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THE 
 
 POETS 
 
 OF 
 
 ESSEX COUNTY, 
 
 MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 By SIDNEY PERLEY, 
 ii 
 
 Author of "History of Boxford, Mass.;" "Goodridge Memorial;" etc. 
 
 Poetry ! the gem that gilds 
 The world of letters, and gives 
 Expression to soul beauty. 
 
 Salem, Mass.: 
 SIDNEY PERLEY. 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1888, by 
 
 SIDNEY PERLEY, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 PRINTED AT THE SALEM PRESS. 
 
In 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 7\CC f^\^ tne dignity of Poetry," says Cam- 
 ]T 1 W den, in his Remains, "much hath bene 
 
 ^ faid by the worthy Sir Philip Sidney, 
 
 & by the Gentleman which proued that Poets were the 
 firft Politicians, the firft Philofophers, the firft Hifto- 
 riographers. I will onely adde out of Philo, that they 
 were Gods owne creatures, who in his Booke de Plan- 
 talione Noe, reporteth, that when he had made the 
 whole worlds maffe ; he created Poets to celebrate & 
 fet out the Creator himfelfe, and all the Creatures : you 
 Poets read the place and you will like it." 
 
 Although we may not fully agree with the ancient 
 writers, it is indeed true that poets occupy no insignifi- 
 cant position. If we believe the words of. Fletcher of 
 Saltoun, when he says, " Let who will make the laws 
 of a nation if I may write its songs, " there must be 
 some power in poetry stronger than the judiciary itself 
 in the control of that nation. The poet Whittier made 
 
 " . . . .his rustic reed of song 
 A weapon in the war with wrong." 
 
 (3) 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 And the poet Massey strings his lyre 
 
 " For the cause that lacks assistance, 
 . For the wrong that needs resistance, 
 
 For the future in the distance, 
 
 And the good that he can do. " 
 
 They deserve an equal honor with our statesmen and 
 historians, and our clergymen, too, if we believe, with 
 Longfellow, that 
 
 " God sent his singers upon earth 
 With songs of sadness and of mirth, 
 That they might touch the hearts of men, 
 And bring them back to heaven again. " 
 
 Much has been published in Essex county relating 
 to its prose writers, and its statesmen and theologians, 
 but very little concerning its poets. This seemed a gap 
 in our literature that ought to be filled, and it has been 
 our endeavor to supply that want by this little volume 
 of short biographical sketches of our verse writers and 
 selections from their productions. 
 
 Most of our spare time during the last nine years 
 has been given to this work ; and an almost incredible 
 amount of labor has been performed in the reading 
 and criticism of probably ten thousand poems, and in 
 extensive correspondence and research for the discov- 
 ery of writers and for biographical material before the 
 preparation of the volume could be begun. 
 
 Sidney Perley. 
 
 Salem, Mass., Dec. ji, 1888. 
 
THE POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Anew country produces very little ornamental 
 literature, — the rough life of frontiersmen 
 tending from such pursuits. New England 
 was no exception to this rule. Engaged in clearing the 
 forest and tilling the barren soil with their few and rude 
 implements, securing for themselves food, clothing and 
 shelter, and ever on the alert lest the Indians should 
 surprise and massacre the household, the time and abil- 
 ities of the early settlers were consumed. Isolated from 
 each other they lacked the mental growth and strength 
 and culture that mind in contact with mind obtains ; 
 and with little or no means of education, the growth of 
 a literary life was necessarily very slow. And yet from 
 its earliest settlement, Essex county had its literary peo- 
 ple who published more or less. Anne Bradstreet wrote 
 here early in the seventeenth century, as also did the fa- 
 mous Nathaniel Ward, author of "The Simple Cobbler 
 of Agawam." As the country grew older war after war 
 disturbed its life, reducing its strength and culture, and 
 hindering that natural literary growth which was the le- 
 gitimate result of our later school system. The orna- 
 
 (5) 
 
6 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 mental had appeared in our literature to a limited ex- 
 tent only. After the close of the Revolution, education 
 began a new era. Schools and colleges multiplied in 
 number and improved in quality. At this juncture po- 
 etry in our literature becomes prominent. Since that 
 time the number of writers has constantly and greatly 
 increased ; and in Essex county alone there have been 
 several hundred writers of poetry, most of whom have 
 published their efforts in contemporary periodical liter- 
 ature. The names of many early versifiers are lost on 
 account of their poems having been published anony- 
 mously, or under assumed names ; and still earlier we 
 cannot doubt there were many writers of poetry of whom 
 we have never learned, — who wrote but never published 
 their productions. The local newspapers have been to 
 a great extent the occasion of the large number of mod- 
 ern writers. Their columns are open to any local effort 
 that is of passable quality ; and the interest and ambi- 
 tion thus engendered and fostered have caused new and 
 special endeavors to be taken in this direction. In such 
 ways began to write Whittier, Emerson, and other poets 
 of our day. 
 
 Among the numerous prose writers of Essex county 
 it was but natural that there should be those who could 
 write in measure and with rhythm. From Nathaniel 
 Hawthorne, the greatest American novelist, down 
 through the line of lesser writers of fiction ; from Hub- 
 bard and Prescott, the historians, and other contribu- 
 tors to our historical literature ; from Ward and Story, 
 the authors of treatises on the law; and from other 
 
GENERAL SKETCH. 7 
 
 writers of many books on art, science and theology, po- 
 ets have come to complete the canon of our literature. 
 
 Nearly all of the great American poets have some 
 connection with Essex county. At Newbury, in an old 
 mansion lately standing, the great-grandfather of Long- 
 fellow was born ; and at the Jonathan Johnson house at 
 Nahant his "Song of Hiawatha" was written. James 
 Russell Lowell also traces his family back to old New- 
 bury, where his lineal ancestors- lived for several gener- 
 ations ; and Ralph Waldo Emerson is a direct descend- 
 ant of the Ipswich family of that name. 
 
 There were several distinguished writers, who resided 
 here for so short a time as hardly to have become resi- 
 dents, and are therefore not properly admissible to this 
 volume. Among them was President John Q. Adams, 
 who studied law in Newburyport, and while there wrote 
 some good hymns. He afterwards contributed poetry 
 to The Token, and other publications. The celebrated 
 Robert Treat Paine, son of the signer of the Declaration 
 of Independence of that name, also studied law in New- 
 buryport, in the office of Theophilus Parsons. He 
 made his name immortal by writing, in 1 798, at the age 
 of twenty- five, his celebrated national song, entitled 
 "Adams and Liberty," beginning, 
 
 " Ye sons of Columbia who so bravely have fought 
 
 For those rights which unstained from your sires had descended, 
 May you long taste the blessings your valor has bought, 
 And your sons reap the soil which your fathers defended ! 
 'Mid the reign of mild peace 
 May your nation increase 
 
8 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 With the glory of Rome and the wisdom of Greece ! 
 And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves 
 While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves." 
 
 Nathaniel Parker Willis was an early summer resident 
 at Nahant, and Oliver Wendell Holmes at Beverly 
 Farms. At Manchester have resided James T. Fields, 
 Richard H. Dana, and James Freeman Clarke. 
 
 The poets of Essex county have published a number 
 of pamphlets and one hundred and forty bound volumes 
 of poems. They have clothed their thoughts in many 
 forms, and produced many varieties of poetry, — hymns, 
 lyrics, idyls, songs, epics, satires, dramas, and occa- 
 sional poems. With some the sonnet has been the fa- 
 vorite form, and a few have written in blank verse. 
 
 The county has been particularly favored by its many 
 sweet singers, whose words cheer the heart stricken 
 with sorrow, give variety and a fulness and finish to 
 the literary exercises of public gatherings, prevent their 
 spread by showing in a pleasing way the error or shal- 
 lowness of certain popular customs and opinions, give 
 a greater and more varied effect to our stage, and in 
 hymns reach the heart of the outcast, cheer the world- 
 weary soul, and furnish a medium of praise to the ob- 
 ject of our worship. The spirit of freedom is breathed 
 as a part of the life of the people, and it has gone out 
 in songs to cheer and support and stir up the inhabi- 
 tants of other lands in battling for liberty. Our songs 
 rang through the camps in the Revolution, and inspired 
 the disheartened soldiers in the war of the Rebellion. 
 
GENEBAL SKETCH. 9 
 
 The abolition of slavery in our country was largely due 
 to our poets, — Whittier, Garrison, and others. 
 
 Our storied valleys and hills and streams have fur- 
 nished themes for the lyric and idyl. Our hills and rivers 
 and ocean are grand and inspiring, and over them all 
 are the beautiful colors and diversity of form and arrange- 
 ment of the clouds, which make our sunrises and sun- 
 sets in delicacy and deepness of color and grandeur 
 without a rival. 
 
OUR HERITAGE. 
 
 Beloved Essex ! thy prolific soil 
 
 Hath nurtured statesmen, jurists, bards divine ! 
 
 Thy earnest workers here reveal a mine 
 Of intellectual wealth ! the meed of toil 
 Exalted far above the weary moil 
 
 For bare material gain ! They still the wine 
 
 Of high existence ! the quintessence fine 
 Of ripest thought, that Time can ne'er despoil ! 
 Here nature, opulent, on every hand 
 
 Spreads rarest loveliness in scenes that bind 
 The heart in strong attachment to the land ! 
 
 Yet Essex doth her highest glory find 
 In lofty flights of inspiration grand, 
 
 And the immortal triumphs of the mind ! 
 
 ABEL G. COURTIS. 
 
 Lynn, December, 1888. 
 
SKETCHES AND POEMS. 
 
 WILLIAM PAGE ANDREWS. 
 
 R. Andrews was born in Framingham, 
 Mass., November 22, 1848, and was son 
 of Samuel Page and Rebecca Bacon 
 (Scudder) Andrews. When William was four years of 
 age, the family removed to Salem, where they have since 
 resided. He was educated in the public schools of Sa- 
 lem, and by private instruction. After the completion 
 of his education, he was for some years a clerk in a mer- 
 chant's counting-room in Boston. When the First Dis- 
 trict court of Essex county, located at Salem, was es- 
 tablished in 1874, his father was made clerk and Mr. 
 Andrews was appointed assistant clerk thereof. This of- 
 fice he continued to hold until the resignation of his 
 father in April, 1888, when he was made clerk and his 
 father assistant clerk. Mr. Andrews has written book 
 notices and other prose articles, and contributed poems 
 to The Century, and other magazines, and to the Salem 
 Gazette, Christian Register, Boston Transcript, New 
 York Critic, and other papers. He has also edited 
 
 (11) 
 
12 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 "Poems by Charles T. Brooks " and "Poems by Jones 
 Very," contributing to the last named a memoir. He is 
 favorably known as a translator of the poems of Heine, 
 Riickert, and Goethe, and also of Victor Hugo's writ- 
 ings. His translations of German hymns have appeared 
 in the Christian Register. His favorite poets are Shel- 
 ley, Wordsworth, Keats, and Matthew Arnold. 
 
 MATTHEW ABNOLD. 
 
 Austere, sedate, the chisel in his hand, 
 
 He carved his statue from a flawless stone, 
 That faultless verse, whose earnest undertone 
 
 Echoes the music of his Grecian land. 
 
 Like Sophocles on that ^Egean strand 
 
 He walked by night, and watched life's sea alone, 
 Amid a temperate, not the tropic zone, 
 
 Girt round by cool waves and a crystal sand. 
 
 And yet the world's heart in his pulses stirred ; 
 He looked abroad across life's wind-swept plain, 
 
 And many a wandering mariner has heard 
 His warning hail, and as the blasts increase, 
 
 Has listened, till he passed the reefs again, 
 And floated safely in his port of Peace. 
 
 NOVEMBEB. 
 
 " O bare November !" sings a poet friend, 
 Who longs for gladness of a vanished May. 
 Look round about you, poet, think, and say : 
 
 Did May more shining hours, more beauty, send ? 
 
DABIUS BABBY. 13 
 
 See ! how the softened colors gently blend 
 
 With tenderer harmonies against the gray ; 
 
 How gorgeously the pomp of passing day 
 Flames through the sky to celebrate its end ! 
 The year is dying ! yes, as old faiths die, 
 
 Chastened and glorified with purer light. 
 Its flowers have faded ; but the winter, nigh, 
 
 Comes, bringing in their stead a robe of white. 
 Serene and calm and friendlier, from on high, 
 
 The nearer stars look down more clear and bright. 
 
 DARIUS BARRY. 
 Mr. Barry was born in Haverhill, Mass., December 
 12, 181 2, and was son of John and Susan (Silver) Barry. 
 In his boyhood he had but few advantages for study, 
 but his great natural ability has to a large degree sup- 
 plied the want of education. In 1830, he went to 
 Charlestown, and remained there two years. He then 
 went to Lynn, and soon after engaged in the manufact- 
 ure of morocco, which business he has pursued to the 
 present time. For one whose life has been so arduous, 
 he has accomplished a great amount of reading, and 
 what he has read his strong memory has retained. He 
 takes a lively interest in current matters, and is an able 
 debater on all questions of a philosophical or religious 
 character. His broad and often quaint humor has im- 
 proved with his age, and has become one of his most 
 prominent characteristics. His published verses have 
 
14 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 been few in number, and have alone appeared origi- 
 nally in the Lynn Transcript. He has the true poetic 
 spirit, and his style is simple and natural, having a del- 
 icate descriptive touch, and a due appreciation of the 
 beautiful. 
 
 M0BN1NG. 
 
 Upon the world the god of day 
 
 Has burst in rosy light : 
 His unseen fingers gather up 
 
 The curtains of the night. 
 
 Now up the east, with blazing shield, 
 
 He climbs the dizzy height ; 
 And hides the fainting stars within 
 
 The mantle of his light. 
 
 His warm rays light the hills and streams ; 
 
 The vales his glory share ; 
 The gray old rocks, on mountain tops, 
 
 His golden garments wear. 
 
 The ear drinks in the low sweet sound 
 Of murmuring brooks and rills ; 
 
 And saffron blushes of the morn 
 Fall soft along the hills. 
 
EUGENE BABBT. 15 
 
 EUGENE BARRY. 
 Mr. Barry was born in Lynn, Mass., October 12, 
 1843, and was son of Darius and Jane Hatch (Clark) 
 Barry. Darius Barry, the father, is the subject of the 
 preceding sketch. The son was educated in the Lynn 
 public schools, and graduated from the high school, be- 
 ing the valedictorian of his class. During the period of 
 his school life, he learned the business of morocco man- 
 ufacturing, and after leaving school continued to work 
 at it. In 1867, he engaged in the business for himself, 
 and has continued in it to the present time. Mr. Barry 
 married, and has addressed to his children some appro- 
 priate little poems. Until 1886, he had not printed 
 verses, but since that time has contributed poems to 
 the Boston Transcript, and other papers, which have 
 been deservedly popular. He has the laudable ambi- 
 tion to excel, and endeavors to produce something that 
 is akin to the highest type of poetry. He labors over 
 and studies his lines as he prepares them, and has the 
 success of not displaying in them the labored style of 
 composition. He has a talent that will some day ex- 
 press itself yet more clearly. 
 
 rr 
 
 THE WATEB-LILY. 
 
 As in the city's dust and heat 
 I walked with footsteps sad, 
 I chanced to see, beside the street, 
 Close to the throng of hurrying feet, 
 A little country lad. 
 
1 6 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 The freedom of the mountain air 
 Shone from his sun-lit eye ; 
 
 His slender hands held, fresh and fair, 
 
 A bunch of water-lilies rare 
 To tempt the passer by. 
 
 'Twas but a glance, yet strangely sweet, 
 
 Its spell my heart beguiled. 
 I saw no more the crowded street, 
 Heard not the tread of hurrying feet — 
 I was again a child, 
 
 Roaming the wild woods, glad and free, 
 
 Haunting the mountain stream ; 
 I heard the birds' wild melody, 
 And through the screen of leaf and tree 
 I caught the river's gleam. 
 
 The dreamy nook where lilies grew 
 
 I sought by pathways lone, 
 And where the alder thicket threw 
 Its tangled shade of dusky hue, 
 The snow-white blossoms shone. 
 
 And she, that o'er my heart bore rule, 
 
 My sweetheart scarcely ten, 
 For whose dear sake I stole from school 
 To pluck the lilies from the pool — 
 I see her once again, 
 
WILLIAM GABDNEB BAB TON. 17 
 
 As when, upon her desk, my prize 
 
 All sweetly fragrant lay. 
 The blush that told her glad surprise, 
 The love-lift of those tender eyes 
 
 Is in my heart to-day. 
 
 O Lily fair, with heart of gold ! 
 
 Where may thy presence be ? 
 Full many a weary year has rolled 
 Since, on life's ocean, dark and cold, 
 
 I drifted far from thee. 
 
 Perchance, for aught that I may know, 
 
 A staid and sober dame, 
 She walks this very street. Ah, no, 
 My fond heart will not have it so, 
 
 She is to me the same. 
 
 And oft, when sleep unseals my eyes, 
 
 With hand in hand again, 
 
 We roam beneath unclouded skies 
 
 And pluck the flowers of Paradise, 
 
 • A boy and girl of ten. 
 ■1886. 
 
 WILLIAM GARDNER BARTON. 
 
 Mr. Barton was born in Salem, Mass., April 4, 185 1, 
 
 and was son of Gardner and Anne Gillis (Donaldson) 
 
 Barton. He was educated in the public schools of his 
 
 native city, leaving the high school in 1869, a few 
 
 2 
 
1 8 POETS OF ESSEX COUXTY. 
 
 months before the graduation of his class, to take a 
 clerkship in the Salem National Bank. In 1872 he en- 
 tered the employ of the First National Bank of Boston, 
 where he remained until February, 1S87, when he re- 
 signed his position in order to become cashier for the 
 Bay State Live Stock Company at Kimball, Cheyenne 
 county, Nebraska, whither he removed and now re- 
 sides with his family. This change of location was 
 made in the hope that the climate of the Western plains 
 would prove beneficial to his health, which had become 
 somewhat impaired. Most of his writings have been 
 contributions to the columns of the Sa/em Gazette, and 
 have consisted of a few poems, quite a number of es- 
 says, and many anonymous book reviews. He seldom 
 writes now, but a letter from his pen occasionally ap- 
 pears in the Gazette. His tastes, being in the line of 
 natural history, have led him to write mainly upon birds, 
 trees and natural scenery, and subjects suggested by 
 his frequent walks in the neighboring town of Beverly, 
 and in other places. He is a great lover of the writings 
 of Emerson, Burroughs, Thoreau and Wilson Flagg, 
 the last two writers having conveyed to him their style 
 of composition. 
 
 JOSHUAS MOUNTAIN. 
 The evening robin homeward flies 
 
 To gloaming wood on yonder shore ; 
 The river smooth in purple lies, 
 
 And sparrow songs come tinkling o'er 
 
JAMES BEBB Y BENSEL. 1 9 
 
 From Rial-side, whose verdant mead, 
 
 Still warm from glow of noontime sun, 
 And pasture where the horses feed, 
 
 And cedars standing one by one, 
 And forest dark against the sky — 
 All whisper promise of the eve, 
 
 When nature, moved in rest to feel 
 How rich the good she doth receive 
 
 In daytime, in her thanks doth kneel. 
 
 JAMES BERRY BENSEL. 
 
 Mr. Bensel was born in New York City August 2, 
 1856, and was son of William F. A. and Harriet M. 
 (Berry) Bensel. The family came to Lynn, Mass., 
 when James was in his infancy and the father, becom- 
 ing insane, died in the Worcester Insane Hospital. The 
 son never married, but took upon himself the care of 
 his mother and his two sisters, and struggled to support 
 himself and them by his literary efforts. His friends 
 became aware of the great burden he was trying to bear 
 and assisted him. Being unsuccessful in Lynn, he finally 
 went to New York City to secure a situation, and took 
 obscure lodgings, in which, soon afterward, at the age 
 of twenty-nine, he died, in sorrow and disappointment, 
 and without friends. The date of his death was Feb- 
 ruary 3, 1886. His disease, which resembled epilepsy, 
 was superinduced by his extreme exertions in endeav- 
 oring to earn a living and some fame. In 1883, he 
 published a novel, called "King Cophetna's Wife, " as 
 
20 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 a serial in the Overland Monthly. This constituted 
 most of his prose. His poetry, which was worthy of an 
 older brain, was published in the Boston Transcript, 
 and other leading newspapers, and in the Overland 
 Monthly, Atlantic Monthly, and other magazines, over 
 his full name. Some critics have thought his poetry 
 morbid, and some of it certainly is of that nature. There 
 was veryjittle in his life to make the creations of his 
 mind other than sorrowful ; yet at times he wrote as 
 blithely as if he had never known hunger or pain. 
 - His poems were collected in a little volume, entitled 
 " In the King's Garden, " and published in 1885. A 
 second edition, with a sketch of the author's life, was 
 published in 1886. U /. <*// 
 
 MY LITTLE LOVE. 
 
 O my little love with the wind-blown hair, 
 
 And the grey eyes full of tears ! 
 You have filled my heart with a grievous care, 
 
 And a weary weight of fears. 
 
 O my little love with the tender face ! 
 
 You are crueller far to me 
 Than the mighty wind in its deathly race, 
 
 And crueller than the sea. 
 
 For you blow my hopes with your smile or frown 
 
 To life or to death I ween, 
 And a word from your lips has power to drown 
 
 The light of a day serene. 
 
ANNE BBADSTBEET. 2 1 
 
 O my little love whom I hold so dear ! 
 
 Be kindest of all to me ! 
 Or my life on your love will wreck I fear, 
 
 As boats are wrecked by the sea. 
 
 ANNE BRADSTREET. 
 
 Mrs. Bradstreet was the daughter of Governor 
 Thomas and Dorothy Dudley, and was born at North- 
 ampton, in England, in 161 2. At the age of sixteen 
 she married Simon Bradstreet, who was afterward the 
 governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Near the 
 time of her marriage she had the small pox, which so 
 reduced her delicate constitution that she became sub- 
 ject to frequent attacks of illness and fits of fainting, 
 and suffered at one time from lameness. Two years 
 later she came to America, with her husband, and lived 
 at Ipswich, Andover and Salem. They had a large fam- 
 ily ; and, with her feeble health, her numerous cares, 
 and the burning of her house, in which her books and 
 papers were destroyed, it is remarkable that she wrote 
 at all. Those colonial days, with their dangers, suf- 
 ferings, severe labors and privations, were far from po- 
 etic ; yet she persevered and became celebrated, her 
 poems being commended by Cotton Mather and the 
 witty Ward. The noted John Norton called her "the 
 mirror of her age, and the glory of her sex." She must 
 have had considerable courage to write in those times, 
 when it was thought that mental accomplishments be- 
 
22 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 longed exclusively to men. Perhaps it was enough for 
 her to know that her husband thought differently, and 
 that he was proud of her literary attainments. She was 
 esteemed for her gracious demeanor and pious conver- 
 sation, admired for her genius and love of learning, and 
 honored for her diligence and her wifely and motherly 
 discretion. She died at Andover September 16, 1672, 
 at the age of sixty. Her husband survived her about a 
 quarter of a century. 
 
