Class __/ s<r^^^^7 
 
 Copyright N^ . 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Two hundred copies of this book 
 
 have been printed and the 
 
 type distributed 
 
 No. yff. 
 
POEMS OF THE HOUSE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
POEMS OF THE HOUSE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIZABETH M. OLMSTED 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED 
 
 1903 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two Copits Received 
 
 MAY 19 '903 
 
 Copyright tiaiy 
 cuss CI XXc. No. 
 COPY B. ^ 
 
 .Or 
 
 Copyright, 1903, by 
 Elizabeth M. Olmsted 
 
TO THE AUTHOR 
 
 ON HER GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 MOTHER heart, whose children, fair and strong, 
 And children's children round thy dear hearth 
 
 stand, 
 A love-united and unbroken band, 
 
 And near them presses close a silent throng ; 
 
 Suffer me, too, to come, thy child of song. 
 As when in Hoyhood from the salt sea strand, 
 Thy wandering guest, unto the harvest land 
 
 1 came; whence all thy own to me belong. 
 
 God on thy head pour multiplied His grace. 
 And yield thee, nearer to the life divine, 
 Foregleams of light, touches of heavenly peace ! 
 Long years the mother radiates from thy face. 
 And through long years shall still celestial shine 
 Unseen, nor in thy children ever cease. 
 
 G. E. W.- 
 
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 TO MY CHILDIIEN 
 
CONTENTS 
 POEMS OF THE HOUSE 
 
 PA016 
 
 Aureola 3 
 
 What a Little Boy Said .... 4 
 
 A Bit of Weather 6 
 
 Love Crowned . v 7 
 
 Her Picture 9 
 
 To Mabel 10 
 
 If 11 
 
 A Bicycle Rondeau 12 
 
 Morning and Nk^ht 13 
 
 A Birthday Rondeau 14 
 
 My Student 15 
 
 Manhood 16 
 
 Fleur de Lys 17 
 
 Life 18 
 
 SofWET 19 
 
 Sonnet 20 
 
 The Birthday Gift 21 
 
 Sonnet 22 
 
 " Sans Peur et Sans Reproche " ... 23 
 
 Her Birthday 24 
 
 To Anna 25 
 
 The Birthday in the Rain . . . . 2G 
 
 A Birthday Sonnet 28 
 
 To Zylpha 29 
 
 The Visit to Wyoming Place .... 30 
 
 The Cottage Home 32 
 
 xi 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 POEMS OF THE HOUSE- Continued 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Golden Wedding 33 
 
 Sonnet 35 
 
 Sonnet 36 
 
 Sonnet 37 
 
 To A Picture 38 
 
 Benedicitb 39 
 
 - — Epithalamium 40 
 
 Inspirateur 41 
 
 The Golden Wedding 43 
 
 " When All the World was White with 
 
 May" 45 
 
 Sonnet 46 
 
 Father 47 
 
 "Softly Knell, Oh, Sweetly Tell" . , 48 
 
 Resurgemus 49 
 
 Harry 50 
 
 The Last Service 52 
 
 Sonnet 53 
 
 Vesper Home 54 
 
 Quito 55 
 
 Immortelles 56 
 
 Thy Way 57 
 
 POEMS IN WAR TIME 
 
 The Laureate 61 
 
 The Clarion 62 
 
 The Jubilee 63 
 
 The Fast 65 
 
 Our Boys Going to the War ... 67 
 
 Theodore 69 
 
 The Upas 71 
 
 — Our Gideon 73 
 
 Sonnet 74 
 
CONTENTS xiii 
 
 POEMS IN WAR TIME- Continued 
 
 PAGE 
 
 God's Supreme 75 
 
 Hymn 77 
 
 — Charles Sumner 78 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS AND OCCASIONAL POEMS 
 
 The Robin's Taunt 83 
 
 Transfigured 84 
 
 Trailing Arbutus 85 
 
 Sonnet 86 
 
 Impromptu 87 
 
 My Diary 89 
 
 Flowers in Sickness 90 
 
 Distrust 91 
 
 Recoil 92 
 
 Glen Iris 93 
 
 Table Rock 94 
 
 Love's Unity 96 
 
 Isabel Somerset 97 
 
 Why? 98 
 
 — -Woman's Right 100 
 
 The Gates of Pearl 101 
 
 correggio 102 
 
 Spirit Guests 108 
 
 A Memory 110 
 
 The Pioneers 113 
 
 Ingham Alumna Reunion .... 116 
 
 Noblesse Oblige 118 
 
 Parting Hymn 119 
 
EDITORIAL NOTE 
 
 The poems here collected are gathered from the 
 scattered writings of the author for a period of more 
 than fifty years. The greater part are home poems, 
 devoted to the children and their lives, family oc- 
 casions, friends, and guests, and make a full and 
 golden sheaf of private memories ; others are the nat- 
 ural play of a poetic temperament about the day's 
 experience. One portion, the little group reflecting 
 the times and spirit of the Civil War, is of stronger 
 tone, and shows how the passion of the nation was 
 taken into the life of the home, as a thing of the 
 day and the night, throughout the North; and 
 through these poems the author came before the 
 public at that time ; nearly all the contents of the 
 volume, however, have been printed in one or an- 
 other way. 
 
 The New York "Independent," under the editor- 
 ship of Theodore Til ton, published The Laureate, 
 The Clarion, The Jubilee, The Fast, Our Boys going 
 to the War, Theodore, The Upas, Our Gideon, God's 
 Supreme; and also Aureola, To Anna, To Zylpha, 
 To P. L. B., The Birthday in the Rain, The Visit to 
 Wyoming Place, Resurgemus, Vesper Home, Im- 
 mortelles, Flowers in Sickness, A Memory. "The 
 Democratic Review," so long ago as September, 
 1847, published Correggio, the author's graduating 
 
EDITORIAL NOTE 
 
 piece at Ingham University; and the well-wrought 
 poem singularly keeps the flavor of that old-fash- 
 ioned time and offers a perfect example of the mat- 
 ter then popular in verse, though now remote indeed. 
 In the same Review appeared To Mary. A number 
 of poems were contributed to privately printed 
 volumes. Glen Iris and Tabic Rock appeared in 
 "Glen Iris," published by Mr. William Letchworth, 
 of Buffalo ; Benedicite and Father, in the memorial 
 volume for Judge Skinner, of Buffalo ; and Quito, in 
 that for Colonel Staunton, of Le Roy. Other poems 
 appeared in the local papers of western New York, 
 the author's life-long home; in the publications of 
 Ingham University; and in such juvenile period- 
 icals as "The Little Corporal" and Grace Green- 
 wood's "Little Pilgrim." 
 
 These various waifs, some light as a boy's laugh, 
 some heavy with a nation 's pain, have been gathered 
 here, by the wish of the author's children, for them- 
 selves and family friends. The editor's task has 
 been only one of arrangement and oversight in pass- 
 ing the volume through the press. The poems, in 
 their uncollected state, have added sunshine and 
 given balm to many lives ; this new form will onl}'^ 
 prolong and broaden such happy influence. 
 
 G. E. W. 
 
POEMS OF THE HOUSE 
 
AUREOLA 
 
 When Mary, mother of the Holy Child, 
 
 Beheld with wondering eyes her burden bright, 
 The star stood over, with its effluence mild. 
 
 And peaceful splendor lit the natal night; 
 The wise men knelt with frankincense and myrrh. 
 
 Glory to God swept onward, deep and grand. 
 And fluttering pinions joyously astir 
 
 Proclaimed good will to men in every land. 
 Love Divine! new-born thou ever art 
 
 When Innocence beams from its cradle-bed; 
 All sweet humanities bestir the heart, 
 
 The halo circling round the infant head; 
 To us a child is born, a son is given, 
 
 The Wonderful, to link our earth to Heaven. 
 
WHAT A LITTLE BOY SAID 
 
 ' I LOVE some one more than you, mother, ' ' 
 
 Said a darling little boy, 
 While with many hugs and kisses 
 
 He went wild with New Year joy; 
 And his mother, looking sorry, 
 
 Said, "Not some one more than me! 
 Have you got a little sweetheart? 
 
 I 'm as sad as I can be ! " 
 
 ' I love some one more than you, mother," 
 
 And he shut his merry eyes, — 
 ' Don't you ever know who that is 
 Living up in the blue skies ? 
 He is better than my father. 
 
 Brothers, sisters, all the rest ; 
 Don't you ever know who that is? 
 It is God I love the best. 
 
 I will wish him ' Happy New Year, ' 
 
 Do you think that he will care ? 
 He has got so many children. 
 
 Can he find them everywhere? 
 He gives all the pretty mornings. 
 
 With the sunshine and the snow. 
 And at night he brings the darkness. 
 
 When I go to sleep, you know." 
 4 
 
WHAT A LITTLE BOY SAID 
 
 Then the mother held him closer 
 
 As she bent her head in prayer, 
 Asking God to give the Child-heart 
 
 To His people everywhere;^ 
 And the ** Kingdom" was so near her, 
 
 She could hear "their angels" call, 
 Happy New Year! Happy New Year! 
 
 Peace on earth! Good will to all!" 
 
A BIT OF WEATHER 
 
 'Dear brother March," said April gay, 
 ' ' Let me go out with you to-day 
 
 And set the winds a-roaring; 
 I '11 wear your iciest coat of mail, 
 And help you thresh the rattling hail, 
 
 And send the rain down pouring. ' ' 
 
 'Agreed," said March, all in a bluster,— 
 He knew his April and could trust her 
 
 For any mad-cap scurry; 
 ' You see that black cloud over there, 
 Just take my hand, but have a care, 
 
 'T will be a right smart flurry." 
 
 'T was rain, 't Avas hail, 't was snow and sleet. 
 And everybody in the street 
 
 Went growling at the weather ; 
 "When out flashed April's shining face, 
 And Cloud and Sunshine ran a race, 
 
 Both getting in together. 
 
LOVE CROWNED 
 
 Gaily through the garden snow 
 
 I watched my darling come and go ; 
 
 Behind him trailed a silver thread, 
 
 That tracked the path of a tiny sled, 
 
 Round and round in many a maze. 
 
 That charmed his curious, backward gaze, 
 
 And woke a laugh so sweet and wild, 
 
 I said in my heart, ' ' Dear thoughtless child, 
 
 The roses he loved in summer time 
 
 Are dead and forgotten beneath the rime. ' ' 
 
 And, musing, I turned to my household cares 
 
 Till I heard light feet on the garden stairs. 
 
 Was a string untied, or a mitten lost ? 
 
 Was puss in peril by fire or frost? 
 
 A weightier errand far he brings, 
 As back to the wall the door he flings ; 
 Bearing aloft an emerald prize. 
 Silken grass with its summer dyes. 
 
 'Mother, see what was under the snow, 
 Close by the hedge where the thorn trees grow. 
 Keep it for me. Shall I tell you why ? 
 To remember the beautiful summer by." 
 
 7 
 
LOVE CROWNED 
 
 Was it an angel in disguise 
 
 That looked from the tender, beaming eyes, 
 
 And drew my heart from its weight of care 
 
 Into the sunshine sweet and fair, 
 
 Till the drops that fell on the silken bands 
 
 "Were rainbow-hued in the childish hands, 
 
 And my soul swept out in a song of praise, 
 
 For the love that was crowning all my days? 
 
