.y$^y&t&. 
 
A BOOKLET 
 
 OF 
 
 SOCIAL POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN H, HIRT 
 
 'O fortunate child ! unto thee 
 
 Thy cradle is infinite space; 
 Become thou a man, then will be 
 
 The whole world a very small place." 
 
 Sc/u7hT. 
 
 PRODUCT OF 
 
 perry's PRINTERY 
 
 I gOO 
 
 u 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 APR, 12 1901 
 
 Copyright entry 
 JJ[&ajl % \C(co 
 CLASS CI XRe. Nv. 
 
 //ofc? 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 
 Copyright, 1900, by 
 JOHN H. HIRT. 
 
CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME 
 
 Our Hope 
 
 The Poet 
 
 Falls of the Missouri 
 
 Custer Massacre 
 
 Isaac Haden's Charge 
 
 Unknown 
 
 Chinook 
 
 Floral Search 
 
 Tennyson 
 
 Whittier 
 
 Ego 
 
 Social Democracy 
 
 Washington's Farewell Address 
 
 Capital Punishment . 
 
 Policeman's Defense 
 
 "The Red, Red West" 
 
 Waiting for the Bulletins 
 
 Sonnets — 
 
 Poet Life 
 
 Col. Robert G. Ingersoll 
 
 Wealth . 
 
 Charles Floyd, U. S. A. 
 
 Socialism 
 
 Junius Letters 
 
 Solitude . 
 
 Handcuffed Skeleton 
 
 "Remember the Maine" 
 
 Ingratitude 
 
 Lost Love 
 
 Genius. 
 
 Doubt 
 
Translated from Schiller — 
 
 The German Muse . . . 85 
 
 Hope ..... .86 
 
 Worth of Women . . . . 87 
 
 Sentences of Confucius: Time ... 91 
 
 Sentences of Confucius: Space . . • 9 2 
 
 Translated from Goethe — 
 
 Bride of Corinth . . . . -93 
 
 Thanks . . . ■ • • .104 
 

PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 In youth the author was imbued with the sublime conception 
 that he would sooner be a Tennyson or a Longfellow than presi- 
 dent of the United States. 
 
 Kind friends, however, made many persuasive efforts to 
 induce him to give up that "fool-notion"; not that they thought 
 his chances to become president of our republic were good, but 
 that most of our poets have lived on the brink of starvation. But 
 careful observation has convinced him that an equal percentage 
 of those following other pursuits have fared, and still fare, no 
 better; therefore he now makes a penitential return to his first 
 love — the Muse. 
 
 Owing to being confronted by the "small beginning" proposi- 
 tion, explanatory notes, prepared to accompany these poems, are 
 omitted. 
 
A book-worm course 
 
 Has been the source 
 Whence, fountain- like ; these thoughts arose, 
 
 Like multitude 
 
 Of springs exude, 
 From brooklets, each to other flows 
 
 O'er fan - like territory, 
 
 Becoming tributary 
 U?ito a mighty river which 
 To ocean bears its treasures rich. 
 
 E'en such our hopes 
 
 Of figures, tropes, 
 And all that serves this little make-up; 
 
 That their at length 
 
 United strength 
 Finds them at rosy dawning wake up, 
 
 Defyi?ig critics ever, 
 
 Abreast some giant river, 
 That flows into the mighty ocean 
 Of poems safe from oblivion. 
 
SOCIAL POEMS 
 
 THE POET 
 
 (WITH invocation) 
 
 Full many a poet's born to bloom, 
 
 But like the flower that bloomed 
 In desert waste unseen, 
 
 Are his first efforts e'en 
 'Mongst barren brains foredoomed; 
 Or oft' such scanty glean 
 His toils reward, that in the gloom 
 His early muse's entombed. 
 
 9 
 
The thought suggested charity — 
 (O pen! you are too slow; 
 Like zigzag lightnings flash 
 Our tideling thoughts, and dash 
 At random to and fro 
 As quick as sudden crash 
 Can split in halves eternity 
 
 With awful shiv'ring glow.) 
 
 Return, suggested charity, 
 
 Before we change the thought 
 Again, our rolic rhyme 
 To meet its frolic time; 
 
 Perhaps a strayling caught 
 May add a rhythmic chime, 
 Till we — if you will render me 
 
 Your aid, will find well fraught 
 
Hereafter worthy charity 
 
 On worthy bard bestowed: 
 Though fame may be the need 
 Alleviating meed 
 
 That paves the thorn-path road 
 He treads in reckless heed, 
 He well prepays the moiety 
 
 Thereof on him bestowed. 
 
 Tho' many a mind beams genial rays 
 Of charity untried, 
 The poet's high desire 
 Expands a living fire 
 
 Of sunrise glorified; 
 And sun-like rising higher, 
 Till with a single scroll of lays 
 The world's electrified. 
 
Hail, Muses, heed our invocation; 
 If you should guide upon 
 Our well-meant scroll of lays 
 Some happy, sanguine rays 
 
 Hurled from the parent sun — 
 Arrested in their plays 
 Of pell-mell dancing through creation. 
 Our gratitude is won. 
 
 E'en here, out in this far north-west, 
 An earnest pioneer, 
 Which some one needs must be 
 Without apology, 
 
 Ere 'nother can appear, 
 Who likewise longs to be 
 Historic rhyme -recording guest 
 Upon our vast frontier. 
 
Hail, Muses, all you ancient nine! 
 One more for every State 
 In union wedded, we, 
 To this society, 
 
 Herewith initiate — 
 Young sisters tho' they be, 
 They're lacking naught of the divine- 
 In freedom up to date. 
 
 Montana, Muse of Freedom, hail! 
 Upon your mountain peaks 
 The goddess has her throne — 
 If blizzards howl and moan 
 Their mad tyrannic freaks 
 Our mild chinooks atone; 
 While sprites of living Tells empale 
 A freedom nature speaks. 
 13 
 
Hail, Muses, who the fancy teach, 
 And truancy you chide! 
 Hail, guardian angels of 
 The poets whom you love, 
 
 Whose mystic pen you guide, 
 And ard'rous zeal approve! 
 No raving critics we beseech, 
 Their good intents belied. 
 
 Let sober as a judge be these, 
 Or's judges ought to be, 
 Lest authors tremble as 
 The vagrant, ruffian class 
 Their fate impatiently 
 Awaiting. What poet has, 
 Howe'er he errs not, or may please, 
 Infallibility? 
 
 14 
 
But we will bid a welcome to 
 The friendly hand that may 
 Point to some likely error 
 That herein may appear, or, 
 
 Although our first word-play 
 May faulty efforts mirror, 
 Can point to sanguine plaudits due, 
 When comes our judgment day. 
 
FALLS OF THE MISSOURI 
 
 Clarke and Lewis came exploring 
 On the bosom of Missouri; 
 
 Lewis first came to the roaring 
 Of the falls of the Missouri. 
 
 Came the fearless great explorer, 
 Saw the grandeur of the falls, 
 
 Awestruck heard the mighty roarer, 
 Hemmed by massive canyon walls. 
 
 Long he sat amazed and wondered 
 
 'Fore those sandstone strata walls, 
 Where Missouri down a hundred 
 Perpendicular feet falls. 
 
 16 
 
When amazement had subsided 
 
 O'er the water's magic fury, 
 Soon upon a name decided — 
 The Great Falls of the Missouri. 
 
 All night long he lay before it, 
 By its rushing lulled to sleep; 
 
 On the morrow to explore it 
 
 Farther climbed the rugged steep. 
 
