'iV6 ^yi. /^ 1/ ■t^'^l^-i't LIFE PICTURES OTHER POEMS -BY- Olin Winfield jPage. / NEW LONDON, CONN. 1892. '^^\ ^0^ \o Copyright, 1892, by Olin W. Page. This book is the product from employment of "spare moments," now and then, among the hours of a life, crowded full, it would seem, of busy and absorbing work. Some of it has been written in the sick-room, in intervals from severe pain. The thought was there conceived as a testimonial to kind friends in times when their gentle ministrations seemed God sent. But the work has grown upon me and I offer it to the public. May it bring to others in reading as much interest and pleasure as its preparation has given me. Many of the shorter poems have already been published in periodicals, but the greater part of the work is for the first time put forward. The Author. DEDICATION. To the members of the " Berean Society" of New London, Conn., whose companionship and aid have enabled me to grasp the secret of true living, and to the kind friends, who in the hour of sickness and bereavement have kindly and lovingly fulfilled the injunction to "bear one anothers' burdens," this book is affection- ately inscrilied by The Author. OOn^TElSTTS. Portrait of Author, - . - Frontispiece Preface. Dedication. PART I. The First Christmas Presents, - - 5 Passing Through the Jordan, - - - 9 Twilight and Dawn, - - . . 13 "Sorrowful Yet Rejoicing," ... 18 Thanksgiving Day, 1890, - - - 20 Dreaming, - . - - - - 23 Rest at His Feet, 25 Hosanna to Our King, - - - - 27 The Meaning of the Roses, - - - 29 Song of the Redeemed, - - - - 32 Give Me Your Hand, - . - . 35 The Responsibility, 37 2 Faith Whispers, .... - 42 The Wine Offering, 45 PART II. Remarks, 51 Life Pictures, 53 Trot and Bennie, - - - - 56 The Barefoot Girl, ... - 65 The Brook Song, .... 68 The Star on Her Brow, ... 75 The Wife, 79 The Old and the New, - - - 84 The Death in the Forest, - - - 88 Prelude, 88 The Enlistment, - - - - 89 The Black Horse, - - - 96 The Return, - - - - 100 Marriage, - - . - - 104 Off to Kansas. - - - - 114 The Western Home, - - 117 The Flight, .... 119 Again in New Hampshire, - 128 Vacation Rambles, . . - I30 Legend of Joe English, - - 134 3 CONTENTS. Life Pictures. {Continued.) Saved from Death, - - - 137 Changes, 139 Kevenge, 146 The First Love Again, - - 149 Eonald's Grave, - - - - 157 Postlude, 158 OTHER MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Misconception, 163 Going for the Cow, . - - . 165 "He Will Give Grace and Glory," - - 168 Beautiful Lips, 169 The Class Meeting, 172 The Message of Prayer, - - - 174 Elfie's Letter, 177 The Indwelling Christ, - - - - 179 Death of Baby, 181 Evening Rest, 184 The Year Is Dying, 187 The Bride of Day, - - - " ^90 THE FIRST CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. "Red like crimson, made like snow;' 'Tis the work of Saviour born In the far-off Bethlehem On a lovely Christmas morn. Looking at the crimson berries, In their ruddy, glossy sheen, Peeping out amid the festoons Of the twining evergreen ; And then glancing from the window At the white and spotless snow. As I sit in warmth and comfort Of the firelight's pleasant glow. How a vision comes before me Of a child in manger laid ; Of the first God-given Christmas, Ere an awful debt was paid ; 6 And the shrieking of the storm-king, Whirling snow wreaths round the wall, Dies away to eastern breezes, Swaying leaves of palm trees tall. Then I see a baby nestled. Just the same as any child, Where a mother's eye is resting, Sweet and tender, pure and mild. Sheltered only by a stable. From whose rafters cobwebs hung. Wisps of straw the flooring littered. Careless left where dropped or tiuug. Not the place for suff' ring mother. Not the place for baby boy, But the Christ came poor and lowh'', Not life's riches to enjoy. But a star was shining o'er it, Silver bright it beaming hung, While the earth and heaven were ringing With the songs the angels sung. Then I see three wayworn trav'lers, Long their beards, they're wise and old, But the first of gifts they're bringing, Of frankincense, myrrh and gold. And the first of Christmas presents That the world has ever known, Are, by the wisest of people, At the feet of Christ laid down. These the lessons I am learning, Through the ages handed down : That the best, most joyous Christmas, We shall find through Christ alone ; There was sweetness, there was fragrance, In this offering of old, Mingled with the strong endurance Of the tried and shining gold. Now I see, for little children. For the weak ones of the earth, There are gifts, which we bestowing, Are to Christ of priceless worth. O the gifts of love, with loving Reaching out of helping hands ; Blessed giving, blest receiving, Christmas gifts in Christian lands. 80 I wish you all a Christmas, Glad and merry, I am sure ; Very fragrant, e'en its memories. And as gold undim'd and pure. PASSING THROUGH THE JORDAN. Yes, my Lord, I hear Thy voice, Calling for full surrender, And I will no longer strive 'Gainst love so strong and tender ; Thou art speaking to my soul. And Thy words with fire are wreathed, Bowing down before Thy Spirit What a longing prayer is hreathed : — " Thou hast loved me with love Everlasting Thou hast said, Through the wilderness didst guide me. Out of depths Thy hand hath led. " I am weaker than the weakest, Thou art mighty, strong to hold; Let Thine arms be underneath me, Surely, safely me enfold. 10 " Now I feel Thee close beside me, And Thy hand is clasping mine ; In Thy paths O lead and guide me, To Thy truth my heart incline. " Take me, loving Saviour, take me I Consecrated ! O my King ! Show me now some little message How to carry, or to bring " From this well of Thy salvation Water pure and sweet and clear, That the thirsting ones may drink it While mv Saviour draws them near." 11 PRAY FOR ME. Pray for me? When the stars are gleaming In the silence of the night, List'ning angels watch to gather Threads of gold and pearls of light : Precious jewels in His sight! Threads of gold thy prayers are woven Into cords, whose strength shall be Far beyond death's hand to sever, Strong for good, their power w^e'll see Meeting in eternity. Pray for me! In the gath'ring twilight, As the mystic shadows fall O'er the loveliness of nature, God will hear your softest call; He who heeds the sparrow's fall. 12 Golden cords are strong! 3' woven, Though a prayer is but a thread ; God of love, we bow before Him, Without fear and without dread, For the Saviour's hand has led. Pray for me I When the golden sunshine Fills the morn with sparkling light, Then the dewdrops are like tear drops Shed against the powers of night ; Prayerful tears are pearls of light. Charge o'er us His angels given. Tears and prayers, e'en heart-throbs known, Golden threads and glist'ning jewels, Earnest pleadings at the throne ; He will hold us, all His own. L^i^s^.c-li^^^^^A ■^^■5^^"^ «i9t,jei». 13 TWILIGHT AND DAWN. Have you stood beside a brooklet In the shadows of the night ? Heard the voices of the waters As tliey take their phantom flight? Has the beauty of the cadence, As it trembled on the air, Woke within your heart a longing, Brought to life an earnest prayer? Has a presence, grim and solemn, Spoken of a past that's gone. As you listened to the rippling Of the waters pressing on ? Did you seek, and in the seeking Know that God was brooding there? Was the scene, though darkly shrouded, To your senses passing fair? J4 If you've seen it as I've seen it, If 3'oii know it as I know, Ere the dawning comes upon it, Kindling into life and glow ; Though the night scene holds a beauty. And a presence, felt and known, Of a God who surely loves you. Who would claim you for His own ; Though the stars are shining o'er you, Gem-like in the sky of night, Yet there comes an eager longing For a fuller, clearer sight. God be praised when day is breaking, Backward rolled the glooms of night, And a richer, thrilling beauty, Sun-touched, glows with golden light Fresh'ning zephyrs breathe around you. Fragrant laden by the flowers, AVhere the dewdrops, lovely tear drops, Gathered in the darker hours ; 15 When the songs of praise are swelling, Thrilling, on the trembling air, When you join the feathered songsters Praises singing, filled with prayer : — For your heart holds deep communion With the loving heart of God, And the w^ay that once seemed dreary, Which vour feet but sadly trod, By the waters murm'ring low. When your lips reach down and touch them, Ready for their cooling flow ; All the mists and all the darkness Surely vanished, fled away, In the bright, the lovely dawning Of a pure and gladsome day. Thus our lives; God surely leads us AVhere the living waters flow. And w^here once we walked 'mid shadows There is earnest life and glow. 1() As we bow to take the waters, Thirsting for the pure and good, We are ever higher reaching For true man or womanhood. May the Son be ever shining Through the life which now we live, If come trials, if come sorrows, Still His peace He'll always give ; And we'll know, as we are treading In the path that He has trod, That our steps are heavenward tending, Safely guided by His Word. God is with us, earnest seeker. In each faithful, loving life. In our w^illing rounds of duty. Out of self and free from strife. If uncaring or unloving. Those who see us in the way. Still, with faith in Christ unbounded, We will press on day by day ; 17 For we love our Lord far better Than the joy the world can bring, And each day our prayers are rising To our Saviour, to our King, That He'll lead us safely onward, That He'll bless us in the way, For His arms to safe enfold us. Faithful hearts, with Him to stay. Ah ! Those prayers shall ne'er cease rising, For our hearts His presence know. And our faith unseals the Fountain AVhence the living waters flow. 18 '" SORROWFUL, YET REJOICING." Tears of sorrow, hours of sadness, Heavy mourning blent with gladness, Sometimes this the world calls madness. Hopes of years may pass away, Sunlight's gold be lost in gray, But Christ's love we have alway. Where the rainbow's arch is gleaming. Storm-clouds were with lightnings streaming, But the sun behind was beaming. Through the tears that we have known, Has His rainbow ever shone, Light of promise fiiUer grown. 'Mid tiie showers fresh and vernal, In the light of life eternal, In this glow of light supernal. 19 Hath the soul found deepest cahiis, Though 'mid sorrows and alarms, In the Everlasting: Arms. 20 THANKSGIVING DAY, 1890. There's a voice of praise in our home to-day, The silence is broken, clouds rolled away ; The voice of a wife in pleading of prayer, As sweetest of music now floats on the air ; And the daughter's voice, too, clear and low- toned, Acknowledges Him whom her heart has en- throned. The spell of stillness thro' years that are past Has been broken by prayer, God's power at last, Unsealed lips that were dumb. Beaming eyes And accents of love speak the soul's Paradise, Resting in Jesus and owning His sway ; Together we praise Him this glorious day. 21 The smile of the sun rests down on the earth, The rivers blue waves are dancing with mirth ; And o'er its waters in circles of light Are bright, glancing wings of seagulls in flight ; Lewis' Woods, too, in its brightest array Meets with the river to welcome the day. Gold flecks the shadows 'neath each arching tree; Light crests each wave flowing down to the sea; In each sheltered nook the deepest of green Of the hardy grass-blade still may be seen ; J^oftly it nods in a sweet, loving way, Glad that its Maker has saved till this dav. While the sun shines down on the thankful earth. And the light shines in at each soul's new birth, 22 With thankful hearts, in song, blessing and prayer, We are praising the Lord for tender care ; Thankful for bounty that before us is spread, Thankful for ways in which His hand led. Thankful for life and the blessing of health ; Very thankful for love, hearts' precious wealth ; Thankful for Jesus, who comes to abide ; O thankful to Him whate'er may betide ! Thankful to Father and thankful to Son, Revealed by His Spirit to hearts that are one. 23 DREAMING. When wandering into Dreamland, Oft I have crossed its magic strand ; Seen its meadows, flower tufted, Heard its purling brooklets flowing. Seen its mystic light, weird glowing ; Then, in that fair realm, the life mysterious Sent the warm blood bounding, pulsing Thrilling into joy delirious When I saw its shifting glories ; As in childhood, of Fairyland, I have read in ancient stories. Or to deeper feeling tended, As if earth -life here was ended, Nothing left to weigh me down ; Worldly laws seemed not around me, Earthly forces no more bound me. Time and space were nought in Dreamland ; 24 Into moments years were blending, Fast were scenes or ages ending ; As in Sahara's desert land Before the simoom flees the sand ; Where only plain was stretching wide, And where was seen but level way. Rolled billows, like an ocean's tide. Or mountains heaped, or valleys lay. Many, rich and rare the visions 'Neath nights' starlight have been wrought. Many hopes have found fruition That by day were vainly sought. As the morning's light to nought Makes its glories only