HER PICTURE 
 
 love's proof 
 
 Ah, could I paint her as she seems, 
 Fair Mabel in her woodland dreams, 
 No artist but would envy me 
 The subtle charm, the witchery. 
 The pensive poise, the girlish grace, 
 The haunting sweetness of her face, 
 Where lips and eyes reveal a mood 
 Which nymphs and dryads understood, 
 But now, elusive, has no speech 
 From talking oak or singing beech; 
 Yet all her soul is held in thrall, 
 And from her loosened fingers fall. 
 Like filmy laces broidered down 
 The whiteness of her sylvan gown, 
 Parnassus grasses from the burn, 
 The trailing vines, the maiden fern, 
 Wild roses such as lovers seek 
 To vie with blushes on her cheek. 
 Ah, should we make of these a wreath 
 And Mabel's forehead shone beneath. 
 And so her picture crowned complete 
 From royal head to flower-kissed feet, 
 What artist, though he stood aloof, 
 Could call it other than "Love's Proof"? 
 
TO MABEL 
 
 How sweetly girlhood grows 
 
 Between the lily and the rose! 
 
 Her budding wings she tries 
 
 And singing through the sunshine flies. 
 
 As in the Eden days, 
 No shadows are, no yesterdays; 
 But springtime passing fair, 
 And radiant morning air. 
 
 So sweetly girlhood grows 
 Between the lily and the rose. 
 
 10 
 
IP 
 
 If all the year had flowers, dear, 
 
 They might not be so sweet. 
 But lie in tender helplessness 
 
 Beneath our careless feet. 
 
 If all our days went gala-ways. 
 
 And duty waited slow, 
 The heavens might drop their sweetness then 
 
 And we should never know. 
 
 11 
 
A BICYCLE RONDEAU 
 
 0, WHAT a boy ! his circling wheel 
 Flies down the street; its polished steel 
 Is not more shining than his face, 
 That shows such ardor in the chase 
 As timid pulses never feel; 
 Once more Cyllene doth reveal 
 The swiftness of the winged heel, 
 The perfect poise, the airy grace; 
 0, what a boy ! 
 
 So flies for him Life 's circling wheel, 
 But what his path none may reveal. 
 Through quicksands deep or rugged place, 
 God help him still to win the race ! 
 Hark! Hear his signal's merry peal! 
 0, what a boy! 
 
 12 
 
MORNING AND NIGHT 
 
 MOENENG 
 
 Across the vales, across the meads, 
 
 My happy darlings go, 
 Stringing buttercups for beads. 
 
 Their golden hearts aglow. 
 
 NIGHT 
 
 Across the vales, across the meads. 
 My weary children come, 
 
 Leaning on their broken reeds. 
 Glad to rest at home. 
 
 13 
 
A BIRTHDAY RONDEAU 
 
 CHILDHOOD, wait ! too swift the days 
 
 For all your frolic, winsome ways, 
 Too fair the wayside daisies grow, 
 Too bright the fairy fountains flow. 
 
 Too sweet the song-birds' springtime lays. 
 
 loiter, linger at your plays ! 
 Pluck not the daisy's sibyl rays, 
 'She loves— loves not"— why should you know' 
 childhood, wait! 
 
 Your rounded cheek with rosy glow 
 Grows redder as the March winds blow; 
 Not once your bounding footstep stays, 
 Though all our heart, delaying, says : 
 'You know not whither, wherefore go? 
 O childhood, wait!" 
 
 14 
 
MY STUDENT 
 
 ON HIS EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY 
 
 How Manhood's strength and woman's sweetness 
 meet 
 Within thy nature, striving each for sway, 
 While grand old Homer leads the classic way 
 And Virgil sings with rhythmic numbers sweet. 
 What bounding pulses at Achilles' wrath! 
 What pitying tears at Euryalus slain, 
 The purple flower low-lying on the plain, 
 The wearied poppy in the tempest's path ! 
 Thou readest me the riddle of old days : 
 I am the Mary-Mother at thy feet 
 With lesser worship, yet, such love complete- 
 Had it beginning 1 hath it end of days ? 
 
 Child-prophet! Strong to do thy Master's will. 
 Yield all thy life to His and thus fulfil. 
 
 15 
 
MANHOOD 
 
 Not by the lip that wears its bearded pride, 
 
 Nor by the sinewy strength and firmer tread, 
 
 Can I count backward to the sunny head 
 That found its sweetest shelter at my side. 
 And say, "Hast thou, indeed, to Manhood grown?' 
 
 I know it by a truer, finer sense ; 
 
 I feel it in the silent eloquence 
 Caught from the sadness of life's undertone. 
 Thou hast God's work to do— be valiant, strong. 
 
 The life within the life each day to live ; 
 
 With steady hand, at Duty's call, to give 
 The blow to error and defiant wrong ; 
 
 Thy country asks a gift for this proud year. 
 
 Give thou a Manhood without blame or fear. 
 
 January 28, 187G. 
 
 16 
 
FLEUR DE LYS 
 
 Flower of my life ! My lily, souled so white 
 And starred with radiant winter 's joyous gleam, 
 If I but meet thee in night's perfect dream 
 The morning dawns with soft, enchanting light, 
 As if I held thee in my very sight 
 Slender and pale and purely delicate: 
 I Imow thy regal nature, Fleur de Lys! 
 What maids of honor on thy footsteps wait, 
 Meekness and Patience, gentle Charity, 
 Bequeathed thee by that noble man and saint, 
 Saint Maur, our Seymour of fair Brittany! 
 If that long line of royal ancestry 
 Had sought to crown one peerless Fleur de Lys, 
 For sovran sweet they would have chosen thee. 
 
 17 
 
LIFE 
 
 Courage, brave heart ! the athlete flings aside 
 The lightest weight that may his way impede; 
 So step thou forth with spirit proudly freed 
 From petty arrogance and jealous pride. 
 True manhood reaches out to recognize 
 The loyal grasp of hands that scorn a bribe, 
 And he who nobly wins a noble prize 
 May well forget the shoulder-shrug and gibe. 
 Yet all things come to us because they must ; 
 The statue first is hewn with heavy stroke; 
 The fierce tornado tries the "heart of oak 
 Nourished to strength with brave ancestral dust— 
 The centuries mark the years it hath withstood ; 
 Canst thou not bide thy time, well knowing all is 
 good? 
 
 18 
 
SONNET 
 
 TO MARY 
 
 Light of my heart, sweet Mary, thou to me 
 Art dearer than all other friends beside ; 
 Thy gentle love, so long and truly tried, 
 
 Is changeless ever in its purity. 
 
 Come weal, come woe — I press the welcome hand, 
 And in thy murmured words of tenderness 
 Rejoice that thou art mine, my soul to bless. 
 
 Sweet Mary, ours is love which shall withstand 
 
 All human ills; — misfortune's chilling breath 
 Shall speak us friends, and proud prosperity 
 Shall fling no golden gate 'twixt thee and me; 
 
 For ours is faithfulness, e'en unto death! 
 Oh, Father ! grant, in brighter realms above 
 We e'er may joy in thine, and in each other's love ! 
 
 19 
 
SONNET 
 
 A. M. G. 
 
 Augusta, darling, in thy girlhood sweet 
 Mirth timed the measure of thy flying feet; 
 The woodland nymphs went envious of the grace 
 Revealed in airy poise and radiant face; 
 And if my fond heart, yielding to their spell, 
 Sighed out in mournful cadence its farewell. 
 It was but prophet of the happy day, 
 More joyous for the seeking and delay. 
 When hand clasped answering hand, and in a breath 
 "Augusta thou!" and "thou Elizabeth!" 
 0, wondrous years, what beauty have ye wrought, 
 What priceless treasures to her household brought! 
 Husband and children and a noble fame 
 Whose sculptured wreath entwines darling 
 Augusta's name. 
 
 20 
 
THE BIRTHDAY GIFT 
 
 H. E. B, 
 
 LOVELIEST days! the crowned year 
 Beside the flaming chariot stands, 
 And lo ! she summons one most dear, 
 And to the faithful, willing hands 
 This gift she brings : " In weal or woe, 
 Sweet almoner of kindest deeds, 
 No joy that shines, no heart that bleeds, 
 But thou its hidden springs shalt know. 
 And purest sympathy impart 
 Till joy a heavenly grace shall learn, 
 And every stricken, sorrowing heart 
 The healing hand of Love discern;— 
 Go forth thy mission to fulfil, 
 With earnest heart and steadfast will; 
 My garnered stores are thine to give, 
 Rich fruits of wisdom, golden grain, 
 The harvest sheaves of toil and pain. 
 The bread of life whereby we live. ' ' 
 In grateful tears low bowed the head. 
 And forth the flaming chariot sped. 
 
 21 
 
SONNET 
 
 TO G. E. WOODBERRY, ON HIS TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY 
 
 Because the May is chill we sigh and fret, 
 While golden robins in their hammocks swing 
 And fill the air with carolings of spring, 
 
 Whose shy sweet blossoms in the dells are set; 
 
 And so, dear poet friend, if I forget 
 What tender grace behind stern duty hides. 
 Some burst of song my faitliless spirit chides, 
 
 Some soul-sweet thoughts tlieir lovely fragrance 
 bring. 
 
 Sudden the sunshine darkens in the storm, 
 The lightning smites, it is the day of doom ; 
 We wonder what can be from out that gloom, 
 
 If life and hope can e'er again take form; 
 And from the cloudy mists a shape evolves, 
 Bright, resolute, and strong with high resolves. 
 
 22 
 
"SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCIIE" 
 
 Like a knight in armor with lance apoise, 
 
 Into the battle you speed. 
 There are mortal foes in your sweetest joys, 
 
 In your struggles of sorest need. 
 Heart, true heart, be strong! 
 
 You will never know by the trumpet's blast 
 When the foe of your foes lies slain ; 
 
 But a tender pity will hold you fast 
 And a look of sovran pain. 
 Heart, true heart, be glad ! 
 
 28 
 
HER BIRTHDAY 
 
 We know not, dear one, that to-day 
 The storms of winter rise, 
 
 For in thy tender heart alway 
 Love's fairest sunshine lies. 
 
 And if the patient, passing years 
 Had griefs, how can we know? 
 
 Since brighter for the falling tears 
 Shines love 's sweet afterglow. 
 
 24 
 
TO ANNA 
 
 The joyous hour at last is here, 
 And on sweet Anna's fair young head 
 
 The sunshine of another year 
 Like holy benison is shed ! 
 
 Behind her lies bright childhood's day, 
 
 The dew still fresh on flower and spray ; 
 
 Before her, like a tangled braid, 
 
 The untried pathways spread in sunshine and in 
 shade. 
 
 "How shall she walk this checkered way?" 
 
 In loving, anxious fear I sighed; 
 "With trembling footsteps shall she stray, 
 The siren Pleasure for her guide ? 
 Shall fame allure, shall sin ensnare, 
 Shall wealth delusive splendor wear?" 
 "Not so," replied a voice of love, 
 "Hers is the narrow path that leads to heaven 
 above. ' ' 
 
 Then looked I on sweet Anna's face, 
 And lo ! a heavenly light was there ! 
 
 I knew its brightness was the trace 
 Of cheerful faith and earnest prayer. 
 
 To her I felt the boon was given 
 
 To be, joy ! an heir of heaven ; 
 
 No wish of mine could add a ray 
 
 To that full happiness which crowned her natal 
 day. 
 
 25 
 
THE BIRTHDAY IN THE RAIN 
 
 Why should bonny May be weeping, 
 All her sunny smiles back keeping, 
 Every little floweret peeping 
 
 From her dripping hood? 
 Bonny May turned naughty fretter? 
 She should know her duty better. 
 Come, sweet birthday friends, beset her 
 
 To be nice and good. 
 
 Once she came from fairest Aiden, 
 Sunny-crowned and blossom-laden. 
 In her arms a wee, wee maiden. 
 
 Blue eyes full of truth. 
 Busy bees were blithely winging, 
 Happy birds their welcome singing. 
 Fairy flowers sweet incense bringing, 
 
 All for Baby Ruth. 
 
