aass ^fi ifT^^. 
 
 Book ni ■6~3 
 
Poems and Lyrics 
 
 BY 
 
 PATRICK F. DURKAN 
 

 ^V" 
 
 THE Library OF ] 
 
 CONGRESS, ■ 
 Two Copies Receiveo 
 
 JUN 27 t903 
 
 Ccpynght tniiy 
 H V^ 10 -I 1^ P 3 
 CUSS ^ XXc. No 
 
 COPY B, ^ 
 

 '\ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1903 
 BY PATRICK F. DURKAN. 
 
I DKDICAT^ THIS BOOK 
 TO MY WiFfl). 
 
Contents, 
 
 PAGK 
 
 Old Memories 9 
 
 Woman At Home 11 
 
 The Priest of God 14 
 
 The Man of Gold 18 
 
 Scranton 20 
 
 Soldiers*-Sailors' Monument 23 
 
 The Moneyed Kings 28 
 
 The Church of God. 31 
 
 Alice O'Connor 39 
 
 Our Country 41 
 
 Old Man in Blue 43 
 
 The Irish Melodies 45 
 
 Michael Doyle 47 
 
 The Veterans 50 
 
 The Mother of God 55 
 
 General Sheridan 62 
 
 The Sisterhood of God 67 
 
 Our Valley 71 
 
 Christmas Day 73 
 
 Honesty 75 
 
 The Cracker Boy 77 
 
 The Angels of Earth 79 
 
 'Twill Come as Sure as Day 82 
 
A Song of Labor 84 
 
 The Bard's Dead Spouse 86 
 
 The Violin. 89 
 
 The Dead 91 
 
 The Boys and Girls 95 
 
 Our Teachers 97 
 
 Freedom 101 
 
 The City of Scranton 103 
 
 Robert Emmet 105 
 
 Father John 108 
 
 The Dead Child 110 
 
 Would They Know Me Again Ill 
 
 From Wilkes-Barre — Looking Southwest 113 
 
 On the Death of a Young Lady 115 
 
 The Irish Cause 117 
 
 On the Death of a Child 119 
 
 Memories 120 
 
 The Last Lay of the Old Lackawanna Bridge 122 
 
 On Death \ 125 
 
 Dear Old Swinford Far Away 127 
 
 The Nation's Flag 129 
 
 The Chosen One 130 
 
 John's Tour in Ireland 131 
 
 A Scrantoniad 136 
 
 Man's Rights 142 
 
 Retribution 144 
 
 Ireland in '48 146 
 
 Musings ,.,,..,.,,. 148 
 
OLD MEMORIES. 
 
 There's not a human heart but feels 
 
 At times, a longing for the past, 
 When some fond memory o'er it steals. 
 
 And some old spell is round it cast. 
 It may be some forgotten bliss 
 
 That filled and thrilled it long ago; 
 A father's smile, a mother's kiss, 
 
 A sister's love that made it glow. 
 
 Perhaps, in happier days gone by, 
 A deeper love was there enshrined, 
 
 Which gave a lustre to the eye, 
 
 An impulse to the youthful mind; 
 
 'Till like a flower too early chilled. 
 The dear one pined and passed away, 
 
 And anguish deep that bosom filled, 
 Which love had thrilled a brighter day. 
 
 The faces that in childhood's home 
 Had grown familiar to the eye. 
 
 Are with us still where'er we roam. 
 Whatever scenes around us lie; 
 
lO POEMS AND I^YRICS 
 
 The melodies we loved to hear 
 
 In other lands, when life was youag, 
 
 Are heard again by fancy's ear, 
 In all the charms of mother tongue. 
 
 Where'er on earth we may sojourn, 
 
 In frigid zone or torrid clime, 
 Our thoughts through life will fondly turn 
 
 To other days endeared by time. 
 And thus, at times, the heart will feel 
 
 An earnest longing for the past. 
 When some fond memories o'er it steal, 
 
 And some old spell is round it cast. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS II 
 
 WOriAN AT HOME. 
 
 O woman of the simple grace, 
 The sweet, serene, angelic face. 
 Depart not from thy honored place, 
 
 Thy peaceful sphere. 
 Where thou dost reign and rule and sway 
 The hearts that cheerfully obey 
 Thy mandates through the livelong day 
 
 And hold thee dear. 
 
 We see thee as we look around. 
 Where light and love and joy abound, 
 A paradise where thou art crowned 
 
 Its chosen queen. 
 Would'st thou exchange for 'Woman's rights/ 
 For booth, or bar, or festive nights. 
 Thy glory and those home delights — 
 
 Thy life serene? 
 
 Books, music, culture, all are thine, 
 Truth makes thee free by word divine; 
 For fame abroad would'st thou resign 
 Thy happy lot? 
 
12 POEMS AND I.YRICS 
 
 Thy life of freedom and repose, 
 Thy home where sweet affection glows, 
 Where envy, strife, or kindred foes 
 Can enter not. 
 
 Should poorer sisters need thy aid 
 Against the tyranny of trade, 
 With them thy boimty is arrayed 
 
 In God's own name. 
 Oppression must be stricken down, 
 Whether it wears a hat or crown. 
 Clothed in ermine or in gown, 
 
 'Tis all the same. 
 
 Tis for thy sake, O woman, dear, 
 That I would keep thee in that sphere 
 Where thou art sunshine all the year 
 
 And something more. 
 An angel, like the winged above, 
 A saint in piety and love. 
 As mild and gentle as a dove, 
 
 Thou dost adore. 
 
 Religion claims thee as her own. 
 For thy fond heart is still the throne 
 Of God's own grace, to thee made known 
 In many ways. 
 
POEMS AND I<YRICS 13 
 
 Through all the varied scenes of life, 
 As mother, daughter, sister, wife, 
 He gives thee strength in every strife 
 In all thy days. 
 
 Beside the Cross a Mother stood, 
 The highest type of womanhood; 
 Saw with her eyes the Precious Blood 
 
 Flow from His side; 
 Heard His last words to God on high; 
 Heard from His lips His latest sigh; 
 Looked on His face and saw Him die, 
 
 As there He died. 
 
 Like her, thou art a mother, too; 
 O woman, thou art brave and true 
 When thou hast Christian work to do — 
 
 A noble heart. 
 Keep to thy model, thou canst reign 
 With all the virtues in thy train; 
 Where God has placed thee there remain 
 
 ,And do thy part. 
 
14 POKMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE PRIE5T OF GOD. 
 
 READ BY THE AUTHOR BEFORE THE HISTORICAI, AND NEWMAN MAG- 
 AZINE CIvUB. 
 
 Man of peace, yet, ever warring with the foes of God and 
 
 man. 
 Soldier of the Man of Sorrows, ever in the battle's van, 
 Often in the rank of martyrs, fighting in the open field, 
 Ever facing scenes of danger, never knowing how to yield. 
 
 Light and truth to those who hear him, to the sinner, friend 
 
 and guide, 
 He is here ordained to labor, here to preach the Crucified, 
 Here to comfort and to solace weary hearts in worldly strife, 
 Here to soothe the sick and dying wdth the Mystic Bread 
 
 of Life. 
 
 He has love for those who hate him, he but turns the other 
 
 cheek 
 To the bitter hand that smites him, he is humble, he is meek, 
 Yet, he fights with zeal and vigor and he ''conquers in that 
 
 sign," 
 For his weapons are God-given and his mission is divine. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 15 
 
 He has met the brutal Caesars in their arrogance and might, 
 He has conquered, they are driven with their legions out of 
 
 sight; 
 He has vanquished Goth and Vandal, fierce barbarians of 
 
 old, 
 Out of darkness into sunlight he has led them to the Fold. 
 
 Where the pagan bowed to idols, deities of wood and stone. 
 Where the sun and moon were worshipped and the true God 
 
 was unknown, 
 He has reared the Christian temple, built the cloister and 
 
 the shrine, 
 Freed the slave and taught the master that but justice is 
 
 divine. 
 
 Taught that woman is man's equal, that the husband and 
 
 the wife 
 Are but one in joy and sorrow, that the union is for life; 
 That no hand shall put asunder what is sealed by God on 
 
 high 
 That the marriage bond is holy and its grace will never die. 
 
 Skilled in lore profound and ancient, deep in science and 
 
 in art, 
 Rich in culture and the graces of the mind and of the heart, 
 In the highest seats of learning, in the dark hut grim and 
 
 bare. 
 Teaching, training, molding, saving, you will find him 
 
 everywhere. 
 
1 6 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Never ceasing from his labors while his hands and feet are 
 
 free, 
 Ever walking in the footsteps of the Man of GaHlee, 
 Ever patient, ever faithful does he journey day by day, 
 Bearing light and love from heaven to the heathen far away. 
 
 Oceans, seas and lakes and rivers, mountains, valleys, for- 
 ests, plains 
 
 Has he crossed, and braved while crossing, hunger, torture, 
 death and chains. 
 
 He has traversed all earth's regions, he is known in every 
 clime, 
 
 Ele has seen the Crucifixion, he will live the life of time. 
 
 Where disease has spread its terrors and the stoutest hearts 
 
 have fled, 
 Leaving him to keep his vigils o'er the dying and the dead, 
 He has shown in posts of danger that the hero of the sword 
 Is not braver, is not greater, than the soldier of the Lord. 
 
 He has sought the exiled leper in the far off Molokai, 
 There to live till he is stricken, there to linger and to die, 
 There to minister while dying to the sad ones in his care, 
 There to pass from earth to heaven to be crowned a martyr 
 there. 
 
 You, who slander and deride him, nay, who crucify him, too, 
 Know you not, the Lord's anointed has no bitter taunts for 
 you, . 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS I? 
 
 Ilim you know not, else your ravings and the lurid lies you 
 
 paint, 
 Would give way to love's own tribute to the hero and the 
 
 saint. 
 
 See him in the field of battle heedless of the shot and shell 
 That are whizzing, shrieking round him like the revelry of 
 
 hell, 
 There he sees but those who need him in that tragic hour 
 
 of life, 
 While the earth convulsive shudders at the carnage and the 
 
 strife. 
 
 Might not he win fame and fortune by the sword or with 
 
 the pen, 
 Had he thrown the gage of battle at the feet of rival men; 
 But he chose the humble calling of the cassock and the 
 
 gow^n, 
 For he knew that he whose standard is the Cross, will wear 
 
 the Crown. 
 
 He well knew the cares and trials that await the neophyte. 
 And the dangers that beset him in the work of day and 
 
 night. 
 He knew that saints and sinners, too, were chastened by 
 
 the rod. 
 Yet, he left a world of pleasure to become a Priest of God- 
 
iS POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE MAN OF GOLD. 
 
 How poor are the rich in their vain display 
 
 If wealth has no higher aim, 
 How little is lost when they pass away, 
 
 To the dust from whence they came; 
 Their graves may be decked with the sculptor's art, 
 
 Their virtues inscribed in stone, 
 But grief will not enter the poor man's heart, 
 
 Their kindred will weep alone. 
 
 What to thee, is this world, O man cf gold, 
 
 Its rank or its social ties, 
 When thou art as pulseless, as mute and cold 
 
 As the clay that o'er thee lies! 
 What, too, are the mortgages, bonds and loans 
 
 That made thee a mortal proud. 
 When thy fingers bereft of precious stones. 
 
 Are hidden beneath a shroud? 
 
 Look around while yet there is light and see 
 
 What is it that needs thy aid, 
 A people who struggle for liberty, — 
 
 The ruin a tyrant has made; 
 -The widows and orphans of war's wild reign, 
 
 The sick and the wounded, too. 
 Shall they, to thee, mortal, appeal in vain. 
 
 When thou hast a work to do? 
 
POKMS AND IvYRICS 1 9 
 
 A work to do, nay, a mission is thine, 
 
 To solace, to aid and cheer, 
 For, art thou not counselled by word divine 
 
 To remember the poor are here? 
 Is it not v/ell for thee, m.ortal, to know. 
 
 In the light of tranquil days, 
 What comfort and pleasures thou can'st bestow 
 
 With wealth in a thousand ways? 
 
 Books for the multitude — food for the mind. 
 
 Knowledge that lifts and refines, 
 Help for the feeble, the homeless and blind. 
 
 These are humanity's lines; 
 Art true and beautiful, too, to adorn 
 
 The landscape, the park and hall. 
 That all may rejoice, for genius is born 
 
 To labor and shine for all. 
 
 Then give of thy treasures, O man of gold. 
 
 Bestow with a willing hand 
 While wealth is yet thine, and thou wilt behold 
 
 A work that will ever stand; 
 Wait not till death lays its hand on thy brow. 
 
 Let not thy gifts be delayed; 
 Give, man of gold, of thy plentitude now, 
 
 Ere the needy are past thy aid. 
 
20 POKMS AISID LYRICS 
 
 SCRANTON. 
 
 Reared in the wilderness by skilful hands, 
 In stately pride our fair, young city stands. 
 Of rapid growth along those chosen lines, 
 The mart, the mill, the workshop and the mines'. 
 Nor less her speed in art and science, too, 
 For schools abound where, late, the forest grew, 
 And spires ascend from temples rich in art. 
 While chords electric thrill her very heart; 
 And, where the wigwam rude, a shelter gave 
 To chief and squaw, to papoose and to brave. 
 The palace stands, and, round, on every side 
 Are homes where wealth and luxury abide. 
 Here, too, abide the men of every trade. 
 Who make for man whatever man has made; 
 Light, air and water, ample, pure and clear. 
 Make Hfe a pleasure as we find it here ; 
 Silk, steel and coal, the products of her skill. 
 Have brought her fame and gold, increasing still; 
 Along her streets the trolley rolls its way 
 With tireless energy from day to day, 
 Bearing its living freight o'er hill and dale, 
 To every point within our matchless vale. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 21 
 
 Her institutions rank amongst the best 
 
 For skill and care, for labor and for rest; 
 
 With banks as sound as any in the State, 
 
 A public library equipped to date, 
 
 A classic pile, within whose walls we find 
 
 The choicest gems — the treasures of the mind, 
 
 A noble gift — its donor's name will live 
 
 As long as Scranton's heart a throb can give; 
 
 A Board of Trade intelligent and wise, 
 
 That gladly welcomes honest enterprise; 
 
 A railway center, needing something more — 
 
 A Union Depot, one, in place of four. 
 
 Her daily papers glisten with the news 
 
 Of war's wild drama — bear the sober views 
 
 Of men long trained in journalistic art, 
 
 Who know the courtesies of life by heart, 
 
 Long practiced in the warfare of the pen, 
 
 They strike and thrust and thrust and strike, and, then 
 
 Shake hands and dine and to their sanctums go 
 
 To face again the same old, friendly foe. 
 
 Progressive as the age in all those lines, 
 
 She caps the climax with her School of Mines. 
 
 Protected by her hills from tempest wild, 
 Or dreaded cyclone from its home exiled, 
 The fierce tornado or the hurricane 
 That sweep destructive o'er the open plain. 
 She stands secure behind those ramparts high 
 And grows and prospers as the years roll by, 
 
22 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Expanding still across the valley wide, 
 
 With steady steps she climbs the mountain side, 
 
 And still advancing towards another goal 
 
 With all the dignity of self-control, 
 
 She will not pause nor loiter as she goes, 
 
 Till, at her feet, the Susquehanna flows. 
 
POEMS AND I.YRICS 23 
 
 SOLDIERS'-SAILORS' ilONUMENT. 
 Dedicated to the People of Lackawanna County. 
 
 &EAD BY R^V. P. J. M'MANUS AT THE) UNVKII^ING OP TH15 MONU- 
 MENT, NOVEMBER 15, 1900. 
 
 I hail thee, Scranton, as the chosen ground 
 On which the heroes of a war are crowned 
 With wreaths immortal by the hand that wove 
 Those precious garlands in the loom of love. 
 