 The first edition of Mrs. Bradstreet's poems, entitled 
 "The Tenth Muse lately sprung up in America, or Sev- 
 eral Poems compiled with Great Variety of Wit and 
 Learning, full of Delight," was published, without her 
 knowledge, in London, England, in 1650; the second 
 edition was published in Boston in 1678 ; the third in 
 1758 ; and the fourth and last in Charlestown in 1867. 
 
 CONTEMPLA TIONS ' 
 
 Under the cooling shadow of a stately elm, 
 
 Close sate I by a goodly river's side, 
 Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm ; 
 
 A lonely place, with pleasures dignified. 
 I once that loved the shady woods so well, 
 Now thought the rivers did the trees excel, 
 And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell. 
 
 1 Extract from "Contemplations," which is acknowledged to be her best 
 poem. 
 
OEOBGE JOHNSON BREED. 23 
 
 While on the stealing stream I fixt mine eye, 
 Which to the longed-for ocean held its course, 
 
 I markt nor crooks nor rubs that there did lie 
 Could hinder aught, but still augment its force ; 
 
 O happy flood, quoth I, that holdst thy race 
 
 Till thou arrive at thy beloved place, 
 
 Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace. 
 
 Nor is't enough that thou alone mayst slide, 
 
 But hundred brooks in thy clear waves do meet, 
 
 So hand in hand along with thee they glide 
 
 To Thetis' house, where all embrace and greet : 
 
 Thou emblem true of what I count the best, 
 
 O could I lead my rivulets to rest ! 
 
 So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest. 
 
 GEORGE JOHNSON BREED. 
 
 Mr. Breed was born in Salem, Mass., January 7, 
 1827, and was son of Capt. Holton J. and Nancy (Sy- 
 monds) Breed. When he was twenty years of age he 
 went to England to study music, becoming a pupil at 
 the Royal Academy .in London. After visiting Ger- 
 many he returned to America in 1849. He became an 
 accomplished musician, having wonderful skill in the 
 execution of the works of the great masters in the world 
 of harmony and melody. Those who have heard him 
 play will never forget the sweetness and delicacy of his 
 music. Exquisite musical fancies filled his mind, and 
 
24 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 he sometimes gave permanent expression to them by 
 printing his compositions, occasionally publishing songs. 
 He had a delicate physique, and was remarkable for 
 the elasticity of his muscular action. His thought was 
 deep and alert, and sometimes he seemed so spiritual, 
 being very absent-minded, that in the circle that knew 
 him best he was called "Ariel." Being without the care 
 of a family, having never married, much of his time was 
 given to reading and to walks in the country, where he 
 absorbed its natural loveliness. It is not strange that 
 such a person should have written poetry, and that of 
 a high order, though but little was ever published. His 
 extreme modesty and reserve caused him to withdraw 
 from society and, known only to a few, pass a secluded 
 life in his youthful haunts at Salem. He died of laryn- 
 gitis, at the Homoeopathic Hospital, in Boston, August 
 12, 1885, at the age of fifty-eight. 
 
 SUNSET ON THE BO AD. 
 
 I lingered, for it was an hour of heaven ! 
 
 I paused, half doubtful might I venture here, 
 Where Peace and Glory kissed, dimmed of no tear,— 
 
 This blissful rest of love,— «V freely given? 
 
 All things expectant seemed of some high guest : 
 Quiet the cattle stood and mildly gazed, 
 As swift his farewell glance in splendor blazed 
 
 Across a dreaming world,— and all was blest ! 
 
 Then nature woke a low-voiced, tranquil hymn, 
 The birds outbroke, full-hearted, with a song, 
 
JONA THAN HUNTING TON BRIGHT. 2 5 
 
 And fields and hills shone bright that had been dim, — 
 
 Sure 'tis the coming we have waited long ! 
 But lo, the all-seeing eye is slowly hid, 
 And darkness gathers o'er the closing lid. 
 
 SUNSET IN THE CITY. 
 Night gently falls as shade of angel's wing 
 
 Over a world tired in its endless way ; 
 
 Which, — like a child wearied with noisy play 
 And turning home, — for rest leaves everything. 
 Divinest hour ! whose stillness wooes to dreams 
 
 Where in the midst of nature — vale and hill, 
 
 River and whispering wood and babbling rill — 
 Impressed on all sleep's mystic presence seems ; 
 But here! — amid the sad restraints of town, 
 
 The drooping soul no comforter can find ; 
 And as night's hopeless shade comes settling down, 
 
 Sad thoughts and longings fill both heart and mind ; 
 Long-buried things awake, memory recalls 
 The eternal past, till sleep's dark curtain falls. 
 —1861. 
 
 JONATHAN HUNTINGTON BRIGHT. 
 
 Mr. Bright was born in Salem, Mass., where he was 
 baptized by Rev. Thomas Barnard in the North Church 
 July 7, 1802, and was son of Jonathan Bright, an up- 
 holsterer of that place. When Jonathan was fifteen 
 years of age, his father died, and he was afterward em- 
 
26 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 ployed as a clerk in a dry-goods store in his native 
 town. In 1825, he went to Norfolk, Va., where he re- 
 sided for a while, and about eight years afterward re- 
 moved to Albany, N. Y. In the autumn of 1836 he 
 sailed to New Orleans, La., and after being there a short 
 time was persuaded to go up the river to Manchester, 
 Miss., a new town, to take part in an important business 
 enterprise. Here he soon contracted the fever of the 
 country by his unwonted privations and exposure to the 
 night air, and after an illness of only a few hours; in 
 that comfortless frontier settlement, away from his fam- 
 ily, whom he held most dear, his benignant spirit was 
 delivered up. This was in the month of August, 1837, 
 when he was in his thirty-sixth year. Jones Very calls 
 him, in a memorial poem published a few years after 
 Mr. Bright's decease, "fair Salem's earliest bard." He 
 was a writer of poetry of considerable repute, having 
 regularly contributed to the Atlantic Souvenir, Wil- 
 liamstown Advocate, Alba?iy Argus, Knickerbocker 
 Magazine, and other periodicals of his time over the 
 signature of "Viator." He wrote many gems of pure 
 feeling, imbued with the sense of true poetry. The 
 grace, natural simplicity, and beauty of his composition 
 commended itself to every affectionate and sympathiz- 
 ing heart. 
 
 NAHANT. 
 
 I love thy sea-washed coast, Nahant ! — I love 
 Thine everlasting cliffs, which tower above ; 
 I love to linger there when daylight fades, 
 
JON A THAN HUN TING TON BRIGHT. 2 7 
 
 And evening hangs above her sombre shades, 
 And lights her pale lamps in the world on high, 
 
 And o'er the rough rocks throws her purple hue ; 
 While ocean's heaving tides 
 Are beating round thy sides, 
 Flinging their foam-wreaths to the sky, 
 And flakes of fire seem bursting through 
 Each swelling wave of liquid blue ! 
 
 Tradition lends to thee no hallowed tone ; 
 Ne'er on thy beach was heard the spirit's moan ; 
 Yet there's a charm about thee : here I've roved, 
 In being's blossom, with the forms I loved ; 
 And they have faded ; many a heart which sprung 
 Fresh into life when hope and joy were young 
 Moulders in dust ; and many a buoyant breast, 
 Which swelled with rapture then, is laid at rest ; 
 
 Many a heart hath met the blight, 
 
 Many an eye is closed in night, 
 
 Many a bosom long may mourn 
 
 For those who never can return I 
 
 Each one of us who wanders here, 
 
 And sports within life's little day, 
 At eve shall sleep upon the bier, 
 
 Our hopes, our promise, passed away : 
 But thou remain'st ! thy rugged rocks 
 Shall long withstand time's rudest shocks, 
 And other feet as light shall tread 
 Thy wave-bound isle, when we are dead ! 
 
28 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Yes, man must bloom and fade, must rise and fall, 
 
 Till nature spreads at length o'er earth her pall ; 
 
 Then shall thou sink in chaos ! Ay, thy name 
 
 Will fall in ruin, and the roll of fame 
 
 Shall be a blot ; and the earth, too, and her cherished, 
 
 In time's oblivious wreck will all have perished ! 
 
 —Aug. 19, 1834. 
 
 CHARLES TIMOTHY BROOKS. 
 
 Mr. Brooks was born in Salem, Mass., June 20, 
 1 81 3, and was son of Timothy and Mary King (Mason) 
 Brooks. When a boy, his health was delicate, and he 
 did not participate in boisterous games, delighting in- 
 stead to roam among the woods and pastures and on 
 the pebbly beach. He prepared for college at the Latin 
 Grammar School, and graduated at Harvard in 1832, 
 and at the divinity school in Cambridge in 1835. He 
 was ordained over the Unitarian church at Newport, 
 R. I., June 14, 1837. On account of ill-health he vis- 
 ited the South in 1842, India in 1853, and Europe in 
 1865. While in Europe, at Stuttgart, he was given a 
 reception by the German authors on account of his 
 translations of their works. In 1873, ms impaired eye- 
 sight and other physical infirmities compelled him to 
 resign his pastorate. He spent the remainder of his life 
 with his family at Newport, free from care, enjoying his 
 literary pursuits. He passed gently away June 14, 1883, 
 lacking six days of three score and ten years. He had 
 
CHABLES TIMO THY BE OKS. 2 9 
 
 delicate features, was slim in person, of medium height, 
 possessed of attractive manners, and was naturally rev- 
 erential and pious. He was noted for the purity of his 
 character, gentleness, scholarship, and practical charity. 
 His voice was weak, and his style of preaching was 
 simple and earnest, being almost free from gesture. 
 
 Mr. Brooks published thirty-four books, twenty-one 
 of which were translations, chiefly from the German. 
 A translation of Goethe's "Faust" is perhaps the work 
 by which he is best known. His other principal poet- 
 ical works were three volumes of translated German lyr- 
 ics, Friedrich Schiller's " Homage to the Arts, " a 
 translation, with other poems, Boston, 1846 ; "Aquid- 
 neck, and other Poems," Providence, 1848; and 
 "Songs of Field and Flood," Boston, 1853. A volume 
 of his poems, with a memoir and portrait, was published 
 in Boston in 1885. 
 
 THE GBEAT VOICES. 
 
 A voice from the sea to the mountains, 
 From the mountains again to the sea ; 
 
 A call from the deep to the fountains : 
 O spirit ! be glad and be free ! 
 
 A cry from the floods to the fountains, 
 And the torrents repeat the glad song 
 
 As they leap from the breast of the mountains 
 O spirit ! be free and be strong ! 
 
30 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 The pine forests thrill with emotion 
 Of praise as the spirit sweeps by ; 
 
 With the voice like the murmur of ocean 
 To the soul of the listener they cry. 
 
 Oh, sing, human heart, like the fountains, 
 
 With joy reverential and free ; 
 Contented and calm as the mountains, 
 And deep as the woods and the sea. 
 — Lenox, Aug. 15, 1872. 
 
 WILLIS GAYLORD BURNHAM. 
 Mr. Burnham was born in Essex, Mass., January 12, 
 1846, and was son of Samuel and Sarah (Andrews) 
 Burnham. A bachelor, he has always lived with his 
 parents at his birthplace, in a quiet, uneventful manner. 
 Here he has enjoyed many of his leisure hours in 
 reading and occasionally writing for the local newspa- 
 pers, his contributions being principally poetry. From 
 his earliest years, he has been a lover of the water. Na- 
 ture in all its changes gives him pleasure ; spring being 
 his favorite season. Birds and flowers, and all that 
 true poets love are dear to him. Books have been his 
 constant companions, especially those devoted to his- 
 tory ; and art of all kinds gives him much entertainment. 
 He inherited his poetic talent from his mother, who 
 was herself no mean writer. His poetry is pretty and 
 is liked. His temperament is genial and pleasant ; and 
 he is happy and contented with the quiet life, which 
 
WILLIS GAYLOBD BTJBNHAM. 31 
 
 was so desirable to His widowed mother, whose declin- 
 ing years he made enjoyable by his filial care and affec- 
 tion. Though now a local poet, he will be better known, 
 and his poetry still more appreciated by and by, when 
 a volume of his verses shall have been collected and 
 published. His home is pleasantly situated ; and from 
 the windows of his residence a beautiful landscape, va- 
 ried with river, field and wood, and in the distance an 
 ocean view, presents itself. Here he can continue to 
 dream his dreams, and write them out that other minds 
 may enjoy the happy musings of his own. 
 
 THE LITTLE ONES GONE HOME. 
 
 There are three little darlings 
 
 Watching for me, 
 On the beautiful shore, 
 
 By the stormless sea. 
 And the light of their smiles, 
 
 In that bright realm afar, 
 Seems to shed on my soul 
 
 Through the portals ajar. 
 
 I think of them most 
 
 When the morning is nigh, 
 And the night clouds grow bright 
 
 On the clear eastern sky ; 
 For my visions are then 
 
 Of that blest other side, 
 Of the radiant dawn 
 
 O'er the darksome tide. 
 
32 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 As they play amid flowers 
 
 Surpassingly fair, — 
 My darlings ! my darlings ! 
 
 I see them all there ; 
 Happy while waiting 
 
 And watching for me, 
 On the beautiful shore 
 
 By the stormless sea. 
 
 WILLIAM WARNER CALDWELL. 
 
 Mr. Caldwell was born in Newburyport, Mass., 
 October 28, 1823, and was son of John and Eleanor 
 (Orne) Caldwell. He attended Dumraer Academy, 
 under the preceptorship of Professor Cleaveland, from 
 1833 to 1839, when he entered Bowdoin College, from 
 which he graduated in 1843. In 1845, he entered bus- 
 iness as a druggist in his native place, and remained 
 there in the business until 1881, when he disposed of 
 his establishment and retired. Since then he has re- 
 sided in Boston and vicinity, devoting much of his time 
 to literary pursuits. His poems have been received 
 with great favor and admiration for their purity, grace 
 and tenderness. His occasional verses on simple, heart- 
 felt themes are truthful in expression and sentiment, and 
 happy in poetic execution. Whittier said of him, that 
 he was the best lyric poet in New England. He has 
 also won a good reputation by his numerous transla- 
 tions from the German poets, Gribel, Hebel, Fallersle- 
 
WILLIAM WABNEB CALDWELL. 33 
 
 ben, and others. "The Watchman's Cry," from Hebel, 
 is one of the many German gems that he has made fa- 
 miliar to English readers. More than fifty of his Ger- 
 man lyric translations have been set to music by John 
 W. Tufts for the "Normal Music Course." He is a 
 man of refinement and cultivated tastes. He was mar- 
 ried, in 1848, to Miss Ruth M. Woodcock, a lady of 
 Leicester, Mass., to whom the poem given below is ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 In 1857, Mr. Caldwell published a volume of poetry, 
 entitled "Poems, Original and Translated." 
 
 B Y THE BIVEB. 
 
 TO R. M. C. 
 
 From mountain peak and village spire 
 The golden sunlight fades away, 
 
 But up the clear sky, high and higher, 
 With deepening radiance, doth ray 
 The glory of the dying day, 
 
 In streams of rosy-gleaming fire. 
 
 Upon the river's marge I stand, 
 And gaze across the shadowy blue, 
 
 As, rippling up the shelving strand, 
 
 The mimic waves their foam-bells strew, 
 Slide softly back, then come anew, 
 
 And murmur up the glistening sand. 
 3 
 
34 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 How sweet to feel this dewy air 
 
 Blow freshly o'er the unruffled tide ! 
 
 So tenderly it lifts my hair, 
 
 So wooes the modest flowers that hide 
 Their little cups, anear my side, 
 
 To greet me with their perfume rare. 
 
 And sweet it is, at times, to hear 
 
 The dip of oars, the lingering sweep, 
 
 As some light boat its course doth steer 
 Towards the far-off billowy deep, 
 So falls the measured chime they keep, 
 
 With silvery cadence on the ear. 
 
 And look ! above yon monarch pine, 
 That sentinels the distant shore, 
 
 Our chosen star doth brightly shine, 
 And, all the charmed waters o'er, 
 Her pure and lustrous light doth pour, 
 
 Recalling thee and hopes divine. 
 
 I would thou wert beside me now, 
 Beneath this gnarled beechen tree, 
 
 To watch the river's placid flow, 
 
 And hear the wavelets gurgling glee, 
 As on the lone shore, merrily, 
 
 Unceasingly they come and go, — 
 
 That I might gaze upon thy face, 
 Drink gladness from thy loving eyes, 
 
JOHN WHITE CHAD WICK. 35 
 
 And feel again the wondrous grace, 
 
 That in thy every action lies ; 
 
 Or speak and hear thy low replies, 
 Or hold thee in my close embrace. 
 
 Vain wish. But wheresoe'er to-night, 
 Or far or near thy footsteps rove, 
 
 When yon dear star shall meet thy sight, 
 Oh ! may its welcome radiance move 
 Thy gentle heart to dreams of love, 
 
 And bring thee peace and calm delight. 
 
 JOHN WHITE CHADWICK. 
 
 Mr. Chadwick was born in Marblehead, Mass., Oc- 
 tober 19, 1840, and was son of John White and Jane 
 (Stanley) Chadwick. Leaving school at the age of thir- 
 teen, he worked for some months in a dry-goods store, 
 and afterward engaged in shoe-making until he was 
 seventeen years old, when he entered the Bridgewater 
 Normal School, from which he graduated in 1859. 
 Shortly afterward, he went to the academy at Exeter, 
 N. H., and after studying there, and with a private tu- 
 tor for a year, entered the Cambridge divinity school, 
 from which he graduated in 1864. He was ordained 
 over the Second Unitarian church in Brooklyn, N. Y., 
 December 21, 1864, and still remains there. He has 
 contributed articles to the Christian Examiner, The 
 Radical, Old and New, Harper's Magazine, and vari- 
 ous other publications. He has also written numerous 
 
36 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 poems, book reviews, and other productions for the 
 Christian Register, Liberal Christian, Independent, and 
 Christian Union. His poems are characterized by a 
 rare beauty and tenderness, and have found a loving re- 
 ception in many hearts. They have fulfilled the rich 
 promise of his early efforts, growing richer, deeper, 
 fuller of the poetic fervency of his mind. He is one 
 of the prominent hymn writers of the liberal faith, his 
 songs being admired by the Unitarians and others of 
 the more liberal religious denominations, and ho less 
 acceptable to those who, though proclaiming them- 
 selves to be stricter in doctrine, have the spirit of truth 
 and a love for God. 
 
 SEALED OBDEBS. 
 
 Our life is like a ship that sails some day 
 To distant waters leagues on leagues away ; 
 Not knowing what command to do and dare 
 Awaits her when her eager keel is there. 
 
 Birth, Love, and Death are ports we leave behind, 
 Borne on by rolling wave and rushing wind ; 
 Bearing a message with unbroken seal, 
 Whose meaning fain we would at once reveal. 
 
 And there are friends that stand upon the shore, 
 And watch our sail till it is seen no more, 
 And cry, "Oh, would that we might know the way 
 The brave ship goes for many a weary day !" 
 
JOHN WHITE CHAD WICK. 37 
 
 It may not be. But ever and anon 
 Some order, sealed at first, we ope and con ; 
 So learn what next, so east or westward fly, 
 And ne'er again that port of Birth espy. 
 
 How many another craft goes dancing by ! 
 What pennants float from morn and evening sky ! 
 By day how white our wake behind us streams ! 
 By night what golden phosphorescent gleams ! 
 
 There comes a day when Love, that lies asleep 
 The fairest island in the mighty deep, 
 Wakes on our sight. Its fragrant shores we reach, 
 And grates our keel upon its shining beach. 
 
 There do we stay awhile ; but soon again 
 We trim our sails to seek the open main ; 
 And now, whatever winds and waves betide, 
 Two friendly ships are sailing side by side. 
 
 Where, lies their course in vain they seek to know, 
 " Go forth, " the Spirit says, and forth they go ; 
 Enough that, wherever they may fare, 
 Alike the sunshine and the storm they share. 
 
 Islands that none e'er visited before 
 Invite to land with easy shelving shore ; 
 Circes and sirens fling their challenge out, 
 Charybdis deafens Scylla's deafening shout. 
 
38 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 For still these ships keep joyful company, 
 And many new strange lands they haste to see. 
 In port of Love 'twas pleasant to abide, 
 But oh ! Love's sea is very deep and wide. 
 
 Ay, deep and wide, and yet there comes a day 
 When these fond ships must sail a parted way ; 
 The port of Death doth one of them beguile, 
 The other lingers for a little while. 
 
 Lingers as near as she may dare to go, 
 And plies the cold, gray offing to and fro ; 
 Waiting impatient for the high command 
 To sail into the shadow of the land. 
 
 Is this the end ? I know it cannot be. 
 Our ships shall sail upon another sea ; 
 New islands yet shall break upon our sight, 
 New continents of love and truth and might. 
 
 *&' 
 
 But still not knowing, still with orders sealed, 
 Our track shall lie across the heavenly field ; 
 Yet there, as here, though dim the distant way, 
 Our strength shall be according to our day. 
 
 The sea is His, He made it, and His grace 
 Lurks in its wildest wave, its deepest place : 
 Our truest knowledge is that He is wise ; 
 What is our foresight to His sweet surprise ? 
 
JOSEPH WABBEN CHAPMAN. 39 
 
 JOSEPH WARREN CHAPMAN. 
 
 Mr. Chapman was born in Marblehead, Mass., No- 
 vember 26, 1855, and was son of Joseph Warren and 
 Louisa (Morse) Chapman. He fitted for college in the 
 high school of his native town, and graduated at Dart- 
 mouth in 1879, being the author of the class ode. He 
 has devoted his life to school teaching, having taught 
 at Billerica, been sub-master of Dean Academy, in 
 Franklin, Mass., principal of Lincoln Academy, at Lin- 
 coln, Va., and principal of the Marblehead high school. 
 He has taught in the latter school for the last six years, 
 and still pursues his work there. He resides in Mar- 
 blehead, and has a family. He is a well-read man ; 
 and has taught literature to private students, having at 
 present a class in Browning, in reference to which his 
 sonnet, entitled " Fellowship, " was written. He has 
 also read lectures on several authors ; and has con- 
 tributed poems to the Wheelman (the magazine now 
 called Outing), and to the Boston Courier, Boston 
 Transcript, and local newspapers. 
 
 FELLOWSHIP. 
 
 Sweet friends are mine, — I never walk alone, — 
 Though all unseen by you they go along, 
 The loving ghosts from out the realm of song, 
 
 With gleeful laugh, or, haply, making moan. 
 
40 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 For me the rose is never over-blown, 
 
 The sparrow mute, though winter tarries long ; 
 More truly living round my pathway throng 
 
 These birdlike guests from other ages flown. 
 
 They know not death, for they are heavenly born. 
 I love them all ; I weep with them, I laugh, 
 They give my soul of Eunoe's rill to quaff, — 
 
 Helen of Troy ; old Timon clad in scorn ; 
 
 And others many. Hark ! upon the wind, 
 
 From Arden blown, the mock of Rosalind. 
 
 AN EPITAPH. 
 
 Say not that he who lies below is dead, 
 But rather, he we loved was wont to wear 
 A garb of flesh, bedecked with joy and care, 
 
 And with the nerves of motion fashioned ; 
 
 And fondly say, one day he donned instead 
 A robe befitting courts supremely fair 
 And God's high presence ; nothing could compare 
 
 Of earthly glory with it ; and that he said : 
 
 "Weep not, dear friends, that now I go away, 
 For ye will follow soon ; in some pure sphere 
 
 We'll meet to joy again." So smiling say, 
 The garment that he wore is lying here ; 
 
 But he, as birds the summer sometime lent, 
 
 Hath left us lone, grieving, yet half content. 
 