 Then the gentle May replying : 
 'Cease, my little friends, your sighing; 
 You will see that I am trying 
 
 "Wisest things to show; 
 How in Ruthie's life, as ever, 
 Clouds and sunshine will not sever; 
 But, by patient, wise endeavor, 
 Each is good, we know. 
 26 
 
THE BIRTHDAY IN THE RAIN 
 
 ''Little Ruth, with dimpled finger, 
 On this lesson still must linger, 
 And the happy years will bring her 
 
 Treasures rich and rare. 
 One, two, three, four, five sweet kisses, 
 Little pats and birthday blisses, 
 So of all days happiest this is, 
 May-bud, Ruthie fair." 
 
 27 
 
A BIRTHDAY SONNET 
 
 p. L. B. 
 
 What saw I in a vision, yestereve, 
 
 When fairy lights went twinkling through the 
 trees ? 
 A lovely band with deftest art did weave 
 
 A vine-wreathed arch, and with a graceful ease 
 They spanned thy doorway, gentle friend of mine, 
 
 Singing the while a happy, joyous song. 
 Sweet-voiced and low, as 't were the fabled Nine, 
 
 Whose heroes to all days and climes belong. 
 Come forth, O friend, from Childhood's love-lit 
 way; 
 
 Pass through this flowery gate to Stainless Youth, 
 And thence to Manhood's proud and peerless day. 
 
 Keeping thine heritage of Love and Truth. 
 Love ! Truth ! bless God the hour is nigh 
 When peradventure some for these will dare to die. 
 
 28 
 
TO ZYLPHA 
 
 The last bright leaf of childhood's budding bloom 
 Has softly opened on our sight to-day, 
 And from the floweret steals a heavenly ray 
 
 Whose starry radiance shall life's path illume. 
 
 Sweet Zylpha, in thy tender, thoughtful eye 
 I read the mission thou art called to share, 
 Thy happy lot 't will be to banish care. 
 
 And soothe with gentle words the mourner's sigh. 
 
 What brighter fortune can I ask for thee, 
 My precious friend, so beautiful and good, 
 Just on the verge of lovely womanhood, 
 
 A child of sunshine and of purity? 
 
 Thou hast an angel mission here of love. 
 
 Which thou shalt leave but for a holier one above. 
 
THE VISIT TO WYOMING PLACE 
 
 Three little girls, in white, 
 'The Red," "the Pink," "the Blue," 
 (We named them from their sashes) 
 
 Over the pavement flew 
 In a dainty little carriage 
 
 Which "Jenny" proudly drew. 
 Who was the dashing driver? 
 
 Hattie, was it you? 
 
 Three little girls in white 
 
 Came back to play croquet. 
 With a flutter of silken sashes 
 
 That made the lawn so gay; 
 And the balls sped hither, thither. 
 
 Till the evening shadows drew 
 Around the tent, "Sans Souci," 
 
 AVTiere a mound of ice-cream grew. 
 Was it work of fay or fairy? 
 
 Aladdin, it was you. 
 
 Three little girls in white 
 
 Sped through parlor and hall. 
 
 Under the pleasant light 
 And the curtain's fleecy fall. 
 30 
 
THE VISIT TO WYOMING PLACE 
 
 They played at ''Magic Music," 
 And ''many-horned" they grew. 
 
 Who was the "genteel lady"? 
 Mary, was it you? 
 
 Three little girls in white 
 
 Crept softly into bed; 
 They had folded silken sashes, 
 
 And the evening prayers were said. 
 And a soft voice said, in whispers: 
 "Such a day I never knew. 
 Wyoming Place is charming!" 
 
 Allie, was it you? 
 
 31 
 
THE COTTAGE HOME 
 
 AVhen did thy spirit, gentle friend, first turn 
 
 With fond remembrance to thy cottage dear? 
 Not when the glittering winter, cold and stern, 
 
 Was hailed the festive monarch of the year; 
 But when the balmy airs of springtime sweet 
 
 Brought fragrance from the meadows far away. 
 And through the turmoil of the busy street 
 
 Came visions of the orchards— "white with May." 
 "Ah, me, "sighed little ones," where are the flowers— 
 
 The crocuses that peeped above the snow, 
 The hyacinths, the tulips that were ours, 
 
 The lilacs?"— til en a tear— "we loved them so!" 
 What wonder that the mother's cheeks were wet 
 AVith tender sorrow and a fond regret! 
 
 32 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 A MADRIGAL 
 
 All the peaceful farm-lands 
 Wore their robes of white, 
 
 And lit their jeweled tree-tops 
 In honor of the night; 
 
 The golden night, the wedding night. 
 The Golden Wedding night. 
 
 Within, the joyous household. 
 
 In merry, festive mood. 
 Arrayed the bride and bridegroom 
 
 As shy and pleased they stood; 
 How gently years had touched them! 
 
 It seemed a golden prime. 
 The wedding night, the golden night. 
 
 The Golden Wedding time. 
 
 Fair daughters, maid and matron. 
 
 And stalwart sons were there, 
 And children, fresh as morning. 
 
 With bright and floating hair; 
 And sweetness, song, and laughter 
 
 Made up a merry chime; 
 O wedding night, golden night, 
 
 The Golden Wedding time! 
 33 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 Love hath her dear home-heroes; 
 
 Life's battle daily fought, 
 The patient, tireless giving. 
 
 An inner strength hath wrought; 
 We crown them, not with laurels — 
 
 Love's pearls are heavenly white- 
 O saintly bride and bridegroom, 
 
 Golden Wedding night! 
 
 34 
 
SONNET 
 
 H. T. L. R. 
 
 Like some brij^lit shell whose hidden heart of rose 
 
 Wreathes and iuwreathes with convolutions fair, 
 Friend of a few brief days, thou didst disclose 
 
 A perfect nature, exquisite and rare. 
 Thy voice still haunts me like the murmurin<]f sea 
 
 When low and sweet its rippling wavelets run: 
 If slumbering passion in its depths may be 
 
 We only feel the peace of victories won. 
 Haply on other hearts thou shalt outpour 
 
 The glad refreshings of thy strong, pure soul ; 
 Then tidal waves shall bear thee back once more 
 
 And love's harmonious anthems joyous roll. 
 I heed not treacherous calm, nor ocean's roar, 
 But wait, serene in faith, upon the white, firm shore. 
 
 35 
 
SONNET 
 
 Sweet i'rioiui, thy iiontio. ijonorous praise I hoard. 
 Recalling days when hearts were all in tune, 
 Like early souix-birds in l.ho balmy June; 
 
 And, at this hour, 1 mind me of thy word, 
 'One song for me!" Yet must I trembling wait; 
 For thou, dear sulVering one, hast been so near 
 The deatJiless land, tliy raptured soul did hear 
 
 The angels singing at Heaven's very gate. 
 
 How shines upon thy face that joy serene ! 
 Art thou indeed, a messenger of light. 
 With love divine transtigured in our sight, 
 
 Angelic sweetness in thy lowly mien? 
 
 Ciod gives some souls to teach what Ihou hast 
 
 known : — 
 'Perfect llu\nigh sutYcrinu', "' bv His trrace alone. 
 
 36 
 
SONNET 
 
 I SOUGHT iny garden Tor u gii'l oi' love, 
 
 Bright sumnior blossoms with exhaling sweets, 
 And while my liniids the (',lust(M-ing ffugranee wove. 
 
 My heart, like some dear strain that ol't repeats 
 Its tender burden, still kept singing ou,— 
 And all these years are gone! these years are 
 
 gone ! ' ' 
 I would have wept again your griefs long past, 
 ]iut how could present joy a shadow cast 
 When I beheld the daughters round your hearth 
 
 In happy household circle closely drawn. 
 Lovely and h)ving, childhood's joyous mirth 
 
 And maiden sweetnciss, womanhood's fair dawn? 
 My heart forgot its soT'row and sang on, 
 ■ What matter that th(^ years are gone ! the years 
 are gone!" 
 
 87 
 
TO A PICTURE 
 
 A. C. C. W. 
 
 Dear, did I need the sunshine to impress 
 
 Thy lineaments in perishable guise, 
 
 Wlum in my heart Love's brightness in excess 
 
 Had wrought this miracle of tenderness 
 
 On which I look in rapt and still surprise? 
 
 Tf most I love the speaking lips, or eyes. 
 
 Or soft hair waving in its careless grace, 
 
 And shading that fair hand, I never know, 
 
 While droops in pensive reverie the face. 
 
 And gentle thoughts of friendships long ago 
 
 Come like the far-off tones of chiming bells. 
 
 When autumn crisp with winter decks the dells. 
 
 And musings of sweet pastorals entwine 
 
 Their poet tendrils, like a frost-gemmed vine. 
 
 88 
 
BENEDICITE 
 
 Soft and serene, these mild October days 
 Come like a benison to bless the year. 
 O golden sunshine, crown the head so dear. 
 
 Once bowed in sorrow, lifted now in praise ! 
 
 Tender beyond our thought the chastening is;— 
 The past, with fragrant memories replete, 
 The future, leading on with beckonings sweet 
 
 To that bright home of pure unclouded bliss. 
 
 There angel work, begun on earth, shall be 
 Not strange to those untiring, faithful hands 
 That wait in gentlest patience His commands 
 
 Who said: "Unto the least of these— to me;" 
 
 Blessing and blest, as lovely colors blend 
 
 To make thine autumn wreath, beloved friend. 
 
 89 
 
EPITIIALAMIUM 
 
 Because they love as lovers may 
 
 In love's unselfish, royal way, 
 
 I know their love will last for aye. 
 
 Each to the other's wish defers; 
 His hopes, ambitious, all are hers; 
 Her silent thought his being stirs. 
 
 She, from a separate scion grown, 
 Engrafted makes his life her own; 
 Not as the clinging vine outblown 
 
 By adverse winds to sudden fall. 
 But like the palm-tree, seneschal 
 Of sovereign bounty, blessing all. 
 
 O happy twain, forever one. 
 
 What ask ye more beneath the sun?— 
 
 Love reigns supreme, Love's will be done! 
 
 40 
 
INSPIRATEUR 
 
 FOR HER SILVER WEDDING 
 L. A. S. P. 
 
 Love sets her jewels like a crown 
 
 Upon the royal head of truth, 
 And tender radiance flashes down 
 
 Its sunshine of eternal youth. 
 
 rarest teacher, truest friend, 
 
 I clasp a hand I held of yore ; 
 The years recede, the moments blend. 
 And I am at your feet once more. 
 
 1 hear the voices glad and sweet, 
 
 The classmate's call from book and bower, 
 And once again your lips repeat 
 The lesson golden as the hour. 
 
 The young hearts pant with eager haste 
 To battle with life's surging wrong, 
 
 And trembling lips have dared to taste 
 The fountain of immortal song. 
 
 All nature waits, and flower and star 
 With light and sweetness thrill the air, 
 
 And from heroic ages far 
 The story of the seons bear. 
 41 
 
INSPIRATEUR 
 
 morning life ! thy freshness still 
 
 Can tinge the cheek with softer glow, 
 
 And with its pictured memories fill 
 These halls we loved so long ago. 
 
 We come once more across the years 
 That bring the silver wedding-day, 
 
 And through the mist of gathering tears 
 This tribute at your feet we lay. 
 
 God bless you, friend of friends, with one 
 Who takes for us the lover's part, 
 
 And bring for you at set of sun 
 The Golden Wedding of the heart. 
 