 O th' inspiring scene before him 
 
 When he reached the height of land! 
 
 Scenic grandeur to allure him. 
 Far as eye-sight could extend. 
 
 On with eager strides ascending, 
 Passed by steps the water made 
 
 In successive leaps descending, 
 Falls, and rapids, and cascade — 
 
 17 
 
Till he came where fall these charming 
 
 Waters o'er irreg'lar walls, 
 Horse-shoe semicircle forming — 
 
 This he named the Crooked Falls. 
 
 While he thus his eyes regaling, 
 
 On what seemed more like a dream, 
 
 Louder roar his ears assailing 
 
 Thundered down the magic stream: 
 
 Thither hastening to behold, 
 As if art had hewed the walls 
 
 Cross the channeled river-mould 
 Over which the water falls 
 
 Fifty feet, like silv'ry spar, 
 
 Down these perfect massive walls, 
 
 Straight and perpendicular — 
 
 Rightly named the Rainbow Falls. 
 

 v. 
 
Here the sunlight's golden rays 
 Lose themselves in rainbow hues, 
 
 As they mingle with the sprays 
 Rising in majestic views. 
 
 Near above the stream more humble, 
 'Tween the disappearing walls, 
 
 Takes a little twelve-foot tumble, 
 Which is named the Colter's Falls. 
 
 Here a giant fountain issues — 
 Subterranean river's mouth, 
 
 Boiling through the cliff-bank fissures, 
 Flowing north from mountains south, 
 
 Where rise many brooklets that a 
 Short flow take adown the plain, 
 
 Then 'neath northward dipping strata 
 Sinking, here an outlet gain. 
 19 
 
Eagerly and curious, further 
 
 On his dream-like course pursued, 
 
 Till he came unto another 
 Falls of mighty magnitude. 
 
 Forty feet of rugged tumbling, 
 As if turned from placid gladness, 
 
 Irritated by the jumbling 
 
 Into wild and frenzied madness. 
 
 Louder from an isle beneath it, 
 Than the roaring of the falls, 
 
 Screamed uprising eagle, greeted 
 
 Him, hence named Black Eagle Falls. 
 
 Here the Indians told a legend, 
 That for ages that same eagle 
 
 Built its nest upon this island — 
 Sacred bird, thy home was legal ! 
 
Not another scenic view is 
 To be seen on the Missouri 
 
 As here greeted Clarke and Lewis 
 With both placidness and fury. 
 
 In the distance rise the mountains 
 Tow'ring high above the plains* 
 
 From eternal snows and fountains, 
 There Missouri source obtains. 
 
 And they often heard a thunder 
 As of firing of a cannon; 
 
 Of this mystic mountain wonder 
 A solution give us can none, 
 
 Save the Indians who forever 
 Solve phenom'nal nature's laws, 
 
 With some more mysterious, ever 
 Ready legend give the cause — 
 
O'er and o'er their story told, 
 
 That deep in the rock- ribbed mountains 
 Were exploding mines of gold 
 
 Which forth issues from the fountains. 
 
 Flowers beautifully blowing 
 On the rolling plains they met; 
 
 Often hard the wind was blowing — 
 (Hark! I hear it blowing yet.) 
 
 Oft' they weathered rain and snows, 
 Trod on thorns of prickly pears, 
 
 Hunted deers and buffaloes, 
 
 And fought rattlesnakes and bears. 
 
 Great and grand is the Misouri, 
 
 Crystal clear its waters are 
 Here, but afterwards made muddy 
 
 By dissolving mauvaises terres. 
 
Many, many'll come adoring 
 As the first explorers did, 
 
 Hear the same unending roaring 
 That these first adorers did, 
 
 Till the sciences will tarnish 
 All that prestine beauty found, 
 
 But a famous city garnish 
 All our prairie lands around. 
 
 * 
 
 23 
 
CUSTER MASSACRE 
 
 Foothills and plains are nigh 
 Where these dead heroes lie; 
 Heroes that Custer led — 
 Heroes that fought and bled, 
 
 Ruthlessly slain. 
 Madly our nation grieved 
 When we the news received 
 Of the rude massacre — 
 How these brave soldiers were 
 
 Slain on the plain. 
 24 
 
Two hundred and sixty-two 
 Of gallant Custer's crew, 
 Followed their leader home — 
 Followed him to their doom, 
 
 Down to their graves. 
 Not one was missing there; 
 Not one found wounded there 
 All dead — all massacred — 
 Saddest that e'er occurred 
 
 Unto our braves. 
 
 Demons surrounded them; 
 Stampede confounded them ; 
 War-whoops and hellish yells 
 Sounded death's awful knells 
 In mad despair. 
 25 
 
Not one for safety seeks — 
 Crackling midst groans and shrieks, 
 Rifles and pistols were 
 Belching forth everywhere 
 Hell's fiery glare. 
 
 Then every soldier knew 
 Ignoble death was due, 
 Facing that savage throng, 
 Fully five thousand strong, 
 
 Of Sitting Bull. 
 Records insensible 
 Is all there's left to tell 
 How the Seventh Cavalry 
 Charged the fierce savagery 
 
 Of Sitting Bull. 
 26 
 
Marble slab marks the ground 
 Where each hacked corpse was found 
 Low the wind sings for them 
 Its saddest requiem 
 
 Over their graves. 
 Gallant Seventh Cavalry! 
 Models of bravery! 
 To them we'll point with pride; 
 Sadly our thoughts abide 
 
 With Custer's braves. 
 
 #fe 
 
 27 
 
ISAAC HADEN'S CHARGE 
 
 Haden, Alabama's brave young hunter, 
 
 Reared and kept a famous pack of hounds, 
 
 Roving where not yet the chains of Gunter 
 Had traversed those rich alluvial grounds; 
 
 Many wild young plants around him growing, 
 
 Year by year, nor ceased continual blowing, 
 Sowed and raised in nature's paradise, 
 'Neath those warm and brilliant sunny skies. 
 28 
 
Early as the birds awoke the morning', 
 
 Singing their adieu unto the night, 
 As the firefly's lantern ceased its burning, 
 
 Giving way unto a greater light; 
 And ere sunbeams 'gan on dewdrops feeding, 
 Mounted he his steed of noble breeding, 
 
 Mating well the one Adonis rode 
 
 When by wily Venus he was wooed. 
 
 But a signal soon he gave that morning, 
 Prancing, dancing, stop, upprick his ears, 
 
 Scent the air — twas an unfailing warning 
 To his rider, one who ne'er knew fears. 
 
 "Ah! some fiendish Creeks are here abounding;" 
 
 This he said, then gave his horn a sounding; 
 Sixty savage hounds obeyed the blast, 
 Each would fight unto the very last. 
 29 
 
No response the solemn air was bringing, 
 Save the loud, long echo of his horn 
 
 Through the solitary forest ringing, 
 
 Fainter growing till it reached its bourn. 
 
 An impulsive boding coming o'er him, 
 
 Ling'ring as a guiding-star before him, 
 Set towards Fort Sinquefield his brigade, 
 As if there might be needed his aid. 
 
 Many sparkling dewdrops brightly smiling, 
 Gazed into our hero's anxious face, 
 
 Often e'en his rambling thoughts beguiling 
 Into musings of what might take place 
 
 Ere the sun, soon cross the zenith flying, 
 
 Safe within his western bed be lying — 
 Or the second twilight of that day 
 Courtingly'd embrace a nodding ray. 
 30 
 
Scattered round on every side were flowers, 
 Long, tall grass, huge, overhanging trees, 
 
 Forming many cool, inviting bowers 
 
 For the birds, and insects, and wild bees; 
 
 While such game as from their lairs upstarting, 
 
 Unmolested could take safer parting, 
 Since our hero deemed it best this day 
 Silently to take his unsafe way. 
 
