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 »-"-^»* *»»»»"»»»»»»"»»»«»*»» ""'"""""""""""ga 
 
 1880. 
 Printed at the "BANNER" Office. 
 
 HMiiiiiiiiiiiinnininimim»iiiiiiiii, 
 
♦ f 
 
 7? 
 
 i Collection of Poems, 
 

 c>0?®i0-0 
 
mmfmsamm — asaim i .. -,-- 13—— —w q jh»«ULi«c P .».nMi«»jumma.,' i mihiw i 
 
 "A rosy wreath I twine for thee, 
 Its name shall he, remember me.' 
 
 m. r. 
 
 3 ^ 
 
 ^ioOl 
 
 TO 
 
 ^tss Vivian M. Lam : ^ 
 
 
 Le Soto, P. Q. 
 
 This little volume is respectfully dedicated, 
 
 as a token of friendship, 
 
 by an old friend, 
 
 The Author, 
 
 Printed at tfrfe'ffiANNEK" Office. 
 

 "Who breathes must suffer, 
 And who thinks must mourn, 
 
 And he alone is blessed 
 Who ne'er was horn." 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in 
 
 the year 1880, by M. E. Williams, in the office of the 
 
 Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
Preface. 
 
 In preparing this little volume for publication, I 
 have used, in part, as books of reference, the works 
 of a number of different Authors, together with the 
 productions from the pens of intimate friends. 
 
 I do not claim originality in all cases, but have 
 given the Author's name, when known, believing it 
 no more than just, to give honor to whom honor is 
 due. To the kind friends, who have so materially 
 assisted me in many ways, I would here extend my 
 warmest thanks, hoping they may be partially re- 
 munerated by the praiseworthy sentiments which 
 have been uttered in its behalf. 
 
 All of the selections have been made for the 
 pleasure of the reader, with an eye to securing these 
 gems of thought in the least possible space, and I 
 hope they will be so regarded, and be considered 
 worthy of the place they occupy. 
 
 Although some of the following have been offer- 
 ed to the reading public, while others may have been 
 read long ago and forgotten, I trust that no one, into 
 
whose hands this may fall, will cast it aside as too 
 small a work to instruct or interest any one. 
 
 While it is hoped, that taken together, it will 
 make a desirable, as well as acceptable addition to 
 our polite literature, which owe their origin to names 
 more familiar to a discerning public, than that of 
 
 The Author 
 
 VI 
 
"He is no common benefactor, who 
 shrewdly gathers from the world's manifold 
 literature, its words of finest wit and matu- 
 rest w T isdom, for our entertainment, in- 
 struction, and inspiration." 
 
 Vll 
 
8 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 I bring thee a casket of jewels fair, 
 
 They were culled from the ocean, earth, and air: 
 In your tresses they may not shine, 
 
 But gather them all for your spirit's shrine: 
 
 They are gems from the boundless mine of thought! 
 
 With patience and skill into beauty wrought! 
 
 I have hallowed them all with a prayer for thee, 
 
 Then take them — memorial sweet of me! 
 
 Miss H. J. Woodman. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM, 9 
 
 Linss for an Album, 
 
 Within this Album are enshrined 
 
 Grems of Thought, and flowers of Mind: 
 
 In India's Isle are precious gems, 
 Sought for by King and Queen; 
 
 But gems more rare, beyond compare, 
 In this Album may be seen. 
 
 There are flowers fair and fragrant, 
 'Neath the bowers of the crowned: 
 
 But flowers more fair than e'er bloomed there 
 In this Album may be found. 
 
 All earthly gems but please the eye, 
 
 And may be bought for gold: 
 But the gems of Thought, can ne'er be bought, 
 
 Which this Album cloth enfold. 
 
 All flowers of earth will fade and die, 
 
 And lose their sweet perfume: 
 But the flowers of Mind, which are enshrined 
 
 In this Album, shall ever bloom. 
 
10 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 A Pleasant Word. 
 
 May fortune weave a wreath for thee, 
 Of all her choicest flowers: 
 May all thy birth-days bright ones be, 
 And all thy life be happy hours: 
 Such is the prayer I pray for thee, 
 My kindest friend, so dear to me. 
 
 But deem it not an idle thing, 
 
 A pleasant word to speak, - 
 
 The face you wear, the thoughts you bring, 
 
 A heart may heal or break. 
 
 False! 
 
 I know a maiden fair to see, 
 
 Take care. 
 She can both false and friendly be, 
 
 Beware. 
 Trust her not, she's fooling you, 
 
 Beware, oh take care. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 A Eequest. 
 
 When thou art sitting all alone, 
 And thinking of the past, 
 Remember thou hast one true, friend 
 That will forever last. 
 
 But if sometimes in the haunts of men, 
 Thine image from my breast may fade, 
 The lonely hours present again, 
 The semblance of thy gentle shade. 
 
 -w 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 11 
 
 GOOD BYE! 
 
 You had my friendship once, 
 
 I meant the gift to last forever! 
 But now the portals of my heart 
 
 I close, — and you may pass them — never. 
 How near you came you do not know, — 
 
 Nor will I pause, the space to measure, 
 For footprints left in sand, were all 
 
 Too fleeting to attempt to measure. 
 Good bye! however oft we meet, 
 
 However kindly is our greeting, 
 'Tis still good bye 'twixt you and I, 
 
 Whose hearts can never know a second meeting. 
 'Twas a true friendship that you killed; 
 
 No matter, it is dead forever. 
 I liked you once, — I like you still, 
 
 Boa voyage to you, — but here we sever. 
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 'Twas but a breath, — 
 
 And yet a woman's name is wilted, 
 And friends once warm grew cold and stilted, 
 
 And life was worse than death. 
 One venomed word 
 
 That struck its coward, poisoned blow 
 In craven whispers, hushed and low, 
 
 And yet the wide world heard. 
 'Twas but one whispered — one — 
 
 That muttered low for very shame, 
 That thing the slanderer dare not name, 
 
 Yet its work was done. 
 A hint so slight 
 
 And yet so mighty in its power, 
 A human soul, in one short hour, 
 
 Lies crushed beneath its weight. 
 
12 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Past Thoughts. 
 
 To think of every early scene; 
 
 Of what we are, and what we've been, 
 Would overwhelm some softer hearts with woe. 
 
 But mine, alas! has stood the blow; 
 Yet still beats on as it begun, 
 
 And never truly loves but one. 
 How few there are in this wide world 
 
 In whom we may confide; 
 How few who sail on life's broad stream, 
 
 But change with every tide k. m. 9.20-'7i. 
 
 FAKEWELL! 
 
 I had a friend, a treasured friend, 
 
 She was 'my life; toward her alone 
 All happy thoughts did tend, 
 
 And find communion with her own. 
 I weened not that a time so sweet 
 
 Could have an end; and yet too soon 
 God in his mercy deemed it meet 
 
 That each should walk their way alone. 
 But when I fain would say farewell, 
 
 Methought my heart would break in twain; 
 I looked in vain to catch one swell 
 
 Of answering love or bitter pain. 
 Mayhaps upon the face there gleamed 
 
 No outward sign of the sorrowing heart; 
 Mayhaps her thoughts — not what they seemed — 
 
 Were sad indeed that we must part. 
 Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well! 
 
 Who knows not what the words imply? 
 No mortal tongue the grief can tell 
 
 That's mingled in the word, — u good bye." 
 
 HWt ii I I il -*■-- " J *" 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 13 
 
 I STILL LOVE THEE. 
 
 I still love thee, I still love thee, 
 
 I heed not what they say; 
 Though others may have tempted me, 
 
 I must my heart obey. 
 
 They tell me, — when they hear thy name, 
 
 That it can never be: 
 I only know, that praise or blame, 
 
 I still love thee. 
 
 When first I loved, I knew not then 
 
 Another claimed thy heart; 
 And bitter was the feeling, when 
 
 I found that we must part. 
 
 But though you never can be mine, 
 
 Speak kindly still to me, 
 And then my heart will ne'er repine, 
 
 For I still love thee. 
 
 I still love thee, yet deem not now, 
 
 That I, thy love would share, 
 Or bid thee break thy plighted vow, 
 
 To one, perchance more fair. 
 
 I ask thee only to retain 
 
 Some gentle thoughts of me. 
 For I can never love again 
 
 As I loved thee. 
 
 PLEASURES. 
 
 Here in a deep recess of thought, we find 
 Pleasures which entertain and which exalt the mind; 
 Pleasures which do from well-tried friendships rise, 
 
 Which make us happy as well as wise. — Dillon. 
 
14 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 CONSTANT. 
 
 When morning dawns with gladsome light, 
 
 And nights dark hours flee, 
 With every pulsing of my heart, 
 
 Dear one, I'll think of thee. 
 
 When evening shadows dim the earth, 
 
 And day sinks soft to sleep, 
 Then at its close, as at its birth, 
 
 Dear friend, I'll think of thee. Aug .5, '72. 
 
 To My Friend. 
 
 I've pleasant thoughts that memory brings 
 
 In moments free from care: 
 Of a fairy -like and laughing girl, 
 
 With roses in her hair. 
 
 * 
 
 Her smile was like the starlight 
 
 Of summer's softest skies: 
 And worlds of joyousness there shone, 
 
 From out her w T itching eyes. 
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 Low burned the light, the room was dim, 
 We heard the warning clock strike ten, 
 
 And by the moonlight growing glim, 
 
 Knew parting time had nearly come again, 
 
 "I had a dream last night," I said, 
 
 "I'll tell it to you 'ere I go, 
 I thought, my darling, your little head 
 
 Was lying on my shoulder, So!" 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 15 
 
 pTis time to go" I said, and I — 
 I kissed you twice upon the cheek; 
 
 "Now tell me, love, if dreams come true," 
 Most archly did my darling speak. 
 
 "Why some come true, and some do not, 
 Dreams like this, I quite believe." 
 
 And then — I kissed you tw T ice, and got 
 My sleeve entangled in your curls. 
 
 Why is it that to say good night, 
 Must take so long a time? 1 know: 
 
 When lips are sweet, and eyes are bright, 
 One often lingers, loth to go. 
 
 But, somehow, ere I went away 
 
 That night, the clock had struck eleven: 
 
 So long it takes, you see, to say 
 
 What seemed an easy task at seven. 
 
 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Progress, dear friend, and may thy path 
 Through life be strewn with flowers; 
 
 May smile chase smile across thy face, 
 As sunbeams chase the hours. 
 
 While hearts that have been estranged, 
 And friends that have grown cold, 
 
 May meet again like parted streams, 
 And mingle as of old. 
 
 "ESAU." 
 
 I saw Esau kissing Kate, 
 
 And the fact is, we all three saw, 
 For I saw Esau, he saw T me, 
 
 And she saw I saw Esau. 
 
16 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 Mother Shipton's Prophecy. 
 
 In 1448 appeared Mother Shipton's Pkophecy. 
 Soine things foretold in it have already come to 
 pass, and the others may he fulfilled before 1881. 
 The "Poem" reads thus: 
 
 Carriages without horses shall go, 
 And accidents fill the world with woe, 
 Around the world thoughts shall fly 
 In the twinkle of an eye. 
 
 Water yet shall more wonders do, 
 
 Now strange, but yet they shall be true. 
 
 The world upside down shall be, 
 
 And gold be found at the foot of a tree. 
 
 Through hills man shall ride, 
 And no horse be at his side. 
 Under water man shall walk, 
 Shall sleep, shall ride, shall talk. 
 
 In the air men shall be seen, 
 In white, in black, in green. 
 Iron on the water shall float 
 As easy as a wooden boat. 
 
 Gold shall be found and shown 
 In lands not now known. 
 England at last shall admit a Jew, 
 And fire and water shall wonders do. 
 The world to an end shall come 
 In Eighteen Hundred Eighty One. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 17 
 
 ONLY A FADED ROSE! 
 
 Only a faded rose, 
 
 Withered, and brown, and sere; 
 
 Treasured with miserly care 
 
 */ 
 
 Through many a vanished year! 
 
 Only a faded rose, 
 
 A crushed and scentless thing; 
 But I think how it blossom'd for me, 
 
 In youth's delicious spring. 
 
 And brighter bloomed the hopes — 
 That radiant summer's morn, 
 
 That w T ere wreathed in the rose's heart, 
 Ere the perfumed bud had blown. 
 
 The rose lies wither'd and dead — 
 And with it the joys I knew; 
 
 No spring shall awaken the flower; 
 Nor the faded past renew. 
 
 Only a faded rose! 
 
 Treasured with miserly care — 
 Linked with a sweet remembrance 
 
 Of happy days that were. 
 
 REGRETS. 
 
 I wish that you was back again, 
 
 How happy I should be 
 To see you coming up the lane, 
 
 I'd be sure to welcome thee. 
 I know that you are far away, 
 
 But yet I long to see 
 That dear face of yours. Oh say, 
 
 When will you come to me? 
 
18 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 " DEAD. 
 
 And this was her end in a den of shame, 
 
 'Mid the ribald song and jest; 
 But who can tell of the flame that seethed 
 
 Her aching and anguished breast? 
 
 There was a time when the light of her eyes 
 
 Was a gladsome light to see; 
 When her lips wore the smile of a heart at ease, 
 
 In their child-like purity. 
 
 But alas! she loved, and she loved too well, 
 
 In her guileless faith and trust; 
 Nor dreamed of the fate that o'er her hung, 
 
 Till her soul was in the dust. 
 
 And then she scoffed at home and heaven; 
 
 For what were they to her, 
 When her life had grown as dark and as dread 
 
 As the pall upon her bier? 
 
 Yet I dare to drop — and for pity's sake — 
 
 A tear on the coffin-lid; 
 Yes I dare to weep for the poor young thing, 
 
 Beneath, so stilly hid. 
 
 And the world may frown, and the world may sneer; 
 
 Only this much I ken, 
 It can never sully a virgin soul 
 
 To weep for poor Magdalen. 
 
 WHEN HOPE IS DEAD. 
 
 The fairest home that wealth can buv, 
 Scenes that must chain an artist's eye, 
 Faces with beauty beaming bright, 
 Make the heart throb with no delight, 
 When hope is dead! 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 19 
 
 The pleasant dreams of buoyant youth, 
 When all the world seemed draped in truth, 
 The schemes of manhood's strength and prime, 
 Seem soiled and stained with mould and rime, 
 When hope is dead! 
 
 The love which was so dear to us, 
 Of which we were so covetous, 
 So jealous and so proud and vain, 
 We turn from with supreme disdain, 
 When hope is dead! 
 
 The lofty place, the noble name, 
 The toil and strife for gold or fame, 
 And every aspiration high, 
 No longer charm the heart or eye, 
 When hope is dead! 
 
 Our boyhood home beneath the hill, 
 Which once the senses so would thrill, 
 We sadly pass, unheeded by, 
 Without emotion, save a sigh, 
 When hope is dead! 
 
 Better the peaceful, painless bed • 
 Among the silent, dreamless dead, 
 Than the vain effort, toil and strife, 
 To lengthen out an aimless life, 
 When hope is dead! 
 
 Whom first we love, you know 
 We seldom w T ed. time rules us all; 
 And then indeed life is not the thing 
 We planned it out, 
 
 Ere hope was dead. 
 
 — Grant P. Robinson. 
 
20 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 ONLY! ■ 
 
 Only a face at the window, 
 
 Only a face — nothing more; 
 Yet the look in the eyes, as they meet mine, 
 
 Still comes to me, o'er and o'er. 
 
 Only a word of greeting, 
 
 Only a word — that was all; 
 Yet all day in my heart it echoed 
 
 Like the sound of an angel's call. 
 
 Only a smile of welcome, 
 
 Only a smile — as I passed; 
 But that smile will still be remembered 
 
 As long as my life shall last. 
 
 Only a woman, you tell me! 
 
 Only a woman! to thee; 
 But there's naught that this wide world containeth 
 
 Half so dear as this woman to me. 
 
 1865--6. 
 
 I stood in a tower in the wet, 
 
 And the New Year and the Old Year met, 
 And the winds were roaring and blowing; 
 
 And I said, years, that meet in tears, 
 Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? 
 
 Science enough and exploring, 
 Wanderers coming and going, 
 
 Matter enough for deploring; 
 But aught that is worth the knowing? 
 
 Seas at my feet were flowing, 
 Waves on the shingles pouring, 
 
 New Year roaring and blowing, 
 And the Old Year blowing and roaring. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 21 
 
 SKATING WITH THE GIRLS. 
 
 Come, girls, get on your jockey hats, 
 
 Dress in your skating suits, 
 Be sure to lace up snugly 
 
 Your pretty little boots: 
 And we will all go skating, 
 
 For the ice is dear and bright, 
 The moon will soon be up, my dears; 
 
 We'll have a lovely night. 
 
 Then soon we're off, a little hand 
 
 Tucked snugly 'neath each arm, 
 While all the boys are talking love, 
 
 And keeping darlings warm. 
 Oh! don't you think it's jolly, 
 
 Mixing one's self up with curls, 
 And going off on moonlight nights 
 
 Skating with the girls. 
 