 42 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 OlilVER ALLEN AND CATHERINE H. SEAMAN 
 
 1848. MAY 18. 1898 
 
 In the year we call the olden, 
 When the tulips blossom golden, 
 
 All in merry, merry May, 
 Come the grandsires and grandmothers. 
 Aunts and uncles, sisters, brothers, 
 
 And the hosts of cousins gay. 
 Bringing wealth of warm affection. 
 Tributes wondrous in selection, 
 
 For the "Golden Wedding day." 
 
 Baby cooings, boyish laughter, 
 ShaJfing roof -tree to each rafter. 
 
 Bring to mind the old-time way ; 
 When, arm in arm and garden flitting. 
 Or in leafy arbor sitting. 
 
 Went the heads that now are gray. 
 
 Still we see the smoke a-eurling 
 Where Havanas are unfurling,— 
 
 Boys are boys for aye and aye; 
 But their talk is of Manila, 
 Spanish dons and fierce guerrilla, 
 
 And they accent Cavite. 
 
 43 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 But the younger hearts are glowing 
 With the ardor of the knowing 
 
 All about the wedding day, 
 When grandfather and grandmother, 
 Plighting troth to one another, 
 
 Were the bride and groom of May. 
 
 0, the skies were blue that morning. 
 Heaven's own blue for the adorning, 
 
 Not a cloud that came their way ; 
 Pink of apple blooms drooped o'er them. 
 And the long, bright road before them 
 
 Shone in Avreaths for holiday. 
 
 Now, my Muse, the fact surrender 
 That the groom was tall and slender. 
 
 But his beauty why assay. 
 When the bride stepped so divinely 
 Like a Juno, and benignly 
 
 As became the Queen of May? 
 
 Is it fifty years ? Oh, never ! 
 Just a bit of the forever, 
 
 And we meet and Idss and say. 
 With a tender, sweet caressing, 
 One more prayer for Heaven's blessing 
 
 On the Golden Wedding day. 
 
 44 
 
''WHEN ALL THE WORLD WAS WHITE 
 WITH MAY." 
 
 When all the world was white with May, 
 
 And valley lilies hid away, 
 
 Our darling, shy and sweet as they, 
 
 Slipped through the gates of Paradise; 
 The storm-clouds darkened all the plain, 
 The sobbing requiem of the rain; 
 Throbbed in our hearts a kindred pain; 
 
 The gates were shut in Paradise. 
 
 There came a morn so still and fair. 
 
 The breath of Heaven was in the air; 
 
 Might we not see her shining there. 
 Beside the gates of Paradise? 
 
 And, lo ! a vision, soft as light. 
 
 When morning breaks from troubled night; 
 
 The May flowers leaned their blossoms white- 
 Earth was the gate of Paradise. 
 
 45 
 
SONNET 
 
 Weep not, my friends, for soul so passing fair 
 
 That seemed, while yet of earth, still poised for 
 flight, 
 Like some winged orchid hovering in the air, 
 
 A miracle of radiant love and light. 
 Her seraph song she sang, but stooping still 
 
 To share the burdens of our common lot, 
 Seeking by prayer to know His perfect will 
 
 Who dwelt on earth yet of the earth was not; 
 With gentlest touch she soothed the hearts that bled 
 
 From inward wounds the heedless had passed by: 
 Nay, friends, how can we help but weep her dead. 
 
 Thinking of tears no other hand could dry 
 Save His who lingered in one home of grief ? — 
 Jesus who "wept," come Thou and bring relief. 
 
 46 
 
FATHER 
 
 Let sculptured wreath of laurel twine the name 
 
 We hold more precious as the years go by ; 
 This much we give the world— his meed of fame 
 
 Whose royal nature trembled at a sigh. 
 Tender, compassionate, just, wise, and good. 
 
 He filled the measure of his earthly days ; 
 Heroic in his purpose firm he stood. 
 
 And state and church unite to speak his praise. 
 Yet dearer far to us the cherished name 
 
 Which made the home the center of our bliss; 
 How fondly spoken as we bent to claim 
 
 The morning welcome and the evening kiss ! 
 We know not what new name to him is given, 
 But "Father" would we call our loved in heaven. 
 
 47 
 
SOFTLY KNELL, OH, SWEETLY TELL' 
 
 Softly knell, oh, sweetly tell 
 
 How fair a life hath sped; 
 No flower of light that starred the night 
 
 A lovelier radiance shed. 
 
 Each day outwrought such home-love thought 
 
 Ye said, " 'T is God doth give ; 
 He doth insphere this angel here 
 
 To teach us how to live. ' ' 
 
 But when sharp pain racked heart and brain, 
 
 With smile and patient sigh 
 He murmured, "Yes"— Oh, loveliness! 
 
 He taught us how to die. 
 
 48 
 
RESURGEMUS 
 
 Away from the old farm-gate it wound, 
 
 The slow, sad funeral-train; 
 For the reaper. Death, a sheaf had bound 
 
 Of the ripe and bearded grain. 
 
 Past the fold where the shuddering flocks 
 
 Wait for the whistle shrill; 
 Past the barn where the swallow mocks 
 
 The whirr of the winnowing mill; 
 
 Along where the orchard slants to the sun. 
 And the fruits ungarnered fall; 
 
 Away where the fields, half -plowed and dun. 
 Follow the moss-grown wall; 
 
 Across the stream where the drowsy herds 
 
 Rest from the noontide heat; 
 Through the grove where the brooding birds 
 
 Coo to their nestlings sweet; 
 
 Up the hill where the church spire gleams, 
 And the church bell deals its dole: 
 
 On to the grave where the sunlight streams 
 That shall quicken a living soul. 
 
 49 
 
HARRY 
 
 How the happy household darkened 
 
 With its dread and fearful doom, 
 When we shut our ray of glory 
 
 In the casket's purple gloom! 
 Just for one more look, Father ! 
 
 Can this be Thy loving will? 
 Can we bear Thy bitter chastening, 
 
 And our stricken hearts be still ? 
 
 In the weakness of our sorrow 
 
 We have said, "Thy heaven was bright; 
 Wherefore send Thy shining angels 
 
 Thus to woo him from our sight?" 
 Still he listened, smiling radiant, 
 
 While they whispered him to come; 
 Then with voice of tender pleading: 
 
 "Please take little Harry home!" 
 
 Then we kissed him for his going. 
 
 But we could not see the way 
 For the tears that fell so blinding 
 
 Where our precious treasure lay. 
 How the lilies shed their fragrance, 
 
 How the holy blossoms smiled. 
 When with sweetest "Coming! Coming!" 
 
 Went our little angel child ! 
 50 
 
HARKY 
 
 So we wait with weary yearning, 
 
 Praying God for His dear rest; 
 He hath given— He hath taken— 
 
 And He knoweth what is best. 
 Day by day he sendeth healing, 
 
 And we say with trembling will : 
 'Though He slay me, I will trust Ilim- 
 
 Trust my loving Father still." 
 
 51 
 
THE LAST SERVICE 
 
 What shall we do for Lilian, 
 
 Sweetheart Lilian dead ? 
 Light from her eyes has faded, 
 
 Songs from her lips have fled. 
 Sweetheart Lilian, 
 
 Lilian, sweetheart dead. 
 
 Shroud her in softest raiment ; 
 
 Lilian, sweetheart dear; 
 Drop a kiss on her forehead, 
 
 A kiss and a burning tear ; 
 Sweetheart Lilian, 
 
 Lilian, sweetheart dear. 
 
 Speak the dear words of comfort; 
 
 Sing as she used to do ; 
 Bear her in tender silence, 
 
 Ye who our sweetheart knew ; 
 Lilian, sweetheart, 
 
 Sweetheart Lilian true. 
 
 Leave her with Him who loved her, 
 
 Giving what earth denied, 
 Joy and a saint's sweet service 
 
 In the bridegroom's kingdom wide; 
 
 Angel Lilian, 
 Lilian, angel bride. 
 52 
 
SONNET 
 
 TO J. M. M. 
 ON THE DEATH OF HER FATHER, LONG BLIND 
 
 Oh, love! oh, light! dear one, lift up thine head!" 
 
 'T is thus thy father bids thee grieve no more : 
 
 Behold the brightness of that new-found shore 
 To which, through darkened days, his footsteps 
 
 led, 
 The Lamb of God its very soul of light ! 
 
 What rapture of the heavenly dream fulfilled ! 
 
 The anguish and the struggle softly stilled, 
 Fair morning breaking through the starless night! 
 Oh, love, her waiting angels through the years 
 
 Wrought in his heart a patience sweet, divine ; 
 
 He lived as Imeeling at Faith's holy shrine. 
 The comforter of sorrow's untold tears. 
 
 Wilt thou not listen to his tender voice? 
 "Oh, love! oh, light! daughter mine, rejoice!" 
 
 53 
 
VESPER HOME 
 
 SILENT house, in bloom embowered, 
 How sadly sweet thy twilights fall! 
 
 While through the chestnuts, many-flowered, 
 The robin sings its plaintive call. 
 
 What time my footsteps turned of yore 
 To linger in thy pleasant shade, 
 
 The form of one I see no more 
 Thy beauty and enchantment made, 
 
 The rose its queenly blossom sheds. 
 And leaf by leaf its royal bloom 
 
 Falls on her doorway, and bespreads 
 The path we followed to her tomb. 
 
 Sigh, grieving pines, she will not hear 
 The mournful music of your leaves; 
 
 The fragrance of your nightly tear 
 The whispering wind alone receives. 
 
 Cling, closer cling, dear clambering vines, 
 This was the home her heart enshrined ; 
 
 And here, in fairest vision, shines 
 The genial soul, the radiant mind. 
 
 Bright Seraph, from that mansion blest 
 Which love redeeming made for thee, 
 
 The halo of thy heavenly rest 
 Illumines Death's dread mystery. 
 54 
 
QUITO 
 
 O BEAUTEOUS Earth ! his worship didst thou know, 
 
 That thou shouldst take him to thy very heart, 
 And set thy mountains, with their sun-kissed snow. 
 
 To guard his precious dust, of thine a part? 
 Once to behold that vision of delight, 
 
 To breathe the air of thine eternal spring; — 
 And then, his soul, exultant, took its flight. 
 
 To dwell, forever, with its Lord and King. 
 Grieve not, Earth ! immortal was thy child. 
 
 And, springing from his consecrated grave,^ 
 Behold a flower, whose splendor undefiled 
 
 May yet thy darkened people cheer and save. 
 Its starry rays are lighted from above. 
 And in its heart the crimsom Cross of Love. 
 
 1 " Yonder city of Quito has stood over three hundred years, 
 yet never has seen such a day as this, —the burial of a Protes- 
 tant in a Protestant burial ground." 
 
 Colonel Staunton's Burial Service. 
 
 55 
 
IMMORTELLES 
 
 AT ST. Paul's 
 
 So sweet thy sleep, so calm and still, 
 
 I will not weep nor think it ill ; 
 
 Saviour ! keep this wrestling will. 
 
 That, night and day, my heart shall feel, 
 My lips shall say, as low I kneel : 
 ' ' In thine own way my sorrows heal ! ' ' 
 
 No whiter wreath has Love to twine 
 Than this, beneath these tears of mine ; 
 Sweet life ! she seeth how true they shine. 
 
 Her seraph voice saith : * * Love, I wait ! 
 
 Look up ; rejoice ! No hapless fate 
 
 But God's own choice brought our estate. 
 
 "His perfect plan for human need 
 
 No eye can scan, no heart can read. 
 'Love God and man' His only creed. 
 
 "Our paths diverge that better we 
 May onward press tiU each shall see 
 In thorn and scourge Love's mystery. 
 
 "His work fulfilled, again we meet, 
 Our glad souls thrilled with love complete, 
 The murmurings stilled in blessings sweet." 
 56 
 
THY WAY 
 
 In Thine own way 
 Let me be led, dear Jesus, to Thy feet. 
 Through piercing storms, through blasts of blind- 
 ing heat 
 
 In deserts gray. 
 