 Almost perpendicularly were the 
 
 Sun's hot rays descending upon one 
 Whose rememb'rance, and whose name are worthy 
 
 Honor for the daring deed he's done; 
 When he, soon with monsters to be dealing, 
 Unobserved upon the fort came stealing, 
 
 When — ah me! ah mortals, what a sight! 
 
 Sudden horror pierced his manly sprite! 
 31 
 
To give burial unto fallen comrades, 
 At some little distance from the fort, 
 
 Not believing that near by were some reds, 
 Rude barbarians of a war-like sort, 
 
 Ambuscaded within range of shooting, 
 
 Came the people, so their caution soothing, 
 That no watch was set to give alarms, 
 No gates closed, nor took with them their arms. 
 
 Francis' warriors from the grass upspringing, 
 Thirsting for a bath in human gore, 
 
 Sent so loud a savage war-cry ringing 
 As these settlers never heard before; 
 
 Burning with high hopes to gain possession 
 
 Of the gates, then fall on the procession, 
 Who unarmed, and in an open field, 
 Unto ruthless slaughter soon must yield. 
 32 
 
But the people of this stockade fortress 
 
 Quickly this intended plan foresaw; 
 Then at breakneck speed, they ran a footrace 
 
 With these savages, all crude and raw 
 Unto modern arts to war pertaining — 
 Now the men at first the entrance gaining. 
 
 Shut the gates — but O! what did they do? 
 
 Saw their wives and children shut out too! 
 
 Haden, with cool head, and dauntless courage, 
 
 At this moment coming to the fort, 
 While the Indians o'er their helpless forage, 
 
 Gloried in the hopes of carnage sport, 
 Cried unto his dogs, and charged before them 
 Through their thickest ranks, e'en riding o'er them 
 
 Savagely each hound his victim tore, 
 
 Strewing fast the ground with corpses o'er. 
 
 33 
 
Suddenly this unforeseen intrusion, 
 
 Charging fiercely at terrific rate; 
 Threw the Indians into such confusion, 
 
 That the people safely reached the gate; 
 But our hero — look! behold him charging! 
 Wide a gap right through their ranks enlarging — 
 
 He, to whom is due a world of thanks, 
 
 Forced his way e'en through their thickest ranks. 
 
 They, now foiled in every purpose, 
 
 Quick recovering from their sudden fright, 
 
 Turned with vengeful fury, and new purpose, 
 Their whole force upon this fearful knight — 
 
 Closed their ranks to cut off his retreating — 
 
 Death now sent before his awful greeting; 
 Bravely would he die for a good cause, 
 Bravely die, but gain a world's applause. 
 
 34 
 
Smaller, as he hast'ly marshaled round him 
 His remaining hounds, grew hopes for life, 
 
 For the savages 'gan to surround him, 
 Firmer their intent on deadly strife; 
 
 Hotter now their vengeful ire is burning — 
 
 Drawing's pistols, one per hand, then turning, 
 Dashed the spurs into his horse's flanks, 
 And replunged into the firing ranks. 
 
 Scarcely through the savage ranks rebroken, 
 Stormed and shot at fiercely from each side — 
 
 As a ray of hope had just awoken, 
 
 Reeled and fell his gallant steed and died: 
 
 Yet afoot, a final effort trying, 
 
 Safely he into the fort came flying; 
 
 But his noble steed, his famous hounds, 
 
 Side by side dead Indians decked the grounds. 
 
 35 
 
UNKNOWN. 
 
 Some penance do this side the hearse, 
 
 But some, 'tis said, beyond; 
 Some lives are sorrow-laden here 
 
 Ere snaps life's youthful bond, 
 Submerging buoyant heart in tears 
 
 Which cast around the soul of love 
 Dark shades that nature seems to make 
 
 Vague object lessons of. 
 36 
 
One pitch-dark night a young man came, 
 
 Whom business belated, 
 Just merging from the outskirts of 
 
 A town somewhat ill-fated, 
 Where robbers of the highway class 
 
 The neighborhood infested, 
 There oft relieved the travelers 
 
 Of what they were invested. 
 
 Below the low-hung clouds he tripped, 
 
 Oft groping for his way, 
 When faintly as if distant heard 
 
 A moan — where from? which way? 
 Anon again — but louder heard, 
 
 Distinguishing a word. 
 How odd it seemed — that one word "- 
 
 The sound and sense absurd. 
 
 37 
 
Though he had courage, yet mistrust 
 
 Suspicion raised — the place 
 By thieves was haunted — from that word 
 
 He could no meaning trace; 
 Twas mystery, that omnious " ," 
 
 Intended to allure. 
 His home he found — not sleep; his mind 
 
 That sound re-echoed o'er. 
 
 "One more unfortunate," next morn 
 
 The dailies heralded; 
 Out near the suburbs of the town 
 
 A woman was found dead. 
 From whence she came, where she would go, 
 
 Or how she died — none knew; 
 That mystic word which he had heard 
 
 The only living clue 
 38 
 
Enfathomed deep in mystery's 
 
 Abyss. But merciful 
 Was death that left a peaceful calm 
 
 As symbol of her soul. 
 'Mongst the unknown was burried she 
 
 By stingy charity, 
 Unmourned; not e'en a slab upon 
 
 Her lonely grave to see. 
 
 But racing, chasing, restless years 
 
 Oft mysteries unraveled; 
 His home to him was home no more, 
 
 Soon westward he had traveled, 
 Where unions and societies 
 
 The mountaineers united 
 Into fraternal fellowship, 
 
 Or secret rites benighted. 
 
 39 
 
Soon into Woodcraft's Circle he 
 
 Was being initiated, 
 When all its solemn mysteries 
 
 Were unto him related — 
 "Our warning sign's made thus — and this- 
 
 Our danger signal is; 
 At night, or if unseen, when in 
 
 Distress, our cry is ' ' " — 
 
 "O God !l heard that cry before," 
 
 The young man said and staggered, 
 "I did not know its meaning then 
 
 And therefore proved a laggard." 
 The story's told; if reader you 
 
 Stand at some strange grave e'er, 
 Pause, ponder, for perhaps it is 
 
 A Neighbor resting there. 
 4 o 
 
CHINOOK 
 
 Warm as from ocean bath, 
 Taking thy mountain-path — 
 Onward like ocean's tide 
 Comst thou, Montana's pride; 
 
 Hail thee, Chinook. 
 Over high craig and peak, 
 Bounding with mystic freak — 
 O'er the round buttes you sweep, 
 Down through the canyons deep- 
 Hail thee, Chinook. 
 
Chilly and snapping rare, 
 Till comes thy balmy air, 
 Then the shy antelopes, 
 High on their mountain-slopes 
 
 Hail thee, Chinook. 
 While the sun's rays delay, 
 Dost thou oft melt away, 
 Ice, frost and snow away, 
 All in a night or day — 
 
 Hail thee, Chinook. 
 
 Everywhere comest thou; 
 Every nook soundest thou; 
 Where the cured grass yet stands 
 Feeding the shepherd's bands, 
 Horses and cattle. 
 42 
 
Mountains can stay thee not; 
 Blizzards delay thee not; 
 Over our arid lands, 
 Over our prairie-lands, 
 Won is thy battle. 
 