HENBY HENDERSON CLARK. 4* 
 
 HENRY HENDERSON CLARK. 
 
 Mr. Clark was born in Georgetown, Mass., April 1, 
 1 83 1, and was son of Aaron Lufkin and Mary (Adams) 
 Clark. He was* an exceedingly bright and intelligent 
 lad, and a good scholar, receiving his education in the 
 public schools of his native town, and academies in Sal- 
 isbury, N. H,, Brownington, Vt., and Bridgton, Maine. 
 He learned the trade of a printer in Haverhill, Mass., 
 and began work as a journeyman compositor in the 
 University Press office at Cambridge, becoming final 
 proof reader, and then manager of its fine book depart- 
 ment. After being there thirty years he resigned and 
 took charge of Rand, Avery & Co's book department 
 in Boston, where four years afterward he established 
 an office of his own, turning out work second to none 
 in quality. He was the intimate acquaintance of Long- 
 fellow, Greeley, Lowell, Sumner, Agassiz, and many 
 other lettered men. Mr. Clark was endowed with rare 
 literary talents, and was refined, sensitive and pure- 
 minded. He loved nature passionately, and his writings 
 breathe of the country, its birds and flowers, its hills and 
 valleys, rivers and brooks. He wrote mainly over the 
 signature of "Henry Henderson," many of his poems 
 having been written for the Boston Transcript. He 
 lived in Cambridge during the thirty years he was em- 
 ployed by the University Press, then in Melrose, and a 
 year or two later removed to Maiden, where his family 
 still reside. After an illness of three weeks, terminating 
 a decline of several years, he died at Maiden April 15, 
 1888, at the age of fifty-seven. 
 
42 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 PABKER BIVEB. 
 
 Through broad gleaming meadows of billowy grass, 
 That form at its outlet a long narrow pass, 
 
 The river comes down, 
 By farms whose high tillage gives note to the town, 
 
 As sparkling and bright 
 
 As it gladdened the sight 
 Of the fathers who first found its beautiful shore, 
 And felt here was home, — they need wander no more. 
 
 When the swallows were gathering in flocks for their 
 
 flight, 
 As if conscious some foe of their kind were in sight, 
 
 They pushed up the stream 
 In the low level rays of the sun's lingering beam, 
 
 That lit all below 
 
 With a magical glow, 
 That brought by resemblance old England to mind, 
 Whose shores they had left with such heartache behind. 
 
 The golden-rod waved its tall plumes from the bank, 
 As if the whole bright summer sunshine it drank ; 
 
 And grapes full and fair 
 Their wild native fragrance flung out on the air ; 
 
 And asters, and all 
 
 The gay flowerets of fall, 
 That brighten the season's long dreamy delight, 
 Were crowding the woodside their beauty made bright. 
 
 In the soft sunny days of September they came, 
 When the trees here and there were alight with the flame 
 That betokens decay, 
 
HENRY HENDEB SON CLABK. 43 
 
 And the passing of summer in glory away ; 
 
 As if the great Cause 
 
 Of nature's grand laws 
 Had set his red signet that here should be stayed 
 The tide of the year in its pomp and parade. 
 
 And now, as I stand on this broad open height, 
 And take in the view with enraptured delight, 
 
 I feel as they felt 
 Who in fervor of soul by these bright waters knelt, 
 
 That here I could rest 
 
 In the consciousness blest 
 That nature has given all heart, hand or eye 
 Could crave for contentment that earth can supply ; — 
 
 The limitless ocean that stretches away 
 Beyond the bright islets that light up the bay, 
 
 The murmurous roar 
 Of the surf breaking in on the long line of shore, 
 
 And rivers that run 
 
 Like gold in the sun, 
 And broad sunny hillsides and bright breezy groves, 
 And all one instinctively longs for and loves. 
 
 Trees bending with fruit touched with tints of the morn, 
 Fields soft with the late springing verdure unshorn, 
 
 And glimpses so fair 
 Of city and river and sails here and there, 
 
 And cottages white 
 
 On the beach by the light, 
 The picturesque roadside, and vistas that seem 
 Like openings to fairy-land seen but in dream. 
 
44 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 O, well may old Newbury be proud of its soil, 
 That brings such return for the laborer's toil ; 
 
 But proudest of all 
 Of the men whose achievements she loves to recall, 
 
 Who sprung from the few 
 
 Of the lone shallop's crew 
 Who two centuries ago, creeping Plum Island Sound, 
 This stream in the heart of the wilderness found. 
 
 In yonder old churchyard the forefathers sleep 
 Whose moss-covered headstones the bright record keep, 
 
 In rude rustic rhyme, 
 Or the quaint, honest phrase of "ye oldene tyme," 
 Of all they went through 
 The rough earth to subdue, 
 And plant for their kindred and all who may come 
 The broad, firm foundations of freedom's proud home. 
 
 At thy source, silent river, in childhood I played, 
 And followed thy windings through sunshine and shade ? 
 
 As joyous and free 
 As thy own light and soft tripping down to the sea ; 
 
 And thoughtful I stand 
 
 And look in on the land 
 To the hills that in glory flash out in the sun, 
 Where life in these sweet dreamy vales was begun. 
 
 Here Parker the elder, who gave thee his name, 
 And coupled his own with thy pastoral fame, 
 Stood out at the head 
 
BOBEBT STEVENSON COFFIN. 45 
 
 Of the brave little band he so lovingly led, 
 
 To seek and to find 
 
 The wealth of earth mined 
 By Faith, Toil and Patience, — the handmaids of Skill, 
 That wait to obey the stern mandates of Will. 
 
 Thou stream by the stranger unsought and unknown, 
 That into my heart like an old friend hast grown, 
 
 For all the glad hours 
 I have rambled with thee through thy bright happy 
 
 bowers, 
 
 I would bring the best gift 
 
 To thee I could lift, 
 In happy remembrance of dear old days gone, 
 Whose joy in my heart like a dream will live on. 
 
 Adieu, gentle river ! Long, long may I wait 
 Ere here I stand in the day's golden gate, 
 
 And take in the view 
 That brings back the past as so old and so new ; 
 
 But memory will still 
 
 Haunt this storied old hill 
 Whence I see as in vision the prospect unrolled 
 In all the bright splendor of purple and gold. 
 — 1878. 
 
 ROBERT STEVENSON COFFIN. 
 
 Mr. Coffin was born in Brunswick, Me., July 14, 
 1 794, and was son of Rev. Ebenezer and Mary Coffin. 
 The family removed to Newburyport, Mass., in 1802, 
 
46 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 and a few years later Robert was apprenticed to a 
 printer. During the war of 1812, he was a sailor, and 
 for a time a prisoner on board an English frigate. He 
 soon afterward obtained employment at his trade in a 
 newspaper office in Boston, where he worked until 1818, 
 when he went to New York City, arriving there a desti- 
 tute stranger. After some time he secured a job, on 
 which he worked about eight months, and occasionally 
 wrote for a small periodical over the nom de plume of 
 "Albert." Philadelphia being more liberally disposed 
 toward native talent, he went there, and obtained a situ- 
 ation in a daily-journal printing office. While there he 
 adopted the appellation of "Boston Bard," and three 
 years later his poems found their way into British pa- 
 pers. He was then employed as assistant-editor of the 
 Independent Balance until the publisher died ; and af- 
 terward wrote and worked for the Saturday Evening 
 Post, having in the meantime married. He travelled 
 back to New York, intemperate and without money, 
 and, stopping in Yorktown, with a Quaker family, wrote 
 for several public journals. Having been sick with con- 
 sumption for three years, he desired to see his old home 
 once more, started on his way thither, and died at Row- 
 ley, Mass., May 7, 1827, at the age of thirty- two. 
 
 Mr. Coffin published two volumes of poetry, — " The 
 Printer, and Several Other Poems," in 181 7 ; and the 
 "Oriental Harp ; Poems of the Boston Bard," with his 
 portrait, in 1826. 
 
 His " Life, " written by himself, was published in 
 1825. 
 
ABEL GABDNEB COUBTIS. 47 
 
 MELANCHOLY. 
 
 She dwells by the stream where the cypress and willow, 
 Are gemmed with the tears that fall from her eye ; 
 
 The earth is her bed and the flint-stone her pillow, 
 Midnight her mantle, her curtain the sky. 
 
 Her cell is the cave, where the bright beam of morning 
 Ne'er pierced the chill gloom of its wildering maze, 
 
 Where the sun-shine of joy, youth's visage adorning, 
 Ne'er warmed with its fire, or cheered with its rays. 
 
 The moon is her lamp, when the mist-mantled mountain 
 She clambers at midnight and walks o'er its steep : 
 
 Or leans on a rock of a crystalline fountain, 
 
 And sighs to the tempest that howls o'er the deep. 
 
 Her tresses are dark as the wing of the raven, 
 Her robes are all wet, and her bosom is bare ; 
 
 Like a barque on the waves, 'mid the whirlwinds of 
 heaven, 
 She wanders distracted, or sinks in despair. 
 
 — 1817. 
 
 ABEL GARDNER COURTIS. 
 Mr. Courtis was born in Lynn, Mass., March 29, 
 1838, and was son of Benjamin and Rebecca (Harris) 
 Courtis, whose ancestors have been for generations na- 
 tives of the county. He was educated in the common 
 schools of his native place : and, in the office of the 
 Lynn Bay State, in his teens, he learned the art of print- 
 
48 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 ing. In 1856, he went on a whaling voyage to the 
 Okhotsk Sea, and was gone two years. After his return, 
 he worked at his trade in Boston, and became foreman 
 of the office of the Lynn Reporter, continuing in that 
 capacity five years. In 1867, a good field for a new 
 journal appearing in Lynn, Mr. Courtis, with two other 
 gentlemen, founded the Lynn Transcript, of which he 
 was one of the conductors until 1877, when he became 
 sole conductor and proprietor. In 1881, he sold the 
 office and the paper, and since that time has been en- 
 gaged in the business of book-binding in Lynn. He 
 married in 1859, and settled in his native place, where 
 he has since resided. Most of Mr. Courtis' literary work 
 has been done for his paper. In quantity he has pro- 
 duced the least verse of any of the Essex county poets- 
 Besides the sonnet, which follows this sketch, another, 
 entitled "Our Heritage," appearing in the introductory 
 portion of this volume, is from his pen. Mr. Courtis is 
 an enthusiastic lover of nature, and is also interested in 
 the progress of the mechanic arts, and in questions of 
 metaphysics, the relations of science and religion, and 
 kindred subjects that so much engage modern thought. 
 
 TO THE SEA. 
 
 Thy storm-wrought surges, O majestic Sea ! 
 Assail the solid continents, and shake 
 
 Their foam-crests to the gale, in jubilee 
 Of thy stupendous energies, that wake 
 Whene'er the winds — thy chosen allies — take 
 
STEPHEN PIEBSON DBIVEB. 49 
 
 The mandate of the sun, their forces grand 
 To link with thine in elemental glee ! 
 E'en in thy moods of calm, when on the strand 
 Thy lighter pulses beat in wanton play, 
 
 The impress of sublimity and power — 
 Of force reserved — forever marks thy way. 
 
 From an Almighty hand the primal dower 
 Of grandeur, strength and beauty came to thee — 
 Unchanging emblem thou of vast eternity ! 
 -November, 1888. 
 
 STEPHEN PIERSON DRIVER. 
 Mr. Driver was born in Salem, Mass., December 20, 
 1829, and was son of Stephen and Mary (Beckford) 
 Driver. His early years were spent in his native place, 
 where he graduated from the high school. He became 
 a partner with his father in the manufacture of ladies' 
 boots and shoes ; and on his father's retirement from 
 business, in connection with his brothers, he carried on 
 the business at Lynn. He sold out, and, with others, 
 fitted up a ware-room under the Globe Theatre in Boston 
 as New England agents for the Weber piano. Later he 
 became a life-insurance agent, and, subsequently, was 
 agent for Charles Scribner's Sons, publishers, of New 
 York, whom he still represents. As to his literary at- 
 tainment, that which he has produced has, so to speak, 
 largely written itself. He has been a contributor to 
 many of the leading papers, a large number of his po- 
 
 4 
 
5© POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 ems having been occasional and local, and most of 
 them outgrowths of the times. Early in the Rebellion 
 he entered the service on the non-commissioned staff of 
 the twenty-third Massachusetts Regiment, and remained 
 in the army about two years in North Carolina. He then 
 held a civil office in the State Department there. He 
 was for some years secretary of the Salem Moral Society 
 and was also for several years a member of the Salem 
 city government. He has always been actively inter- 
 ested in musical matters in Salem and in Lowell, his 
 present place of residence. He was president of "The 
 Amphions" in Salem, held an office in the Salem Choral 
 Society, and has been choir-master in many churches in 
 Salem and Lowell. Since removing to Lowell, he has 
 been leader of the Hatton Club, and organizer and 
 leader of the Amphion Male Chorus, and the Madrigal 
 Club. 
 
 THE EMPTY SHOES. 
 Oh, blessed trust ! whatever else betide 
 God's gates of gold are ever opened wide 
 When infant feet press up the other side. 
 
 Only two little shoes ! 
 
 Two tiny, smooth-worn shoes, 
 
 With my best treasures laid aside, 
 
 But, never from my heart away, 
 
 By night or day, 
 
 Since Baby died. 
 
STEPHEN PIEBSON DRIVER. 5 1 
 
 Two little, tear-wet shoes ! 
 
 And yet I can't refuse 
 The lessons they teach to my spirit-ear ; 
 
 I can but hear 
 The messages of love they bring, 
 The words of hope they utter near. 
 
 The echoed songs they sing. 
 
 They whisper to me of our sundered bond, 
 Of the Vale of Dark, and the light Beyond ; 
 
 Of the kind, strong hand, 
 
 That our darling led 
 Through the silent pathways of the dead, 
 
 To the Better Land. 
 
 They tell me of earthly paths untrod ; 
 
 They lead me up to the streets of God ; 
 
 And they show me the gate where she passed in, 
 
 Her garments unstained by the soil of sin ; 
 
 And, as I sit in this shrouded room, 
 
 They scatter the gloom, 
 And the night is aglow with light and bloom. 
 
 Oh, wee, worn shoes ! ye are richer to me 
 Than are gold and gems of mine and sea ! 
 For the bliss ye speak is not bought and sold — 
 More priceless than gems, more enduring than gold — 
 And her sandals of joy can never grow old, 
 The sandals, love-wrought, which her feet infold. 
 
 Oh, the dainty, dimpled feet ! 
 Cherub-feet, with glory shod, 
 
52 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 On the street 
 Paved with pearl and amethyst, 
 Where they ramble, as they list, 
 Up and down the radiant highways, 
 Through the music-haunted by-ways, 
 By the thronging angels trod, 
 In the city called the Beautiful — the paradise of God. 
 
 Oh, the waiting little feet ! 
 Safe, within the sure retreat, 
 Safe, so near the mercy-seat ; 
 They shall wander ne'er again 
 On the slippery slopes of Pain, 
 Never grope, nor tire, nor stumble in earth's darkness 
 
 or its rain. 
 
 Safe for aye, from sin and sorrow, 
 
 Till the dawn of some to-morrow, 
 
 When, adown the heavenly street, 
 
 We shall greet 
 
 The on-coming of the welcome, and the patter of the 
 
 feet. 
 
 MARTHA LUCINDA EMERSON. 
 
 Mrs. Emerson was born in Chelmsford, Mass., No- 
 vember i, 1832, and was daughter of Rev. John and 
 Celia (Burrows) Parkhurst. She was one of eleven chil- 
 dren. Her father was a clergyman of the Baptist de- 
 nomination, with a small salary and a large farm, on 
 which the children found employment and a happy 
 
MABTHA LTJCINDA EMERSON. 53 
 
 childhood. Mattie attended the district and private 
 schools, and also spent several terms at the academy. 
 At the age of ten, she united with her father's church. 
 Two years later a dissension occurred in the church, and 
 she, with about one half of the members, asked for and 
 obtained a dismissal. Those who had left formed a new 
 church, which Mattie refused to join. Doubts arose in 
 her mind as to the consistency of the Baptist faith, and 
 at length she adopted a belief resembling Spiritualism. 
 She says : "Since then the light has steadily increased, 
 the darkness of the misty man-made creeds disappearing 
 like frostwork before the sun, until I feel that I stand in 
 the glorious light and liberty of the children of the one 
 eternal God." She married Mr. Rums W. Emerson of 
 Chelmsford in 1855, and has resided for twenty years 
 in Boxford. As a child she was imaginative and spent 
 a large portion of her time in happy day-dreams, but 
 since her marriage, has devoted herself almost exclu- 
 sively to the active duties of domestic life. Her children 
 were married several years ago, so she is again giving 
 much of her time to the society of the muse, of whom 
 she has learned so well. She has published about two 
 hundred articles in the local newspapers. Her health 
 is poor and her hair has begun to turn gray, but she is 
 as genial and spiritualistic as ever. 
 
 A PICTURE. 
 A storm-dark night, and sky 
 Where clouds wind-driven fly, 
 
54 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Their jagged outlines by sharp lightnings gilt ; 
 
 Roaring of crested surge 
 
 Which gales tempestuous urge 
 On rocks, like castles by the Titans built. 
 
 One rock rose black and bare 
 
 In the spray-moistened air, 
 And all around it dread abysses yawned ; 
 
 And on its summit stood 
 
 In fearful solitude, 
 One with a face as though the day had dawned. 
 
 With eyes upturned he gazed, 
 
 A steady hand upraised, 
 Pointing to where through parted clouds were seen 
 
 A planet's radiant eye 
 
 Looking serene and high 
 In peaceful faith upon the awful scene. 
 
 Lift up thy voice, O sea ! 
 
 Chant of the mystery 
 That thy unfathomed depths hold evermore ! 
 
 Dash thy wild waves on high 
 
 Towards the wild threatening sky, 
 Time's breaking chords shall catch thy final roar ! 
 
 But the enraptured eyes, 
 
 Lifted to opening skies, 
 On glorious down-pouring light are placed ; 
 
 Life's terrors cannot harm, 
 
 Her faith's eternal calm 
 Rears a firm rock amidst the howling waste. 
 
SAMUEL WALTEB FOSS. 55 
 
 SAMUEL WALTER FOSS. 
 Mr. Foss was born in Candia, N. H., June 19, 1858, 
 and was son of Dyer and Polly (Hardy) Foss. He 
 graduated from the Portsmouth, N. H., high school in 
 1877, and from Brown University in 1882, being poet 
 of his class. He settled in Lynn, Mass., and became 
 sole editor and manager of the Lynn Saturday Union 
 in 1883. He continued in that position until 1886, 
 when the paper was sold. He then became a regular 
 contributor to the Boston Globe, New York Sun, Puck, 
 The Judge, Tune, Detroit Free Press, and Tid Bits, 
 and an occasional writer for The Yankee Blade, New 
 York World, Chicago Ledger, Lynn Saturday Union, 
 and other publications. In August, 1887, he became 
 editor of The Yankee Blade, a position which he still 
 holds. He has done much editorial work for daily 
 papers, and many of the best articles found in the edi- 
 torial columns of some of the Boston dailies were from 
 his pen. He was sometimes called by Tid Bits, "Our 
 Own Poet," and wrote a page or so each week for it, 
 mostly anonymously. He has generally signed his arti- 
 cles, " S. W. Foss," sometimes with his initials, and in 
 a few instances, " F. S. Walters." While editor of the 
 Union he originated the so-called " long-tailed " style 
 of versification. Mr. Foss has written some good serious 
 poems, but the great mass of his work has been of the 
 comic class. In this he has been very successful, hav- 
 ing furnished to the public some of the best hits and 
 satires ever published. The name of "Sam Foss " is 
 
56 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 known to the readers of the leading publications de- 
 voted to humorous literature the world over. 
 
 NATURE'S CALL FOB MEN. 
 Bring me men to match my mountains, 
 
 Bring me men to match my plains, 
 Clear of heart as woodland fountains, 
 
 With new eras in their brains. 
 Bring me men of native power, 
 
 Trained and magnified by art, 
 Bring me men whose richest dower 
 
 Is their rectitude of heart. 
 
 Bring me men of lofty vision, 
 
 Bring me men of hopeful cheer, 
 Men of high and proud derision — 
 
 Bring me men who mock at fear ; 
 Bring me men of strong emotions, 
 
 Men of natures quick and warm, 
 Men with heart-throbs like the ocean's 
 
 In the tempest and the storm. 
 
 Bring me men of proud defiance, 
 
 Bring me men of righteous hate, 
 Bring me young and thoughtful giants, 
 
 Strong to bear the blows of fate . 
 Bring me men of sacred passion, 
 
 Bring me men of holy rage, 
 Men whose fiery thought shall fashion, 
 
 Guide and sanctify their age. 
 
WILLIAM LL YD GABBISON. 5 7 
 
 Bring me men of fervid gladness, 
 
 Bring me men whose hearts attune 
 To the glad and sportive madness 
 
 Of the singing birds of June. 
 Men of laughter like a fountain, 
 
 Men whose gladness cheer shall be, 
 Like the moonlight on the mountain, 
 
 Or the sunlight on the sea. 
 
 Bring me men whose lofty mission 
 
 Is the world's work, yet unwrought, 
 Men of glad prophetic vision, 
 
 Men of grand and bard-like thought — 
 Bring me men to match my mountains, 
 
 Bring me men to match my plains, 
 Clear of heart as woodland fountains, 
 
 With new eras in their brains. 
 
 • WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 
 
 Mr. Garrison was born in Newburyport, Mass., De- 
 cember io, 1805, and was son of Capt. Abijah and 
 Frances Maria (Lloyd) Garrison. Becoming a printer 
 quite young, the office was his teacher. He edited The 
 Free Press, and afterward The National Philanthro- 
 pist. He became the slave's advocate ; and, connecting 
 himself with The Genius of Universal Emancipation, 
 in a voice of thunder he demanded their immediate 
 
58 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 freedom. In 1831, he founded The Liberator, which 
 lived till the bondmen became free, being first published 
 in a dark chamber in Boston, by the help of a negro 
 boy. The apathy of the clergy on the slave question 
 caused a change from his Orthodox belief to a liberal 
 faith : he was no infidel, as is sometimes said. He 
 made three trips to Great Britain to stir up the anti- 
 slavery interest there. In 1835, in Boston, he was 
 mobbed and dragged through the street, his clothing 
 being torn from his person. Full of courage and faith 
 in God he pushed forward till the cause triumphed, and 
 then retired to private life. Going to Great Britain in 
 1867 on account of ill-health, a public breakfast was 
 held in his honor in London, a dinner at Manchester, 
 suppers atNewcastle-on-Tyne, Edinburgh and Glasgow ; 
 and the freedom of Edinburgh was given to him. He 
 afterward lived quietly at "Rockledge" in Roxbury, 
 Mass., and, after a distressing illness, died in New York 
 City May 24, 1879, at tne a S e °f seventy-three. His 
 style of speaking and writing was simple. He was not 
 an orator ; but his intense earnestness gave him the at- 
 tention and sympathy of his audiences. He was genial 
 and modest, thinking little of himself, but everything of 
 his cause. He wrote poetry throughout his marvellous 
 career, and some of his sonnets are hardly excelled in 
 depth of feeling and poetic beauty. 
 