 But when it comes to putting on — 
 
 Lord love us, 'aint it nice — 
 To hold the darlings little feet, 
 
 For they have to be so precise, 
 Or the skates won't fit snugly; 
 
 So with many twists and twirls, 
 How long it takes in putting on 
 
 The skates of pretty girls? 
 
 The hand; so small, so very prim, 
 
 The glove so warm and neat, 
 Perhaps the glimpse of a face so white, 
 
 May cause your heart to beat, 
 It takes so long to put on skates 
 
 Of pretty ones with curls, 
 And yet we wish we always could 
 
 Go skating with the girls. 
 
 .^-^.^.kAL^-m--^ 
 
22 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 PATIENCE IN FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 No, no, I can not take your proffered hand: 
 I watch your eyes, and can not understand 
 
 Why those sweet eyes agree with mine no more, 
 As they have always seemed to do before. 
 
 Our ways are separate now, you turned aside, 
 We both have listened to the voice of pride, 
 
 It was a heavy cloud that brought us this, 
 Ah! what a brittle thing a friendship is. 
 
 Many a glad, and young, and sunny year, 
 Full of friendship, holding naught of fear, 
 
 Have we been close companions; but we may 
 Perchance, each find a truer friend, some day. 
 
 Yet I shall miss your little gentle face. 
 
 Your ways and words so full of inborn grace — 
 
 Your hand so strong to grasp; so soft to soothe — 
 Your voice with tones so rich and low and smooth. 
 
 Thanks, thanks, for all the comfort you have given! 
 
 So sweet it seemed to come direct from heaven; 
 Hard is it to believe that you are wrong, 
 
 Whom I have always thought so pure and strong, 
 
 I can not be impatient! oh, I would 
 
 Be very, very angry if I could. 
 You grieve? with tears your lovely eyes are wet, 
 
 It breaks my heart to say good-bye, and yet 
 
 Dear, give me once again your little hand; 
 
 I trust you, though I do not understand, 
 Yes, you are free to go your way, my friend, 
 
 And I will trust and love you to the end. 
 
 M. T. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 23 
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL HOUSE. 
 
 The old school house stands deserted now, 
 
 Where years ago we played; 
 Where the giant oaks with sturdy bough, 
 
 Threw far their generous shade. 
 
 The paths once trod by joyous feet, 
 
 Echo their sound no more; 
 And wild weeds grow around the house, 
 
 And in the open door. 
 
 No more is heard the thrilling shout 
 
 Of children at their play; 
 The playground stands deserted now, 
 
 Through all the gloomy day. 
 
 The roof is slowly falling in, 
 
 The beams are giving w T ay; 
 And through the apertures, there streams 
 
 The struggling light of day. 
 
 NEW YEAK'S EVE. 
 
 The curtains are drawn, the lamps are lit, 
 
 The fire burns ruddy and bright, 
 With my books and cigar in my easy chair, 
 
 I'm sitting, old friend, and wandering where 
 And what you're doing to-night. 
 
 The ghosts of the sweet dead years, old friend, 
 
 The years of the long ago; 
 One by one have come back to me, 
 
 And brought to me faithfully, tenderly, 
 The faces I used to know. 
 
24 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 And whether the golden sunlight falls 
 On the waves by the pleasant shore; 
 
 And the green woods ring with the wild bird's song 
 As happy and free as the day is long, 
 
 We rove together once more. 
 
 Or the wind sweeps o'er the ice locked creek, 
 While the grand u 01d London" is there; 
 
 And the smoking teams toiling up the roads 
 With the heavy drifts and their heavy loads, 
 
 Have all their strength can bear. 
 
 The New Year sits at my hearth to-night, old friend, 
 
 Oh, friend of the long ago: 
 And some whom we loved in those happy days 
 
 Are lost to sight in life's winding ways, 
 And some lie under the snow. 
 
 But there's room in my heart for all, old friend, 
 
 And some time we'll surely meet, 
 Though we've been parted long 
 
 I will know your step among the throng, 
 And your voice will be just as sweet. 
 
 LOVE! 
 
 I will tell thee what it is to love, 
 
 It is to build with human thoughts, a shrine; 
 Where hope sits brooding like a beauteous dove, 
 
 Where time seems young, and life a thing divine. 
 
 All tastes, all pleasures, all desires combine 
 To consecrate this sanctuary of bliss; 
 
 Above, the stars in shroudless beauty shine; 
 
 Around, the streams their flowery margins kiss. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 25 
 
 ~GOD BLESS THE GIRLS. 
 
 God bless the girls, whose golden curls 
 Blend with our evening dreams, 
 
 They haunt our lives, like spirit wives, 
 Or Naiads haunt the streams. 
 
 They soothe our pains, they fill our brains 
 
 With dreams of sunny hours; 
 God bless the girls, God bless their curls, 
 
 God bless our human flowers. 
 
 God bless the wives, they fill our hives 
 
 With little bees and honey; 
 They ease life's shocks, they mend our socks, 
 
 But don't they spend the money? 
 
 When we are sick, they heal us quick — 
 
 That is, — if they love us; 
 If not, we die, and yet they cry, 
 
 And place tomb-stones above us. 
 
 Oh. rougish girls, with sunny curls, 
 
 We may in fancy dream; 
 But wives, true wives, 
 
 Are every thing they seem. 
 
 GONE! 
 
 Softly the shades of twilight are falling, 
 Slowly the glow fades away from the west, 
 
 Sweetly the voice of the night bird is calling, 
 Gently the day-god is sinking to rest. 
 
 Pensively, now, as I sit in the gloaming, 
 Listlessly dreaming and thinking of thee, 
 
26 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 Towards a far land where thy footsteps are roaming, 
 Fancy is turning, and thought wanders free. 
 
 In the blue ether the star jewels glisten, 
 
 'Round the fair brow of the beautiful night; 
 
 To the sad plaint of the night wind I listen, 
 Whilst the dusk hideth the day from my sight. 
 
 Vainly, to-night, I am lingering, sadly 
 
 'Mid the loved scenes where so lately we strayed; 
 
 Out of the days that sped by us so gladly, 
 Never a tint from my memory shall fade. 
 
 Vainly I long for the touch that can thrill me 
 With the sweet thought of a bliss half divine; 
 
 Only the darkness and silence that chill me, 
 
 Stretch their weird fingers and clasp them in mine 
 
 Gone is the presence that brightened the hours, 
 Gone is the voice that was sweeter to me than song, 
 
 Lost is the charm of the rides and the glow of flowers, 
 Heavily now T drag the moments along. 
 
 Oh! the heart that truly loves never forgets, 
 
 But as truly loves on to the close; 
 As the sun-flower turns to her god when he sets, 
 
 The same look that she gave when he rose. 
 
 MY DBEAM, 
 
 A slender form, a girlish face, 
 Blue eyes, and golden hair! 
 
 Sweet lips, dear lips, and sunny smiles, 
 A vision angel fair! 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 27 
 
 Oh, gentle eyes! oh, cruel eyes! 
 
 Why will you haunt me so? 
 Filled with the old sweet tenderness, 
 
 The love of long ago. 
 
 A merry laugh, a pleasant voice. 
 
 Sweet chimes, like silver bells; 
 Old music unforgotten still, 
 
 Around me rings and swells. 
 Oh, wooing voice! oh, cruel voice! 
 
 Why will you haunt me so? 
 Speaking the old sweet tenderness, 
 
 The love of long ago. 
 
 An angel form, a blessed face, 
 
 A picture fading never! 
 The anguish of a vanished hope, 
 
 That clings to me forever. 
 Oh, blessed dream! oh, cruel dream! 
 
 Why will you haunt me so? 
 Sad with the old sweet tenderness, 
 
 The love of long ago. 
 
 THE DAYS OF YOUTH. 
 
 Oh for the days, the joyous days, 
 
 The days when I was young; 
 When in mine ear Health's blessed voice 
 
 A heavenly anthem sung; 
 When naught of sorrow, naught of strife, 
 
 Had marr'd the pageant gay 
 That swept the golden plains of life 
 
 With banners bright as day. 
 
28 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 I loved a love then sweeter far 
 
 Than any now I see; 
 Her brow was like the morning star, 
 
 Her step was light and free, 
 But she is dead! about her bed 
 
 The wild winds careless play; 
 And all in vain I strive to gain 
 
 The peace that's passed away. 
 
 Last eve 1 watch'd two lovers pace 
 
 A garden's smiling green; 
 While I looked on her tender face, 
 
 She on his breast did lean. 
 She was a bride! I gazed and sighed, 
 
 And oh! my eyes grew dim; 
 And through my tears, a-down the years, 
 
 I saw — what might have been! 
 
 Soft are the shadows in the wood 
 
 Sweet are its blossoms fair; 
 I love the fields — the dew that vields 
 
 Its freshness to the air. 
 But 'mid them all there is a voice 
 
 That I alone can hear; 
 In sorrow's tones it sighs, it moans 
 
 Of blossoms dead and sere. 
 
 To F. A. S. 
 
 Often, as I sit 
 
 Wrapt in meditation sweet, 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 29 
 
 Thinking of the time when childhood's 
 
 Stream, with that of manhood's meet, 
 Thoughts come welling up within me, 
 
 Feelings that I can not smother — 
 Nay, nor would I drown them, could I, 
 
 Thoughts of happy childhood, friend. 
 You remember where we dwelt, 
 
 In our little village quiet, 
 'Round which ran so many roads, 
 
 E'er inviting us to ride. 
 Years since then have come and vanished, 
 
 In the village dwells many a stranger, 
 All the roads are changed and different — 
 
 Do you not feel sad, dear friend? 
 
 Where are those we used to love? 
 
 School-mates, pleasant school-mates, clear; 
 True, the school-house yet is standing, 
 
 And will stand this many a vear; 
 But the scholars, where are they? 
 
 One has followed quick the other, 
 Some to roam, while some are sleeping 
 
 In the quiet grave-yard, friend. 
 Time, what wonders thou hast wrought! 
 
 Oh, what changes we have seen! 
 Years roll back as in a moment, 
 
 Yet what winders lie between. 
 Children once we played together, 
 
 Happy ever with each other; 
 Now we part, but let us ever 
 
 Love as then we loved, dear friend. 
 
 IT NEVER COMES AGAIN. 
 
 There are gains for all our losses, 
 There are balms for all our pains, 
 
30 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 But when youth, the dream, departs, 
 
 It takes something from our hearts, * 
 And it never comes again. 
 
 We are stronger, and are better 
 - Under manhood's sterner reign; 
 Still we feel that something sweet ., 
 
 Followed youth with flying feet, 
 And will never come again. 
 
 Something beautiful is banished, 
 
 And we sigh for it in vain; 
 We behold it everywhere, 
 
 But it never comes again. r. h. Stoddard. 
 
 A TURNED-DOWN PAGE! 
 
 There's a turned-down page, as some writer says, 
 
 In every human life — 
 A hidden story of happier days — 
 
 Of peace amid the strife. 
 
 A folded leaf that the world knows not — 
 
 A love-dream rudely crushed; 
 The sight of a foe that is not forgot, 
 
 Altho' the the voice be hushed. 
 
 The far-distant sounds of a harp's soft strings 
 
 An echo on the air; 
 The hidden page may be full of such things, 
 
 Of things that once were fair. 
 
 There's a hidden page in every life, and mine 
 
 A story might unfold; 
 But the end was sad of the dream divine — 
 
 It better rests untold. 
 
nngmgBBnHBBS 
 
 FRIE NDSHIPS AL BUM. 31 
 
 TO A FEIEND. 
 
 Pleasant thoughts are o'er me stealing, 
 Memories sweet with sadness blend; 
 
 Waking founts of grateful feelings 
 In my heart, for thee, dear friend. 
 
 Light and shadows mingle ever 
 In these fleeting lives of ours; 
 
 Friends must meet, and then must sever 
 Clouds will dim the brightest hours. 
 
 When my heart lay crushed and weary, 
 Nobly then you soothed my pain; 
 
 Till the dark world looked less dreary, 
 And I learned to hope again. 
 
 I would ask of gracious heaven, — 
 If my prayer avail on high; 
 
 That grace here to thee be given, 
 And a home beyond the sky. 
 
 Thoughts of sunny hours I treasure, 
 Linked with memories of thee; 
 
 Fraught were they of purest pleasure, 
 Full of comfort sweet to me. 
 
 May thy life's path ne'er be clouded 
 With stern grief or wild despair; 
 
 Nor thy heart in shadows shrouded, 
 Droop beneath a weight of care. 
 
 Though full soon has come our parting, 
 Shrouding all the sunshine past; 
 
 Shadows vanish, clouds are parting; 
 We shall meet again at last. 
 
32 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 YOUTH'S DEPASTURE. 
 
 I cling to thee, Youth! with nervous grasp: 
 
 In vain my weak endeavor — 
 A shadow only in mine arms I clasp, 
 
 But thou art gone forever. 
 
 Delightful time, fair morning of my life! 
 Hast thou indeed departed? 
 
 with what airy gladness wert thou rife! 
 Thou leav'st me broken-hearted- 
 
 And with thee gone are all my hopes so fair, 
 
 My zeal and high ambition, 
 My dreams and lofty castles in the air — 
 
 All gone with thee, magician! 
 
 1 wonder oft if others mourn like me 
 
 Thine early rapid fleeting, 
 And deem this death in life far worse to be 
 Than any future meeting! 
 
 Thou'rt gone: I'll think of all thy loves and joys, 
 
 Forget each trifling sorrow, 
 And in the future, whatso'er annoys, 
 
 Some light from thee I'll borrow. 
 
 I will not feign and keep thy dying hid, 
 
 But garb myself in sable, 
 Mourning as Rachel for her children did — 
 
 No friend to soothe is able. 
 
 Yet there's a stream in which I soon must sink — 
 
 Is it, can it be truth? 
 I'll rise, and, having gained its farther brink, 
 
 Find an Undying Youth. 
 
 Feb. 22, 1878. W. J. H. Hogan. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 33 
 
 FABE THEE WELL! 
 
 Fare thee well, love; Ave must sever — 
 
 Not for years, love, but forever; 
 We meet no more — or only 
 
 Meet as strangers, sad and lonely, — 
 
 Fare thee well! 
 
 Fare thee well, love; how I languish 
 
 For the cause of all my anguish; 
 None have ever met and parted 
 
 So forlorn and broken-hearted, — 
 
 Fare thee well! 
 
 Fare thee well, love; could'st thou know 
 
 The fatal spell that binds me so; 
 Thou'dst regret the words thus spoken — 
 
 Regret the cause, the heart thus broken, — 
 
 Fare thee well! 
 
 *■ 
 
 Fare thee well, love; now and ever! 
 
 Can two fond hearts thus dissever? 
 Can you — will you ever find 
 
 A heart more warm, more true than mine? — 
 
 Fare thee well! 
 
 Fare thee well, love; until I perish 
 
 All mv truth for thee I'll cherish; 
 And when thou my requiem hearest, 
 
 Know, till death, I loved thee dearest, — 
 
 Fare thee well! 
 
 EITTIE. 
 
 Kneeling by the stream, I saw 
 Kate, the farmer's daughter; 
 
34 FEIEXDSHIPS ALBUM, 
 
 Drinking in her rosy palm, 
 Dipping up the water. 
 
 She had thrown her hat aside, 
 Bare was arm and shoulder; 
 
 Each unconscious charm displayed 
 Made my love the bolder. 
 
 So I slowly, tenderly, 
 
 Went and knelt beside her; 
 
 Drank with her from out the stream, 
 Blushing Kittie Ryder. 
 
 And I said the poets tell us 
 
 •'Life is like a river;" 
 Shall we not its waters sweet 
 
 Always drink together? 
 
 Many years have passed us by, 
 
 Like the flowing water; 
 But I drink life's stream to-day 
 
 With Kate, the farmer's daughter. 
 
 THE BRIDAL, 
 
 Not a laugh was heard, not a joyous note, 
 As our friend to the bridal we hurried; 
 
 Not a wit discharged his farewell shot, 
 As the bachelor went to be married. 
 
 We married him quickly to save his fright, 
 Our heads from the sad sight turning; 
 
 And we sighed as we stood by the lamp's dim light, 
 To think that he was not more discerning. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 35 
 
 To think that a bachelor, free and bright, 
 And shy of the sex as we found him, 
 
 Should there at the altar, at dead of night, 
 Be caught in the snare that bound him. 
 
 Few and sad were the words we said, 
 Though of wine and cake partaking; 
 
 We escorted him home from the scene of dread. 
 While his knees were awfully shaking- 
 
 Slow T ly and sadly we marched him dow r n 
 From the first to the lower most story; 
 
 And we never have seen or heard of the poor man 
 Whom we left alone in his glory. 
 
 A decidedly confirmed old Bachelor 
 
 A LEAL JEST! 
 
 Among my books I found to-day 
 
 A paper which, I don't know how, 
 Had years before been put away, 
 
 And left forgotten there till now; 
 I took it up to read. Ah me! 
 
 After the first few words or so, 
 My eyes were grown too dim to see, 
 
 It was a jest of long ago. 
 