 Wrapped in frigidity 
 Would our whole winter be, 
 If thou didst not appear 
 Checking his fierce career — 
 
 Hail thee, Chinook. 
 Bringst Indian-summers clear, 
 Warming mid-winter here, 
 Making savanna-lands 
 Of our Montana-lands — 
 
 Hail thee, Chinook. 
 
 43 
 
Here the wild buffalo 
 With his fierce eyes aglow, 
 Was by the Indian chased 
 O'er the wide range embraced 
 
 By thee, Chinook. 
 Soon they will chase no more 
 Mountain and prairie o'er, 
 But you will come the same; 
 Hail to thy Indian name — 
 
 Hail thee, Chinook. 
 
 t 
 
 44 
 
FLORAL SEARCH. 
 
 Multitudes went picking flowers; 
 Authors uith inventive genius, 
 Some clad in the robes of Junius, 
 
 Incognito's secret powers; 
 
 Statesmen wrapped in oratory; 
 Ministers who lull to sleep us 
 Into dust that hence will keep us; 
 
 Jurists grown with wisdom hoary ; 
 
 Novelists from all life's stations; 
 
 Lawyers learned from Hoyle to Story, 
 Dodging truth, inventing story; 
 Editors who sway the nations; 
 
 45 
 
Doctors, artists, soldiers marching — 
 
 Great philosophers and sages 
 
 Schooled in lore of mystic ages; 
 Tutors, pupils — all went searching 
 
 Over hills and valleys mellish, 
 
 Fens, fields, mountains, meadows, moorlands, 
 
 Ocean, heaven, for the garlands, 
 Their life-efforts to embellish — 
 
 But alas! they found before them 
 
 Went the poet's floral reaper; 
 
 Of the choicest he was keeper; 
 He, the first one to adore them, 
 
 Sowed his floral seeds at morning 
 Of our languages, and nourished 
 Them till they in grandeur flourished, 
 
 Learning's fruitful fields adorning. 
 4 6 
 
Then the search was given over; 
 
 Now 'tis but to take or borrow; 
 
 In our joys, or in our sorrow, 
 With his floral wreaths we cover 
 
 Infants in their cradled morning, 
 Youths all vigorous and active, 
 Riper age just returned retractive, 
 
 And the dust to dust returning. 
 
 rfc 
 
 47 
 
TENNYSON. 
 
 Tennyson our poet's blest 
 With death's angel's last request, 
 With a longed-for quiet rest — 
 England's Poet Laureate. 
 
 On life's stage his noble heart 
 Lives where he has played a part 
 Dear to every human heart — 
 England's Poet Laureate. 
 
 Holy thoughts to us he's given, 
 Sweetened with a peaceful leaven, 
 Till they reach from earth to heaven 
 England's Poet Laureate. 
 
Master of our English verse, 
 Owner of the lyric purse, 
 With his thoughts we still converse; 
 England's Poet Laureate. 
 
 Monarch of his vast survey, 
 Framer of the golden lay, 
 Peacefully he passed away — 
 England's Poet Laureate. 
 
 His a heart of tenderness, 
 His a thought of peacefulness, 
 His a life the world shall bless — 
 England's Poet Laureate. 
 
 November, 1892. 
 
 49 
 
WHITTIER. 
 
 Whittier our poet's dead, 
 Are the news the light'nings sped, 
 Are the sad news to be read 
 Of our Quaker Poet. 
 
 Poet grand, sublime, sedate, 
 Pillar of poetic state, 
 Freedom's soldier true and great, 
 Was our Quaker Poet. 
 
 Born to slavery abhor, 
 Cradled in a freeman's car, 
 Nurtured in a freedom's war, 
 Was our Quaker Poet. 
 
 50 
 
Ere came Lincoln's call for men, 
 Out upon the field e'en then, 
 Flashed the mighty soldier pen 
 Of cur Quaker Poet. 
 
 Foremost in the fierce turmoil, 
 On the shrine of freedom's soil, 
 Such a life of honest toil 
 Lived our Quaker Poet. 
 
 In his noble thoughts we trace 
 What must lasting peace embrace. 
 Peaceful is the resting place 
 Of our Quaker Poet. 
 
 November, 1892. 
 
 5 1 
 
EGO. 
 
 Strange to say, a custom's risen, 
 Writing one's own epitaph; 
 
 Egotism, which crowds the season, 
 Longs to see some worthless chaff 
 
 Blown about the puffed-up head 
 
 Ere the lump of flesh is dead. 
 
 Time's remorseless vandalism 
 
 Levels down all works of art, 
 Nature's stern materialism 
 
 Playing its indifferent part, 
 All euphoneously known 
 By one word — oblivion. 
 52 
 
Futile is our cynic searching 
 
 Here for immortality; 
 All that was is dead or lurching 
 
 Dim in vast eternity — 
 This, however, "Earth to Earth," 
 Is most truthful of this Hirt. 
 
 53 
 
SOCIAL DEMOCRACY. 
 
 Did Jefferson inaugurate 
 
 That there should be no progress made 
 In true democracy? 
 Did Jackson at a later date, 
 
 Who more upon the structure laid 
 Of true democracy, 
 Ordain that nothing be augmented 
 To what they nobly represented? 
 
 54 
 
As well proclaim that liberty 
 Enjoyed a thousand years ago 
 Is good enough today; 
 And that in knowledge we should be 
 Brought back to that benighted woe, 
 When not a sanguine ray 
 Could penetrate those sad, dark ages 
 That e'er becloud historic pages. 
 
 Who stands while all else moves along, 
 Needs not retrace his steps to be 
 'Mongst those who retrograde; 
 E'en so a powerful party throng 
 Must ever with the foremost be 
 To evolute its grade — 
 Must 'void infallible profession, 
 The first frail step to retrogression. 
 
 55 
 
To travel in the good old ways 
 May some old fogies satisfy 
 Whose learning days are o'er; 
 But when an active mind's eye plays 
 Unceasing rays of progress nigh 
 That youth e'er ponders o'er, 
 We seek what happiness enhances, 
 Whereby true liberty advances. 
 
 O Socialism! we hail the day 
 
 On which you're made the happy bride 
 Of true democracy, 
 When we the pow'r of wealth can stay 
 That tyranizes far and wide — 
 Mock aristocracy, 
 Defying strength yet in our hands 
 To save ourselves, our homes, our lands. 
 56 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 Today a hundred years ago * 
 
 George Washington's farewell address 
 Was given to the wo'ld, 
 Immortal document, to go 
 Adown the ages, e'er to bless 
 Us as its truths unfold — 
 Such was our patriot's bequest 
 Before he sought his well-earned rest 
 In the eternal fold. 
 
 * September 19, 1796 
 
 57 
 
O, if each word that it contains 
 Were deep engraven in each breast 
 As it was in his own! 
 All, all were ours that freedom gains, 
 No foreign foe would show his crest, 
 Home traitors be unknown; 
 And all would share the common good 
 Of one vast social brotherhood 
 To riper union grown. 
 
 Divided we but traitors are 
 Unto each other, never need 
 To quit our own to stand 
 On foreign ground ; pollute the air 
 With discontent, and it will breed 
 Mistrust, dissentions, and 
 Thus we at home, the foreigner 
 Will reap, before we are aware, 
 The proceeds of our land. 
 5S 
 
Let union dear to every heart, 
 No wars abroad, and peace at home, 
 Remain our dearest prize; 
 No private gains to rend us 'part, 
 Nor jeasousies to seal our doom 
 In lawful enterprise — 
 Through common dangers to success 
 Was won that freedom we possess, 
 That seals our sacred ties. 
 