 *Tis long ago since first to thee I came 
 
 And saw thy youth that promised future fame, 
 
 Found in thy shade a mission and a home 
 
 And knew contentment when I ceased to roam; 
 
 Saw with delight thy energies expand 
 
 'Till thou wert known and famed throughout the land, 
 
 And thou, to me, art dearer day by day 
 
 As I behold thee speeding on thy way 
 
 With highest aim and noblest end in view — 
 
 The greatest good thy willing hands can do, 
 
 For I have seen thy bounty oft displayed 
 
 Without reserve, in all the forms of aid, 
 
24 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 It matters not along whatever line 
 Thy help is sought, benevolence is thine. 
 Let other pens they weaker lines decry, 
 'Tis mine to see thee with a lover's eye, 
 For thou art fair from, every point of view, 
 Hill, grove and vale and all around thee, too. 
 As if some fairy hand had touched thy brow 
 And made thee graceful as we see thee now, 
 The good, the brave and true in thee abide, 
 Else, wert thou poor vvith all thy charms beside. 
 For what are wealth and luxury and art 
 Without the priceless treasures of the heart? 
 Those are of earth and will, in time, decay. 
 These are divine and shall not pass away. 
 
 Of massive size, upon thy Court House Square 
 A classic monument stands proudly there. 
 That granite pile, symmetrical and high. 
 Enchants the heart and captivates the eye. 
 Its figures mute, yet, far more eloquent 
 Than pen or tongue recall the great event 
 When North and South in hostile lines arrayed. 
 Faced, each, the other's deadly cannonade 
 That swept the wood, the hillside and the plain 
 With all the fury of a hurricane. 
 While shell and bullet, sword and bayonet 
 Did, each, its work so well remembered yet. 
 On mountain height, in valley deep and wide 
 
POKMS AND IvYRICS 25 
 
 The struggle surged like ocean's rolling tide, 
 From North to South, from East to West it spread, 
 Leaving a trail of wounded and of dead — 
 A heritage of sorrow and of woe 
 To hearts that loved the heroes lying low. 
 Thus passed it on still spreading o'er the land, 
 A moving spectacle, sublime and grand, 
 Till famed Antietam loud its triumph pealed 
 And Gettysburg the final issue sealed. 
 
 What varied scenes the soldier's life might fill, 
 
 The march, the camp, the bivouac and the drill, 
 
 The sudden call to meet the fierce attack. 
 
 The hurried rush to drive the foeman back. 
 
 The shattered ranks, the broken, wild retreat, 
 
 The thrilHng victory, the sad defeat. 
 
 To force a way across a guarded bridge, i 
 
 Or climb the height of Missionary Ridge, 
 
 To face entrenchments on the rugged slope 
 
 With all the bravery of forlorn hope, i 
 
 Or, through the swamp or over tangled grass. 
 
 To push with vigor through the mounted pass. 
 
 Or, take his stand upon the open plain , 
 
 And die that freedom o'er the land might reign. 
 
 How sad to see a gallant soldier die. 
 
 With no kind hand to close his drooping eye. 
 
 With no soft voice to whisper in his ear 
 
26 POEMS AND I^YRICS 
 
 That one dear friend, a comforter, is near 
 To place his head upon a tender breast 
 And smooth it gently as he sinks to rest. 
 He, too, may long for parent, wife or child, 
 While life still ebbs in some unbroken wild, 
 Or in the field where thousands round him lie 
 In death's embrace, not fearing thus to die. 
 His thoughts will reach the homestead far away 
 Where dear ones hunger for the coming day, 
 When they shall hear his footsteps at the door, 
 Rush to his heart and part with him no more, 
 The light is fading and his eye grows dim, 
 And now, he knows that home is not for him, 
 A parting sigh, a gasp and all is o'er. 
 The soldier's eyes are closed for evermore. 
 
 What are the trophies of this Civil War? 
 What broughtest thou, O Soldier, from afar? 
 A parchment tendered by a martyrs hand, 
 "Proclaiming liberty throughout the land," 
 A written law, a signature that gave 
 Emancipation to the hapless slave; 
 This is thy glory, this the Nation's pride. 
 Won by thy valor — justice on thy side. 
 
 Nor less is he the hero of that time. 
 
 Who from the deck within a torrid clime. 
 
 Faced shot and shell from fort and battery 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 27 
 
 And held his place till death had set him free; 
 
 Lived not to hear his country's loud acclaim 
 
 For him whose brow would wear the wreath of fame. 
 
 Nor are we slow to praise, nor, yet, too late; 
 This work of art we fondly dedicate 
 To gallant deeds, to those of land and sea 
 Who bore our flag aloft to victory. 
 
 Thank God those "dark and bloody days" are o'er, 
 
 And North and South are one for evermore, 
 
 That Blue and Gray fraternally unite 
 
 As foes to wrong, invincible in right. 
 
 That peace has won more victories than w^^^^ 
 
 And love is still the Nation's guiding star. 
 
28 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE HONEYED KINGS. 
 
 *Tis a sordid age when wealth is the rage and man is but 
 
 merchandise, 
 To be bought or sold for a price in gold — the slave of an 
 
 enterprise ; 
 ^Is the Nation's shame, this freedom in name — ^this reign 
 
 of the moneyed kings, 
 This tribute we pay to the despot's sway — the rule of the 
 
 chartered rings. 
 
 Twas our country's boast, that from coast to coast, across 
 
 her spacious domain, 
 While her flag should float or a freeman vote, a monarch 
 
 should never reign; 
 Yet, thou art a king, O man of the ring, and thy scepter 
 
 is made of gold. 
 And senates, to thee, bend the servile knee — the people are 
 
 bought and sold. 
 
 Has the greed for gold like the mammon of old, effaced 
 
 from the soul of man 
 The love that was shown to that victim unknown by the 
 
 Gocd Samaritan? 
 
POEMS AND IvYRICS 29 
 
 The love for the poor who will ever endure and ever will 
 
 bless the hand 
 That holds not the rod for the children of God, away from 
 
 the promised land. 
 
 Hast thou wrung from toil all thy golden spoil, O man at 
 the palace door? 
 
 Is it all thine own, is it thine alone, and dost thou but long 
 for more? 
 
 Is that wealth of thine, in coin or in mine, more precious to 
 three, O chief, 
 
 Than that human soul on its way to the goal, through hun- 
 ger and cold and grief? 
 
 O mortal, to thee, is thy destiny not more than thy social 
 
 sway? 
 Has the rich man's fate, has a future state, no place in thy 
 
 thoughts today? 
 Thou knowest full well, it is heaven or hell, a bright or a 
 
 dark abode, 
 Of bliss or of woe, above, or below, as thou bearest thy 
 
 human load. 
 
 Remember thou must, O man of the dust, account for thy 
 
 stewardship here, 
 Of what thou hadst done with the gold thou hadst won in 
 
 the days of thy life's career; 
 
30 POKMS AND LYRICS 
 
 'Tis thine but to share, O proud milHonaire, with the poor 
 
 and oppressed of the land, 
 For all that we hold in land or in gold, is the bounty of 
 
 God's right hand. 
 
 There are those who give — O long may they live — with the 
 
 heart behind the deed, 
 Not for praise nor fame, but in God's own name, to succor 
 
 the ones in need, 
 We know there is more than abundance in store for the 
 
 giver in every clime, 
 When, even a cup of the water we sup, will have its reward 
 
 in time. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 3^ 
 
 THE CHURCH OF GOD. 
 
 READ BY THE AUTHOR BEFORE THE HISTORICAl. AND NEWMAN MAG- 
 AZINE CI^UB. 
 
 Founded by Him who died that thou mightst live, 
 His spotless spouse and of thy treasures give 
 With open hand, to man in every clime 
 Throughout the long, eventful course of time. 
 
 Built on a rock above the surging tide. 
 
 Of human error in its wanton pride. 
 
 Thou standest here, immortal and secure, 
 
 A light divine — a house that shall endure. 
 
 Thy way is truth, and truth has made thee free, 
 
 And peace and love and life abide in thee. 
 
 Baptized in blood, assailed by fire and sword 
 
 While thou wert yet a nursling of the Lord, 
 
 Thy youth was cast in vain, despotic Rome, 
 
 The seat of empire and the Caesar's home; 
 
 Where persecution reigned o'er thee, alone, 
 
 Nor place hadst thou nor home that thou couldst own ; 
 
32 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Where thou wert tortured and thy martyr's blood 
 
 Was swept to ocean by the Tiber's flood; 
 
 Where man and beast, alike in madness, tore 
 
 Thy bleeding heart and trampled on its gore; 
 
 Where thou wert driven to the Catacombs, 
 
 Beyond the glare of proud, patrician homes, 
 
 There to abide in darkness and in grief. 
 
 To ofifer sacrifice till came relief 
 
 From God's own hand that placed thee on the throne 
 
 Thou ownest now and evermore wilt own. 
 
 Thus were the edicts of thy tyrants vain. 
 
 For there thou art and there thou shalt remain 
 
 In all thy strength, majestic and sublime, 
 
 The greatest, grandest, fairest gift to time. 
 
 Thou hast withstood the tempest of the state, 
 
 The arts of hell, its fury and its hate; 
 
 For thou art robed in holiness and grace. 
 
 Nor time, nor man, nor demon can efface 
 
 That seal celestial from thy hallowed brow. 
 
 Nor touch, nor reach the crown thou wxarest now. 
 
 Hadst thou been human when thy lot was cast 
 
 Amidst the tortures of thy early past. 
 
 Thou couldst not live through all that martyrdom. 
 
 Nor face the sorrow that to thee have come. 
 
 The deepest, darkest when against thee rose 
 
 Thy faithless children worse than pagan foes; 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 33 
 
 For they had known thee, eaten of thy Bread, 
 
 Knew that by thee the multitudes were fed, 
 
 On Christ's own body and His sacred Blood, 
 
 That thou wert perfect in thy motherhood, 
 
 For He hath moulded thee in every line 
 
 And made thee peerless, deathless and divine; 
 
 Yet, they, like those who in rebellion fell 
 
 From heaven's high portals to the depths of hell. 
 
 Opposed thy reign and fiercely cast aside 
 
 Thy stainless garments and in reckless pride 
 
 Their mad career, their evil course began; 
 
 They branded thee the foe to God and man, 
 
 And filled with hate they passed from place to place 
 
 And gathered might and smote thee in the face. 
 
 Plundered thy temples, laid thy cloisters bare. 
 
 Tore from the shrine the relics treasured there. 
 
 And desecration brought the sword and flame. 
 
 And confiscation left thee but a name; 
 
 And there was slaughter dark and deep and grim. 
 
 And priest and monk and sister died for Him, 
 
 Like thy first martyrs fearlessly and bi-ave. 
 
 And won salvation for the lives they gave; 
 
 Yet, vain the axe, the gibbet and the stake, 
 
 Or all that man in cruelty could make 
 
 To shake thy fortitude or wring from thee 
 
 Other than words to spurn the heresy. 
 
 One land, one race, one people ever true. 
 
 Have clung to thee with chains and death in view, 
 
34 POEMS a:sd lyrics 
 
 Have faced the rack, the scaffold and the block 
 
 For thee, O mother of the scattered flock, 
 
 Have borne the woes of exile for thy sake. 
 
 Nor want, nor fate their trust in God could shake, 
 
 Have nursed thee here and spread thee far and wide- 
 
 Till thou art now their glory and their pride. 
 
 Isle of Saints! O land of mine, to thee 
 
 1 turn tonight with loving eyes and see 
 Thy face illumined with the light of yore 
 When thou wert famed for sanctity and lore. 
 When other nations to thy fountains came 
 And drank of thee and glorified thy name; 
 
 Thy churches, cloisters, shrines and schools I see 
 
 In all the glow of faith and piety, 
 
 Thy very air is perfumed with the love 
 
 Thou pourest forth in praise to Him, above, 
 
 Who gave thee Patrick, Bridget, Columbkille, 
 
 And keeps thee faithful to his counsels still. 
 
 O cherished land, O martyr to a cause 
 
 That brought thee tortures, death and Penal Laws^. 
 
 What faith sublime, what constancy was thine! 
 
 Based on the teachings of the Man divine. 
 
 In thee we find a Peter firm and true, 
 A John in love, a Paul in spirit, too, 
 A fortitude that yielded not to time, 
 A zeal that bore the light from clime to clime. 
 
POBMS AND I^YRICS 35 
 
 The past is thine, the future shall behold 
 Thy face transfigured with the joys of old, 
 For Gcd is just and He Vvdll give to thee 
 A plentitude of peace and liberty; 
 The rod has passed from Judah's hand to thine. 
 And He, the son of David's royal line, 
 Has made thy race His chosen people now 
 And placed the crown of Zion on thy brow. 
 
 O, holy church, the vintage of the Vine 
 
 Whose life is bliss, whose essence is divine, 
 
 Thou hast outlived the Caesars lost to view; 
 
 Thy Cross has triumphed o'er the Crescent, too, 
 
 And heresies and schisms show decay, 
 
 And Voltaire's blighting breath has passed away, 
 
 And creedless science, blind philosophy 
 
 That knows not God, whose light it cannot see. 
 
 Can harm no more, its prestige, now, is gone. 
 
 And, thus bereft it faintly lingers on 
 
 Till, like the errors that have passed away. 
 
 It, too, will vanish from the light of day. 
 
 And feeble now the foes that yet assail 
 
 Thy onward course, thy strength that shall prevail, 
 
 The time will come when thou, alone, wilt reign 
 
 In all thy grandeur over earth's domain; 
 
 For, in the end thy mission will embrace 
 
 All lands, all climes — the countless human race. 
 
36 POKMS AND LYRICS 
 
 And thou art here in all the robes of youth, 
 The light, "The pillar and the ground of truth." 
 How canst thou err when He, thy Lord and guide, 
 Is always with thee, ever at thy side 
 To guard and cheer thee on thy rugged way 
 Till thou hast seen the end of time's last day, 
 Thence to thy home eternal and divine, 
 Where heaven's own bliss and glory will be thine. 
 
 Art, music, poetry were thine of old. 
 
 And science, too, was nurtured in thy fold, 
 
 And schools were thine, and higher seats of lore 
 
 Arose and flourished in thy light of yore; 
 
 And, in those ages styled the dark and drear 
 
 How full of Hfe, how bright vv^as thy career! 
 
 The brush, the tongue, the chisel and the pen 
 
 Drew inspiration from thy glories then, 
 
 And from retreats built by their tireless hands, 
 
 Went forth thy monks to Christianize the lands 
 
 That knew thee not till missionary zeal 
 
 Brought light and grace and thy baptismal seal 
 
 To hordes barbarian and fierce and bold. 
 
 Who there were led, submissive, to thy fold, 
 
 Thy lamp was ever trimmed and bright and clear. 
 
 And shed refulgence over all thy sphere; 
 
 And cloistered hands engrossed with skill and care, 
 
 Thy sacred text upon the parchment bare, 
 
POEMS AKD LYRICS 37' 
 
 Preserved the classics in their faultless grace, 
 
 And art was nursed and science kept its place 
 
 Within thy shades, and music sought in thee 
 
 The guide and patron of its melody, 
 
 Nor since has Dante found a peer in thought 
 
 Along the lines his matchless genius wrought, 
 
 Nor architecture in its latest mold. 
 
 With thine, the Gothic, place nor rank can hold. 
 
 Painting and sculpture, too, unrivalled still. 
 
 Combined the noblest thoughts and highest skill. 
 
 Those were the ages of the sword and pen, 
 
 Of feudal strife, of wise and holy men. 
 
 And here, again, another triumph came. 
 
 The 'Truce of God" was thine in force and name, 
 
 The haughty noble bowed to thy decree. 
 
 The wearied vassal found a friend in thee. 
 
 How vast are all the treasures of thy mind! 
 
 How rich the gifts and graces there combined! 
 
 For all the knowledge of the past is thine 
 
 And all the wisdom of those lips divine 
 
 Is in thy soul, for thou hast ever shown 
 
 That true philosophy is thine, alone. 
 
 These are the charms that from thy rival drew 
 
 A Newman, Faber and a Manning, too; 
 
 Rank, wealth and fashion cultured and profound,,. 
 
 Have come to thee for thine is holy ground. 
 
38 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 And they who once thy hoHness decried 
 Assume the garb that thou hast sanctified, 
 And others still, are waiting to be led 
 Within the fold, to eat thy ''Living Bread." 
 
 Thank God thy light is spreading far and wide. 
 That hatred, error, bigotry and pride 
 Are yielding fast to thy potential rays 
 And taunts and sneers are lost in words of praise, 
 Soon may the nations see thee as thou art, 
 And give to thee the homage of the heart. 
 Bow to thy guidance all thy rights maintain 
 And war will cease and peace, alone, will reign. 
 
 Come back, ye wanderers in human thought. 
 