seeming, Is this life but only dreaming When the present rolls away And to-day be yesterday? When our life from us is fleeting As the fabric of a dream. Do we, will we seek a meeting In the dawn beyond the stream? M. 25 REST AT HIS FEET. God hold thee, dear friend, that the light He has given, Unclonded shall shine in the depths of thy heart ! Now fallen from thee is each chain He hath riven. For asking His wisdom to thee He'll impart. Rest thee, dear friend, He has promised His guiding, Just rest thee and trust in His promises sweet ; If He asks thee to stay, how blest in abiding, Drawn close to His side or to sit at His feet. Wait thee, dear friend, 'twas a Mary that listened. Reclining and still, but w^ith heart deeply stirred ; 26 Pure, earnest eyes, that were love lit, soft glistened. As His gracious lips dropped each promise- linked word. Many, dear friend, are the Marthas, to please Him Burdened with care; hut still nearer His heart Are the Marys that wait till " Go ! " He has bid them. For chosen by them is the far better part. Remember, dear friend, thy sky may be darkened. Yet sheltered there wait, rest in His care to-day. Trust in the Word to which thy soul hearkened ; From the sun of His love shall each cloud flee awav. 27 HOSANNA TO OUR KING, Christ, the Saviour, poor and lowly, Full of meekness, pure and holy, He, the Son of God, a King ! Bright the Star-gem of the East Down from heaven sheds its peace, AVith a glory ne'er to cease, As the angel voices sing. Children of the Lord, our King, Shout your praises, shout and sine Wake the music ! Louder ring Glad Hosannas to our King! Hosanna ! Hosanna ! Hosanna to our King! When the world, in darkness dwelling. Palms were waving, shouts were swelling 28 AVelcome as an earthly king ; Then the garden soil was wet With the anguished, bloody sweat, Falling down on Olivet, Our deliverance to bring. Crucified, the Lord of glory Saves from sin, the old, sweet story. Templed in our hearts He dwells Eastern palm and western palm. Loving tendrils intertwine. Branches of the one True Vine, And His praise now richly swells. 29 THE MEANING OF THE ROSES. Written for the Festival of Roses, held by the children of the Cheerful Givers' Mission Band of New I,ondon, Conn., June, i8gi. Dear to us are the sweet wild flowers, The blossoms of gardens, too ; From the peeping pink. Whose life is to drink, The drops of the morning dew. To the cast-down eye Of the summer sky, In the violet's petals blue. Sweet to us are the scented flowers. In their fragrance fresh and bright ; For these blossoms fair Tell of loving care Of Him who robes them with light 30 Yes ! from garden and grove They are speaking of love : God's love ! listen to them to-night. Though sweet are the blossoms of May, Yet richer the budding June ; For the roses come, To answer the hum. When wild bees their strains attune ; Then these roses red, Say blood has been shed, And the way to heaven is shown. Roses pink are blushing for you Who His loving teachings shun He wants you to-day To go in His way, The wa}' of the Crucified One ; Your feet should be light. The path shineth bright, Not only to walk but to run. 31 Roses white tell of cleansing from sin, Of a heart unwilling to roam ; Of a satisfied rest On the Saviour's breast ; His voice invites you to come ; Of heaven's own gate, Where the angels wait. Rejoicing to welcome you home. SONG OF THE REDEEMED. When I sought God's grace for pardon For my foul and loathsome sin, Then through Christ, our full Atonement, Faith I found to enter in ; And the peace of full forgiveness Had I, trusting in His Word ; Then my heart grew soft and tender At the coming of my Lord. There is cleansing, there is healing, In the precious, precious blood ; Thus I found it; yes! I found them When I gave up all to God. Jesus, blessed Saviour, freed me From a sad and weary load, Called me lovingly and sweetly To a pure, a blest abode ; 83 And I gladly, so gladly, Followed as I heard the call, Followed Him where'er He lead me, Followed Him, mv all in all. In the first, the blessed leading Of His love, I felt so near, There was naught to mar my comfort. And my soul was void of fear; But I found as on I journeyed In the paths where thorns were strown. Coward fears were yet within me, And my lips would sometimes moan. Yes! I found that inward strivings. Fears and outward alarms Ever marred the blest abiding. Or sweet resting in His arms ; And I prayed, I cried to Jesus, On His breast my head to lean. Pure my heart to make and holy. For the blood to keep me clean. 34 O the willing, loving resting I have found in Him to dwell ; () the bliss of surely trusting That He doeth all things well ; O the blessed, blessed fullness Of the love so freely given ; O such joy and peace, a foretaste Of eternal life, of heaven. Yes ! I'm trusting, He is keeping. Surely cleanseth me the blood. And the Spirit is abiding. As He promised in His Word. 35 GIVE ME YOUR HAND, "Is thine heart right, as my heart is with tliy heart? * * * If it be, give me tliine liand."— II Kings, 10:15. If the Saviour has redeemed you, If you're walking in the light, Shall we coldly pass each other? Do you even think it right? If the fault is yours, unthinking, Tlien you've left good seed unsown, If the pressure and the clinging Of your helping liand's unknown. Has Christ called you to His vineyard? Has He washed you in His blood? Has He whispered, "My beloved?" Are you trusting in His Word? Then should not our hands in meeting Show the common tie of love Out of pure hearts, having meaning Of rejoicing from above ? 86 There is strength and there is blessing, In the Christian path to-day, As our hands shall meet together While we're passing on our way. Many times has Christ released souls, Bound in darkness of the night, When the key was given in clasping Of the hand that let in light. Pledge your hand unto the Master That it freely may reach forth. With no fear of loss or soiling, Without question of world-worth; Reach and clasp in cordial greeting All who are within His call. Let Him own it and you use it, Strength'ning many, lest they fall. Should the chain of fashion's forging Bind the souls His blood has freed ? Should the laws of social standing Blind the eyes to Christians' need ? Will you then withhold the resting Of your faithful hand in mine. While we all need help and banding In this march to life divine? 37 THE RESPONSIBILITY. There's a conflict ever raging, There's a hard and bitter strife In the war that sin is waging 'Gainst the good of every life. Periled ones are standing, laughing, On the brink of woe and death; Heedless, as they're gaily quaffing Of their wine, with songs and mirth, Of the many sad hearts bleeding, Of lives lost to those who love. Of the many lips whose pleading Falt'ring cries to Him above. For the drink-curse ever sweeping, Like a licensed, pois'ning flood. Fills our land with anguished weeping ; Its bloated hand, stained with blood. 88 Ever signing deeds of quitclaim To its master, fiend of hell, For souls wrecked, for lives lost in shame, While men say they're doing well. Doing well I "Where is thy brother?" Hear that voice that's sounding now? Are you keeper of another? Is the Cain-mark on your l)row? "Am I," will you God thus answer, " My brother's keeper ? " So said Cain, You for this moral cancer Vote, though thus you strike him dead. I'm not alone, you say? This hear, " His blood crieth from the ground ! " " The sin is in the heart ! " Thus near To you sentence may be found. Doing well? O may God forgive Those who know not what they do ! Blinded ones who voicing license live. Filling other lives witli woe. 39 O for men who love souls better Than great stores of glitt'ring pelf; Men who dare break every fetter, Though the cost be death to self. Men who dare to vote as freemen, And yet dare not shirk the right; . Men who lift up voice as Stephen, Seeing Christ, though stoned for sight. 'i\^#' i-llliii> #^^ 40 HEART ECHOES OF MUSIC, Dear friend, there are touches and thrilhngs of music, Chords that answer the hand of the loving Father, Strings never swept save l)y the hreath of the Spirit ; Not Hke a wind-harp, wav'ring with strains wild and vagrant, Now softly throbbing, trembling with joy exstatic. As when perfumed breeze floats near a sum- mer sunset. And yet again shrieking or sobbing or wailing In the rougher breathings of autumn or winter. The strings that are kept for the use of the • Maker, 41 Shall thrill with the gladness of touches eternal, Joy and peace, deep, full, like an ocean's inflowing, Making music forever, and faith abiding Shall cast out remembrance and live in the present ; Live in the fullness of the Spirit's indwelling. Resting, sweet resting, in Arms Everlasting, Being obedient, in full consecration. The holiest entered, the veil rent asunder, 'Neath the blood of the sprinkling, the High Priest our Saviour. 42 FAITH WHISPERS. Could I see as see the angels, And write with more than mortal fire, Still an unworthy transcription Of a theme that ever is higher. What do the angels feel of salvation ? They were never redeemed like me! Surely they know not the priceless afltection Of Jesus, who died on the tree. "Glory to God in the highest" is ringing, " Peace on earth, good will toward men I " For those in the shadow of death, and in darkness. The great light is shining now, as then. " Blessed are they who have not seen," And vet believe in Christ, our Lord ; 43 Blessed are they who walk with Him, Doing the things of Holy Word. Will you look for signs and wonders now? Grasp, then, for the faith that will save, And reach out for those now in sin. Until saved from death in the grave. Do you think the time of miracles past? Look you I See His redeeming grace In peace, that comes from newness of heart, Loving God, it beams from the face. Abiding in Christ, and He in us. Pray the prayer that He has given : — " Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done In earth, as it is in heaven," Then go forth with a brave, true heart, In which their meaning is fully shrined Then live your life, doing your part. And the kingdom of God vou'll find 44 Is ever still nearer growing, Nearer to earth again the strain Ringing through heavenly courts above, As it onee rang on Bethlehem's plain. 45 THE WINE OFFERING, "In the holy place shalt thou cause the strong wine to be poured unto the Lord for a drink offerinsr."— Nu3r. 2S : 7. God, to Thee our hearts incHne, That we may pour the strong, sweet wine Out in the holy place; An off' ring meet for Thee we'd bring, Our God, our Saviour and our King, Then fill us with Thy grace. We would not, O Thou Holy One, Offer to Thee, as to Thy Son Was offered at the cross, A bitter draught ; myrrh with the wine ; Deceiving man, not the Divine, To our eternal loss. 46 If manhood, full and brimming up With wine of life, shall fill the cup, The wine of strength or grace; Earnest heart, obedient will. The best of our manhood for Thee still, Thine in the holy place. If woman's hand with woman's grace, Potent for good or to deface, The chalice full shall hold ; Loving of heart, with fervent glow. Thy purest service hers to know. Hers not to mar but mould. Not mixed with bitter worldly strife, Nor with fashion's frivolous life, Nor under passion's sway ; For sensuous life we would not plan. We would glorify Thee, not man, The wine poured sweet each day. To Thee to give our first and best. In Thee our hearts to fully rest. Kept by Thy given grace ; 47 Service of love to pour strong wine From choicest fruit, strength of the Vine, Sweet in the holy place. Ah ! the branches that closest cling To the life-giving Vine, and spring Freed from the crimson stain, Laden with fruit shall bear for Thee Still through time and eternity An ofF'ring to remain. ^aTi %% -^ LIFE PICTURES. 51 e.e]v:jPle.k:s. In this poem, or what might be more cor- rectly, i^erhaps, be designated as " poems within a poem," I have not sought to tell the story of my life, but only to bring out some of the scenes and scenery my memory dwells upon in retracing the experiences of former days. I have tried to delineate their characteristics faithfully, and as they were seen when my life was among them. I have not taken much advantage of the poet's liberty of change, for I have wished to be true both to nature and to life. The only places I could be charged with doing so is where I have used the words lakelet or lake. It is well-known that among the dwellers of northern New England, and in New Hamp- shire, especially, every body of still water is called a pond if it is not very large, indeed. Thus Winnipiseogee is called a lake, for it is a large body of fresh water where steamers can run over a course of thirtv miles, but Massabe- 52 sic, until lately, has been called a pond, though well entitled to be dignified with the title of a lake, for it is about twenty-seven miles around it, and steamers run eight miles in almost a direct course. Why it sliould have borne the name of Massabesic Pond so long without ques- tion no one knows. Many other really pictur- esque little lakes are called ponds. In other countries they would have some beautiful or worthy name terminated with the word lake. The names Mosquito Pond, Harvey's Pond, Nutt's Pond, Joe English Pond, do not convey the right or a fair idea of these beautiful little gem lakes, set in as lovely scenes as one could wish to feast their eyes upon. In Florida the reverse is known, as it was quaintly expressed by a resident of New Hampshire on returning from a long sojourn in the South, " everything in the way of a body of still water as big as a kitchen floor is called a lake." I have tried, tlierefore, to convey the true idea without regard to the local designation. The Author. 