 If we uphold the rights of man, 
 And concentrate such powers 
 As in our manhood lie, 
 That sacred name — American, 
 By birthright or adoption ours, 
 Can never, never die: 
 Affections concentration find 
 Where all are of a common mind, 
 And bound by common tie. 
 59 
 
So baneful is all partyism, 
 The party tyrant, party slave, 
 Unto our freedom's cause; 
 Inviting sectional despotism, 
 The rich and powerful to brave 
 Defiantly our laws — 
 That eagerly did Washington 
 Admonish us forever shun 
 
 Those freedom puncturing flaws. 
 
 O read it , true Americans! 
 
 Reread, and let your brains digest 
 That ever sacred warning, 
 Lest individual wealth unmans 
 Us, luring into selfish quest 
 Our liberty's first dawning; 
 Or prostituted we shall see, 
 By Mammon's despot tyrany, 
 Our freedom die aborning. 
 60 
 
CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. 
 
 Cap'tal punishment's a lawful, 
 
 Barb'rous relic undecried, 
 Handed down through darkest ages 
 When the best and wisest sages 
 
 Were on crosses crucified, 
 Burned, or stoned to death — O awful! 
 Tho' scarce worse than hanging, shooting, 
 Or the late electrocuting. 
 
Though a soldier's justified 
 Killing dang'rous enemies, 
 
 Worse were he than beastly cur 
 
 If he slew his prisoner; 
 
 Worse by far, in times of peace, 
 
 To kill captured homicide; 
 
 Judges too was giv'n to fill 
 
 That command, Thou shalt not kill. 
 
 Naught it is but vengeful strife, 
 When premeditated murder — 
 
 Murder in the first degree, 
 
 Justifies society 
 
 Cooly execute another — 
 
 Blood for blood, life for a life, 
 
 By a hireling prosecution, 
 
 Law directing execution. 
 
Stigma 'pon our Christian lands! 
 
 Murd'ring is by law prolonged; 
 For by cap'tal punishment 
 Is established precedent 
 
 Whereby those who have been wronged, 
 Taking law in their own hands, 
 Think themselves quite justified 
 In committing homicide. 
 
 Future ages will look back — 
 
 Back to us as we to those 
 Who burned witches at the stake, 
 And the heretic to make 
 
 Him recant, in martyr woes, 
 Doctrines living spite of rack — 
 Tortures for supposed transgression, 
 Practices of non-progression. 
 63 
 
Then let cap'tal punishment 
 
 Be repealed, and substitute 
 Prison-law that safely cares 
 For such dangerous characters, 
 
 In some proper institute — 
 Be it life-imprisonment, 
 Till that Judge on yon tribunal 
 Passes judgment on the crim'nal. 
 
 64 
 
POLICEMAN'S DEFENSE. 
 
 As stern a policeman as ever was seen, 
 
 Whom time-honored service had stamped with a mien 
 
 Of stone-heartedness to the criminal sort, 
 
 Was tried for refusing to bring into court 
 
 A thief he was sent for and had in his power, 
 
 Who had made away with a small sack of flour. 
 
 "I'm guilty, your honor — if crime 'tis of mine 
 I'll herewith my official service resign: 
 A merchant, grown rich, who by var'ous devices 
 Succeeds in extorting exorbitant prices, 
 Did send me for one I saw begging for work, 
 While grim visaged hunger within him did lurk: 
 
 65 
 
But labor, trust, aid, were denied him each hour, 
 
 Till maddened with hunger skipped off with some flour, 
 
 I followed him home, slyly opened the door, 
 
 Six half-naked children upon the bare floor — 
 
 Their invalid mother whose looks told of woe, 
 
 Were mixing the flour and eating the dough. 
 
 The father stood by with triumphant, sad air, 
 
 While no guilty conscience my presence marked there; 
 
 I viewed them in silence, but let them eat on; 
 
 By me such imprisoning never was done. 
 
 The favored few publicly, lawfully cheat, 
 
 And hoard up provisions the many should eat. 
 
 They shelve away clothing that was made to wear 
 Instead of creating the rich millionaire, 
 Who's worshiping only his mammonite idol, 
 
While millions of true men go hungry and idle. 
 It would be quite easy the pilf'rers to cure, 
 If first were convicted those robbing the poor. 
 
 No factory wheels would be standing so still, 
 And fewer the acres for no one to till: 
 Our country's productive of more than is needed, 
 Except human laws— these are trampled unheeded; 
 While rude competition for riches holds sway, 
 There's no hope in store for a happier day." 
 
 67 
 
THE RED, RED WEST. 
 
 Give me no home 
 'Neath the pale pink dome 
 
 Of European skies — 
 No cot for me 
 By the salmon sea 
 
 That far to the southward lies; 
 But away out west 
 I would build my nest 
 
 On top of a carmine hill, 
 Where I can paint 
 Without restraint 
 
 Creation redder still. 
 
 — Eugene Field. 
 
 Correct my 'Gene, 
 
 Is your whim, I ween, 
 
 Regarding our red west — 
 Where the lurid hues 
 Are the sanguine views 
 
 Men hold till one cannot rest, 
 You may paint our head 
 
 68 
 
E'en creation red 
 
 Those red still a redder glow 
 But pass one law, 
 A good old saw, 
 
 And let the white horse go. 
 
 — John IV. Conway. 
 
 Correct my 'Gene, 
 And you too, my John, 
 
 For whoever has seen 
 How the goddess reigns 
 On our western plains, 
 
 Is lured by her charms, I ween 
 In our desert air, 
 E'en in mauvaises terres, 
 
 Spell-binds her enam'ring glow; 
 Then have your say, 
 Paint, paint away, 
 
 White horse and all aglow. 
 69 
 
WAITING FOR THE BULLETINS. 
 
 An old man paced the streets upon 
 
 With anxious careworn face, 
 For now the fighting has begun 
 
 With th' Filipino race: 
 He scans the eager board for bulletins, 
 
 No one disturbs him there, 
 For yesterday the sad news were 
 
 His son was wounded there. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Oh tell me the news from the Philippines- 
 Tell me if my son still lives: 
 
 Oh let me read the bulletins — 
 Oh tell if he still lives! 
 
A mother tears her streaming hair, 
 
 A telegram she read, 
 That without warning startled her 
 
 As if her son were dead; 
 The consoling words her friends would give 
 
 Soothe not her anxious care, 
 For yesterday the sad news were 
 
 Her son was wounded there. 
 
 A sister's tears now blind her eyes 
 
 While waiting for more news; 
 And one with secret heartfelt sighs 
 
 For information sues — 
 The old man is bending lower with care, 
 
 Whiter are his bleaching hair, 
 For yesterday the sad news were 
 
 His son was wounded there. 
 
POET LIFE. 
 
 As does a mirror to a maiden give 
 An image of herself in choice attire, 
 Portraying beauties of her own desire — 
 
 How in the prime of life her fancies live 
 
 Qn beck'ning hopes till she arrives at eve 
 Of youth, the roses of her cheeks expire 
 Like echoes of the low vibrating lyre, 
 
 And is in self-delusion left to grieve; 
 
 E'en so we see a character, a vein 
 In verse, portraying poet life a toy; 
 Or see of hope, of love, heart's deep desire, 
 
 Of mirth, ambition, bitter dregs remain 
 When he had sipped his hasty cup of joy 
 Warmed by his loved congenial Muse's fire. 
 72 
 
COL. ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. 
 