 Come back, ye men whose priceless souls were bought 
 
 By Him, your Lord, whose Precious Blood was shed 
 
 Alike, for all — the living and the dead; 
 
 Hear ye His words and trample on the pride 
 
 That holds you back from Him, the Crucified, 
 
 Who calls you hither to a banquet rare. 
 
 For, He, Himself, is host and viand there. 
 
 Come ye, the way, the path your fathers trod, 
 
 Come back, O brothers, to the Church of God. 
 
POKMS AND I^YRICS 39 
 
 ALICE O'CONNOR. 
 
 In my youth I loved to wander to that gray old cottage 
 yonder, 
 
 Which looks so sad and lonely by the winding river's side, 
 
 For there dwelt one whose greeting at each well remem- 
 bered meeting 
 
 Thrilled me with that joy ecstatic which no human heart 
 can hide. 
 
 Never bloomed a sweeter maiden 'mid the bowers of old 
 
 Killaden, 
 Than the fair and gentle Alice, of O'Connor's princely line; 
 She her parents' blue-eyed treasure — she their darling pride 
 
 and pleasure, 
 With a melody enchanting sang this cherished love of mine. 
 
 Oft within the cottage bower, at the twilight's solemn hour, 
 Talked we of our fond devotion — of our prospects o'er and 
 
 o'er — 
 Of a future home romantic, far beyond the wide Atlantic, 
 In the land of golden sunsets, by the Mississippi's shore. 
 
 Every day brought forth its charm, and my heart felt no 
 
 alarm, 
 Till the mellow autumn vanished and the dreary winter 
 
 came — 
 
40 POBMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Came and brought death's cruel warning on a bleak De- 
 cember morning, 
 To that rare and gifted maiden of the proud, historic name. 
 
 Ah! it pangs me to remember all the woes of that December; 
 All the weary, hopeless vigils at the dying maiden's side; 
 All the tender words there spoken, till the spirit bonds were 
 
 broken, 
 And the death scene and the chamber, where the saintly 
 
 Alice died. 
 
 Thus the idol we had cherished pined before our gaze and 
 
 perished, 
 While the New Year's dawn was breaking o'er Killaden's 
 
 hills and plains ; 
 And she sleeps beside that bower where at twilight's solemn 
 
 hour, 
 With a soul immersed in rapture, I had listened to her 
 
 strains. 
 
 And the light has fled forever from that cottage by the 
 river — 
 
 All the sunshine, all the gladness, all the melody it bore — 
 
 With the loved one have departed, leaving dear ones broken- 
 hearted ; 
 
 Leaving gloom and leaving sadness in that happy home of 
 yore. 
 
POBMS AND LYRICS 4 1 
 
 OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 So many tongues have spoken loud thy praise, 
 
 So many pens have written of thy fame, 
 That scarce a thought is left to one who pays 
 
 A grateful tribute to thy honored name. 
 With no grand art to grace his simple rhyme. 
 
 No hope to thrill thee with his humble lay, 
 He hails thee as the proudest work of time, 
 
 Man's greatest empire on the earth, today. 
 
 Vast are thy forests, prairies, slopes and vales. 
 
 Thy mountains high, thy rivers deep and wide. 
 Thy lakes like seas are filled with speeding sails, 
 
 While commerce crowds thy shores on every side, 
 All climes are thine and each its tribute yields 
 
 To rich abundance gathered near and far. 
 Thy boundless wealth in harbors, mines and fields, 
 
 Makes thee an arbiter in peace and war. 
 
 Not thine the glory of the setting sun 
 
 As slow it sinks and passes out of sight. 
 Above the splendor of the rising one. 
 
 Thou art to human eyes, more grand and bright, 
 Ascending still in peerless dignity. 
 
 Thou yet wilt reach that lofty height sublime, 
 From which thou canst, self-poised, secure and free, 
 
 Look down upon thy rivals here, in time. 
 
42 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 The trampled and oppressed of other lands 
 
 Have found in thee a refuge and a home, 
 For thou hast faced the waves with outstretched hands 
 
 To welcome those who to thy shores have come. 
 And they are one within thy wide domain, 
 
 Loyal in heart and hand and true to thee, 
 One flag is theirs and theirs it will remain, 
 
 The symbol of their love and unity. 
 
 Should foreign foes that gallant flag assail. 
 
 Their armed hosts would meet in battle line 
 As dauntless hearts as ever faced the hail 
 
 Of shot and shell or wore that blue of thine. 
 The men of every race and clime that find 
 
 In thee protection, home and country, all, 
 Would bear that flag with millions close behind, 
 
 Through all the scenes of war at duty's call. 
 
 Peace is thy mission, human rights thy care, 
 
 Freedom to man and light to all around, 
 Help for the tyrant's victims everywhere, 
 
 In famine's grasp or on the battle ground. 
 Peace and good will, that sweet, angelic strain. 
 
 Is thine to cultivate and spread afar, 
 That love and joy o'er all the earth may reign. 
 
 Nor greed shall live, nor hate abide, nor war. 
 
POBMS AND LYRICS 43 
 
 OLD HAN IN BLUE. 
 
 SUNG BY MRS. JOSEPH O'BRIKN AT THE) I^UDWIG CONCERT 
 MAY 30, I9OI. 
 
 Gray is that head of thine, 
 
 Old man in Blue 
 Marching again in line, 
 
 Old man in Blue. 
 Bent are thy shoulders now, 
 Mellowed by time thy brow, 
 Fondly to thee we bow, 
 
 Old man in Blue. 
 
 Oft in the battlefield, 
 
 Old man in Blue, 
 Where loud the cannon pealed, 
 
 Old m.an in Blue, 
 Faced thou the fire and flame, 
 Faced thou whatever came. 
 Ever in war the same, 
 
 Brave man and true. 
 
 There wert thou long ago, 
 
 Old man in Blue, 
 Facing a gallant foe. 
 
 Old man in Blue. 
 
44 POBMS AND LYRICS 
 
 There with thy sword or gun, 
 There 'till the fight was won, 
 There 'till thy work was done, 
 Old man in Blue. 
 
 Peace o'er the land today, 
 
 Old man in Blue, 
 Mingle the Blue and Gray, 
 
 Old man in Blue. 
 
 Never as foes to meet, 
 
 Never to know defeat. 
 
 One flag, alone, to greet, 
 
 Old man in Blue. 
 
 When thou art laid to rest, 
 
 Old man in Blue, 
 Comrades who knew thee best, 
 
 Old man in Blue, 
 Will, in their sweet perfume. 
 Place on thy honored tomb 
 Flowers of fairest bloom, 
 Old man in Blue. 
 
 Long will we cherish thee, 
 
 Old man in Blue; 
 Long will thy memory. 
 
 Old man in Blue, 
 Live in the hearts of men, 
 Live on the tongue and pen, 
 Soldier and citizen — 
 Old man in Blue. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 45 
 
 THE IRISH MELODIES. 
 
 If no other tie should bind me 
 To the land I've left behind me, 
 Thy melodies, O Erin, would enchain my soul to thee ; 
 For they voice thy spirit sighing 
 O'er thy martyrs dead, or dying. 
 Or thy hapless children flying, from thy shores, across the 
 sea. 
 
 Or they light us back to ages, 
 Famed for saints and bards and sages; 
 
 For the glories that had flourished ere the Norman ruled 
 the Pale; 
 And through sacred aisles we wander, 
 And by hallowed shrines we ponder 
 
 On the past, and grow still fonder of our saintly Innisfail. 
 
 There is less of joy and gladness. 
 Than of pathos, grief and sadness. 
 
 In those rich and racy lyrics that are ours for evermore; 
 For their country's tribulations. 
 More than brighter contemplations. 
 
 Were the themes and inspirations of the native bards of yore. 
 
46 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 They sang of glories vanished, 
 
 Of heroes slain or banished 
 From their own beloved Erin, to the shores of other lands; 
 
 Of a priesthood ever braving 
 
 Death or tortures, bent on saving 
 Souls departing, that were craving aid and comfort at their 
 hands. 
 
 It seems as if kind Heaven 
 
 To us those gems hath given 
 To soothe our deepest sorrows with their melody divine; 
 
 And to thrillingly remind us 
 
 That wherever fate may find us, 
 A thousand ties still bind us to the land of saint and shrine. 
 
 Instinctively we love them, 
 
 Nor shall we place above them, 
 The lyrics of the stranger of whatever zone or clime; 
 
 For we hold as priceless treasures, 
 
 Those airs in varied measures. 
 That are home-endearing pleasures, sweet, enchanting and 
 sublime. 
 
 The bards are gone forever, 
 
 But their melodies will never 
 Fail to wake the deep emotions of the deathless Irish race; 
 
 For those exquisite creations 
 
 Glow with fervid aspirations 
 Of the fairest of earth's nations, that yet wears the saddest 
 face. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 47 
 
 MICHAEL DOYLE. 
 
 Near this valley's richest acre stands a huge, ungainly 
 breaker, 
 A dingy, dismal structure, with a dark, unsightly crest; 
 Looking sullen, grim, defiant, Hke the fabled ogre giant; 
 Or a scowling, sable spectre brooding o'er the valley's 
 breast. 
 
 Just as the sun was rising, with his early rays baptizing 
 Scenes that wore the tranquil glory of the morning's 
 crimson light, 
 Came there to that frowning breaker, near that rich, em- 
 bellished acre. 
 One who wore the garb of labor, dusky as the shades 
 of night. 
 
 Tall and stately was his form, and his heart was true and 
 warm; 
 Once a gallant Union soldier was this humble man of 
 toil; 
 Gentle to the friend and stranger; dauntless in the hour of 
 danger; 
 Filled with noble aspirations was the soul of Michael 
 Doyle. 
 
48 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Through the shaft he soon descended, and his way he slowly 
 
 wended 
 
 To a far ofif, silent chamber, with the lamp light for his 
 
 guide; 
 
 And he felt a strange sensation as he gained his destination; 
 
 A solemn, sad foreboding, in that chamber dim and wide. 
 
 His throbbing heart grew stiller as he glanced at roof and 
 
 pillar, 
 
 That glistened faint and dimly in the lurid light he bore; 
 
 For that strange, prophetic warning, on that sad, eventful 
 
 morning 
 
 Made him feel in that still chamber as he never felt before. 
 
 While thus oppressed and saddened, his very soul was 
 gladdened 
 At the sound of steps approaching from the gangway 
 passing near; 
 And his clouded face looked brighter, and his troubled heart 
 grew lighter, 
 As the rich and hearty greeting of a comrade met his ear. 
 
 To that old and dear companion, fond and faithful Edward 
 Mannion, 
 Who had toiled for years beside him, hidden from the 
 light of day, 
 He now told how that sensation, filled his soul with con- 
 sternation. 
 Till his coming and his greeting chased the gloomy spell 
 away. 
 
 • 
 
POKMS AND IvYRICS 49 
 
 Soon commenced their daily labor, and that hand that bore 
 the sabre 
 Through the rushing tide of battle, in the wilderness afar ; 
 With a nerve as strong as ever, plied the drill without a 
 quiver; 
 While the friend, with racy vigor, piled the load upon 
 the car. 
 
 Plied he on that fated morning, till, without a moment's 
 warning. 
 The silent roof feel crashing on his now devoted head; 
 And that bosom friend bent o'er him, seeking vainly to re- 
 store him; 
 The spirit of the miner from its mortal home had fled. 
 
 And that manly heart lies sleeping, where new mounds are 
 daily heaping; 
 Freed forever from the burdens that oppress the man 
 of toil; 
 And that old and dear companion, the still faithful Edward 
 Mannion, 
 Weeps, and keeps, at times, a vigil o'er the grave of 
 Michael Doyle. 
 
50 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE VETERANS. 
 
 DEDICATED TO THE I43D PENNSYI.VANIA VOI<UNTEERS. ^ READlBY THE 
 AUTHOR AT HARVEY'S I.AKE, SEPTEMBER 5, I90I 
 
 Ye men of iron nerves and souls as brave 
 As ever fought to free the Nation's slave, 
 With loving hearts we greet you here today, 
 From scenes of death and conflict far away 
 Ye are the men that young and brave and true, 
 Left home and friends to don the coat of Blue, 
 The fearless hearts that would not, could not, yield, 
 Whose charge had swept the foemen from the field. 
 
 'Twas said by one who knew its horrors well. 
 
 Had passed through all its grades, that "war is hell.'* 
 
 Yet, well ye knew, who bore that flag afar, 
 
 That human slavery is worse than war, 
 
 To buy, to sell, to traffic in the blood 
 
 Of God's own image, brings to nationhood 
 
 A retribution for a wanton crime, 
 
 A sad atonement for the wrongs of time; 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 5^ 
 
 For this you marched and camped and drilled and fought, 
 Left on the death-roll names that glory bought, 
 Brought from the field where slavery went down, 
 A two-fold treasure, freedom and renown. 
 
 Think of the days at Gettysburg when you 
 
 First showed your valor in that fadeless Blue; 
 
 When, like a torrent fierce and strong you broke 
 
 Through lines of steel and rushed through fire and smoke, 
 
 While comrades fell and marked a bloody trail. 
 
 And you were left to face the deadly hail, 
 
 Till came the order, full and loud and clear, 
 
 While under fire, to change from front to rear; 
 
 And there you stood outnumbered three to one. 
 
 And there you bled and still kept fighting on, 
 
 "'Till once again rang out the clear command 
 
 That further back your line should take its stand, 
 
 And back you fell still firing in retreat, 
 
 Not broken ranks, not panic, nor defeat. 
 
 But steady motion keeping still in view 
 
 The foe's advance as wide his columns grew; 
 
 Tet, one remained, a gallant youth, who stood 
 
 Unawed, undaunted m that field of blood. 
 
 Stood like a Spartan in that hour sublime. 
 
 The fearless Jasper of a later time; 
 
 Heard not the order to retreat nor saw 
 
 Your bleeding ranks from battle line withdraw. 
 
 Immortal Crippen! there you proudly fell 
 
52 POEMS AND I^YRICS 
 
 Grasping the colors you had loved so well; 
 And there De Lacy, vigilant and brave, 
 Echoed the call to rally and to save 
 That precious standard from the foemen's hands^ 
 That stood for right and still for freedom stands; 
 And dauntless Phillips rushed to where it lay 
 And raised it high and bore it safe away, 
 And ye were there, to guard it with your Uves, 
 And, here, that tattered ensign still survives. 
 
 Next in the Wilderness your lines were laid, 
 And there again your valor was displayed; 
 Alternate gains and losses marked its days 
 And deeds heroic thrilled the ranks to praise; 
 Once, there you stood, with ammunition gone. 
 Yet, yielded not, but kept the struggle on. 
 With steel, alone, you held the foe at bay 
 Till there, relieved, you bore your flag away, 
 And with supplies again to battle came 
 And won and lost and won, at last, your fame. 
 Fought ye, O men, throughout that long campaign,. 
 On ridge, in forest, valley, swamp and plain; 
 Fought ye for freedom, as but heroes fight. 
 Fought ye, O men, for justice and for right. 
 
 It is not freedom where but they are free. 
 Who rule by force or live by tyranny. 
 Nor, yet, where mortals draw the racial line 
 Without the sanction of the law divine; 
 
POKMS AND LYRICS 53 
 
 It is not freedom where not man is free 
 From all the shackles of a monarchy, 
 Where he must bow the head or bend the knee 
 To king or quee», to useless royalty; 
 It is where he, the citizen, can stand 
 The peer, by law, of any in the land. 
 Where creed or race no edict can enthrall 
 With equal rights within the reach of all; 
 This is the freedom that our land has won, 
 A glory brighter than the mid-day sun. 
 
 Ye rulers of the climes, ye men of might, 
 Whose swords are drawn in some ignoble fight. 
 Give to the man of every land and race 
 Whatever hue has settled on his face; 
 Those rights divine, coeval with his birth. 
 For he, like you, is more than time or earth; 
 He is your brother molded by the hand 
 That gave you life, and will from you demand 
 Those rights and liberties to man so dear. 
 Which you have trampled in your mad career. 
 
 Gray locks are yours, O victors of the Gray, 
 And thinned the ranks you muster here, today. 
 Yet, you are still the heroes, one and all, 
 That rushed to battle at your country's call, 
 With hearts as brave as when you met the foe 
 In those historic regions long ago. 
 From year to year your glories are renewed. 
 