53 LIFE PICTURES. On the wall^J of ineni'ry's chamber, painted by a master's hand ; Not the pictured scenes of fancy in a bright, ethereal land; Not a scenic artist's copy, where effect is skillful shown, Only by a shallow seeming of a way not fully known ; But the scenes of life's own tracing, clear and sharji in every stroke. Showing there the deepest meaning where the brightest light has broke. By the boldness of their showing 'gainst the densest shadows' play, As the somber gloom of woodland clearest outlines the midday. 54 Should 1 fail, not skilled in tracing, all these lines to reproduce, Still I wish to bring a pleasure, may they also have a use ; And though simple, although rough-hewn, many scenes to you may seem. Still they had their birth in real life, not the web and woof of dream ; And when viewing you may tind there, woven in among the lines, AVords and thoughts of earnest meaning, pregnant of the aftertime^, Should there, then, no deeper feeling than poetic thought be stirred, Let them fade as all things earth-born, sinking down like wounded bird. Though the wings of fiincy's pluming far out- speeds the eagle's flight. If they soar not in the sunlight they will end in darkest night; If romance holds forth a false light, it shines out amid the gloom. 55 Still it dances o'er corruption, leading only to the tomb ; Glim'ring out from dark morasses, where the trav'lers lose their way, Fading, dying if you hold it in the light of present day ; Then e'en realities trifles may outweigh this film of air; Still a twining spray from fancy forms a wreath exceeding fair. Let me, now, before your vision bring one happy summer day. Just one day of peaceful resting, on a toil- some, weary way ; Happy day of happy meaning, like a star of light to me, Shining out upon the waters of a bitter, rest- less sea ; For the chafing, tossing, throbbing of my life was stilled that day, Like tlie peaceful, sunlit lakelet, 'neath the sky of blue and gray. 56 On whose shores I stood in castiim' out the woven fishino line, Wliile sweet nature Hushed with beauty, like a love- won, tender sign : — TROT AND BENiME. When I watched the bright'nin» morning, Felt its bounding pulses thrill, Saw it shoot its golden arrows, Quiv'ring o'er each Granite hill ; Then the veiled and night-bound forest, Whisp'ring stirred to meet the assioned summer's glow; m Maiden, conninof o'ev life's lesson In its first and fairest look, Idly straying, in your playing, In the waters of the brook ; As the Avaters of the brooklet Fast into the river iiow. So your maidenhood is passing Into woman's life and glow. Barefoot maiden, now life's sunshine Brightly plays upon your brow, Let your lips be true and truthful, And your , heart but pureness know. Though life's lesson fraught with sorrow Sadly sometimes may be wrought, Let each day be ever bringing AVorthy gain in deed and thought. The scenes of my youth the brook shines through, like threads of silver gleam, Tlie tangled glen of the past is seen, a sweet but far-off dream ; The thickets, the plains, the dusky woods^ where laughing waters glide, Or dimple and swirl, or silently steal by the grassy side ; In daring play it leaps from the rocks, show'ring a thousand gems, And the cascade laughs a tinkling peal, wash- ing each trunk and stem Of tree and flower, whose life is fed by the flying crystal spra}, And tlie long, rank grass, a drooping plume, 'tis swaying night nnd dav. I've seen the babl)ling waters run o'er the the yellow sands at noon, I've heard its weird and mystic tones under the sheen of the moon ; Known it when the golden glory crimson flushed the sky of June, When its chords of nmrm'rous music with the blackbird's were attuned ; Seen it in the wild December, lying fettered, - cold and still, Jint its heart beneath was throl>l»ing with the old, impetuous will ; Then I heard it loudly roaring when the south wind set it free ; And in all its moods I loved it, and it gave its song to me : — THE BROOK SONG. Silver drops and crystal spray, Stop your crowding and flying this wa}' I Be very quiet a uK^ment, I say ! For I'm sure I saw a spotted trout Softly stealing in and out Among the rocks of gray and pearl, Below the place where we dance and whirl ; AVe'll press his sides in a fondling way ; He's very shy of our boist'rous play ; We'll wash his spots till they gleam and glow Bright on his armor of silver, you kn(^w. In the softened light of the pool, Watching, half sleeping, dreamy and cool, P>ut (juickly alert, for he's no fool; 69 On orange-red fin he'H poising nigh Seeing the foam flecks go floating by ; AVhere the dense alders our way embowers, Its serrated leaves and catkin flowers Just dipping tips in their dainty way, He lazily spends the summer day ; But we cannot stay, we must away. So on we glide, so lightlj^ gay. Come and look among the sedges, But be careful of soft edges ; Safe alone the higher ridges Wliere the flower-starred meadow lulls to sleep ; Sharp of ear and strong to leap. Clad in suit of darkest green. Is the queerest thing you've seen ; And he croaks and grumbles, too, Till he makes us feel so blue. That we're glad to get away From the meadow flowers gay. Glad once more to be at play, Rippling, laugliing, as we stray. 70 See the wliit'ning groups of birches, Tossing heads, as pride of riches, Showing silvery, feath'ry stretches ; Leaves of glossy green and silver sheen. Up the sloping hillside clearly seen, Waving back the glinting gleain and fiasli, Of our laughing, sun-kissed wavelets' dash ; Whisp'ring, calling, beckoning, singing. Back the winds sweet messages bringing. Still aloof in proud but tender grace, While our heart would shrine their form and face. 'Neath the drooping willows look, In the cool and shady nook. Where the green-walled shadows mock. All the sun's fierce means and ways For to force our secret jilace ; Here in silence cool and deep Quietly we wish to sleep ; Depth of slumbrous shadows seek. When across our placid cheek Scratch the water-skater's feet ; 'Xeath his touch the dimples meet, 71 Till we laughing slide away Where the si)arkling sunbeams play. Sweet are the days of the summer's sun, Of the birds' sweet songs, of the bees' deep hum, When as l^eauty's rivals the flowers come ; When roses blush as the wooing breeze Softly toys under the whisp'ring trees ; When the columbine and wild bluebell Nod to each other across the dell; When tremulous June breathes love's fond sigh, Close to the lips of ardent July ; Ah ! sweet are those days so laden with love Running with joy wherever we rove. When the snow-stars softly falling, Winds and winter days are calling. Then the crystal ice-yoke galling. Binds us hard and fast and deep ; And o'er summer's grave we weep. As we see tlie storm sliroud drifted Where the Hly's head was Ufted In the morn of yesterday ; Oh ! so soon to fade away ! Its loveliness and its perfumed breath Buried in the pallid chill of death I Cold in the ice fast l)0und we must stay, Vanished the past of frolicsome play, But in the smile of the bright spring day. The breath shall come of the Southland warm, Loosing the fetters of chilling storm ; Aha ! we'll shout in our rising pride, Brimming o'er full, like a river's tide ; Dashing like a wild, riderless steed, Foaming and fierce, fast onward to speed ; But springtime's balm shall still our wild wrath. Singing we'll run in the old-time path. 73 Sometimes we look at a lovely sight with blended pleasure and pain, It is to us a sacred thing, and yet it is sold for gain : — Ah! once I saw in the white moonlight a maiden wondrous fair, From her low-crowned hat, on her forehead set, flashed a silver star. Oh ! it was a glowing picture for a poet's worthy theme, Of old seen in the creation of an artist's angel dream ; Pictured softly in that moonlight, seeming pure and true and good, Standing there a lovely maiden with the charms of womanhood. Yes! back of the darkened shading I see the clear-cut face. And that shining star looms up afar, before the world's disgrace : — Oh ! the love of gold ! 'twas the mother's fault ; a wedded lie ; 74 A sorrowful life of legal sin, one long and hopeless sigh ; Then maddened flight ; a whirling down to deeper shame and stain ; Ah then I I said, though the world should scoff, a friend I would remain. And dared to search the haunt of shame for the friend of former years, And plead with her till her feet returned, though sad with doubts and fears. 'Twas then to rouse the faihng strength the following lines were penned, And amid the darkened scenes of sin a ray of light to send. We cannot stand on the ocean's brink, and cast a stone away. But that the throb of its crystal heart shall reach to far Cathay ; We may not do one action of life, though hid from mortal eye. But it shall inove the atoms of time through all eternity ; The prayers to-day and the helping hand shall reach through the veil of years, And keep from the eyes of many unborn fountains of unshed tears : — THE STAR ON HER BROAV. There's a vision, bright and stainless, Back in years of long ago, Shining 'midst the silv'ry sheening Of the moonbeams' softened glow ; Pure and unstained as the snow. From the time of long ago. Comes the vision of a maiden. With a star upon her brow. Years that have passed, time still passing, Shows a pathway vainly trod ; Por her steps have wandered wildly. Far from truth and faith and God. He alone of Cross and Rod, He alone, of Holy Word, He can guide the steps so erring, Fill with peace the life so void. 70 for truth, faith and purity Of those years of long ago, When the star of life was beaming Briglit and unstained on her brow ! Unrecalled the past must go ; Yet may time in onward flow Show at last, in fadeless splendor, God's own star upon her brow. Where the yellow, sweeping waters of the Mississippi swell. Rolling past the dark, dense forest interspersed with prairie dell. In a thriving Western city is the one regained, content ; And the life once plunged in darkness is now finding better vent. In its ways of willing service, in a home-life once unknown ; But the maiden of the moonlight, ere the bitter seed was sown. She is dead, and only memory shining through the waste of years, Falls like moonbeams on a statue o'er the grave of manv tears. Let me bring a fireside picture, full of softly shaded lines, Blended to harmonious meaning, as in music's dearest chimes ; The cloud effect of years not dark'ning, only toning the scene ; While a pure and restful spirit, half defined and half unseen. Hovers as a household vision, like an angel hovers near. Till the sense of joy substantial far outweighs the shadowed fear. And a peace we understand not, yet we know is dwelling there. Fills the heart with earnest seeking; loving hearts are full of prayer. God is love, and love must be, then, such a true and holy thing. Or its life will flee in grasping, and the husk no pleasure bring. Love is not a burning passion born and reared in selfishness. Seeking for itself a blessing ere it would the other bless : 78 He who loves true he will suffer that the loved one know not pain, He will go forth to his own loss if the dear one is to gain ; He who looks not, then, on woman as a sacred thing of trust, Cannot know the wealth of loving, and shall fail at love's true test. More than twenty years ago, and still the picture fair I see. The brow of arching sweetness, the bride who stood so near to me; The tender, curving lips, love's portals of the tremulous soul. Giving in pure, modest richness an offering complete and whole. The trials and the sadness of disappointment's darkest hour, The pangs or benumbing stillness of affliction's awful power, Have not ruptured or corroded, but the color's brighter grown, And we're pressing on together for the starred, immortal crown : — 79 THE WIFE. The lover may breathe his passionate lay, As restless with sighs as the sobbing sea; The loved one's eye> dim the stars of the sky When the wine-glance of love surrenders the kev. The golden soul of the sweet night may swing Its radiant disk o'er the lovers' way, Where the drooping arms of the pine tree break Its glancing light into glittering spray. Its beams may shine on the green, trailing vine, 'Neath whose shaded arch the warm blood may flush The dark, southern cheek with a richer glow Than the fruit shall know in its ruddy blush. 