 His poems have been published in a volume. 
 
 Two memoirs of him, with portraits and other en- 
 gravings, were published, one in 1880 and the other in 
 two volumes in 1885. 
 
WILLIAM LL YD GABBISON. 5 9 
 
 LIBEBTY FOB ALL. 
 
 They tell me, Liberty ! that in thy name 
 I may not plead for all the human race, 
 That some are born to bondage and disgrace, 
 
 So, to a heritage of woe and shame, 
 
 And some to power supreme, and glorious fame : 
 With my whole soul I spurn the doctrine base 
 And, as an equal brotherhood, embrace 
 
 All people, and for all fair freedom claim ! 
 
 Know this, O man ! whate'er thy earthly fate — 
 God never made a tyrant nor a slave : 
 
 Woe, then, to those who dare to desecrate 
 His glorious image — for to all He gave 
 
 Eternal rights which none may violate ; 
 
 And by a mighty hand, th' oppressed He yet shall 
 save ! 
 
 FBEEDOM OF THE MIND. 1 
 
 High walls and huge the body may confine, 
 
 And iron grates obstruct the prisoner's gaze, 
 And massive bolts may baffle his design, 
 
 And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways : 
 Yet scorns th' immortal mind this base control ! 
 
 No chains can bind it and no cell inclose : 
 Swifter than light, it flies from pole to pole, 
 
 And, in a flash, from earth to heaven it goes ! 
 It leaps from mount to mount — from vale to vale 
 
 It wanders, plucking honeyed fruits and flowers ; 
 
 J This sonnet was written on the wall of his cell while imprisoned for libel. 
 
60 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 It visits home, to hear the fireside tale, 
 
 Or in sweet converse pass the joyous hours : 
 'Tis up before the sun, roaming afar, 
 And, in its watches, wearies every star ! 
 
 EMILY ADAMS GETCHELL. 
 
 Miss GETCHEixwas born in Newbury, now a part of 
 Newburyport, Mass., February 7, 1850, and was daugh- 
 ter of Hubbard and Hannah Rolfe (Pillsbury) Getchell. 
 She is of pure Yankee ancestry, which she betrays in 
 her ingenious poems and witticisms. She was educated 
 at the Putnam Free School, and has resided ever since 
 her birth in the house in which she was born. She has 
 always been interested in literature, and began to com- 
 pose verses when she was but eight years of age, though 
 she did not appear in print until her eighteenth year. 
 She has published her contributions to the press over the 
 nom de plumes of " Clephane Ritchie " and " Collette," 
 and has written for the Newburyport Herald, Waverly 
 Magazine, Bailouts Monthly Magazine, and other pe- 
 riodicals in Boston and Augusta. Her writings betray 
 an apprehensive and thoroughly read mind, an interest 
 in history, and a due appreciation of the minor lines 
 which make up the perfectness of a pen picture. She 
 is one of the few now resident in the county, who are 
 worthy to take a place among the gifted with this heav- 
 en-born talent. She is of medium height, slender in 
 
EMIL Y ADAMS GETCHELL. 6 1 
 
 figure, and a blonde, with a nervous temperament, her 
 mental powers being stronger than her physical. She 
 has strong perseverance and will power, and large mu- 
 sical and artistic faculties. She mingles in society, 
 and takes her part in public affairs, being prominently 
 connected with several organizations, charitable, literary 
 and social. 
 
 FB OBISHEB DA VIS GBEELEY. 
 
 " WAES HEIL!" 
 
 It — i. e. the discovery of the northwest passage or the north 
 pole — is still the only thing left undone, whereby a notable mind 
 might be made famous and remarkable. — Martin Frobisher, 
 16th century. 
 
 The sea-birds wheel above the cliffs of Devon, 
 
 The summer sun beats down 
 On fisher's boats all idle, and beyond them 
 
 The brown roofs of the town. 
 
 High festival the hearty folk are keeping — 
 
 Unchecked the mirth and din ; 
 And young and old press round the low-browed portal 
 
 And windows of the inn, 
 
 To scan, if haply fortune bless their vision, 
 
 With pride those stalwart forms 
 And faces tanned, grown stern in many a battle 
 
 With northern ice and storms. 
 
62 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Happy the eager ears that catch the burden 
 
 Of wondrous stories told 
 Of awesome sounds, foul vapors, and the deadly 
 
 White terror of the cold ; 
 
 How when the grizzly death his icy fingers 
 
 Laid on their comrades brave, 
 Amid the eternal snows, in the grim midnight, 
 
 They made their lonely grave. 
 
 When perils past and safely at their haven 
 
 With joy their hearts were stirred, 
 Their royal mistress for their toils and daring, 
 
 Thanked them with gracious word. 
 
 The tankards brimming o'er with generous liquor 
 
 Circle from hand to hand ; 
 Staunch loyal Britons all, they shout together 
 
 For queen and native land. 
 
 "JVaes heil! waes heil! ye sea-dogs of bold Devon I" 
 
 The pledge rings far and free ; 
 The startled gulls and curlews scream an echo 
 
 Over the white-capped sea. 
 
 The days and years sink down time's silent ocean 
 
 Till centuries are told ; 
 But hero hearts and deeds know of no nation, 
 
 Their spirit ne'er grows old. 
 
 The sea-kings stout, brave Frobisher and Davis, 
 Are dust and ashes all ; 
 
EMILY ADAMS GETCHELL. 63 
 
 The Tudor lioness sleeps at Westminster 
 Beneath her velvet pall ; 
 
 But the glad voice of greeting and of triumph 
 
 Still sounds across the tide ; 
 A sister-land brings home her sea-worn heroes 
 
 With joy and love and pride. 
 
 Still thy unquiet waves to bear them over, 
 
 O, leaping harbor bar ! 
 Sing "Home, sweet home," O, yellow shifting sand dunes, 
 
 And Newbury's hills afar. 
 
 Crowd the long, shaded streets and hang out banners, 
 
 Rouse up the ancient town ; 
 For sires and grandsires see their age fall from them 
 
 With every child's renown. 
 
 Open the doors alike to son and stranger, 
 
 Make broad the board within, 
 For joy, like sorrow, levels prince and peasant, 
 
 And makes the whole world kin. 
 
 Would God we had them all ! Pitiless kingdom 
 
 Of the eternal frost, 
 Thou guardest secrets well ; we read thy archives 
 
 At what a bitter cost. 
 
 Not all unmixed the laurel and the oak-leaf, 
 
 Droops forth the cypress, too ; 
 We crown ye with DeLong, and Hall and Franklin, 
 
 O, gallant hearts and true ! 
 
64 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Peace to their ashes ! Their life duties ended, 
 
 God giveth them His sleep, 
 Hail to the living, rescuers and rescued, 
 
 Their fame we green will keep. 
 
 Safe home at last ! The eyes that gaze are misty, 
 
 And words grow poor and fail ; 
 We fill the loving-cup to over-flowing — 
 
 Brothers and friends, " Waes heilP 1 
 
 Note. " Waes heil /" is an old Norse drinking salutation, 
 meaning, literally, " Be in health. " The English synonym is, 
 "Here's to you!" or "I'll pledge you!" Martin Frobisher made 
 voyages to the polar regions 15 76-1 5 78. John Davis made his 
 most noteworthy voyages in the same direction 1585-1588. Lt. 
 Greeley arrived at his home in Newburyport in 1884, and this 
 poem was written for and read at his reception. 
 
 HANNAH FLAGG GOULD. 
 
 Miss Gould was born in Lancaster, Mass., Septem- 
 ber 3, 1789, and was daughter of Capt. Benjamin and 
 Grizzel Apthorp (Flagg) Gould. She never married, and 
 resided with her father, at first in her native town, soon 
 afterward removing with him to Newburyport, where 
 the remainder of her life was spent. She found her 
 chief joy in being the solace of her father's declining 
 years. She was his sole companion; and her unceas- 
 ing care, tender solicitude, and delightful temperament 
 cheered his weary loneliness as long as his spirit could 
 be kept from the confines of the other world. After 
 
HANNAH FLAGG GOULD. 65 
 
 his decease, she continued to write verses, as she had 
 done for several years, in her graceful and playful style. 
 Her poems have always been much admired. Her 
 tone is often tender, and the lyrics she composed are 
 of a simple, easy cast, being pervaded by her gentle and 
 pure spirit, and having within them a charming rhythm, 
 which gave them a permanency in the memory. She 
 was vivacious and witty, and wrote but little of love, 
 seemingly giving but little thought- to the subject. In 
 Newburyport, September 5, 1865, at the age of seventy- 
 six, she departed, as she had herself written, to 
 
 "That country, that home, the unsatisfied spirit 
 Here sighs to recover, and hopes to inherit." 
 
 Her name will always be held in affectionate remem- 
 brance for her disinterested and devoted love to her 
 aged father, as well as for the artless beauty and sweet- 
 ness of her writings. 
 
 Beside her prose writings, Miss Gould published, in 
 verse, "The Diosma" in 1850; "The Youth's Coronal" 
 in 185 1 ; " Hymns and Poems for Children " in 1854 ; 
 and general collections in 1832, 1835, l &4 1 > an d in 
 1850. 
 
 A NAME IN THE SAND. 
 Alone I walked the ocean strand ; 
 A pearly shell was in my hand ; 
 I stooped and wrote upon the sand 
 
 My name — the year — the day. 
 As onward from the spot I passed, 
 
 5 
 
66 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 One lingering look behind I cast — 
 
 A wave came rolling, high and fast, 
 
 And washed my lines away. 
 
 And so, methought, 'twill shortly be 
 With every mark on earth from me ; 
 A wave of dark oblivion's sea 
 
 Will sweep across the place 
 Where I have trod the sandy shore 
 Of time, — and been, to be no more ; — 
 Of me, my name, the name I bore, 
 
 To leave no track nor trace. 
 
 And yet, with Him who counts the sands 
 And holds the waters in His hands, 
 I know a lasting record stands 
 
 Inscribed against my name, 
 Of all this mortal part has wrought, 
 Of all this thinking soul has thought, — 
 And from these fleeting moments caught- 
 
 For glory or for shame. 
 
 ANNE GARDNER HALE. 
 
 Miss Hale was born in Newburyport, Mass., August 
 5, 1823, and was daughter of Jacob and Mary Jane 
 (Hoyt) Hale. She was educated at Miss Sarah Ann 
 Wade's private school for young ladies, and at Roger 
 S. Howard's select school, in her native city. She be- 
 gan to rhyme when a child, and to write verses at the 
 age of thirteen, first appearing in print at the age of sev- 
 
ANNE GABDNEB HALE. 67 
 
 enteen. She at first published her effusions anony- 
 mously, subsequently signing her initials, an asterisk, or 
 a letter of the alphabet taken at random, and sometimes 
 two or more letters taken consecutively. She, also, some- 
 times wrote over the name of "Alice Hawthorne," and 
 of "Edith May," using the latter name until she learned 
 that there was another "Edith May." She at length 
 signed her own full name. Her efforts have been pub- 
 lished in more than twenty different publications. Her 
 prose writings consist of two volumes of stories, a pam- 
 phlet, book reviews, essays, and papers on various top- 
 ics. She is a ready writer, and her utterances are fine, 
 true, and high-minded. Her style is sometimes quaint, 
 and she is often witty and weird. She is about prepar- 
 ing a volume of her poems for the press. She has a san- 
 guine-nervous temperament, and a passion for books, 
 music, and wild-flowers. Her home is one of those 
 old-fashioned, square three-story houses, with wide halls 
 and large, high rooms, which are characteristic of the 
 quaint old city of Nevvburyport, where she has always 
 resided. From her windows she can look down upon 
 the dreamy vistas of morning light stretching out over 
 the harbor bar and sand dunes, and watch the sea in 
 all its varied moods. ' . ^ 
 
 GBASS. 
 
 The stately oak and the graceful vine, 
 
 And flowers that brighten vale and hill, 
 Will live in the poet's flowing line 
 
 So long as his measures the heart-strings thrill ; — 
 
68 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 I strike my lyre to a humbler theme — 
 
 Yet worthier far of the world's proud lays — 
 
 So long neglected, the task I deem 
 My own to yield it its claim of praise. 
 
 I sing the grass, the homely grass, 
 
 That bows at the breath of the passing wind. 
 Its gifts in value to man surpass 
 
 Rich ore of Ophir and gems of Ind ; 
 And the eye that sees in the dew-drop's sheen • 
 
 The beauty that glows in the rainbow's arch 
 Can trace in the meadow's garb of green 
 
 Of its upward glory the wondrous march. 
 
 Despised — down-trodden — it springs aloft, 
 
 On the ladder of earthly needs up-sent, 
 From the sleek kine grazing around the croft 
 
 To the soul's strength gathered from pure health lent. 
 For ever the noblest of earth depends 
 
 On this humblest link in the chain of power, 
 And the vigorous frame to the soul extends 
 
 Its faithful services hour on hour. 
 
 So I sing the praise of the waving grass, 
 
 Along the road, or on fertile lea ; 
 Whose serried armies of blades surpass 
 
 The hosts overwhelmed in war's red sea ; 
 Who peacefully battle from age to age 
 
 Against gaunt famine and his allies, — 
 No nobler theme can the muse engage 
 
 Than these conquerors' deeds of high emprise ! 
 
LOUISA JANE HALL. 69 
 
 O, the grass so green in the springtime gay, 
 
 Or its golden plenty of perfect grain, 
 Or its fragrant breath in the new-mown hay, 
 
 Shall ever my grateful praises gain ! 
 To the homely grass that lays at our feet, 
 
 In its deep humility, blessings high ! 
 Nor kings of the forest, nor blossoms sweet, 
 
 Shall hide its worth from the earnest eye. 
 
 LOUISA JANE HALL. 
 
 Mrs. Hall was born in Newburyport, Mass., Febru- 
 ary 2, 1802, and was daughter of Dr. John and Louisa 
 (Adams) Park. The family removed to Boston when 
 she was about two years old, and in 1 8 1 1 her father 
 opened a school for young ladies, partly that she might 
 have the best advantages in obtaining an education and 
 at the same time be under his immediate care. She 
 was an industrious scholar, and the thoroughness of her 
 study shows itself all through her works by her chaste and 
 correct style. She continued in her father's school un- 
 til she was seventeen. At the age of twenty, she began 
 to publish poems, anonymously, in the Literary Ga- 
 zette, and other papers and magazines. She lacked con- 
 fidence in her own powers, and was always distrustful 
 of the public reception of her articles. She would have 
 written much more but for this reason, together with ill- 
 health and impaired eye-sight. She also published a 
 historical tale, and a biography of Elizabeth Carter, the 
 
70 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 English authoress. Allibone says that few American 
 poetical compositions have been more highly com- 
 mended than "Miriam," a drama in verse, Mrs. Hall's 
 finest work, which was written in 1826. In 1831, the 
 family removed to Worcester, and in 1840 she married 
 Rev. Edward B. Hall, a Unitarian minister of Provi- 
 dence, R. I., where they afterward lived. Mr. Hall 
 died in 1866, and his widow continued to reside in 
 Providence until 1872, when she removed to Boston, 
 where she has since resided. She is the oldest of the 
 Essex county poets that are still alive. 
 
 A volume of Mrs. Hall's writings, entitled "Verse and 
 Prose," was published in 1850. 
 
 EXTBACT FEOM "MIRIAM." 
 
 Thraseno. Where wouldst thou seek for peace or 
 
 quietness, 
 If not beside the altar of thy God ? 
 
 Miriam. Within these mighty walls of sceptred 
 
 Rome 
 A thousand temples rise unto her gods, 
 Bearing their lofty domes unto the skies, 
 Graced with the proudest pomp of earth ; their shrines 
 Glittering with gems, their stately colonnades, 
 Their dreams of genius wrought into bright forms, 
 Instinct with grace and godlike majesty, 
 Their ever-smoking altars, white-robed priests, 
 And all the pride of gorgeous sacrifice. 
 
ALICE COB A HAMMOND. 7 1 
 
 And yet these things are naught. Rome's prayers as- 
 cend 
 To greet th' unconscious skies, in the blue void 
 Lost like the floating breath of frankincense, 
 And find no hearing or acceptance there. 
 And yet there is an Eye that ever marks 
 Where its own people pay their simple vows, 
 Though to the rocks, the caves, the wilderness, 
 Scourged by a stern and ever-watchful foe ! 
 There is an Ear that hears the voice of prayer 
 Rising from lonely spots where Christians meet, 
 Although it stir not more the sleeping air 
 Than the soft waterfall, or forest breeze. 
 Thinks't thou, my father, this benignant God 
 Will close His ear, and turn in wrath away 
 From the poor sinful creature of His hand, 
 Who breathes in solitude her humble prayer? 
 Thinks't thou He will not hear me, should I kneel 
 Here in the dust beneath His starry sky, 
 And strive to raise my voiceless thoughts to Him, 
 Making an altar of my broken heart ? 
 
 ALICE CORA HAMMOND. 
 
 Mrs. Hammond was born in January, 185 1, in Texas, 
 at "Deeron's Point," near Matagorda, the peninsula hav- 
 ing since been entirely washed away in a very severe 
 storm. She was the daughter of William Farrington and 
 
72 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Alice Williams (Bridges) Oliver, both of whom were 
 Northern people. When she was about four years of 
 age, a tornado swept away their property and very nearly 
 themselves. This decided her father to return to the 
 North. Soon after doing so, he concluded to settle in 
 Lynn, Mass., where his relatives resided and where he 
 was born. There the family have since lived. Alice 
 studied in the public schools, and afterward taught in 
 them three years, at the end of which time she married 
 Mr. Charles A. Hammond of that city, superintendent 
 of the Boston and Revere Beach Railroad. She began 
 to write when quite young, and her early effusions were 
 published in the local papers. She has since contrib- 
 uted poems to The Christian Union, New York Home 
 Journal, Portland Tra?iscript, New York Observer, 
 The Watchman, Golden Days, The Californian Mag- 
 azine, The Chicago Ledger, and Cottage Hearth. One 
 of her youthful poems, entitled "Only," has been set to 
 music by "Virginia Gabriel" in this country, and also 
 by an English composer. For the last two or three 
 years she has done but little literary work on account 
 of her numerous family cares. 
 
 TEE LITTLE " CHOBISTEB. " 
 In the early summer morning, while the dew gleams on 
 
 the grass, 
 And the flying, fleecy cloudlets make strange shadows 
 
 as they pass, 
 
ALICE COB A HAMMOND. 73 
 
 Through the wide, old-fashioned doorway comes the 
 
 tread of marching feet, 
 And a tuneless, timeless singing in a baby's accent sweet. 
 Soon the chanting voice comes nearer, and within the 
 
 doorway stands 
 Smallest "chorister" that ever held a note-book in his 
 
 hands ; 
 Curly head full proudly lifted, blue eyes fastened on his 
 
 "score" 
 (Sure a sober daily paper never met such use before). 
 Smiling lips send forth the "music" — shade of Mozart ! 
 
 what a strain ! 
 While the small, uncertain footsteps strive to keep the 
 
 "time," in vain. 
 Not in minster or cathedral e'er were heard such strains 
 
 of yore ; 
 And I listen till the chanting dies away without the 
 
 door. 
 Ah, my baby, if, outgrowing all thy childhood's words 
 
 and ways, 
 Thou shalt keep thy joyous spirit that seems ever giv- 
 ing praise, 
 Or if in the choir of angels thou shalt sing Te Deums 
 
 grand, 
 No one knoweth save our Father ; all thy times are in 
 
 His hand ; 
 Yet on memory's page emblazoned shall I see thee, 
 
 passing fair, 
 Smiling, singing, with the sunshine trembling in thy 
 
 golden hair. 
 
74 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 PHEBE ANNE HANAFORD. 
 Mrs. Hanaford was born on the Island of Nantucket, 
 Mass., May 6, 1829, and was daughter of George Wash- 
 ington and Phebe Ann (Barnard) Coffin, both of whom 
 were Quakers. She studied in the schools of her na- 
 tive place until she was fifteen, and afterward con- 
 tinued her studies with her rector. She began to write 
 in rhyme when very young, her earliest remembered 
 verses having been written when eight years old. Her 
 poems first appeared in print when she was thirteen. 
 She was married in 1849, taught school a year at New- 
 ton, then resided in her native place till 1857, at which 
 time, with her family, she removed to Beverly, and be- 
 came active in the temperance cause. In 1864, she re- 
 moved to Reading, and from 1866 for three years she 
 was editor of the Ladies 1 Repository and The Myrtle. In 
 1866 she commenced preaching in Hingham, and in 
 1868 was ordained pastor of the First Universalist 
 church there, being the first woman ever ordained to 
 the gospel ministry in New England. During the year 
 1869, she preached at both Hingham and Waltham, 
 then in New Haven, Conn., for four years, subsequently 
 in Jersey City, N. J., until 1884, when she returned to 
 New Haven, where with voice and pen she is still ac- 
 tively engaged in the Master's service. In 1870, she 
 served several times as chaplain in the Connecticut leg- 
 islature, and also in 1872, being the first woman ever 
 called to act in that capacity. She has published twelve 
 volumes of prose, some of them having had immense 
 
PHEBE ANNE HANAFOBD. 75 
 
 sales. She is a favorite lecturer, a successful preacher, 
 and a worker for woman suffrage, and all reforms of the 
 times. 
 
 Mrs. Hanaford's largest collection of poems is enti- 
 tled "From Shore to Shore, and Other Poems," and 
 was published, with her portrait, in 187 1. 
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE OCEAN. 
 
 Tis moonlight on the ocean ; and the mighty waters 
 sleep, 
 
 Save where the line of radiance comes across the path- 
 less deep : 
 
 There billows weave a fairy dance, and sparkle in the 
 light 
 
 Which falls so softly on them now, amid the hush of 
 night. 
 
 I stand, upon the hilltop green, and gaze far o'er the 
 
 main, 
 And see the rocky islets there, and hear the waves 
 
 again, 
 Which beat in gentle cadences upon the pebbly shore, 
 And whisper of a distant isle my eyes may see no more. 
 
 Home, home, beyond those waters ! O home so dear to 
 
 me ! 
 Not e'en the crested billows can divide my heart from 
 
 thee. 
 
76 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Are moonbeams resting on the waves which break along 
 
 thy shore ? 
 And do the eyes I long to greet gaze on them as before ? 
 
 Moonlight upon the ocean : oh ! there is no fairer scene 
 This side the pearly gates of heaven, for mortal eyes, I 
 
 ween ; 
 And, while I gaze, my heart ascends with grateful praise 
 
 to Him 
 Before whose bounteous holiness the sheen of earth 
 
 grows dim. 
 
 Father and Savior ! Spirit pure ! my heart ascends to 
 thee, 
 
 That, wheresoe'er upon this earth my weary feet may be, 
 
 My eyes may gaze on scenes so fair through faith's re- 
 vealing glass, 
 
 That trustfully toward future days my steps may onward 
 pass. 
 
 For He who sends the moonlight now to make the deep 
 
 so fair — 
 God's smile upon the waters dark when gloomy night 
 
 is there — 
 Can send his spirit's joyful light to gleam along my 
 
 way,— 
 A line of holy radiance and a part of heaven's day. 
 