54 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 For, you have won the Nation's gratitude; 
 
 And you will leave a legacy of fame 
 
 To those you love, to each an honored name. 
 
 Praise be to God that he who wore the Gray, 
 
 Is in the Nation's solid ranks today; 
 
 That hate and strife are buried in the past 
 
 And we behold this happy day, at last, 
 
 May Union flourish in the light of peace 
 
 And love and joy and harmony increase. 
 
 Till all are summoned to the last review, 
 
 And heaven's own anthem^s greet the Gray and Blue. 
 
POEMS AND I.YRICS 55 
 
 THE nOTHER OF GOD. 
 
 My theme is Mary, the Mother of God, foretold as the 
 mystic bride; 
 
 The mortal, exalted above the hosts that heaven had glori- 
 fied; 
 
 The woman, the mother, the virgin spouse, the refuge to 
 whom we flv; 
 
 The creature beside the Ifinite, the highest, but God, on 
 high. 
 
 She sees the shepherds adore her child, by the voice of an 
 angel sent; 
 
 The Magi who came with precious gifts, from a clime of 
 the Orient; 
 
 She hears of the angels' song of joy at the birth of the 
 Infant King, 
 
 And knows that the choirs of heaven and earth will, in con- 
 cert, His glories sing. 
 
 The flight from the home of Nazareth to the land of the 
 
 classic Nile, 
 Where a people adored the sun and moon, the ox and 
 
 the crocodile. 
 
56 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Was sad and slow, for, by lonely ways and rugged and 
 perilous, too. 
 
 The fugitives toiled through weary leagues till the pyra- 
 mids rose to view. 
 
 And they dwelt in that land of dynasties, the mother, the 
 
 spouse and Child, 
 And poverty, want and toil were there, with the chosen of 
 
 God exiled; 
 And pity and grief and love combined, for the mothers of 
 
 Galilee, 
 Whom the sword had pierced when it smote their young, 
 
 the martyrs of infancy. 
 
 And there they abode till the angel came and bade them 
 
 arise and go 
 To the land of their race, to Israel, whose tyrant was lying 
 
 low; 
 For he, who had sought the life of the Child, was cold in 
 
 the grasp of death. 
 And they rose and left the Egyptian clime for the home of 
 
 Nazareth. 
 
 Again, in the land of their dearest ties, in that sanctuary old, 
 
 Did they of the house of David abide, the first of the hal- 
 lowed fold, 
 
 Till Joseph, the spouse, was called away from that circle 
 of peace and love. 
 
 And mother and Son were left to do the will of the Father, 
 above. 
 
POEMS AND I^YRICS 57 
 
 Then came the time when the Son of Man went forth to 
 
 redeem and save 
 Humanity's Hfe from the doom of sin, by the word, the 
 
 cross and the grave, 
 And multitudes heard from His sacred Hps the message He 
 
 brought to man; 
 His miracles saw, divinely wrought, when His mission on 
 
 earth began. 
 
 The lepers were cleansed, the blind could see, and the pal- 
 sied could rise and walk; 
 
 The sick were healed, the deaf could hear, and they that 
 were dumb could talk; 
 
 And spirits, unclean, vv^ere cast out of man, and grief was 
 assuaged and pain, 
 
 And the dead came forth from the grave and shroud when 
 summoned to life again. 
 
 And the loaves and fishes were multipHed, and the multitude 
 
 was fed 
 On the two-fold fruits of the miracle, a type of the *'Liv- 
 
 ing Bread;" 
 And the storm obeyed the Nazarene, and He walked on 
 
 the troubled sea, 
 And He taught the lesson of peace to man, the wisdom of 
 
 charity. 
 
 Yet, they scourged and mocked the Holy and Wise — that 
 
 Son, O Mary, of thine. 
 Whose life was an epic of holiest deeds, of light and of 
 
 love, divine; 
 
58 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 And they put Him to death, that Man of God, that Man — 
 
 God, humble and meek, 
 And loud and deep, and in horror sublime, did the voice of 
 
 nature speak. 
 
 For darkness spread o'er the face of the sun and people 
 
 beheld, in awe, 
 A mid-day night as the stars shone forth, and they trembled 
 
 at what they saw. 
 When the rocks were split by the earthquake's shock — nor, 
 
 yet, did the drama close: 
 "The veil of the Temple was rent in two," and saints from 
 
 the tomb arose. 
 
 And they fled in terror, who there had stood, derisive, un- 
 pitying. 
 
 For they knew by those signs miraculous that He was their 
 God and King, 
 
 Who, nailed to the Cross, in His agony, besought the Fa- 
 ther to spare 
 
 The scoffers who knew not what they did, when they 
 mocked and reviled Him there. 
 
 And, Mary, the mother, beheld that scene — the death of the 
 
 Crucified; 
 Saw the rabble there, heard the cries that rose, in mockery, 
 
 at her side, 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 59 
 
 And her soul was filled with voiceless grief as she gazed 
 
 on His pallid face, 
 For He was her Son, and that Son was God, the Light of 
 
 the human race. 
 
 Yet, she bore that pang, for she knew that He, in that 
 
 bloody sacrifice. 
 Had crushed the head of the serpent vile— the tempter in 
 
 paradise ; 
 That the legions of hell were hurled back to the depths of 
 
 their destiny, 
 That man was redeemed, and his soul could soar to the 
 
 realms of ecstasy. 
 
 And it came to pass that the Son of Man, the victim of Cal- 
 vary, 
 
 Arose from the dead at the time foretold, by the tongues 
 of prophecy, 
 
 And the mother, again, beheld in life, the Victor of sin and 
 death, 
 
 Her Son, the Messiah, her God, her all— the glory of 
 Nazareth. 
 
 And her joy was great, and her grief was past, for the vic- 
 tory was won. 
 
 And the Church was founded on faith and love by the 
 Co-eternal Son; 
 
6o POEMS AND I^YRICS 
 
 And she saw Him ascend from Olivet, while stood the dis- 
 ciples nigh, 
 
 To that throne, above, at the Father's side, co-equal with 
 Him, on high. 
 
 And years rolled on and the Virgin dwelt on the shore of 
 a distant clime. 
 
 Where the Church had spread its dimless light and its mys- 
 teries sublime; 
 
 Yet, though she rejoiced in the vineyard's growth and the 
 land was rich and fair. 
 
 She longed for the hills of Palestine, for the steps of her 
 Son were there. 
 
 Again, did she breathe in the Holy Land, in that sanctified 
 
 retreat, 
 Enhanced by the glory she there had seen, the light of 
 
 the Paraclete; 
 And her work was done, for her hour had come, and Peter 
 
 was there and John 
 And James, the just, and others who walked in the ways of 
 
 the Holy One. 
 
 And they wept in sorrow, for she was their queen, their 
 
 counselor and guide. 
 The spouse of the God of their land and race, whom her 
 
 soul had magnified; 
 
POEMS AND I^YRICS 6 1 
 
 And they heard the angels' canticles as Jesus her spirit bore 
 To the bosom of God, her place of rest, her glory for ever- 
 more. 
 
 Not her spirit, alone, enjoys that bliss, the presence of God, 
 
 beside. 
 For her body assumed from earth below, is with it and 
 
 glorified; 
 And she pleads for us, sinners, with Him, her Son, who 
 
 holds the celestial rod, 
 And mercy and grace abundant flow at the plea of the 
 
 Mother of God. 
 
62 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 GENERAL SHERIDAN. 
 
 I.INES ON THE PROPOSED MONUMENTS TO GENERAI, PHII, SHERIDAN, 
 INCr^UDING OTHERS ON COURT HOUSE SQUARE. 
 
 Son of a proud and gallant race, 
 We greet thy monument in place 
 With others on that classic ground, 
 An inspiration all around. 
 Our city's pride as there they stand, 
 Embodied glories of the land 
 That here are symbolized in art 
 As tributes of the land and heart 
 To war's famed leaders and the led — 
 Our country's cherished, deathless dead. 
 
 The Nation's noblest, greatest son, 
 The grave and stately Washington, 
 Is figured there, serene in stone. 
 Wrapped in a glory all his own. 
 Above the rulers of his time. 
 In courage, faith and hope sublime. 
 As soldier, statesman, brave and wise, 
 He saw but with the Nation's eyes. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 63 
 
 For he had known her hopes and fears, 
 Her struggles through the gloomy years 
 Her vigils for the coming light 
 Of Freedom, through that dreary night, 
 Till full and clear and brilliant, too, 
 It burst like sunshine on the view. 
 
 And v;e will guard that gift with care, 
 
 So bright, so beautiful and rare, 
 
 'Tis ours in all its vivid glow, 
 
 Tis more than Greece or Rome could show 
 
 With all their triumphs far and wide. 
 
 Their art, and lore, and classic pride, 
 
 'Tis more than Europe ever gave. 
 
 In all the past to serf or slave. 
 
 Nay, more than man had ever won 
 
 Before the days of Washington. 
 
 Nor must we here forget that he, 
 
 The patient son of Italy, 
 
 Whose name is heard in every clime, 
 
 Whose deeds are glorified by time. 
 
 Abides in shape upon that Square, ; 
 
 Historic now, and bright and fair. 
 
 With finger pointing to the land 
 
 That rose to greet his little band. 
 
 His soul is filled with joy to know 
 
 That there, where science bade him go. 
 
64 • POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 And motives higher, hoHer sill, 
 
 That bore the light of God's own will — 
 
 Above the ocean, deep and vast, 
 
 He sees the long sought prize at last. 
 
 Cheers from the deck ring o'er the deep, 
 The sailors dance and shout and weep 
 And greet the Chief, the guide and sage 
 That, through the weary pilgrimage, 
 Stood Hke a rock, unmoved by fear. 
 And held his course though long and drear, 
 Till, anchored in that topic sea, 
 His voice is heard in jubilee. 
 
 ':. The land is reached, the goal is won, 
 
 Without the aid of sword or gun; 
 Spain's ensign floats upon the air, 
 Colum.bus plants her standard there, 
 And, kneeling on that friendly shore, 
 He names the place San Salvador. 
 
 In molded bronze are typified 
 Thy fearless dash, thy gallant ride, 
 The steed that bore thee fast and far 
 And plunged thee in that scene of war; 
 That won for thee immortal fame, 
 The highest rank, the proudest name, 
 A glory that not time could bring 
 To Consul, Emperor or King, 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 65 
 
 Whose hosts their swords to empire gave, 
 
 For thine is freedom to the slave. 
 
 No braver m.ortal ever wore 
 
 A nation's sword, or stood before 
 
 Her marshaled legions in review 
 
 Than thou, O Soldier of the Blue. 
 
 No prouder day hath freedom known 
 
 Than that on which thy voice alone 
 
 Rang out in thrilling tones and high, 
 
 And nerved thy troops to fight and die. 
 
 To face again the tireless foe 
 
 That but for thee would overthrow 
 
 Thy whole command and sweep the vale 
 
 As fiercely as an ocean gale, 
 
 Destructive in its speed and might, 
 
 Or wild tornado at its height. 
 
 Aye, but for thee that closing day 
 
 Would see thy columns far away, 
 
 Defeated, routed and dismayed. 
 
 And Freedom's message long delayed. 
 
 Full well we know that but for thee, 
 
 That changed defeat to victory. 
 
 The slave would longer wear the chain, 
 
 And longer would injustice reign. 
 
 Nor yet the end. The Nation still 
 Hath need of thee, O Gallant Phil. 
 Thou matchless leader of the raid. 
 In whose wild dash are heroes made; 
 
66 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Thou idol of the camp and field; 
 In danger's hour thy country's shield. 
 Twas not to conquer and enslave 
 A people noble, true and brave 
 Thy sword was drawn, but in the cause 
 Of equal rights and equal laws. 
 That he, the man of darker hue, 
 Might stand like thee, a freeman, too; 
 That peace and union, hand in hand, 
 Should be the watchword of the land. 
 
 ' ; And peace has come, and union, too. 
 For we have seen the Gray and Blue 
 March in the same unbroken line 
 As brave as that old corps of thine, 
 Against the hardy troops of Spain, 
 And freedom follow in their train. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 67 
 
 THE SISTERHOOD OF GOD. 
 
 Lights and shadows on our pathways as we journey towards 
 
 the goal, 
 Hopes and fears and joys and sorrow ding, alternate, to 
 
 the soul. 
 Grief and tears and love and pity mingle with our lives and 
 
 blend, 
 Smiles and frowns, and praise and censure cheer or sadden 
 
 to the end. 
 
 Is not wealth a potent lever to uplift from toil and care? 
 Is not fame a compensation for the miseries we bear? 
 Both deceptive and delusive when we seek but them alone, 
 In the realms of saints and angels earthly glories are un- 
 known. 
 
 They are gathered in the cloister, highest types of woman- 
 kind. 
 
 Who have left the world's allurements and its noisy scenes 
 behind. 
 
 There, their solemn vows are plighted to the Trinity on high, 
 
 There, they live like choirs angelic, there, in sanctity, they 
 die. 
 
 What is wealth to that meek sister who, within her quiet cell. 
 Sees but Him who spoke prophetic to the woman at the 
 well? 
 
68 POESM AND LYRICS 
 
 What, to her, is fame, whose chaplet is a rosary of tears? 
 Who has drank from God's own chaHce through a Htany 
 of years. 
 
 Oft, beneath that simple habit all the graces are enshrined. 
 
 Music, painting, song and science in their varied lights com- 
 bined; 
 
 For from halls of highest culture went they to the cloister's 
 shade, 
 
 Who now worship at the altar where their precious gifts are 
 laid. 
 
 Teach they little ones the lessons that but love can inculcate, 
 Store they youthful minds with knowledge that befits the 
 
 highest state. 
 Show they others, by example, how to conquer and subdue 
 All of earth, in human longings, all of pride and folly, too. 
 
 Go they forth to works of mercy counselled by the Son of 
 
 Man, 
 Pouring balm upon the wayside like the Good Samaritan, 
 Seek they where, beside a pallet, sits a fond and faithful wife. 
 Watching, weeping, hoping, praying for a dear, devoted life. 
 
 Care they for the poor and homeless, old and weak with 
 
 them abide. 
 Gather they to light and shelter whom the world had cast 
 
 aside. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 69 
 
 Calm they troubled hearts and weary when the hour of 
 
 death is near, 
 Guide they, to the gates of heaven, souls repentant and 
 
 sincere. 
 
 Leave they footprints on the desert, live they by the Ganges' 
 
 side. 
 Sing they where the Orinoco bears its commerce to the tide, 
 Lift they souls in adoration where the Child and Mary dwelt. 
 Kneel they, too, in supplication where the Man of Sorrows 
 
 knelt. 
 
 Stand they where the sick and wounded from the battlefield 
 
 have come. 
 Pale and bleeding, lacerated by the canister or bomb, 
 Breathe they words of hope and comfort as they smooth the 
 
 fevered brow. 
 In the light of love and mercy they are more than mortals 
 
 now. 
 
 Shrink they not from where the leper wears his blighted life 
 
 away; 
 Dread they not the clime of danger where idolatry holds 
 
 sway. 
 What is death to them, the plighted, in the service of the 
 
 Lord^ 
 Whether life, on earth, is ended by disease or by the sword? 
 
70 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Love and praise and benediction win they from the old and 
 
 young, 
 Art has typified their labors, poets have their glories sung; 
 Wreaths are theirs, entwined in Heaven, like the bloom on 
 
 Aaron's rod. 
 Patient, humble, kind and gentle are the Sisterhood of God. 
 
POKMS AND LYRICS 7 1 
 
 OUR VALLEY. 
 
 When Campbell wrote of famed Wyoming Vale 
 
 He little thought that in the course of time 
 Wilkes-Barre, Pittston, Scranton, Carbondale, 
 
 Would rise so fair from out the rock and slime, 
 Yet, here they are in all their native pride, 
 
 Such as the poet might in fancy see, 
 So closely, too, in kindred aims allied 
 
 That time may make them one in destiny. 
 
 Bound by the ties of commerce and good will. 
 
 Of blood and brotherhood so close at hand. 
 Why should not they this fertile valley fill 
 
 With all the arts that flourish in the land. 
 Here have we coal, abundant, cheap and clean, 
 
 With water pure, exhaustless in supply, 
 Along our streets and in our homes are seen 
 
 The varied lights that cheer the social eye. 
 