80 The myrtle may tell, where soft breezes swell, And the olive a sweet secret reveal ; But the stars and the moon hold not alone The depth and richness of love's truest seal. The firelight shines from the hearthstone of home, The warmth of its flame more clearly to prove The best of life is the true-hearted wife, The love of home the holier love. A maiden of grace, in soft, floating lace, Entrancingly fair, you may win and wed ; But ftiirer still, when with hearty good-will, The bare, dimpled arms are moulding the bread. The love should increase, with deepening peace, The loved one who meets you and greets you more fair. When in modest worth, with neatly plain dress, Like silk from the loom the smooth, shining hair. 81 The true wife of the home a fire may feed, More glowing and warm, more sacred a flame, Than e'er by virgin was tended or known On vestal aUar, whatever the ftime. The love of God and the love of nature, in its, higher form, Seems near akin. The flashing lightning and thunder of the storm We look upon as worthy of His majesty ; if with fear We quake, we say, as Jacob of old, surely the Lord is here And dreadful is this place, and shrink as shrank the Israelite host From Sinai's burning mount, and deem, too, we hear God's voice almost. As they then heard from smoke and light- nings, and thundering's jar ; Forgetting, as they forgot, when passed the elemental war. 82 Ah ! if we would, in remembrance, linger; and listening there, Dread utterance of the law once ceased, love's sweetness we would share. We should find, as did Elijah, on Horeb's mountain high. In the still small voice, in solitude. His pres- ence draweth nigh. In the great strong wind that swept the mount, the rifted, broken rock, The burning, flaming, wondrous 'fire, and the awful earthquake's shock, God was not ; they only passed before Him, servants of His will ; If, in nature, we would hear His dearest voice, we must 1)6 still. When, in harmony with little things, we come to know God's plan, We note the grass and see the many hues of fiowers spread for man ; Watching their increase, then we come to know that thev do not grow 88 By any inner force, grace or w'lW of their own selves to know ; They work with him ; their true development and beauty His will, Giving, with upturned look or reverent bow, their best ; He doth fill ; God's smile is in the lily's cup, and in the rose's petaled form. And in the varied-tinted, sweet breathed blossoms of night and morn. Fragrant lives I they are God's bow of prom- ise spanning all tlie earth, Holding fast the rainl>ow promise of the skies ; their wondrous worth Still more enhanced : their graceful curves a a message of loving care, A message from Judea, from the King's son to the King's child here. His living, growing, glowing word, ever new from day to day. Belting all the earth, fadeless, though thrones and ages pass away. 84 Ah I if some promise o-lven sliould be written on your heart, Wliat a fragrance and a beauty to your life it would impart ! THE OLD AND THE NEW. A new heart also will 1 give you, and a new spirit will I put within you; and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh.— Ezekiel 36:26. Thou heart of fire, heart of flame, Tell, O tell me whence you came? Whence this glowing, burning zeal, Which you now so keenly feel? What has made you feel and know For the depths of others' woe? What has made you seek to win Straying souls from paths of sin ? Why should you this task essay ? Life is fleeting, day by day ; Naught of gain in this to self. Neither fame nor ease nor wealth ; Then, heart of fire, heart of flame, Tell, O tell me whence vou came ? So Listen, then, and hearken well, While a simple tale I tell : — Once, you know, I wandered wild, Sometimes fierce, and sometimes mild Wayward moods of pride and scorn Killed each rose but left a thorn ; Selfishness fast held in thrall Manhood's best and nature's all ; Blighting breath of sinful storm, Chilling fast my beatings warm ; Love, alone, its watching kept, Else my fading hope had slept. For to change my halting way In earth's potions did not lay ; For the peaceful, even life Ever seemed to die in strife. Then a day of darkness came, Blighted hopes and burning shame ; On the storm of passion swept, Hope was lost and manhood wept. O, the storms of darkest night ! When the clashing forces 'fright ! Wiien the winds in madness swirl, 86 Life and death together whirl ! When the lightning's bolt is struck Through the heart of hardest oak ! Shattered heart, so torn and rent, Broken heart, that never bent, Heart, the forces of the storm Opened to the sunlight warm ; For this heart, shattered, riven. Soon received the liyrht from heaven. Yes ! God meant that I should know Blessed Lord, who loved me so. There was power to ease each pain, Out of death bring life again ; Binding up the bruised heart, Taking out all sting and smart; Power to take the darkened way, Light it as a glorious day. And He even willed it so, Heart of mine, His will to know ; Life of His, in love to move. Willing life to know His love : Obedient life his love to prove, Holv life to dwell in love ; 87 Tliis the heart that He has given, Fired witli love, atlanie for heaven. We read that all things work together for good for which we pray, In the lives of those who love Him, safe abiding day by day ; Bat the careless or defiant, when their living page we scan. Sometimes shows an awful darkness, seared and scarred, as under ban; And we see, e'en for the present, God was wiser far than we, For the pleasure seeker finds not, while our lives are wide and free. Let me sweep aside the curtain and reveal to you a sight, Hid away among life's pictures ; more of dark- ness than of liy-ht : — THE DEATH IN THE FOREST. PRELUDE. Fling out the wide folds of the banner of worth, The starry -bright flag of the South and the North! For red blood is flowing like wine from the lees; Fling out its bright stripes, let it float on the breeze ! Oh ! thou nation of stars, how dimmed thy clear light. When the cannon-wreathed smoke first hid from our sight That flag, which on Sumter came fluttering down. Though caught by the bravest and to the breeze thrown. The fire-breath of war from the thunder had broke, And the nation had reeled and paled 'neath the stroke 89 For a moment, but not in cowering fear, 'Twas blood surginii' heartward when conflict is near. Tlien from handet and hill came hurrying feet, Through village and city, tramp! tramp I through each street Marched blue-coated soldiers, while bright, burnished steel 8hone sharp in the sunshine, or flashed as they wheel. The voice of the Soutli spoke in hatred and wrath, The brave northern eagle stern-barring the path ; While the battle-flames that 'round Sumter had rolled Kindled hearts with its breath to the daring of old. THE ENLIST.MENT. Where the stern hills of New Hampshire, (Irey and rocky, sweep and curve. *)0 Darkened by the spruce and hemlock ; Where the pine-crests toss and wave In as sharp a blast from winter As is known on Greenland's coast, With the sun behind the ice-tields To the shiverino- native lost. AVhere e'en 'neath the summer sunsliine Hardly disappears the snow, But around tlie glaciers' edges Fragrant clovers rankly grow, And the stretching sweep of pasture, Where the herds contented feed 'Mong the nodding honeyed blossoms ; Where the l)rawling brookways lead Daring fisher of the trout streams Through a rough and periled waj'^ When descending at the twilight Where he climbed in l)roadened day. Steep and rugged frown the mountains, Towering o'er each rocky glen. With their tops wrapped in a mantle. Like tlie drifting mists from fen 91 When it rises in the dawning 'Long a river's winding way ; Floating, whirhng, till the purple Transient shows through fleecy grey, Lighting up with roseate glory 'Neath the sunset's ardent glance; Or when crowned by autumn snow-storms, Flashinii' like a distant lance. 'Mid these grandest scenes of nature, When the war-notes throbbing broke, Lived a youth, on manhood's threshold; As the mountain echoes woke Responsive voices of the hills Flinging Vjack the drum-rolls' call, In his heart re-echoed deeper ; Martial Are, to do or fall ! Bred to deeds of strength and daring, And to sutler and endure. Weary, hard and toilsome tramping From Winnipiseogee's shore. Through the forests, o'er the mountains, Times of hunting, fishing, camping. Trying every nerve and muscle ; Bringing into ready school All that makes men, when most needed, Quick to think, alert and cool. Only in his moral training He had not known discipline, But in that free, country living Tempted not by grosser sin ; Only child of doting parents. Who would every wish supply. He had not reached, strong and stal)le, To the place where self must die. Or be kept in that subjection That the truest manhood knows, Caring less for self-indulgence Than respect to suffer loss. Thus the life of Ronald Warland, Let me call him by that name, When the call for men was sounding ; Very commonplace and tame. When the bugle-notes were ringing. Or the drum corps rattling play. Was the quiet, even living. 93 When, in fency, far away 'Mid the scenes of camp and marching, Where the mystic Southland lay, Fancies formed of fame and glory Born from out the deadly fray. There were tender ties to sever If he listened to this call, For a fair and loving maiden, Too, in him, would give her all; Day by day suspense to suffer, One, whose joys were all too few, In whose heart the seed was lying Dormant, of a woman true ; Born to love, but born to suffer, Loving much, but self-restrained; One whose heart, though slowly bleeding. And with feelings deeply pained. Would grow sweeter in the trial ; One whose soul would surely rise To the sacred best of woman : Patient waiting ; sacrifice. When the hours of youth and manhood Mingle as a fount and stream, 94 Not to sober circumspection Is each judgment what would seem Best for him whose hopes are floating To the haven most desired, And what looks an ark of safet}^ By the glowing sunrise fired. When the sunset comes upon it 'Tis but driftwood on the shore, And the hopes are lost forever. Lost? Yes, gone for evermore ! Ronald Warland ! Ronald AVarland ! Could you've seen the cost that day When you signed enlistment papers, Donned the blue to meet the grey, Shrinking back, though you had counted Death the price, or loss of limb. You'd have thought it far too heavy For a youthful dream of fame; Even though your country called you Had you known what you must give. Then your heart had failed within yon, Hope had died, though you must live. 95 In the cavalry enlisted Loving hearts would speed him on, Busy hands would form him comfort During days he should be gone. After weeks of drill and marching, Breaking in the raw recruit, He was ordered on to Concord As the city on the route From which taking transportation For the seat of war to go. Then came partings from some loved ones Kiss on lips and cheek and brow. Clinging hands, that ne'er in meeting. Might each other's grasping know In the future darkly shaded. Where alone could cast a glow, Hope, the morning-star of ages, Hope, that cheers the heart of years ; Hope and Love are two immortals. In whose union perish fears. Only of the dearer loved ones. Dearest loved one of them all. She would o;o with him to Concord ; 96 Hers the last, the tender call When the train was outward speeding; Hers the last sight of his face ; Hers the smile to cheer him onward, Though hot tears displace its grace. How could they in such a moment Think the human heart would dare Cast a cloud of vile suspicion, Weave 'round them a deadly snare ? As the innocence of childhood, Rustic j'outh and maiden, pure. In the freedom of well-doing, In this hour of making more Than common sacrifice ; death's hour Perhaps, the last, the parting time ; And parting gun might be the knell Of a crushed heart, when ruddy waves, Flame bound, death's stream should swell. THE BLACK HORSE. Step by step we need not follow, For the lesson is not there. Brave he was and a true soldier ; Had he fallen, many a tear Had bedewed the recollection Of an honored soldier's grave; But he won for gallant service There, a stripe upon his sleeve, Under Sheridan, the dashing Leader of the brave and true. Men with lives for love of country Daily pledged to dare and do. Once they swept in early morning Through a village of the foe, Who, surprised, fled in a panic Scatt'ring as they onward flew ; Ronald Warland, light and wiry, Mounted on a heavy horse. Fresh, a night of resting after; A beast, though, whose lazy course Would ofttimes peril his rider; Lack of spirit and of dash ; Saw a Southron trooper fleeing, And with resolution rash l^ared leave his comrades and follow Covetino- the liorse lie rode 98 As he saw his speed and action Weighted bv a heavv load. Fine Umbed as an Arab courser, Black as night, of easy speed, A proud and tier}' stallion, A soldier's ideal steed. On him were the marks of usage, Of hard riding during night. Else it had been vain to follow As to follow eagle's flight. Even then he seemed but playing, As if drawing Ronald on, Till he reached a sloping hillside; Sped the black steed swiftly down While his rider, surely trusting In the sureness of his stride. On his neck the l)ridle flinging Faced around in the mad ride ; Each his hands held a revolver; Steady as a statued centaur Sat he in his saddle seat; Twice the deadly