Book. JJJM^ Copyright N^ COPWIGHT DEPOSIT. ^eptimu0 dinner Cogitations of a Cranfe at W^ttt &core gcar0 and %tn -IBp- g)epttmu« Wiinntx autl)or of "Ei0tfn to tlie a^ocking 251tH" •• i^oto fetent arc t^e Ko^e^, Ctc" 1903 Miilliam C. Clafffiorn PllUatielp^ia THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies Received JUN 6 '903 I Copyright Entry iuSS a XXc. No. COPY B. Coppriffliteli 1903 p^iladelp^ta PrinteB bp tlje Dresel TBiODIe ©rega Contentg OBmotional Pastoral Lptical Cpnical Satirical InciDental 2Dcca0ionaI ironical Sentimental This little volume is presented to you, not as a literary production of great merit, but as indica- tive of the thought and temperament of a man who has done much to impress his individuality on a past generation. It has been said of the author "that while his verses are frequently crude, yet time and time again, in their simple earnestness, they appeal to the affections and emotions of a multitude of his countrymen." g)eptimu0 aXKinner Septimus Winner, the author of the follow- ing pages, and composer of "Listen to the Mock- ing Bird," that charming bit of melody which has become as much of a "Folksong," as anything the United States has turned out, was born in Philadelphia May ii, 1827. When still a boy, circumstances brought him to the Wyoming Valley near Wllkes-Barre, and it was while living there that young Winner un- doubtedly obtained that love for Nature which became one of the ruling passions of his life. He has spoken of his early days among the farms, of midnight rides across the hills, and of hunting parties penetrating far into the Poconos. and across the Indian trails which at that time traversed the mountains. The moonlight shining over the hills, the deep, dark shadows in the val- leys ; the verdant green of summer, and the white coat of snow in winter, each touched a responsive chord in his gentle, vibrant nature. When he became of age, and his ambitions called him to take up the battle of existence in the cities, he naturally turned to the sympathy of music for his life work. His first effort at song- writing was issued in 1850, under the title "How Sweet are the Roses." His greatest success, "Listen to the Mocking Bird," was composed in 1852. &rptimu0 dinner Unlike the business man of to-day he could not direct the energies of others, but depended upon himself in all his work. He would compose in solitude upon his vio- lin, transpose to the piano, write the words of his song, and then taking up his engraving tools, work far into the night, until the plates of his composition were complete. The next day he would present to the public through his own store, his work of the previous night. Such a distributing power had its natural limitations, and it was the copyrights which he had sold out- right that won for him renown. "Give Us Back Our Old Commander! Little l\Iac, the People's Pride," sung by one hundred thousand Union soldiers on the banks of the Po- tomac, and for three days echoing through the land, brought the heavy hand of power upon poor Winner's head. He like many another citizen sympathized with George B. McClellan, as a fel- low Philadelphian, when the displeasure of the Administration fell upon the General. McClellan had been deposed from the com- mand of the Army of the Potomac, had been restored to it after the ignominious failure of Pope at the second battle of Bull Run, and had not only shown at South Mountain and Antietam some of the qualities of a fighting general, but had thereby virtually saved the national capitol §)eptimu0 MLinmt from falling into the hands of the Confederates. Sep. Winner had not the sHghtest thought of disloyalty when publishing the song, and after- ward readily gave his assurance not to further encourage the circulation of the verses. A general order had been issued to the army prohibiting the singing of the verses, but the song, or rather the title, made a lasting impression on McClellan's sympathizers, and indeed, became a fixed part of our political vocabulary. Strangely enough this title was used as a rallying cry of the stalwarts of the Republican party, years after- ward, when they prosecuted their formidable can- vass for the nomination of General Grant for a third term in the Presidency. Curious enough it is that the words, "Give Us Back Our Old Com- mander," when applied to McClellan, meant trea- son, according to the Lincoln Administration, but became the highest proof of patriotism a few years later when applied to Grant. Another side of Sep. Winner's character is shown by his humorous melodies. Who is there who has not laughed at the plight of the Deutcher clamoring loudly : "Oh where! Oh where! ish mine little dog gone, Oh where! Oh where! Can he be? And then to find the missing animal, "With his ears cut short, and his tail cut long." Septimus Mlinner Or again, who has not been amused at the grad- ual decimation of the — "Ten little Injuns, going out to dine. One choked himself to death and then there were nine." And SO on until but one solitary representative is left "One little Injun, living all alone. He got married and then there were none." But here again is the good humored, and optimistic encore "Happy Injun couple, living by the shore, Raised a little family of ten Injuns more." Then in different vein the beautiful melodies, "I Am Dreaming of the Loved Ones," "Whispering- Hope" and "What Is Home Without a Mother?" Sep. Winner could play on alinost any mu- sical instrument, although excelling on none. His musical instruction books numbered over two hundred, for twenty-three different instruments, and his musical arrangements extended into the thousands. In the latter years of his life he was unable to recall the exact number of his composi- tions, or the assumed names under which they had appeared. Such names as "Alice Hawthorne," "Percy Guyer," "Mark Mason," "Paul Stenton," "Marion Florence," "Leon Dore" and "Apsley 10 ferptimus Cfllinnct Street," were all familiar to the past generation, and are but a few of the noms de plume repre- senting- his musical efforts. Sep. Winner for many years edited the mu- sical department of Peterson's Magazine, and wrote for Graham's Magazine when Edgar Allen Poe was editor, and was later an acceptable con- tributor to the "Poets' Corner" in the Sunday Press of this city. He was probably the oldest member of the Musical Fund Society at the time of his death, and had been connected with that organization for over fifty-five years. He held at various times the positions of secretary and treasurer of the Board of Music Trade, and director of the Mu- sical Fund. His music stores were long the fa- vorite haunts of singers and musicians, minstrels and the lovers of popular composition. Indeed, his sense of harmony and his intuitive sympathy with the thoughts and fancies of the plain people were sometimes productive of melodies that have touched the hearts of millions, and have survived the "works" of many a more pretentious com- poser. All honor, therefore, to Septimus Winner, and his "Mocking Bird," and all consideration for the posthumous edition of his poems, the "Cogitations of a Crank." 