 In search of charms, the artist here can find 
 Scenes that invite the chisel, brush and pen, 
 
 Those in the glade, the grove and glen enshrined, 
 And these that daily greet the eyes of men. 
 
 A valley wide, luxuriant in bloom, 
 A noble river flowing on its breast. 
 
 Art, here can find its own, abiding room 
 And grow in harmony with all the rest. 
 
72 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Here, too, are solitudes for those who love 
 
 The quiet shade beyond the city's strife. 
 Where they can muse and lift their thoughts above 
 
 The things of earth, the vanities of life, 
 Or, where the poet may his theme pursue 
 
 In silent pleasure and in calm delight, 
 Where he can weave the beautiful and true 
 
 In fadeless colors, rich and fair and bright. 
 
 One scene alone, in this enchanting vale 
 
 Might win from art the tribute of renown. 
 As in its place above the flood and rail 
 
 It watches o'er the valley up and down. 
 Guarding the pass where flows the river by. 
 
 With massive front and visage grim and bare 
 Stands Campbell's Ledge, precipitous and high, 
 
 A giant sentinel on duty there. 
 
 O vale of beauty, what a theme is mine! 
 
 Could I but sing of thee as bards have sung, 
 How bright to other eyes thy brow would shine. 
 
 How sweet thy praise would sound on every tongue. 
 Yet I can only say I love thee still, 
 
 And I would see thee win by enterprise 
 The place, the rank thy energy should fill, 
 
 The fame in art and lore that never dies. 
 
POHMS AKD LYRICS 73 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 You who possess earth's choicest fruits, remember 
 
 The helpless poor that in your midst abide; 
 'Tis now the icy, keen and bleak December, 
 
 When human wants and cares are multiplied. 
 Yet, 'tis a time of gladness and rejoicing, 
 
 When heaven and earth with joyful anthems ring; 
 For men and angels on this day are voicing 
 
 Their glad hosannas to their Infant King. 
 
 Yes, 'tis a day of joyous adoration. 
 
 Where'er the light of Christian Faith is spread; 
 The natal day of Him who brought salvation 
 
 To fallen man, and crushed the serpent's head. 
 The young and old exchange their happy greetings, 
 
 And gifts in season, pass from hand to hand; 
 While friends rejoice in long expected meetings, 
 
 And merry chimes are heard throughout the land. 
 
 Home is, today, the place above all others 
 
 Of mirth and joy and sympathetic cheer; 
 For, here are met the sisters and the brothers 
 
 In fond reunion, at the closing year. 
 Here, too, old age is cheered by youth's devotion 
 
 And loves to muse on retrospective joys; 
 Here, happy parents smile in glad emotion. 
 
 As childhood revels in it^ latest toys. 
 
74 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 But there are hearts by land and sea divided 
 
 From homes they love and sigh for, far away, 
 Where they first heard of that lone star that guided 
 
 The Magis' steps to where the Infant lay. 
 In those fond hearts abides the recollection 
 
 Of Christmas joys in climes remote and dear; 
 And sorrow comes to mingle with affection 
 
 That yields to home the tribute of a tear. 
 
 We miss, perhaps, some dear familiar faces 
 
 That beamed with smiles but one short year ago. 
 
 And as we gaze upon their vacant places 
 The heart dissolves and tears begin to flow. 
 
 Thus pass we on through life from joy to sorrow; 
 One moment gay, the next to grief resigned; 
 
 We laugh today, with those we weep tomorrow; 
 I And leave, in turn, our mortal cares behind. 
 
 But let us cast aside all grief and sadness. 
 
 And greet this hallowed birthday as of old, 
 When our young hearts were full of joy and gladness. 
 
 And thrilling stories 'round the hearth were told. 
 'Twill bring us back to those departed pleasures 
 
 And make the heart with old emotions glow ; 
 For 'mongst the dearest joys which memory treasures 
 
 Are those of Merry Christmas long ago. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 75 
 
 HONESTY. 
 
 Give me the man of honest heart 
 
 Who spurns the tempter's gold; 
 Who trades not in the sordid mart 
 
 Where men are bought and sold; 
 Who shuns with high, abhorrent soul, 
 
 The mercenary throng; 
 Whose vote no party can control; 
 
 Who lives a foe to wrong. 
 
 What cares he for the proud man's scorn, 
 
 The hireling's servile pen; 
 To win his bread by labor, born, 
 
 He ranks with honest men. 
 What needs he more? What higher aim 
 
 Within life's narrow span? 
 'Tis more than wealth, or rank, or fame, 
 
 To be an honest man. 
 
 Who sells his vote betrays a trust 
 
 Confided to his care ; 
 Degrades his manhood to the dust. 
 
 And tramples on it there. 
 
76 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Nor less is he debased, who buys 
 
 A vote for any cause; 
 Whether to aid an enterprise, 
 
 Or make a nation's laws. 
 
 Ah! would that men would spurn the gold 
 
 That tempts them to betray 
 A cause they proudly should uphold, 
 
 Though death were in the way. 
 Far better seek a destiny 
 
 Remote, obscure, unknown, 
 Than win, by fraud or perfidy, 
 
 A fortune or a throne. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 77 
 
 THE CRACKER BOY. 
 
 Up, in response to the whistle's shrill warning, 
 
 Clad in a tattered garb, dusky and grim. 
 Goes he to work in the red light of morning — 
 
 Mammon and pride have no pity for him. 
 Poor little Cracker Boy! cold inhumanity 
 
 Dooms thee to toil ere thy childhood is o'er; 
 Greed, like a wolf, in its grasping insanity, 
 
 Feeds on thy life blood and hungers for more. 
 
 Taken from school ere his course is half ended, 
 
 Sent to the breaker where danger is rife; 
 There, in its gloom, his young strength is expended; 
 
 There is he dwarfed in the morning of life. 
 Poor little Cracker Boy! martyr to want and greed. 
 
 Who thy sad destiny tearless can sing? 
 Parents at home, in the depths of their woe and need. 
 
 Crave for the pittance thy labor can bring. 
 
 At times may be heard in the dim dusty breaker 
 The shriek of a youthful heart wasted and worn, 
 
 As the soul of the Cracker Boy flies to its Maker, 
 Out from its mortal shrine mangled and torn! 
 
78 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Poor little Cracker Boy ! sad is thy history ; 
 
 Weary, but brief, was thy pilgrimage here; 
 Earth, to thy soul, is no longer a mystery 
 
 Thou are at home in a happier sphere! 
 
 You whom the people have placed in high station, 
 
 You who are gifted with eloquence rare, 
 Pity the woes of this child of the nation, 
 
 Plead for the little one, ragged and bare ! 
 Poor little Cracker Boy! when will humanity 
 
 Shield and protect thee from merciless greed. 
 Rescue thy soul from a wretched inanity. 
 
 Lift thy young life out of sorrow and need? 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 79 
 
 THE ANGELS OF EARTH. 
 
 Angels are not all in Heaven, 
 
 Some are with us here on earth, 
 Sharing in our joys and sorrows. 
 
 On the wayside, by the hearth, 
 They are with us, they are near us 
 
 In the battle scenes of life; 
 And they aid us and they cheer us 
 
 In the conflict and the strife. 
 
 There are angels in the cloister, 
 
 Where those gentle ones abide, 
 Teaching others by example, 
 
 How to conquer human pride. 
 And from out its depths they reach us 
 
 With a message from on high, 
 And they guide us and they teach us 
 
 How to live and how to die. 
 
 And the angels of the household, 
 Full of laughter and delight; 
 
 With a thousand occupations, 
 
 From the morning's dawn till night- 
 
8o POEMS AisT> LYRICS 
 
 How they win our deep affections 
 By their artless, busy ways, 
 
 Till our fondest recollections 
 Are of childhood's happy days. 
 
 And the poor have many angels, 
 
 Like the sunshine, bright and gay; 
 Spreading light and joy around them. 
 
 Chasing gloom and grief away. 
 And they make life's burdens lighter 
 
 For the dear ones at their side. 
 And the homes are fairer, brighter. 
 
 Where those happy souls abide. 
 
 But the poor have other angels. 
 
 Sadder, of a graver mould. 
 Those who suffer and repine not, 
 
 Bearing hunger, want and cold; 
 Patient in their tribulations, 
 
 Hopeful of a brighter day, 
 Found in all earth's generations. 
 
 Thus they live and pass away. 
 
 And in the halls of wealth and fashion. 
 Where earth's choicest gems abound; 
 
 There are angels meek and humble. 
 Loved, and loving all around. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 8 1 
 
 And their hearts are full of pity, 
 
 And their hands are full of gold, 
 For the outcasts of the city. 
 
 For the helpless, young and old 
 
 There are angels in the cabin 
 
 By the forest, on the moor; 
 On the vast, unsheltered prairie, 
 
 In the homes of rich and poor, 
 In the palace full of treasures. 
 
 In the hovel grim and bare. 
 There are priceless joys and pleasures — 
 
 There are angels everywhere. 
 
82 POEMS AIsD LYRICS 
 
 TWILL cone AS SURE AS DAY. 
 
 'Twill come as sure as light and life 
 
 Have come from God's right hand; 
 'Twill come to end the nation's strife, 
 
 The freedom of our land. 
 Though bitter hate and tyrant might 
 
 Its advent may delay^ 
 From out the long and dreary night 
 
 'Twill come as sure as day. 
 
 'Twill come as came another light 
 
 To Erin, long ago, 
 When Patrick stood by Tara's height 
 
 Enveloped in its glow, 
 And British rule, like Pagan rite, 
 
 Must yield and pass away, 
 For freedom, clear and strong and bright, 
 
 Will come as sure as day. 
 
 Our martyrs have not died in vain; 
 
 No blood was ever shed 
 For Faith or land but rose again 
 
 Like incense, from the dead. 
 No voice was ever hushed in death 
 
 By tyranny's decree. 
 But found again a potent breath 
 
 To plead for liberty. 
 
POBMS AND LYRICS 83 
 
 Long have the Saxon and the Celt 
 
 A deadly conflict waged. 
 Where once a happy people dwelt, 
 
 Destructive war has raged. 
 Oppressor and oppressed have stood 
 
 In battle's grim array, 
 By Liffey's tide and Shannon's flood 
 
 And Hudson far away. 
 
 And yet the struggle is not o'er. 
 
 The ranks are still arrayed 
 In hostile lines as oft of yore; 
 
 The Celt still undismayed. 
 But pen and tongue now supersede 
 
 The swords of former days, 
 And wisdom's light is sure to lead 
 
 To higher, nobler ways. 
 
 Already has the Briton felt 
 
 The pressure of our race. 
 In every land the willing Celt 
 
 Stands ready in his place. 
 The war of centuries must cease 
 
 And might must soon give way 
 To freedom., harmony and peace 
 
 And right, as sure as day. 
 
8 4 POEMS AKD LYRICS 
 
 A SONG OF LABOR. 
 
 God labored when He set in space 
 The sun and stars and planets, all, 
 And gave to each its fittest place, 
 To each, its orbit, large and small, 
 And when creation's work w^as done, 
 And kingdoms o'er the earth had spread, 
 He gave to us His only Son 
 Who won by toil His "daily bread." 
 
 And thus is labor sanctified 
 By Him, the Lord of light and love. 
 Who toiled in Nazareth and died, 
 That man might live with Him, above. 
 
 It is a universal law 
 
 That man shall cultivate the soil, 
 
 And, from the earth its treasures draw 
 
 By all the varied arts of toil; 
 
 That he shall labor to the end 
 
 With brain or hand, with pen or tongue. 
 
 Nor cease his empire to extend 
 
 Till Time's last requiem is sung. 
 
POKMS AND LYRICS 85 
 
 Whether in workshop or in mine, 
 Above the earth or in its breast, 
 The rights of labor are divine, 
 The Sabbath is it's day of rest. 
 
 Let Capital and Labor go 
 Along life's journey, hand in hand, 
 That both in harmony m.ay grow, 
 And spread contentment o'er the land. 
 May each its mission, here, fulfill, 
 And each the other's rights maintain. 
 And peace and concord, and good will, 
 And song and joy, forever, reign. 
 
 For this, O brothers, let us pray. 
 While here we labor side by side, 
 That wrong and hate shall pass away, 
 And right and love with us, abide. 
 
66 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE BARD'S DEAD SPOUSE. 
 
 Wert thou but here, O love of mine, departed. 
 
 Here at my side. 
 Where I am laurel-crowned, yet, broken-hearted. 
 
 With tears undried. 
 Thou wouldst rejoice, and I would share thy pleasure, 
 
 Thy rapture, now. 
 With this, the wreath of fame — the long sought treasure 
 
 Upon my brow. 
 For, I have won the prize I longed for, dearest, 
 
 And hoped to wear, 
 When thou, the fondest, fairest, closest, nearest, 
 
 My joy wouldst share. 
 But thou art gone and I am left to sorrow 
 
 And sigh for thee; 
 To face, again, another bleak tomorrow. 
 
 In agony. 
 What, now, to me, is all this jubilation, 
 
 This grand display? 
 This laurel wreath, this crown, this coronation 
 
 We hold today? 
 Wert thou not more to me than all the glory 
 
 That time could bring? 
 Than all the melodies in songs or story, 
 
 That I could sing? 
 
POEMvS AND LYRICS 87 
 
 For earthly honors are but decorations 
 
 That charm the eye; 
 Less than our dreams, our hopes, our aspirations, 
 
 They fade and die. 
 Bereft of thee, the home is dark and dreary — 
 
 The hight is gone. 
 The day is past and I am sad and weary, 
 
 A lonely one. 
 There is no joy without a fringe of sadness 
 
 In earth's domain; 
 There is no grief but through it hope or gladness 
 
 Will shine again. 
 There is, we know, a balm, a consolation, 
 
 A peace in love, • 
 
 For those who bow in pious resignation 
 
 To Him, above. 
 There is, with thee, no sadness nor repining, 
 
 O spouse of mine! 
 On thy sweet face God's light is ever shining, 
 
 And bliss is thine. 
 'Tis hard to bear the pang of separation, 
 
 When life is bright; 
 To see, around, but gloom and desolation, 
 
 A cheerless night; 
 To hear no more the gifted voice that thrilled me 
 
 To ecstasy; 
 To see no more the happy smile that filled me 
 
 With love for thee. 
 
SS POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Yet I would not to earth, again, recall thee, 
 
 From that abode. 
 Whatever grief, whatever ills befall me. 
 
 Whatever load, 
 I bow submissive to the Hand that bore thee 
 
 From earth away, 
 As thou wouldst bow had I but gone before thee 
 
 To blissful day. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 89 
 
 THE VIOLIN. 
 
 Ive played that dear old fiddle, that hangs, silent, on the 
 
 wall, 
 At bridal feast, at country dance, at banquet, and at ball; 
 I've kept the merry dancers on their feet till break of day, 
 And pressed it fondly to my heart when all had gone away. 
 
 They've changed its name of long ago, but, O, they could 
 
 not change 
 The lyrics of a thousand years that lie within its range; 
 For, like an angel's voice, it thrills the very soul within, 
 That rich old fount of melody — the m.atchless violin. 
 
 What wondrous eloquence is thine, old friend of by-gone 
 
 years! 
 What ecstasy is in thy chords, what pathos, and what tears! 
 The songs of joy are there enshrined, the melting dirge is 
 
 thine, 
 When touched by fingers soft and light thy music is divine. 
 
 Not m.ine the master hand to sway the human heart, at will, 
 With spell of thine, wrought by thy bow, with true magician 
 
 skill; 
 I can but wake thy lighter strains — those sim.ple airs of old — 
 That, still, through all Hfe's moving scenes, our deep affec- 
 tions hold. 
 
90 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Who loves not music cannot know the sweetest joys of time; 
 It thrills the air in every land, 'tis heard in every clime; 
 It lifts the soul to higher thoughts, above the cares of earth, 
 ^Tis rapture in that spirit land where, first, it had its birth. 
 
 I love the harp that David played to soothe the troubled 
 
 Saul; 
 Its kindred, too, of varied chords are sweet, in concert, all; 
 The organ loud and deep in tone, my sympathy can win, 
 But give me, first and best of all, the grand old violin. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 9 1 
 
 THE DEAD. 
 
 l.et us sit on that tombstone over there 
 
 And look at the graves that are close around, 
 
 Some are the mounds of the young and fair 
 That sleep in the depths of this hallowed ground. 
 