 In Thine own way 
 Subdue the froward heart, the stubborn will. 
 And to the warring waves the ' ' Peace, be still, ' ' 
 
 Oh, sweetly say. 
 
 In Thine own way; 
 And yet, forgive, if, failing to look up, 
 ' Take, Father, from my lips the bitter cup, ' ' 
 I sometimes pray. 
 
 In Thine own way; 
 Let me not count my suffering, grief, or loss, 
 When fainting, faltering underneath the cross 
 
 Thy love doth lay. 
 
 In Thine own way; 
 Thou wilt not break, I know, the bruised reed. 
 Though torn and quivering every fiber bleed 
 
 When rough winds sway. 
 
 In Thine own way; 
 So shall it lead me to the heavenly height ; 
 Still will I watch the guiding flame by night. 
 
 The cloud by day. 
 
 57 
 
POEMS IN WAR TIME 
 
THE LAUREATE 
 
 E. B. B. 
 
 Great, noble heart, I waited by thy grave, 
 My head uncovered in the fair, white sun 
 That rose and stood to mark the victory won. 
 While all Italia 's freemen, good and brave, 
 Dropped tears, and said, "To-day the earth is poor, 
 But heaven is rich; 'is it not so, Cavour?' " 
 Ah, Casa Guidi windows dark and still ! 
 My heart sent up one wild and bitter cry, 
 'Just when we needed most, why should she die?" 
 Whose hand shall now with tender, Christ-taught 
 
 skill 
 Probe deep our festering wound that will not heal ? 
 Where shall her mantle fall?— Then did I kneel. 
 And when my soul with love transfigured shone, 
 I prayed, for freedom's sake, would God it were 
 my own. 
 
 July, 1861. 
 
 61 
 
THE CLARION 
 
 Arm, arm, swifter than winds ! 
 Listen the voice that saith: 
 'Strike for the right with a terrible might. 
 Victory now or death ! ' ' 
 
 Stand, stand as the gray old rock 
 
 Where the ocean surges roar; 
 Beat them back or die in the track 
 
 As our fathers died of yore! 
 
 Strike, strike with a steady hand, 
 
 Battle through jBre and flood ! 
 The curse of Cain for a brother slain 
 
 Crimsons the land with blood. 
 
 Rest, rest when the work is done, 
 
 And the shackled hands are free. 
 When the sons of toil from the blood-cleansed soil 
 
 Shout, "Welcome, Liberty!" 
 August 8, 1861. 
 
THE JUBILEE 
 
 Fair Zion, daughter of the skies, 
 
 Whose wings are stretched from sea to sea, 
 The Bridegroom saith to thee— "Arise, 
 
 Proclaim my gracious Liberty! 
 Each struggling sigh, each anguished word. 
 In an accepted time I heard. 
 That thou mightst to the prisoners say, 
 'Go forth — God maketh your highway.' 
 Lo ! these from far, from west and north. 
 Wait for the trumpet's sound— the jubilee— 'Go 
 
 forth.' " 
 
 Ye Rulers, reverent and just. 
 
 So loath to take the avenging rod, 
 The hour hath come for ye to trust 
 
 The loving wisdom of our God. 
 No sun shall smite them as they go, 
 For He shall lead their footsteps slow ; 
 They shall not hunger, neither thirst. 
 He guides where springs of water burst. 
 Sing, ye heavens ! be joyful, earth ! 
 Soon shall the trumpet sound the jubilee— "Go 
 forth!" 
 
 63 
 
THE JUBILEE 
 
 Land, our land of priceless birth, 
 Thy homes are lying desolate; 
 
 Yet queens and mighty kings of earth 
 ShaU live to see thy place too strait 
 For myriad freemen that shall dwell 
 Where freemen dared God's birthright sell, 
 Who ate their flesh— wrath divine— 
 And drank their children's blood like wine. 
 Redeemer, Saviour, Mighty One, 
 
 1 hear Thy voice proclaim— "The jubilee is 
 
 come ! ' ' 
 September, 1861. 
 
 64 
 
THE FAST 
 
 A PAEAPHRASE OF THE FIFTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER 
 OF ISAIAH 
 
 Cry, cry aloud! 
 
 From out the cloud 
 There comes the trumpet's warning blare: 
 
 No more rejoice, 
 
 Lift up the voice ! 
 For Jacob's sins thou shalt not spare. 
 
 When, day by day, 
 
 Ye sought my way 
 With solemn chant and fast and prayer, 
 
 I took no heed 
 
 To Zion's need 
 That bowed in mourning, mocking there. 
 
 With fiery hate. 
 
 And dread debate, 
 Ye smote with clenched and wicked hand. 
 
 And where ye found 
 
 The prisoner bound, 
 Ye forged anew the cruel band. 
 65 
 
THE FAST 
 
 Cry, cry aloud, 
 From out the cloud, 
 * ' This is the Fast the Lord will choose ! ' ' 
 With sudden stroke 
 Break every yoke. 
 The bands of wickedness unloose! 
 
 Bring to thy door 
 
 The hungry poor, 
 That peace and love may yet abide ; 
 
 With tender care 
 
 Thy covering spare; 
 From thine own flesh thou shalt not hide! 
 
 Then shall the light 
 
 Pierce darkest night, 
 The old waste places shalt thou build; 
 
 The Lord shall guide ; 
 
 On every side 
 Thy springs with water shall be filled. 
 
 Haste, Zion, haste, 
 
 Repair the waste; 
 Restore the paths where love may dwell; 
 
 Then to thy cry 
 
 The ''Here am I" 
 Like bursting waters sweet shall swell. 
 September, 1861. 
 
 66 
 
OUR BOYS GOING TO THE WAR 
 
 As down the red October hills 
 
 The swollen torrents leap their rills 
 
 Past broken flumes and waiting mills 
 
 With rushing noise, 
 So, hand to hand, with parting thrills, 
 
 Sweep forth our boys. 
 
 Not fierce to hate but strong to dare, 
 They hunt the traitor in his lair ; 
 The loneliest cot has one to spare 
 
 From home's sweet joys; 
 The fondest heart still breathes the prayer, 
 
 ''God speed our boys!" 
 
 No hirelings from Oppression's hold. 
 
 No lawless mob in rapine bold. 
 
 No patriot cast in Freedom's mold 
 
 With base alloys ; 
 Fresh from the mint, earth's finest gold. 
 
 Our sterling boys ! 
 
 What hopes, what faith engird them round, 
 What songs of cheer to heaven resound. 
 What prayers that peace may yet abound. 
 
 Each heart employs! 
 While tears fall on the hallowed ground 
 
 Where sleep our boys. 
 67 
 
OUR BOYS GOING TO THE WAR 
 
 One thought, one prayer to Him all- wise 
 
 At morn and evening sacrifice, 
 
 Till Freedom, stooping from the skies. 
 
 Her wings shall poise; 
 And one victorious anthem rise, 
 
 God bless our boys ! 
 October 10, 1861. 
 
 68 
 
THEODORE 
 
 In the quaint old house so brown 
 
 With the lilacs under the eaves, 
 From the morning light till the sun goes down 
 
 A mother sits and grieves. 
 
 And she moans through the long, dark night, 
 "0 murmuring heart, be still! 
 He had not died in a stranger's home 
 If it had not been God 's will. ' ' 
 
 **He is sick and near to death :" 
 
 It flashed from the lightning's scroU! 
 And a shuddering terror wildly swept 
 Its darkness over her soul. 
 
 To and fro through the little room, 
 
 Parting the curtains white, 
 As waits the prisoner for his doom 
 
 She waited for news that night. 
 
 "He is dead"— it was all they said— 
 They dared not speak his name; 
 But the burning words— she knew they would 
 come — 
 They scorched in her heart like flame. 
 
 To and fro in the little room- 
 Was it the school -girls' song? 
 69 
 
THEODORE 
 
 She only heard the thunderous car 
 Crashing and crushing along, 
 
 Over the iron road, 
 
 Hard and cold as her fate, 
 Bearing with stern, remorseless speed 
 
 Its pale and precious freight. 
 
 'He is come"— it was all they said: 
 
 No need to tell her more ; 
 She knew the tread that brought her dead 
 
 So close to his mother's door. 
 
 So near and yet so far, 
 
 Can she look on his face and live ? 
 His face so strange with the cold, mute lips 
 
 Without one smile to give. 
 
 Once more, and never more, 
 
 She parts the clustering hair ; 
 She kisses his cheek, and the folded hands. 
 
 And the forehead, white and fair. 
 
 Gone — how dark and still 
 
 Is the little curtained room; — 
 
 It is years they say, it seems not a day 
 Since it laughed in light and bloom. 
 
 From the fields of living green 
 The victor's song sweeps down; 
 
 But an angel sometimes walks unseen 
 In the dear old house so brown. 
 1861. 
 
 70 
 
THE UPAS 
 
 It was very fair to see, 
 This patriarchal tree, 
 
 Spreading wide ! 
 Shading all the southern rills. 
 Overtopping northern hills 
 
 In its pride. 
 
 There the worshipers appeared, 
 Treading softly, as they feared 
 
 Holy ground; 
 Underneath its somber shade 
 Their tinkling vestments made 
 
 Pleasant sound. 
 
 Every morn there fell the rain ; 
 It was red as battle-stain ; 
 
 And the dew 
 "Was rounded from the tears 
 Wept through all the hopeless years 
 
 Since it grew. 
 
 And the fruit, ah, bitter fruit ! 
 Woe the lips that it might suit, 
 
 Crying, "More!" 
 It freighted hungry ships— 
 It was scorpions and whips 
 
 Stained with gore. 
 71 
 
THE UPAS 
 
 Like the winds that waft us death 
 Was the poison of its breath 
 
 Everywhere ; 
 All the Northland reeled in pain, 
 While the cry of millions slain 
 
 Was Despair! 
 
 Then the dread Avenger came, 
 With his flashing eyes of flame, 
 
 And his frown, 
 Saying, "Curse of all the earth 
 Is this Tree of evil birth; 
 
 Cut it down!" 
 January, 1862, 
 
 72 
 
OUR GIDEON 
 
 Nay, but we trusted him. Onward he went, 
 
 And we poured out our heart in- thanksgiving, 
 That God in his mercy a Ruler had sent 
 
 Who was worthy our loving and living. 
 In strife and in fear the dark waters were stirred, 
 
 But the tree of our hope was there swaying, 
 And the heart of the nation grew strong as it 
 
 heard, 
 'Behold! ah, behold! he is praying." 
 
 Nay, but we trusted him. Shall we forget 
 How in wisdom our counsels he guided. 
 Till the star of our freedom in beauty was set 
 
 On the brow of a nation divided? 
 'It is morning," we shouted; "ring out, ye glad 
 bells ! 
 There is hope for the poor and the lowly ; 
 Through the storm clouds that rise, through the 
 tempest that swells. 
 See the noon cometh, slowly but surely. ' ' 
 
 Nay, but we trusted him. Still will we trust. 
 
 While the dew from the fleece he is wringing ; 
 Go forward he will, and go forward he must. 
 
 To the trial of hosts we are bringing. 
 The altar is built, and the trumpet doth sound, 
 
 He hath spoken "this once" and God heareth: 
 Lo, the fleece it is dry, there is dew on the ground, 
 
 And the day of The Ransom appcareth. 
 
 August, 1862. 
 