11 CojttatioiDS of a Cranfe at %^tet &core geatgs and Ctn *2ri8 m? Delisbt in reijer?, Miljile Jpancp'g farcatb, m? floating minC, Miafts o'er SmaQtnatians sea, ^0 fl?, anH leabe eaitt^'s scenes bet^inti. 13 emotional ^OD is the Architect of this vast world, With secrets that no mind hath yet un- furled, The glories of the firmament and land Are all creations of His mighty hand. Let him who dares to question such a power Strive to create some living thing, or flower ; Not even gold, the height of men's desire, Can they produce with elements and fire,- Nor motion that may prove perpetual As man's ambitious efforts never shall. Who taught the bird to build her cozy nest To give her coming offspring warmth and rest ? Who taught the beast to seek the cooling shade When torrid heats the sunny fields pervade? Who taught the lamb to know its mother's bleat When straying off with wild and truant feet ? These find the waters to allay their thirst. The best of pastures from the very first, Without the aid of man they feed and rest Where nature's hand provides that which is best. Tlie horse his keeper knows to well obey ; The dog will ever with his master stay; The kitten even plays in its delight And licks the hand that feeds it, day and night. They call this instinct, with a wise pretense, More worthy of acknowledged common sense. Who clothes the meadows in a garb of green Adorned with weeds of bright and vivid sheen. With buds and blossoms o'er the verdant patch No human hand can counterfeit or match ? IS emotional Yet man, offending man will still deny The Mighty One, who dwells, they say, "on high. The one who gives in mercy all his share In food and raiment, appetite and wear. Deluded mortal, thou doth need the rod, Or all through life unsatisfied to plod In thus denying thv creator God. $ a LITTLE anchor holds a mighty ship With strong, effective power in its grip, A tiny rudder guides its heavy form And brings it safely through the calm and storm. The love of God, deep seated in the soul The acts of man will govern and control ; And like the anchor keep in steadfast trim Through faith and grace, all confidence in Him. The love of Christ well settled in the heart (In His grand teachings if we take a part), Will, like the rudder, help us brave the storm Of passing life, or face without alarm. On Him we may confide with faith and trust. Well satisfied that He is truly just. The gods that heathen worship, wood or stone, Are only substitutes for one unknown. But yet in them we ever find regard For something higher than this world's reward. 16 emotional Trim well thy vessel then, with anchor set All ready to be dropped if danger's met. The one who lives with true becoming grace Shall find, at last, in Heav'n his resting place. What is the vessel then, with anchor lost, Or rudder gone, upon the waters tossed ? A wreck, indeed, to sink in sad distress With none to mourn or e'er her fate to guess. ^ ^ENEATH the stars there is no rest, For heavy hearts that are oppressed, Like that beyond the skv ; Then hope and wait 'til life is o'er And thou shalt reach that holy shore. Where pleasures never die. Then hope and wait 'til life is o'er And thou shalt reach that hoI\- shore. Beneath the stars there is no joy That sorrow cannot soon destroy As days and months pass on; ]jut far beyond, we all may find A home of rest for us designed. When earthly cares are done. But far beyond we all may find A home of rest for us designed. Beneath the stars, oh then prepare To take thy final journey there Where trials never come. 17 Cinvtional And when at last thy da3'S are o'er, Thy soul shall never suffer more, If Heaven is thy home. And when at last thy days are o'er, Thy soul shall never suffer more. ^ HEN life is sweet and all is well, When comfort fills our passing days, Forget not Him who giveth peace For "God is just" in all His ways. Tho' troubles rack the good at heart And sorrows long their shadows cast Oh rest assured, we may rejoice For "God is just," with peace at last. When life wears out with suft'ering pain And when the heart sinks in despair. Remember Him in that sad hour, For '"God is just," and seek His care. Tho' sin may thrive when life is gay And wickedness give some content, There comes a time, a fatal day. For "God is just," with punishment. When Death comes on with stealthy step Our future state we need not fear If we have lived a noble life, For "God is just," and ever near. 18 (Emotional |H Earth ! thy scenes are glorious to my soul, Thy many hues enchant me with their glow, And as the moments with their changes roll. Sweet is the rapture that I learn to know. Oh Life ! for thee alas, for thee alone How much do I endure of needless pain, But yet to Thee, Oh God, to Thee I own I have not turned imploringly in vain. To Thee, I look, and tho' with secret fear, I call upon Thy great and holy name, I feel that Thou art nigh me, ever here. To cheer me with Thy warm and sacred flame, What e'er the path Thou wouldst that I should tread, O God, induce me to revere Thy word, For in my Soul I know that Thou hath said, The prayer in true sincerity is heard. The bosom of the earth is soft as down. The silken sod a pillow fresh and sweet. The meadows fair, with daisies overgrown. Are ever welcome to my straying feet ; The sparkling waters as they dash along Make gladsome music to my listening ear. Oh, give me then, the voice to breathe a song Of praise to Thee, for all Thy favors here. Oh ! save me from the world's unwholesome ways. Guide Thou my footsteps to the source of bliss, Give me the tongue to sing Thy endless praise, The nature to enjoy a world like this ; And may the prayer that ever from my soul Is offered up, in secret hours, to Thee, AAvake Thy mercy, and insure the goal Of happiness thro' all eternity. 19 emotional OD is the Master of the universe, The great Creator of all living things. And man is but a mite exceeding small Who cannot deign to change one given law. He binds the waters with one mighty wall That frail humanity dares not remove. He sends the tempest with its awful force That none can check nor venture to obstruct. I gaze upon the earth about my path, And smile with pleasure on the varied scene, I see the Maker's mighty hand in all And lift my heart in earnest thanks to Him. The waters and the land spread far and wide, Yet not an acre claim I as my own, It matters not, no selfish grasping hand Can hide His handiwork from human eyes. The overlooking stars, that hang on high, Tell of the great Almighty's perfect power, They glisten as the diamonds of His crown And none can blot them from the arch of Heaven. I hear the songsters soaring overhead. Their cheerful music, 'neath the varied skies ; I see the splendid flowers about my path. And breathe their odor sweet, in ecstasy. What if the cultured garden be fenced in, The roadside and the meadows still must bloom ; The hills, the valleys and the woodlands yield A thousand beauties free to every soul ; The great Jehovah ever gives to man A multitude of blessings to enjoy, And he who cannot these appreciate Should not complain v/here others must rejoice. 20 (Emotional How great is God, how grand His perfect work! Far in the firmament bright worlds attest The grandeur of His deeds made manifest. We call them stars, which unto naked eyes Present the same unalterable show ; Yet men have learned through stud}' long and deep To know their forms and journey through the skies. But ah ! how vain, how fruitless is the search Of human minds, that seek to comprehend The ways of Him wdio rules their destinies. There is no spiritual instinct born In mortal flesh to understand our life ; There is no lens through which the soul can search, Or e'er discover aught that lies beyond; Our short existence ends as vapors lift And melt to nothing in the atmosphere ; We die untutored as we long have lived, In this respect no wiser than we were. 21 i^astoral I^astoral "Vjf WAXDERED along through the meadows 11 in springtime, I saw the bright daisies look up from the sod, The odor of blossoms, by light breezes wafted, Seemed telling the wonders and glory of God. They said unto me, after life had been wasted, I too should arise from my slumber at last, And clothed as an angel, rejoice in the glory That opens in heaven and closes the past. The pastures with buttercups many and golden Like banners were spread on the hills in the sun. The face of the earth seemed a pathway to heaven Left open and free, and denied unto none ; Like a sweet flowing alto the murmuring brook- let Sang low to the song of the bird in the tree. The clear blue of heaven came down on the waters That spread to a river and flowed to the sea. Again at the twilight as sunshine was fading I wandered away o'er the scene low and still, For a breeze from the north with a coldness per- vading Had blighted the earth with a breath blowing chin ; The buds were all blasted, the dewdrops were frozen. The blossoms were wasted, like snowflakes they fell ; I asked in my sorrow, if thus we should suffer, I waited in silence, for no one could tell. 25 Amid all the beauties and splendors of nature An oak, that was wither'd and dead to the core, With limbs that were barren, and mouldy, and rotten, Stood