 There is the grave of a little child, 
 Family dove of those charming days, 
 
 Face like an angel's, happy and mild. 
 Lovely and sweet in her artless ways. 
 
 Loved she to play in the garden shade 
 
 And chase the chicks that had gathered there, 
 
 So full of life was this busy maid 
 
 With the laughing eyes and curly hair. 
 
 Her dust is there in that bed of clay. 
 
 All that remains of the fairy queen. 
 But while we are sitting here today, 
 
 Away up in heaven sings Angeline. 
 
 IL 
 
 See where the flowers were scattered in bloom. 
 Tributes of sorrow and love for the dead. 
 
 That is the grave of a maiden with whom 
 The life and the joy of a home have fled. 
 
92 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Passed she her days in life's busiest sphere, 
 Moulding and training the young in her grade. 
 
 Thinking not, dreaming not, death was so near, 
 Heaven so close to her, light in the shade. 
 
 So faithfully toiling with hand and brain, 
 So patiently guiding with brain and hand, 
 
 The physical wear and the mental strain 
 
 Were more than that delicate heart could stand. 
 
 Left she the scene of her labor and care, 
 Bore she its love as she passed out of sight, 
 
 Sought she repose in that home over there, 
 Found it in death and ''perpetual light." 
 
 Family worshippers there at her side. 
 Lovingly, soothingly, tenderly kind, 
 
 She was their dearest one, she was their pride; 
 Love, light and melody there were combined. 
 
 O the weary days and the sleepless nights. 
 The tossing, the moaning, the burning hand 
 
 Have wasted her strength, yet, she bravely fights 
 For the life that was noble, true and grand. 
 
 'Tis vain, for the film is on her eyes. 
 
 She sees not her mother, the Hght is gone. 
 
 And there in that homestead a martyr dies, 
 The zealous, the good and the kindly one. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 93 
 
 Others are fighting the battle of Ufe, 
 
 Women as zealous and noble as she, 
 Winning their bread in this world of strife, 
 
 Patient and gentle as mortals can be. 
 
 III. 
 
 There is the grave of a gifted divine, 
 
 One of earth's noblemen, gone in his prime, 
 
 But, the work he has done like a spreading vine, 
 Will cling to and grow in the light of time. 
 
 Scholar, philanthropist, cultured in art, 
 Skilled in philosophy, clear and profound, 
 
 Knowing his way to the penitent's heart, 
 Spreading the light in his mission around. 
 
 Student and teacher and critic in lore, 
 
 Classical, eloquent, graceful, refined. 
 His wisdom and zeal and the gifts he bore 
 
 Are seen in the work he has left behind. 
 
 Ever the look of good will on his face. 
 
 Ever the smile that but pleasure could wear, 
 
 The humor that ever came forth in place. 
 The wit that was racy, brilliant and rare. 
 
 The voice that was musical, rich in tone. 
 
 Is heard in the joy of another clime, 
 The laugh with a melody all its own. 
 
 Will ring not again in the days of time. 
 
g4 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Affable, courteous, gentle and kind, 
 
 Loving and loved he has left us too soon, 
 
 Gone with the lights and the treasures of mind^ 
 He was the people's own Soggarth Aroon. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 95 
 
 THE BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 Let the boys of the city have room to play 
 
 Away from the dusty or muddy street, 
 Where dangers beset them in every way 
 
 That eyes, or ears, or limbs can meet. 
 There are places within the city's bounds 
 
 Where flowers are cultured in every hue, 
 And art, only, reigns — those embellished grounds. 
 
 Where boys might, in season, their sports pursue. 
 
 Throw open the school grounds one and all. 
 
 Ye men, who were boys in the olden time, 
 Keep the boy with his marbles, top and ball 
 
 Away from the pathways of vice and crime; 
 What are terraced lawns and beds of flowers 
 
 And all that beauty that greets the eye, 
 To the body and soul of that boy of ours — 
 
 That image of God as he passes by? 
 
 What is all the wealth that the rich enjoy. 
 
 Or all the treasures of gold and art, 
 To the life and love of that busy boy. 
 
 The sunshine that plays round the mother's heart? 
 
96 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 We can sound the deep where the coral grows, 
 We can tell the height of the air above, 
 
 And soar to the stars, but God only knows 
 The measureless depth of a mother's love. 
 
 To you, O men of the Board of Control, 
 To you, O Councilmen, too, we pray. 
 
 Give park and lawn to the body and soul 
 Of that future man with his toys today. 
 
 He has claims that cannot be set aside. 
 
 He has rights that cannot be long delayed; 
 
 "Tis you, O good mortals, that must provide 
 ^ A place for his gambols in sun and shade. 
 
 'Tis not for the pleasures of boys, alone, 
 
 'Tis not for the brothers, alone, we plead, 
 The sisters — the girls have rights of their own. 
 
 As many and clear as the boys indeed. 
 Keep the girl away from the crowded street. 
 
 Where dangers to body and soul abound. 
 Let her sing and play where the eye can meet 
 
 But scenes that uplift, in the peoples' ground. 
 
POKMS AND I.YRICS 97 
 
 OUR TEACHERS. 
 
 Old Twenty-Nine, thy day is past, 
 The longed for hour has come at last, 
 For, we are here to dedicate 
 Another glory to the State, 
 Another laurel to its fame — 
 This noble pile that bears thy name, 
 V/ith higher aims and grades than thine, 
 Another fairer Twenty-Nine. 
 
 Next to the man ordained to preach, 
 Is he, whose mission is to teach. 
 To train, to mold, to guide the young. 
 To educate the hand and tongue 
 Is more than wealth in land or gold. 
 It multiplies a thousand fold, 
 For, light will spread and time will show 
 How far the teachers work can go. 
 
 We know it is the teachers' part. 
 
 To cultivate the mind and heart, 
 
 To guard his precious charge with care, 
 
 That evil may not enter there. 
 
98 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 To teach morality and show 
 
 How knowledge grows and ought to grow, 
 
 And by example point to youth, 
 
 The ways of honesty and truth. 
 
 Full well the teacher knows that he 
 Is but the parents' deputy, 
 That he shall render to the Lord, 
 A strict account of deed and word 
 Within the precincts of that place 
 Where, as a soldier, he must face 
 An earnest work, and rule and drill 
 With patience, judgm.ent, care and skill. 
 
 What is a nation's proudest boast? 
 What should a people value most? 
 The wealth, the fame that commerce brings; 
 Its pageantry; its line of kings? 
 No, Shakespeare is to England more 
 Than all her wealth from shore to shore, 
 Than all the monarchs she has known 
 Since Alfred sat upon her throne. 
 
 \ And Webster, Lincoln, Washington, 
 
 And Franklin, Clay and Jefferson 
 Are more than all our stocks combined, 
 Or dividends of every kind; 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 99 
 
 We know the lessons they have taught, 
 Their Hves — the battles they have fought 
 With pen and sword, to win and hold 
 The priceless legacies of old. 
 
 Who thinks of Roman commerce now? 
 Is Cincinnatus at the plow 
 Not more than all the proud display 
 Of Rome's triumphal holiday? 
 Is he — the first of Caesar's line. 
 Who bore his legions to the Rhine, 
 Not m.ore to man with classic pen. 
 Than conquerer of hordes of men? 
 
 Are Virgil, Cicero, not more 
 
 In thought and style, to men of lore, 
 
 Than all the conquests Rome had made. 
 
 And all her martial hosts arrayed 
 
 To spread her empire and subdue 
 
 The German, Gaul and Briton, too? 
 
 Are not her classics more than all 
 
 Her sword had won from Goth or Gaul? 
 
 And Homer and Demosthenes, 
 And Phidias and Pericles 
 Have won for Greece the highest name 
 Inscribed upon the roll of fame, 
 
lOO POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 I'^or art, and eloquence, and song, 
 And they, in all their pride, belong 
 To us, as to the land that bore 
 Those men, those paragons of yore. 
 
 And there was One of Galilee, 
 The Man-God of the Trinity, 
 Who taught the multitudes of old, 
 That peace and love are more than gold. 
 He is our Teacher and our Guide, 
 The Son of God — the Crucified, 
 Who brought the light and truth to man, 
 And was, before the world began. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS lOI 
 
 FREEDOM. 
 
 Is not a martyr, he who falls in Freedom's sacred cause? 
 Who bravely stands for equal rights upheld by equal laws; 
 Is not his grave a hallowed one who for a brother dies, 
 When life and love and liberty demand the sacrifice? 
 
 Why should we press to other lips the cup we would not 
 
 drink? 
 Why deem it wrong for other men to think not, as we think,. 
 Who hold that they of every race, of every zone and clime,. 
 Are heirs to right and liberty through all the years of time. 
 
 Tis slaves that make the tyrant's yoke, and forge the chains 
 
 that bind 
 Their lives to lowly servitude and aid their foe to grind 
 Their very hearts to earth and dust that he may revel high 
 In pride and pomp, and all the glare that plundered wealth 
 
 can buy. 
 
 See how the gallant Boer has flung the gauntlet in her face,. 
 Whose hand would crush his Spartan soul, enslave his stal- 
 wart race; 
 In song, in drama and in art, will live for evermore. 
 The fame, the glory he has won, of one against a score. 
 
I02 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Soon may that flag on castle height, above my native land, 
 Find brave and strong, to tear it down, another right "Red 
 
 Hand;" 
 Soon may our Island's race proclaim that they, and they, 
 
 alone, 
 In all the glow of freedom's light, their motherland shall 
 
 own. 
 
 Who gives to Czar or Emperor, to King or President, 
 The right to hold, by force, in thrall, a land of discontent? 
 Not He, who changed, at Cana's feast, the water into wine; 
 Nor king, nor queen, nor prince, nor lord is there by right 
 divine. 
 
 Freedom and peace to men on earth, good nature and good 
 
 will, 
 Should glow on every mountain side, and every valley fill. 
 May nations link in bonds of love and every tribe and clan. 
 Uphold the "Fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of man." 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS IO3 
 
 THE CITY OF SCRANTON. 
 
 Here, in the City of Scranton, 
 
 Here, in this picturesque vale. 
 Guarded by bulwarks of nature, 
 
 Sheltered from tempest or gale 
 Live we a vast congregation. 
 
 Gathered from every clime; 
 Proud of the Flag of our Nation, 
 
 True to its mission sublime. 
 
 Here in this valley of diamonds. 
 
 Here in this beautiful vale. 
 Keep we the anthracite glowing, 
 
 Keep we the light on the rail. 
 
 Here, in this City of Scranton, 
 
 Built we of wood and of stone, 
 Changed we the aspect of nature, 
 
 Made we her treasures our own; 
 Built we the store and the mansion. 
 
 Reared we the church and the school, 
 Gave we to labor expansion — 
 
 Here does humanity rule. 
 
104 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Here, in the City of Scranton, 
 
 Reared we the church and the school, 
 
 Gave we to labor expansion — 
 Here does humanity rule. 
 
 Here, in the City of Scranton, 
 
 Marvels of brain and of hand 
 Cover the face of the valley, 
 
 Clothe and embellish the land. 
 Arts do we foster and nourish, 
 
 Sciences, here, we unfold; 
 Here does philanthropy flourish. 
 
 Here do we never grow old. 
 
 Here, in the City of Scranton, 
 Justice and Right we uphold ; 
 
 Here does philanthropy flourish. 
 Here do we never grow old. 
 
POKMS AND LYRICS IO5 
 
 ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 YoUFxg, brave and true, within the dock he stood, 
 
 Facing the ermined jurist in his seat, 
 The brutal judge that thirsted for his blood, 
 
 Whilst he, erect, undaunted, on his feet, 
 Poured forth a flood of eloquence, sublime. 
 
 Rich, clear and racy, vigorous and grand. 
 An inspiration crystallized by time 
 
 To all who would for right and freedom stand. 
 
 There, in that dock surrounded by his foes, 
 
 He quailed not, shrank not from the grim array. 
 But voiced to earth his country's wrongs and woes, 
 
 In tones that held the servile court at bay; 
 In words of fire that still inflame the soul 
 
 And nerve the hand to strike for liberty, 
 He showed the tyrant in her wicked role. 
 
 Her wanton waste of life, her perfidy. 
 
 And there she sits unmasked before our gaze, 
 With guiltless blood still dripping from her hands 
 
 Her face the mirror of her evil ways, 
 
 A glutton, gorged with spoils fromx other lands; 
 
I06 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Not drooping, like a weary, listless crone, 
 
 Pressed by the weight of years upon her brow. 
 
 But ogre-like her visage here is shown, 
 Dark, fierce and sullen as we see it now. 
 
 How well he knew her long career of crime, 
 
 Her blighting rule, her infamies he knew. 
 And knew that, never through the course of time. 
 
 Could she the spirit of his land subdue; 
 For he well knew the courage of his race, 
 
 And saw that she, the Island of his birth. 
 Would rise, unfettered, yet, and take her place 
 
 Amongst the proudest nations of the earth. 
 
 And he was doomed to die a traitor's death, 
 
 By her, the sceptered of relentless hate. 
 But though her mandate stilled that living breath, 
 
 His country's muse has glorified his fate. 
 In strains immortal as his deathless name. 
 
 His life, his love, his eloquence is sung, 
 And far and wide is spread the growing fame 
 
 Of him who died so gifted and so young. 
 
 More potent he within that silent tomb 
 That bears no epitaph, nor mark, nor sign. 
 
 Than when, with all life's energies in bloom. 
 He stood for Right, eternal and divine. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 iP7 
 
 For he is cherished for the Hfe he gave 
 To land and race, to human brotherhood, 
 
 And love and pity mingle at the grave 
 
 That holds his ashes and the martyr's blood. 
 
 And they will v/rite his epitaph in stone, 
 
 Beneath a shaft uplifted high in air. 
 Who, yet, will call his native land their own, 
 
 With freedom's ensign floating, proudly, there. 
 For there will come a day of jubilee, 
 
 And peace and joy her sorrows will efface. 
 And bards will sing in thrilHng melody, 
 
 The fadeless glories of the Irish Race. 
 
I08 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 FATHER JOHN. 
 
 The world is onward gliding 
 
 Towards the final of its day, 
 And the old and young are sliding 
 
 From its surface to the clay. 
 The chosen friends of manhood 
 
 Are fleeting, one by one; 
 But few so dear have left us 
 
 As the gentle Father John. 
 
 The vocal strains high swelling. 
 
 That thrilled to every core 
 Within the sacred dwelling. 
 
 Are hushed for evermore. 
 The vision's light is vanished. 
 
 And the cheerful smile is gone, 
 And the bosom friends are weeping 
 
 O'er the grave of Father John. 
 
 Had you seen him meekly kneeling 
 
 In his long soutane and stole, 
 With his lifted eyes revealing 
 
 All the fervor of the soul; 
 You would surely say, kind Heaven 
 
 Had poured its light upon 
 The mild and radiant aspect 
 
 Of the pious Father John. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS IO9 
 
 The midnight hour oft found him 
 
 Towards his mission, on the road, 
 With the dreary scene around him, 
 
 Till he reached the sad abode. 
 Where the parting soul had cherished 
 
 The fond hope to linger on, 
 Till its peace with God was settled 
 
 By the aid of Father John. 
 
 When the healing words were spoken 
 
 And the spirit fled secure. 
 He woiild leave behind a token 
 
 Of his friendship, to the poor. 
 He was full of christian feeling, 
 
 And kind to every one; 
 Like an angel in the parish, 
 
 Was the zealous Father John. 
 
 The world is onward stealing 
 
 Towards the last, approaching day 
 And lonely ones are kneeling 
 
 O'er their kindred in the clay, 
 The friends of youth and manhood 
 
 Are fleeting one by one; 
 But few so dear have left us 
 
 As the cherished Father John. 
 
no POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE DEAD CHILD. 
 
 Just three years old — not more than three, 
 
 A tiny thing, about so high, 
 Yet he was dearer, far, to me. 
 
 Than all that wealth could ever buy. 
 I nursed him with a mother's care, 
 
 And watched him with a mother's love, 
 But angels longed to have him there, 
 
 Where all is light and bliss, above. 
 
 And, O, I prayed that he might live. 
 
 That child, to me, so sweet and dear; 
 What would not I, of treasures give, 
 
 To keep my precious jewel here? 
 He was so gentle in his ways, 
 
 So beaut ful in face and mind, 
 That, though, on glory he may gaze, 
 
 He leaves a broken heart behind. 
 