 No deepest grief it wakes again; 
 
 It brought no sharp especial sting; 
 Only the general mystic pain 
 
 That distant memories always bring. 
 So altered seemed the days of yore, 
 
 So near akin are smiles and tears, 
 That few sad things can move us more 
 
 Than those dead jests of by-gone years 
 
36 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 
 
 'Tis memory's hand that is pushing aside 
 
 The veil which is woven of years, 
 
 Which Time has let fall o'er the face of the past, 
 
 To hide both its smiles and its tears. 
 
 Sweet music, bright smiles, let me claim as my own, 
 
 And gather what joys they may lend, 
 Remembering only 
 That hearts may grow lonely, 
 
 But memory proves a true friend. 
 
 A little farm-house at the end of a lane, 
 
 Half hidden by lithe bending trees, 
 
 Tall locusts and maples, and cedars so green, 
 
 Which wave in the soft summer breeze; 
 
 Beyond this an orchard whose fruit-laden boughs 
 
 Beneath their rich burdens droop low T er and lower. 
 
 But look! through the branches 
 
 A silver lake glances, 
 And sweet rippling music is heard from the shore. 
 
 Ah, these are the echoes which memory wakes, 
 The weird soothing music that drifting waves learn, 
 As meeting and parting they ripple along, 
 Till, kissing the pebbles, they break and return. 
 Bright, bright is the picture, this smile of the past, 
 A cherished remembrance of the days that are gone, 
 
 Of childhood's bright morning, 
 
 So fair at its dawning, 
 When never a w T earisome burden was known. 
 
 Oh, let me go back to those dear scenes again, 
 Again on the pebble strown shore 
 
 ssasitsx 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 37 
 
 Let waves gently beat as they tirelessly roll, 
 And soothe with their music once more. 
 Ah years swiftly passing hold many a chasm, 
 And many a joy with their sadness is known, 
 But memory may measure 
 A true, heart-felt pleasure, 
 By guiding us back to our dear child-hood's home, 
 
 Kittie Cuthbertson. Sept. 5, 1877. 
 
 ONLY A BINS! 
 
 Only a ring, yet I prize it more 
 
 Than all the gems from India's shore; 
 
 Not all the wealth of the world untold 
 Is as dear to me as this band of gold. 
 
 Only a ring, but 1 love it well, 
 
 Better than words can ever tell; 
 'Tis a pledge to me of affection true, 
 
 Best and dearest I ever knew. 
 
 Only a ring, and yet in this 
 
 Is centered all of my earthly bliss; 
 
 All my hopes of the future — yes, 
 Every dream of happiness. 
 
 Only a ring, but if you knew 
 
 The heart so brave, the love so true, 
 
 You would not wonder that to me 
 
 His ring is more than the world could be. 
 
 Only a ring, from one whose love 
 
 I prize all earthly things above; 
 So do not deem it a trifling thing, 
 
 For the love of the giver came with the ring. 
 
 Laura M. Bidder. 
 
F1UEXDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 SUMMER EVENINGS. 
 
 When the winds are hushed in silence, 
 And the night comes softly down; 
 When the moon puts forth her radiance, 
 Lighting up the dusty town; 
 Then away across the river, 
 Silver-tipped are all the waves, 
 x\nd the waters murmur ever. 
 Rushing through their rockv caves. 
 
 Over all the little islands, 
 Sprinkled on the limpid stream, 
 Fireflies dance through summer evenings, 
 And the woods with beautv teem. 
 Farmer's fields slope gently downward, 
 Downward to the river's brim, 
 Nodding all their golden tassels, 
 Laden with sweet food for him. 
 
 Often in the pleasant evenings, 
 Snow r y sails skim far and near 
 O'er the silvery, dancing waters, 
 While the laughter rings out clear. 
 And the rocks laugh back an echo 
 All along the sounding shore, 
 Till the voices laugh no longer, 
 And the music's heard no more. 
 
 When the world is sweetly slumbering, 
 And the stars their vigils keep, 
 Then how beautiful, how lovely 
 Are the hills and valleys deep. 
 Then the silver moon walks queenly 
 In her path among the stars, 
 Till the hours at Phoebus' bidding 
 Ope for him the golden bars. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 39 
 
 THERE IS A TIME. 
 
 There is a time when summer roses bloom, 
 But winter snows are soon their helpless tomb. 
 There is a time when joys can glad the heart, 
 But life's stern truths cause bitter tears to start. 
 There is a time when gayly sounds the lute, 
 But, in rude hands, its dearest chords are mute. 
 New roses bloom, new joys the heart may know, 
 The strings may thrill — but ah! the long ago. 
 There is a time when bloom fades on the leaf, 
 And great joys are, in parting, deeper grief. 
 There is a time when glows the ashen cheek, 
 But death steals nigh, the hectic flushes speak. 
 There is a time when tightly clinging hands 
 Clasp nevermore, save in the Morning Lands. 
 New buds will grow, rest come to weary feet, 
 Flowers deck dear graves, the Past was very sweet. 
 
 May, 1878. LaMoille. 
 
 A THOUGHT. 
 
 The days will come, and the days will go, 
 
 Bringing joy to some, to others wo; 
 
 But, as they pass, to me they say, 
 
 Gone from your life is another day. 
 
 Say, What of the bud? What of the flower? 
 
 Is the promise bright for the final hour? 
 
 For, sigh as we will, regret as we may, 
 
 Tears and sorrow recall no day. 
 
 Live, then, the life of promise bright, 
 
 That gladdens the day, illumes the night, 
 
 Brings with each morn the will to do 
 
 The Master's work while here below; 
 
 And as time passes, and Death draws near, 
 
 The future for us is hopeful and fair. 
 
 Chicago, Feb. 22, 1878. A. W. P. 
 
40 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 AN OLD LETTEK. 
 
 It is but an old, old letter, 
 
 Discolor'd and dim with age; 
 And many a tell-tale mark and sign 
 
 Are stamp'd upon every page. 
 There are words that are trembling, faint and pale; 
 
 There are blots where the tear drops fell; 
 There are sentences wrung from a tortured heart; 
 
 And a terrible tale they tell. 
 
 It was penn'd in the golden summer, 
 
 When the forests were fresh and green; 
 And the fragrant breath of the jessamine buds 
 
 Must over its leaves have been. 
 The bee must have flitted oft in and out 
 
 Through the quaint old window pane; 
 The thrush must have perch'd on the bough hard by, 
 
 And warbled his sweet refrain. 
 
 TEIFLES. 
 
 The wave that floods the trembling shore 
 
 CD 
 
 And desolates the strand, 
 In ebbing, leaves mid froth and wreck 
 A shell upon the sand. 
 
 So troubles oft o'erwhelm the soul, 
 And shake the constant mind, 
 
 That in retreating leave a pearl 
 Of memory behind. 
 
 
FRIEXDSHIP'S ALBUM. 41 
 
 THE HEART'S SECRETS. 
 
 A wild, wet night! The driving sleet 
 
 Blurs all the lamps along the quay; 
 The windows shake; the busy street 
 
 Is yet alive with hurrying feet; 
 The wind raves from the sea! 
 
 So let it rave! My lamp burns bright; 
 My long days work is almost done; 
 
 I curtain out each sound and sight — 
 Of all nights in the year, tonight 
 
 I choose to be alone. 
 
 Alone, with doors and windows fast, 
 
 Before my open desk I stand, 
 Alas! can twelve long months be past, 
 
 My hidden, hidden wealth, since last 
 I held thee in my hand? 
 
 So, there it lies! from year to year 
 1 see the ribbon change; the page 
 
 Turns yellower; and the very tear 
 That blots the writing, disappear 
 
 And fade away with age! 
 
 My eyes grow dim when they behold 
 
 The precious trifles hoarded there — 
 A ring of battered Indian gold, 
 
 A withered hare-bell and a fold 
 Of sunny chestnut hair. 
 
 Not all the riches of the earth, 
 Not all the treasures of the sea, 
 
 Could buy these house-gods from my hearth: 
 And yet the secret of their worth 
 
 Must live and die with me. 
 
42 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 LESSONS UNLEARNED. 
 
 "And men, thro' novel spheres of thought, 
 Still moving after truth long sought. 
 Will learn new things when 1 am not." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 All yes, there is many an unplowed field 
 For somebody's toil a rich harvest will yield; 
 Full many a furrow for others to turn, 
 Full many a mystery others may learn. 
 There's many a height which I failed to attain, 
 Another one, climbing, may easily gain; 
 And depths, thro' whose darkness I never could go, 
 Some other will fathom, their richness to know r ; 
 Another may reap where I never have sown, 
 May wander in paths which I never have known. 
 
 The wide world of knowledge is wondrouslv fair, 
 And wisdom's rich treasures are free as the air. 
 And oh, I am willing that others should cross 
 The broad fields of learning and win what I've lost. 
 Glad am I to know there are souls which may yearn 
 Like mine, feeling just the same longing to learn; 
 To know there are eves iust as eager to see 
 The beautiful light that is hidden from me; 
 To know there are hands just as eager to clasp 
 The treasures which ever have slipped from my grasp; 
 To know there are feet just as eager to climb, 
 Going higher and higher, not fettered like mine. 
 
 Yes, willing am I that all others should find, 
 In all their fair brightness, the jewels oftuind; 
 For sometime these treasures, that are now concealed, ; 
 May, in their bright beauty, to me be revealed. 
 
 Kittie Cuthbertson, Nov. 17, 1877. 
 
 ZSLs.,^ tftS 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 43 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 We have dreamed fond dreams together, 
 
 You and I. 
 Brightest dreams in brightest weather, 
 
 You and I. 
 Spring's soft skies were blue above us, . 
 Merrily rang the wild bird's chorus, 
 When came dreams so free and joyous 
 
 To you and I. 
 
 Happy dreams of hearts united — 
 
 Yours and mine. 
 Tender vows that true hearts plighted — 
 
 Yours and mine. 
 Summer's heat and Summer's showers, 
 'Mid Summer's frail and fragrant flowers, 
 In sport we chased the fleeting hours, 
 
 Then yours and mine. 
 
 Chimes of bells from dreamland winging, 
 
 Yours and mine. 
 Wedding-bells in joyous ringing, 
 
 Yours and mine. 
 Still in Autumn's golden glory 
 Conned we still the old, sweet story — 
 It was then, indeed, our story — 
 
 Yes, yours and mine. 
 
 Sleep and dreams have fled together, 
 
 You and I: 
 Apart we walk in winter weather, 
 
 You and I. 
 Of the past remains no token, 
 No signs tell of fond hearts broken, 
 Save a memory unspoken 
 
 By you and I. Anemone. 
 
44 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 THE MERRY LAUGH. 
 
 I love to hear a merry laugh 
 
 Outringing wild and free; 
 As floats the music of the winds 
 
 Across the sunny sea. 
 The merry laugh goes hand in hand 
 
 With happiness and mirth; 
 And at its silvery toned command 
 
 Joy nestles round each heart. 
 
 The merry laugh bespeaks a heart 
 
 With noble feelings warm; 
 One that will bravely do its part 
 
 In sunshine or in storm. 
 The music of a merry laugh 
 
 Sets aged hearts aglow: 
 The smiles gleam o'er the wrinkled brow 
 
 Like sunset o'er the snow. 
 
 Then let the merry laugh ring out 
 
 Upon the balmy air, 
 And let its gladness put to rout 
 
 The bold intruder — Care. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF THE PAST. 
 
 List, 'tis an echo that is borne on the air, 
 
 A long forgotten refrain; 
 It comes with a burden of sweetness to me, 
 
 And thrills with its music again. 
 It is memory's hand that is touching the chords, 
 Awaking with mystical skill, 
 
 In all its completeness, 
 Its rare perfect sweetness, 
 The slumbering music at will. c.e. n. 187* 
 
FRIEXDSHIP'S ALBUM. 45 
 
 OCTOBER'S SONG. 
 
 u O deep brown eyes," sang gay October, 
 "Deep brown eyes running over with glee; 
 
 Blue eyes are pale, and gray eyes are sober; 
 Bonnie brown eyes are the eyes for me. 
 
 Black eyes shine in the glowing summer 
 With red of rose and yellow of corn; 
 
 But cold they close when the still late-comer, 
 Silvery Frost creeps over the morn. 
 
 Blue eyes shimmer with angel glances, 
 
 Like spring violets over the lea — 
 But oh, my Grapes, my Wines and my Dances, 
 
 What have angels in common with thee? 
 
 Go, Gray Eyes! What know ye of laughing, 
 Giddy with glee from the mere sunshine? 
 
 Go to your books! What know ye of quaffing 
 Luscious juice from the riotous vine? 
 
 All the earth is full of frolicking; 
 
 Growing is over; harvest is done; 
 All the trees are ready for rollicking, 
 
 Glowing scarlet with rustical fun. 
 
 Stay, Brown Eyes, in the purple weather, 
 A crown of oak leaves with maple blent 
 
 Shall deck your brow, while gayly together 
 We two will wander to heart's content." 
 
 Thus October's wild voice was singing, 
 While on his pipe he cunningly played; 
 
 All the red woods with music were ringing, 
 And Brown Eyes listen'd, with footsteps stay'd 
 
«-. ■ »■. ' - ■' - " • ~.-m 
 
 46 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM, 
 
 Waited to hear the song beguiling, 
 
 Listened and laughed through the sunny day; 
 And earth and sky fell to merry weeping, „ 
 
 As hand in hand they wandered away. 
 
 C. E. N. 1878. 
 
 HAST THOU FORGOTTEN? 
 
 Say, hast thou so soon forgotten 
 
 All those happy days of yore, 
 In thy heart is there no yearning 
 
 Once again to live them o'er? 
 Though thy many vows were broken, 
 
 Ere a hundred suns had set, 
 And though others have been spoken, 
 
 Thou could' st not so soon forget. 
 
 Come there never thoughts unto thee 
 
 Of a far off moonlight night 
 When we, 'neath the maple branches 
 
 Dreamed the coming years all bright? 
 Though another bends above you, 
 
 Comes there never one regret, 
 And amid his flattering fondness 
 
 Do you ever quite forget? 
 
 And among the hours of pleasure, 
 
 Which are still held dear by thee, 
 Are there none we passed together, 
 
 Sacred In thy memory? 
 Does not the night wind, heavy laden 
 
 With scented hawthorn's bloom, e'en yet 
 Thrill with sudden, sickening faintness — 
 
 Do you, can you quite forget? 
 
 Mary W. Mickles, 1868. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM, 47 
 
 TURNING GRAY. 
 
 Life's sands are running fast away; 
 
 The buoyant step of youth has gone: 
 The falling hair is turning gray, 
 
 And time seems now to hurry on 
 More fleetly than in days of yore — 
 
 Before the heart became its prey — 
 Before 'twas saddened to the core — 
 
 Before the hair was tnrning gray. 
 
 Yes, turning gray! Age comes like snow; 
 
 As still — and carves each care-worn line; 
 Its wrinkles on the brow will grow; 
 
 The hair with silvery streaks will shine; 
 The eyes their brightness lose; the hand 
 
 Grow dry and tremulous and thin; 
 For life, alas! is quickly spanned, 
 
 And death its gates soon closes in. 
 
 Ah! turning gray! we fain would hide 
 
 The sign how long with time we've been — 
 These deepened wrinkles side by side, 
 
 Cut by the sorrow w T e have seen; 
 For feeble beats the heart as years 
 
 More thickly cluster on our head — 
 As autumn rain-drops hung, like tears, 
 
 On some fair flower that's nearly dead. 
 
 Like perished petals from the flower, 
 
 Our hopes and wildest joys are laid; 
 Born only for a day or hour, 
 
 Sweet gambols by the fancy played. 
 As age comes on, we long for rest, 
 
 As saints near shrines will long to pray; 
 But still we love that time the best 
 
 Before the hair is turning gray. 
 
48 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 "MIGHT HAVE BEEN." 
 
 Oft as I sit beside the fire, 
 
 When each separate glowing coal 
 
 Seems to breathe amidst the darkness, 
 And to have a living soul; 
 
 And I think what might have happened, 
 Had not something come between — 
 
 There's a Trinity of Anguish 
 
 In that one phrase, "might have been." 
 
 Oh, the girls we might have married, 
 
 Oh, the wealth we might have made, 
 Oh, the light we might have lived in, 
 
 We who now live in the shade. 
 Oh, the good w T e might have gained, too, 
 
 Oh, the fame we might have won, 
 Oh, the words we might have spoken, 
 
 Oh, the deeds we might have done. 
 
 THE WITHERED ROSE-BUD, 
 
 The rose-bud is withered, and faded, and old, 
 
 That I gaze on so sadly to-day, 
 But a thousand fond memories, living and green, 
 
 Are hid in its petals away. 
 
 I see it no longer as dead and decayed, 
 But fragrant and glittering w T ith dew; 
 
 As the donor, more fair than a rose-bud herself, 
 First presented the gift to my view. 
 
 She found the bright bud on the bank of the stream, 
 And twined it around my dark hair; 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 49 
 
 The ringlets that clustered around her white brow, 
 Were glossy, and silken, and fair. 
 
 Her eyes were like heaven, so deep, and so blue, 
 Her cheek had the tint of the shell; 
 
 Her smile like a seraph's, her voice soft and low, 
 As her accents so lovingly fell. 
 