shadowless, motionless, blooming no more ; The light of the sunshine, the warmth of the zephyrs, Brought not to its branches the leaves as of yore ; With a heart full of sadness I said in my sorrow. That man cannot know why ye blossom no more. Its life was the shadow that fell in its season, But nothing immortal like man's with a soul, Whose rest is his sleep from death to awaken. In grand resurrection when ages shall roll. To this we are tutored, by parent and pastor, The savage and heathen, believe it as well. What matters it then to the scoffer and scorner. If he die like a beast, without heaven or hell. RAND trees ! companions in my solitude. How great thy presence in the lonely wood ; Thy lofty branches struggling to the sky And limbs out-stretching toward the light on high. 26 A thing of beauty waving overhead, With vigor in its Hfe and room to spread ; Its shade gives comfort both to man and brute When weary feet seek shelter at its root, Its swinging branches rock the birds to rest That seek their quarters for a cozy nest. A thing of beauty, in its fullest sense As every feature gives in evidence, Its golden fruit to ripeness comes at last, And offers unto man a sweet repast ; Its fallen leaves, wdien winter comes apace Protects the dewy sod from frost's embrace. And when its days are o'er and dead at last. It brings a sweet remembrance of the past. There is a language in the voice of trees, Go listen as they lift to kiss the breeze ; And sigh not ever when the heart is sad With their companionship to make thee glad. Sweet trees, what pleasure all may know and see Who choose to find in thee fond company. How slow the change that years unto thee bring, With Hfe renewed each sure and passing spring. We leave thy presence for another clime. And on return note not the change of time, Tho' friends and neighbors may have passed away, With other objects gone to sure decay, Thy noble features like the hills around With nature's beauties and her charms abound. How cold the heart that finds not true delight Beneath thy branches when the day is bright; Go seek the woods when sorrows may intrude, Enjoy the rapture found in solitude. 27 Pastoral O rest awhile within the quiet wood, And watch the beetle seeking for its food, The wily chipmunk leap from tree to tree, Forgetful of its own timidity. The busy ant, with burden toiling on, Providing for some future day anon. The cheerful bird with song from bough to bough, In fearless flight the high, suspicious crow, The katy-did, the locust all unseen, With constant voice make vocal all the green. The shady brooklet with a gentle tone Goes singing on through regions dark and lone, The merry cricket chirps to its desire With heavy bass the frog joins nature's choir. The modest violet and many flowers That bloom in season thro' the passing hours. And make the lonely spot a paradise. A pleasure for the heart and smiling eyes : These are the charms that nature's hand prepares For those who in their hearts her bounty shares. And yet withal the music of the birds, The voice of insects, sweeter far than words, The gentle rustle of the leaves to hear Is dearer far, unto the list'ning ear. 28 pastoral O. tiny ant, I would not crush tliee, no ! Thy hfe is all to thee, as mine to me ; Whatever service to the earth thou art. He who created us, the secret knows. I watch thee gather substance to maintain That little form, so wonderfully wrought— And know the Master made thee not in vain, But for some hidden purpose brought thee forth. And why should I destroy thee when the hand So mighty in its power, bid thee live. Sing on, sweet bird, fear not my presence here, I would not harm a feather of thy wing ; It is a joy to have thee hover near, A perfect pleasure, but to hear thee sing. What were the lonely woods to rove among Without thy sweet companionship and song. O cruel man that thou shouldst e'er destroy The fondest gifts that nature hath bestowed; Ah, thoughtless maids, why should'st thou deign to wear Such precious plumage to assert thy pride. One tuneful warbler hidden in the leaves Gives joy to him whose ear the song receives, A score displayed for ornament or show Yields not the charm, one living, can bestow. "A sparrow falleth not" upon the sod Without the notice of its maker — God : In Holy \\'rit, this truth is plainly told. And holdeth good, as in the days of old. 29 ^9^ UK dead leaves fall, and one b}- one ^ Are wafted far at ev'ry turn; Through naked limbs the autumn sui Shines down upon the faded fern ; The spring is gone, the summer o'er, And yet the air is fresh and sweet, For on the breeze an odor comes Of crush'd leaves 'neath my truant feet. Each season has its own delight To cheer the heart or glad the eye — The spring is fair, the summer bright And autumn brings her golden sky. The tinted leaves that fall around, The faded flower that hangs its head. The withered grass, the frosted ground, Tell when the summer's sweets are dead ; The lonely woods swept by the gale Are silent, too; the air is chill, The birds are gone from hill and dale, The very fields are lone and still ! And yet there is a lurking charm About the sad October day That stirs the heart with rapture warm 'Til winter drives the spell away. The haunts of late, we sought for shade Are tempered by cool breezes now, The sunshine bright, is welcome made That struggles through each barren bough. The butterflies and flowers we meet No fairer tints in summer show, Than that quaint quilt beneath our feet That covers o'er the srround below. 30 Pastoral The golden leaves, the brown and red That charmed us on our lonely way Have all their glories lost and shed, Yet sweet the bright October day. CHE early sunlight greets the dewy earth. I watch the mists above the meadows lift, The ghastly vapors rise above the hills, And day, in all its fullness, shines abroad. Mine eyes are dazzled with the sunny scene. My ear enraptured with the song of birds. The sweet perfume of flowers and evergreen, Lifts up my heart, with earnest thanks to God. Thanks that our Maker renders such to man With health and nature to enjoy the same. The morn is new again, the broad high sky Is bright and beautiful, for day is nigh ; The bright sun dashes over spire and pane His burning flashes of a fiery rain ; And like the lashes over eyes that speak A dark cloud's shadow falls o'er morning's cheek. A thousand tiny throats sing out in glee To music, without time or melody ; Yet in harmonious keeping, sweet to hear. And give the stricken heart a sense of cheer. 31 Pastoral They know not what is grand, who witness ne'er The opening of a bright and glorious day ; They know not what is sweet, who never hear The feathered songsters in their morning lay ; There is a charm in nature's loveliness That man's descriptive pen cannot express. The eye must witness and the senses share Would we enjoy it, we must linger there. Awake, ye sluggards, open but your eyes ; Behold the grandeur of the morning skies : Arise and listen, lend awhile your ear ; The songster's chorus is a joy to hear. Come forth, ye laggards, life's best time is lost. Or wasted thus, by stupid slumbers cost. A slothful wretch, in truth deserves the rod. For this offence tow'rds nature and her God. 