 Your body to cremation you decreed; 
 
 Each atom thus to gaseous state returned, 
 Except the treasured ashes now inurned, 
 Shall be absorbed by tree, or flower, or seed- 
 Thereby new life with new subsistence feed. 
 That coffined rest a body may have earned 
 Not needed is if useless parts be burned, 
 Restoring to the elements their meed. 
 But where's your spirit that once proved to be 
 The worshiped idol of'n admiring race? 
 Our scientific researches appear 
 Inadequate to solve the mystery — 
 
 But pause — it too must have a proper place 
 In nature's evolutionary sphere. 
 73 
 
WEALTH. 
 
 Tis individual ownership of wealth 
 
 That opens wide temptation's sinful door; 
 
 We murder, steal, then for forgiveness roar, 
 But in the same breath cry out for more wealth- 
 Insatiate curse-cry echoing "more wealth!" 
 
 Into temptation lead us not, implore 
 
 We of the Deity, at heart adore 
 The greatest tempter — Golden Calf. For wealth. 
 Through willful negligence, inhuman greed, 
 
 Each of his fellowman a murd'rer is. 
 If nations owned our vast utilities, 
 Distributing the same to those in need, 
 
 We all could live in real Utopian bliss, 
 Free from wealth-slaveries, toil-miseries. 
 
 74 
 
BLACK RAGLE FALLS BEFORE IMPROVEMENT 
 See Page 20. 
 
CHARLES FLOYD, U. S. A. 
 
 For years was sought the grave of Sergeant Floyd. 
 Which nigh a century ago was made 
 By his companions, and last tribute paid, 
 Upon a bluff that skirts Missouri's side 
 In Iowa; oblivion to 'void, 
 
 A cedar post was set where he was laid, 
 With name and date inscribed to aid 
 Its being after found— identified. 
 Rut e'en this land-mark was by time erased — 
 The search prolonged, ere it was found 
 Where Lewis and Clarke's exploring party laid him 
 Let o'er the spot a monument be placed, 
 Where his untimely death made him renowned; 
 There honors due a soldier e'er be paid him. 
 75 
 
SOCIALISM. 
 
 Reformers have for ages striven for true, 
 
 Untrammeled socialism, whose sun witli might 
 Now broadcasts 'pon our age a dawning light 
 
 Wherewith the selfish gropers to imbue — 
 
 Come Socialism, uprear your banner to 
 
 The breeze; the stars and stripes are yours by right 
 'Neath which we have been rocked in dim twilight 
 
 A century — you childlike merge to view. 
 
 Not always are they fittest who survive — 
 
 Each hour sees honest, worthy brains waylaid 
 By cunning, treach'rous, dastard, tyrant knaves: 
 
 Till none in honest livelihood can thrive — 
 Our competition is the death of trade, 
 
 From which but socialism can free us slaves. 
 76 
 
JUNIUS LETTERS. 
 
 Full many a volume has been given to 
 
 The world to prove the authorship of those 
 Mysterious letters — famed, illustrious, 
 Wherein no quarter given, for none would sue, 
 Did satire and sarcasm each fiend subdue — 
 
 Quailed conscience found a thorn-bed's keen repose- 
 From shafts secure did the anonymous 
 His unrelenting pen-war's course pursue: 
 But style's the man — which does alone confess, 
 Though hidd'n behind assumed chirography, 
 The authorship — style does not well disguise. 
 These fourteen sonnet lines my claim express — 
 I point to Goldsmith, and proclaim 'twas he 
 Who gave the world that literary prize. 
 77 
 
SOLITUDE. 
 
 O solitude! why should we strive to part? 
 Why should we hate each other? or disown 
 That we have ever met? We are but one — 
 
 If twain, our home is centered in one heart. 
 
 Sometimes 'tis joy — sometimes old sorrows smart, 
 Or some remorseful sting for aught not won, 
 Impinges consciousness of what's not done — 
 
 What might have been is lost to every art. 
 
 Perhaps some budding petal still retains 
 
 Some flow'ry posibilities for summer [bloom 
 
 When springtime's tend'rer shootlings cease to 
 
 Then let us make the best of what remains 
 Of sanguine opportunities that come ere 
 
 Life's winter drifts white mantles o'er the gloom 
 78 
 

 THE GIANT SPRINGS. 
 See Page 19. 
 
HANDCUFFED SKELETON. 
 
 How did you die? O handcuffed skeleton! 
 
 What band of desperadoes did you man? 
 
 Or dev'lish deeds your daring nature plan, 
 Ere you for years were bleaching in the sun — 
 Perhaps purgating reckless crimes you've done? 
 
 Canst tell when first your wild career began? 
 
 How from the sheriff's guard away you ran 
 Into the mountains, with your handcuffs on? 
 Perchance a victim to some beast of prey, 
 
 Or hunger gnawed your remnant vitals out, 
 While cumbered with your iron manacle? 
 Or did you die a penetant and pray 
 
 As some of dying culprits tell about? 
 
 Your white-bleached bones but silent answers tell 
 79 
 
"REMEMBER THE MAINE" 
 
 "Remember the Maine," we remember the Maine. 
 Too deeply those words in our bosom are burned 
 That they should e'er by us be carelessly spurned; 
 
 Not even one victory did Hispana gain, 
 
 As if to avenge the sad fate of the Maine. 
 
 Ah, dearly paid lesson — the Spaniards have learned 
 To harbor in safety the ship that has turned, 
 
 Enticed with peace mission, in port to remain. 
 
 "Remember the Maine," then the signal to fire, 
 When Commodore Dewey so gallantly won 
 His marvelous victory over the don. 
 
 "Remember the Maine" — how it kindled sad ire! 
 But news of the ill-fated fleet of Cervera 
 Awakened compassion — began peaceful era. 
 
 80 
 
INGRATITUDE. 
 
 Ingratitude — O bitter cup to drink! 
 
 For one who Cuban battles bravely fielded; 
 
 To free his neighb'ring fellowmen, hath yielded, 
 Ere he'd from erstwhile patr'otism shrink, 
 Position that had been the faithful link 
 
 That scanty hand to mouth subsistance wielded; 
 
 Though he by hon'rable discharge is shielded, 
 Must tramp the wand'ring refugee's cold brink 
 Of an inhuman world's ingratitude. 
 
 Oft does our patriotic duty pave 
 
 One's road to wealth — another's to the grave — 
 Oh curse of mammon's rude insatiate mood! 
 
 How must our innate soldier pride decay 
 
 If those who serve receive ungrateful pay! 
 
 81 
 
LOVE LOST. 
 
 A poet is inclined to write of love 
 
 At risk of being crazy loneling deemed, 
 
 With wheels in head, or crank who daytimes dreamed 
 
 What pu'rile dignities would disapprove — 
 
 Their scoffing houses oft are burning of. 
 I loved you truly; I'm your dreaming bard; 
 Our love was sweet, but parting sad and hard. 
 
 We all are prone to slide some narrow groove 
 
 That Cupid shoots through — longing to be smitten, 
 As if all courses of true love ran smooth — 
 Alas! we seldom reckon with the host. 
 
 The choicest words that poet pens have written, 
 Pour but a temporary balm, forsooth, 
 
 On hearts that nobly loved, but sadly lost. 
 82 
 
GENIUS. 
 
 Gift, talent, genius, oft border on 
 
 Insanity; their vivid passions gleam 
 
 Through every phase from small to great extreme- 
 As high-strung string may vibrate discord tone, 
 So talent to insanity is prone: 
 
 Great, healthy brains house genius with ease, 
 
 Before whose efforts difficulties cease — 
 By toils persistent meriting their own. 
 
 "Heaven in forming us has mixed our life 
 With reason and insanity." — Voltaire. 
 