 O God ! I thank thee for the hours, when standing by 
 
 the sea, 
 Alone, or with beloved friends, my heart is drawn to 
 
 thee ; 
 
HIE AM BETT8 HASKELL. 7 7 
 
 For, while its quiet loveliness my spirit doth control, 
 This moonlight on the ocean shall be sunlight in my 
 
 soul. 
 —Beverly, Sept. 30, 1859. 
 
 HIRAM BETTS HASKELL. 
 Mr. Haskell was born in Frederickton, New Bruns- 
 wick, January 17, 1823, and was son of Caleb and 
 Fanny Matilda (Betts) Haskell. When he was about 
 five years of age, the family removed to Newburyport, 
 Mass., where he was reared, being educated in the com- 
 mon schools. He was for a while a clerk in a grocery 
 store, and then went to Boston, where he pursued the 
 drug business until he was about twenty-three years old. 
 He devoted the remainder of his life to portrait painting, 
 for which he possessed considerable talent and skill. He 
 was also a lecturer, an actor and an editor. He wrote 
 for the Newburyport Daily Ufiion, and other papers, in 
 both prose and verse, his poetry always being good, and 
 many of his efforts fine. He was never married, and 
 spent most of his life in his bachelor quarters in New- 
 buryport. He was extremely sensitive and tender in 
 his nature, having a strong sense of truth and honor, 
 and being generous to a fault, with not a particle of love 
 for money or money-getting. He was agreeable and 
 entertaining in society ; but when at work his attention 
 was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. While 
 painting a portrait at Byfield parish, Newbury, he was 
 
78 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 found in his room there one morning, in an unconscious 
 state, and thus remained till his death, which occurred 
 two days later, August 22, 1873, at the age of fifty. 
 
 "The half finished portrait on the easel, 
 The pencil and the palette lying still, 
 With no more rhythm from the point of quill ; 
 His work was done, whether ill or well." 
 
 TBUTH AND BEAUTY. 
 
 Truth welleth up by beauty's side : 
 Whoe'er shall seek its crystal tide 
 Shall see the gems that flash below, 
 The flowers that on its borders grow, — 
 Yet fearful is the timid world 
 
 Amid romantic haunts to stray, 
 Where beauty's banner is unfurled, 
 Lest it should meet upon its way 
 Some syren singing to betray. 
 
 Be faithful, brothers, and believe ; 
 The beautiful can ne'er deceive. 
 Look up into the tranquil sky, 
 And see if thou canst read a lie ; 
 All pictured o'er with glorious clouds, 
 Like kings in bridal robes and shrouds, 
 Or eloquent with starry light 
 Seeking to cheer the sad, sweet night. 
 
 Look on the field and forest green, 
 On sunny hill and dark ravine : 
 
HIE AM BETTS HASKELL. 79 
 
 Still looking till thy gaze hath met 
 The windings of the rivulet ; 
 Where'er the reverend eye may roam 
 This knowledge to thy mind will come : 
 Infinite wisdom, power and love 
 Is written on the heavens above, 
 And on the grassy, flowery sod, 
 Each quivering leaf is lisping God ; 
 That beauty is but truth unbound, 
 And clad in colors and encrowned ; 
 Truth, bursting into bud and bloom, 
 
 Truth, rounding into form and grace, 
 The breaking of the light through gloom, 
 
 To gladden all the lonely space ; 
 For He, who made the ocean, gave 
 The foam- crest to the marching wave ; 
 Who flung the myriad orbs on high, 
 Gave all its beauty to the sky. 
 
 The beautiful is always true, 
 
 And falsehood hath no symmetry, — 
 Falling upon my heart like dew, 
 
 With soothing power this comes to me. 
 Are not the oracles of song 
 
 True as the dull logician's proof? 
 Where science throws her warp along 
 
 Beauty flies through the flowery woof. 
 There is not in the poet's dream, 
 Or in the bold reformer's scheme, 
 One thought baptized by beauty's kiss 
 
So POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 But brings at last its promised bliss ; 
 Whether in carol, code, or creed, 
 'Twill work its symbol in some deed. 
 
 May aught in human bosom prove 
 More loving than almighty love ? 
 Aught fairer in the poet's mind 
 Than the Great Artist hath designed ? 
 No ! — in the wildest glens of thought, 
 
 Where'er the flowers of fancy grow, 
 Each little bud, each leaf, hath caught 
 
 A spark from Heaven's eternal glow. 
 
 LUCY HOOPER. 
 
 Miss Hooper was born in Newburyport, Mass., Feb- 
 ruary 4, 1816, and was daughter of Joseph and Mary 
 (Whittemore) Hooper. From her father, who was a 
 merchant and a man of decided piety, strong mind and 
 cultivation, Lucy received her general education. As a 
 child she was docile, and full of quiet affection and rev- 
 erence. She had a strong desire to extend her studies, 
 but her delicate health forbade. She was passionately 
 fond of chemistry, ancient and modern history, literature, 
 the languages, and natural history, especially botany. 
 When she was fifteen years old, the family removed to 
 Brooklyn, N. Y., where she afterward resided until her 
 death. As soon as she was settled in her new home she 
 began to contribute to The Long Island Star, and other 
 
LUCY HOOPER. 81 
 
 periodicals, over her initials only. She wrote prose, 
 also, but loved best to express her thoughts and feelings 
 in verse, which seemed so natural to her. The loss of 
 her father and many other relatives and friends by death, 
 and her own slow but sure malady, consumption, sad- 
 dened all her thoughts, and shed a melancholy over her 
 efforts. A few weeks before her death she prepared a 
 work, entitled " The Lady's Book of Flowers and Po- 
 etry," which was published in 1845. She wrote with 
 taste, reflection and good judgment. This sweet, gifted, 
 and pure girl died at Brooklyn August 1, 1 841, at the 
 age of twenty-five. 
 
 In 1842, "The Literary Remains of Miss Hooper, " 
 with a memoir by the eloquent John Keese, was pub- 
 lished ; and in 1848, her "Complete Poetical Works" 
 was issued. 
 
 " IT IS WELL. " 
 'Twas a low grave they led me to, o'ergrown 
 With violets of the spring, and starry moss, 
 And all the sweet wild flowerets that disclose 
 Their hues and fragrance round the dreamless couch, 
 As if to tell how quietly the head 
 That here had throbbed so feverishly, doth rest. 
 'Twas a low grave, and the soft zephyrs played 
 Gently around it ; and the setting sun 
 Gleamed brightly on the marble at its head, 
 Bearing the date — the name — the few brief years, 
 Of one whose blessed lot it was to pass 
 6 
 
82 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 To the fair land of promise, ere the chill 
 And blight of this dark world had power to cast 
 A shade on life's pure blossom ; while the dew 
 Of morning was upon its leaves, and all 
 The outward world was beauty ; ere the eye 
 Had ever wept in secret, or the heart 
 Grown heavy with a sorrow unconfessed. 
 Was it a bitter lot ? That stainless stone 
 Answered the query ; but one line it bore — 
 One brief inscription, thrilling the deep heart 
 Of those who, leaning o'er that narrow mound, 
 Mused over life's vain sorrow : 
 
 "It is well." 
 Ay, the deep words had meaning ; but what grief 
 Had taught the lone survivors thus to count 
 The sum of all, and, struggling with their tears, 
 Write only — "It is well"? Oh ! well for her 
 To rest on that green earth — to lay the head 
 Unwearied on its bosom, and to seek 
 A refuge from the coldness of the world, 
 Ere yet its shaft had pierced her. 
 
 "It is well." 
 And, oh ! for us who, musing o'er that grave, 
 Sigh for the rest a stranger's breast hath found, 
 Were it not well, in the heart's hour of grief, 
 When earth is dim, and all her shining streams 
 Discourse no more in music to our ears — 
 When shadows rest upon her brightest flowers, 
 And the continued sorrow of the soul 
 Doth darken sun and moon, to dream at last 
 
L VISA PABSONS HO PKINS. 8$ 
 
 Of a still rest beneath the lowly stone — 
 A calm, unbroken slumber, where the eye 
 Shall weep no more in sadness, and the pulse 
 Forget its quick, wild throbbings ? 
 
 O'er that grave 
 Such were my musings, till a deeper truth 
 Broke on my mind, as the blue violet shed 
 Its sweetness round me, and the evening winds 
 Brought fragrance from afar ; and then I prayed, 
 In lowliness of heart, that I might bear 
 In faith "The heat and burden of the day," 
 And never, till His purpose was fulfilled, 
 And every errand He had set performed 
 In trusting patience, sigh for dreamless rest, 
 Nor till th' impartial pen of truth could write 
 Above that quiet refuge — "It is well." 
 
 LOUISA PARSONS HOPKINS. 
 
 Mrs. Hopkins was born in Newburyport, Mass., 
 April 19, 1834, and was daughter of Jacob and Eliza 
 (Atkins) Stone, both of them being people of marked 
 character. At the age of sixteen she graduated from the 
 Putnam Free School in her native town, and afterward 
 from the State Normal School. She then assumed the 
 profession of a teacher, and after a few years of suc- 
 cessful endeavor in that capacity she married Mr. John 
 Hopkins, a gentleman of New Bedford, becoming the 
 mother of a large family. She has always been a labo- 
 
84 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 rious student. She is widely interested in educational 
 affairs, connected with which she has published a num- 
 ber of volumes, and is at present one of the supervi- 
 sors of the Boston schools. In 1881, she printed her 
 first volume of poems, entitled " Motherhood, " which 
 aroused the warmest admiration, some of the strains be- 
 ing pronounced Miltonic. This was followed by "Per- 
 sephone," a remarkable and subtle poem, full of beauty 
 and music, and insight into the depths of nature. Mrs. 
 Hopkins is very attractive in her appearance ; she is 
 grey-eyed, her hair.is nearly blonde in color, and the 
 features of her face are cut with the precision of a 
 cameo. She is an entertaining companion, and her 
 highly wrought religious temperament has never inter- 
 fered with a great love of fun, nor her enthusiasms with 
 her keen penetration. A few years ago she returned to 
 her native place, where she has a beautiful home on the 
 banks of the Merrimac. 
 
 NONQUITT. 
 
 Summer has flashed her golden shuttle by 
 My dreaming eye, 
 
 Her shining web of days, so soft and fair, 
 Without a care 
 
 Is folding down into the silent past 
 Too bright to last. 
 
 Night unto night has told its peace serene 
 While Luna, queen, 
 
LOUISA PAESONS HOPKINS. 85 
 
 Paved her white shimmering path above the deep, 
 
 That stirred in sleep 
 To lisp its dreamy bliss around the shore 
 
 Forevermore. 
 
 Day unto day ushered its beauty in 
 
 With happy din, 
 Thrush and song-sparrow trilling through the hours, 
 
 While myriad flowers 
 Bespangled dewy grass and fragrant wood, 
 
 And all was good. 
 
 The odorous breeze wafted its music round, — 
 
 A varied sound. 
 Called from the wide campaign the whistling quail, 
 
 The tern's shrill wail 
 Answered afar, and boomed from rock to rock 
 
 The billow's shock. 
 
 Here have I sat without my cottage door 
 
 And watched the shore, 
 Followed its curving line to where the town 
 
 Lies sloping down, 
 Its clustering gems in simple beauty set, — 
 
 Fair coronet ! 
 
 And still along its amber thread of strand 
 
 Stretches the land, 
 Till the grim fortress at the harbour's mouth 
 
 Looks threatening, south, 
 But hears no sound save dash of sprays that wet 
 
 Its parapet. 
 
S6 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Then on and on the rippling waters spread 
 
 By cliff and head, 
 By long low neck, and sunny sanded isles, 
 
 The blue bay smiles, 
 Till like a soul within the conscious seas 
 
 Sits Penikese. 
 
 And to and fro the opal sails have sped, 
 
 Or glimmered red 
 The seven coast-lights about the land-locked bay, 
 
 While night and day 
 The broad blue sky with sun or star has lit 
 
 Light-bathed Nonquitt. 
 
 But now the slopes are shadowing with wings, 
 And southward swings 
 
 The clamoring host of swallows o'er the sea ; 
 'Tis time for me 
 
 To seek my closer eaves, and, sighing, fold 
 This cloth of gold. 
 
 MARY LAMBERT HORTON. 
 
 Miss Horton was born in that part of Danvers, 
 Mass., which is now Peabody, February 15, 1805, and 
 was daughter of Lemuel and Hannah (Porter) Horton. 
 Her mind matured at a very early age, and she was 
 uncommonly interesting. Her early life was the dawn- 
 ing of a genius, which, under proper cultivation, would 
 in after years have shone with brilliancy, and attained a 
 high position in the world of letters. An extended ed- 
 
MARY LAMBEB T HOB TON. 8 7 
 
 ucation was the object of her constant and eager desire, 
 but her physical weakness would not allow the necessary 
 application. In spite of her hindrances and discourage- 
 ments, she improved her talents, and spoke and wrote 
 with readiness and excellence. She began her literary 
 work at a very early period, founding most of her arti- 
 cles upon every-day events. She had an ardent affection 
 for the truth, a rich imagination, and a justness of ob- 
 servation. She had a deep poetic- nature ; pensiveness 
 being the peculiar characteristic of her productions. 
 She wrote for the Marblehead Register and Salem Reg- 
 ister, over the nom de plume of "M. Louisa," and also 
 over her three initials. She possessed a lovely charac- 
 ter, and was the ornament and solace of her mother's 
 home, gladdening and supporting her daily steps. Af- 
 ter a long sickness, with consumption, she died, in a 
 blissful state of mind, in Salem, on Sunday, August 28, 
 1831, at the age of twenty-six. 
 
 The next year after Miss Horton's decease, her "Po- 
 etical and Prose Compositions " were published in a 
 very small and thin bound volume. 
 
 MO ONLIGHT BE VEBIES. 
 Silent and beautiful ! I've watched thee, till 
 Imagination soared beyond the far 
 Blue curtains of thy palace ; and I've wished — 
 How ardently I've wished, to turn aside 
 The azure covering of the star-lit world, 
 
88 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 And learn its secret ! send my gaze 
 
 Beyond the blue exterior, and convey 
 
 Back to inquiring earth, eternity's soft answer. 
 
 But most of all, 
 To hold communion with celestial souls, 
 Who once were mortal ! dear departed ones 
 Who loved, instructed, cheered, and cherished us 
 Through life's trod valleys. 
 
 O could I learn 
 The nature, image, wishes, and the thoughts 
 Of parted spirits ! whether death 
 Has closed the mortal sympathies, and stayed 
 The life-tide of affection — severed all 
 The tender ties of nature, and congealed 
 The fountain of remembrance — or strung 
 The sympathies anew, and let more free 
 Affection's life-tide ; more firm united 
 Nature's every tie, and waked 
 New strains to memory. 
 
 EDWARD GILBERT HULL. 
 
 Mr. Hull was born June i, 1834, in Bradford, Mass., 
 in that portion of the town which has since been incor- 
 porated as the town of Groveland, and was son of Da- 
 rius and Sarah Fowler (Hardy) Hull. Living at home 
 during his minority he attended the district school and 
 acquired considerable education. When the war of the 
 Rebellion broke out, he volunteered to defend the Un- 
 
EDWABD GILBERT HULL. 89 
 
 ion cause, and served at the front as a sergeant in the 
 Twenty-third Regiment of the Massachusetts troops, 
 accompanying it with General Burnside in the expedi- 
 tion to Newbern and Roanoke Island. At the termi- 
 nation of his service he returned to his native hills, and 
 a few years later removed to the neighboring town of 
 Ipswich, which he made his residence. There he soon 
 became an office-holder, constituting one of the board 
 of selectmen of that ancient town for several years. Be- 
 ing esteemed by the people he was chosen to represent 
 the district, of which Ipswich then constituted a part, 
 in the Massachusetts House of Representatives for 
 1879. He has since that time given a considerable por- 
 tion of his time to literary pursuits, having, besides his 
 prose compositions, written some five hundred poems, 
 very many of which have been published. He is pos- 
 sessed of talent as a poet, and has written some pretty 
 songs and occasional pieces. He still resides in Ips- 
 wich, and at the present time is engaged on the Inde- 
 pendent, one of the Ipswich newspapers, being one of 
 the editors. 
 
 In 1886, Mr. Hull published "A Collection of Mis- 
 cellaneous Poems, with Drama, " a bound volume of 
 duodecimo size. 
 
 EBIN. 
 
 Far away in Emerald Erin, as the poets term the land, 
 Where the roses bloom more sweetly and the breezes 
 are more bland ; 
 
90 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Where the skies are ever beaming with a deeper, ten- 
 derer blue ; 
 
 Where the winding rivers wander on through vales of 
 greener hue ; 
 
 In a peasant's humble cottage, by the Shannon's rolling 
 
 tide ; 
 All as free from art's devices as its inmates are from 
 
 pride ; 
 In that low and humble cottage, plain and simple 
 
 though it be, 
 I have left my heart behind me far away beyond the 
 
 sea. 
 
 For the fairest flower that ever decked the vales of 
 Erin's Isle, 
 
 Patient there awaits my coming with a fond and trust- 
 ing smile ; 
 
 Wanders out at noon and even to the sacred trysting 
 tree, 
 
 Sending forth her sweetest blessings o'er the rolling tide 
 to me. 
 
 What were all the wealth I'm seeking, all the treasures 
 that I gain ? 
 
 All life's golden days before me, all the hopes I enter- 
 tain? 
 
 All these blissful dreams of pleasure, all I strive or wish 
 to be, 
 
 Were it not for that sweet maiden far away beyond the 
 sea. 
 
ANXIE ELIZA JOHNSON. 9 1 
 
 Fast the fleeting tide rolls onward to the dear appointed 
 
 day, 
 When the filling sails will waft me to my native land 
 
 away ; 
 When the bounding bark shall bear me to my waiting 
 
 Nora's side, 
 To the cottage in the valley by the Shannon's rolling 
 
 tide. 
 
 Though Columbia's shores are ringing with her free- 
 men's happy tones, 
 
 Though her hills and vales are dotted with a million 
 happy homes ; 
 
 I'll go back to sunny Erin, thrice fair but yet less free, 
 
 For I've left my heart behind me, far away beyond the 
 sea. 
 
 ANNIE ELIZA JOHNSON. 
 Mrs. Johnson was born in Nahant, Mass., August 
 19, 1827, and was daughter of Jonathan and Anna 
 (Stone) Johnson. She studied in the public school of 
 her native place, and subsequently attended Mrs. Put- 
 nam's private school in Reading, and the Lynn Acad- 
 emy. In 1849, sne na d the great sorrow of losing, by 
 death, her only sister, a loss which clouded her life ever 
 after, and which, perhaps, has influenced considerably 
 all that she has since written. The next year, she be- 
 came the wife of her second cousin, Mr. Charles Ben- 
 jamin Johnson of Lynn, and has two children, a son and 
 
92 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 a daughter. After her marriage, she continued to re- 
 side in Nahant, which is still her home. In winter, this 
 popular summer resort is a very quiet and isolated place, 
 yet having always lived here, she has become so accus- 
 tomed to its seclusion that she does not wish for any 
 other home. Outside of literary work, hers has been 
 the life of the greater portion of wives and mothers, ever 
 doing her many duties in a quiet, unostentatious way. 
 She has only written verses, and contributed them to 
 the Bostofi Atlas, Boston Traveller, Rambler, New 
 England Fanner, Christian Register, Daily Evening 
 Transcript, New York Christian Leader, Salem Reg- 
 ister , Lynn News , Lynn Reporter, Lynn Transcript, and 
 other papers, and for the Ladies* Repository, and other 
 magazines. Her poetry has the genius and sweetness 
 of a Moore, and ranks among the best productions of 
 our poets. 
 
 THE BELLS OF LYNN. 
 
 Far, far and wide, across the sea — 
 Farther than wild winds ever flung 
 
 The cadence of their melody — 
 A poet hath their praises sung. 
 
 In pleasant lands across the sea, 
 
 The magic of his song doth win 
 From kindly hearts, in pleasant homes, 
 Sweet praises for the bells of Lynn. 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 93 
 
 To me how many thoughts they bring 
 
 Of childhood's day, its smiles and tears, — 
 
 Ah, never more such chimes may ring 
 As gladdened all those happy years ! 
 
 We hear the cheerful bells at noon ; 
 
 And closing the brief winter-day ; 
 We, listening, wait, when "nine" at night 
 
 Rings, clear and sweet, across the bay. 
 
 But sweeter still, o'er summer seas, 
 Their distant music sinks and swells, 
 
 Now lost 'mid ocean-symphonies, 
 Now like a peal of fairy bells. 
 
 I see the gleaming lights shine out 
 
 Across the bay. Above the din 
 Of stormy winds and waves, how clear 
 
 Ring out, to-night, the bells of Lynn ! 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 Mr. Johnson was born in Salem, Mass., October 10, 
 1822, and was son of Dr. Samuel and Anna (Dodge) 
 Johnson. His boyhood was promising, and was passed 
 under influences favorable to its fullest development. 
 He was prepared for college in private schools in his 
 native place, and graduated at Harvard University in 
 1842. He entered the Cambridge divinity school, from 
 which he graduated in 1846. He became a Unitarian 
 minister, and, without ordination, preached in Boston 
 
94 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 for one year. His anti- slavery sentiments gave offence, 
 and he leftBostonin 1853, going to Lynn, where he was 
 pastor of a free church until 1870. His advanced views 
 were not in accordance with the ideas of the Unitarian 
 denomination generally, and he retired to the ancestral 
 home in North Andover, where he spent the remainder 
 of his life in study and authorship. He died there Feb- 
 ruary 19, 1882, at the age of fifty-nine years. In dis- 
 position he was pleasant, especially in his family, where 
 his exuberant gladness flowed full and free. He was 
 tender and faithful, with zeal for justice, freedom and 
 truth. He worshiped the great truths underlying all 
 forms and creeds, though never a materialist. He is 
 said to have been an enemy to Christianity, but he 
 sought nothing more nor less than the worship of the 
 Creator in spirit and in truth. He was an able poet, 
 and the author of "Oriental Religions." He was also 
 eloquent as an orator, being possessed of rare talent 
 and culture. 
 
 With Rev. Samuel Longfellow, Mr. Johnson pub- 
 lished " Hymns of the Spirit" in 1846. 
 
 A memorial of Mr. Johnson, with his photograph, was 
 published in 1882. 
 
 INSPIBATION. 
 
 Life of ages, richly poured, 
 
 Love of God, unspent and free, 
 
 Flowing in the prophet's word 
 And the people's liberty ! 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 95 
 
 Never was to chosen race 
 
 That unstinted tide confined ; 
 Thine in every time and place, 
 
 Fountain sweet of heart and mind ! 
 
 Secret of the morning stars, 
 ' Motion of the oldest hours, 
 Pledge through elemental wars 
 Of the coming spirit's -powers ! 
 
 Rolling planet, flaming sun, 
 Stand in nobler man complete ; 
 
 Prescient laws thine errands run, 
 
 Frame the shrine for Godhead meet. 
 
 Homeward led, the wondering eye 
 Upward yearned in joy or awe, 
 
 Found the love that waited nigh, 
 Guidance of thy guardian law. 
 
 In the touch of earth it thrilled ; 
 
 Down from mystic skies it burned ; 
 Right obeyed and passion stilled 
 
 Its eternal gladness earned. 
 