'iiOUGH man may culture, with a certain pride. The costly plants that flourish at his side ; The native beauties of the world at large Are just as grand as those within his charge. The rose may charm us in its wonted place With fine domestic training, shorn of space, ]^)Ut hidden insects will the bloom infest With all the care acknowledged to be best. 32 Pastoral The laurel brown, the chicory in blue With bushy asters in a sombre hue Are but the common weeds that ever stand Upon the broad waste places of the land, Which all the poor enjoy wiio own no spot To plant and water such as they have not. Thanks be to Heaven that the world is free To nature's handiwork where'er it be. The shady forests and the lonely lane Are clothed in beauty over hill and plain, Before the budding leaves their show have made To hide their coming 'neath the falling shade. The wild flow'r in the spring her color shows When sunny skies dispel the melting snows. The winter-green with berries blushing red Looks up, as through the fallen leaves we tread ; The buttercups and daisies greet the eye With violets beneath a welcome sky. Like sweet companions in our quiet walks That burden not Vvith dull obtrusive talks ; These are the gardens of bright nature's God That thrive upon the soft and early sod. The yellow tint, the purple, and the white Blend in harmonious keeping to the sight, And as among them carelessly we stroll They give a rapture to the quiet soul. 33 Ejjrical OUTHERN roses brightly bloom, And spreading vines their shadows throw, Shedding shade and sweet perfume O'er the wrecks of long ago. Pensive mothers kiss their babes, Sighing still for treasures lost, Sons and daughters sigh alas! Dreaming o'er life's tearful cost. Southern roses still shall bloom O'er the dust of fallen braves, Bloom for sons and daughters fair To decorate their early graves. Over ruins of the past Mighty people yet shall rise, Scorning with a proud contempt Unforgiving enemies. Southern roses long shall bloom. Glad'ning hearts with hope and trust ; Barren fields grow green again When stolen treasure falls to dust. Southern roses still shall bloom O'er the dust of fallen braves ; Bloom upon the mossy mounds That tell to-day the heroes' graves. 37 z H_A2v :fiun£, ao iairsr iace 1 see. ThPT tliir of Uk i= ->rimiTig. LmLTjX -i3i oEj? en earrr yanrtL _tar ii«ini»»*ii]r- seen mosi t:aim v. Anf JtTff a ^TQEld of unili : Tilt ^zsac- ' " -. "VTben iSi : He jjiiitfThntf icTa rT ng i±ir3n|i dien: pjom DIE a p& ie c i a^- ^yr^: Sonr zrssz dxe riarrss- Thar ?3fifte?Tc. Are jmyfTT tkc- 5. -^refi. 3ow iresiiir is dffi^ -wi»^"{ a - jx xm. ~ -Tr dat ' v^t T rr raer >3v The heart must be callous indeed If it feels not the charm of a smile Through sympathy true, by a woman decreed To cheer us, at least, for awhile. The man to all feeling is dead. With a soul that is never sincere To abide in the world, without love, or the charm Of the kiss of the woman held dear. Dark days with their sorrows may come To the one with a burden of care, And yet we may find the deep pity of some Who would offer our trials to share. The days of our life may go well. And our fate may most changeable prove. But oh ! to the heart there's a comforting spell In the kiss of the woman we love. $ '"VjTN years agone — but all is over — 11 Then my heart was light, The darkest days can never cover Scenes that were so bright. The vows then spoken, now are broken, Love has turned to hate, And we have parted, callous hearted. Such alas ! is fate. Awake, my heart, and cease thy dreaming, Life is wearing on. The joys upon our pathway gleaming, Fade away anon ; 40 E^rlcal Our happy moments arc but fleeting, Lasting but a day, For all the joys we know at meeting. Parting takes away. Awake, my soul, forget thy sighing, Fate gives her decree. And hate survives when love is dying. Such is destiny. Then let thy sorrow wait the morrow, Be not dull and sad, For days are brighter, hearts are lighter, When the soul is sflad. OMETHING seems telling me ever, That the charms of existence are few : And the heart with a constant endeavor Will be seeking for pleasures anew : But never, ah ! never, can time with its givings Awaken the joys that have lived in the past. The friends that have met us, When sorrows beset us, With comforting words, from the heart, to the last. Nearer and dearer. 41 Something seems telling me ever. That the days of the future may bring- All the comforts of life that are clever, Like fruits from the blossoms of spring ; But the joys of our childhood are sweetest of all. And the songs at the cradle, a fond mother gave Will charm us forever, And sadden us never, Like hymns that are sung o'er our friends at the grave. Nearer and dearer. '^I'^l^ HIGH is life's most happy season?" ^ j^ ^ Asked an aged man one day Of a group of merry schoolboys, Gathered 'round his house at play. Some then, laughing, told him "summer," Some the spring did most enjoy, But not a welcome word for winter Had each bright, light-hearted boy. Then the old man answer'd, smiling, "There is joy our whole life through. But the eyes of boys see never. As the eyes of old men do." 42 Eptical "Three score years ago the spring time Was a happy time to me, After that I loved the summer, With the blossom, bird and bee ; Youth and manhood thus passed o'er me, Happy seasons, though they fled, Now I love the golden autumn, With its leaves so brown and dead ; And when comes at last the winter It shall find me, happy too. For when every branch is leafless I shall see the stars shine through." 43 ay^f^ C*^^^C #^ -CJC*^ A^^^^^^Tt-^^^ •>^ ... Repriniuciion oj "Listen to the Mockiiifi^ Bird' in Mr. Winner's hanJiJiriting Cpnical ^^f% ELIGION is a grace befitting all jhk On whom her spotless raiments chastely fall, But oh ! some don the sainted garb and yet With such untidy manner in its set That with their slovenly and careless mien Pervert the souls that to their cause might lean ; We all prefer, in fact, without constraint, A haughty heathen to a slouchy saint. How well it sets upon the forms of all Who with unselfish aim accept her call. And strive for good, presuming not reward, But win by right example man's regard ; Who err in judgment and who go astra}', And those who wink at evil, and condone The wicked ways of sin in such, and say. The providence of God is wisely shown. And credit not the devil 'er for aught. Because they justify the evil wrought. But then who knows, the Master may divine That Satan by his work shall so design A chain of circumstances that shall tend To yield at last a good and wholesome end ; And they who lift their voices in the praise Of evil deeds should mend their crooked ways. Some are baptized and with converted mind Accept the precepts to the heart assigned, Yet vilify their neighbors bent on wrong With language unbecoming, far too strong. These should again be dipped, to say the worst, With open mouth to have the tongue immersed. 47 Cpntcal CHE spring" grows gardens o'er the sunny earth, The mind builds objects to the fancy fair. The clouds float (gaudy banners o'er the skies) ; And hearts raise hopes they never realize. The mother sings her sweetest lullabies To charm the child upon her heaving breast, Or rocks with weary feet the cradle bed To give her darling one an easy rest. The spring goes by and earth neglects her bloom. The mind forgets its interesting thought. The clouds no more their coloring assume ; And hearts sigh on that dreams should go for naught. Yet "such is life," its comforts pass away And Death decides our fate, we know not when His visits will put stop unto our stay, And end our daily dealings with all men. But why be sad. there is enough in life To satisfy the wants of all our days? The charms of nature, ever full and rife To sow the path of life with joys always. The gist of living is denied to some For hopes of something better yet to come. 48 conical UT three-score years and ten ! how brief the span Of passing years allotted unto man, And yet how few to this extent arrive — It all depends upon the way they live. The here, and the hereafter most concern The minds of all what 'er they may attest, For few there are acknowledging the truth That taketh root within the doubting breast. And those who oft deny a high regard For what may come, to lying clans belong. Whilst scoffing at a sham morality They feel, within themselves, a moral wrong. Is being acted 'neath a thin disguise Through which the world can see, to their surprise. Oh ! for the time, the day, when selfish man Can lay aside his prejudice for race, For caste, for doctrines and for common creeds That tend to worry such as have no grace. But grow distracted ere they comprehend That no man knows what 'er may be his end. Fear not what we may merit or deserve Will be our final fate to all unknown. He that in Him can place his earnest trust Will learn to know that God is ever just. We need no bad instructions in this life For sin is in our nature from the first, And wickedness will flourish as a weed 'Til by its cultivation we are cursed. The good must be instilled into our mind From infancy and youth, 'til manhood's