 73 
 
SONNET 
 
 AFTER THE BATTLE OF PORT HUDSON 
 
 Dear mourning one, may not these tears attest 
 
 The right of love to come anear thy grief ? 
 Where shall the sleepless anguish find its rest 
 
 But on the hearts that yearn for thy relief? 
 Still, hour by hour, through all this fair June day— 
 
 O when shall days be fair to thee again? — 
 With quick, grieved thoughts my soul has winged its 
 way 
 And followed with thee in the weeping train. 
 Just Heaven ! If such dear blood must drench our 
 soil. 
 What priceless boon awaits this stricken land! 
 Shall not each sorrowing son of want and toil 
 Spring ransomed from the fallen oppressor's 
 hand? 
 While Freedom's flag unfurls her stainless blue 
 And all the darkened stars with new-born light shine 
 through. 
 June, 1863. 
 
 74 
 
GOD'S SUPREME 
 
 Stanton ! immortal as thy fame 
 
 Comes back the hour, linked with thy name, 
 
 When hearts were fused in War 's fierce flame. 
 
 How slumbering memories throb and beat, 
 The roll of drums, the tramp of feet. 
 The roar of guns from fort and fleet; 
 
 The palsied nation, pale with dread, 
 
 Foul treason banqueted and fed. 
 
 The White House, charnel as with dead! 
 
 Then rose the man of giant will, 
 
 Herculean labors to fulfil. 
 
 Who wrought with bright, consummate skill. 
 
 His was the patriot heart to give 
 
 The genius-thought, intuitive. 
 
 To speak and bid the dry bones live. 
 
 Once more our martyred Chief we hear: 
 ' Good friend, it doth not yet appear 
 That you no more are needed here." 
 
 And, hand in hand, and face to face, 
 He draws the Friend to his embrace— 
 The twain, the grandest of our race. 
 75 
 
GOD'S SUPREME 
 
 A nation waits beside his bier ; 
 'Good friend, we thought you needed here. 
 God knoweth best, we will not fear. 
 
 Our honors poor were not for thee; 
 Far up in higher courts we see 
 White robes of immortality. 
 January, 1870. 
 
 76 
 
HYMN 
 
 FOR THANKSGIVING 
 
 A Nation bows, with one accord, 
 In glad thanksgiving to our Lord ; 
 Their grateful praise His presence fills. 
 Like incense from a thousand hills. 
 
 His bounteous love has crowned the year 
 With harvest sheaf and ripened ear ; 
 And scattered over hill and plain 
 The fruit, the blossom, and the grain. 
 
 His truth, broadcast on many fields, 
 A richer, sweeter blessing yields; 
 And man to man in closer kin 
 Feels all the brotherhood within. 
 
 While war's dread thunder comes from far. 
 We hail with joy our Morning Star; 
 Peace lights our land from shore to shore. 
 And decks our heroes' graves once more. 
 
 Great Ruler! We adore Thy name, 
 Confess our sins with guilt and shame, 
 And with united voice we sing 
 Thanksgiving to our Lord and King. 
 November 24, 1870. 
 
 77 
 
CHARLES SUMNER 
 
 God shaped a soul in kingly mold 
 Of beaten fire that, still and cold, 
 It might his perfect image hold. 
 
 This life. He said, aU lives above. 
 The oneness of the race shall prove — 
 The unity of perfect love. 
 
 Through pain and loss it shall be mine. 
 The martyr's cross shall be the sign 
 That I have set my seal divine. 
 
 Grand and heroic, nations came 
 To wait upon His honored name. 
 And then the Law of Peace proclaim. 
 
 The dusky sons that cowered in fear 
 Bent to the earth a listening ear, 
 And heard their Great Deliverer near. 
 
 Sword-cleft, the parted sea gave way; 
 The fire by night, the cloud by day, 
 Still led them all the devious way. 
 
 Then spake that voice which, small and still, 
 The very heaven of heavens can fill, — 
 Spake, through the dying, low and still: 
 
 78 
 
CHARLES SUMNER 
 
 "Beloved Commonwealth/ thy son 
 Intrusts to thee the rights unwon; 
 See thou that God's own Will be done." 
 
 Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, 
 A nation weeps her brave and just ; 
 O royal soul, we take thy trust! 
 March, 1874. 
 
 1 When dying, Charles Sumner said to one in attendance 
 " Take care of my Civil Rights Bill." 
 
 79 
 
MISCELLANEOUS AND OCCASIONAL 
 POEMS 
 
THE ROBIN'S TAUNT 
 
 Hush, robin sweet! 
 
 The winter is here; 
 
 Oh, winter so drear 
 With its snow and its sleet ! 
 
 Why should you sing? 
 The brooks are all still, 
 And the springs are a-ehill, 
 
 Where you moistened your wing. 
 
 To my window you come ; 
 You 're a pauper at best, 
 In your little red vest ; 
 
 Shall I give you a crumb ? 
 
 What! gone, robin sweet! 
 
 Did I drive you away. 
 
 Who sang all the day 
 In the snow and the sleet? 
 
 83 
 
TRANSFIGURED 
 
 Floating on soft, light pinions, 
 
 Whiter than fairy down. 
 Came the wraiths of the blossoms, 
 
 Each with a starry crown; 
 Nestling in the tree-tops, 
 
 Fluttering to the ground. 
 Shod with a silver silence 
 
 Sweeter than voice or sound. 
 
 Suddenly flashed a glory 
 
 Out of the murlry clouds, 
 And we saw the wraiths of the blossoms, 
 
 Not in their snow-white shrouds, 
 But wearing robes of purple, 
 
 Azure, and amber and rose; 
 Was it the wraith or the blossom? 
 
 Answer it he who knows. 
 
 84 
 
TRAILING ARBUTUS 
 
 Behind the bars, self-drawn, of springtime care, 
 Pining and sick for healing of the woods 
 Made grand and tender by their solitudes, 
 
 Sudden as answer to a swift-sent prayer 
 
 Came rosy fragrance cradled soft in moss,— 
 Sweet April darlings prattling of the rain, 
 
 Their mantles braided with a fairy floss 
 Rose tinted as a shell or daisy chain. 
 
 Spring's spicy sweetness on their parted lips 
 
 Athrill with robin's carol and refrain. 
 
 pretty waifs ! already am I glad. 
 
 Who dared to say the winter was too drear, 
 
 Since, folded in his bosom, he hath had 
 This ecstasy that fills the poet's year. 
 
 85 
 
SONNET 
 
 Now winsome March, fair herald of the spring, 
 Holds firm and fast his wind-swept gonfalon 
 The while he gaily shouts and beckons on 
 
 The timid troop of flowers whose prisoning 
 
 Hath left them wan and pale as snowdrops are; 
 Sun-kissed they smile and hear th' unfettered 
 
 stream 
 Whose faint, far music thrilled their winter's 
 dream 
 
 And shaped their being to a rhythmic star. 
 
 So Nature moves unerring and divine, 
 Above, beyond our finite, clouded sense; 
 But when a greater — our Omnipotence — 
 
 Speaks to the soul, it needs not voice nor sign. 
 In Him we live and move, our being His, 
 And Love discerns all Nature's mysteries. 
 
 86 
 
IMPROMPTU 
 
 Hear the valley lily's chime, 
 Sweeter than a poet's rh.yme, 
 Happy birthday! joyous time! 
 
 Apple blossoms— drifting snow- 
 Strew the pathway as we go 
 "Where the crimson tulips blow; 
 
 Starry innocence all white, 
 Almond blossoms soft and bright, 
 Flushed with morning's rosy light. 
 
 Dandelions in the grass 
 
 All their censers swing ''at mass," 
 
 Jack-a-preaching as we pass. 
 
 Here the fire-bush, all aflame, 
 Kindles when I call your name; 
 Happy hero! born to fame,— 
 
 Of a dozen years and one, 
 Quarter first of life begun. 
 Brimming now with boyish fun. 
 
 Birds are flitting here and there, 
 Twitter, twitter everywhere: 
 Oriole the debonair, 
 
 87 
 
IMPROMPTU 
 
 Chickadee so brown and sweet, 
 
 Robin-red upon his beat, 
 
 For the young ones have to eat; 
 
 And the bees are all alive, 
 
 Swarming from the busy hive ; 
 
 Hear them humming, ' ' Work and thrive ! ' 
 
 Now we find our tangled glade 
 Where the ferns nod in the shade. 
 And the pansies, half afraid. 
 
 Drop their lashes, oh, so shy; 
 Pansy ! Pansy ! tell me why 
 Such a love-light in your eye? 
 
 Happy birthday ! may the rest 
 
 Be as simply, purely blest, 
 
 Joy of springtime for your guest. 
 
 88 
 
MY DIAEY 
 
 A WILD flower crushed between the leaves, 
 
 Sweet perfume of the past ; 
 For if one joys or if one grieves, 
 
 It will not last. 
 
 Yet Hope's fruition day by day 
 
 Forbids despair; 
 Not what we were brings peace and rest, 
 
 But what we are. 
 
 89 
 
FLOWERS IN SICKNESS 
 
 SWEET, sweet ministry of flowers! My heart, 
 That moved so sluggish in its course to-day, 
 So dull and cumbrous with its weight of clay, 
 
 Felt in their presence quickened pulses start. 
 
 Till happy tears ran down my cheeks like rain — 
 The bloom of summer brightened all the room. 
 And soaring song-birds, through the rifts of 
 gloom. 
 
 Sent joyous thrills of quickened life again. 
 
 Oh, sweet, sweet ministry of love! for this 
 From bud and rose the balmy wine I sip, 
 Till, on the honeysuckle's moistened lip, 
 
 1 find Love's embassage, the heart- warm kiss. 
 Dear, thoughtful Ruth, the angel thus to be 
 Of fragrant alms and tender sympathy. 
 
 90 
 
DISTRUST 
 
 Oh, wherefore grieving and downcast? 
 God's sunshine, it will come at last. 
 Why murmur thus disconsolate? 
 Open thy heart and patient wait. 
 
 Again thy quickened pulse shall glow, 
 Again His presence shalt thou know ; 
 The clouds will lift, the darkness flee. 
 And songs upon thy lips shall be. 
 
 91 
 
RECOIL 
 
 YOU who were not kind or sweet, 
 Why lay these laurels at my feet? 
 The laurel holds the winter's chill; 
 No balm its bitter buds distil. 
 
 1 wear instead this pale, sweet rose 
 Whose faintest flush my being knows; 
 And once again my pulses thrill, 
 Awaiting love's transcendent will. 
 
 92 
 
GLEN IRIS 
 
 Sweet sylvan Solitude! thy genius came! 
 
 Long ages waited for the tryst to be, 
 
 And in a poet's dream of ecstasy, 
 
 All smiles and tears, he spake thy fond, new name, 
 
 Glen Iris ! and the voice of mountain rills 
 
 With low, melodious thunder woke the hills 
 
 In answering echo, and the swaying vines 
 
 Made leafy canopies, fair forest shrines 
 
 For silent worship ; fairy troops of ferns 
 
 Bent in a mute obeisance as they passed, 
 
 Where velvet mosses had their mantles cast, 
 
 Leading the way to nectar-brimming urns; 
 
 And over all the softly veiling mist, 
 
 Now rose, now changing pearl and lovely amethyst. 
 
 93 
 
TABLE ROCK 
 
 LOWER FALLS OF THE GENESEE 
 
 It Cometh with its maddened rush, 
 The fierce and foaming tide, 
 
 As bounds the war-horse in the flush 
 Of victory and pride; 
 
 Cometh, cometh 
 To leap the mountain-side. 
 
 And yet the fearless stream was nursed 
 
 In silent glen and glade, 
 And softly tried its strength when first 
 
 It left the sylvan shade ; 
 Softly, softly 
 
 It leaped the bright cascade. 
 
 It glided round the forest hill 
 
 To kiss the bending flower ; 
 And murmured to the dancing rill 
 
 That left its shady bower,— 
 Murmured, murmured 
 
 Of future pride and power. 
 