 Breathing in the thinker's creed, 
 
 Pulsing in the hero's blood, 
 Nerving simplest thought and deed, 
 
 Freshening time with truth and good, 
 
 Consecrating art and song, 
 Holy book and pilgrim track, 
 
96 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Hurling floods of tyrant wrong 
 From the sacred limits back, — 
 
 Life of ages, richly poured, 
 
 Love of God, unspent and free, 
 
 Flow still in the prophet's word 
 And the people's liberty ! 
 
 HENRY COGSWELL KNIGHT. 
 
 Mr. Knight was born in Hampton, N. H.,in 1788, 
 and was the son of Joseph and Elizabeth (Cogswell) 
 Knight. When Harry was very young he lost his mother, 
 and in his boyhood his father also died. He then went 
 to reside with his maternal grandfather, Dr. Cogswell, 
 in Rowley, Mass. Here he had a home which was de- 
 lightful to his nature. The house stood in the midst 
 of trees, always luxuriant, and alive with birds, whose 
 songs made life very pleasant. He found here intellect- 
 ual and polished society, and the simple and rural life 
 for which he longed. He attended Dummer Academy, 
 and graduated at Brown University in 1 8 1 2 . He studied 
 theology, and May 6, 1827, was ordained a deacon of 
 the Protestant Episcopal Church, by the bishop of 
 Massachusetts. He was afterward ordained to the 
 priesthood, and became a rector, serving in several par- 
 ishes. As a writer, and especially as a poet, he became 
 well-known. He had a want of decision, and always 
 felt as if he had made a mistake in the choice of his 
 profession. So in his literary work, he lacked that con- 
 
HENBY COGSWELL KNIGHT. 97 
 
 fidence in himself which success demands. He resided 
 in Boston two or three years, and returned to Rowley 
 a year or two before his death, which occurred there 
 January 10, 1835, at the age of forty-six. 
 
 Beside "Letters from the South and West," over the 
 signature of "Arthur Singleton," printed in 1824, and 
 two volumes entitled "Lectures and Sermons," in 183 1, 
 Mr. Knight published several volumes of poems, as fol- 
 lows : "The Cypriad," in 1809; "The Trophies of 
 Love;" "The Broken Harp," in 1815 ; and "Poems," 
 in two volumes, in 1821. 
 
 THE LITTLE SWEEP. 
 
 Sweep chimney, sweep ! 
 Sweep chimney, sweep ! 
 
 Pity the boy 
 
 Without employ, 
 The snow is very deep ; 
 
 O pity take, 
 
 For misery's sake, 
 Nor leave him cold to weep- 
 Poor little Afric sweep ! 
 
 He's very cold ; 
 Oh ! very cold ; 
 
 With nought to eat, 
 
 And frozen feet, 
 His doublet now grown old ; 
 
 His shoes are torn, 
 
98 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 This snowy morn, 
 And oh ! was Sampo sold 
 To die with winter's cold ? 
 
 None hear my cry ; 
 
 Soon I must die \ 
 
 For in the street, 
 No one I meet, 
 
 While in the snow I cry ; 
 Ah ! now I know, 
 In sheets of snow, 
 
 Poor Sampo cold must lie — 
 
 Ah ! with his brush must die. 
 
 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 Miss Larcom was born at the "Farms" in Beverly, 
 Mass., March 5, 1824, and was daughter of Benjamin 
 and Lois (Barrett) Larcom. The first ten years of her 
 life were passed in her native town, to which she has 
 always been filially attached. Her second decade was 
 spent at Lowell, where for a time she was employed as 
 an operative in the mills, and where she began to write, 
 her earliest articles, both prose and verse, appearing in 
 The Lowell Offering, to which she continued to be a 
 favorite contributor. She afterward went to Illinois, 
 where she taught and studied, graduating at Monticello 
 Seminary, in that state, after a three years' course of in- 
 struction. In 185 2, she returned to Massachusetts and 
 taught a young-ladies' school in Beverly, subsequently 
 
LUCY LAECOM. 99 
 
 teaching for six years in the Wheaton Seminary, at Nor- 
 ton. Since then she has taught in several academies 
 and seminaries. She still occasionally teaches or lec- 
 tures in young-ladies' schools, and resides at Beverly 
 Farms. While the magazine, entitled Our Young Folks, 
 was in existence, she was its leading editor for a year 
 or two. She has written almost all of her life, having 
 contributed to The Lowell Courier, Sartain's Union 
 Magazi?ie, The Crayon, and other periodicals. Her 
 poetry, much of which relates to Beverly and its vicin- 
 ity, is of a pleasant sort, and will long find a welcome 
 in every household. Her genius is particularly happy 
 in putting into verse the events of every-day life. 
 
 Miss Larcom has published several volumes of poems ; 
 her "Poems" in 1869 ; "An Idyl of Work" in 1874; 
 "Wild Roses of Cape Ann j" and "Poetical Works," 
 with portrait, in 1884. 
 
 IN THE BAIN. 
 
 A light flashed up in her sad blue eye, 
 Like a ray through a break in the cloudy sky, 
 As she leaned at the showered pane. 
 "Thank Heaven ! he's come !" — but the train shrieked 
 
 "Nay !" 
 And crashed o'er her dying hopes away. 
 Still she waited on 
 Till the day was gone, 
 Waited alone in the rain. 
 
ioo POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Ever, now and again, the cloud-rack through 
 There peeped a bud of the heavenly blue, — 
 
 Blue without speck or stain. 
 Then the young corn shook in its jewelled mist, 
 And the violets twinkled, pure amethyst ; 
 And her eye grew bright 
 With a dewy light, 
 Waiting alone in the rain. 
 
 But the soft blue flower of the sky shut up 
 Behind the tempest its hollow cup ; 
 
 The meadows were dim again : 
 And the warm light faded out of her eyes, 
 While she paced, and gazed on the restless skies, 
 While she tried to keep 
 Her wild heart asleep, 
 Waiting alone in the rain. 
 
 It streamed and poured from the shelving bank ; 
 It sprinkled mire on the sedges rank ; 
 
 It beat on the springing grain. 
 "Come home !" called the horn from behind the hill 
 She heard, but she lingered and listened still, 
 Still, gazing back 
 Down the iron track, 
 Waited alone in the rain. 
 
 The hours dragged by ; it was dark and late ; 
 The cars rushed on with their throbbing freight, 
 
 Screaming a laugh at her pain. 
 But the west uncurtained a wide, clear space, 
 
ALONZO LEWIS. 101 
 
 And the sunset lighted a laggard face, 
 And the wild, wet day 
 Stole in smiles away, 
 While two hurried home in the rain. 
 
 I ALONZO LEWIS. 
 
 Alonzo Lewis, only son of Zachariah and Mary 
 (Hudson) Lewis, was born in Lynn, Mass., August 28, 
 1 794. He received a thorough education, and became 
 proficient in many languages. He delighted to teach, 
 and was at one time head master of the Lynn Academy. 
 In 1 83 1 he established a school for young ladies in Bos- 
 ton, and taught until 1835. He wrote and published 
 a history of Lynn, an English grammar and a work on 
 geometry. During his whole life he wrote both prose 
 and poetry for current periodicals, and edited an anti- 
 slavery paper in Lynn before Mr. Garrison began to 
 publish the Liberator, of which paper, and also of the 
 Boston Traveller, he was for a time editorially in charge. 
 He had a religious and benevolent nature, and led a 
 consistent Christian life, attending services at St. Peter's 
 church in Salem, to which he walked every Sunday un- 
 til the Episcopal church in Lynn was established. His 
 poetic talent displayed itself quite early in life, some of 
 his poems having been written at the age of seventeen. 
 He wrote much and well ; the efforts of his younger 
 years being thought the best. The latter portion of his 
 life he spent with his family in his picturesque cottage 
 
102 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 in his native town close to the edge of the water, by 
 which he delighted to sit and ponder and study. Here, 
 the "Bard of Lynn," as he was early called, died January 
 21, 1861, at the age of sixty-six. 
 
 In 1823 Mr. Lewis' poems were first published in a 
 volume; and in 1831 and 1834 appeared other vol- 
 umes. They went through fourteen editions. The last 
 one, which was edited by his son Ion Lewis, with por- 
 trait and biographical sketch, was published in 1883. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 I made me a little bark, 
 
 And trusted my all on board ; 
 And her sails were spread like the wings of the lark, 
 Though the storm was on, and the waves were dark, 
 
 And the winds and the waters roared. 
 
 But soon the sun looked from on high, 
 
 And stilled the stormy main ; 
 And before his face the clouds did fly, 
 Leaving behind a clear blue sky, 
 
 And the ocean smiled again. 
 
 And still my bark went o'er the seas, 
 
 With a soft and rippling tune, 
 Like the gentle boughs of the forest trees, 
 That meet and kiss when stirred by the breeze, 
 
 In the leafy month of June. 
 
FANNIE SMILE Y LO VEJO Y. 103 
 
 And on she went with a motion as free 
 
 As the soaring, still-winged dove, 
 And stooped her side to the wave as meek 
 As the virgin bride, when she leans her cheek 
 
 To the first warm kiss of love. 
 
 But the sun went down and the night was dark, 
 
 And the stormy wind was high, 
 And the ocean waves went over the bark, 
 That saw neither land nor beacon-mark, 
 
 Nor the star-beam in the sky. 
 
 When lo ! a bright and cheering ray 
 
 Shone over the tide afar, 
 And I beheld, while my heart was gay 
 With the hope that rose on my erring way, 
 
 The bright and the morning star. 
 
 FANNIE SMILEY LOVEJOY. 
 
 Mrs. Lovejoy was born in Sidney, Maine, November 
 29, 1833, and was daughter of Asa and Sarah (Norton) 
 Smiley. Her parents were intellectual people, and mem- 
 bers of the Society of Friends. She was an apt and dil- 
 igent scholar, and received her education in the common 
 schools and high school of her native place, and in pri- 
 vate schools. In 1 85 1 she married John Lovejoy of 
 West Newbury, Mass., where she has since resided. 
 She is now a widow, her husband having died a few 
 years ago. She began to compose poetry when quite 
 
104 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 young, and first published her efforts at the age of six- 
 teen. She has also written considerable prose. She has 
 contributed poems to the Boston Transcript^ Boston 
 Journal, Boston Home Journal, Our Little Ones, 
 Golden Days, Kennebec Journal, Gospel Banner, and 
 local newspapers. She has the gift of poetry, and a 
 love for the grand and true and beautiful in nature and 
 humanity. She has an even temperament, and an over- 
 flow of mirthfulness, being possessed of good conversa- 
 tional powers. In prose she likes that which expresses 
 the strongest, deepest and most original thought, and in 
 poetry, that which comes from the divine nature within 
 us, and which is so inspiring and helpful, forever lifting 
 our thoughts above the earthly, and toward God. 
 
 FOB ALL. 
 
 The sun sends its bright rays of gladness 
 
 Into the dreariest spot ; 
 It lifts us from care and from sadness, 
 
 It lightens the lowliest lot. 
 The stars shine out brightly above us 
 
 When shadows of evening fall : 
 O, think how our Father must love us, — 
 
 He gives his best unto all. 
 
 I climb the rough steeps of the mountain, 
 And look, from its lofty brow, 
 
 On the verdure and rippling fountain 
 And the bright flowers below j 
 
MA B THA PEBB Y LO WE. 1 05 
 
 I roam through the field and the forest, 
 
 In nature's cool, shady hall 
 I list to the sweet, feathered chorist 
 
 Warbling his tunes for us all. 
 
 I watch the grand waves of the ocean 
 
 Rolling and lashing the shore, 
 Chanting in its ceaseless commotion 
 
 The song of eternity's roar ; 
 And think its mysterious sounding, 
 
 And music of brooklets' fall, 
 The beauty so rich and abounding, 
 
 And grandeur sublime are for all. 
 
 The poor man is rich to inherit 
 
 A love for these things in his mind, 
 The rich man is poor if his spirit 
 
 To beauty and grandeur is blind ; 
 Come forth, child of care and of sadness, 
 
 Nor linger where dark shadows fall, 
 Earth's greenness and sunshine and gladness 
 
 And God's loving care are for all. 
 
 MARTHA PERRY LOWE. 
 
 Mrs. Martha Ann (Perry) Lowe was born in 
 Keene, N. H., November 21, 1829, and was daughter 
 of Justus and Hannah (Wood) Perry. Both of her pa- 
 rents died when she was thirteen years of age, and a 
 few years later a brother and a sister died. Soon after 
 these trials and sorrows, she went with her remaining 
 
106 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 brother and sister to the West Indies, where they passed 
 the winter together. Subsequently she went to Europe, 
 with her sister, and spent several months in Spain, where 
 her brother was serving as secretary of Legation. She 
 passed the winter of 1856-7 in Salem, Mass., with her 
 sister, the wife of Dr. Edward B. Peirson, and while there 
 became acquainted with Rev. Charles Lowe, pastor of 
 the North Church in that city, whom she married the 
 following autumn. Mr. Lowe had resigned his pastorate 
 in Salem two months prior to their marriage, but contin- 
 ued to reside there until 1859, when he was installed 
 over the Unitarian church in Somerville, whither they 
 removed. He resigned this pastorate six years later 
 on account of his failing health, and was then editor of 
 the Monthly Journal from 1865 to 1869. In 1871, 
 he went to Europe with his family, whence Mrs. Lowe 
 corresponded regularly for the Liberal Christian. They 
 returned home in 1873. He died a few years since, 
 and she has published his biography. She has since 
 resided in Somerville, being connected at the present 
 time with the Unitarian Review. Her poems are much 
 admired. 
 
 Mrs. Lowe has published two volumes of poetry, one, 
 entitled "The Olive and the Pine," in 1859 ; and the 
 other, "Love in Spain, and Other Poems," in 1867. 
 
 THE ORGAN PLAYER. 
 
 He sat there at the great old organ's side 
 In mastery complete, and slowly laid 
 
MAB THA PEBB Y LO WE. I o 7 
 
 His fingers on the silent keys, and felt 
 
 Them o'er with groping hands, as he were rapt 
 
 Within the mazes of a wandering dream. 
 
 But, lo ! the waking ! Suddenly uprose 
 
 A mighty tempest of great notes, that rolled 
 
 Through all the carved space, and shook it from 
 
 Its boundless marble plains away unto 
 
 The spangled grayness of its lofty dome ; 
 
 And trembled in the arches, fading off 
 
 Till where they caught the rosy bloom that streamed 
 
 From little windows set with precious stones, 
 
 That looked aslant the vastness, cutting through 
 
 With rainbow mists the silent clouds of dark. 
 
 He is undaunted 'mid the whirlwind of 
 
 High ecstasy and pain, and joy and grief, 
 
 Which he hath wakened ; for his soul is far 
 
 Ascending to the upper dome that rests 
 
 Its beams not underneath the stars and sky, 
 
 Like this fair atom in the eye of heaven. 
 
 He sees his bride, who walketh in the light 
 
 That plays immortal in her hazel eyes, 
 
 And broods around her hair at rest in folds 
 
 Of placid brownness on her mellow cheek. 
 
 She is not roving 'mong the glorified, 
 Forgetful of the restless hearts on earth : 
 She watches him below with earnest eyes, 
 And lays her ear unto the floor of heaven 
 To catch the earthly sounds that wander up. 
 
108 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 She follows close upon the organ's sweep 
 With voice of sweetness, full and deep and low- 
 He hears it, — 'mid the cooling shadow of 
 The great cathedral, hears it day and night, — 
 An undertone forever sounding clear 
 Throughout the torrent of his whelming chords. 
 Said he not, 'twere no mortal hands that ruled 
 The harmonies amid that solitude ? 
 And so he sitteth there at morn and even, 
 And fondly dreameth that sometime he may 
 Float hence upon the current of her voice 
 Unto the high concerto of the skies ! 
 
 CHARLES FLETCHER LUMMIS. 
 Mr. Lummis was born in Lynn, Mass., March i, 1859, 
 and was son of Prof. Henry and Harriet Waterman 
 (Fowler) Lummis. His mother died when he was but 
 two years old, and the family removed to and resided 
 in Tilton, N. H., for four years. He afterward lived in 
 Aubumdale, and Lynn, Mass., until 1877, when he en- 
 tered Harvard College. He lived in his native town 
 during his freshman year, when he became interested in 
 literature, and wrote a great number of verses for the 
 college press, and for the Boston, Lynn, St. Louis and 
 other papers. While in college he issued two tiny vol- 
 umes, entitled " Birch-Bark Poems." They were printed 
 on birch-bark gathered at the White Mountains, and the 
 entire work was done by the author. The two volumes 
 
CHABLES FLETCHER LUMMIS. 109 
 
 have had an aggregate sale of over fourteen thousand 
 copies. In 1882, he settled in Chillicothe, Ohio, the 
 residence of his wife's parents, and became editor of the 
 Scioto Gazette. While here he contributed regularly to 
 Life and The Judge, and occasionally to Puck, Texas 
 Si/tings, Detroit Free Press, and other humorous pa- 
 pers, and to Our Continent and the Atlantic Monthly, 
 In September, 1884, he started on a pedestrian tour 
 across the continent. The trip took one hundred and 
 forty-three days, in which he walked thirty-five hundred 
 and seven miles. Feb. 1, 1885, he arrived at Los An- 
 geles, Cal., where he has since resided. The story of his 
 numerous adventures will appear in book form. In 1886, 
 he was with General Crook, and later with General Miles 
 in the campaign against Geronimo. Ever since settling 
 in Los Angeles, he has been connected with the Daily 
 Times, of which he is one of the editors and owners. 
 
 SUNSET ON PROFILE LAKE. 
 
 The westward sun has left a wake of flame 
 Across the silent lake, upon whose breast 
 
 The stern, still face, by wrathful tempests scarred, 
 Looks down impassive from the cliffs that frame 
 The crystal waters as they lie at rest, 
 
 Secure and trustful in his sleepless guard. 
 
 The regal trout, bestarred with gold and red, 
 Shoots headlong high above his native tide 
 In pure excess of joy, to greet the sun 
 
no POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Ere yet he seeks his far Pacific bed ; 
 
 And from the copses on the mountain-side 
 The rabbit leaps, a living streak of dun. 
 
 Upon the Old Man's brow one lingering ray 
 Still clings caressingly, as if God's hand 
 In radiant benediction rested there ; 
 And on the breezes' eddying currents, day 
 Drifts out beyond the dim horizon strand, 
 And night swims softly down the purple air. 
 
 GEORGE LUNT. 
 
 Mr. Lunt was born in Newburyport, Mass., Decem- 
 ber 31, 1803, and was son of Abel and Phebe (Tilton) 
 Lunt. He graduated at Harvard College in 1824, and 
 after studying law was admitted to the Essex bar in 
 1 83 1. He opened an office in his native town, where 
 he practised but a few years. He was for a considera- 
 ble period principal of the Newburyport high school ; 
 and served several years in both branches of the state 
 legislature. He removed to Boston in 1848, and the 
 next year was appointed by President Taylor United 
 States attorney for Massachusetts. He resigned when 
 the administration was changed, and returned to his 
 practice and the literary work for which he was already 
 famous. He had begun to write and publish poetry at 
 an early age. From 185 7 to 1862 he was editor of the 
 Boston Daily Courier, the leading democratic paper of 
 
GEOBGE LUNT. in 
 
 Boston at that time. Upon his retirement from journal- 
 ism he removed to Scituate, and devoted the remainder 
 of his life to literary pursuits. Being in feeble health, 
 he did comparatively little work beyond occasional con- 
 tributions, mostly political, to the papers. He was 
 deeply interested in the welfare of the public, and had 
 a wide circle of warm friends. He died in Boston, after 
 an illness of short duration, May 16, 1885, at the age of 
 eighty-one. 
 
 Beside several volumes of prose, Mr. Lunt published 
 many poems. His first book was "The Grave of Byron, 
 with other Poems," 1826. His first volume of collected 
 poems appeared in 1839. Then followed "The Age of 
 Gold," 1843, one of his best efforts; "Culture," 1843 ; 
 "The Dove and the Eagle," 185 1 ; "Lyric Poems, Son- 
 nets and Miscellanies," 1854; " Eastford, or House- 
 hold Sketches, by Wesley Brooke," 1854; "Julia," 
 1855 ; "The Union," i860; and "Poems," 1884. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Supposed to have been sung by a chorus of youths 
 and maidens at the funeral of byron in greece. 
 
 O virgin daughters of the budding isles . 
 
 Which crowning purple o'er the deep ^Egean, 
 Whose folded foliage met those first-born smiles 
 
 Which made groves, streams, and rocks, sing Io 
 Paean ! 
 
112 POETS OF ESSEX COUXTY. 
 
 Wail, island daughter, him whose day is done, 
 And tear the ivy-garland from your head — 
 
 Apollo's latest, brightest son 
 Is with the mighty dead ! 
 
 Far-darter of the never-failing bow ! 
 
 Healer of nations ! where was then thy power ? 
 Earth called for thee, and why wert thou so slow? 
 
 Or, couldst thou not avert the hour? 
 Come, father of the morning, come and shake 
 
 Adovvn thy flowing ringlets' golden store — 
 But he whom thou didst love to wake 
 
 Shall see thy face no more ! 
 
 The time of early bloom shall come, and spring 
 
 Anew shall pour her honeydew-fed flowers, 
 And oft again the vintage months shall bring 
 
 Their purple gifts ; but vernal showers, 
 Nor summer airs, nor vintage suns shall hail 
 
 His unreturning footstep — for the brave, 
 The young, the noble whom we wail, 
 
 Is wedded to the grave. 
 
 Freedom ! so richly bought, thou shouldst be sweet 
 
 Yet would that he, thy victim, had but died 
 Floating down battle's crimson flood to meet 
 
 Red from thy strife the Stygian tide : 
 How gladly, then, in glory's flowers we'd sheathe 
 
 His sword, and round his consecrated brow 
 We'd mingle with the poet's wreath 
 
 One deathless laurel bough ! 
 
GEOBGE LTJXT. 113 
 
 Sons of the Greeks ! 'mid the tumultuous flame 
 
 Of the fierce shock ye shall remember well 
 Who gave his life, his fortune and his fame, 
 
 Yea, his whole hope, to break the accursed spell 
 Which ye must end ; but o'er his silent bier, 
 
 Till ancient freedom smiling hovers nigh, 
 Ye may not waste another tear, 
 
 Or one lamenting sigh. 
 
 What though his life was brief ! his young career 
 
 Was run in glory — happy that his last 
 Act was the best and noblest ; time may sear 
 
 And blight the nations with his withering blast, 
 But has no power to rend his monument 
 
 From out the hearts of men ; perchance still more 
 Happy, that he so early went 
 
 Down to the gloomy shore. 
 
 But year by year shall Grecian girls renew, 
 
 When spring returns, the story of his woes, 
 And gather memory's sweetest flowers to strew, 
 
 Violets and lilies and the pale primrose, 
 For him who slumbers in the orange vale ; 
 
 And often shall zEtolian sires relate, 
 Weeping, his melancholy tale — 
 
 Their poet-hero's fate ! 
 —1824. 
 
 Note. Lord Byron went to Greece to assist, by the inspi- 
 ration of his presence and his song, in securing its freedom in 
 the war with Turkey. He died there in 1824, at the age of 
 thirty-six. He was greatly mourned by the Greeks. 
 