bullet's whistle, Did our soldier's hearing greet, 99 When the black horse, the sure-footed, Stepped upon a rolling stone ; Riderless, swift he dashed away. With his rider headlong flung; Death had met him in that moment. And the steed a mile away Stopped, cropping the tender herbage. Was our soldier's mount that day; Through the rest of that great struggle Carried through the whole campaign, Swift and strong, and so sure-footed That he never slipped again. As the straws are l)lown and lifted By the toying summer ))reeze, Or the leaves in autumn woodland Drifted, falling from the trees, So the course of him who journeys Following life's winding way Where the breath of passion urges As his inclinations sway ; So was Ronald ; I have written Of this warlike episode Not to show his careless daring, 100 And llie gallant way he rode, As to give a deeper knowledge Of his character, as seen Viewed by eyes of truest friend8hi}> ; Of the lack of discipline, That would lead him into danger Where there was no higher prize Than the wull of but the moment, Under which no purpose lies Save he looked with wish and longing, And would seek to grasp and hold, With no thought of self denial ; And his disposition bold That would lead him, half uncaring, Into ways of crime and sin If it reached a full fruition. Self the motive I self must win I THE UETrRN. In those days it was no strange thing In the changes wrought by war, That the messages of loved ones. Might be very few, and far Between in bringing comfort, 101 Or relief to Inirdened hearts ; And to Ronald or his loved one It might seem the common part, In failure to receive answer To letters from time to time ; Ronald missed, but bore up bravely When none came, no cheering- line, And as came opportunity Amid the busy, shifting life A message would be sent by him To speak safety after strife, When battlefield had crimsoned been With blood, and shudd'ring souls Waited and listened, as to hear, Sighs and groans, like distant tolls Of death bell sw^ung 'mid low 'ring storm, When the thickened air, oppressed. With nameless horror seems freighted ; And the sorely lab'ring breast Pants, and panting longs for hearing Till suspense seems worse than woe ; Thus with kindly thought of cheering Would each message northward go. 102 Came the day when warfare ceasing; Triumphant peace was swelled forth In a glad, triumphant cheer That went pealing through the North, Louder than the roar on eastern coast Of breakers thund'ring 'gainst shore ; It broke upon the mountain peaks And filled the glens ; floated o'er The smooth waters of silver lakes ; Sending among the tow'ring trees Silv'ry echoes, sweet, musical ; Borne upon the western breeze To the glad Pacific's waters It rested on its placid breast, Mingling peace with peace, pacific, North with South, and East with West. By the eyes who saw the coming Of the soldiers who returned Ne'er will be the scenes forgotten ; Deeply, deeply have they burned ! O'er the blue lines' steady marching Waved the torn flags: shot and shell Shred and tattered, powder blackeneroblem ; he sought Another way to reach success. From the distant AVest came glowing Accounts of verdure and fruit ; Of a land whose teeming richness Of tree and flower, corn and root. Seemed like distant land of promise Smiling 'neath the setting sun. Yes ! the tales were bright and glowing As tliouQfh traced and roundlv done By its softened rays, at even, On the <>oi-geous lines of sky, As in blended bands of glory O'er that land they hov'ring lie. This the time when intimately I eame to know him; his ways, His thonghts, his life may have received. From my fresh life, in those daye, (For hope was strong within me then, The days were bright, and friends were true,) -\ new imi)ulse, an onward jmsh. His i)ast, that I after knew, Was unknown to me; unrevealed Save glimpses of the common life, And what are common interests With wdiich the world e'er is rife. Together we hunted ; rambled ; Plied the taxidermists' art; And I won his firmest friendshiji, So when came the time to part We parted with a real regret. After months of careful planning, 'Wakened to new interest, no He perfected to liis liking Tlie details for going West. He must leave his wife and children In Xew Hampshire for a while, Till commencing farm and dwelling On prolific Kansas soil. For their comfort he provided, As he could in the best way. Among their friends and near kindred, Till should come the longed for day When the welcome summons coming. To a home prepared should bid ; And he hoped to leave behind him All the old life; to be rid Fore'er of its disappointments, Of memory's saddened fret. And amid new scenes and wild life Havfe no time to know regret. 80 we parted at the depot, I, the one to press his hand In the last and fervent claspin< Ere he sped fast overland. 117 THE WESTEr.N HOME. In safety he reached Topeka, After a long and weary ride, Where he quickly found employment ; Which enabled him to tide Over the first dithculties Of the unfamiliar place, And to gain a better insight Of tlie native Western race. Or people country born and bred, So unlike New England men ; When law desiring but too free To mete forth Lynch law, e'en when Tardier action would have met Needs of justice and of right ; A border state where men might give Time to him who had in fight Imbrued his hands in human blood, But he who stole a horse swung Quickly into eternity : To the nearest tree was hung. The life of beast was so counted Of more worth than life of man ; 118 The human soul, vakie unknown, Was swept away without gain. A year in Kansas, then he sent For wife and children to come. Upon the lands near Silver Lake He prepared for them a home. He had passed through some trial scenes Before the year had flown. And once had lain close to death's door Shot, by poisoned arrow, down. Wife and children again with him He strove to meet with zeal The difhculties of the life A settler must always feel And meet, in contact with nature In its wildness, and bad men. His land was rich; the fertile soil Gave luxuriant life and then Bore what seemed most fabulous crops ; But the chills and fever came, His house too low on bottom land Was built ; I know not whose blame ! 119 Bat all were sick save one child, A girl; little, toddling thing! But mother's stay and father's help. Though but fragile reed to cling. In this, their time of greatest need. She brought cooling draughts from sprin< To moisten parched and burning lips, And for their needs, quick to bring Whate'er the little hands could find ; Burden hard for child to meet! But in this time she seemed their all ; Wee l)ut willing hands and feet! THE FLIGHT. His strength, the burning sun beneath Wasting away ; with hard chill Or scorching fever sapping fast The vital force, strong to till In health with unbound energy When interest is spurring on. The country 'round was beautiful ; Rankly grew his waving corn Upon the prairie swell ; away 120 Stretching far as eye could see Were flowers massed in l^anks of l)loom, Or set in starry array In the green earth-sky of the grass; Fragile and graceful I the bee Toyed with their softly swaying bells; The air was heavy with the scent Floating o'er the flowery sea. Along the bottom cottonwoods, Gigantic, towered; pecan trees, Pawpaw and wild plum, interlaced With climbing vines; where the breeze Scarce penetrated 'mong the wild growth, So thick and dense ; or the sun E'er pierced through with the gleaming lance. Morn to eve, in crescent run ; Hiding the deep, black soil beneath The damp, miasmatic shade ; Stored richness of the centuries Waiting the opening blade. But every sense must fail before The inexorable law, 121 And beauty will not satisfy Pain racked frames or heart sore. Vain is the hope, most fondly vain, That in sensuous things should lie Peace of heart, or sweet restfulness, Or that which will satisfy. Near the claim of Ronald Warland An earlier settler dwelt, A man of quarrelsome intent. Who, neighborly ties unfelt. Cared not for the amenities Or courtesies of life ; A pioneer of stalwart frame, Whose days had been in stern strife With nature, wild beasts, wilder men; Desperate, daring and bold. His wish and thought some advantage Over others to gain or hold. With this man Ronald had high words. Fever shattered as he was, He could not bear the insults flung. E'en thouofh he might bear the loss 122 Of ravished corn, and trampling down Of precious crops ; hopes and stays When should sweep 'cross the prairie dead The fierce norther in wintry days. One night, found feeding on his corn. Were this neighbor's horses three ; He gave him bitter warning, then. Ne'er again to leave them free To trespass on his rightful claim. Or, so ran his daring threat, To shoot them where they should be found Scornful laugh the warning met ; Who would dare to slay a horse? In this country of dread Lynch law Who would dare to take that course? But little did this settler know Eonald in his tempest mood. Or disposition from his youth. To which I previously allude. When the following night drew near, Pulling down the precious corn Again the robber steeds were found. The ground strewed with refuse torn. 123 The ready rifle, aimed to kill, Sped the messengers of death, And, struggling, sank the noble brutes Down upon the blood stained earth. Then o'er his mind the consequence Flashing like the lightning's gleam. The bullet or the rope might be The end 'fore morn should beam ; And to his thought was then recalled, Fearful sight he once had seen, Glancing from his cabin door As sunrise lit the prairie green: A spreading tree, the night before AVhose beauty he had scanned with pride, Bore hideous fruit ; seven men Hanging there had strangling died ; The Vigilants had held their court ; Seven ropes; souls were swiftly hurled. No time for repentance, ])rayerless, Into the eternal world. He could see each fiice distorted, And each blackened, swollen tongue, While the staring eyes protruded; Dreadful sight, as there they swung! ]24 While he stayed the night had fallen, And his strained eyes looked away Toward the tree where he had seen them, As if, through the starlight-gray, He again should see them swinging. Ghastly, grim and horrid sight. That to him they would be beck'ning. Out the gloom of deathly night. But the time had come for action. He knew he must quickly tiee At any cost; all his labor Lost ; his home again to be Broken up. That his very life On his leaving Kansas soil Depended. He must quickly go ; By midnight ride he might foil The death pursuit, so sure to come. Short time was given parting word With ready mustang at the door. Who forward sprang like startled bird Where ran the trail to Topeka. Cool the night winds swept his face. Still hotlv burned his fevered brow, ]25 Mile on mile his horse's pace Struck off in measured beat, till reached A half-way place, where a spring Bubbling and cool w^ells up; and here A few moments halt, to fling To ground and drink deep draughts, Cooling, from nature's cup, And bathe his wildly throbbing head. But as he would be starting up His quick ear caught the distant sound Of a horse at highest speed Over the way that he had come. His first glance was at his steed. Quietly he stood with ears pricked sharp, As if scenting from afar, Danger and crisis soon to come. Upon breath of the night air. It seemed no use to flee. Uncovered to foe in rear; He knew that death rode fast behind. And the struggle might be near ; To throw away an advantage Thus, his last and only chance; 126 And he resolved to stay and wait, Eeady for his foe's advance, And, if discovered, death to him In fight who failed to shoot sure ; And both might fall in deadly strife, Or worse, crippling wounds endure. He knelt short distance from the trail, Drawn revolver in his hand Full cocked; his every nerve now strung, Tension hard, like a steel band. His foe drew near, he knew 'twas him, Recognized his giant frame. His air, e'en through the shades of night ; Shorter his breathing became. Just beyond the spring the road forked ; Each branch led by different course To Topeka. Here the settler Near to Ronald, reined his horse, With bent head, listening intently ; Ronald even tried to still The verv beatings of his heart. 127 Oh ! what if, sharply and shrill, His horse's neigh the throbbing air Should thrill ! Common call to each ; But if it came, revolver shot Would follow quick ; and its breech Was held with steady grasp and sure, Finger on trigger. No sound ; No footfall ; only the night-wind Broke the silence all around With its sighing. The north road, then, Was taken ; and when the last Distant footfall died away Ronald mounted and rode fast Along the other open way. As the early morning train Started from Topeka depot Ronald leaped on board, and then Was seen the settler, riding fast Towards them, signalling to hold The cars. Too late! They gathered speed. Freer he breathed as past rolled Mile on mile, whirling, dizzy flight Of the swelling, prairie ground. 