 What's sane or insane in this savage strife 
 We cherish — oft with melancholy air; 
 
 While common sense some beaten path pursues, 
 
 Does genius the rough untraveled choose. 
 
 83 
 
DOUBT. 
 
 To doubt's as natural as to believe; 
 
 Credulity and skepticism are two 
 
 Organic faculties each true unto 
 The other if like chances they receive — 
 Not antipodian, but's scales weight give. 
 
 Was doubting Thomas damned who doubtful grew 
 
 As with some hearsay evidence we do? 
 Let proofs as he was given, our doubts relieve 
 Whene'er inhemmed by contradictories; 
 
 Let intuition sway majestic stress 
 
 O'er skillful skeptic, stupid credulous, 
 While search-light reason delves in mysteries 
 
 Whereof a thoughtful student may express 
 
 His doubts, nor be deemed wicked, scandalous. 
 8 4 
 
THE GERMAN MUSE. 
 
 No Augustan aged flower, 
 Medicean wealth of power, 
 
 Smiled upon the German art. 
 By renown she ne'er was nourished, 
 Opened her own petals, flourished 
 
 Ere a royal ray took part. 
 
 From the greatest German son, 
 
 From the great King Fred'rick's throne 
 
 Went she with unguarded spirit. 
 Praises may the Germans sing, 
 And their heart-beats rapture bring; 
 They themselves have earned the merit. 
 
 Therefore rises higher gleaming, 
 
 And their waves have fuller streaming, 
 
 When sings German bard his ode; 
 In his own vast fullness swelling, 
 From his great heart's depth upwelling, 
 
 He disdains each pent-up mode. 
 
 85 
 
HOPE. 
 
 Men speak and dream of things so many, 
 
 Of better days in view, 
 And for some lucky golden penny 
 
 Their hurried path pursue; 
 The world grows old and young again, 
 On better days their hopes remain. 
 
 Through life hope guides so constantly; 
 
 It with the child arrives; 
 It coaxes youth so magicly, 
 
 And at the tomb survives; 
 Else would man's weary race then end, 
 Yet even there doth hope extend. 
 
 Tis not an idle vision's cheer, 
 
 By foolish brain upborne; 
 The heart announces loud and clear, 
 
 We're something better born. 
 Whate'er that inner voice may merit, 
 It ne'er deludes the hoping spirit. 
 
WORTH OF WOMEN. 
 
 Oh! honor the women; they weave and entwine 
 The roses of heaven in life's earthly line, 
 
 And thus braid together love's happiest band 
 And in the pure veil of graceful desire, 
 They wakefully nourish the eternal fire 
 
 Of beautiful feelings, with angelic hand. 
 
 Ever out of truth's domain 
 
 Goes the strength of man astray; 
 Over passion's sea amain 
 
 Ride his stormy thoughts away. 
 Eagerly he grasps afar, 
 
 Stillness ne'er his heart imbues; 
 Restless to remotest star 
 
 His dream's picture he pursues. 
 87 
 
With looks so enchanting, his heart thus enchain, 
 Wink women the fugitive to them again, 
 
 Thus warning him back in their presence to stay; 
 Their custom of bashfulness wisely retaining, 
 True daughters of beautiful nature remaining, 
 
 For ne'er from the homes of their mothers they stray. 
 
 Ever fiendish is man's strife, 
 
 And with crushing force abreast 
 Storming wildly on through life, 
 
 Restless yet no place to rest; 
 What he builds destroys instead, 
 
 Ne'er his warring wishes rest; 
 Never, as the Hydra's head, 
 
 Soon as falls rerears its crest. 
 
 But far more contented with stiller renown, 
 Do women each moment's choice flower pluck down, 
 And nurse it most kindly with dilligent care; 
 
She's freer than man in her lesser domain, 
 Far richer than he is where wisdom is gain, 
 And shines in the poet's unlimited sphere. 
 
 Stern and proud himself sufficing 
 
 Knows not man's cold icy breast, 
 Of the warm heart's magnetizing, 
 
 Of the nestling heart's fond rest; 
 Nor the soul's communion feeling, 
 
 Nor in tears does he dissolve; 
 All life's conflicts ever steeling, 
 
 Harder in his cold resolve. 
 
 But as when so gently by soft zephyrs shaken, 
 Aeolian harp-strings do quickly awaken, 
 
 E'en so the warm spirit of woman replies ; 
 From scenes that are painful is tenderly frightened, 
 Her bosom uprises, and quickly are brightened, 
 With heavenly dew-drops her soft pearly eyes. 
 
But in man's self-ruled dominion, 
 
 Might makes right and tyrants brave; 
 Scythian's sword proves his opinion, 
 
 And the Persian's made a slave. 
 Wild and raw his feudal choice, 
 
 Revels he in gory fight; 
 Eris now with savage voice, 
 
 Reigns where Charis took to flight. 
 
 But women with tender persuasive appeal, 
 
 Sway custom's bright scepter with ardorous zeal. 
 
 To quench the wild tumult that rages amain; 
 And teaching the forces erst hating each other, 
 With lovlier forms to embrace one another, 
 
 Thus eternal rivals united remain. 
 
 90 
 
SENTENCES OF CONFUSIUS 
 TIME. 
 
 Threefold marches Time on ever: 
 Ling'ring comes the Future nigh us, 
 Dart-like flies the Present by us, 
 
 And the past stands still forever. 
 
 No impatient animating 
 
 Hast his steps if he delay. 
 Curbs not fear nor hesitating, 
 
 Him who hurries quick away 
 No regret, no sacred charm, 
 Gives the standing one alarm. 
 
 Wouldst thou happy be and wise, 
 And your life's race end likewise, 
 Counsel with the ling'ring one, 
 Tools for deeds of him make none; 
 Ne'er the flying choose as friend, 
 Nor the staying one as fiend. 
 91 
 
SPACE. 
 
 Threefold is vast Space extended: 
 Far away, and ceasing never, 
 
 Breadth its stream pours forth unended; 
 Length strives restless on forever; 
 
 Depth still sinking groundless ever. 
 
 They're a picture given to you; 
 Restless strife you must pursue, 
 And exhausted never be, 
 If thou wouldst perfection see; 
 Must in Breadth yourself unfold, 
 If its vastness wouldst behold; 
 Into depth deep must you go, 
 Should existence itself show; 
 Only those who persevere, 
 Gain in fullness what is clear, 
 And in Depth does truth appear. 
 92 
 
BRIDE OF CORINTH. 
 
 From Athens unto Corinth came 
 
 A youth, and hoped though stranger there, 
 To friendship from a kinsman claim. 
 Erst festal kins both fathers were, 
 Who early had proclaimed, 
 And bride and bridegroom named, 
 Their son and daughter trothed pair. 
 
 But will he find a welcome there, 
 
 Or his heart for those favors bleed? 
 For he and his yet heathens are, 
 
 And they baptized in Christian creed. 
 For when new faiths spring up, 
 Is love and trust torn up, 
 As is outrooted loathsome weed. 
 
 93 
 
Now all the house in slumber laid, 
 
 Sire and daughter, save the mother wakes; 
 Received the guest, and welcome bade; 
 Him straightway to his room she takes; 
 And brings him food and wine, 
 Before he seeks to dine: 
 With kind "good night" her 'parture takes. 
 
 Though dainties were for him prepared, 
 
 No joys of appetite of him blessed; 
 Fatigue for food and drink ne'er cared; 
 
 Then on his couch, yet dressed, sought rest., 
 And almost slumbered there, 
 When glode with saddened air, 
 Into the open door a guest. 
 