 Yet, why not I rejoice that he 
 
 Is where affection never dies. 
 Though I would wish him here with me. 
 
 To close my dim and weary eyes. 
 God grant that I shall meet him there, 
 
 And, here, on earth, be reconciled. 
 To know, that he, so bright and fair, 
 
 Is there, in bliss, my darling child. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS III 
 
 WOULD THEY KNOW ME AGAIN. 
 
 Would they know me, again, in that dear old place 
 
 That was mine when my life was young? 
 Would they know the gray head and the furrowed face, 
 
 And the change in my boyhood's tongue? 
 Would they see in the figure now bending o'er, 
 
 The steps that are feeble and slow. 
 The youth they had known in the days of yore. 
 
 The playmate of long ago? 
 
 Would she of the face that was classic in mold. 
 
 The eyes that were crystal and blue. 
 Would she know the voice that had whispered of old, 
 
 The love that was fervid and true; 
 And heard from her lips the same words in reply. 
 
 That are treasured in memory yet; 
 Does she not remember the silent good-bye. 
 
 Does she the sad parting forget? 
 
 Would they know me at home if I stood at the door 
 With this time-worn stafif in my hand. 
 
 And spoke of the friends who could greet me no more,. 
 In the light of that far-ofif land? 
 
112 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Would they welcome me back to the old fireside, 
 
 And, tell, in its genial glow. 
 Of those who had sought other lands, or died, 
 
 Since I left there long ago? 
 
 I know not, but, ah, it would pain me to see 
 
 Not the loved ones of old, around. 
 Who had sat with me there when the world, to me, 
 
 Was that humble and holy ground. 
 For, a mother was there and her love was deep 
 
 For the child of her heart and dear. 
 And she left me a grief when she fell asleep. 
 
 That has lingered for many a year. 
 
 Ah, I could not go back to that home of old. 
 
 At the close of my life's career, 
 Though but for a day, when I could not behold 
 
 The faces that made it dear. 
 I will, here, abide, till my hour has come, 
 
 And pray that I, yet, shall greet 
 In the joy of that holier, happier home, 
 
 The dear ones I long to meet. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS II3 
 
 FROM WILKES-BARRE— LOOKING SOUTHWEST. 
 
 I've wandered far in days gone by, from Hudson's classic 
 
 side, 
 To where the Mississippi's flood rolls onward to the tide; 
 But never have I gazed upon a fairer, brighter scene, 
 Than that which now before me lies, majestic and serene. 
 
 The winding river's glassy breast, reflecting clear and nigh, 
 The mid-day sun, the passing cloud, the tranquil, deep, blue 
 
 sky, 
 The clustered groves along the vale, the grand hills far 
 
 away. 
 All, all excite a rapture in my very soul today. 
 
 O, there are charms of nature's mould, too bright, too grand 
 
 for art. 
 Hues that, like "gems of purest ray," are treasured in the 
 
 heart; 
 Such gifts are thine, O valley fair, such treasure here are 
 
 spread; 
 A thousand themes are in thy sphere, whose beauties are 
 
 unread. 
 
114 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Well might the Indian sigh to part from scenes so rich and 
 
 fair, 
 Well might he linger 'mid the bowers that perfumed all 
 
 the air; 
 Well might the red man's foes enjoy the prize their swords 
 
 had won, 
 Whilst he, the sad, despairing one, fled towards the "setting 
 
 sun." 
 
POEMS AND I.YRICS II5 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNQ LADY. 
 
 Pillowed for death, yet, unwilling to die, 
 
 Clinging to life with tenacity rare. 
 She of the dark and once luminous eye. 
 
 She of the face that an angel might wear. 
 Sinking to rest, to a dreamless repose. 
 
 Close to the end of life's early decline, 
 Hope in the heart of the maiden still glows. 
 
 Death is far off from that beautiful shrine. 
 
 Soon will she walk in the sunshine again, 
 
 Soon will she sit, with her books, in the shade. 
 There to commune with the authors who reign 
 
 In the realms of fiction and art undecayed. 
 There, too, to muse on that holier life 
 
 Which they of the cloister so meekly pursue, 
 Away from this world of sorrow and strife. 
 
 Its pride and its pomp and its vanities, too. 
 
 Friends seated there in that neat little room. 
 
 Breathing, in whispers, their hopes and their fears. 
 
 Watching her gliding away to the tomb. 
 Gliding away from this "valley of tears." 
 
Il6 POEMS AKD LYRICS 
 
 Watching the light that so soon will depart, 
 The light and the joy of that home of her birth, 
 
 Watching the pride of a fond mother's heart, 
 Passing away from the loved ones on earth. 
 
 Hears she the voice of the pastor whose hand 
 
 Set the first seal of the Church on her brow, 
 Hears that her time is but short in the land, 
 
 Knows that, from earth, she is vanishing now. 
 Longs she no more for the walk or the shade. 
 
 Longs but for rest in that Heaven above ; 
 Thinks not of fiction or art undecayed, 
 
 Thinks but of God and His infinite love. 
 
 Hushed is the voice of the dear one, at last, 
 
 Still is the heart ever gentle and kind, 
 Gone is the light of that home in the past, 
 
 Sorrow and sadness and gloom are behind. 
 Ah, ye well know where the beautiful lies. 
 
 Friends of the gifted one modest and fair; 
 She of the dark and once luminous eyes, 
 
 She of the face that an angel might wear. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 1 17 
 
 THE IRISH CAUSE. 
 
 Let us aid the men of Ireland, exiled brothers of a race 
 Who have flung their gyves and fetters in the alien tyrant's 
 
 face; 
 Who now stand erect in manhood, in a solid, dense array, 
 Nerved by wrongs that cry to Heaven from the Nation's lips 
 
 today. 
 
 Nerved by ties divine and holy, love of country and of kind ; 
 Love that braves the dungeon's horrors and the martyr's 
 
 fate combined, 
 They, the landless and evicted, claim their birthright where 
 
 they stand; 
 'Tis a god-like inspiration, spreading light throughout the 
 
 land. 
 
 Never, since the Norman brigands raised their standard on 
 
 our soil, 
 Dawned a brighter, holier epoch for the trampled men of 
 
 toil; 
 Soon must pass away forever from the shores of Innisfail, 
 That vile system bred and nutured by the tyrants of the Pale. 
 
 Fast and far the light is spreading over mountain, hill and 
 
 vale, 
 Tis the dawning light of freedom from the Godhead to the 
 
 Gael; 
 
IlS POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 And he greets it with a rapture, with a reverent delight, 
 And invokes a thousand blessings on that grand and holy 
 light. 
 
 /Tis no longer serfs that gather round the tried men and the 
 
 true 
 Who have faith in Irish manhood and in Irish valor, too. 
 They who till the land should own it, is the creed that now 
 
 holds sway 
 Over city, town and hamlet in that martyr land today. 
 
 Landlords are the spav/n of conquest, parasites without a 
 claim 
 
 Other than the Normans gave them by the might of sword 
 and flame. 
 
 They must yield to God's own charter, in His laws to man 
 defined, 
 
 They must give to each his portion of God's bounty to man- 
 kind. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS II9 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 
 
 Gone from our longing gaze, 
 Gone in thy infant days, 
 Child of the winning ways, 
 
 Treasure divine. 
 Gone from this life's career, 
 Gone to a brighter sphere. 
 Sweetest and fairest dear, 
 
 Rapture is thine. 
 
 Sinless and spotless dove. 
 Fondest and dearest love. 
 Thou art with saints above. 
 
 Blissful like them. 
 Tears shall no longer flow, 
 We are resigned below. 
 Heaven is thine we know. 
 
 Beautiful gem. 
 
I20 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 MEMORIES. 
 
 I remember old places, 
 
 Old scenes and old faces, 
 Old joys and old sorrows, old hopes and old fears. 
 
 Old sports that were pleasures, 
 
 Old books that were treasures, 
 Still prized as the choicest companions of years. 
 
 I remember the races. 
 
 The famed steeplechases. 
 Where horses and riders strove hard for the goal, 
 
 And the crowds there, excited. 
 
 Dismayed or delighted, 
 As the winner in triumph swept round the last pole. 
 
 Beside the old river, 
 
 That flows on forever, 
 A ball-alley stood like a giant of yore. 
 
 Till rude hands demolished. 
 
 Its wall and abolished 
 The game in that section — the pleasures it bore. 
 
 The foot ball, how dearly 
 
 We welcomed it, yearly. 
 And kicked, ran and jostled whenever we met, 
 
 And they who upheld it 
 
 And cheered it and yelled it. 
 Have kept their old places in memory, yet. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 121 
 
 I remember old playmates, 
 
 The merry and gay mates, 
 Long vanished from scenes to which memory clings, 
 
 And the teacher, kind-hearted. 
 
 Who, too, has departed, 
 And left but the sorrow that time ever brings. 
 
 And who could forget them. 
 
 Nor cease to regret them. 
 The friends that grew dearer as years rolled along. 
 
 Who wandered through ages, 
 
 In history's pages. 
 And made the night cheerful with story and song. 
 
 The songs and the stories 
 
 Of Ireland's old glories, 
 Her chiefs, and her bards, and her saints, far renowned, 
 
 And the ivied Round Towers, 
 
 In that dear land of bowers, 
 Where nature's soft beauties, enchanting, abound. 
 
 Perhaps while thus thinking. 
 
 With heart sad and sinking, 
 The playmates, and friends, and dearer one, still, 
 
 May, in heaven, be pleading. 
 
 In joy, interceding 
 For him. v/ho still treasures their love and good will. 
 
122 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE LAST LAY OF THE OLD LACKAWANNA BRIDQE. 
 
 [The author having dreamed that the old hulk which spans the 
 river at the west end of Lackawanna avenue had been removed to 
 make way for a new iron bridge, composed the following stanzas: 
 
 Hurrah! 'tis down, 
 
 Like Caesar's crovv^n 
 'Tis vanished out of sight forever, 
 
 That ghastly hulk 
 
 Of monstrous bulk, 
 That spanned the Lackawanna river. 
 
 Long, long it groaned, 
 
 And quaked and moaned. 
 And sobbed and throbbed with deep pulsations; 
 
 For grim decay 
 
 Had found its way 
 Down to its very low foundations. 
 
 No art could stay 
 
 That wide decay 
 That spread through all its combinations; 
 
 To human eyes 
 
 That "bridge of sighs" 
 Was past the aid of corporations. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 1 23 
 
 From year to year 
 
 It grew more dear, 
 As dearer ties were made to bind it, 
 
 And yet 'tis queer, 
 
 A thing so dear 
 Has left no tear or grief behind it. 
 
 No earthly light 
 
 Shone there at night, 
 To cheer and guide the passing stranger; 
 
 To find his way. 
 
 Filled with dismay, 
 He groped in darkness and in danger. 
 
 'Twas tempting fate 
 
 To v/ander late 
 Across that route from either section; 
 
 For there no voice 
 
 Made those rejoice 
 Who needed help or sought protection. 
 
 By city scamps, 
 
 Or reckless tramps, 
 Its darkest shades were often haunted; 
 
 It needed more 
 
 Than three or four 
 To walk together there undaunted. 
 
124 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 One gloomy night 
 
 A passing wight, 
 Felt there a chillness creeping o'er him; 
 
 For rotten posts, 
 
 Like sable ghosts, 
 Rose up in grim array before him. 
 
 He stood appalled, 
 
 Then shrieked and bawled, 
 And fled to shun a dark disaster; 
 
 At every post 
 
 He saw a ghost. 
 Which made him yell and speed the faster. 
 
 On, on he fled. 
 
 In haste and dread, 
 
 As mortals fly before the Pooka; 
 Till, late at night. 
 Still pale with fright, 
 
 He reached his hom.estead at Minooka. 
 
 Thus ends our lay 
 
 Of that old way. 
 Which kept the councils long debating; 
 
 'Tis gone at last, 
 
 'Tis with the past, 
 And we the new bridge are waiting. 
 
POKMS AND I.YRICS 1 25 
 
 ON DEATH. 
 
 Old hearts full of kindness, old heads wise and gray, 
 Old faces, long with us, are passing away; 
 Old friends still remembered — the playmates of yore- 
 Are gliding along to eternity's shore. 
 
 The young, too, are fleeting as tim.e passes on; 
 From homes of the fondest, the dearest are gone, 
 The prince and the peasant v/hose loved ones are fled, 
 Have sorrows alike as they weep o'er the dead. 
 
 How many sweet voices are hushed in the tomb, 
 How many bright faces are hid in its gloom, 
 How many sad mourners are weeping above 
 The clay that enwraps the miute objects of love? 
 
 How often the eye of affection is cast 
 On the spot where the dear one had breathed her last, 
 How fondly are treasured the tresses she wore. 
 How cherished, the music and laugrhter she bore. 
 
 '&■■ 
 
 In the depths of the heart there are fountains of love 
 That flow, but when touched by a Hand from Above. 
 And when death lays its hand on some fair one and true 
 Flows sorrow, like love, from its fountain there, too. 
 
126 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Yet, death is no tyrant; as mortals we die, 
 To live disenthralled with the angels on high, 
 To wear, after conflict with sorrow and sin. 
 The crown that but love and repentance can win. 
 
 Far away from this earth is the home of the blest. 
 Where the light is of God, and the soul is at rest; 
 Where joy everlasting and love intertwine; 
 That heaven we long for — that glory divine. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 1 27 
 
 DEAR OLD SWINFORD FAR AWAY. 
 
 You've asked me for a song, dear friend, 
 So I will to your wish attend, 
 And bring before your fancy's gaze 
 The cherished scenes of other days; 
 My mem'ry clings to one loved spot. 
 For sure, it ne'er can be forgot, 
 Where dwelt the happy and the gay, 
 In dear old Swinford, far away. 
 
 Yes; though a freeman here I stand, 
 My heart is with my native land; 
 W^ith all the pleasures of the past. 
 Too rich, too bright, too sweet to last; 
 With charms familiar to my m.ind. 
 With friends I've loved and left behind. 
 With all whose hearts were light and gay, 
 In dear old Swinford, far away. 
 
 Don't you remember? sure you do. 
 The old school house and play ground, too, 
 Where oft we sported with the "boys," 
 The partners of our early joys; 
 
128 POEMS AND I^YRICS 
 
 How quick the time would seem to pass. 
 While skipping o'er the trodden grass, 
 For then our hearts were light and gay 
 In dear old Swinford, far away. 
 
 How oft the deer park was the scene 
 Of manly sport upon its green, 
 The foot ball speeding through the air 
 Before some well-matched rival pair; 
 The crowd still cheering as they run, 
 The victor's shout: "The gory's won!" 
 O! those were happy times and gay 
 In dear old Swinford, far away. 
 
 But, ah! those merry times are o'er, 
 And we behold those scenes no more; 
 Our comrades now are scattered wide, 
 Our native town has lost its pride. 
 To wish or sigh is all in vain, 
 The past will never come again. 
 My eyes are dim with tears today 
 For dear old Swinford, far away. 
 
FORMS AND LYRICS 1 29 
 
 THE NATION'5 FLAG. 
 
 That flag that waved o'er vanquished foes 
 
 A hundred years ago, 
 When sterHng manhood bravely rose 
 
 And laid oppression low, 
 Now floats in triumph o'er the land 
 
 As gayly as of yore. 
 And freeman grasps the freeman's hand. 
 
 Beneath its stars once more! 
 
 While Europe groans beneath the sway 
 
 Of leagued, oppressive might; 
 And fettered millions sigh and pray 
 
 For Freedom's holy light; 
 Today Columbia proudly boasts. 
 
 She owns no serf or slave. 
 Protected by her willing hosts, 
 
 That flag shall ever wave. 
 
130 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 THE CHOSEN ONE. 
 
 I know not why I love you dear; I cannot tell you why, 
 Unless it is you care for me — there's something in your eye, 
 That tells me that your heart is mine, a loving one and true, 
 And this is why I think, my dear, my heart is there with you. 
 
 ■'Tis said we lose our hearts at times; I know it is the case. 
 For mine is gone beyond a doubt and yours is in its place; 
 And I will keep it safe and sound, and you will do the same 
 With that poor one that I have lost, but, guarded, till you 
 came. 
 