days, 49 Cgnfcal All seed implanted bringeth forth its kind Then tarry not in dark forbidden ways. For nature never varies laws her own. We know full well what must the harvest be, In spirit, or on earth what 'er is sown. How 'er we differ as to right or wrong To just convictions, be ye bold and strong. % HE stars that shine above us in the day Unseen by human eye in their display, Are like the souls that wander off from And in another region have their birth ; A brighter orb absorbs the fainter light, 'Til darkness comes, when they shine in the night ; Just like the talents of some noble head. Which are not known until the source is dead. Death sends the soul upon a journey dark With orders sealed and ne'er disclosed below, Yet there are those who picture to the world The outing which they really think to know. We cannot tell, what 'er we may be taught, With what a new existence may be fraught. We may surmise, and thus our minds relieve, In what we think, yet question to believe. SO Cpnical We might as well attempt to measure space, Or calculate eternity by years ; As strive to tell, 'ere our demise the place Or truth regarding life in other spheres. They tell our characters by means of stars From royal Jupiter to fiery Mars, They read our planets — what delusive hope, Unless we live to fit our horoscope. y ^gf 'HAT truth is "mighty and it must prevail" ^ Is now a maxim we acknowledge stale, The world is full of foul distorted facts And life is oft a lie in word and acts. Some bow to idols and to pain assent, To save themselves from future punishment, They leave their bodies in the hands of those Who for a charge assure the soul's repose. The ignorant are made to suffer much For want of common sense, believing such, But then to those who thus officiate The cash is needed to retain their state. Yet educated heads with better sense Uphold these doctrines with a whim intense. And leave their fortunes to advance the cause Without consideration, — or a pause. 51 Cpnical Show sympathy for weaker minds, possessed With strong behef, that sainted priests with prayers Can all their sins forgive, if but confessed Before the altar to their waiting ears. What matters it, if thus they may presume And act accordingly, as they believe ? If through the ways of life they rightly walk And strive to have no vices to relieve. Unto the chaste, what 'er may be their lot, It makes no diff'rence if they can or not ; Or whether they believe it so, or fail There's nothing then to sanction or bewail. There is a Judge most merciful and good Whom human minds may fail to comprehend To pass the sentence when the time has come That we must bear throusfh ages without end. $ E sin as easily in manner much As silly moths take to the luring light, But there's a motive in the ways of flesh. To do, and hide, to act, and cover up ; That takes the mind to task far more than all The sharp requirements to make a saint : 52 conical First conscience must be conquered would we walk In wicked ways and sin successfully, Or with ourselves must argue and conclude That they are wrong who find a wrong in aught. And then console our weak and tortured minds With whims that have no quality of sense ; But after all there surely comes remorse. For conscience, to the surface will bring up All our impurities in one foul scum, Like flame beneath the sweets we would preserve. Ah ! we are victims all and just the same. Be our condition good, or what it may, To just such foul temptations as may come To steal our resolutions quite away; Temptation, aye the subtle charmer, comes To rob us of what goodness we may claim, She who can conquer best the frail resolves Of all mankind and well his plans upset. Temptation ! Thou the first to lead amiss The new young hearts enjoying Paradise. The first to bring a multitude of sins And curses on the destinies of men. Of what have they to boast who have not been Surrounded by temptations, foul with sin. As likely to have fallen e'en as those Environed by the tempter's subtle throes, How wise the One who gave us in His prayer The special pleading to escape her snare. S3 Cpnical a LAS that man should feign to worship God And serve the devil best in all his ways, That woman should profess to love the Lord And hate her sister in a jealous craze. These render thanks for food before them placed Yet curse the cook if seasoned not to taste ; Who wait for heaven to provide their shelves, Yet never lend a hand to help themselves ; Yes, and respect the Sabbath in their way And dig their bait to fish another day. Such are the hypocrites we often meet, Who pray a congregation from their feet ; Ihese are the sycophants who breed disgust And all mankind are ever loth to trust. Nor join with them because of this complaint, While masquerading as a holy saint. Backsliders cannot offer good excuse For violating vows they so abuse, 'Twere better never to have made at all Their high professions, than to have them fall. 'Tis easy to embrace some maxim old. But difficult its principles to hold. And thus it is that many oft profess To own the morals that they will transgress ; They play their cards with ardor, free from blame, But hold no trumps wherewith to win the game. 54 conical /^ VAUNT ye teachers of the olden time \^^ Who seek to win the heart from sinful strain Through fear of everlasting punishment And horrid pictures of eternal pain. These are the men, as tutors, who aspire And punctuate their arguments with fire ; The fear of penalty makes not its mark On those who live in sin with motives dark. Man cannot save the soul of man we know And pilot it as he would have it go ; But let these matters pass, the most we say Cannot direct its course another way From that designed by Him the Scriptures tell Who seals our fate and "doeth all things well." We may at times deluded be by those Who, with their help, our benefit propose, And hope to capture with their salt, perhap, A silly bird that enters in their trap. They offer to prepare a golden cage, And help assist in what you may engage ; But if the bird be captured, great or small. They claim the bird, the gilded cage and all. Then be content for what in life you have, Nor for delusive dreamings learn to crave ; The comfort of a modest home excels The pleasures where the giddy stranger dwells ; Depend upon your own exertions then With independent action toward all men. 55 Cj?mcal 'HE one in love with one's own selfish state Without a rival seldom finds a mate, Self-satisfied and proud in vain he seeks Another just as silly and as weak. Congenial hearts must differ not in life, Indulging in an unbecoming strife. But live in mutual confidence and bliss To share the joys of such a world as this. The mild demeanor of a modest maid. With noble qualities of mind displayed That all associates may surely scan Can win the heart and favor of a man. It needs no language ever to assert The mutual love denied to those who flirt. Like solitude the quiet of the hour Gives dreamy rapture oft, and love her pow'r. The pride of self in high society Where money gives the fool a chance to vie Is but ephemeral, for at its loss — Its vain significance and all — is dross. The body is not worth the rag it wears, And nature's crop is ruined by the tares. Now in the giddy clans, yes, there are those Who use their carcass to display their clothes; And in their hearts presum.e with strong desire To have all people envy and admire : Or like the pea fowl with its plumes outspread Think that the world with envy bows its head ; From this display few creatures are exempt, Presuming not 'tis noticed with contempt. 