128 111 Illinois, ere second night, Relatives and friends he found. AGAIX IX NEW HAMPSHIRE. Message sent his wife and children. And to Illinois they came And joined him, then proceeded on To old New England ; whose name And peace they loved as ne'er before. Her toW''ring mountains ; her woods. Fragrant with balsam of the pine Odor laden sunshine moods; Her swift rivers and streams, her lakes. Dimples that pellucid break The beauty, grandeur and the calm Of sweet nature's glowing cheek. To all w^as given added zest, To see again, to enjoy. He had an artist's sense and love Of nature. Would oft employ Hours in gazing and in drinking in Its beauty, till others thought It shiftlessness ; perhaps it was, 129 So fine the line, we see not Tlie difference, tliat separates Only when profit or use ; A day may turn the scale of years. Gift to cherish, not abuse. Within tlie fertile triangle Of New Boston valley fair, Bounded by the steep Joe English, With its precipice of sheer Five hundred feet of rugged stone, Scarred and seamed by ragged wear Of gi-anite strength stern opposed 'Gainst ravage of year on year Since, when in march of time, the mass Broke from molten bed beneath, Grew cool within the outer air Fanned by the strange breezes' breath. Full of the ozone of the past. That, perhaps, the life-spring fed Of fauna and of flora, growtii Gigantic, that has fast wed The early periods of the world With the hearthstone of to-dav, 130 In warmth and tender memories Of the softened firelight's play; There, too, rises, green-walled, sloping, Uncanoonuc, twin mounts' pride. Crowned by oak, and pine and chestnut, Tow'ring upward, side by side ; There, too, the jagged seaming Of the Pulpit on the south. Like the wide and threat'ning gaping Of a cruel, sharp-fanged mouth ; It was here that Ronald Warland Settled on a valley farm. And here first came prosperity With the peacefulness and calm Of two years' earnest, lab'ring life, When the toil seemed well repaid ; And in his life was more content. More of sunshine, less of shade. VACATION RAMBLES. For all his quick, impulsive ways With me he was always kind. Pleasant he was as a companion. True a comrade as you find. 131 As the rougher world views these things. Many faults he had, I know, But those I overlooked, and days And nights, at times we would go Together on some rambling quest Among nature's wilder ways, Hunting or fishing, or lining The bees, in the sunlight's blaze. Toward some shadowy, distant grove. For stores hid in some old tree. For sweetness left among decay While the harvest days should be. These were vacation times, the days In busy life now and then Caught between, for recreation; Sunny days they e'er remain, Brightened by autumn leaves Vivid colored by the frost. Crimson and green, and brown and gold. Till in the wide vistas lost Of the shimmering, golden sheen. Days full of laughter of brooks, Babbling voices out of pebbly 132 Reaches, 'mong the shady nooks ; List'ning to the whirring partridge, List'ning to the hum of bees, Plucking the wild grapes' purple clusters, Watching the squirrels in the trees. Many pictures fair are clustered Round the old Joe English hill ; Pictured scenes, with light and shading, That would many volumes fill ; But I pencil, touching lightly, That I may not weary you, As they open in the distance, Still enchanting to the view. But two pictures I'm recalling ; One, lit by the camp-fire's flame ; 'Tis the hill environed lakelet That bears the mountain's name. When we reached it, past the sunset. As the twilight shadows grew, Gleamed the afterglow reflections In its waters, white and blue. 133 Till it shone a gem, like sapphire, In its rook encircled brim As we watched our floats light resting On its waters, growing dim As the starry night grew round us, Till the firelight flashed high. Fed by pitchy pine knots heavy. And by driftwood high and dry ; Then the ruddy light flashed outward. And the giant shadows danced 'Long the shore in shapes fantastic, O'er the waters broad expanse. And the other scene is graven In still deeper, sharper lines. For I gazed as look the dying On the last of earthly signs. We ascended old Joe English By the long and winding way. For that route is easier climbing ; It was in the hot midday When we reached the tree-grown summit O'er that awful precipice. Where to climb meant sure destruction If your foothold you should miss. 134 I had fallen, sprained an ancle 'Tween two sharply jutting stones, Though some moments sick with anguish, As I found no broken bones, AVe had forward pressed to gain it Till we stood upon the height. Drinking in the scene below us Sharply traced by bright sunlight; Kural scene of hills and valleys, Cottages and smiling farms, With a look of peaceful quiet. As secure from all alarms. Then we rolled a great stone over, Saw it start with giant bound, Striking the cliff far below us. And with fainter, ftiinter sound Strike and strike again, till heard not. Only we saw trees bow and fall Under the awful momentum Gathered down that rocky wall. LEGEND OF JOE ENGLISH. Joe English, the friend of white men, Was an Indian, it is true, 135 Who wished his people Kve at peace, As the early settlers knew. He went and came at his free will, With them often shared his game, Until transformed from savage brave He received this English name. His tribe was camped at Amoskeag, Above the plunging, foam-white falls. Before they leap, roar and thunder As the waters chafe the walls. All along the swift Merrimack And the clear Piscataquog Roamed the daring, red skinned hunters. Knowing every plain and bog, Ev'ry mountain, ev'ry valley, Knew the course of ev'ry stream ; Caught the salmon at their iishways. Speared the pike and caught the bream. When the time came that they plotted The massacre at one blow Of the settlers of New Hampshire, Before thev should know 136 Of their hostile, deadly intent, Joe English risked his own life To warn the whites, and they prepared, Amid flaming homes and strife, Beat back the raging storm of hate, Tomahawk and scalping knife. But for the timely warning given, Ere this murderous storm was rife, 'Twould have been extermination To the whites within this vale; Cut ofl", they were, from outside help; But his warning made them fail. From this time marked, savage vengeance Sought him everywhere, to slay. Till in the forest, near the mouth The Piscataquog, one day, As the sun rode low the western Sky, he was beset by savage foe. Bent on his capture and his death. Many they were, one way to go Alone was open ; too well he knew Savage torture meted out To captive taken ; better quick death. 187 Fleet as a runner and stout Of body, and very lithe of limb, He bounded away up tlie stream, But followed hard and last was driven To this mountain, it would seem, As his last hope, and made his stand O'er this precipice; his last; Boldly jumped to save his scalp, SAVED KR()>r DEATH. When we were ready to return, li was proposed to go down Edging across the steep descent, A way as dangerous known, And reatth tlie ledges at the side ; With each other's help to swing From shelf to shelf until we gained The mountain's foot, which would bring Us nearer home, saving miles O'er stony road ; a hard way For me with ancle lame and sore, 'Neath l)eating sun ; hot midday. 138 And so we ventured out upon The rocky face, o'er the brow, From where Joe EngUsh fell, was dashed, Ground to pieces, far below ; Ronald, used to mountain climbing, Holding with hands and feet, led ; He swung across the awful fall, I tried to follow ; instead Of using feet, I had to hold. Swing by use of hands alone, And, too late, I found I could not Shift them to move, but hung down Without a chance should hold relax. No hope ! I saw the sky ; The awful stretch of rock beneath ; And I thought how I should lie, ('Twas like a dream,) mangled and crushed Vision of sorrowing wife Sent a pang piercing to my heart And nerved me to the hold for life ; Then heard I voice of friend below Encouraging me to cling ; Then saw him move along the face Of rocky wall ; balancing 181) On a iiiirrow shelf, where scarcely Foothold was for mountain sheep Or climbing goat ; slowly along Where a jar against the steep Or a ({nick step would headlong fling. He came beneath, his hand prest My foot ; steadily bore me up ; " Now," he cried, "on me rest, And shift your hold ! " 'Twas quickly done A turn ; a spring ; and a ledge Was reached, and I was safe once more, Though rough way to forest's edge. The ways of novelty and change Are more than ways of steadfast life To some, who look on outward things Kest and peace are sunk in strife For self, for gold, for baser range That darken the feelings' play ; The soul of life unknown, unseen, Is left to perish alway. 140 I would gladly leave unpenciled, Buried in the lowly grave, All that would not show true manhood In the one who was so l)rave. There are lines that run so darkly That they end in ragged blot ; What is underneath God knowetli And the motives ; I shall not Handle rudely or irreverent, Though my hand shall draw most true, That which cannot have a lesson, As we trace that life-thread through. The time came when Ronald Warland, Dissatisfied, sought for gain Some easier way ; the life of toil That he led had, in the main, Brought him only blessings ; regained Health, sweet sleep, abundant food Plain and substantial, not dainty. But to him of relish good. He was thriving in every way, Better than ever before. But money seemed to be his thought. 141 At any cost to liave more. He seemed to think that gold would l)iiy Ease of heart and every joy ; First ventured forth with honesty Artistic sense to employ, To turn to dollars what had been Hitherto a loss to him ; Sacrificed his home and home-life, Yielding up on them all claim Gave his two daughters to strangers. For adoption, as their own. Plis judgment may have l)een at fault. For sin I would not condone, But, trul}^ that he thought it best. For he was a father kind ; Too indulgent, it may have T)een ; Care for ])()dv, not for luiml. hid he succeed? In mouc}-, yes I r>nt used liis art to pull down, And not build uj) the lives of men When better ]>aid him 'twas shown; 'Twas the breaking down of manliood And the entering uijon 142 A path of questionable tilings, A way with distrust sown. With studied care he moved along In the road of wily fraud, Sharply weighing every chance ; On the laws of man and God Trampling with cool impunity Apparently. Then to me Came fuller knowledge of his life And growing depravity ; I turned from him without a word. Or effort to reclaim him From the tightening bands of sin ; INIy only light that of dim Morality ; no hope for him Wrapped around with Circean spell. Lost in the dark'ning glooms of night, E'en if some ray feel^ly fell. Ah, yes! How changed to awful shapes, Beastly and swinish, when lips, Once glowing with true manhood's life, Press the cup of sin and sips 143 That fateful draught of madd'nlng eliange ; No more to stand erect in light, But hound and held to come and go 'Mong the scum and filth of night. And what, through all this time of change, Shall we say of her, the wife ? That help on which so mucli depends, That anchor 'mid the storms of life Within the haven of home, If true to high womanhood She is the "glory of the man," Ever true and pure and good. Those who have been reared up under Careful, loving mother's eye. Who, her care and warnings, only Barred the way where follies lie, Will they conceive how an erring IMother may implant the seed, That in years for bloom and blossom Proves to be a noxious weed? If in childhood the foundation That was laid V)y mother's hand, 144 Where .should be the lioliest pafegnards, That true womanliood may stand In God-meant strength, in home-life Sin and sensual things are taught Let our blame be lost in sorrow, Let us still have kindly thought For the one thus early laden With a weiglit so hard to l)ear, With no gentle hand to help her, Nor a mother's earnest prayer. If it Avere not for contrasting, That the true ma}' brighter shine, I would shrink from this retouching Of each hidden, shaded line. Fallen I God can see ]\vw tempted. He alone, \n1i(» knows the heart. Fity hei', <) while-ioljed wtuiiaii. Who Iiath chosen l^etter part. You may think he dragged her downward In his maddened thirst for gain, But I've thought, perhaps, it might l)e That this tlung had turned his brain; 145 That through years she had neglected, That through years she had misused, He had carried knowledge hidden Of a past misspent, abused. She was a weak and erring woman, Not one hopelessly depraved, And, could she have been enlightened With a wisdom, heart-engraved, Of a better, truer living Of a life whose ways are know^n, Through eternal ages bringing Back to what in earth is sown. Then she might have wept and lingered At a loving Saviour's feet Till the past had been forgiven. And the present made complete In a love to hold and uplift, With a power to work the change ; But we deal with facts unyielding, And we must no longer range. The sorrow for this faithlessness Grew^ to wild and savage hate ; 146 Day and night he plotted revenge, Eelentless as the hand of fate. REVENGE. Men who strike, in sudden vengeance, The destroyer of the home Have the sympathy of many, And are justified by some ; But a deep and hellish hatred That would plan to ruin bring All the lifetime of the fellow Being who had done this thing. Sorely tempted, to his sorrow. From the way of love and right, By the spell of fickle woman Hid from virtue's shining light, Seeking not his downfall only. But to strike at hearts more dear Than a man's own life is counted ; Bringing misery and fear, Desolation and sore anguish; While his own pockets should fill Full of blackmail gold, grown brighter Fired by hate too deep to kill. 147 This man gave to Ronald Warland His life's savings, all he had, Borrowed money, contracted debts ; Stripped of all, 'twas very sad. That knowledge might not reach his wife Of his misdoing ; the wife flalf an invalid ; delicate And gentle; and in her life Refined and womanly. He felt He could not bear she should know His treachery and sinfulness ; He loved her, an added woe, That she might go forever from His side, and her pure heart wrung Do as man would do, ne'er forgive; Over him the blade, hair held, hung. But Ronald did not e'er design To lose this one last sweet drop Of his revenge ; in this was blind ; 'Twas the time for him to stop, To rankling leave in bitterness And dread suspense worse than all ; He judged by self and brought defeat To his own aim past recall. 