 But the rose-bud lies scentless and withered, to day, 
 
 Its fragrance and beauty are fled; 
 And the dear hand that gathered the opening flower 
 
 Rests pulseless, and still, with the dead. 
 
 We weep for each blighted blossom that dies, 
 
 Sad, sorrowing, bitter tears: 
 Ah! ashes, and dust! how thick it lies 
 
 On our weary three-score years. 
 
 E. B. Robinson. 
 
 MEMORY'S CASKET. 
 
 How rich, how sparkling are the gems 
 
 Which in this casket lie; 
 They vie with those bright "orbs of night," 
 
 Which dot the evening sky. 
 
 Yes, dearer far are they to me, 
 
 Than gold or jewels rare; 
 Or those gay baubles which the rich, 
 
 The proud and haughty wear. 
 
 The precious stones may brightly shine 
 
 On beauty's snowy brow; 
 Yet what its worth to saddened hearts — 
 
 Care they for jewels now? 
 
50 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 no, 1 can not heal the wound, 
 
 Or soothe the sorrowing breast; 
 For in the gay and glittering throng, 
 
 They only sigh for rest. 
 
 But memory's gems are ever dear 
 
 To sorrow's only child; 
 Their gentle lustre dazzles not, 
 
 But glows with beauty mild. 
 
 They seem to have a magic power 
 
 To cheer the sorrowing heart; 
 Unlike those cold and glittering stones, 
 
 They strength and hope impart. 
 
 For though the present may be dark, 
 
 And clouds around us lower; 
 The blissful memories of the past 
 
 Will cheer the darkest hour. 
 
 Ella Stanwood. 
 
 PAST MEMORIES. 
 
 
 Long years have passed, since first we met 
 
 'Mid life's gay festive band, 
 And there with hearts unscathed with woe, 
 
 Grasped each the other's hand: 
 Then ah! what joy, and hallowed hope, 
 
 Made glad the sunlit way 
 That led from 'mid those scenes of youth, 
 
 To sorrows of to-day! 
 Ay, sorrows drear! for when compared 
 
 Is the present with the past, 
 And judged are friends now gon6, forgot, 
 
 My soul in gloom is cast! 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 51 
 
 Oh, fond, loved friend! ah, happy hours! 
 
 Canst never more return 
 To chase regret from out my heart, 
 
 To dry the tears that burn 
 E'en now upon my grief-seared heart, 
 
 Whilst pass the hours of night? 
 reason, sleep! and bless me, Heaven, 
 
 With dreams of pure delight! 
 
 Thy hand, dear friend! those scenes have gone, 
 
 No more to bless again; 
 The present yet may yield new joys, 
 
 The past need give no pain: 
 What though each link in friendship's chain 
 
 Is broke, if thou and I 
 Still faithful store the memory 
 
 Of griefs and joys past by? 
 
 J.Harry Hay ward. 
 
 HOLIDAYS. 
 
 The holiest of all holidays are those 
 
 Kept by ourselves in silence and apart — 
 The secret anniversaries of the heart, 
 When the full river of feeling overflows — 
 
 The happy days unclouded to their close, 
 The sudden joys that out of darkness start 
 As flames from ashes; swift desires, that dart 
 Like swallows singing down each wind that blows; 
 
 White as the gleam of a receding sail; 
 
 White as the cloud that floats and fades in air; 
 White as the whitest lily on a stream, 
 
 These tender memories are; a fairy tale 
 
 Of some enchanted land we know not where 
 But lovely as a landscape in a dream. 
 
52 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES. 
 
 Like a soft Summer-shower of rose-petals 
 
 Fall mem'ries around me to-night, 
 That come in their beauty and brightness, 
 
 A source of unfailing delight; 
 And back roll the years on Time's dial. 
 
 That left here their impress of care, 
 But could not efface childish memories. 
 
 Nor dim the old lustre 'twas there. 
 
 I think of a gray, lonely forest, 
 
 Where winds at the silence would weep, 
 Where sunshine lodged up in the branches. 
 
 And feared 'mong the branches to creep. 
 Twas there yellow leaves in the Autumn. 
 
 Secluded when tired of their play. 
 And folded to rest, soon were dreaming, 
 
 Were dreaming their brief lives away. 
 
 I think of a brook that played ever 
 
 Just down bv a low, rocky ledge, 
 Where snow-breasted lilies drooped over, 
 
 And daintily sipped at the edge. 
 There, watching the musical ripples, 
 
 Our minds with sweet fancies would teem. 
 And brighter than ever the sunshine. 
 
 Was the light of that beautiful dream. 
 
 Kir tl and, Ind. Annie Blye. 
 
 SUMMER FRIENDS. 
 
 Let your summer friends go by, 
 With the sunny weather, 
 
 m 
 
 Hearts there are, that will not fly, 
 Though the storm should gather. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 53 
 
 Summer love to fortune clings, 
 
 From the wreck it saileth, 
 Like the bee it spreads its wings, 
 
 When the honey faileth. 
 
 Rich the soil where weeds appear, 
 
 Let their false bloom perish; 
 Flowers there are, more rare and dear, 
 
 That you still may cherish. 
 
 Flowers of feeling, pure and warm, 
 
 Hearts that can not wither — 
 These for thee shall hide the storm, 
 
 As the sunny weather. 
 
 A EELIC! 
 
 Only a woman's right hand glove, 
 
 Five and three-quarters, Alexander's make — 
 For all common purposes useless enough. 
 
 Yet dearer for her sweet sake. 
 
 Dearer to me for her who filled 
 
 Its empty place with a warm white hand — 
 The hand I have held ere her voice was stilled 
 
 In the sleep of the silent land. 
 
 Only a glove! yet speaking to me 
 
 Of the dear days now^ vanished and fled, 
 
 And the face that I never again shall see 
 Till the grave give back its dead. 
 
 An empty glove! yet to me how full 
 
 Of the fragrance of the days that come no more; 
 Of memories that make us, and thoughts that rule 
 
 Man's life in its inmost core. 
 
54 FRIEND SHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 The tone of her voice, the pose of her hand — 
 All, all come back at the will's behest; 
 
 The music she loved, the books that she read — 
 Nay, the colors that suited her best. 
 
 And oh! that night by the wild sea shore, 
 
 With its tears, and its kisses, and its vows of love, 
 
 When as a pledge of the parting promise we swore, 
 Each gave a glove for a glove. 
 
 You laugh! but remember though only a glove, 
 And to you may no deeper meaning express, 
 
 To me it is changed by the light of that love, 
 To the one sweet thing I possess! 
 
 Our souls draw their nurture from many a ground, 
 And faiths that are different in their roots, 
 
 Where the will is right and the heart is sound, 
 Are much the same in their fruits. 
 
 Men get at the truths by different roads. 
 And must live at the part of it each one sees; 
 
 You gather your guides out of orthodox codes, 
 I mine out of trifles like these. 
 
 A trifle, no doubt, but in such a case, 
 So bathed in the light of a life gone by, 
 
 It has entered the region, and takes its place 
 With the things that can not die. 
 
 This trifle to me is of heavenly birth; 
 
 No chance, as I take it, but purposely given 
 To help me to sit somewhat looser to earth 
 
 And closer a little to heaven. 
 
 For it seems to bring me so near, oh, so near 
 To the face of an angel watching above — 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM 55 
 
 That face of all others I held so dear, 
 With its yearning eyes of love. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 FOR A TEMPERANCE DINNER TO WHICH LADIES 
 WERE INVITED. 
 
 A health to dear woman! she bids us untwine 
 From the cup that encircles the fast-clinging vine; 
 But her cheek in its crystalwith pleasure will glow, 
 And mirror its bloom in the bright wave below. 
 
 A health to sweet woman! the days are no more 
 When she watched for her lord till the revel was o'er J 
 And smoothed the white piliow. and blushed when 
 
 he came, 
 As she pressed her cold lips on his forehead of flame. 
 
 Alas for the loved one! too spotless and fair 
 The joys of his banquet to chasten and share; 
 Her eye lost its light that his goblet might shine, 
 And the rose of her cheek was dissolved in his wine. 
 
 Joy smiles in the fountain, health flows in the rills, 
 As their ribbons of silver unwind from the hills; 
 They breathe not the mist of the bacchanal's dream, j 
 But the lilies of innocence float on their stream. 
 
 Then a health and a welcome to woman once more! 
 She brings us a passport that laughs at our door; 
 It is written on crimson — its letters are pearls — 
 It is countersigned Nature — so room forthe Girls. 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 PEOPHECY ! 
 
 I thought our olden friendship dead, 
 Or with the long years long since fled; 
 
56 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 Yet a sweet, faint ghost came back 
 Down the long and dizzy track. 
 
 As we met upon the street, 
 And a moment stopped to greet — 
 Making some cool, common speech, 
 Just a moment, each to each; 
 
 Knowing each how wide our ways 
 Led apart from those far days; 
 How other hopes and pains came in, 
 Long and long ago to win 
 
 Thought and soul and heart away 
 From the memories of that day. 
 Yet as there we met and talked, 
 As you turned, and, turning, walked 
 
 Down the street a pace or two, 
 Something cordial, old yet new, 
 Stirred within me sweet and faint, 
 Like a ghostly sweet complaint; 
 
 Something whispered me, and said: 
 U A11 those years so sweet and dead 
 With a blessing shall come back 
 Down their long and dizzy track — 
 
 u Like a friend shall some time say: 
 "I am with you, though far away, 
 And the love you thought so slight 
 And so poor a thing, shall light 
 
 " 'All your life unto the end.' 
 Thus my long-forgotten friend, 
 Or his soul, spoke unto me 
 In these words of prophecy. 
 
 Appleton's. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 57 
 
 LOST LOVE. 
 
 could this heart of mine forget 
 That we, my Jove, had ever met, 
 
 That love had ever been: 
 To long for thee, yet know thou art 
 Another's bride; to love in heart, 
 
 And know't to be a sin? 
 
 could this heart, with anguish torn, 
 Forget to grieve, forget to mourn, 
 
 To vainly hope for thee; 
 If sorrow, though 't my heart did rend, 
 Could comforting oblivion lend, 
 
 How welcome it would be! 
 
 fickle one, although thou art 
 The once-loved darliug of my heart, 
 
 Would I had loved thee less; 
 For thy fair face will haunt me till 
 My throbbing heart in death is still, 
 
 And life cease to distress. 
 
 1 loved thee then, I love thee now, 
 Though tears at thoughts of it will flow, 
 
 That thou return'st it not; 
 I will not ask thee to return 
 The love that taught my soul to spurn 
 
 A higher, better thought. 
 
 So fare thee well; think not of me 
 When I am parted far from thee, 
 
 And ne'er to meet again: 
 I would not that thy lot were mine, 
 Though joy thy heart-strings did entwine, 
 
 And memory was slain. 
 
 Mineral Point, Wis. L. A. Osborne. 
 
58 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 parting! 
 
 With a swelling breast and a tear-moist eye, 
 I come to say the last good-bye — 
 That word so cruel for friends to say. 
 The time has come, I must obey, 
 
 And say, Farewell, in parting. 
 As I turn away from your welcome door, 
 With a last fond look at one who o'er 
 My life has cast a halo of love, 
 To cheer my way as a sunbeam above, 
 
 I grieve the more at our parting. 
 
 With unwilling steps I wend my way; 
 My heart in its love yet bids me stay, 
 To share my lot with one whom Fate 
 Has kindly kept for me so late: 
 
 How it adds to the pangs of parting! 
 When far away in the sunny clime, 
 Will Memory wing me back to the time 
 When first my hope for the one of my heart 
 Should enter there, no more to part — 
 
 No more after this sad parting. 
 
 Think of me, then, alone in the gloom 
 Of a long separation, whose love in its bloom, 
 Like the rose in its pure and fragrant scent, 
 Shall linger about you in fullest extent, 
 Longing to end this parting. 
 
 Chicago, 111., Oct. 22, 1877. G. H. W. 
 
 GONE AWAY. 
 
 Oh, dear one, gone so far awav 
 
 That never, when your name I call, 
 
 You answer me — come back to-day, 
 There's sorrow over all! 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 59 
 
 I wander through the silent rooms — 
 And see the books you often read; 
 
 I found a rose whose sweet perfume 
 Kept whispering, She is Dead! 
 
 I found the song you sang me last; 
 
 It lay upon the silent keys, 
 From which, in the remembered past, 
 
 You woke sweet melodies. 
 "Love never will forget!" you sang 
 
 That last, last time you sang for me; 
 I listened, love! your sweet voice rang 
 
 Again through memory. 
 
 I think that heaven is most to those 
 
 Who love most ere they go away 
 From earthly life, to the repose 
 
 Of God's eternal day. 
 Then what must heaven be, dear, to you, 
 
 Who loved so truly and so well? 
 God's peace be with your heart so true, 
 
 And rest eternal with you dwell. 
 
 Eben E. Rexford. 
 
 SPRING TIME. 
 
 In the aisles of the orchard fair blossoms are drifting, 
 
 The white petals fall one by one; 
 And the tulip's pale stalk from the garden is lifting 
 
 A goblet of gems to the sun. 
 
 Come, ramble awhile through this exquisite weather 
 
 Of days that are fleet to pass, 
 When the stem of the willow shoots out a green 
 feather, 
 
 And buttercups burn in the grass. 
 
60 FRIEXDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 When pushing the soil from her bonny pink 
 shoulders, 
 The clover glides forth to the world, 
 And the fresh mosses cling to the gray, rugged 
 boulders, 
 With delicate May-dew impearled. 
 
 The brook in the pastures has hidden its pebbles, 
 
 Full flooded with April rain, 
 And listen, my love, to the silvery trebles, 
 
 That ring from the blossoming lane. 
 
 What vows to their sweet-hearts the gay robins 
 utter! 
 No marvel such wooers are heard; 
 Heigh-ho! how the bosoms that scorn us would, 
 flutter, 
 If man could make love like a bird! 
 
 C.E.N. 1878. 
 
 MY OLD SUIT-EAT. 
 
 Spring with its promise has vanished. 
 
 And summer suns are no more; 
 For here lies my Sun-Hat, faded, 
 
 And thrown idly on the floor. 
 
 At first 'twas a thing of beauty, 
 With muslin and ribbons bright; 
 
 But, after long months of duty, 
 It's now but a sorry sight. 
 
 I look it thoughtfully over, 
 With feelings of vague regret; 
 
 For memories round it hover 
 That I never can forget. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 61 
 
 I've worn it in wood and meadow, 
 In garden, and field, and plain; 
 
 It's been out in sun and shadow, 
 In storm, in wind, and in rain. 
 
 And once I sailed on the river, 
 
 When love's tender vows, and all that, 
 
 Were whispered low by a lover 
 To a maid in this old Sun-Hat. 
 
 Here are the Hat, and the wearer — 
 
 The river still flows on its way; 
 But, alas! the vows and the lover 
 Were the dreams of a Summer-day. 
 
 Ah! this Hat could tell a story 
 If the gift of speech were sent; 
 
 For romance would lend its glory, 
 Give it language eloquent. 
 
 But, while I thus muse and ponder, 
 
 A foreboding fills my heart 
 That these happy days are over, 
 
 And my hat and I must part. 
 
 I take it up to the garret, 
 
 Where dust and shadows hold sway; 
 And there, in the darkness and quiet, 
 
 I put it sadly away. 
 
 Its faithful service is ended, 
 Its duties for me are all done, 
 
 And we will wait together 
 
 The return of the Summer-sun. 
 
 F. F. G. 
 
62 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 BOYHOOD'S JOYS. 
 
 I sit musing — day is gloaming, 
 
 Sol sheds his latest rays — 
 While my memory, backward roaming 
 
 To the scenes of youthful days, 
 Calls up all the joys and pleasures 
 
 Known by me, though fleeting fast, 
 Bringing forth the long-hid treasures 
 
 From that casket deep, the Past. 
 In the early days of childhood, 
 
 Oft I'd hunt, with eager zest, 
 For some low tree in the wildwood, 
 
 Where some bird had built her nest; 
 Finding she some eggs were hatching, 
 
 Think to take the chicks when grown, 
 But, though each day sharply watching, 
 
 Come and find the birds all flown. 
 Oft, too, in the arbor, sitting 
 
 'Neath the leaves, was it my w T ont 
 There to w^atch the brisk bees flitting 
 
 'Mong the flow T ers, their honey-haunt, 
 Till, w T ith prying eyes, I'd follow T , 
 
 Where they stored their gathered gains, 
 Deep in some old dead-tree hollow T , 
 
 And get w T ell stung for my pains. 
 Then, too, many a time I've wended, 
 
 With birch-branch pole, line, and hook, 
 Through the wilds, to w T here descended 
 
 Some swift-running mountain-brook; 
 There, my hook oft freshly baiting, 
 
 Till night's dark'ning shades did come, 
 Would I patiently sit waiting — 
 
 Then go empty-handed home. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 63 
 
 Thus did pass the sunny leisure 
 
 Of a happy-hearted boy; 
 In such scenes of simple pleasure 
 
 Found he vast unspoken joy. 
 But why should I sit and ponder 
 
 On those cheerful times of yore? 
 Why should Memory, yearning, wander 
 
 To Youth's days? They come no more! 
 