 'Tis yours with all its fondest hopes, 'tis yours forever, too, 
 For it can find no better place, my darling, than with you, 
 And I will treasure yours, my dear, within that happy shrine. 
 That thrills with rapture at the thought that you have taken 
 mine. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 13I 
 
 JOHN'S TOUR IN IRELAND. 
 
 You're going back to Ireland, John, 
 
 To wander for awhile 
 Amongst the fairest, grandest scenes 
 
 Of our historic Isle. 
 The friends of youth will greet you, John, 
 
 With welcomes warm and true, 
 For many in this exile's land 
 
 Have found a friend in you. 
 
 You'll sail from Queenstown harbor, John, 
 
 To Cork upon the Lee, 
 And hear, perchance, the Shandon bells, 
 
 Chime forth their melody. 
 Your thoughts will wander westward, John, 
 
 To these romantic dells, 
 Where you and I have often roamed, 
 
 And sung of Shandon's bells. 
 
 You'll drive to Blarney Castle, John, 
 
 And kiss the magic stone, 
 A feat that wins a priceless gift, 
 
 A treasure not unknown. 
 
1 3.2 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Yet many who have never seen 
 That land we call our own, 
 
 Are just as full of blarney, John, 
 As those who kiss the stone. 
 
 You'll next behold Killarney, John, 
 
 Whose lakes serene and grand, 
 Have been the theme of many a bard. 
 
 In that poetic land; 
 You'll ponder as you roam along 
 
 The fair romantic shore, 
 On glories that are vanished, John, 
 
 On scenes that are no more. 
 
 You'll journey on to Lim'rick, John, 
 
 On Shannon's classic side, 
 Where Ireland's Spartan daughters manned 
 
 The breach and proudly died; 
 Theirs was the true devotion, John, 
 
 Their courage was sublime, 
 They fought in Ireland's holy cause, 
 
 Their fame will conquer time. 
 
 You'll visit Tipperary, John, 
 Where sterling men and true 
 
 Have triumphed over Saxon gold 
 And British hirelings, too; 
 
POEMS AND I.YRICS 1 33 
 
 Long may they flourish to uphold 
 
 That flag without a stain, 
 That may yet wave o'er vanquished foes, 
 
 On Irish soil again. 
 
 You'll speed along to Dublin, John, 
 
 And there you wil behold 
 That classic pile within whose walls 
 
 A people's rights were sold; 
 No rival leaders there contend; 
 
 No statesmen there convene; 
 No voice to thrill the Nation's heart. 
 
 Is heard in College Green. 
 
 But there are men of Irish birth, 
 
 In many a distant clime. 
 That, ere another decade rolls 
 
 Along the course of time, 
 May gather round that capitol, 
 
 To hear a voice proclaim 
 The triumph of our sacred cause. 
 
 Its glory and its fame. 
 
 You'll visit scenes historic, John, 
 
 Within the city's sphere. 
 And give to that where Emmet died. 
 The tribute of a tear; 
 
134 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 You'll pass by splendid monuments 
 
 And statues old and new, 
 Which native zeal has proudly reared 
 
 To faith and genius, too. 
 
 You'll gaze on other m.onuments 
 
 And other statues, too, 
 Which slaves have reared to foemen, John, 
 
 As only slaves would do; 
 You'll feel that indignation, John, 
 
 Which others there have felt 
 At sights that are a mockery, 
 
 An insult to the Celt. 
 
 You'll wander through Glasnevin, John, 
 
 That city of the dead, 
 Where gems of native art abound 
 
 And choicest gifts are spread; 
 There many a gallant Irish heart, 
 
 That scorned the name of slave, 
 Lies cold and pulseless in its shroud, 
 
 Within an honored grave. 
 
 You'll see the Giant's Causeway, John, 
 Where men of wondrous might, 
 
 Piled up those columns high and close, 
 A marvel to the sight; 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 1 35 
 
 Though wise ones say they sprouted up 
 
 From deep volcanic fires, 
 And cooling, clung together, John, 
 
 Like ocean's cable wires. 
 
 You'll journey on through other scenes, 
 
 Romantic, fair and grand, 
 That, like the gems in ocean's caves, 
 
 Bedeck our native land; 
 You'll rest awhile amid those bowers 
 
 Where childhood's days were spent, 
 Before, to this free land again, 
 
 Your homeward steps are lent. 
 
136 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 A SCRANTONIAD. 
 
 A POETIC ADDRESS TO THE CITY OF SCR ANTON, WRITTEN BY AN OI.D 
 SETTLER, "DOWN IN A COAL MINE." 
 
 Thee, far off Canton, 
 I'll not descant on, 
 But, fair young Scranton 
 
 Of thee I'll sing: 
 Of scenes around thee, 
 The hills that bound thee, 
 And how I found thee 
 
 A tiny thing. 
 
 Of days baronial. 
 Or days colonial, 
 No testimonial 
 
 Has thou to show; 
 Nor can we find thee. 
 With deeds behind thee, 
 That would remind thee 
 
 Of long ago. 
 
 Where now thy coal mines 
 Yield wealth like gold mines, 
 Above these old mines, 
 So rich today, 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 1 37 
 
 The red man wandered, 
 
 Fought, chased or pondered, 
 Or idly squandered 
 His hours away. 
 
 When I first sought thee 
 With what I brought thee. 
 The hands that wrought thee 
 
 Were still on earth. 
 Fast to thy childhood 
 Qung swamp and wiidwood 
 Where snakes exiled could 
 
 Deplore thy birth. 
 
 Thy streets were nameless, 
 Thy laws were blameless. 
 And thou wert fameless 
 
 To sage or bard, I 
 
 Through thee the stranger 
 Might freely range, or 
 Secure from danger 
 
 Rest on the sward. 
 
 But like the spider 
 Whose web grows wider 
 As each winged glider 
 Becomes his prey, 
 
138 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Each proud, new mansion 
 Gave thee expansion, 
 And left thee staunch, on 
 The earth today. 
 
 But while I greet thee 
 Thus far beneath thee, 
 I would entreat thee 
 
 To ponder deep, 
 On what may bring thee 
 Despair, and sting thee 
 With grief, and wring thee 
 
 And make thee weep. 
 
 That City Charter, 
 Thou well migh'st barter, 
 For something smarter 
 
 From Uncle Sam 
 It is so plastic, 
 And so elastic. 
 That men sarcastic 
 
 Call it a sham. 
 
 Thy politicians 
 Are like magicians. 
 Whose quick transitions 
 Bewilder all. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 Such transformations 
 And fluctuations 
 Urge contemplations 
 That must appall. 
 
 In close alliance, 
 They bid defiance 
 To that fair science, 
 
 Economy. 
 But what most racks us 
 Is how they tax us 
 And grind their axes 
 
 In harmony. 
 
 But while they plunder, 
 Or tear asunder, 
 And trample under 
 
 The city's code, 
 It may distress them. 
 Perhaps oppress them. 
 That few will bless them 
 
 With such a load. 
 
 Another cancer 
 That needs the lance, or 
 Some great romancer 
 To paint its woes, 
 
 139 
 
I40 POEMS AND I^YRICS 
 
 Is that vile breeding 
 That's onward leading 
 Its dupes, unheeding, 
 To death's repose. 
 
 Those balls nocturnal, 
 Those fines diurnal 
 Those dens infernal 
 
 Where vice holds swa> 
 Thy laws neglected, 
 Gross frauds detected, 
 And thieves protected, 
 
 Thy shame display. 
 
 O dear, young city! 
 'Tis mine to pity, 
 And not grow witty, 
 
 O'er woes like thine. 
 To see each treasure 
 Yield its full measure. 
 Would thrill with pleasure 
 
 This heart of mine. 
 
 Did I not love thee. 
 Who art above me, 
 I'd not reprove thee 
 In such a strain. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 141 
 
 Nor shall I ever 
 Again endeavor, 
 To make thee quiver, ; 
 
 With grief or pain. 
 
142 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 MAN'S RIGHTS. 
 
 I care not where his lot is cast, 
 
 Within whatever zone or clime, 
 The man is heir to all the past, 
 
 To all the ''equal rights" of time, 
 White, black or red, 'tis all the same. 
 
 No bar to color or to race ; 
 We know from whence his charter came, 
 
 God's law is written on his face. 
 
 What, though unpolished, rude or wild. 
 
 Untutored in the arts of peace. 
 Is he not more — this savage child. 
 
 Than all the gods of Rome or Greece? 
 He is of earth, but not a clod. 
 
 He comes from where the race began. 
 He is, we know, a child of God, 
 
 And brother to the Son of Man. 
 
 Go teach all nations, saith the Lord, 
 And they have traversed earth around, 
 
 And brought to man the living Word, 
 Wherever human life is found. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 143 
 
 The light to all alike is given, 
 
 In barren waste or fertile sod, 
 For all are heirs, alike, to heaven, 
 
 Alike the image of their God. 
 
 Might not the proud, Caucasian race, 
 
 Lay war aside and peace uphold, 
 Uplift the man of darker face; 
 
 Cast in the same eternal mold; 
 Might not the laws of God prevail, 
 
 And here on earth His will be done, 
 Till all are summoned to the Vale 
 
 To meet His well-beloved Son. 
 
144 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 Old land of the Druid, the sage and the seer, 
 Of the Brehon and bard, of the wolf-dog and deer, 
 Of the temple and shrine, of the Crozier and ring, 
 Of the saint and the martyr, of thee will I sing. 
 
 What traditions are thine, what abundance of lore 
 
 Is found in thy lyrics and legends of yore, 
 
 How famed were thy cloisters, thy schools how renowned, 
 
 The light and the joy of the nations around. 
 
 And thy flourished till came the piratical Dane, 
 And the Norman who followed to slaughter and reign, 
 And the Tudors and Stuarts and Cromwells in line. 
 Who scourged or oppressed in that dear land of mine. 
 
 And the dark Penal days, and the laws that were made 
 To rob and to torture, to slay and degrade. 
 With the torch and the pitch-cap, the gibbet and gun, 
 The work of the brave Anglo-Saxon was done. 
 
 Who reads the sad page of our history knows 
 How brave were our fathers, how ruthless their foes, 
 How the Celt ever battled for freedom and right, 
 And clung to the Faith as he kept up the fight. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 1 45 
 
 The war is still on, for the Celt, unsubdued, 
 The struggle for freedom and right has pursued; 
 And the end will not come while a vestige remains 
 Of the rule still adorned with fetters and chains. 
 
 The thirst for dominion, for conquest and gold 
 Made tyrants or slaves of the nations of old. 
 And the empire that now tramples libery down, 
 Will sink to the dust without sceptre or crown. 
 
 Dismembered and crushed will she crumble away, 
 While her victims exult in her rapid decay. 
 Down, deep in the dust with the dead of the past, 
 Will her ashes, unhallowed, be gathered at last. 
 
 O Motherland, fair, ever faithful and true, 
 How well dost thou know what thy tyrant can do ; 
 How long hast thou borne in bitterest woe. 
 The slanders and taunts of thy merciless foe. 
 
 As long as thy night so thy day will be long. 
 As weak as thou art so thy arm will be strong. 
 As deep as thy grief so thy joy will abound. 
 As true to thy God so thy faith will be crowned. 
 
 Thy children will hail thee from every clime. 
 As the fairest and dearest of earth or of time, 
 And thy sun will not set nor thy glories depart, 
 While faith, love, and justice abide in thy heart. 
 
146 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 IRELAND IN 48. 
 
 Are we to bear this galling yoke 
 
 Forever and forever? 
 To tug incessant at the bonds 
 
 The sword alone can sever; 
 To face the foe with ''moral force," 
 
 Long tired and unavailing; 
 To let oppression take its course, 
 
 While hope and strength are faihng. 
 
 Are we to wear these fetters on 
 
 Forever and forever? 
 To live but as a conquered race 
 
 And strike for freedom, never; 
 To meet, to shout, to agitate, 
 
 Till tyrants call it treason; 
 To starve, to die, or emigrate 
 
 To friendly shores, in season. 
 
 With famine at our doors, shall we 
 
 Still cling to agitation? 
 And see our people pass away 
 
 By death or emigration? 
 
POEMS AND I.YRICS 147 
 
 Shall we still voice to other lands 
 
 Our woes and tribulations, 
 And list, entranced, with empty hands. 
 
 To eloquent orations? 
 
 Why boast we of those gallant sires. 
 
 Who live in song and story. 
 When we are passive in our wrongs, 
 
 Degenerate in glory. 
 Why point with pride to former days. 
 
 To Ireland's ancient glories. 
 Whilst we who sing their songs of praise. 
 
 Are ruled by Whigs and Tories? 
 
 Come, brothers, let us cast aside 
 
 This mockery forever, 
 And grasp the sword that swift and sure 
 
 These felon bonds will sever. 
 To meet the foe in battle line, 
 
 The time is now or never. 
 Then up — let might and right combine, 
 
 And strike her down forever. 
 
148 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 MUSINGS. 
 
 I am sitting, alone, at the old fireside, 
 
 Where I sat in the days of youth, 
 And heard from the lips of a mother and guide. 
 
 The lessons of love and truth. 
 I am thinking tonight how I mused of old. 
 
 When I dreamt of a happier time, 
 And fancied a future of fame and gold. 
 
 In the light of another clime. 
 
 I have wandered through sunny lands rich and fair, 
 
 To the realms of ice and snow. 
 Yet, I've never lost sight of the ''castles in air," 
 
 I built here, long ago. 
 The visions of youth that soar so high. 
 
 To the old may seem unwise. 
 For the pleasures we see with fancy's eye. 
 
 Are more than we realize. 
 
 Yet, we cannot look back from the setting sun. 
 
 To the light of early day. 
 Without a sad thought ere its course is run. 
 
 Of the splendor that fades away; 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS I49 
 
 And, thus, in the evening of life we sigh 
 
 As we think of its brightest glow, 
 And we look and we linger with moistened eye, 
 
 As we pass through the long ago. 
 
 The house is at rest and I ponder still 
 
 On scenes in those vanished years, 
 With their varied fortunes of good and ill, 
 
 Their seasons of hopes and fears. 
 And faces of dear ones, again, I behold, 
 
 And strains of soft voices I hear, 
 And I listen to stories of warriors bold, 
 
 And giants and knights without fear. 
 
 That future of fame and gold is past. 
 
 The loved ones of earth are gone. 
 And I, the long absent, am here, at last, 
 
 A sad and a lonely one. 
 O, dearer to me is that olden time. 
 
 With its friendship warm and true, 
 Than the gold I have won in a distant clime. 
 
 And the fame I had fancied, too. 
 
 Yet, I would not go back to those youthful days. 
 
 Endeared by a thousand ties. 
 To journey, again, through life's perilous ways, 
 
 Abounding in tears and sighs. 
 
150 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 I would rather abide in these closing years, 
 
 Awaiting, with tranquil soul, 
 The call from this exile of sorrows and fears, 
 
 To the rest and the bliss of the goal. 
 
 Though riches may vanish and friendship decay, 
 
 And greetings await us no more. 
 Though earth may seem cheerless when friends pass 
 away. 
 
 There is solace in art and lore. 
 There are treasures in bindings more precious than 
 gold. 
 
 Home pictures in light and shade, 
 Kind hearts and sweet faces that never grow old, 
 
 And glories that never fade. 
 
 I 
 Yet, dearer, and higher and holier, still. 
 
 Than art, or books, or lore. 
 Is that "peace on earth to men of good will," 
 
 Which the angels caroled of yore. 
 The skeptic may frown and the infidel sneer, 
 
 And the atheist scofif and deride. 
 But, the dearest of all that earth holds dear. 
 
 Is the love of the Crucified. 
 
 What is left to old age but to live in the past. 
 
 To travel with memory's light 
 Away from the dimness that round it is cast. 
 
 To days that were joyous and bright. 
 
POEMS AND LYRICS 1 51 
 
 But though we go back in the spirit of love, 
 
 To scenes that were merry and gay, 
 We still fix our gaze on those mansions above. 
 
 In the light of eternal day. 
 
 I am longing, again, at this old fireside. 
 
 For the light of another clime, 
 Where the saints and the angels forever abide, ' 
 
 Away from the sadness of time. 
 There are beautiful souls on earth I know. 
 
 Remote from its din and strife. 
 And places I love — yet, I long to go 
 
 To the peace of an endless life. 
 
M)"}. 
 

 
 
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