56 €vnit&l HE man who buildeth for himself a vane ^Whereby to read the manner of the wind. Gives oft' a service to his people near, Far better than the owner first designed. His neighbor plants within his private gates The best selected fruit that he may find, And then impatiently, he longing waits To test its quality and know its kind. The spreading branches burdened in the fall, Too often drop their fruit beyond the wall, The best he hoped to relish, raised with pride. Will fall from garden to the outer side ; The toils of life are often spent in vain To gratify another's lucky gain. Alas ! that we through all our days must build A dreamy mansion for some future year. And never chance to occupy its place Before the last of life is finished here. To most of us existence is a dream Of bright and better days beyond our view. Or stormy season full of cloud and damp, Without a ray of sunshine breaking through ; Sometimes, at last, when twilight ends the day, And golden bordered clouds shine in the west, Too late to give the waiting heart a joy, The gladdened eyes behold and close in rest. If we could make our destiny at will, And circumvent the troubles that await, We oft are led to think we might avoid The sad environments decreed by fate. 57 conical Ah ! no, the ills that meet us face to face, And fill the mind with sad anxieties Are common unto all the human race ; And he who bears them best is most at ease. We are all vessels out on life's wide sea. With conscience, as a pilot, at the wheel, And if our roving barque is lost or wrecked. We've lost our bearings through our own neglect. m E never know until the day is done What troubles or what trials have yet begun. The morning breaks with sunshine o'er the plain The noon may burden us with wind and rain ; Or storms may usher in a dismal day, Which changing winds 'ere night will drive away. We sorrow not if early life be sad, The coming years may make existence glad. Go watch the clouds with pictures on the sky. That vary as their forms go flitting by, The ever-changing tints that die away And fade at last to sad and dismal gray. E'en thus in life the months go rolling on,. With constant changes until life is done ; Our years are almost gone and but a few Remain to brighten up our hopes anew. 58 critical Like hills that in the distance seem to rise, With lofty summits, reaching towards the skies ; As we approach they lose their altitude That cheated well the eye where erst we stood ; The dreams of wealth by glowing visions fed, Are seldom realized ere they have fled. Incessant changes must diversify Our expectations and our hopes deny. 59 atirical Satirical /^ WISE man sayeth that he knovveth what, ^^1 A fool will argue what he knoweth not ; And thus contention often must arise 'Twixt shallow pates and those considered wise. There is no costume made in worldly art That fools may masquerade as being smart ; Man cannot mimic nor assume a shape, Without the quality he strives to ape ; Thro' all disguise of garb or tongue we know The manner of the fool, what 'er his show. The clan will differ with the class it finds Of opposite beliefs and bias minds, With strong endeavor to persuade, or win With arguments that end where they begin ; One makes not the impression he presumes. The other stolid in what he assumes. 'Tis hard to change the views of men whose might Is centered in the cause of doing right, 'Tis only those of vascillating turn The evidence of truth will coolly spurn ; Embracing all the newest fads and fakes That fashion with its changes ever makes. The ignorant with stubbornness maintain With stern persistence what they ne'er explain. To make their views and reasoning correct In any manner that we might respect. 63 Satirical One may confess the Earth as being round To differ not with him of reason sound, But still maintain with conscience quite at ease, Not like an orange round, but like a cheese, He still affirms with argument to prove The sun revolves because he sees it move, With such as these we cannot well debate, Nor change the mind thus settled in its state. a CRITIC is the one who "kens it all," And none must deign to differ with his views ; The volume of his sayings, great or small, We must accept and dare not to refuse. He is a male example of the sex That finds a fault where really none exists. For if the subject should his wits perplex. Upon his own opinion still persists. Again the female trait he prides to show. Discussing matters that he kens not of. Presuming that his readers do not know Nor comprehend the work, so far above The judgment of the common class, who read Without consideration — which they need. They dare not to acknowledge in their work The multitude who differ in their views. And seem to only shun and coolly shirk The class who dares their judgment to refuse. 64 Satirical We've heard them speak of flowing harmonies And noble melodies to charm the ear, Who should have said of flowing melodies And noble harmonies so grand to hear. Now who can rectify those blunders bold ? Or at such vain delusions deign to scold ; Who have no means or manner of redress By word of mouth or through the printing press. But critics there must be, let no one fear Nor for their void conclusions have a care; For many claim opinions of their own Too solid to be changed or overthrown. Ignoble is the man who deigns to fear The critic's lash, or for his censure care ; The world is wiser than in years gone by, And we may smile, where erst we learned to sigh. $ ^^ LAS ! the fact to all is surely plain )^\^ Endearing words too oft are said in vain, They lose in time their early vim ana charm. And when they cease betoken sure alarm. 65 Satirical The bride and groom may question what we say, But man and wife decide another way ; For there are scenes that vex in ev'ry life 'Twixt bride and groom and also man and wife. The sweetest words are then of no avail, Where people differ in some slight detail ; But should the storm of passion then abate, The show of love o'erwhelms the whim of hate. At first to even call one ''dear" or "sweet," Or pet names such as "darling" when they meet, Seems but a passing matter, commonplace, When years in changed conditions lose their grace. The love that lasts and needs no outward show Nor language to assert what best we know. With trust and faith in those with whom we dwell Gives peace unto the soul and all is well. Mistrust begets suspicion, and a doubt Inclines the heart to action less devout ; The show of true affection none repel. And honied words are needed not to tell ; The test of all the holy ties of love Is faith evinced as on thro' life we move. Far better to be just with those we meet. Than with suspicion doubtingly to treat ; Considering as honest those with whom Our daily dealings force us to assume. 66 Satirical ING SOLOMON was wise when he declared Out of a thousand women well com[)ared A truly honest female found he none, And yet among the men but only one ! We have our happy moments with the sex However much their manner may perplex : We have our diff 'rences at times, although Our hearts with love for them may overflow ; Misunderstandings, like the clouds above, Roll on till those estranged return to love. The heart of man we need not here rehearse. The tongue is much the same, inclined to worse. 'Tis not the heart that makes our troubles great And grieves the soul in sorrow's sadden'd state, For nature gives to mortals high and low The best of feelings that she can bestow ; The lips that talk with slander on the tongue. And vilify their comrades, old and young. Betray the one unfit for intercourse, Which in its time results in rank remorse. The heart must rule our natures for awhile, But then the tongue her victims may beguile And lead us to damnation's awful brink, Where we at last in hidden waters sink. IMen fight as foes, but when the struggle ends They meet in peace, and live again as friends, And hide each other's faults the best they can, With efifort to reform the erring man. 67 Satirical a VALE of tears," indeed, how many say When 'er incHned to feel a little badly. Should fortune bring a dark and gloomy day Of moments that appear to creep on sadly ; But every being bears a different way Life's quaint decrees, some mournfully, some gladly. And nursing sorrows make them more intense Man's motto e'er should be "Indifference," "A vale of tears," 'neath heav'n how many a fool Grieves o'er the future as a scene existing. With no determination to take cool The changes of life's little lot consisting ; But multiplies the coming by that rule. Which keeps the mind forever quaintly twisting And winding, as it were, a thousand woes About our fate that mankind never knows. But those who for the future ever plan. Must surely bear an extra weight of trouble, Anticipating what they seem to scan But always notice with an aspect double. Prepare for coming time we never can. For scenes approach and pass e'en as a bubble, That on the water's surface quickly wakes And ere we scarcely notice surely breaks. 