 Malcolm Taylor. 
 
 DINNA FRET. 
 
 Dinna fret, for tho' anither, 
 Owns a wee bit mair than you, 
 Fortune's wheel is ever turning — 
 You may win a fortune too. 
 Oft you think o' wealth your portion 
 Is indeed the sma'est share, 
 But in truth I daurna promise, 
 You'd be happier wi' mair. 
 
 Dinna wish yoursel' anither, 
 Some are wealthy, ithers puir, 
 Ilk ane has his ills for a' that, 
 Nane from trouble are secure. 
 And the anes you maistly covet, 
 For their gowd or for their power, 
 Would, na doot, gie their possessions 
 For just ane contented hour. 
 
 Bide a wee and dinna weary, 
 Wishes vain will pleasures mar, 
 Never yet was onybody 
 Badly off but micht be waur. 
 
 Kittie Cuthbertson. 1878. 
 
64 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 IS IT DESTINY? 
 
 Often as I sir thinking, pondering 
 
 O'er the days that are long since past. 
 I gravely ask myself the question, 
 
 What has so changed inv life at last": 
 To be sure. I am older now, than I was 
 
 Years agone — I've nearly turned my page. 
 But do such changes come over all 
 
 With the appearance of ripe old age? 
 
 Years ago, this world had manv charms for me, 
 
 And many friends, and scenes and pains 
 I scarce would deign to think of now. 
 
 And whence has come the chancre": 
 I look upon the merrv youth of to-day. 
 
 And backward turn mv thoughts — in tears. 
 Full three score years and more a^o. 
 
 When I was free and young in years. 
 
 Oh, Time! in your relentless flight, turnback. 
 
 Give us once again our youthful days, 
 I care not for how short a time. 
 But. methinks. we would live our lives in 
 
 different ways. 
 "There's a divinity that shapes our ends. 
 
 Rough-hew them as we mav. ? ' and this 
 I ask an answer for — what does 
 
 So change our life of joy and bliss": 
 
 A. L. 1ST7. 
 
 ONLY A WORD. 
 
 A frivolous word, a sharp retort. 
 
 A parting in angry haste. 
 The sun that rose on a bower of bliss, 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 65 
 
 The loving look and the tender kiss, 
 
 Has set on a barren waste, 
 Where pilgrims tread with w T eary feet 
 Paths destined never more to meet. 
 
 A frivolous word, a sharp retort, 
 
 A moment that blots out years; 
 Two lives are wrecked on a stormy shore 
 Where billows of passion surge and roar 
 
 To break in a spray of tears — 
 Tears shed to blind the severed pair, 
 Drifting seaward, and drowning there. 
 
 A frivolous word, a sharp retort, 
 
 A flash from a passing cloud; 
 Two hearts are scathed to their inmost core, 
 Are ashes and dust for ever more; 
 
 Two faces turn to the crowd, 
 Masked by pride with a life-long lie 
 To hide the scars of that agony. 
 
 A frivolous word, a sharp retort, 
 
 An arrow at random sped, 
 It has cut in twain the mystic tie 
 That had bound two souls in harmony. 
 
 Sweet love lies bleeding or dead, 
 A poisoned shaft with scarce an aim, 
 Has done a mischief sad as shame. 
 
 A frivolous word, a sharp retort, 
 
 Alas! for the loves and lives 
 So little a cause has rent apart, 
 Tearing the fondest heart from heart 
 
 As the whirlwind rends and rives, 
 Never to reunite again, 
 But live and die in secret pain. 
 
66 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 A frivolous word, a sharp retort, 
 
 Alas! that it should be so — 
 The petulant speech, the careless tongue. 
 Have wrought more evil and more wrong, 
 
 Have brought to the world more woe 
 Than all the armies age to age 
 Record on histry's blood-stained page. 
 
 THEN, AS NOW. 
 
 Then, as now, the woodlands were reddening 
 
 As the blast of Autumn blew; 
 Then, as now, the chestnuts were dropping, 
 
 And rustling the dead leaves through. 
 Then, as now, when we drove together 
 
 O'er the stony Mar viand road, 
 While the love in our wildly beating hearts 
 
 Like the tints of the woodlands glowed. 
 
 There over the stubbles still swiftly 
 
 The partridge goes skurrying free, 
 And. as then, I hear from the pine grove 
 
 Beautiful songs from out a tree. 
 Each sight and each sound recalls sadly 
 
 That happy, but sad. sweet hour; 
 For our talk was of parting, as well as love — 
 
 Of a passion beyond our power. 
 
 There brawls the shallow streamlet 
 
 Below the murmuring mill, 
 Where we paused in the middle, and listened, 
 
 As our thirstv steed stood still. 
 And she said she cared not if the brooklet 
 
 Should become a wild torrent-wave, 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 67 
 
 So that, folded fast in a last embrace, 
 We should find in its depths one grave. 
 
 For circumstances drew the barrier 
 
 Of varying fortunes and ends, 
 And ever the gulf was widening 
 
 That parted us, leaving us — friends. 
 And we parted — as all in honor — 
 
 With one last pure kiss in the dells. 
 Ah! I wonder if she remembers it, 
 
 In the palace where in she dwells? 
 
 For there, with her lord, she queens it 
 
 With a regal grace, they say, 
 Perhaps 'tis a gilded lie she acts, 
 
 To cheat the past away. 
 No matter: to me it ever comes back 
 
 When the woodlands are golden and red; 
 
 Though it comes with a moaning and sad unrest, 
 
 Like the ghost of a love that is dead- 
 Nathan D. Urner. 
 
 APPEARANCES ARE DECEIVING. 
 
 Appearances are deceiving, sometimes, 
 To my sorrow have I found them so; 
 Once I loved, or thought I did, 
 But 'twas naught but a dart from Cupid's bow, 
 For appearances were deceiving. 
 
 I have her picture yet, 
 
 By nature designed to charm; 
 
 A bright-eyed, fair-haired, laughing girl, 
 
 Although she intended no harm, 
 
 Her appearance was deceiving. 
 
68 FRIEXDSHIFS ALBUM. 
 
 When first we met, I'll not say where, 
 ? Twas the nineteenth of November; 
 We were arranged in couples adown the hall — 
 Ah! well do 1 remember 
 
 How deceiving her appearance. 
 
 I grew to love her, after a while, 
 
 Or supposed I did, it amounts to the same — 
 
 She was very kind to me, 
 
 Of course to her I could attach no blame 
 
 If her appearances were deceiving. 
 
 And when my thoughts go over the past, 
 Coming down to the present date; 
 I would not care to live again 
 Another life, in which savs Fate 
 
 Appearances are deceiving. 
 
 One picture I have which I hold most dear, 
 It is stored, from the gaze of the rude and 
 
 curious, away; 
 Though the giver can never be aught to me, 
 If she was once bright, loving and gay 
 
 Her appearance was deceiving. 
 
 Now my battle with life is nearly done; 
 I am aged, and wrinkled, and gray, 
 Oh, I wonder if those that follow my path 
 And travel the same old way, 
 
 Will find appearances as deceiving. 
 
 H. D. 1874. 
 
 NINA and MINA. 
 
 The hardest thing for a man to do 
 Is to make up his mind in a hurry. 
 
FRIENDSHIP' S ALBUM. 69 
 
 When two of the dearest, sweetest girls 
 Are setting his heart in a flurry. 
 
 One maiden has eyes of the softest blue, 
 
 And tresses of gold; this is Nina. 
 The other has orbs like the raven's wing, 
 
 And purple black hair; this is Mina. 
 
 That both of the darlings are sweet on me, 
 And think me a "catch" is certain; 
 
 Well, good-looking fellows can't help this thing, 
 And I'm — Hem! — let us draw the curtain. 
 
 I will make up my mind before the dawn; 
 
 But, meanwhile, let me light my "taper," 
 And read up the gossipy fashion news 
 
 In this fres'h "Society Paper." 
 
 "Mrs. B — has moved to her new town house." 
 "Fred. Jenks was married last Monday, 
 
 "To sweet Nina Blossom." The deuce he was! 
 I'll marry the other next Sunday. 
 
 "The Blinks are now all in the citv." Who cares? 
 
 "Mina Ruby's engaged to Ned Briskit. 
 A real love match." Zounds! I thought all the 
 time 
 
 She was dying for me. Fool to risk it. 
 
 Mrs. M. A. Kidder. 
 
 MEMENTOES of the PAST. 
 
 A watch chain made from "Dixie's" hair, 
 A broken ring with jeweled set; 
 But for all of these, what do I care? 
 She's gone forever, and her I will forget. 
 
70 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 A faded rose I prized so dear — 
 
 And of letters — even now, that are eagerly 
 
 sought, 
 Some of them are stained with many tears, 
 And for gold, could not be bought. 
 
 Down in a deep corner of a chest 
 
 That I have always had, 
 
 There are some odd things, and among the rest 
 
 Is one package that I've always said 
 
 I never could dispense with. 
 But as the many years roll on, 
 Silver threads show life is not a myth — 
 As the battle is nearly won. 
 
 There was a time I thought her fair, 
 But how life's scenes have changed; 
 While I, with the rough world did bear, 
 She, her marriage arranged. 
 
 But I was not the favored one, 
 While since, I see 'twas all for the best; 
 I thought 'twas cruel to beleft alone — 
 No matter about the rest. 
 
 She was married years ago, and 
 Since then, I scarce have seen her face to face; 
 For, though she once promised me her hand, 
 It now another's home doth grace. 
 
 4 
 
 Perhaps 'tis best, that in this world, my 
 Roses are not without thorns, and, as of old, 
 The brightest flowers will fade and die, 
 And feelings that were friendly grow cold. 
 
 W. M. E. Sept. 2. 1877. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALB UM. 7 1 
 
 LOVE and AGE. 
 
 I played with you 'mid cowslips growing, 
 
 When I was six and you were four; 
 When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing, 
 
 Were pleasures soon to please no more. 
 Thro' groves and meads, o'er grass and heather, 
 
 With little play mates, to and fro, 
 We wandered hand in hand together; 
 
 But that was sixty years ago. 
 
 You grew a lovely roseate maiden, 
 
 And still our early love was strong; 
 Still with no care our days w^ere laden, 
 
 They glided joyously along; 
 And I did love you very dearly— 
 
 How dearly, words w r ant power to show; 
 I thought your heart was touched as nearly; 
 
 But that was fifty years ago. 
 
 Then other lovers came around you, 
 
 Your beauty grew from year to year, 
 xlnd many a splendid circle found you 
 
 The centre of its glittering sphere. 
 I saw you then, first vows forsaking, 
 
 On rank and wealth your hand bestow; 
 Oh, then I thought my heart was breaking; 
 
 But that was forty years ago. 
 
 And I lived on to wed another; 
 
 No cause she gave me to repine; 
 And when I heard you was a mother, 
 
 I did not w T ish the children mine. 
 My own young flock, in fair progression, 
 
 Made up a pleasant Christmas row; 
 My joy in them was past expression; 
 
 But that was thirty years ago. 
 
72 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 You grew a matron, pJump and comely, 
 
 You dwelt in fashions brightest blaze; 
 My earthly lot was far more homely, 
 
 But I, too, had my festal days; 
 No merrier eyes have ever glistened 
 
 Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow, 
 Than when my youngest child was christened; 
 
 But that was twenty years ago. 
 
 Time passed. My eldest girl was married, 
 
 And now I am a grandsire gray; 
 One pet of four years old I've carried 
 
 Among the w T ild-flowered meads to play, 
 In our old field of childish pleasure, 
 
 Where now, as then, the cowslips blow, 
 She fills her basket's ample measure— 
 
 And this is not ten years ago. 
 
 But though first love's impassioned blindness 
 
 Has passed away in colder light, 
 I still have thought of you with kindness, 
 
 And so shall do till our last good-night. 
 The ever rolling silent hours 
 
 Will bring a time we shall not know, 
 When our young days of gathering flowers 
 
 Will be an hundred years ago. 
 
 DO NOT SING THAT SONG AGAIN. 
 
 Do not sing that song again 
 For it fills my heart with pain; 
 I am bending to the blast, 
 And it tells me of the past, — 
 In the long, long ago, 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 73 
 
 When my days were young and fair, 
 And my heart as light as air; 
 When one feeling filled the breast, 
 And one image gave it rest, 
 In the long, long ago. 
 
 Do not sing that song again; 
 I have lived my years in vain, 
 And my hair is thin and gray, 
 And I'm passing fast away; 
 On the dark and downward streams 
 I'm a wreck of idle dreams; 
 And it puts me on the rack 
 At the weary looking back, — 
 At the ebb and at the flow, 
 In the long, long ago. 
 
 Do not sing that song again; 
 There's a tear in its refrain; 
 It brings sadly back the time 
 When my manhood felt its prime; 
 Warmer, closer, fonder grew 
 In the hour of friendship's proof, 
 When the false ones stood aloof, 
 And their friendship was but show, 
 In the long, long ago. 
 
 Do not sing that song again; 
 It distracts my weary brain. 
 Ah, too well, alas! I know 
 It is time for me to go, 
 And to leave to younger eyes 
 The mild mystery of the skies, 
 And this mighty world we tread, 
 And the grander age ahead. 
 
74 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 There's a mist upon the river, 
 
 And there's bleakness on the shore; 
 
 And in dreams I pass forever, 
 While sad music wafts me o'er. 
 
 Hugh F. M'Dermott. 
 
 Lines on the Wedding Cake of G. and M. 
 
 Let me see, how long has it been? 
 
 Nine years ago to-night; 
 
 How fast time flies — 
 
 But I still keep my friends in sight. 
 
 As I was looking through the relics, friends; — 
 Oh, friends of by -gone years — 
 I brought forth a box, yellow with age, 
 Still bearing the marks of tears. 
 
 Tears of gladness, that I shed for you, my friends, 
 Upon your pleasant wedding eve; 
 And, although you begged me to do likewise, 
 I thought my present life too good to leave. 
 
 This little box, so yellow with age 
 
 Contained part of what was once your wedding 
 
 cake; 
 And I have treasured it carefully, tenderly, 
 For our old friendship's sake. 
 
 For we were friends together, 
 In the days that are long past, 
 And as such we have continued, 
 And so will do until the last. 
 
 Our paths, old friends, have lain apart 
 Since that memorial night; 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 75 
 
 But thoughts of you will e'er be near, 
 And nerve my arm for right. 
 
 One by one the old friends have gone, 
 Till verv few are left; 
 
 Each succeeding year but narrows the circle 
 Soon, of all, I am bereft. 
 
 Sometimes, my friends, I am lonesome, 
 
 And I weary with this life, 
 
 Do you suppose the close of the coming nine 
 
 years 
 Will bring to me a wife? 
 
 IX H. Dec. 14. 1877. 
 
 ASHES OF EOSES. 
 
 1 looked about on the world one day, 
 
 "I will not love," I said, 
 And hid my heart by itself away, 
 As if the thing were dead. 
 
 And there it lay through night and day. 
 
 Moaning to be fed. 
 
 I saw that love was kin to woe, 
 
 But did not understand 
 That deepest joy a life can know, 
 
 Love holdeth in its hand. 
 Alike a foe to joy and woe, 
 
 I journeyed through the land. 
 
 By shunning storm I left the sun, 
 My world was dim and gray; 
 
 No flash of light or shade begun 
 Made change of night or day; 
 
76 FRIEXDSHIP'S ALBUM. ' 
 
 And the life of one without storm or sun 
 Is well-nigh thrown away. 
 
 My heart grew small as the years passed by. 
 
 What starved thing shrivels not? 
 My soul for lack of its own grew dry, 
 
 And hurt its dwelling spot. 
 I chose a lie, and the truth went by; 
 
 This is the end, I wot. 
 
 To-night I willed that my soul should speak, 
 
 And found my soul was still. 
 I asked my heart, but my heart was w^eak, 
 
 And heeded not my will. 
 My past I seek. Yes, that will speak; 
 
 I would the thing were still. 
 
 "Love is the cross," it chantethaway, 
 a But Love is the crown beside. 
 
 Life is meant for both night and day; 
 Let neither be denied. 
 
 In shroud of gray you have laid away, 
 And might as w x ell have died." 
 
 R. W. Easterbrooks. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING. 
 
 As I sit alone in the twilight, 
 
 In the hush of the sad world-strife, 
 1 Let me turn with the hand of friendship 
 The leaves of your book of life. 
 I will turn them carefully, tenderly, 
 
 Breathing only kind words for you; 
 And I'll leave on each page a prayer 
 That your heart can only review. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 77 
 
 Now 'tis the leaves of the Past which I'm 
 turning, 
 
 And much that is pure and fair 
 Floats up from its pages like incense, 
 
 And the record of many a prayer 
 Still speaks from their pure white margins, 
 
 And I hear them murmured low, 
 As they fell from the lips that blessed you, 
 
 In the "beautiful long ago." 
 
 At the leaves of the Present I falter, 
 
 And would hide them away from my sight, 
 For they mock, with their lines of crimson, 
 
 The Past's pure pages of white. 
 And I look in vain for the prayer tokens — 
 
 Not one on the crimson remains; 
 But you know, for your true heart tells you, 
 
 There are prayers just the same. 
 