 8 
 
114 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 CAROLINE ATHERTON MASON. 
 
 Mrs. Mason was born in Marblehead, Mass., July 
 27, 1823, and was daughter of Dr. Calvin and Rebecca 
 (Monroe) Briggs. She was educated at Bradford Acad- 
 emy. She began to write poetry in her teens, and her 
 first verses appeared in the Sa/em Register over the 
 signature of " Caro. " She afterward wrote for the 
 Anti-Slavery Standard, Commonwealth, The Liberal 
 Christian, and National Era, and later for the Congre- 
 gationalism Independent, and Christian Union, and for 
 The Century, Monthly Religious Magazine, Scribner's, 
 Lippincotfs, St. Nicholas, and other magazines. She is 
 widely known as the author of "Do They Miss Me at 
 Home ?" written while a homesick school-girl, and which 
 was sung by the soldiers at the front throughout the Re- 
 bellion. Some of her other songs have been set to mu- 
 sic both in this country and in England. She wrote for 
 the Hutchinsons "The Triple- Hued Banner," which 
 they set to music and sang in their concerts throughout 
 the North during the war. Her poetry is imbued 
 with the spirit of the period in which she wrote most. 
 In 1852 the family removed to Fitchburg, and she 
 soon afterward married Charles Mason, Esq., a lawyer 
 of that city, where they have a pleasant home on the 
 side of the famous and picturesque Rollstone Moun- 
 tain. 
 
 Beside a small prose volume, entitled " Rose Hamil- 
 ton," which was issued by the Massachusetts Sunday- 
 School Society, she published, in 1852, a volume of 
 
CAB OLINE A THEB TON 3IAS0N. 1 1 5 
 
 poems, entitled, "Utterance, or Private Voices to the 
 Public Heart, a collection of Home Poems," which she 
 dedicated to her parents. 
 
 WAKING. 
 I have done at length with dreaming ; 
 
 Henceforth, O thou soul of mine, 
 Thou must take up sword and buckler, 
 
 Waging warfare most divine. 
 
 Life is struggle, combat, victory : 
 Wherefore have I slumbered on 
 
 With my forces all unmarshalled, 
 With my weapons all undrawn ? 
 
 Oh, how many a glorious record 
 
 Had the angels of me kept 
 Had I done instead of doubted, 
 
 Had I warred instead of wept ! 
 
 But begone regret, bewailing ! 
 
 Ye but weaken like the rest : 
 I have tried the trusty weapons 
 
 Rusting erst within my breast : 
 
 I have wakened to my duty, 
 To a knowledge large and deep 
 
 That I recked not of aforetime, 
 In my long, inglorious sleep. 
 
n6 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 In this subtle sense of being 
 Newly stirred in every vein, 
 
 I can feel a throb electric,— 
 Pleasure half allied to pain. 
 
 'Tis so sweet and yet so awful, 
 So bewildering, yet brave, 
 
 To be king in every conflict 
 
 Where before I crouched a slave ! 
 
 Tis so glorious to be conscious 
 Of a growing power within 
 
 Stronger than the rallying forces 
 Of a charged and marshalled sin ! 
 
 Never in those old romances 
 Felt I half the thrill of life 
 
 That I feel within me stirring, 
 Standing in this place of strife. 
 
 Oh those olden days of dalliance 
 When I wantoned with my fate ! 
 
 When I trifled with a knowledge 
 That had well nigh come too late ! 
 
 Yet, my soul, look not behind thee ; 
 
 Thou hast work to do at last : 
 Let the brave deeds of the present 
 
 Overarch the crumbled past. 
 
 Build thy great aims high and higher ; 
 Build them on the conquered sod 
 
S USAN WHITTEMOBE MO UL TOX. 1 1 7 
 
 Where thy weakness first fell bleeding 
 And thy first prayer rose to God. 
 — 1852. 
 
 SUSAN WHITTEMORE MOULTON. 
 Miss Moulton was born in Newbury, Mass., in that 
 portion which is now a part of the city of Newburyport, 
 June 21, 1856, and was daughter of Hon. Henry Wil- 
 liam and Susan Floyd (Whittemore) Moulton. She at- 
 tended the common schools and the Putnam Free 
 School, supplementing her school education by several 
 years' private study of English literature, of which she 
 was excessively fond from childhood. She early wrote 
 short stories for newspapers and magazines, her first pub- 
 lished story being sent to the Youth's Coi?ipanion, at the 
 age of seventeen. She also sent, from time to time, con- 
 tributions of poetry, which were well received. At the 
 age of twenty-two, she wrote the story, entitled " Hill 
 Rest, " which had a large circulation. She recently 
 spent nearly three years in the South, where she gath- 
 ered further materials for literary work. She had a slight 
 figure and was of medium height, with dark hair and 
 eyes ; in conversation she was full of vivacity and intel- 
 ligence, and very entertaining. Her home was "Moulton 
 Castle, " in Newburyport, on the banks of the Merri- 
 mac, the magnificent structure having been erected by 
 her father about 1861. The views from its towers might 
 well inspire the most prosaic to the writing of poetic 
 measure. It was here that Sir Edward Thornton spent 
 
1 1 8 TOE TS OF ESSEX CO UNTY. 
 
 four of the most delightful summers of his life, with the 
 British Legation, as a lessee of the estate during the ab- 
 sence of the proprietor who held a government office 
 in the war. After a decline of about a year, Miss Moul- 
 ton died, at her home, February 19, 1889, at the age 
 of thirty-two. 
 
 WILD FLO WEBS. 
 In stately splendor the singer stood, 
 With the queenly grace of womanhood ; 
 With higher power than a queen may know, 
 And greater gifts than a queen may show. 
 Heavy and hushed grows the waiting air ; 
 And a sea of faces, dark and fair, 
 Eagerly lift in the swaying throng, 
 Waiting the wonderful voice of song. 
 
 It comes, and the listeners bend to hear 
 The soaring melody, grand and clear ; 
 Till the hour and place and circumstance 
 Are lost in music's mystical trance. 
 Breathless the pause and the trembling hush ; 
 Then, onward and out, with a mighty rush, 
 Thunders the voice of the raptured throng, 
 Thrilled and enchained by the power of song ! 
 
 Like incense wafted from isles of bloom, 
 Floateth the subtle and rare perfume 
 Of the royal flowers dropped at her feet, — 
 Tribute of homage and beauty sweet. 
 
S USAN WHITTE3I0BE MO UL TON. 1 1 9 
 
 Over the singer's face there came 
 A swift, bright flush, like a rosy flame ; 
 A smile that gleamed like a glint of dawn, 
 That riseth over the gates of morn. 
 
 Nor triumph nor homage woke that smile, — 
 Only some flowers from the fragrant pile, 
 Culled in the dew by a childish hand, 
 And bashfully flung to the singer grand, — 
 Only the wildwood flowers that grow 
 In the sunny glades and valleys low ; 
 Where winds are sweetest, and skies are bright, 
 And brooklets dance in the golden light. 
 
 Higher and higher swells the acclaim ; 
 Tumultuous voices call her name. 
 Silently yet doth the singer stand, 
 With only the wild-flowers in her hand. 
 All unheeded the tribute of cheers, — 
 Other and distant music she hears ; 
 The singing streams of her native hills, 
 The pine tree's whisper, and voice of rills. 
 
 She sees in fancy the village sward 
 Beyond the meadow, all daisy-starred ; 
 The laughing brook where the children played, 
 And the dainty harebells lightly swayed. 
 She dreams once more in her rocking boat, 
 Where the cool white lilies idly float ; 
 And the locust blossoms dropping glide 
 With the summer light on the drifting tide. 
 
120 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 And a sudden smile of rarest grace 
 Swept swiftly over the singer's face ; 
 With the raptured gaze of one who sees 
 The fai-off fortunate Isles of Peace. 
 Once more the listening throng is mute, 
 And, sweeter than voice of harp and lute, 
 Through aisle and nave to the great arched dome 
 Ring the magic notes of "Home, sweet home !" 
 
 Then the great throng trembled, pulses throbbed, 
 The voices of careworn worldlings sobbed ; 
 While prisoned hearts found sweet release 
 In visions of childhood's home and peace. 
 And blessings of love and pure content 
 The humble breath of the wild-flowers sent. 
 
 JOHN PATCH. 
 
 Mr. Patch was born in Ipswich, Mass., August 23, 
 1807, and was son of John and Judith (Corning) Patch. 
 He attended Dummer Academy and Phillips Academy, 
 and graduated at Bowdoin College in 1831, being a 
 classmate of the poet Longfellow. He afterward stud- 
 ied Greek and German at Harvard University, subse- 
 quently entering the law school, where he graduated in 
 the class with Wendell Phillips and Charles Sumner. 
 He was admitted to the Suffolk bar in 1835, having 
 been for a while in the office of Hon. Theophilus Par- 
 sons, in Boston. He immediately opened an office in 
 that city, afterward removing to Nantucket, and later 
 
JOHN PATCH. 121 
 
 to Beverly. In 1847, ne resumed his practice in Bos- 
 ton, and the same year became editor of the Literary 
 Museum. In 1849, ne went to California as attorney 
 for a Boston company, and, becoming enamored with 
 the climate and magnificent scenery there, took up 
 his abode at San Francisco, where he practised law with 
 fair success until 1853, when he returned to his native 
 town. Before the close of that year his health failed 
 and he again went to California, where he remained 
 until 1856, when he returned to Ipswich to care for his 
 father in his declining years, residing on his father's 
 farm during the remainder of his life. He was passion- 
 ately fond of nature ; and his poetry was similar to 
 Wordsworth's. He was an intelligent writer, a Unita- 
 rian in his religious belief, and somewhat eccentric in 
 his habits. He died at his home in Ipswich, after a 
 long illness, September n, 1887, at the age of eighty. 
 
 In 1 84 1, Mr. Patch published a volume of poetry, 
 entitled u The Poet's Offering," which ran through two 
 editions. 
 
 LAB OB. 
 Scorn thou not the hands of labor, 
 
 Brawny arms have golden hearts ; 
 Labor wins the prize of beauty, 
 
 Labor health and strength imparts. 
 
 Labor is the key that opens 
 Avenues to wealth and fame ; 
 
122 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Labor need not blush, though lowly, 
 For to labor brings not shame. 
 
 Labqr builds the peasant's cottage ; 
 
 Labor rears the palace gate ; 
 Labor makes the rich more noble, 
 
 And the noble ones more great. 
 
 Work, and thou shalt be a brother 
 
 Of the only royal line ; 
 Work, and thou shalt clothe another, 
 
 Labor makes the soul to shine. 
 
 Laborare est orare — 
 
 So the ancient monk declares ; 
 Laborare est orare 
 
 Echoes from the silent stars. 
 
 Industry is life and worship, 
 
 Idleness is guilt and sin ; 
 Work, and thou shalt feel the presence 
 
 Of the present God within. 
 
 Labor is the throne of genius, 
 
 Holiest of holy things ; 
 Greatest profit, greatest blessing, 
 
 Labor to the laborer brings. 
 
 Ye whom, born to wealth and titles, 
 Sloth and luxury enthrall ; 
 
JAMES CHUTE PEABODY. 123 
 
 Labor and ye shall inherit 
 
 Blessings that surpass them all. 
 —1847- 
 
 JAMES CHUTE PEABODY. 
 Mr. Peabody was born in Georgetown, then a part of 
 the town of Rowley, Mass., February 20, 1828, and was 
 son of James and Hannah(Chute) Peabody. He spent 
 his boyhood days at his birthplace/and attended the dis- 
 trict school and Dummer Academy. He studied law 
 in the Harvard law school, and was admitted to the 
 Suffolk bar. He opened an office, and after a few years' 
 practice, concluded to enter journalism, relinquishing 
 his legal profession for which he had displayed consider- 
 able talent. He at first went abroad as a newspaper 
 correspondent. On his return he continued his connec- 
 tion with the press, soon afterward becoming the editor 
 of the Newburyport Watchtower, and subsequently was 
 employed in the same capacity on the Newburyport 
 Weekly Union. For several years past he has edited 
 the Neiuburyport Daily Germ. He is also a contribu- 
 tor to other newspapers, and has written both prose and 
 poetry for Harper's, and other magazines. He has 
 made quite a number of poetical translations from Ger- 
 man authors ; and has published a translation of Dante's 
 "Inferno." He is a ready, brilliant and interesting writer, 
 and a natural journalist. His poetry is considered ex- 
 ceptionally good. He still resides in the house in which 
 he was born in the ancient parish of By field. 
 
124 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Mr. Peabody published a volume of his poems, with 
 the title of " Key-Notes," in 1864. 
 
 THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. 
 
 Once more old Time unbars the silent tomb, 
 In the past land, where his dead years are lying 
 
 All side by side, amid the eternal gloom ; 
 
 For now his last-born in the night is dying. ■ 
 
 He bids adieu the solemn, dark-robed hours 
 That one by one glide by his snowy bed ; 
 
 And now the great bells from a thousand towers 
 Toll their sad requiem, for the year is dead. 
 
 But lo, a new-born cherub, hovering near, 
 
 Whose wings shall sweep the starry circle through ! 
 
 For the death struggles of the passing year 
 Were still the birth pangs of the coming new. 
 
 Now Janus wears a smiling face before, 
 Yet backward looks a sad, a long adieu ; 
 
 From the same fountain doth Aquarius pour 
 Tears for the old, libations to the new. 
 
 Time buries his dead, and from the tomb comes forth, 
 Rolls to the stone, and writes above the door 
 
 Another epitaph, that all the earth 
 
 May read and ponder through the evermore. 
 
JA3IES CHUTE PEABODY. 125 
 
 ■ 
 
 i 
 
 There is the story of the bygone years, 
 
 Their joys and sorrows, and their love and hate ; 
 
 And there the lachrymals of bitter tears 
 Stand full, forever, by the frowning gate. 
 
 There hang the scutcheons of departed nations ; 
 
 There glows the red page of their growth and strife, 
 There lie the ashes of the dead creations ; 
 
 A world or creed, a god or mortal life. 
 
 And all the legends on those stony pages 
 Shall grow to oracles in coming days, 
 
 And unborn minstrels, in the unborn ages, 
 Shall give them voice in many sounding lays. 
 
 Then blot, O Time, the olden error still, — 
 
 All jarring discords from their strains to sever, — 
 
 What I have written, be it good or ill, 
 
 That I have written, and it stands forever. 
 
 There is no resurrection of the past ; 
 
 Its shade may haunt thee, but it lives no more. 
 Yet mourn it not. Behold, the future vast, 
 
 The eternal future, stretches on before ! 
 
 Take, then, the book of fate into thy hand, 
 And for the new year write thine own decree ; 
 
 And what thou writest shall forever stand, 
 And what thou wiliest that the end shall be. 
 
126 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 HENRY PICKERING. 
 Mr. Pickering was born in Newburgh, N. Y., Octo- 
 ber 8, 1 781, and was son of Col. Timothy and Rebecca 
 (White) Pickering. Having a strong desire for city life, 
 his father placed him in a merchant's counting-room in 
 Philadelphia. The position suited his refined mind and 
 manners, and he was happily pursuing his wonted course, 
 when, in his nineteenth year, his father having gone into 
 the wilderness to rear a home, Henry quitted his. loved 
 employment and joined him. He never married but 
 consecrated, as it were, his life and service to his father's 
 household. His reverent affection and tender care for 
 his mother were remarkable from childhood. He came 
 to Salem, Mass., and made some adventures in trade, 
 becoming an importer to a considerable amount on 
 his own capital. By his superior business ability, he 
 acquired a large estate. After some years he lost his 
 property, and again entered into business, this time in 
 New York City, where he died, while on a business trip, 
 after a short illness, May 9, 1838, at the age of fifty-six. 
 His mind was highly cultivated by study and foreign 
 travel, and by his association with the best society. His 
 temperament and his mental habits were highly poetic, 
 and his writings were various and spontaneous, being 
 suggested by the contemplation of works of art, and 
 scenes of nature that deeply impressed his imaginative 
 and sensitive spirit. He was genial and cheerful, and 
 fond of young people. 
 
 
HENB Y PICKEBING. 1 2 7 
 
 Mr. Pickering published " The Ruins of Paestum, and 
 Other Compositions in Verse," in 1822 ; "Athens, and 
 Other Poems," in 1824 ; and " Poems, by an American,'* 
 in 1830. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 Light breaks upon the hills ! while through the air 
 
 The spirit of the gale his joyous way 
 
 Wings o'er the land and waters, prompt to pay 
 To him obeisance. The green woods, where'er 
 He wends, wave gracefully their tops — nor dare 
 
 The flowers withhold their perfume — nor delay 
 
 The silver-flowing streams, that sparkling play 
 Along his course, his presence to declare. 
 But lo ! a visible and mightier power 
 
 Advances in the east, and to a blaze 
 Kindling the heavens, now rules the fervent hour — 
 
 Earth gladlier smiles in her benignant rays, — 
 While from the hills, the vales, from every bower, 
 
 Ascends the universal hymn of joy and praise ! 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 Wrapped in its broad dark mantle, the dense grove 
 Sleeps in the mountain's shadow ; not a breeze 
 Plays with the lightest leaf upon the trees, 
 
 Or dances on the wave : nor from above 
 
 Is longer heard the choral song of love, 
 
 Poured from innumerous little throats to please 
 The attentive ear. Each sound, by soft degrees, 
 
128 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 With the low cooings of the woodland dove 
 In silence melts ; while sinking to repose, 
 
 Nature itself is soothed. One last warm gleam 
 Tinges the distant peaks with blush of rose, — 
 
 And like the magic influence of a dream 
 Comes o'er the soul — awakening visions there 
 As beautiful as melancholy fair ! 
 
 JOHN PIERPONT. 
 
 Mr. Pierpont was born in Litchfield, Conn., April 6, 
 1785, and was son of James and Elizabeth (Collins) 
 Pierpont. Graduating at Yale College in 1804, he taught 
 for five years, then studied law, and was admitted to the 
 bar of Essex county, Mass., in 1812. He practised in 
 Newburyport until his health failed, when he became a 
 merchant in Boston, and afterward in Baltimore, where 
 his business resulted disastrously. He then studied the- 
 ology, was ordained a Unitarian clergyman, and was pas- 
 tor of the Hollis street church in Boston from 18 19 to 
 1845, °f a church in Troy, N. Y., from 1849 to 1853, 
 and of another in Medford, Mass., from 1854 to 1856. 
 He powerfully advocated the temperance and anti- 
 slavery causes, and served as chaplain in the army. 
 He published several school readers and many sermons. 
 He loved nature, cared little for popularity, and lived 
 for the truth. He had true genius as a poet, and, says 
 Bungay, "his 'Airs of Palestine/ for sublimity of thought, 
 beauty of expression, and graceful versification, is un- 
 
JOHN PIER PONT. 129 
 
 excelled by any American production." He was the 
 favorite reform poet of his time in America, among the 
 educated, and probably no other man received so many 
 invitations to read poetry before lyceums as he. Dur- 
 ing his latter years, he was still erect in figure, with snow- 
 white hair, brilliant, blue eyes, an intellectual forehead, 
 and with a rosy glow of health upon his face. As a 
 speaker he was interesting and eloquent. He died in 
 Medford August 27, 1866, at the age of eighty- one. 
 
 Mr. Pierpont published his " Airs of Palestine " in 
 181 6, and his "Airs of Palestine, and Other Poems," in 
 1840. 
 
 THE PILGBIM FATHERS. 
 
 The Pilgrim fathers, — where are they? 
 
 The waves that brought them o'er 
 Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray 
 
 As they break along the shore ; 
 Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day 
 
 When the Mayflower moored below, 
 When the sea around was black with storms, 
 
 And white the shore with snow. 
 
 The mists that wrapped the Pilgrim's sleep 
 
 Still brood upon the tide ; 
 And the rocks yet keep their watch by the deep 
 
 To stay its waves of pride. 
 But the snow-white sail that he gave to the gale, 
 
 When the heavens looked dark, is gone, — 
 
 9 
 
130 POETS OF ESSEX COUXTY. 
 
 As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, 
 Is seen, and then withdrawn. 
 
 The Pilgrim exile, — sainted name ! 
 
 The hill whose icy brow 
 Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, 
 
 In the morning's flame burns now. 
 And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night 
 
 On the hillside and the sea, 
 Still lies where he laid his houseless head, — . 
 
 But the Pilgrim ! where is he ? 
 
 The Pilgrim fathers are at rest : 
 
 When summer's throned on high, 
 And the world's warm breast is in verdure drest, 
 
 Go stand on the hill where they lie. 
 The earliest ray of the golden day 
 
 On that hallowed spot is cast ; 
 And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, 
 
 Looks kindly on that spot last. 
 
 The Pilgrim spirit has not fled : 
 
 It walks in noon's broad light ; 
 And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 
 
 With the holy stars by night. 
 It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 
 
 And shall guard this ice-bound shore, 
 Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay, 
 
 Shall foam and freeze no more. 
 
ALBEBT PIKE. 131 
 
 ALBERT PIKE. 
 
 Mr. Pike was born in Boston, Mass., December 29, 
 1809, and was son of Benjamin and Sarah (Andrews) 
 Pike. His father, who was a shoemaker, removed his 
 family to Newburyport in 1814. Albert studied for a 
 time at Harvard College, afterward taught school in 
 Newburyport and Fairhaven, and in 1831 went to St. 
 Louis, walking much of the way. He joined an expe- 
 dition to New Mexico, and became' a peddler in Santa 
 Fe. The next year he accompanied some trappers, 
 from whom he separated, and walked five hundred 
 miles, reaching Fort Smith, Ark., a stranger without 
 clothing or money. He contributed poetry to the Ar- 
 kansas Advocate, which he afterward edited and owned 
 until 1836, when he was admitted to the bar, to which 
 he devoted himself until 1880. Since that time he has 
 been reading and studying, and attending to his duties as 
 grand-commander of the Masonic order of the South. 
 He has written for periodicals, published legal works 
 and romances, and is entitled to take his place in the 
 highest order of American poets. He resided at Little 
 Rock, Ark., from 1833 to 1865, then at Memphis, Tenn., 
 for three years, and since that time at Washington, 
 D. C, which is his present home. While living at Mem- 
 phis, he edited the Memphis Appeal. He commanded, 
 with distinction, a company of Arkansas Cavalry in the 
 Mexican War ; was also a prominent state- rights advo- 
 cate, and led a body of Cherokee Indians in the Rebel- 
 lion, sharing with them the confederates' defeat in the 
 battle of Pea Ridge. 
 
13 2 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Gen. Pike published "Prose Sketches and Poems" in 
 1834 ; "Hymns to the Gods" in 1839 \ an d a collection 
 of his poems, under the title of "Nugae," was printed in 
 1854. 
 
 EVERY YEAR. 
 Life is a count of losses, 
 
 Every year ; 
 For the weak are heavier crosses, 
 
 Every year ; 
 Lost springs with sobs replying 
 Unto weary autumns' sighing, 
 While those we love are dying, 
 
 Every year. 
 
 The days have less of gladness, 
 
 Every year ; 
 The nights more weight of sadness, 
 
 Every year ; 
 Fair springs no longer charm us, 
 The winds and weather harm us, 
 The threats of death alarm us, 
 
 Every year. 
 