148 Some means he took that she should know. The sin, and its consequence Her husband's complete ruin sealed, Ere he departed hence. Ah ! the heart of a true woman Greater wealth than Indies holds, But she all the one indues Who with key of love unfolds ; Man may wrong, deceive and blind her While in many ways untrue, When repentant he will find her Pitying, loving, leading through With a tact that's more than knowing, With unselfishness sublime. Bearing roses on the thorn-crown Fragrant through unmeasured time. This gentle woman, sorrowing. Pitying, freely forgave When she knew how he had suffered. And she stilled her heart to save. Then she wrote to Eonald Warland An appeal, earnest and clear, 149 With wifely dignity, showing And marking out without fear The Hues where duty Ues, and said Persecution ought to cease, That nothing more was to be gained, Every claim he should release If aught he held to terrify ; "Sinning, he was sinned against. Husband I will not condemn," said she; "Who knows where the sin commenced." It may have touched slumb'ring feelings Buried deep in Ronald's heart. For he ceased to longer follow. Dropped the hard, revengeful part. THE FIRST LOVE AGAIN. Ronald Warland, in the triumph Of his schemes for getting gold. Met his love of days remembered, Met first love of days of old. Well he knew that she had suffered, And he knew she loved him still: 150 That the glamour of their youth -life Would not go away at will ; Passing years of unknown longing, And of heart-want unsupplied, Was a burden unforgotten Of companionship denied. True, she was wife of another. Of a jealous, unwise churl, She was now the sober matron. Not the graceful, laughing girl. Fifteen years since last they clasped hands With that long and clinging touch, And sad time, with leaden footsteps. Marked the tear-stained way with such Tender mem'ries of love's springtime. Is it strange they still should feel. When their hands met light together. Something of the old-time thrill ; Each knew well the base endeavor, That successful, warped and marred Both their lives from what they had meant, When in evenings, brightly starred, They had walked with love's confidence; 151 Or in the golden light of morn, Spilling the dew from out the heart Of roses, soft in the dawn And glowing, like the cheek they pressed. They had planned a happy home Not far away ; a humble roof, To cover joyous days to come. Is it not true, that we may map Lines for men's and women's Uves, And straight and discreet for their walk. There's something still that in them striv( Loth to be bound by settled laws? These lines can never bind hearts ! They throb and beat, softened pants. Stirred by a touch, a memory, Or, perhaps, unguarded glance; Unseen they come and go, unknown, Save when another heart shall know And catch the meaning of that thrill, In it finding joy or woe. I cannot show you step by step The dangerous way, followed fast 152 Despite jealous watch ; interviews Stolen were held, and at last Ronald proposed to cast aside The legal fetters that apart Held them ; divorce for him was sure From faithless wife; and by art And money he would set her free From her husband's jealous claim ; They, pictured happiness, would flee United, bear a common name. Human nature has reasoned" thus Ever since the race began ; And hard to know the right from wrong By the standards set by man. All, all, but deal with outward things ; God alone can rule the heart With law of perfect love ; no ill Wrought to others cause or part. Shall we judge this loving woman With a cold world's bitter scorn. That she spurned not then the tempter? Ah ! her heart was sadly torn 153 By conflicting thoughts and passions, And she knew not what to do; Love had called for her to wander; Duty called, "O still be true ! True, though clouds be darkly settling, True, though dimly seen the way ! " Almost yielding to his pleadings She would not decide that day. But longer she must consider ; This he gladly granted her, For he knew her heart was with him, And was sure he did not err When he supposed every woman's Principle was swayed by love. "The woman that deliberates Is lost," some writer has said. Is it true in application? Let us see here where it led. She had promised that her answer Should be sent on such a day To the place where he proceeded, Called by business away From the little mountain village 154 Nestling near the snow-capped hills ; And he left her, never doubting, In his way should blend both wills. At time appointed answer came, The answer of a faithful one True to a conscience still undim'd, True, and the victory won ; A letter from sweet womanhood, Unblameable still, though erred She had, at first, impelled by love ; Blame for self only she had. But she, as a true w^oman said: — "Ronald, you and I know, whate'er The thoughts of others may have been, There is no act but what is right. If open before God and men And all w^as seen as we do know, (There may be folly, but no crime,) In days of past or present ones ; Let it be in future time Unsullied still, whate'er our fate; Better suffering till death Than hope in sin for happiness." Decisive, in honest w^orth ! 155 Ronald received this last message With a deep and bitter curse : He could not buy her he cared for ; Drifted from bad to worse. About this time he came to me; Perhaps he heard, it was said, My heart was changed ; for God had touched My heart and I had been led To give myself to Him. Perhaps Ronald feared I would betray Some secrets of his life I held, In this newly entered way. But what I knew, by confidence, I had no right to e'er speak, I felt ; thus fully assured him. He believed me and did seek My friendship as in days gone past; But I shrank from him ; unsaid I left the words that might have brought Salvation; perhaps have led This erring one from paths of sin. He would have listened to me When he w^ould not to another. 15G Ah! this, then, I did not see. Strange! not to speak this precious thing Blame me, for I am to blame ! He saved my life and I let him Go forth unsaved ; it is shame No word was spoken that might bear In eternity some fruit. It was my first of Christian life, Still the seed had taken root, Deep, very deep, in life and heart. Yet I let this former friend, In my abhorrence for his sins, Go, I know not to what end. I left New Hampshire's scenes to dwell Far from my earlier home. To form new ties, to find new friends. In earnest work-days to come ; More than six years went swiftly by: No word came to me of him Till I returned to see again Mem'ry's fair scenes, far from dim, And find so many changes made. 'Twas strange, but as I returned In the deep forest he was found. 157 Near where our camp-fire once burned, A skeleton upon the ground. RONALD'S GRAVE. He died where autumn leaves fell, Wand'ring and drifted as his life Had been. Fit shroud ; it is well They should enfold and cover him. Then came winter's snows to hide Him from all sight through months of cold, Then spring came ; and all beside Was springing into life renewed ; He only stirred not; but still, In death's embrace, from mortal eye Was hid; where wood-thrushes trill Among the darkest forest aisles. And within the blacker shade Of Joe English mount, where he saved My life. Here, while summer staid, The remains of Ronald Warland, Once brave soldier boy, was found; The end of all the earthly way Is seen, a turfed, lowly mound. 158 POSTLUDE. O pine of the mountain, I hear your refrain; In gloomy array; the winter wind wild Is whisp'ring and sobbing again and again, As a sad mother wails o'er the death of a child. O evergreen heart of the forest so old, Was the life of a mortal lost in yon glen? How you shiver and sigh in the darkness and cold : — "His life was lost among the children of men ! " O brave, sturdy oak, as you shake your red leaves. Defiant, reliant, yet full of good cheer, Tell me, O tell me, while autumn gales breathe Through all your wide reaches, of life that is dear : — Was the life of a mortal lost in this place ? O stout heart of the forest, speak once again ! "Ah ! we wished him but good and all of his race, His life was lost among the children of men." 159 O lithe, graceful elm, thickly tasseled and plumed, But not with the sable that waves o'er our dead, In keeping with flowers that so sweetly have bloomed In paths of the presence whose coming we dread ; Strong heart of the forest, in gleaming array, With leaves of the color of ripe, golden grain, You, too, are sighing for the life of the clay, That has fled, lost among the children of men. I have shown you pictures vernal, born from from out the dusts of time. Springing up in light or darkness, not seared by the chilling rime That has faded many blossoms 'mid the scenes I touch so true. Warmed by little rays of sunshine, brightened by the drops of dew ; 160 Flowers whose life must be eternal, though we see them not to-day, Yet we know the light shall bring them breaking through each band of clay, In the morning to awaken, if the day be glorious light, From the folding of the earth-clods to the robes of purest white. "- '-^ END OF LIFE PICTURES. 161 OTHER MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 163 MISCONCEPTION, I wrote a rhyme In precious time, Time that was given to God, From darkness to light It went in its flight, Sealed W'ith the seal of His word. The Spirit's voice Was strong in its choice, And the love of God was there ; On mission sent. With pure intent, It went with fervent prayer. The world or sin Must enter in, With sinuous wisdom dare, 164 As to Eve of old A meaning unfold Untrue to light and unfair. Your heart you may give And faithfully live, And your words be true as steel, But some will try And make a lie From the best you say or feel. God knoweth the heart, 'Twill comfort impart And nerve in the righteous cause; Be loving and true, He loveth you, Loving, fulfilment of laws. Write and unfold In words of gold, What God has given to shine ; False measure won't bend, The truth in the end. When covered with His plumb-line. 165 GOING FOR THE COW, As in childhood burns the sunset In its orange, crimson glow, And I hear the lowing cattle, While the shadows longer grow ; Then the present seems but dreaming, As of yore the breezes blow, Scented by the wild wood blossoms, While I'm iroina- for the cow. Oh ! the woods of pine and hemlock. Where the violets used to grow, Carpeted with fragrant needles 'Neath the branches sweeping low ; Ah ! the summer air is heavy. As again I breathe it now. Laden with the olden balsam. As I'm going for the cow. 166 Oh ! the silken, flossy mosses, That my bare feet used to know, 'Mong the tangled alder thickets Swaying softly, swaying slow ; And the white and feath'ry birches, Moving gently to and fro In the slanting gold of sunset. While I'm going for the cow. Oh ! the robins in the maples Singing sweetly, singing clear, And the mew and song of catbird With its echo yet is here; And the cheery, merry whistle Of the boy still at the plow, Ringing through the aisles of mem'ry, While I'm going for the cow. Oh ! the precious springtime blossoms, From the fields of long ago. Where the mayflowers of my childhood, With its roses sweetly blow ; Oh ! the brook my bare feet cooling, ^Nlurm'ring softly, murm'ring low, 167 With its l^anks of elder blossoms, While I'm going for the cow. Ftainter, fainter grows the sunset, And its colors flee away, And the twilight throws its shadows Ever darker, cold and gray ; And the vision of my childhood In the present fading now Brings the boy to manhood's stature, No more going for the cow. 168 '' HE WILL GIVE GRACE AND GLORY." O the wonderful glory of God, Shining in Jesus, our blessed Lord, Shining out from His life-breathing Word, Shining out and shining in Whene'er the lost soul we seek and win ; the wonderful glory of God, Living and growing. Shining and glowing. In the life of His life-giving Word. O the riches of grace He hath given, Abundant for earth, leading to heaven, Making the narrow pathway so even ; Lifting o'er each rocky place ; Wonderful, wonderful love and grace ! the grace and glory He hath given; Trusting Him wholly, Loving so fully, The pathway more bright, it neareth heaven. 