 Ah, I can not look at the pages 
 
 Which the Future holds folded so tight, 
 For only their outer edges 
 
 Can gleam on my wondering sight! 
 But some of those are crimson, 
 
 And some are pearly white, 
 But the most have gleamings of purest gold 
 
 The gloom of the dark ones to light. 
 
 And heart prayers will still go upward 
 
 From off those pages of snow. 
 Though the lips which first prayed for you 
 mouldered 
 
 In the darkness long ago. 
 Those pages will meet your vision, 
 
 Which are hidden away from my own; 
 
78 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Yours is the task to turn each day 
 One leaf of your Future alone. 
 
 Maude Edgerton. 
 
 THE SPECTRAL SKATER. 
 
 Still it is told, when the moon shines bright 
 
 On the frozen glare of the lonely lake, 
 And the steel of the skater, swift and light, 
 
 From its crystal bosom the echoes wake — - 
 Still it is told of the hapless one 
 
 Who skated away in the night, and was lost; 
 And the weaklier ever the dark spot shun, 
 
 That is haunted, they say, by a restless 
 ghost. 
 
 It was many and many a year ago, 
 
 That the daughter bright of Harold Adair 
 Fled from his roof with his hated foe, 
 
 And left him alone in bleak despair. 
 He marked the track of their sleigh on the lake, 
 
 He buckled his skates on his nimble feet, 
 "The wicked ones I shall overtake,'* 
 
 He muttered low. "Revenge is fleet" 
 
 "Beware of the storm!" the neighbors cried, 
 
 As they watched the curves of his stately 
 form. 
 "Revenge and justice!" Harold replied, 
 
 And he vanished away in the rising storm. 
 Afar in the tempest they saw him flit, 
 
 And then the ice, with a hollow roar, 
 Torn by the heaving waters, split, 
 
 And Harold Adair was seen no more. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 79 
 
 But still, when, over the frozen lake, 
 
 The moon in her midnight splendor rides, 
 Afar on the ice, with noiseless stroke, 
 
 The form of the Spectral Skater glides. 
 Its long black cloak is such a one 
 
 As the hapless Harold is known to have 
 worn, 
 And at times, before its course is run, 
 
 A hollow laugh on the wind is borne. 
 
 Nathan D. Urner. 
 
 CALIFORNIA! 
 
 u Oh! California," land of gold and toil: 
 How many forms have sought thy fatal soil! 
 How many hearts, with human hopes once 
 
 fraught, 
 Lie in the grave thy glittering dross has bought! 
 How many a widow prays in anguish wild! 
 How many a parent mourns the distant child! 
 How many a maiden in her sorrow weeps 
 To know her lover on thy bosom sleeps! 
 No tear to fall above his place of rest: 
 No friend to plant memorials o'er his breast; 
 But cold within a foreign bed he lies, 
 And gold no more can tempt the unclosed eyes: 
 
 Though 'round his grave it winds, with magic art 
 Its winning veins to shroud his pulseless heart; 
 The hand lies powerless, earthly hopes are o'er 
 In that cold form on California's shore. 
 Oh! w r hen the feverish dream of life shall end, 
 Can wealth give solace as a faithful friend? 
 Point the pure way to realms of peace above, 
 
80 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 And be a passport to the God of love? 
 Ah! no, but some can say, (we well may ween,) 
 Like her we read of, England's by-gone Queen, 
 When on the verge of death's dark, chilling clime, 
 "Millions of money for an inch of time!" 
 
 Maggie L. Rutenbur. 1859. 
 
 THE JOY OP VANISHED YEARS. 
 
 When childhood's golden days have flown, 
 
 And troubles thick and fast 
 Envelope like a murky cloud 
 
 The glories of the past, 
 Our hearts will turn with many a sigh, 
 
 With many a gush of tears, 
 To hours of budding youthful joy, 
 
 Bright joy of vanished years. 
 
 When age with slowly palsying power, 
 Shows us the circling gloom 
 
 That gathers like the folds of night 
 Around the awful tomb, 
 
 Back to our hearts the mantling blood 
 Comes, and a thousand fears 
 
 Are mingled with remembrance dear — 
 The joy of vanished years. 
 
 And man unsatisfied at last 
 
 Dies wretched at his lot, 
 He only thinks upon the past, 
 
 To-day to him is not; 
 Oh! let us keep to-day in view, 
 
 Though filled with doubts and fears, 
 'Tis better far than weeping o'er 
 
 The joy of vanished years. 
 
 J. M. Thompson. 1859. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 81 
 
 GRIEF!"" 
 
 Over the ivory keys, 
 To and fro, her white hands go, 
 
 As over bloom -laden trees 
 
 The wand'ring touch of the breeze 
 Wakes music soft and low. 
 
 Flash! radiant fingers of light; 
 Silver the gloom of the shadowed room; 
 
 Sweep with your gleaming tips 
 
 Over the white frozen lips, 
 Till they speak from their tomb. 
 
 Smite! smite the white lips of song, 
 Break on the keys like stormy seas; 
 
 Be the flashing spray-notes flung 
 
 Like cries from anguish wrung — 
 Anguish that knows no peace. 
 
 soul of grief! fold hands and cease; 
 No stormy song can drown thy wrong, 
 
 No murm'ring music whisper peace; 
 
 Grief such as thine must find release 
 In silence, not in song. 
 
 F.A.Hillard. 
 
 ONLY A WOMAN'S HEART. 
 
 Only a woman's heart, whereon 
 
 You have trod in your careless haste- 
 A thing at best that was easy won! 
 
 What matter how dreary a waste 
 Her life may be in future years? 
 
 What matters it — do not start, 
 It is only the sound of dropping tears 
 
 Wrung out of a breaking heart. 
 
82 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 It has lost its worth, for it cost you naught 
 
 But a honeyed word and a smile; 
 Was the fault not hers if she may have thought 
 
 You were truer than truth the while? 
 What if the weeds of a life-long woe, 
 
 From its crushed shrine may upstart? 
 It lies at your feet in the dust so low, 
 
 And 'tis only a woman's heart. 
 
 Only a heart to be thrown away, 
 
 With the recklessness that a boy 
 Who, careless of pleasure and weary of play, 
 
 Would throw down a broken toy. 
 The world is fair and the world is wide, 
 
 And there are more in its busv mart, 
 Throw conscience aside and nurse your pride, 
 
 It is only a woman's heart. 
 
 Aye, powerless e'en is your boasted will 
 
 To vanquish the ghost of sin! 
 Thus did it speak — thus speaks it still, 
 
 Through the voice of your soul within; 
 u In the drama of one life you know 
 
 You have acted a villain's part; 
 For you struck a hard and cruel blow, 
 
 And it fell on a loving heart." 
 
 Only a woman's heart! Ah, well! 
 
 Dare you say it is naught to you 
 Whether that heart was false, now tell, 
 
 Or as Heaven itself as true? 
 You may hug the thought to your selfish breast, 
 
 That you are skilled in deception's art, 
 But I brand you thief for the peace and rest 
 
 That you stole from a woman's heart. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 83 
 
 • DYING. 
 
 Let me lie upon your breast, 
 
 Lift me up, and let me twine 
 'Round your neck my arms, and rest 
 
 With your cheek laid close to mine, 
 Kiss me, kiss me tenderly; 
 
 I am dying now, you know, 
 Though you feel no love for me, 
 
 Clasp me, kiss me, ere I go. 
 I have lingered many years, 
 
 For a moment, love, like this, 
 Oh! my darling! let no tears 
 
 Mar this drop of earthly bliss; 
 Do not weep because you know 
 
 I am dropping off to rest; 
 I am very glad to go, 
 
 Life was wearisome at best. 
 I have loved you, oh, so long, 
 
 Seeing, knowing, in my brain, 
 That my love was wild and wrong, 
 
 Unrequited, hopeless, vain; 
 Was it weak, unwomanly, 
 
 Thus to shrine you in my heart? 
 Oh! I struggled frantically — 
 
 Bade your image to depart. 
 There are hearts that love w T ill pierce, 
 
 Then depart and die at will; 
 Such as mine burns long and fierce, 
 
 Till the heart is cold and still, 
 Dropping, sinking off to rest, 
 
 Fearing naught of pain or strife; 
 Kiss me — clasp me to your breast, 
 
 This is all I ask of life. 
 
 Ella Wheeler. 
 
84 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 MEMORY'S GARDEN. 
 
 Back on its golden hinges 
 
 The gate of Memory swings; 
 And my heart goes into the garden, 
 
 And walks with the olden things, 
 The old-time joys and pleasures, 
 
 The loves that it used to know, 
 It meets there in the garden, 
 
 And they wander to and fro. 
 It heareth a peal of laughter; 
 
 It seeth a face most fair; 
 It thrills with a wild, strange rapture, 
 
 At the glance of a dark eye there. 
 It strayeth under the sunset, 
 
 In the midst of a merry throng, 
 
 1/ CD ' 
 
 And beats a tuneful measure, 
 To the snatch of a floating song. 
 
 It heareth a strain of music — 
 
 Swell on the dreamy air — 
 A strain that is never sounded, 
 
 Save in the garden there. 
 It wanders among the roses, 
 
 And thrills at a long lost kiss, 
 And glows at the touch of fingers, 
 
 In a tremor of foolish bliss. 
 But all is not fair in the garden — 
 
 There's a sorrowing sob of pain — 
 There are tear drops bitter, scalding, 
 
 And the roses are tempest slain. 
 And I shut the gate of the garden, 
 
 And walk in the Present's ways, 
 For its quiet paths are better 
 
 Than the pain of those vanished days, 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 85 
 
 DEAD IN THE STREET. 
 
 Under the lamplights, dead in the street, 
 
 Delicate, fair, and only twenty, 
 There she lies, 
 Face to the skies, 
 
 Starved to death in a city of plenty. 
 Spurned by all that is pure and sweet, 
 Pass'd by busy and careless feet — 
 Hundreds bent upon folly and pleasure, 
 Hundreds with plenty, and time, and leisure: 
 Leisure to speed Christ's mission below, 
 
 To teach the erring and the lowly — 
 Plenty, in charity's name, to show 
 
 That life has something Divine and holy. 
 
 Boasted charm — classical brow, 
 Delicate features — look at them now, 
 Look at her lips: once they could smile, 
 Eyes — well, never more shall they beguile; 
 
 A blush shall bring to the saintliest face. 
 She has found, let us hope and trust, 
 
 Peace in a higher and better place; 
 And yet, despite of all ill, I ween, 
 Joy of some heart she must have been; 
 Some fond mother proud of the task, 
 
 Has stoop'd to finger each dainty curl; 
 Some vain father has bow'd to ask 
 
 A blessing for her, his darling girl. 
 
 Hard to think, as we look at her there, 
 Of all the tenderness, love, and care, 
 Lonely watching and sore heart-ache, 
 All the agony, burning tears, 
 Joys and sorrows, hopes and fears. 
 
86 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Breathed and suffer' d for her sweet sake, 
 Fancy will picture a home afar, 
 Out where the daisies and buttercups are, 
 Out where the life-giving breezes blow, 
 Far from these sodden streets, foulsome and 
 
 low, 
 Fancy will picture a lonely hearth, 
 And an aged couple dead to mirth — 
 Kneeling beside a bed to pray; 
 
 Or lying awake o' nights to hark 
 For a thing that may come in the rain and dark, 
 A hollow-eyed woman with weary feet. 
 Better they never know 
 She whom they cherished so 
 Lies this night, lone and low, 
 Dead in the street. 
 
 GRACIE and I. J 
 
 Gracie and I were never friends 
 
 After she broke faith with me: 
 She remained in her mother's home 
 Below the cliff by the running foam, 
 
 And I fled over the stormy sea. 
 How I suffered in secret none — 
 
 None but my heart and heaven can know, 
 For neither time or absence mends 
 The heavy hurt which a man's heart rends, 
 
 When his own heart's idol has dealt the blow. 
 
 u See me no more!" was the last she said 
 "You have another love far from shore. 
 
 "It is false!" I cried, indignant and vexed; 
 
 "But take, if you wish it. this vile pretext 
 To cast me off for a wealthier wooer." 
 
 5 ? 
 
 I i ill^Hl 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 87 
 
 And so I turned, in my wrath and pride, 
 
 Nor noticed how sad and white was she — 
 Turned in the throes of my broken heart, 
 To crush all the ties that bound us apart — 
 Turned from her side, and fled over the sea. 
 
 Merrily blew the wind that bore 
 
 The new r s of her marriage across the sea; 
 But it found me prepared, and I only thought, 
 "She has found the wealthy wooer she sought; 
 
 Henceforth she is nothing more to me." 
 But, sadly enough, the next wind bore 
 
 The news of her death across the wave; 
 And then I knew T that my love had not died, 
 That henceforth my heart, in its sinful pride, 
 
 Was buried with her in her lowly grave. 
 
 Gracie and I were both deceived: 
 
 Too late, too late the truth was known, 
 How her mother had forged the scandal lie 
 That wrecked our lives when our hopes beat 
 high, 
 
 And left us to sorrow and suffer — alone. 
 Gracie and I! — 0, bitterly now 
 
 I remember how sad and white was she, 
 As I turn, in the throes of my broken heart, 
 To her lowly grave, here lying apart, 
 
 Below the cliff by the beating sea. 
 
 Nathan D. Urner. 
 
 THE SNOW AT FREDERICKSBURG. 
 
 Drift over the slopes of the sunshine land, 
 
 wonderful, wonderful snow! 
 Oh, pure as the breast of a virgin saint! 
 
88 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 Drift tenderly, soft and slow, 
 Over the slopes of the sunrise land, 
 
 And into those haunted dells 
 Of the forest of pines, where the sobbing winds 
 
 Are tuning their memory bells; — 
 
 Into the forest of sighing pines, 
 
 And over those yellow slopes 
 That seem but the work of the cleaving plough, j 
 
 But cover so many hopes! 
 They are many indeed, and straightly made, j 
 
 Not shapen with lovely care; 
 But the soul let out and the broken blades 
 
 May never be counted here! 
 
 Fall over those lonely hero graves, 
 
 0, delicate-dropping snow! 
 Like the blessing of God's unfaltering love, 
 
 On the warriors' heads below; 
 Like the tender sigh of a mother's soul, 
 
 As she waiteth and watcheth for one 
 Who will never comeback from the sunrise land; 
 
 When this terrible war was done. 
 
 And here, where lieth the high of heart, 
 
 Drift, white as the bridal veil 
 That will never be worn by the drooping girl 
 
 Who sitteth afar so pale; 
 Fall fast as the tears of the suffering wife, 
 
 Who stretcheth despairing hands 
 Out to the blood-rich battle fields 
 
 That crimson the eastern sands. 
 
 Fall in thy virgin tenderness, 
 delicate snow! and cover 
 The graves of our heroes, sanctified, 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 89 
 
 Husband, and son, and lover, 
 Drift tenderly over those yellow slopes, 
 
 And mellow our deep distress, 
 And put us in mind of the shriven souls, 
 
 And their mantles of righteousness. 
 
 ONLY. 
 
 Only a flower that he gave me, 
 
 Only a flower, nothing more, 
 But, I cherish it tenderly, dearly, 
 
 As in the bright days of yore. 
 Only a joy that was fleeting 
 
 Far from my sad heart to rove, 
 Yet memory delights still to ponder 
 
 O'er the spell that its fragrance wove. 
 
 Only a letter that I cherish, 
 
 Guarded with care many years, 
 Though its words, oh how few, yet how tender, 
 
 Are blurred and blotted with tears, 
 Only a promise to love me, 
 
 To love me while love shall last, 
 In dreams I oft hear it repeated 
 
 As my heart goes back to the past. 
 
 Only a vanished presence, 
 
 Only a yearning heart, 
 Only a voiceless longing, 
 
 A longing that will not depart. 
 Only a weary soul waiting, 
 
 Waiting that haven of rest 
 
 Where the union of hearts is eternal, 
 
 And true love forever is blest. 
 
 st. L D. 
 
90 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 IN QUIET DAYS. 
 
 The dying year grows strangely mild: 
 
 Now in the hazy autumn weather 
 My heart is like a happy child, 
 And life and I, friends reconciled, 
 Go over the hills together. 
 
 My peaceful days run sweet and still 
 As waters slipping over sand, 
 
 Seeking the shadows of free will; 
 
 Go gather tenderer lights than fill 
 Day's over-lavish hand. 
 
 The summer wood with music rings, 
 The singer's is a troubled breast; 
 I am no more the bird that sings, 
 But that which broods with folded wings 
 Upon its quiet nest. 
 
 Oh, fairest month of all the year! 
 
 Oh, sweetest days in life! they melt: 
 Within, without, is atumn cheer, 
 September there, September here, 
 
 So tranquil and so sweet. 
 
 Oft have I watched all night with grief, 
 
 All night with joy, which is best? 
 Ah, both were sharp, and both were brief, 
 My heart was like a wind-blown leaf, 
 I give them both for rest. 
 
 Fair Quiet, close to Joy allied, 
 But loving shadier walks to keep, 
 
 By day is ever at my side; 
 
 And all night long with me abide 
 Peace and her sister, Sleep. 
 