 Then on and on it swiftly sped, 
 Till, from the trembling shore. 
 
 The drooping blossom bent its head, 
 But kissed the wave no more; 
 
 Drooping, drooping 
 To hear its hollow roar. 
 
 94 
 
TABLE EOCK 
 
 And now the fearful cliff and crag 
 O'erhang with threatening face, 
 
 And wildly, madly, down they drag 
 The torrent to their place; 
 
 Wildly, wildly 
 It struggles in the chase. 
 
 They press its sides ; it sways and moans. 
 
 So fearful is the shock ; 
 But, plunging on, it proudly foams 
 
 Their iron grasp to mock; 
 Plunging, plunging, 
 
 It vaults o'er Table Rock. 
 
 95 
 
LOVE'S UNITY 
 
 Ever as the May returns, 
 
 Hymen's torch more brightly burns— 
 
 Sacred fire that Love inurns. 
 
 Through the years its joyous light 
 Made the hearth-stone warm and bright, 
 Quickened hearts with new delight. 
 
 Childish footsteps went and came, 
 Mirth and music, song and game 
 Guided by its oriflamme. 
 
 And a holier light was shed 
 When the parting word was said 
 In a tearful, tender dread. 
 
 And its ray shone like a star 
 When the tidings from afar- 
 Cruel as death's tidings are— 
 
 Shrouded heaven itself from view. 
 
 Heart of home pierced through and through, 
 
 In that anguish strange and new. 
 
 'Not my will but Thine" again, 
 Christ had risen, death was slain, 
 Peace came slowly after pain. 
 
 Then was perfect Love made known. 
 Home's dear hearth its altar-stone. 
 And its fire was heaven's own. 
 96 
 
ISABEL SOMERSET 
 
 Dear Lady Somerset, thy name we speak 
 
 And claim thee heart-guest with as fond a tone 
 As if, indeed, thou wert our very own, 
 
 With that pure English rose upon thy cheek; 
 
 Daughter of dukes and mother of an earl, 
 Thy noble lineage all understood, 
 
 We see upon thy brow but one fair pearl, 
 
 The peerless gift of heaven,— thy womanhood. 
 
 By virtue of this talisman divine. 
 
 The weary, tempted, fallen ones of earth 
 Become thy kindred in that wondrous birth 
 
 Where God the Spirit sets His seal and sign. 
 As came our Saviour, not to rich and great, 
 So thou to lowly lives art wholly consecrate. 
 
 97 
 
WHY? 
 
 Why comes the low voice of command 
 On wings of lightning through the land? — 
 Arise, woman, fearless stand! 
 
 Why falter not her tireless feet ? 
 
 Why do the trembling lips repeat 
 
 The soul- wrung prayer in church and street? 
 
 Why, for her cradle songs, more dear 
 
 Than chant of angels, do we hear 
 
 The martyr's hymn ring sweet and clear? 
 
 Why, timid, shrinking, can she bear 
 The taunt, the jeer-polluted air. 
 The cynic's sneer, the ruffian's stare? 
 
 Why hath God girded her with might 
 
 To put the hosts of sin to flight. 
 
 To turn the key that bars from right? 
 
 Why hath He brought her low,— so low 
 That every fluttering pulse of woe 
 Beats in her heart with throb and throe? 
 
 God knoweth why. He understood 
 Why Bethlehem's blessing. Calvary's rood. 
 Must come through holy motherhood. 
 98 
 
WHY? 
 
 He gave tlie heart whose love can trace 
 
 The angel in the demon's face, 
 
 Her child, though smitten with disgrace. 
 
 He gave the strong, defiant will 
 That seeks its own through every ill— 
 Child, husband, brother, father still. 
 
 He gave the pleading, constant prayer 
 That wearies heaven that He might share 
 The burdens that His children bear. 
 
 woman, faint not, nor repine, 
 This consecrated work is thine ; 
 Thy kingdom shall be made divine. 
 
 Thy kingdom, perfect shall it be, 
 With "little children" at thy knee, 
 The home of peace and purity. 
 
 And, therefore, through the land a cry,- 
 Awake, arise, thine hour is nigh! 
 Be sure God laiows the reason why! 
 
 99 
 
WOMAN'S RIGHT 
 
 "Ye twain shall be one tiesh, " the Scripture said, 
 And man replied, "Yea, I will be the head. 
 And she the hands, forevermore to serve; 
 And if from my commands her footsteps swerve, 
 She then shall go in sorrow, lacking bread,— 
 Not only earthly food, but bread divine ; 
 I have the kingly right and she is mine. ' ' 
 But lo ! a better wisdom comes to-day ; 
 The version is revised, and good men say : 
 
 ' ' What blindness hid from us the Lord 's design ! 
 Twin-souled we stand and each to each defers, 
 Instant as thought we say, not 'his,' or 'hers,' 
 But 'ours,' and in that clearer, purer light 
 Fades out the baleful star of 'Woman's Right.' " 
 
 100 
 
THE GATES OF PEARL 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE "PARLIAMENT OF RELIGIONS," 1893 
 
 In the White City, with its treasures vast, 
 
 From out all nations, and beyond compare, 
 There shone the "Gates of Pearl," through which 
 there passed 
 The world's evangels, to a temple fair, 
 And yet unseen by unanointed eyes, 
 
 Where stood the angel Peace, with outstretched 
 hands 
 To welcome with sweet ardor of surprise 
 
 These arbiters of love, from many lands, 
 'Praise God," they sang, "From Whom All Bless- 
 ings Flow,"— 
 And with bowed heads they sought the great 
 All-Good, 
 Pleading the Christ in life, whom each must know 
 Who feels the bond— one blood— one brother- 
 hood. 
 His tabernacle is with men, he dwells with them, 
 Making new earth — new heaven — the new 
 Jerusalem, 
 
 101 
 
CORREGGIO 
 
 THE PATE OP GENroS 
 
 The celebrated artist, Antonio Allegri da Con-eggio, retixming on foot from 
 Parma with sixty crowns in copper coin, the price received for his last pic- 
 tiu'e, the Madonna, sank exhausted by the margin of a water-fall, near Correg- 
 gio. Stooping to refresh himself with a cooling draught from the stream, a 
 blood-vessel burst, and his gentle spirit departed to the better land. He 
 died at the age of thirty-nine, in the year 1534. 
 
 O Genius ! thou hast many sons of name 
 To wake the echo of triumphant fame : 
 
 Eternal praise ! 
 And thou hast daughters, holy, pure, and bright, 
 Upon whose brow a calm, celestial light 
 Forever plays. 
 
 And yet, thy favored children, in the spring 
 
 Of life and gladness, when the heart should bring 
 
 Its fairest flowers,— 
 Thy children, panting with an eager thirst 
 For shining streams, whence living fountains 
 burst, 
 
 Have left earth's bowers. 
 
 But ah ! a sadder fate than early grave 
 
 They oft have known!— to breast affliction's wave 
 
 Till want and care 
 Have silvered locks, and furrowed blooming 
 
 cheeks, 
 And strung the maddened wire which sternly 
 speaks 
 
 The heart's despair. 
 102 
 
CORREGGIO 
 
 And they have died, by Fortune 's hirelings 
 
 spurned, 
 Till heavenward wings the soul, and men have 
 learned 
 
 Their cheerless fate; 
 Then Fame, with trumpet-tongue, proclaims 
 
 aloud, 
 But wakes no pulse beneath the humble shroud,— 
 'T is all too late! 
 
 Such are thy children. Genius, such their life ; 
 With brilliant fancies, yet with sorrows rife. 
 
 They pass from earth;— 
 Such was immortal White, whose notes have stirred 
 The hearts of thousands, trembling on the word 
 
 His thought gave birth. 
 
 The bard of Ayrshire, with his melting song, 
 Which flowed like Af ton's gentle stream along. 
 
 Amid green braes ; 
 "Misfortune's cauld nor 'west" he keenly knew, 
 And scarce received the honor justly due, 
 
 The meed of praise. 
 
 And he, the minstrel of a noble line. 
 Who downward stooped to touch a thought 
 sublime,— 
 
 Alas! he died 
 Thy victim. Genius, in a foreign land, 
 With fearful temper, ill at his command. 
 And much of pride. 
 103 
 
CORKEGGIO 
 
 Beloved Hemans, honored queen of song; 
 Thy daughter, too, she comes amid the throng, 
 
 Serene and slow; 
 Grief hath been hers, the wasting grief of years. 
 And o'er her quivering lyre the silent tears 
 
 In anguish flow. 
 
 And ye, sweet sisters of the bright Champlain, 
 Ye star-eyed spirits of a seraph train, 
 
 Ye dwell not here ; 
 Exiled to earth, your longing souls have flown 
 Back to their native land, their angel home, 
 
 In brighter sphere. 
 
 Lamented Mozart, Genius' darling child, 
 With music in his heart so deep, so wild, 
 
 'T was angel tone ;— 
 He poured his gushing soul in plaintive song, 
 His requiem chanted as he passed along 
 
 Through Death's dark zone. 
 
 And he, the artist improvisatore,^ 
 Whose sculptured brow that shade of paleness 
 wore 
 
 Which want doth know; 
 Like to his own Prometheus, bound, he stood; 
 Endured, for bold and heaven-aspiring mood, 
 
 The vulture, woe. 
 
 ^ Salvator Rosa. 
 104 
 
CORREGGIO 
 
 And sucli, Genius ! are thy favored ones, 
 
 Thy high-souled daughters and most noble sons— 
 
 Their home the sky; 
 Thou givest burning thoughts and hopes of fame, 
 But dost bequeath them but a mortal frame, 
 
 And they must die. 
 
 And yet, stern sire, one solace thou dost give ; 
 Their mighty works imperishable live 
 
 While ages flow;— 
 So live the works of him to whom belong 
 The feeble honors of undying song, 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 n 
 
 'T WAS morn, and the rich Italian sky 
 
 Was a sea of molten gold, 
 As wave on wave, in its gorgeous dye, 
 
 To the western ocean rolled ; 
 And tower, and tree, and the woodland bright 
 Were bathed in a soft and mellow light. 
 
 All beauteous to behold. 
 
 Alone, in his humble cottage door, 
 
 Was an artist wan and pale ; 
 He saw not the vine his lattice o'er, 
 
 Nor heeded the passing gale ; 
 But, eager, he bent his piercing eyes 
 On visions that floated in cloudless skies. 
 
 And he murmured thus, ' ' All hail ! 
 105 
 
CORREGGIO 
 
 'All hail, ye bright-winged spirits of morn! 
 
 I listen your voices' chime; 
 There sits on your brow no shade of scorn 
 
 To wither this heart of mine. 
 Ye call me hence and I would not stay, 
 For life is a weary, weary day;— 
 
 I long for the sinless clime." 
 
 'Wouldst thou leave me thus, Correggio?" 
 
 Said a voice of tender spell; 
 'Whom hath your Maddalcne here below 
 
 But him she hath loved so well ? 
 Thou shalt not die till the breath of fame 
 Hath borne to the great thine honored name, 
 
 And the world thy glories tell. ' ' 
 
 A laugh rang out on the summer air 
 
 With a sweet and childish glee ; 
 A bold, bright boy with his sunny hair 
 
 Was beside his mother's knee; 
 ' I will toil for these, ' ' the artist cried ; 
 ' Fame ! for thy fading wreath I 've sighed, 
 
 But I sigh no more for thee." 
 