169 BEAUTIFUL LIPS. "Beautiful lips are those whose words Spring from the heart like song of birds, And yet whose utterance prudence girds." " How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace ; that bringeth good tidings of good, that pub- lisheth salvation ; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth."— Isaiah 52:7. Let lips have the rarest curving Like the swelling arch of Cupid's bow, Chiseled like a Grecian goddess Smiling from a face of Parian snow ; Let them have the finest limning, Let the matchless hand of Nature give More than pictured, pouting sweetness Held by Raphael, lei them glow and live ; 170 If their arch is not the gateway Of a loving, pure and faithful soul, They may please the eye artistic, But they lose as we behold the whole. Beautiful lips are those that sweetly Guard the wealth of a loyal heart, That in faithful self-denial Shall most richly to the world impart. Lips that give the precious message, Glowing with a pure and holy flame Lit by coal from off the altar, Filled with praising of His Blessed Name. Beautiful lips, whose luUabys Softly shall float o'er the cradled world, Loving lips whose teachings lead Where the banner of truth is unfurled. Beautiful lips of the mother Teaching prayer to the child at her knee; Beautiful lips of darling child, Smiling and sunny, lovingly free. 171 Beautiful lips are comforting The sick, the fevered, the dying one, Softly soothing the unstrung nerves, Brightening the way so nearly done. Beautiful lips make glad the home, Beautiful lips are true on the street, From them come the best that is known, And swiftly borne by beautiful feet. 172 THE CLASS MEETING. Emmanuel! God with us! Low each head was bowed in prayer, And each heart Hke David's harp Was strung with chords of gold ; Then in music sweet was swept The strings. He whose skillful hand Brought forth into breathing life Words and notes of praise and prayer Was a son of David's line, And, like David, was a King, More than all the Son of God. Then the aged leader spoke ; Out the fullness of his heart His lips coined words of o'erflow. E'en the Word of Life he read Like most precious jewels dropped, Shining clear in liquid light, 173 Into the ready casket Of the heart, open to receive-; And the voice grew full and sweet Within, in harmony with God. One by one each answered then ; Sons and daughters beloved Of the hving God and King, Lovers of the house of prayer ; While the kindled fire within Purely purged away the dross, Showing the image reflected, The Refiner, in each joy, Each hope, each fear; all in Him Blent as one, else incomplete. 174 THE MESSAGE OF PRAYER. Heart of prayer, my heart sends greeting Message full of holy love, You will know it 'neath the pinion. Of the Spirit's heavenly Dove. You will find it bound with slender Cords of golden light and gleam ; They're strong but do not cut them, Keep them sacred, as they seem. They were woven midst deep longings Of a soul who loves thy soul. They were tempered by the Spirit To a finished, perfect whole. 175 They are prayer cords, and the message They have held is fraught with joy In the gladness of its answer, In its freedom from alloy. In the time to come let nothing Mar this life of God within ; Prayer friend, let me feel thee with me For some other soul to win. Oh ! we know not how God worketh. Yet w^e tremble with delight When His glory shines upon us, When a soul receives its sight. Could we lose sight of our weakness. Surely resting on His word, In the strength of answered prayer, then, We should stay upon the Lord. Sanctified, in Christ abiding, For His dear name, His dear sake. Shall not faith claim some straying brother, Love's unerring choice to make ? 176 Then in close and fervent clasping, In a compact fast and true, Let our hands meet warm together. Every prayer-tie to renew. 17: ELFIE'S LETTER. Elfie, dear Elfie, o'er the sea, Soon, again I will come to thee. Years have gone since last we met. Bat, dear heart, remembered yet Is the troth we plighted there In the days of life so fair When God's call led me far away, And duty's call to vou was "stav." Elfie, I bore God's word with me To heathen lands o'er the sea. Wealth I have not struggled to gain Lest my life should be all invain ; Weary and worn, from o'er the sea. Soon, again I will come to thee ; That you are still as true as truth. Though you, as I, have lost your youth. ■ 178 That you love me now as of old, As when to you my love I told, I know, your heart could ne'er grow cold. Precious to me, far more than gold. Dear Elfie, coming, coming now. And hand in hand we soon shall bow, To know a sunset without gloom, Richer, dearer than fervent noon ; Sweet hours, when night only draweth nigh To brighten the stars in our sky ; Elfie, dear Elfie, o'er the sea. Swiftly I am coming to thee. 179 THE INDWELLING CHRIST, "I in them, Tl^u in Me, tliat they may be made perfect in one."— St. John 17:23. Born of Christ's love ! Richer, fuller Than I ever knew in days of old Is the knowledge of indwelling Of the Christ, that my heart now enfolds. Not in hours of quiv'ring raptnre Would I, dare I look for a reward ; Only not to mar the working Of Thy will, Redeemer, ^Tshi, Lord ! If 'mid sorrows I am walking Still Thy will shall be my all in all; In the brightness of Thy rising Throw aside each dark and deathly pall ! * This word signifies the closest divine union, as tliat of husband and wife. ISO While the world seems full of echoes Of a past I ne'er would live again, Thou hast cleansed away my sin-stains, Thou alone can change the hearts of men. If in suffering by the hatred Of the men w^hose hearts are far from Thee, Fill me full with prayer and loving, Only let Thy will be done in me. Would I seek for power of riches, When Thou knew not where to lay Thy head ? I will not refuse to trust Thee, And Thy hand shall give my daily bread. Let me not in self be centered. Ever let my life be hid in Thee, Thou hast blest my soul with blessing, Thou, Thyself, hath come to dwell in me. Deeper, truer, may my life-stream In Thy will, safe channeled, flow most free, That a life of Thine indwelling Blend and weld my soul fore'er with Thee. 181 DEATH OF BABY. "Bunty, my precious, my darling one, 1 hear in my chamber your pattering feet. Your tiny hands to the bedside cHng, Your eyes are smihng in mine, baby sweet ; But papa is sick, and baby, too. You are far from well, that dreadful cough Has shaken and worn your tender frame. Though you playfully peep and sweetly laugh. Bunty, m}' darling, my precious one, How, then, could I dream you would drift away, While I, lying in sickness and pain, In the shadow of death, yet here must stay ? O baby dear, how sick you had grown. Too weak to smile to my heart you were pressed, 'Twas the farewell time, though I knew it not, Your head should be pillowed upon my breast. * A pet name. 182 Bunty, my precious, my darling one! Is it the stars that are weeping to-night ? How faint they are growing, but now I know 'Tis my own tears that are dimming my sight. The stars did not lose, it was I that lost, Gone from my chamber the pattering feet ! Your laugh, like the chiming music of bells, Gone ! the smiling eyes no longer I meet. baby, my darling, my precious child, So near to the brink of the river I lay When the angels pressed through the shades of night, To bear you across to the glorious day. Is it strange I heard their music swell Afar in the distance, then nearer come, And a deep, sweet peace and a heavenly rest Should fall on my soul as they paused in your Bunty, my darling, my precious one ! 1 heard the music softly, sweetly die. Then out on the night air shuddering rang A heart-wruno; mother's sad and waiUng crv. 18P, The spirit so loved and loving soul With tlie angel band passed the curtain un- furled, The mother was missing her darling boy ; Heaven gained, but a man was lost to the world ! Bunty, my darling, my precious one ! It was no dream of night or fevered brain When wakened to hear, from refreshing sleep. That unearthly sweet and comforting strain ; 1 heard it come and go ; tlie mother's cry ; And when I questioned, they led her to me ; Her head was laid on my shoulder at rest. With heaving breast, her tears flowed fast and free. O Bunty, my darling, my precious one ! That night I wept not, the Comforter came ; Above the sorrows of earth I was rocked In Arms Everlasting ; blest be His name ! His promises came again and again ; Coupled with that wonderful rythmic flow; They lifted me n\) to a purer realm ; For I had heard the angels come and go. ]fu EVENING REST, "Earth is my footstool."— Isaiah 6G:1. "And the place of my feet I will make glor; ous."— Isaiah 60:1o. Sinking down where the shores of night Are banks of rich crimson and gold Edging a sea of purple light Is the cmdled sun, shining bright, Gilding the rocks of the mountains old, The toi>s of the trees a golden-green, Shading, lighting the lovely scene ; And the spirit of song And the spirit of prayer Springing up from the heart Floats on the evening air; And I rest at his feet On his promises sweet. The earth is his footstool, And the place of his feet He hath made glorious. 185 I would shine for Him with glory Reflected that holds back the night ; Fearless tell the wondrous story- How sin and self, care and worry Are sunk in the crimson; and light From the heavenly sun of love Gilds the wings of an earth-born dove, Which had so lowly lain Among the pots and ware. Broken and little worth, Sad relics of earth-care ; Yes ! I rest at his feet, On His promises sweet. The earth is His footstool, And the place of His feet He hath made glorious. I drink of the Fountain of Life, I am covered with crimson glow, I am hid from sorrowful strife, Or things with which the world is rife, In the sea of His wondrous love, In the shining rays from above ; In His love I abide, 186 Watching, watching the sun Sinking at eventide; Loving the Crucified One. Yes, I rest at His feet On His promises sweet! The earth is His footstool, And the place of His feet He hath made glorious. 18/ THE YEAR IS DYING. The year is dying. I can see the hectic flush Mantling the hillside and soft glowing from the trees, As in consumption's first the cheeks feverish blush, The brightly glist'ning eye, half deceive and still please, But yet so surely speak decay and wasting loss; So in the bright, red-splashed, frost-turned leaves I must know That outward beauty shall become as merely dross When golden-crowned, liarmonious life shall cease to flow. I see the dress of foliage in varied hues ; In lowly and in sheltered place the green remains, 188 As if the early bloom of life it still would choose, To stay unchanged through frosts and time, and still retains The sober but the ever pleasing hue of health ; And on the lower branches of the lithe elm tree, A golden drift of wave on wave, in seeming wealth, Tossed on the autumn air so sweeping, bold and free. Higher I see the gold is tinged with russet brown ; Here life has met the wave receding from the shore. And one by one, each hold relaxed, comes whirling down To soon return to parent dust, and known no more. 'Tis here the lesson of the earth so sadly reads, Youth, manhood and old age shall sureh^ die. In the dread struggle hopeless to supjjly their needs, Till death is peace, and life the echo of a sigh. 189 Dewy yet clear, the eye of faith shall see the leaves, Billowed and winrowed on the wind-swept ground, In life fulfilled in tree or flower, or golden sheaves Of grain, to die and live again and more abound, " Die and increase ! " I hear a resurrection hail ; " There may be change ! " with sorrows tears our eyes are dim ; But as we lift them up a hand sweeps back the veil: — " He giveth all a form as best it pleaseth Him ! " ^ i^ -^ -^ ■^ ^ ^ 190 THE BRIDE OF DAY. O'er the hills with stately pace, Moving in a ling'ring march, Gazing, with an upturned face, At the banded stellar arch ; Sprinkled, spangled, gem-bedight. Bright Day's dark and glorious bride In the mantle of the Night Golden-fringed on either side. Hearing voices never heard Save in deep, mysterious gloom. When the heart of Nature's stirred, By sweet Sympathy attuned. Dropping tears like diamond spray Where her trailing robe is seen 191 Tarrying for the coming Day ; From whose fervent, fiery mien She must flee or melt away. Lingering, his lightest kiss Turns her ghastly pale and grey ; It is death, though light and bliss. Falls the mantle from her form, Meeting on the threshold fair When the roseate clouds of morn Towers al)ove the mists of air. Meeting there her heart is gone, Nothing left but merge in him. Naught of darkness after dawn. Fled the mists and shadows grim. Voices of the day are there, Voices that may none affright, O'er those portals, soft and clear. Float the voices of the light. THE END. r^ ^-..<^ ■x« U ^* 'V ** -^^ ^^K*° >'"\ °o^pi >^-V '. ^^ c " " ° ^ '^a:^ iiii mm