 Carl Spencer. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 91 
 
 MEMORY." 
 
 They live again, those happy hours, 
 
 The time of truth and buoyancy; 
 They bloom again, life's withered flowers, 
 
 Revived by magic memory. 
 They live! My buried darlings rise 
 
 From out their long and solemn sleep, 
 And star-like in life's darkened skies 
 
 A gentle radiance ever keep, 
 
 memory, kind memory! 
 
 And when my sands of life are run, 
 
 And here no more my form they see, 
 May I return, at least to one, 
 
 On radiant wings of memory, 
 Back to my unforgotten home, 
 
 Back to one loved and loving heart; 
 If thus I only hope to come, 
 
 E'en now I am ready to depart, 
 
 memory, kind memory! 
 
 Tinsley's 
 
 TIME LONG PAST. 
 
 Like the ghost of a dear friend dead 
 
 Is time long past. 
 A tone which is now forever fled, 
 A hope which is now forever past, 
 A love so sweet it could not Jast, 
 
 Was time long past. 
 
 There were sweet dreams in the night 
 
 Of time long past: 
 And, was it sadness or delight, 
 
92 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Each day a shadow onward cast, 
 Which made us wish it yet might last — 
 That time long past? 
 
 There is regret, almost remorse, 
 
 For time long past; 
 
 'Tis like a child's beloved corse 
 
 A father watches, till at last 
 
 Beauty is like remembrance cast 
 
 From time long past. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 CHANGE, NOT "FATE." 
 
 I said once in a dreamy way, "I love you!" 
 
 Sweet words they seemed at that time — but alas! 
 Time, change, and faithlessness have swept asunder 
 The fleeting dreams we dreamed*. Well let them pass. 
 The present and the future must remain 
 True to themselves, whate'er our joy or pain. 
 
 It is no wonder, while the tides flow onward, 
 
 That wrecks and rubbish congregate, and lie 
 Safe in the hidden nooks, until a freshet 
 Scatters them surely, as the drifts go by. 
 So with some human hearts, their memories go 
 Out and away forever, weal or woe. 
 
 Call it infatuation, call me heartless — 
 
 The last named word perhaps looks strange to you, 
 But do not call it u Fate," for 'twas but waking 
 From death and darkness to the good and true. 
 Change is a leveller that time hangs out 
 To teach all foolish folks what they're about. 
 
 Ruth, The Gleaner. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 93 
 
 VANITY." 
 
 The sun comes up and the sun goes down, 
 And the day and night are the same as one; 
 The year grows green and the year grows brown, 
 And what is it all, when all is done? 
 Grains of somber or shining sand, 
 Sliding into and out of the hand. 
 
 And men go down in ships to the seas, 
 And a hundred ships are the same as one. 
 And backward and forward blows the breeze, 
 And what is it all, when all is done? 
 A tide with never a shore in sight, 
 Setting steadily on to the night. 
 
 The fisherman droppeth his net in the stream, 
 And a hundred streams are the same as one; 
 And a maiden dream eth her love-lit dream, 
 And what is it all, when all is done? 
 The net of the fisher the burden breaks. 
 And after the dreaming the dreamer wakes. 
 
 Alice Carey. 
 
 FADED and DEAD. 
 
 Where are the green leaves, w r here are the flowers, 
 That brightened with beauty the long summer hours. 
 Where are the rainbows, where are the dews, 
 Colors so radiant, gems so profuse, — 
 Faded and dead, Oh! something so sad 
 Breathes in these little words — faded and dead. 
 
 Where are the rosy cheeks, where are the eyes, 
 Blue as that ether vail we call the skies, — 
 Where are the white hands, dimpled and small, 
 
94 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 Once opened warmly in greeting to all, — 
 Where are the glossy curls, where the fair head,— 
 Echo sighs mournfully — faded and dead. 
 
 Where is the rose wreath braided for me, 
 Memory of young life, childhood's bright glee, — 
 Where are the fond hopes, where are the dreams, 
 Gilded with beauty by life's morning beams; 
 'Tis something unseen, yet something just fled, 
 Sends back the whispered words — faded and dead, 
 
 Earth, I am weary of thee and thy gems, 
 Weary of watching the buds and the stems 
 Wither away, and dream, hope, and heart, 
 Tarry a while and forever depart. 
 Fain would I be where no voices fled, 
 Sing to me mournfully — faded and dead. 
 
 Mrs. S. F. Haddock. 
 
 HER LETTERS. 
 
 At last I have burned them, one by one, 
 
 And the precious leaves, which but yesterday 
 With love and passion seemed eloquent, 
 And strength to my soul in its weakness lent, 
 Are now but ashes gray. 
 
 How often above them I pored and pored, 
 
 And kissed with fervor the words thev contained! 
 How often, when hushed from the world apart 
 Those letters close to my beating heart, 
 With quivering hands I strained! 
 
 Oh! false as fair! There was not a term 
 
 In the language of love she failed to use. 
 As if it were dipped in ambrosial streams, 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 95 
 
 Her pen fed with rapture my fondest dreams, 
 As the flowers are fed by the dews. 
 
 "Thine, thine only!" they always breathed; 
 
 "Thine forever!" they sweetly cooed; 
 Till fewer, and cooler, and cold as death 
 They grew, like the subtle and frosty breath 
 That strips the blossoming wood. 
 
 A parent's frown had at last prevailed — 
 
 I could see in the change a sterner hand; 
 But when at last came the bitter blow, 
 That my place was filled, none but she could know 
 How crushed I was — how unmanned. 
 
 And now, as her letters fade away 
 
 In quivering flame and wreathing smoke, 
 What would I not give, if as lightly from me 
 Could flicker and fade the memory 
 
 Of the cheating words they spoke! 
 
 Nathan D. Urner. 
 
 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 I may live long, but some old days 
 
 Of dear, deep joy akin to pain — 
 Some suns that set on woodland ways 
 
 Will never rise for me again; 
 By shining sea, and glad, green shore 
 
 That frolic waves ran home to kiss, 
 Some words I hear that nevermore 
 
 Will thrill me with their mystic bliss. 
 
 love! still throbs your living heart — 
 
 You have not crossed death's sullen tide. 
 A deeper deep holds us apart: 
 
96 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 We were more near if you had died — 
 If you had died in those old days 
 
 When light was on the shining sea, 
 And all the fragrant woodland ways 
 
 Were paths of hope for you and me. 
 
 Dead leaves are in those woodland ways — 
 Cold are the lips that used to kiss: 
 
 'Twere idle to recall those days, 
 Or sigh for all that vanished bliss, 
 
 Do you still wear your old-time grace, 
 And charm new loves with ancient wiles? 
 
 Could I but watch your faithless face, 
 
 I'd know the meaning of your smiles. 
 
 Galaxy. 
 
 Wind of the Winter Night. 
 
 Wind of the winter night! I hear 
 Thy midnight voice, weird, wild and drear, 
 
 Sad, solemn, slow: 
 Hear it without my window pane; — 
 Hear in the soul-arousing strain 
 
 The voice of long ago. 
 
 That hollow voiceful spirit tone, 
 
 An instant heard, then vanished, gone! 
 
 Unlocks the past, 
 And lights of other days that lie 
 Deep in the mist of memory, 
 
 Flash bright and fast! 
 
 Some vivid stream of long ago, 
 
 Of life's first fires, or love's first glow, 
 
 Buried for years 
 In ashes of the past from sight, — 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S AL B UM. 97 
 
 Wakes, at the tone, again to light, 
 And reappears. 
 
 The form, the words of some loved one 
 Once by my side, now parted, gone 
 
 To the realms unseen; 
 Or, haply separated wide 
 By weary leagues of land and tide — 
 
 And years between. 
 
 0, memory sad! 0, memory sweet! 
 How often thus, evoked, I meet 
 
 Again mv lost! 
 My arms are outstretched to embrace, 
 But heart to heart, and face to face, 
 
 Is but the ghost. 
 
 Mysterious life! How little we 
 Know what vou are, or w r hat shall be 
 
 When u dust to dust;" 
 But that dread Power that formed the soul 
 Is wise to order and control; 
 
 There rest, and trust. 
 
 WHY SILENT? 
 
 Why am I silent from year to year? 
 
 Needs must I sing on these blue March days? 
 What will you say, w T hen I tell you here, 
 
 That already, I hold, for a little praise, 
 I have paid too dear! 
 
 So dear, in sooth, that henceforth I think 
 
 I will keep, if I can, my heart locked up, 
 And the world shall see, when I tip the brink, 
 
98 FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 No deeper down that mantling cup 
 Than the bubbles wink. 
 
 But the rich red tide it shall not see; 
 
 And the spells beneath but few shall share; 
 While the jewels that star the bottom shall be 
 
 Not for a world which does not care, 
 But for those w T ho love me! 
 
 For it always seems when 1 tell my thought, 
 As though I had flung it forever awav, 
 
 And the charm wherewith a dream is fraught, 
 When secret, dies with the fleeting day 
 Into which it is wrought. 
 
 So, my butterfly thoughts their golden wings 
 Shall rarely unfurl from their chrysalis; 
 
 Thus I shall retain my loveliest things, 
 
 And the world, in its worldliness, will not miss 
 What a poet sings. 
 
 Henry Timrod. 
 
 FADING. 
 
 The Past is fading, fading, 
 
 Never to come again; 
 The cypress tree is shading 
 
 Half of the sunny plain; 
 
 Unchanged, I wot, is each well-known scene, 
 Not a branch shows new in the hedgerows green. 
 Just so the lark from the meadow sprung 
 When life and I alike were young; 
 Just so the primrose peeped to light 
 When I and April hailed the sight. 
 
 Yet, Nature's self, pervading, 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM, 99 
 
 Is the sense of something gone; 
 The Past is fading, fading, 
 
 And the wheel of Time rolls on. 
 
 The Past is fading, fading, 
 And gather' d in its hold, 
 
 Its mighty pinions lading, 
 Is much we prized of old; 
 
 The grass grows rank over many a grave 
 
 Of the young and joyous and gay and brave. 
 
 Many a well-lov'd voice is hush'd, 
 
 Many a golden hope is crush 'd, 
 
 Many a happy dream is over, 
 
 With smile of kindred, friend and lover. 
 
 The Past is fading, fading, 
 The blood runs cold and slow; 
 
 Harsh wisdom is degrading 
 The creeds of long ago. 
 
 The Past is fading, fading: 
 We cling and pray in vain 
 
 Where the cypress tree is shading 
 The tombs of all the slain. 
 
 Slain by the years and put aside, 
 
 The darlings of love, the idols of pride. 
 
 One by one the frail links part, 
 
 Hand drops from hand and heart from heart; 
 
 One by one the sweet things given 
 
 To brighten Earth go back to heaven, 
 
 Till love and life, pervading, 
 
 Sigh the sense of something gone, 
 
 And the Past is fading, fading, 
 And the wheel of time rolls on. 
 
 London World. 
 
100 FKIEXDSHIP'S ALBUM. 
 
 LONG AG07 
 
 The "Lone Jack" burns in my pipe to-night 
 
 With a bright and cheery glow, 
 And mv wearied feet are stretched to the fire 
 
 And I dream of long ago. 
 
 I think of the friends who sat with me here 
 
 And smoked, till the fire burned low, 
 As we talked of our ships that were coming in, 
 
 In the days of long ago. 
 
 «/ © © 
 
 They are under the sod, those friends of mine, 
 
 I'd sooner that it w^ere so 
 With me, than to sit here alone by the fire 
 
 Dreaming of long ago. 
 
 © © © 
 
 Of the days when my heart was as stout as my pipe, 
 And my love was as fierce as its glow, 
 
 And my hope was buoyant, and high, and strong; 
 Those days of long ago. 
 
 And the 4 Lone Jack' burns, and the smoke curls up, 
 
 And my fancies come and go 
 
 Like the days, and friends, that have vanished now 
 
 Into the long ago. 
 © © 
 
 Ah, well-a-dav! I have done with it all, 
 
 And I wonder if I could know 
 How to live over those brave old times, 
 
 Those days of long ago. 
 
 Would it be worth while to live through it all? 
 
 I hardly deem it so; 
 
 The time would come to sit, as now, 
 
 'Mid the ashes of long ago. 
 
 © © 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 101 
 
 So to-night I shall die, and my little Lizette 
 
 Is the only mourner I know. 
 There might have been more if I had died 
 
 In the days of long ago. 
 
 D. A. Curtiss. 
 
 The Bachelor's Ungathered Hoses. 
 
 One bright June morn, while wandering out, 
 
 Enjoying Summer's pleasures, 
 I spied a rose-bush, hanging full 
 Of dewy, flowery treasures: 
 fc "Bloom on," I said, "Oh wild-rose, through the day 
 Bloom fair, a joy for all who pass this way; 
 The breeze shall tempt you from your hiding-place, 
 The sun shall tint anew your blushing face; 
 And when the mellow eventide 
 
 Steals on, I'll come, my beauty, 
 And in a lady's fairy bower, 
 You'll soon be doing duty." 
 
 My task, that day, a pleasure seemed; 
 
 For, in my heart, the ringing 
 Of Fancy's bells, in twilight hours, 
 To me, new joys kept bringing: — 
 "Ah! dainty rose," I said, "you little guess 
 In whose white hands you'll lie for soft caress! 
 And I shall wish, that I a rose might be, 
 On Beauty's breast to rest so lovingly!" 
 But homeward turning, soon I found 
 
 How idle was my dreaming; 
 For lo! upon a stranger's vest, 
 
 My sweet, wild-rose was beaming! 
 
102 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Just so, I found, in Youth's glad morn, 
 
 A maiden, sweet and loving; 
 A household rose, of beauty rare; 
 Her life her pure heart proving: — 
 "Ah! sweet, sw T eet lass," I said, "your artless ways 
 Will win more hearts than mine to speak your praise! 
 Your budding charms, unfolding like the rose, 
 Each day new bloom and beauty will disclose; 
 And when I've wealth, and power, and fame, 
 
 I'll claim my peerless maiden; 
 And home's true joys shall cheer our lives, 
 With love's best treasures laden. 
 
 I bore Life's burdens, and its cares, 
 
 Its sowing and its reaping; 
 But whispered oft, as on I toiled, 
 "Her heart is in my keeping!" 
 And in the fulness of my joy, 1 smiled, 
 As thoughts of her the long, slow years beguiled; 
 She kissed me when we said the last "good-by!" 
 In dreams we kissed, as Loves sweet hour drew nigh! 
 But, ah! my fondest hopes proved vain, 
 
 And only dreams were left me! 
 For while I toiled, a stranger's love 
 Of that sweet maid bereft me! 
 
 Louise S. Upham. 
 
 MY HEAET IS LOCKED. 
 
 My heart — no fire upon its hearthstone burns- 
 'Tis covered o'er with dust; 
 
 Nor ever on its hinges turns the door, 
 
 Whose lock is filled with rust. 
 
 Oh, once love's golden key, with jewels set, 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 103 
 
 Unlocked that hidden door; 
 Oh, once upon its hinges wide it turned — 
 'Twill open wide no more! 
 
 No more? no more? Sad words — no more! 
 
 I weep, I murmur o'er and o'er; 
 In anguish, too, I say 
 "Alas! alas! the day- 
 Death stole the key away!" 
 
 The feet of busy years move by; 
 
 Friends come and go — friends live and die; 
 
 But what, oh, what is that to me? 
 
 My heart is lock'd: Death holds the key. 
 
 The changeful seasons come and go — 
 The cold, white winter fill'd with snow% 
 
 And then the merry spring; 
 And so the summer swiftly comes, 
 
 And all the vales do ring 
 
 With songs of birds that sing, 
 Of ev'ry name and ev'ry shade 
 
 Beneath the sun; 
 
 And then the crimson autumn comes, 
 
 And, one by one 
 The birds depart, and winter fills 
 The vales with snow, and all the hills 
 
 It wraps in white — 
 And earth and Heaven together vie 
 To fill the soul with rhapsody; 
 But what, oh, what is that to me? 
 My heart is lock'd: Death holds the key. 
 
 Fred. R. Marvin. 
 
104 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 The Worn-Out Pont Of Type. 
 
 I'm sitting by my desk, Ned, 
 
 Before me on the floor 
 There lies a worn-out font of type, 
 
 Full twenty thousand score: 
 And many months have passed, Ned, 
 
 Since they were bright and new, 
 And many are the tales they've told — 
 
 The false, the strange, the true. 
 
 What tales of horror they have told, 
 
 Of tempest and of wreck; 
 Of murder in the midnight hour, 
 
 Of war full many a "speck!" 
 Of ships that lost away at sea, 
 
 Went down before the blast, 
 Of stifled cries of agony 
 
 As life's last moments passed. 
 
 Of earthquakes and of suicides, 
 
 Of bank defaulters, broken banks, 
 
 And banking systems rotten; 
 
 Of boilers bursting, steamboats snagged, 
 
 Of riots, duels fought; 
 
 Of robbers with their prey escaped, 
 
 Of thieves, their booty caught. 
 