 Wearily, wearily toiled he on, 
 
 Till the eye no more was bright ; 
 The fading flush from his cheek had gone, 
 
 And gone was the spirit's light; 
 The world looked on with its cheerless gaze, 
 Then turned again to its busy ways, 
 
 Nor pondered the mournful sight. 
 106 
 
CORREGGIO 
 
 It was eve, and the biirning stars looked out, 
 
 And the perfumed air was still ; 
 No voice was heard save the gushing shout 
 
 Of the merry forest rill ; 
 Away, away o'er the mountain-side 
 The moon beamed forth in her peerless pride, 
 
 And silvered each vale and hill. 
 
 The artist passed on his weary way 
 
 From the stately halls of mirth ; 
 With cheerful heart he had toiled all day 
 
 For the proud and great of earth: 
 But now, as the evening shades came on 
 And he bore his toil-earned burden home, 
 
 Oh ! the bitter thought had birth. 
 
 He, fainting, paused in the silent wood 
 And quaffed of the cooling stream. 
 
 The life-blood rose to the silver flood. 
 And he murmured, ''Maddalene, 
 
 Oh, Maddalene ! we shall meet no more, 
 
 And the hope and fear alike are o 'er ; 
 Farewell to the artist's dream!" 
 
 But list ! on the air are voices low 
 
 As the evening's plaintive sigh. 
 And Maddalene breathes, "Correggio, 
 I am with thee here to die"; 
 But the pale-browed sleeper knew it not. 
 For the griefs of earth were all forgot— 
 
 He had found his home on high. 
 107 
 
SPIRIT GUESTS 
 
 There are shadows flitting, flitting 
 
 'er the sunlight of this heart, 
 In their wildness ever fitting 
 
 To the outward counterpart; 
 Daring dreams of proud ambition, 
 
 Darkened by the flight of years. 
 Moments, joyous in fruition, 
 
 Yielding to an age of tears. 
 
 There are whispers thrilling, thrilling 
 
 All this anxious, eager soul, 
 With a strange, sweet impulse filling 
 
 Till it brooks not my control ; 
 "Whispers of the pure and holy, 
 
 Calling to a far-off shore. 
 Where the shade of melancholy 
 
 Flits across the soul no more. 
 
 There is music stealing, stealing 
 
 From the flow 'ret 's trembling bell. 
 Soft its vesper chimes are pealing 
 
 In the spirits' cloistered cell; 
 'T is the hour of sweet devotion,— 
 
 Hence, unhallowed doubts and fears! 
 Grief is ours on life's dark ocean. 
 
 But the haven hath no tears. 
 108 
 
SPIRIT GUESTS 
 
 There are visions cheering, cheering 
 
 As the chilling shadows creep, 
 At the twilight hour appearing 
 
 When the heart is prone to weep ; 
 Visions varied, truthful, tender, 
 
 O'er the spirit-clouds they rise. 
 Hallowed by a dreamy splendor 
 
 Gathered only from the skies. 
 
 109 
 
A MEMORY 
 
 'Come here, little sweet- voiced Kitty, 
 
 And sit beside my knee. 
 There, let me take your hand in mine. 
 
 For Grandma cannot see. 
 Look at the clock, the kind old clock, 
 
 And tell me when it is ten; 
 I feel as if my heart would break 
 
 When they toll the bell again. ' ' 
 
 'Grandma, here is a little rose — 
 
 I knew they would n 't care 
 If I took just one from the pretty crown 
 
 They plaited for her hair ; 
 It did n 't seem she could be dead, 
 
 She looked so sweet and fair." 
 
 'Pretty rose, she was always fair, 
 
 And she came so every day 
 To smooth my pillow and set my chair 
 
 Out of the sunshine's way. 
 Ah me, to be so old and blind, 
 
 And she to go the first. 
 Kitty, I wish that I could cry, 
 
 For my heart is like to burst. ' ' 
 110 
 
A MEMORY 
 
 ' ' Grandma, here is a little shred 
 
 I picked up from the floor, 
 Because you always liked to know 
 
 What Cousin Sarah wore ; 
 I think a dress so soft and white 
 
 She never had before." 
 
 "Pretty lamb, it was none too white. 
 It was none too soft for her; 
 
 But, Kitty, the folds that lie on her heart 
 No breath of life will stir. 
 
 She wears in heaven the spotless robe- 
 Whiter than this, I know; 
 
 It may be wrong for me to grieve. 
 But, Kitty, I miss her so." 
 
 ' ' Grandma, here is a little braid ; 
 
 When you went to see her last 
 You smoothed the damp locks of her hair. 
 
 And when her hand you clasped 
 She turned her head that you should n 't feel 
 
 The tears that fell so fast. ' ' 
 
 ''Pretty one, did she grieve so much? 
 It is something sweet to know ; 
 Turn my chair to the window west, 
 
 That is the way they will go. 
 Hark ! the bell, and I hear the wheels ; 
 
 I did n 't think it was ten ; 
 She never used to pass my door, 
 But it is not now as then." 
 Ill 
 
A MEMORY 
 
 "Grandma, Grandma, Eatty is here, 
 I will love yon all the more ; 
 
 There, let me wipe yonr tears away. 
 And sing you the 'Shining Shore'; 
 
 You have not lost your pretty lamb, 
 She has only gone before. ' ' 
 
 " So it is best. I see it now. 
 
 But it seems so long to wait ; 
 Kitty, to be so old and blind, 
 
 I have murmured at my fate ; 
 But sing me again the hymn we love. 
 
 It tells of the 'Cross and Crown'— 
 When the shock of corn is fully ripe. 
 
 Then will He cut it down." 
 
 112 
 
THE PIONEERS 
 
 JULY 4, 1876 
 
 Ripe as the fruit with its cheek to the sun 
 
 And ready to fall, 
 Here they are gathering, one by one,— 
 
 Honored guests of us all. 
 Cheer on cheer for the pioneer, 
 Who never said fail, who never knew fear; 
 Cherish them proudly for victories won, 
 Now that the century's work is done. 
 
 In their mountain homes a call they heard— 
 
 Westward Ho ! 
 There were trembling lips, and the parting word 
 
 Ere the weary march and slow ; 
 Woods on woods, and floods on floods, 
 Tangled swamps and solitudes, 
 Lit with the wild azaleas' bloom, 
 Honeyed sweet in their rich perfume. 
 
 Bourne of bliss ! They have reached at last 
 
 The Genesee, 
 But on to its tribute stream they passed. 
 
 Fairer than all to see ; 
 Down from the hills the sparkling rills 
 Were rushing to turn the busy mills, 
 And the valleys slept, like a dream of joy. 
 Ready to waken— fair Le Roy. 
 
 113 
 
THE PIONEEES 
 
 Ready for churches, spire on spire, 
 
 And the Round House quaint ; 
 Ready for Academa's fire. 
 
 With its wise and sweet restraint : 
 For the pillared dome, the school-girl's home, 
 Art and science, fairy and gnome, — 
 These, and more, from their dream awoke 
 When the echoes answered the first firm stroke. 
 
 While the father swung the ringing axe, 
 
 Forests crashing down. 
 The mother cheerily broke the flax 
 
 To make her homespun gown. 
 Beetle and wedge and the sharp, keen edge 
 Of the brier-hook in the tangled hedge. 
 And then the wheat waved, mile on mile. 
 With cradlers and binders, rank and file. 
 
 Merrily now through the fields of grain 
 
 The reapers ride. 
 The golden sheaves over hill and plain 
 
 Are gaily tossed aside, 
 With cheer on cheer for the pioneer. 
 Who leveled the forests dense and drear, 
 Heaping the crackling fagots high. 
 That shot their flames to the midnight sky. 
 
 Blithe the song at our peaceful toil ; 
 
 What if there fell. 
 As the ploughshare tore through the knotted soil. 
 
 The war-whoop's fiendish yell, 
 
 114 
 
THE PIONEERS 
 
 And we shuddering gazed where the hamlet blazed, 
 
 While wife and children, terror crazed. 
 
 Fled from the cruel, savage foe? 
 
 Ah, but the cost of our peace they know ! 
 
 There were foes within, and the heavy hand 
 
 Of a despot's power 
 Hurling the red-coats over the land- 
 Shot and shell in an iron shower; 
 But cheer on cheer for the pioneer. 
 For the stars and stripes they held so dear— 
 The century floats our flag to-day. 
 And Freedom will guard it, aye and aye. 
 
 Veterans, heroes, bravest of men,— 
 
 Bravest of women ! take 
 Homage of children, wreathing again 
 
 The white, red, and blue for your sake. 
 With cheer on cheer for the pioneer, 
 Who never said fail, who never knew fear; 
 Cherish them proudly for victories' won, 
 Now that the century's work is done. 
 
 115 
 
INGHAM ALUMNA REUNION 
 
 WELCOME SONG 
 
 Ye come, ye come, and the voice of our greeting 
 
 To the loved ones returning a welcome shall bring ; 
 Though we parted in sadness, the sunshine of meeting 
 
 O 'er the fair Feast of Friendship its roses shall fling. 
 We twine for the absent a wreath of remembrance; 
 
 Pale blossoms for those we shall meet here no more ; 
 Each bud, as it brightens, shall be the sweet semblance 
 
 Of the love that awaits us where partings are o'er. 
 
 Then welcome, friends, welcome, happy the strain! 
 Let the glad halls reecho, "We 're home once 
 
 again. ' ' 
 Like the chiming of waters its music shall flow, 
 And no song shall be SAveeter as onward we go. 
 
 Ye come, ye come, and each heart shall awaken, 
 With hope and with zeal burning brightly anew; 
 
 To our life-work we go with a faith still unshaken. 
 For "the harvest is great and the laborers few." 
 
 Once more to the counsels of love we will listen, 
 
 And angels to join us shall ope heaven's gate, 
 While fair on our vision the jasper walls glisten, 
 And the ' ' Faithful and True ' ' His redeemed ones 
 await. 
 
 116 
 
INGHAM ALUMNA REUNION 
 
 Then welcome, friends, welcome, happy the 
 
 strain ! 
 Let the glad halls reecho, "We 're home once 
 
 again. ' ' 
 Like the chiming of waters its music shall flow. 
 And no song shall be sweeter as onward we go. 
 
 117 
 
NOBLESSE OBLIGE 
 
 INGHAM UNIVERSITY, 1876 
 
 Like some emblazoned honor-roll, 
 
 We saw upon our walls the scroll 
 
 That youthful fingers deft and fleet 
 
 Had wrought for welcome proud and sweet ;- 
 
 Noblesse Oblige! with sudden thrill 
 
 Youth's holy ardor burned until 
 
 Each looked to each with kindling eyes— 
 
 What hast thou wrought of high emprise? 
 
 Art thou, friend, the chevalier 
 
 That knew not of reproach or fear? 
 
 What patient victory hast thou won? 
 
 What deeds unselfish silent done? 
 
 The cup of water hast thou given, 
 
 And till the dawn with angels striven? 
 
 What act of love, so lowly, good, 
 
 That but the Master understood? 
 
 Hast thou been sorrow's tender liege?— 
 
 Then mayest thou wear Noblesse Oblige. 
 
 118 
 
PARTING HYMN - 
 
 INGHAM UNIVERSITY, 1876 
 
 Our fathers ' God ! We own thy power 
 To conquer in the darkest hour; 
 To bring the nations to confess 
 Thy wisdom and thy holiness. 
 
 The centuries drop their golden sand; 
 We are but atoms in thine hand, 
 But, over all, thy tender thought 
 Its miracles of love hath wrought. 
 
 Thou who art far, yet ever near, 
 
 Bend low our parting words to hear, 
 
 And with a nation's tribute take 
 
 The song our youthful hearts would make. 
 
 Grant to the daughters of our race 
 That heritage of heavenly grace, 
 The right to wear the crowns they win. 
 And glad millenniums usher in. 
 
 119 
 
MAY 19 1903