 Sees by the glimmer of his light, 
 
 Step into's room, with modest tread, 
 
 A maiden dressed and veiled in white, 
 And golden band around her head — 
 
 94 
 
Surprised she halted, and 
 Upraised her snow-white hand, 
 As she beheld him on his bed. 
 
 'Am I," she cries, "such stranger here, 
 
 And nothing told me of the guest? 
 O banished into convent drear! 
 
 And now with shame am I oppressed 
 Sleep, stranger, calmly there, 
 Upon your couch so fair; 
 As came, I'll go to my bequest." 
 
 "Stay, goodly maiden, stay," he cries, 
 
 Uprising quickly from his bed — 
 "Here Seres', Bacchus' gifts are prize, 
 And thou brings Amor here instead. 
 How thou art pale of fright! 
 Come let us see tonight 
 What joyous lives the gods have led. 
 95 
 
"O youth, stay there, thy distance keep; 
 
 No claim enjoyment has for me; 
 
 The last step's ta'en — I'm doomed to weep! 
 
 In mother's sick-bed fancy, she 
 
 Swore convalescent oath, 
 
 That youth and nature both 
 
 Shall unto heaven subjected be. 
 
 "And then the old gods' motley throngs 
 The silent house gave quickly o'er; 
 But one, unseen, in heaven belongs, 
 One Savior on the cross adore. 
 While sacrifice is here 
 Of neither lamb nor steer, 
 But human beings more and more." 
 
 He asks, and every word well weighs, 
 As each one doth his spirit greet; 
 
 "Is it then in this quiet place 
 My own beloved bride I meet? 
 
 9 6 
 
RAINBOW FALLS. 
 See Page 18. 
 
Be mine, mine evermore; 
 The pledge our fathers swore 
 Doth heaven's bliss on us entreat." 
 
 "I never can, good soul, be thine; 
 
 My second sister's meant for thee. 
 When in my heritage I pine, 
 In her embrace, O think of me, 
 Who thinks of only you, 
 And pines with love so true, 
 But soon within her grave shall be." 
 
 "Nay! be it sworn by yonder flame, 
 It Hyman bodes for you and me, 
 To joys and me I'll thee reclaim; 
 Come to my father's house with me. 
 Stay, sweetheart, thine's the right 
 To celebrate tonight, 
 Our long-pledged wedding feast with me.' 
 
 Then vows reciprocal were given; 
 A golden chain she gave him there, 
 
 97 
 
And he would her a cup have given, 
 Artfully made and rare. 
 "No, this is not for me, 
 Yet I'll request of thee, 
 To give of thine a lock of hair." 
 
 When struck the hollow spirit hour, 
 
 She first seemed well, and with delight 
 The dark blood-colored wine would pour 
 And quaff, her eager lips pale-white. 
 Though wheaten bread was there, 
 And kindly offered her, 
 She tasted not thereof a mite. 
 
 In turn to him the cup she brought, 
 
 Who lustfully the proffer drank; 
 While earnestly her love he sought; 
 Ah ! lovesick his poor heart but frank. 
 But still she would resist, 
 Howe'er he would persist, 
 Till weeping on the couch he sank. 
 
She too herself threw on the couch; 
 "Ah, sad to see you in such pain! 
 But oh! do thou my limbs but touch, 
 You'll shrink from what my lips refrain; 
 Although as white as snow, 
 Yet cold as ice is, so 
 Your sweetheart is whom you would gain." 
 
 He clasped her madly in his arm, 
 Through-manned with all love's youthful strengt 
 Then hope that I can get thee warm, 
 
 Though thou wert from the grave me sent. 
 Exchange we breath and kiss! 
 Here love's abundance is! 
 Art cold and feelst my fire unspent?" 
 
 Still closer locked were they by love, 
 
 Alternate mingling joys and tears; 
 She sips his eager flame of love, 
 
 Till each in other lives as feres: 
 And he with strong desire, 
 
 LofC. 
 
 99 
 
Her cold blood sets on fire, 
 Yet for himself no heart-beat hears. 
 
 Meanwhile the mother glides along, 
 Some late work doing it appears; 
 Till at the door she listens long, 
 
 As wondrous sounds approach her ears 
 Of bride and bridegroom moans, 
 Both sad and joyous tones, 
 And stam'ring of love's madness hears. 
 
 To certainty more fully prove, 
 
 She quietly stays near the door; 
 Carressing words, high vows of love, 
 Hears she in wrath, repeated o'er. 
 "But hark! the cock daylight 
 Proclaims; tomorrow night 
 Wilt come again?" And kiss the more. 
 
 No longer could the mother hold 
 
 Her anger; opes the door. "Are there 
 
Such girls here in the house so bold, 
 Who minions to the stranger are?" 
 Then in the door did go, 
 Where, by the lamp's bright glow, 
 She sees — O God! her own child there. 
 
 Then quick the youth in first alarm, 
 
 With her own veil and lawn would hide, 
 And shield the maiden from all harm. 
 But wrested quickly from his side, 
 Up slowly rose the sprite, 
 Full long, with ghostly might, 
 Forth from the couch, and thus she cried 
 
 "Oh mother! hollow words you say: 
 
 So grudge you me this night most fair; 
 From this warm couch drivst me away; 
 Must I awake but to despair? 
 And art thou not content, 
 Though to my grave I'm sent, 
 For you an early shroud to wear? 
 
"My innate judgment drives me e'er 
 
 Out from my dreary confines hither ; 
 Your priests' dull chantings too can n'er, 
 And their prone blessings have weight eithei 
 E'en salt and water cool 
 Not where love's feelings rule; 
 And O! nor can earth cool love either. 
 
 "Erst was this youth my promised token, 
 When Venus' temple graced our land; 
 Ah mother, you the pledge have broken, 
 While on a strange, false vow you stand ! 
 But no God ever hears, 
 Howe'er a mother swears 
 To thus deny her daughter's hand. 
 
 "I'm driven e'er from out my grave, 
 
 This treasure lost to reingage, 
 To love him whom I cannot save, 
 
 With his drained life-blood love assuage. 
 Is this of him then done. 
 
Must I away be gone, 
 To sink down others 'neath my rage. 
 
 4 'Fair youth, no longer canst thou live; 
 Upon this place thou shriv'lest here; 
 I did my chain unto you give, 
 
 Your lock I'll take with me from here. 
 Observe it closely! Aye, 
 Tomorrow thou'lt be gray, 
 But brown wilt thou again appear. 
 
 "Hear, mother, hear my final prayer; 
 Build me a pyre; raise it once more; 
 Ope up my wretched tomb of care; 
 Thus lovers' rest in flames restore, 
 When bright the ashes glow, 
 When high the flames up go, 
 We'll soar up to the gods of yore." 
 
 103 
 
THANKS. 
 
 I'm much obliged — or, thank you — thanks, for short, 
 By random tongues at random idly spoken, 
 As if to pay a tenfold price for trivial token, 
 
 Does riper age a child's politeness sport — 
 
 An impulse of the moment to resort 
 
 To formal etiquette in childhood learned, 
 Oft' lavished oft', on those in secret spurned 
 
 To mock the manners of a parrot court. 
 
 But there are thanks that tongue has never uttered, 
 Loud praise that ne'er an auditory cheers, 
 
 With which some quiet, grateful hearts o'erfiow — 
 
 If, reader, you our booklet read, nor muttered 
 That in it nothing but mere trash appears, 
 
 Our thanks accept that unheard brighter glow. 
 104 
 

 

 
 
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