 Of flood, and fire, and accident, 
 
 These worn-out types have told, 
 And how the pestilence has swept 
 
 The youthful and the old; 
 Of marriages, of births and deaths, 
 
 Of things to please or vex us; 
 Of one man's jumping overboard, 
 
 Another gone to Texas. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 105 
 
 They've told us how sweet Summer days 
 
 Have faded from our view; 
 How Autumn's chilling winds have swept 
 
 The leaf-crowned forest through; 
 How Winter's snow hath come and gone,- — 
 
 Dark reign of storm and strife — 
 And how the smiling Spring hath warmed 
 
 The pale flowers back to life. 
 
 I can't pretend to mention half 
 
 My inky friends have told, 
 Since shining bright and beautiful 
 
 They issued from the mold — 
 How unto some they joy have brought, 
 
 To others grief and tears; 
 Yet faithfully the record kept 
 
 Of fast receding years. 
 
 The Maiden's Psalm Of Marriage. 
 
 Tell me not, in idle jingle, 
 
 "Marriage is an empty dream!" 
 For the girl is dead that's single, 
 
 And girls are not what they seem. 
 Life is real! Life is earnest! 
 
 Single-bJessedness a fib! 
 "Man thou art; to man returnest,' 
 
 Has been spoken of the rib. 
 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 
 
 Is our destined end or way; 
 But to act so that to-morrow 
 
 Finds us nearer our marriage day. 
 
 Life is long and youth is fleeting, 
 
 And our hearts, though light and gay, 
 
106 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Still like pleasant drums are beating 
 
 Wedding-marches all the way. 
 In the world's broad field of battle, 
 
 In the bivouac of life, 
 Be not like dumb-driven cattle: 
 
 Be a heroine — a wife! 
 Trust no future, howe'er pleasant — 
 
 Let the dead Past bury its dead; 
 Act! Act in living Present — 
 
 Hearts within and hope ahead. 
 
 Lives of married folks remind us 
 
 We can live our lives as well, 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 
 Such example as shall tell — 
 Such example that another, 
 
 Wasting time in idle sport — 
 A forlorn, unmarried brother — 
 
 Seeing, shall take heart and court. 
 Let us, then, be up and doing, 
 
 With a heart on triumph set, 
 Still contriving, still pursuing, 
 
 And each one a husband get! 
 
 DUM VIVIMUS, VIVAMUS. 
 
 look not, look not, love, before! 
 There all is gloomy, chill, uncertain; 
 And blighted hopes, and anguish sore, 
 Await us 'neath its somber curtain. 
 
 And glance not, love. glance not back! 
 He errs, who doth the Past remember; 
 There lie but tombs, and shadows black, 
 And faded passion's cheerless ember. 
 
FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 107 
 
 No! let us live our fleeting day; 
 Speed we the hours with mirth and laughter; 
 And rioting in joyous play, 
 
 Heed not the Past, nor the Hereafter! 
 
 Mid darkness, light is doubly clear, 
 Joy doubly sweet in midst of sorrow; 
 And all that we to-day hold dear 
 May lie in ashes ere to-morrow. 
 
 Then let us live and love, while yet 
 Our short-lived happiness endureth; 
 Soon, all too soon, will come regret, 
 And pangs that no physician cureth. 
 
 Apple ton's. 
 
 'Tis But A Band Of Ribbon. 
 
 u 'Tis but a band of ribbon," 
 
 He answered with a sigh, 
 "A loved friends parting gift," 
 
 He said with downcast eye, 
 As I saw a folded ribbon 
 
 Over a picture fair, 
 And wondered why it held 
 
 That lock of golden hair. 
 
 " 'Tis but a band of ribbon," 
 
 A little silken string; 
 Why should a sigh be given 
 
 O'er such a tiny thing? 
 Why should a bright eye pale, 
 
 Why should a tear be shed 
 Over that little emblem 
 
 Of some bright moments fled? 
 
108 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Why did that proud man tremble, 
 
 Why did that strong heart bend, 
 At the mention of a name 
 
 He only called a "friend?" 
 What was there in that gift? 
 
 Where was the secret pow r er? 
 Was it but a leaf 
 
 From friendship s faded flower? 
 
 Or that he loved the giver? 
 
 And did that tiny string 
 Remind him of an idol 
 
 Buried in youth's bright spring? 
 Was it a treasured emblem 
 
 Of his loved one, dead and gone? 
 A lingering, last memento 
 
 Of hopes forever flown? 
 
 Was it the very ribbon 
 
 Which held her locks so soft? 
 The self-same little knot 
 
 He'd seen her tie so oft 
 To hold the truant tresses 
 
 He so tenderly caressed, 
 As they floated o'er his bosom 
 
 When heart to heart was pressed? 
 
 Was the band, and knot, and all, 
 
 Just as she fixed them on, 
 In the old familiar days — 
 
 Those days forever gone? 
 Was it the last reminder 
 
 Of a fair and fleeting scene? 
 The only token left him 
 
 Of all that "might have been!" 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. 109 
 
 Was it the "parting gift" 
 
 From her fair and gentle hand, 
 That tried to bind her lover's heart, 
 
 With that silken band? 
 And will that lover keep it, 
 
 With his faith to her who gave 
 It, till his heart, like her's, be pulseless 
 
 In the silence of the grave? 
 
 Sallie B. Goodrich. 
 
 ONLY WAITING. 
 
 [A very aged man in an almshouse was asked what 
 he was doing now. He replied, "Only Waiting."] 
 
 Only waiting till the shadows 
 
 Are a little longer grown; 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 
 Of the day's last beam is flown! 
 'Till the night of earth is faded 
 
 From the heart, once full of dav; 
 'Till the stars of heaven are breaking 
 
 Thro' the twilight soft and gray. 
 
 Only waiting till the reapers 
 
 Have the last sheaf gathered home; 
 For the summer time is faded 
 
 And the autumn winds have come; 
 Quickly, reapers! gather quickly 
 
 The last ripe hours of my heart, 
 For the bloom of life is withered, 
 
 And I hasten to depart. 
 
 Only waiting, till the angels 
 Open wide the mystic gate, 
 
 By whose side I long have lingered, 
 Weary, poor and desolate. 
 
110 FRIENDSHIPS ALBUM. 
 
 Even now I hear their footsteps, 
 And their voices far away; 
 
 If they call me, I am waiting, 
 Only waiting to obey. 
 
 Only waiting till the shadows 
 
 Are a little longer grown; 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 
 Of the day's last beam is flown, 
 Then from out the gathering darkness 
 
 Holy, deathless stars shall rise, 
 By whose light my soul shall gladly 
 
 Tread its pathway to the skies. 
 
 MEMENTO. 
 
 Distance may spread between us, friend, 
 But our hearts unchanged will be, 
 
 And our tongues will be the faithful pen 
 Heard even beyond the seal. 
 
 1868. Spencer. 
 
 AU REVOIE! 
 
 Oh! solemn words, which have of all 
 Leave-taking words the deepest spell, 
 
 From careless lips I hear them fall, 
 Sounding like a prophetic knell, 
 Each day in idle hearts' farewell. 
 
 To meet again! Ah! yes; again 
 
 Life's chances may together bring 
 
 These two who thoughtless part. But when? 
 The leaves which wild winds toss and fling, 
 Of years keep slender reckoning. 
 
FRIENDSHIP'S ALBUM. Ill 
 
 To meet again! Ah! yes: but where? 
 
 They both tread flowers and dance to-day, 
 
 But winter winds chill summer air; 
 And earth has places dark and gray, 
 Whence flowers and song have passed away. 
 
 To meet again! Ah! if God will, 
 
 With health and youth their veins are red, 
 
 But grave-stones gleam on every hill; 
 And burial services are said 
 Each day above the early dead. 
 
 hearts! these solemn words of all 
 Leave-taking words have deepest spell; 
 
 In tender whispers let them fall; 
 
 And lest they prove prophetic knell, 
 Add reverent prayer to each farewell! 
 
 Mrs. Helen Hunt. 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS. 
 
 A. W. P. ... .... 39. 
 
 Anemone . 43. 
 
 Appleton's 55, 106. 
 
 Anonymous 9, 10, 11, 12 2 , 13, 14 2 , 15 2 , 17 2 , 18, 
 20, 21, 23 2 , 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 31. 33, 
 34, 35, 3.8, 40, 41, 44, 47, 48, 51, 52, 53, 
 66, 71, 81, 84, 85, 87, 96, 104. 105, 109. 
 
 A. L. .... 
 
 .... 64. 
 
 Bideler, Laura M. 
 
 37. 
 
 Blye, Annie, 
 
 C.E.N. 
 
 52. 
 __..6, 44, 59. 
 
 Cuthbertson, Kittie, 
 
 37, 42, 63. 
 
 Carey, Alice, 
 
 Curtiss, D. A. 
 
 93. 
 
 100. 
 
 D. H. .... 
 
 .... 74. 
 
 Dillon, 
 
 .... 13. 
 
 Easterbrooks, R. VV. 
 
 .... 75. 
 
 Edgerton, Maude, 
 
 76. 
 
 F. F. G. 
 
 .... 60. 
 
 G. H. W. 
 
 .... 58. 
 
 Galaxy, . 
 
 Goodrich, Sallie B. 
 
 95. 
 
 .... 107. 
 
 Hogan, W. J. H. 
 
 32. 
 
 Hayward, J. Harry, 
 
 Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 
 
 .... 51. 
 
 55. 
 
 H. D. 
 
 ... . 67. 
 
114 IXDEX OF A UTHORS. 
 
 Hillard, F. A. 81, 
 
 Haddock, Mrs. S. F. 93. 
 
 Hunt. Mrs. Helen, 110, 
 
 K, M. . . _ . . . . _ . . _ - 12. 
 
 Kidder, Mrs. M. A. . _ _ . 68. 
 
 Longfellow. - - - - 10. 
 
 La Moille, - - - . - . - - - 39. 
 
 London World. 98. 
 
 M. T. -.-. -._. .__. 22. 
 
 Mickles. Mary W. -46. 
 
 Marvin. Fred. B. 102. 
 
 McDermott, Hugh F. . . . . 72. 
 
 Osborne. L. A. — 57. 
 
 Robinson. Grant P. 19. 
 
 Robinson. E. B. 49. 
 
 Rexford. Eben E. .'. _ _ 58. 
 
 Rutenbur Maggie L. 79. 
 
 Ruth. The Gleaner. 92- 
 
 Stoddard. R. H. _ - - - 30. 
 
 Stamvood. Ella, — 50. 
 
 St. L. D, _ _ _ _ - - - - 89. 
 
 Spencer, 110. 
 
 Spencer. Carl, 90. 
 
 Shelley, ... ....91. 
 
 Tennvson. 20. 
 
 Tavlor. Malcolm, _ _ _'_ 62. 
 
 Thompson. J. M. 80. 
 
 Tinslev's, 91. 
 
 V 
 
 Timrod, Henry. 97. 
 
 Urner. Nathan D. . . 66, 78, 86, 94. 
 
 Upham, Louise S. . . . . . 101. 
 
 W - ... 10. 
 
 W. M. E. ... ... 69. 
 
 Wheeler. Ella. .... .... 83. 
 
INDEX OP FIRST LINES. 
 
 A frivolous word, a sharp retort 64 
 
 A slender form, a girlish face 26 
 
 A watch chain made from ^Dixie's" hair 69 
 A health to dear woman! she bids us untwine 55 
 
 A wild, wet night! The driving sleet - 41 
 
 Ah yes, there is many an unplowed field 42 
 
 As 1 sit alone in the twilight - - . . 76 
 
 Among my books I found to-day _ . 35 
 
 And this was her end in a den of shame - 18 
 
 At last I have burned them, one by one - 94 
 
 Appearances are deceiving, sometimes - 67 
 
 Back on its golden hinges . , _ _ 84 
 
 Carriages without horses shall go - . 16 
 
 Come, girls, get on your jockey hats _ 21 
 Distance may spread between us, friend 110 
 
 Dinna fret, for tho' anither _ _ _ _ 63 
 
 Do not sing that song again _ - - _ 72 
 
 Drift over the slopes of the sunshine land 87 
 
 Fare thee well, love; we must sever - - 33 
 
 God bless the girls, whose golden curls 25 
 
 Gracie and I were never friends - . 86 
 
 Here in a deep recess of thought, we find 13 
 
 How rich, how sparkling are the gems 49 
 
 I bring thee a casket of jewels fair _ _ 8 
 
 I had a friend, a treasured friend - _ 12 
 
 I cling to thee, Youth! with nervous grasp 32 
 
116 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 I know a maiden fair to see . _ _ _ 10 
 
 1 love to hear a merry laugh _ _ _ _ 44 
 
 I looked about on the world one day _ - 75 
 
 I may live long, but some old days - - 95 
 
 I'm sitting bv my desk, Ned _ _ - - 104 
 
 I played with you 'mid cowslips growing 71 
 
 I said once in a dreamy wav, "I love you" 92 
 
 1 saw Esau kissing Kate - - _ _ 15 
 
 I sit musing — dav is gloaming _ . 62 
 
 I still love thee, 1 still love thee . _ 13 
 
 I stood in a tower in the wet _ _ _ _ 20 
 
 I thought our olden friendship dead _ . 55 
 
 I've pleasant thoughts that memory brings 14 
 
 I will tell thee what it is to love - - 24 
 
 I wish that you was back again __ 17 
 
 In the aisles of the orchard fair blossoms 59 
 
 It is but an old, old letter _ _ _ _ 40 
 
 Kneeling bv the stream I saw _ . 33 
 
 Let me lie upon your breast. _ _ _ oo 
 
 Let me see, how long has it been _ _ 74 
 
 Let vour summer friends go bv - - 52 
 
 Life's sands are running fast away - - 47 
 
 Like a soft summer shower of rose-petals oA 
 
 Like the ghost of a dear friend dead . _ 91 
 
 List, 'tis an echo that is borne on the air 44 
 
 Long years have passed, since first we met 50 
 
 Low burned the light, the room was dim 14 
 
 © 
 
 May fortune weave a wreath for thee 10 
 My heart — no fire upon its hearthstone burns 102 
 
 Not a laugh was heard, not a joyous note 34 
 
 No,^io, I can not take your proffered hand 22 
 
 Often as I sit - . . . - _ 28 
 
 Often as I sit thinking, pondering -- 64 
 
 Oft as I sit beside the fire - - - - 48 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 117 
 
 a 0h! California!" land of gold and toil 79 
 
 Oh could this heart of mine forget . - 57 
 
 © 
 
 Oh, dear one, gone so far away _ _ 58 
 
 Oh for the days, the joyous days _ _ 27 
 
 Oh look not, look not, love, before _ _ 106 
 
 Oh! solemn words, which have of all _ - 110 
 
 ;i O deep brown eyes," sang gay October 45 
 
 One bright June morn, while wanderin or out 101 
 
 Onlv a face at the window . . . _ 20 
 
 Only a faded rose - - _ . 17 
 
 Only a flower that he gave me . - 89 
 
 Only a ring, yet I prize it more - - 37 
 
 Only a woman's heart, whereon . . 81 
 
 Onlv waiting __ __ . _ 109 
 
 Only a woman's right hand glove - . 53 
 
 Over the ivory keys ..'. . . 81 
 
 Progress, dear friend, and may thy path 15 
 
 Pleasant thoughts are o'er me stealing 3 
 
 Say, hast thou so soon forgotten _ _ 46 
 
 Softlv the shades of twilight are falling 2 
 «/ © © 
 
 Spring with its promise has vanished 60 
 
 Still it is told when the moon shines bright 78 
 
 © 
 
 'Twas but a breath _ _ _ _ 11 
 
 'Tis memory's hand that is pushing aside 36 
 
 There's a turned-down page, as some writer 30 
 
 There is a time when summer roses bloom 39 
 
 There are gains for all our losses _ _ 29 
 
 'Tis but a band of ribbon - - __ 107 
 
 To think of every early scene _ _ 12 
 
 Then, as now, the woodlands were reddening 66 
 
 They live again, those happy hours _ _ 91 
 
 The old school -house stands deserted now 23 
 
 The fairest home that wealth can buy 18 
 
 The curtains are drawn, the lamps are lit 23 
 
118 IXDEX OF FIE ST LINES. 
 
 The days Avill come, and the days will go 39 
 
 The wave that floods the trembling shore 40 
 
 The rose-bud is withered, and faded, and old 48 
 
 The holiest of all holidays are those - - 51 
 
 m 
 
 The hardest thing for a man to do - - 68 
 
 The dying year grows strangely mild 90 
 
 The sun comes up and the sun goes down 93 
 
 The past is fading, fading - - - - 98 
 The k *Lone Jack" burns in my pipe to-night 100 
 
 Under the lamp lights, dead in the street 85 
 
 We have dreamed fond dreams together 43 
 
 Where are the green leaves, Avhere the flowers 93 
 
 When the winds are hushed in silence 38 
 
 When thou art sitting all alone -- 10 
 
 When morning dawns with gladsome light 14 
 
 When childhood's golden days have flown 80 
 
 <-> ■ 
 
 Whv am I silent from year to year - - 97 
 
 Wind of the winter night! 1 hear . - 96 
 
 With a swelling breast and a tear-moist eve 58 
 
 Within this album are enshrined - - 9 
 
 You had my friendship once - - 11 
 
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