68 How many moments thus do mortals spend And on the course of time their murmurs squander, To think their misery shall never end Nor life e'er grow to their existence fonder ; Nor will it ever seem, alas, to mend, Long as they sit and mournfully thus ponder On these events drawn from the dying past Or shadows by their days of darkness cast. "A vale of tears," how oft we hear men cry, The Gospel's ministers both young and hoary. And then, alas, with what a heavy sigh They picture often life's delusive story, And teach us from earth's pleasures now to fly If we would rest at last in heavenly glory ; Advancing this remark, that those who share The pleasures of this world shall brook none there. The earth was given us that we might enjoy The life that varies so in its duration, Why should we then be seeking to employ Eternally some succor from damnation, Or let the incidents of time destroy The hopeful dreams of ultimate salvation? Earth is a brief abiding place we know, Acceptable to all who make it so. 69 Satirical 'HE traits of humankind are much the same As those of common brutes, both wild and tame, Their natures and their manners keep apace With male and female manners of our race. Attempt to fondle with a kitten small, It will refuse to be caressed at all, And though the effort be renewed again The motive may be good, but all in vain. Then with neglect endeavor to discard The wily creature, without kind regard, And it will strive persistently to find A recognition pitiful and kind ; With strong endeavor, even so and more, F'or good attention that it spurned before. At once we know the gender, by the way Its manners and its nature makes display ; Like feminines in all conditions found, At least in common life, just such abound; Her actions and pretentions quaint and terse Make her to do and say just the reverse Of what she means, or what she says to-day. For in the morrow 'tis the other way. The female trait is shown in ways that tell In all created things on earth as well, And man is much in all his features rough. The character of brute in meaner stuff. But women may forgive and hold no spite Yet man we argue with, which ends in fight. 70 iVN is a riddle woman cannot guess, A problem she can never hope to solve, However hard her judgment may be taxed Through many trials, may her mind resolve ; The true solution seems to reach her lips. And yet her tongue gives not its utterance ; A new attempt, and yet another still, Which terminates, at last, just as at first ; With effort after effort backed by hope, Succeeding not ; yet loth to give it up. She thinks she has it, and with inward pride. Attempts to prove the wisdom of her work. Yet finds her calculations gone amiss, Unwilling to acknowledge she has failed. Above all traits, man's vanity stands high. To govern or to dictate is his aim ; Whatever be his sphere, great, high or mean, He prides himself in being foremost there. For this the lodge, the church, the club is formed. And silly practices of olden time Are mimicked well, or rather, worried through, Till weary nature sickens at the dose. The robes of royalty in common stuff. Are donned and worn by hosts of brainless fools. Who underneath the rags that clothe their flesh Feel great as kings in their significance. 71 Satirical E'en in a land where royalty is scorned And titled heads the scoffer's sneer must bear, The social forms of high society Are daily sped in senseless shows and shams, But man, it seems, is constituted thus The wide world o'er, and needs to be amused ; What better field for his idolatries If any station he may rise to hold? The selfishness of man is without bound, He scans his neighbor with ungenerous heart, And if a single vice his nature holds A score of virtues have no evidence. The sins his brothers carry with their lives Are whispered to the world with eyes upraised In horror at their great enormity, When noble deeds have nothing of report. We all are blind to faults we would not see And thus we grope all in uncertainty ; But after all, whatever may be said Of women and her unconfiding ways. She knoweth well to guard a silent tongue When secrets of her own are to be kept ; Those of another trusted to her care May, like a culprit, venture to escape ; But such as are her own in keeping held Are buried deep, secluded in her heart. 72 Satirical ^-^IDELITY, thou hollow, empty word, ^^ How dotes the heart upon thy void irn- '^ port, Though sounding well when fittingly employed As proper term, to servant, slave or dog ; Yet hope clings to thee like a silly babe When from its mother weaned, still striving on To sip a comfort from the fountain gone. For who can find a heart so full of love That to the slanders of a jealous world It yet can turn a deaf, unheeding ear ; And smile in earnest trust, above all fear ? Where is the soul that thro' all vile report. Will brave the torrent of unwholesome talk, And dare the fearful wave of evil words To save its idol reaching out for help. Doubt is a fiend, who in a winning way Takes strong possession of the wavering mind. And with insidious art holds well his sway Through human weakness over all mankind. The cost of placid peace is wicked war. Though not indulged without a telling scar. We speak of how the heart susceptible Can find in almost anything a charm, Of how our prejudices wear away From objects once repulsive to our sight ; And we appreciate in after days. Some hated object of our early years ; For it is said in doctrine good and sound That honey in the carcass hath been found. 73 Satirical 1 OVE is a fever that no drug can break, A poison that no antidote can cure, An ill beyond the reach of human aid, That all at best seem fated to endure. As children ever have the same complaints, Which nature forces them to surely bear, So all mankind, whatever be his state Seems fated to endure his certain share. And this is one that reaches well the heart. And turns the brain with ailings like a craze The victim suffers with a welcome pain. Nor finds a remedy to his amaze. It is a game at which but two can play. With fair and equal tact when they begin. There must be cheating somewhere if a third Can manage so to shuffle as to win. The heart is won by many a cunning wile. That tempts it like a truant oft to roam. But when entranced by friendship's earnest smile. It long may linger in its native home. Ah, who can judge the human heart aright, When lips refuse its secrets to reveal. Or who can read its story well and true If we are prone its burdens to conceal. 74 Jinciliental Jncitjental a PINHOLE may disclose to eyes far more Than may be noticed at the open door ; Some Httle manner of the artful man Will show a character we blush to scan ; A cunning word meant to deceive, forsooth, Will open wide the honest door of truth. Guard well thy lips with care, lest they reveal And spread the thoughts thou should'st at least conceal ; A pressure of the hand or finger tips Tells more than volumes from confiding lips ; And little things, unwittingly disclosed, Unfold the greater traits in us reposed. One ray of sunshine thro' a darkened room Will open up its contents 'mid the gloom ; It takes but little to divulge and show The mind or eye what we would wish to know ; The vision may behold, for actions tell And minds may comprehend the truth as well. The flutter of the leaves announce with ease The early coming of a stronger breeze ; The locust's shrilly song, we hear them say, Tells surely of a long and torrid day ; The katy-did at eventide will call That frost is on its way for early fall. 77 Jnctnental We learn by signs and tokens, o'er and o'er, The coming of events in times before ; Prognostications of the weather fail Too oft to give us trust in such detail ; We likewise miss, but rarely fail to see The trend and truth of all humanitv. a NATION hungers after lands galore, \\ hich, having gained, still hankers after more ; The people thirst for riches, filled with pride, Which, if attained, are yet unsatisfied, The heart keeps craving for its fill of love. Without content — its jealousies to prove. For better limbs the cripple sighs in vain — For handsome features oft denied, the plains We all lament in discontented mood For what thro' life in others seemeth good ; The world rolls on forever just the same, So take it as we may, there's none to blame ; Why should it be so few enjoy the state In which they live accorded them by fate ? How sv/eet to be contented as we are, Let our condition be what 'er it may ; The poor have pleasures of a lowly kind. And covet not the wealthy in their way. 78 The best of all enjoyment is to rest Surrounded by fond nature's rocks or trees, To sip the water flowing at our feet And breathe the odors wafted on the breeze, With rapture in the heart, and thankful mood To Him the wise dispenser of all good. $ a MORTAL man of forty years or more. Sat idly thinking of his days agone, And making on his mind a picture fair Of other times that yet, perhaps, might come. He was no slave to any sect or creed, And yet a conscientious, upright man, Inclining not to any set belief. But with his trust in one Almighty God. With earnest faith in prayer and doing right, A good example to the world he gave ; To dogmas and to doctrines long laid down In books of strict instructions he was blind, To worded prayers, and studied sermons made His ear was deaf, or heeded not at all — He met his neighbor as a brother should, And governed well himself accordingly, Adopting no vain garb to show his bent, Nor outward mark to advertise his caste. 79 Incidental He said unto himself, as many do, How great in measure is my waste of time, But chided not himself in thinking how Those years in better deeds might have been spent. For manhood at this age, if one be wise. Knows well the world, with all its wiles and ways, Which if the youth could fully comprehend. Would add a thousand sins to his account. $ >AGS ! Rags ! Rags !" from the streer comes a cry, "Linen or cotton, woolen or cloth, Rags ! Rags ! Rags ! am I ready to buy. For the trade I can give, or the cash they are worth." "No, nothing have I," cried the maiden so fair, *'My garments are tidy, unsullied and neat. And all that I own, with pride do I wear. At home or abroad, in parlor or street ; And what do I care for the cash that would buy The few tattered shreds I might cast at thy feet?" "Yes, beautiful rags are thine," said he, "But thy silken garb were no prize for me." 80 Unctbmtal A mother came out with her small scanty store, Weak haggard and wan, as pale as the dead ; "O give me," she cried, "what 'er be their worth, My children are crying and dying for bread ; If it be but a penny or be it a dime. It may yet afford them a welcome repast ; Haste, give me the coin, tho' small be the mite, I fear that it may be my all and my last." "Ah ha !" cried the trader, "I toil not in vain. When I part with my pack threefold is my srain." $ '^TjT LOOK from my window and what do I Jl see? The silk and the cotton, the ribbon and crape. One tells me of wealth, the other of want. Another of death, by its color and shape ; All bring out their flags of pride or distress And tell to the world by their garments alone A tale that the tongue would fail to confess, Although by their rags may it fully be known. The soldier will follow his old tattered flag And die for the bunting that floats o'er his head, With a thrill of delight tho' it be but a rag. He sighs to be wrapped in its folds with the dead. Rags ! rags ! rags ! strongly bound to the mast Of what is thy service when wrecked at the last ? 81 Uncttifntal ^^^ HAT talent never can be bought for cash, %f I Nor be developed by the tutor's lash, Is obvious to all who seek to find Some latent qualities of sense or mind. We cannot grow a lily on a weed, Nor raise a melon from an orange seed ; We cannot breed a bivalve on dry land Nor cultivate an oak in ocean's sand. The seed and soil must properly be sought To thrive by nature's law, or come to naught. A mule can never amble as a horse. Its better qualities are lost, of course. It may resemble much its parentage, But time its character cannot assuage. What nature unto life decrees at birth Is hard to change in anything on earth, A fool will live a fool, no matter what His friends may do to clear away the blot. E was a noble beast, and from his eye The lively gaze of life's young vigor shone. He bayed aloud and to his solemn cry The echo answered with a doleful tone. Which mingled with the rustle of surrounding trees, That waved their mighty branches to the passing breeze. 82 Uncidtntal 'Twas quiet night, and from the moon afar Pale light came down and rested on his brow. Alone he wandered, gazing toward each star That cast upon his form its silverv^ glow ; Lost from the herd, lost, victimized and worn, He shied the chaser's dart, tho' mangled by the thorn. The silent wilderness he slowly paced, And with a piteous and incessant moan He wandered wildly o'er the barren waste. All desolate and drear, all dark and lone ; The wild birds startled from their hidden haunts, rushed out, And hills re-echoed with their strange and fearful shout. Lost from the herd, and aching with the pain Of wounded limbs the bloody victim fell, His cry unanswered rent the air in vain, And died among the forests of the dell. No kindred beast came nigh, but near him lurked at bay The wild and eager bird, close watching for its prey. The less'ning moon went down, and from his frame The impulse of existence died away. And o'er each muscle, with a tremor came The agonies of death and life's decay ; Creation slowly vanished from his glassy eye And morning shone upon him with a placid sky. 83 Knctdental Lost from the herd and hastened from the earth The fated beast, unsheUered, breathed his last ; Ah ! could its foul pursuer from his mirth On such a scene one thoughtful moment cast. The impulse of reflection might have stung the heart Of him who wildly hurled the true and cruel dart. 84 ccastonal €>cca0ional HE scented grass that beautifies the sod Makes manifest the bounteous gift of God; The blooming verdure of the meadow yields In invitation to her sunny fields. Like little favors done, it charms the soul, And adds a comfort to the heart's control. The gaudy Canna and the modest rose Each have their season as the summer goes ; The lawn lives green until the winter's snow To cheer the eye and keep the heart aglow. It sparkles in the sunshine and the shade, With dew-wept diamonds on each verdant blade, When all the choicest plants their bloom have lost, Killed by the coming of an early frost. 'Tis thus the simple sayings of mankind May live to edify the balanced mind. When flow'ry speeches made with vim and pow'r Are lost within the passing of an hour. Some little song with unpretending claim May for its modest author make a name ; Its melody will live from year to year In simple hearts that love and hold it dear. When lofty themes heard at excessive charge Are soon forgotten by the world at large. 87 iSDccasional The sod may make a pillow for the head, When all the flowery neighborhood is dead, The simple song its way to lips may find, When classic themes are seldom brought to mind. Oh, for the power to please the multitude. Who best enjoy all nature, grand or crude, And hanker not for polished gems so rare. But find a fond enjoyment anywhere ; Life is a vaudeville, we must respect, Tho' what we fancy critics may reject. ^jg'^AME builds her structure on the acts of life, II To keep the memory of our better /'•^ deeds. The work of hands or brain with power rife Can only hold the favor she accedes ; 'ihe noble character of man survives A reputation that is gained thro' fraud, For honest purpose is the power that gives The only standing that we can applaud. The thief may be notorious for his work, The wealthy may be known for worldly gain. As in the heart strong aspirations lurk. To be renowned for just what we attain. Our reputation, be it what it may. Cannot decide the character we own. Our standing may be good, but we must say, That standing is not character alone. 88 i3Dcca