 There come new cares and sorrows, 
 
 Every year ; 
 Dark days and darker morrows, 
 
 Every year ; 
 The ghosts of dead loves haunt us, 
 The ghosts of changed friends taunt us, 
 And disappointments daunt us, 
 
 Every year. 
 
 / 
 
ALBERT PIKE. 133 
 
 To the past go more dead faces, 
 
 Every year ; 
 As the loved leave vacant places, 
 
 Every year ; 
 Everywhere the sad eyes meet us, 
 In the evening's dusk they greet us, 
 And to come to them entreat us, 
 
 Every year. 
 
 "You are growing old," they tell us, 
 
 "Every year ; 
 "You are more alone," they tell us, 
 
 "Every year ; 
 "You can win no new affection, 
 You have only recollection, 
 Deeper sorrow and dejection, 
 
 Every year." 
 
 Too true ! — Life's shores are shifting, 
 
 Every year ; 
 And we are seaward drifting, 
 
 Every year ; 
 Old places, changing, fret us, 
 The living more forget us, 
 There are fewer to regret us, 
 
 Every year. 
 
 But the truer life draws nigher, 
 
 Every year ; 
 And its morning-star climbs higher, 
 
 Every year ; 
 
134 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Earth's hold on us grows slighter, 
 And the heavy burthen lighter, 
 And the dawn immortal brighter, 
 Every year. 
 
 ■ MARY NEWMARCH PRESCOTT. 
 
 Miss Prescott was a native of Calais, Maine, a 
 daughter of Joseph Newmarch and Sarah (Bridges) 
 Prescott, and a sister of Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spof- 
 ford, the popular authoress. She entered Pinkerton 
 Academy in Deny, N. H., at an early age, and after- 
 ward attended school for a short time in Newburyport, 
 Mass., whither her parents had removed, but her edu- 
 cation was chiefly under the superintendence of her 
 oldest sister. She was still quite young when her first 
 sketch, a short story, appeared in Harper's Magazine. 
 To Our Young Folks, Harper's Magazine, Merry's 
 Museum, and Oliver Optic's Magazine she afterward 
 contributed a number of stories, whose wit, scenic de- 
 scription, and character delineation, won for them a wide 
 popularity. She was very successful, also, in writing 
 for children ; and a volume of her juvenile stories was 
 published under the title of " Matt's Follies." Her 
 verses were, however, the chief expression of her genius, 
 and in them her love of nature and power for pathos 
 had freer play than in other work. In person she was 
 tall and slight, blue-eyed, and very fair, her face being 
 distinguished by an exquisite profile. In social life her 
 
IIIBA3I B1CH. 135 
 
 brilliancy and modesty, her readiness and her drollery, 
 gave her an irresistible charm. Her exceedingly deli- 
 cate health, which had perhaps prevented the full de- 
 velopment of powers that were scarcely surpassed by 
 any of our song writers, culminated shortly after a year 
 of European travel in the brief illness of a swift decline, 
 and she died, in her prime, June 14, 1888, at the home 
 of her brother-in-law, Hon. Richard S Spofford, on 
 Deer Island, Amesbury, Mass. 
 
 ASLEEP. 
 Sound asleep, — no sigh can reach 
 
 Him who dreams the heavenly dream, 
 No to-morrow's silver speech 
 
 Wake him with an earthly theme. 
 Summer rains relentlessly 
 Patter where his head doth lie, 
 There the wild fern and the brake 
 All their summer leisure take, 
 Violets blinded with the dew 
 Perfume lend to the sad rue, 
 Till the day breaks fair and clear 
 And no shadow doth appear. 
 
 HIRAM RICH. 
 Mr. Rich was born in Gloucester, Mass., October 
 28, 1832, and was son of Stephen and Nancy (Adams) 
 Rich. He was educated in the private and public 
 
136 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 schools of his native town, and by the sea-life round 
 about him. With the exception of a few years' resi- 
 dence in Boston and New York City, his life has been 
 spent in his native place. In 185 7 he entered the bank 
 of Cape Ann as teller, and in 1865 was appointed cash- 
 ier of the Cape Ann National Bank, a position which 
 he still holds. He now resides in Gloucester, and de- 
 votes himself principally to his bank duties. He is quite 
 well known as a writer of much ability, especially of 
 poetry. He has written more than a score of years for 
 the Atlantic Monthly, and has also been a contributor 
 to Scribner's Magazine, The Independent, Old and 
 New, Lippincotf s Magazine, and other periodicals. His 
 writings are always imbued with the spirit of true poetry. 
 The sky and sea have been a principal inspiration in his 
 efforts, and the foundation of some of his best produc- 
 tions. They are always ready subjects, as his beautiful 
 poem entitled " Before and After" testifies : — 
 
 1 ' Over the blue of the river, 
 Over the barren bay, 
 Over the empty islands 
 Cloudland reaches away. 
 
 " Cloudland, mutable cloudland, 
 Lying so far and low, 
 Over to thee by daylight 
 My feet unguided go." 
 
 COAST-WISE. 
 
 Running the chances of shoal and of syren, 
 
 Glare o' the city and glimmer of town, 
 
EPES SARGENT. 137 
 
 Mariners we with our hearts in the offing 
 Sailing the bay up and sailing it down. 
 Coast-wise and coast-wise, the harbor-lights greet 
 Down o' the thistle and glimpses of wheat. 
 
 Mariners gray in the service of traffic, 
 
 Often to venture and rarely to win ; 
 Ever instead of the coveted sea-room 
 
 Something to weather the tide setting in. 
 Coast-wise and coast-wise, the luck o' the lee, 
 And the breath o' the woodland ; but servitors we. 
 
 Not for our keel are the seas we would enter ; 
 
 Not for our deck their illumining spray ; 
 Not for our sails are the touch o' their sunsets. 
 
 Oh ! for our shallops the wings o' the day ! 
 Coast- wise and coast- wise, the beacon lights clear, 
 Only to sail the same provinces near ! 
 
 Nightly in dreams do the syrens delude us, 
 Blowing us winds that by day-light are gone ; 
 
 Ever away in the offing are looming, 
 Continents pink with continual dawn. 
 
 Coast-wise and coast-wise, the inlets of song 
 
 And the seas, to the singers to whom they belong. 
 
 EPES SARGENT. 
 Mr. Sargent was born in Gloucester, Mass., Sep- 
 tember 27, 1 813, and was son of Capt. Epes and Han- 
 nah Dane (Coffin) Sargent. While a school-boy in 
 
1 3 S POETS OF ESSEX CO UNTY. 
 
 Boston, his father took him on a trip to Europe. He 
 was educated at the Boston Latin School and Harvard 
 College. He passed an industrious literary life in New 
 York and Boston, having commenced with his school- 
 boy effusions in The Literary Journal and The Col- 
 legian. He afterward contributed frequently to The 
 Knickerbocker, Atlantic Monthly, New World, and 
 other periodicals. He was editor of, or editorially 
 connected with, The Token, Parley's Magazine, The 
 New England Magazine, Boston Advertiser, Boston 
 Atlas, New York Mirror, New Monthly Magazine, 
 School Monthly, and Boston Transcript, respectively, 
 and also edited several volumes. He prepared a series 
 of popular school books, including speakers and read- 
 ers, and wrote tales, dramas, biographies, and novels. 
 "Planchette," his famous work on Spiritualism, of which 
 he was one of the best exponents and stanch supporters, 
 appeared in 1869. He wrote of the sea with true 
 poetic and graphic power, and many of his ocean mel- 
 odies are unexcelled by the efforts of others of a higher 
 reputation. He was also known as a lecturer. He died 
 in Boston December 30, 1880, at the age of sixty-seven. 
 Mr. Sargent published several volumes of verse, as 
 follows : "Songs of the Sea, and Other Poems," in 1847 ; 
 "Poems," in 1858; and "The Woman who Dared," in 
 1869. 
 
 WOOD HULL. 
 'Twas when Long Island's heights beheld 
 The king's invading horde, 
 
EPES SARGENT. 139 
 
 That, by outnumbering foes compelled, 
 Our chief gave up his sword. 
 
 Then spoke the victor : "Now from me 
 
 No mercy shall you wring, 
 Unless, base rebel, on your knee, 
 
 You cry, 'God save the king !' " 
 
 With reverent but undaunted tone, 
 
 Then Woodhull made reply, — 
 "No king I own, save one alone, 
 
 The Lord of earth and sky 1 
 
 "But far from me the wish that ill 
 
 Your monarch should befall ; 
 So freely, and with right good will, 
 
 I'll say, God save us all r" 
 
 Shouted the foeman, "Pakering slave I 
 
 Repeat, without delay, 
 'God save the king,' nor longer brave 
 
 The fury that can slay 1" 
 
 But Woodhull said, "Unarmed, I hear ; 
 
 Yet threats cannot appal ; 
 Ne'er passed these lips the breath of fear, 
 
 And so, God save us all I" 
 
 "Then, rebel, rue thy stubborn will," 
 
 The ruffian victor cried ; 
 "This weapon shall my threat fulfil ; 
 
 So perish in thy pride I" 
 
140 POET 8 OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Rapid as thought, the murderous blow 
 Fell on the prisoner's head ; 
 
 With warrior rage he scanned his foe, 
 Then, staggering, sank and bled. 
 
 But anger vanished with his fall ; 
 
 His heart the wrong forgave : 
 Dying, he sighed, "God save you all, 
 
 And me, a sinner, save !" 
 
 JONATHAN MITCHELL SEWALL. 
 Mr. Sewall was born at Salem, Mass., in 1 748, and 
 was son of Mitchell and Elizabeth (Price) Sewall. His 
 parents died in the early part of his life, and he was 
 adopted by his uncle Chief-Justice Stephen Sewall. He 
 was apprenticed to mercantile business, but relinquished 
 it upon being attacked with fever, which reduced him 
 so low that he took a voyage to Spain for his health. 
 He was benefited by the trip, but ever afterward had 
 severe nervous affections. After his return he studied law 
 with Jonathan Sewall in Boston, and with John Picker- 
 ing in Portsmouth, N. H., where he was admitted to the 
 bar, becoming celebrated as a lawyer. He was registrar 
 of probate for Grafton County, N. H., in 1774, and af- 
 terward removed to Portsmouth, where he resided the 
 remainder of his life. Love of country was a living prin- 
 ciple with him ; and his eloquence both of tongue and 
 pen roused the patriotism of the sons of America to 
 worthiest deeds. He became widely known as a poet, 
 
JONATHAN MITCHELL SEW ALL. 141 
 
 some of his occasional efforts attaining great popularity, 
 and many of his political songs being published from 
 Maine to Georgia. In 1788, he delivered the "Fourth- 
 of-July Oration" in Portsmouth, which was published. 
 He became addicted to the use of liquor, and for many 
 years previous to his death led an intemperate life. He 
 was eminent in social qualities, being noted for his wit. 
 He died at Portsmouth, after a sickness of about eigh- 
 teen months, March 29, 1808, at the age of sixty. 
 
 Mr. Sewall published in 1798 "The Versification of 
 Washington's Farewell Address ;" and a volume of 
 verse, entitled "Miscellaneous Poems," in 1801. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 FOR THE CELEBRATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE, I 788. 
 
 In the regions of bliss where the Majesty reigns 
 
 Ten thousand bright seraphim shone ; 
 Winged for flight they all stand, harps of gold in each 
 hand, 
 
 When a voice issued mild from the throne. 
 
 Ye powers 1 and dominions, bright guardians of realms ! 
 
 Whose sway Europe's sons have revered, 
 Eastern monarchs no more your aid shall implore, 
 
 To the West all your cares be transferred. 
 
 That vine which from Egypt to Canaan I brought 
 With an out-stretched omnipotent arm, 
 
 In Columbia's rich soil from Britannia's bleak isle, 
 Shall flourish, and brave every storm. 
 
142 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 In vain persecution her wheel shall prepare, 
 
 The tyrant his scourge lift on high ; 
 The wheel shall be broke, the scourge and the yoke 
 
 All shattered in pieces shall lie. 
 
 To accomplish my pleasure, a hero I'll raise, 
 
 Unrivalled in counsel, and might ; 
 Like the prophet of old, wise, patient and bold, 
 
 Resistless as Joshua in fight. 
 
 See the plains of Columbia with banners o'erspread ! 
 
 Hark ! the roar of the battle's begun ! 
 Like a sun of the skies, when proud rebels arise, 
 
 He drives the dire hurricane on. 
 
 Him terrors, nor treasons, nor dangers shall daunt, 
 Till his country, from bondage restored, 
 
 Independent and free, all her greatness shall see 
 Due alone to his conquering sword. 
 
 When the thunder is o'er, and fair peace spreads her 
 wings, 
 
 The chief still refulgent shall beam, 
 Presiding at helm, framing laws for the realm, 
 
 In peace, as in war, still supreme ! 
 
 When the bright golden age shall triumphant return, 
 
 Millennium's new paradise bloom : 
 While from earth's distant end, their high state to 
 attend, 
 
 All nations with transport shall come ! 
 
EABBIET PRE SCOTT SPOFFOBD. 143 
 
 Hail, America, hail ! the glory of lands ! 
 
 To thee those high honors are given, 
 Thy stars still shall blaze till the moon veil her rays, 
 
 And the sun lose his pathway in heaven ! 
 
 HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. 
 Mrs. Harriet Elizabeth (Prescott) Spofford was 
 a daughter of Joseph Newmarch and Sarah (Bridges) 
 Prescott, and was born in Calais, Me., April 3, 1835. 
 Her parents were both far above the average in mental 
 and moral status. When she was fourteen, her family 
 having removed to Newburyport, Mass., she entered the 
 Putnam Free School in that city, from which she grad- 
 uated. She afterward pursued studies, including Latin 
 and Greek, in Pinkerton Academy at Deny, N. H., 
 where she completed her school life. At the age of 
 thirty, after an engagement of several years, she was mar- 
 ried to Richard S Spofford, Esq., then a law-partner 
 with Caleb Cushing in Newburyport, afterward having 
 his office in New York and Boston. Their only child, 
 a son, died in infancy. With her husband she spent 
 many winters in Washington ; but her home is, and for 
 nearly a score of years has been, on Deer Island, a cosy 
 little spot in the Merrimac river, now included in the 
 town of Amesbury. Mrs. Spofiford's literary talent man- 
 ifested itself quite early. She has written many short 
 stories for the leading periodicals, and has published 
 several volumes of prose. In her best verses, there is 
 
144 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 an ease, which, accompanying, as it always does, fresh 
 and vivid description, produces a delightful effect. One 
 writer has referred to her as "The American Sappho." 
 A rare woman among women, Mrs. Spofford is one of 
 the few of our day who are really noteworthy. She is 
 modest, gracious and dutiful, with a mind cultivated and 
 progressive, and a heart hospitable and sympathetic. 
 A volume of her poems was published in 1882. 
 
 VANITY. 
 
 The sun comes up and the sun goes down, 
 And day and night are the same as one ; 
 
 The year grows green and the year grows brown, 
 And what is it all, when all is done ? 
 
 Grains of sombre or shining sand, 
 
 Sliding into and out of the hand. 
 
 And men go down in ships to the seas, 
 And a hundred ships are the same as one ; 
 
 And backward and forward blows the breeze, 
 And what is it all, when all is done ? 
 
 Atide with never a shore in sight 
 
 Setting steadily on to the night. 
 
 The fisher droppeth his net in the stream, 
 And a hundred streams are the same as one. 
 
 And the maiden dreameth her love-lit dream, 
 And what is it all, when all is done ? 
 
 The net of the fisher the burden breaks, 
 
 And always the dreaming the dreamer wakes. 
 
BICHABD S SPOFFOBD. 145 
 
 RICHARD S SPOFFORD. 
 Mr. Spofford was the son of Dr. Richard Smith and 
 Frances (Mills) Spofford, and was born in Newburyport, 
 Mass., July 30, 1833. He graduated at the high school 
 in his native place, and attended Dummer Academy, 
 completing his general education at home and abroad 
 under private instruction. He was a good scholar, fond 
 of literature, declamation and debate, and his oratory 
 was pure, graceful and elegant, winning the encomium 
 of Wendell Phillips. Added to his other gifts he pos- 
 sessed poetic genius, and wrote verses of high rank, 
 though a comparatively small number of poems from 
 his pen were published. Mr. Spofford read law, was 
 admitted to the bar, and became the law-partner of 
 Caleb Cushing in Newburyport. He became the pri- 
 vate secretary of Mr. Cushing on his appointment as 
 attorney-general of the United States under President 
 Pierce, and accompanied him on his foreign mission. 
 Mr. Spofford won many friends in Washington, where 
 he resided for several years, becoming a favorite at the 
 White House, as also of the leading persons from all 
 parts of the country, and representatives of foreign na- 
 tions. Later, he had a large law practice in New York, 
 and finally became the private counsellor for a large 
 corporation, having his office in Boston. In 1866, he 
 married Miss Harriet E. Prescott, the authoress. For 
 several years next prior to his decease they resided 
 most of the time at their home on Deer Island in the 
 Merrimac River, in Amesbury, Mass., where he passed 
 10 
 
146 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 away August n, 1888, at the age of fifty-five, leaving 
 a memory fraught with true nobleness and generosity to 
 the poor, whom he esteemed his brethren. 
 
 OUR RIVER AND ITS POET. 
 
 Long as thy pebbly shores shall keep 
 Their tides, O gallant river, 
 
 Thy mountain heights to ocean's deep 
 Their crystal streams deliver, — 
 
 Long as her bugle on thy hills 
 The hosts of freedom rallies, 
 
 And labor's choral anthem fills 
 Thy loveliest of valleys, — 
 
 So long thy poet's praise and thine 
 Shall live, the years descending ; 
 
 Thy ripple and his flowing line 
 Like song with music blending. 
 
 As widens to the waiting sea 
 
 Thy course, by hill and meadow, 
 
 So flows his sweet humanity 
 
 Through circling sun and shadow. 
 
 While, hallowed thus, no mortal ban 
 
 Unpitying time imposes ; 
 His life who loves his fellow-man 
 
 Wins heaven before it closes. 
 
A NNIE BA TCHELDEB STE VENS. 1 4 7 
 
 ANNIE BATCHELDER STEVENS. 
 
 Miss Stevens was born in Salem, Mass., April 12, 
 1868, and was daughter of Charles Kimball and Mary 
 Elizabeth (Batchelder) Stevens. When she was a year 
 old her parents removed from Salem to Somerville, 
 where she lived nearly sixteen years, and attended the 
 primary, grammar and high schools. In 1884, the fam- 
 ily removed to Lynnfield, where she. has since resided, 
 enjoying the country, for which she had always longed. 
 She pursued the course of study at the State Normal 
 School in Salem, from which she graduated in 1887, be- 
 ing the poet of her class. She began to write verses 
 at the age of eight, but her poems first appeared in 
 print in the Radiator, the Somerville high-school pa- 
 per, in 1882. Since then she has contributed to the 
 Salem Gazette, Watchman, Golden Rule, Helping 
 Hand, and other periodicals. She has also pub- 
 lished several stories and papers. Her productions 
 are always meritorious, and she is well worthy of the 
 niche we have given her in this volume, though the 
 youngest of the poets on our list. In reference to her 
 style of writing, she says : " If there is some word I want 
 to speak to any friend or friends, I simply tell it as 
 sweetly as I know how in verse, and that is all." She 
 has always been busy with school and home duties, 
 and is fond of the study of the Bible, believing it to be 
 the foundation of all really beautiful and true knowl- 
 edge. 
 
148 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 GOD'S LOVE. 
 
 " He will rest in His love;" or, in the Hebrew, "He will be 
 silent in His love." — Zeph. in: 17. 
 
 I long to speak the beauty rare of yonder sky 
 Arching in sweet tranquillity. 
 
 I long to whisper glowing words when peace descends 
 And the rich grandeur all the quiet heaven lends, 
 When sunsets fire the western hill-tops and surround 
 The earth, and leave the distant mountains jewel- 
 crowned. 
 
 I long to speak the blissful thoughts that rise in me 
 When all of nature's wealth I see. 
 But more I long for power to fitly speak of Him, 
 Who fills my cup of joy unto its utmost brim. 
 Yet I cannot. Love's jewels lie sometimes too deep 
 To be upraised to speech. The heart its wealth would 
 keep. 
 
 The life we live, the deeds of truth and beauty shown, 
 Express the love our hearts have known. 
 And there are times when hearts indeed are dumb 
 With love beyond expression, and our spirits come 
 Into the very presence of our God and hold 
 Communion with Jehovah in ways manifold. 
 
 Yet God loves more than we ; and one day we shall 
 
 know 
 The love unfathomed here below. 
 
JULIA NO YES STICKNEY. M9 
 
 Oh, precious thought of his great love ! When God 
 
 hath brought 
 * Home to their joy the loved ones that his grace hath 
 
 sought 
 He shall be silent in his overwhelming love, 
 And truly thus shall he its depth and richness prove. 
 
 JULIA NOYES STICKNEY. 
 Mrs. Stickney was born in West Newbury, Mass., 
 July 5, 1830, and was daughter of Somerby Chase 
 and Mary (Brown) Noyes. Her early childhood was 
 spent at Newburyport. She attended the academy 
 at Bradford, and in 1851 was graduated from the Ips- 
 wich Seminary. She taught school two years in her 
 native town, and was principal of the girls' high school 
 in Haverhill. In 1855, she married Charles Stickney 
 of Groveland, and became the mother of a large family. 
 Inheriting her gift from her mother, who left a manu- 
 script volume of poems, she began to write poetry when 
 only nine years of age, but discontinued it when she 
 married. About ten years ago she resumed her literary 
 work, and has since written much, generally in letters to 
 papers in Massachusetts, Vermont and New York. She 
 spends her summers in travelling over picturesque re- 
 gions, and her winters in Boston,where she has appeared 
 as a lecturer on her travels and a reciter of her own 
 poems. 
 
1 5 o POE TS OF ESSEX CO UNTY. 
 
 In 1884, she published a small volume of verse, en- 
 titled " Poems on Lake Winnipesaukee." 
 
 NIGHT, HASTENING FB03I THE LAKE. 
 
 Was it the soul of night 
 
 That charmed my rapturous sight, 
 Or coming morn, entranced, beyond the wave ! 
 
 The crescent moon shone clear, 
 
 The ethereal atmosphere 
 Was pure with breezes that September gave. 
 
 Orion led the band 
 
 That lit the shadowy land ; 
 The royal planets shone on golden throne, 
 
 And all the adoring stars 
 
 Illumed their crystal bars 
 Till darkness fled and splendor reigned alone. 
 
 The auroral, boreal arch 
 
 Shone as in skies of March, 
 That southern skies might shadow back the gleams, 
 
 Vying with Dian clear 
 
 And diamond-dawning, near, 
 And twilight suns o'er Scandinavian streams. 
 
 I saw the mountain lake 
 
 The living picture take 
 Till glowed the heavens with light, translucent, clear, 
 
 That no man's hand may trace, 
 
 Imperial halls to grace, 
 As earth's grand dream till opening heaven draws near. 
 
 
ISAAC STOBT. 151 
 
 ISAAC STORY. 
 
 Mr. Story was born in Marblehead, Mass., August 
 25, 1 774, and was son of Rev. Isaac and Rebecca (Brad- 
 street) Story. He graduated at Harvard University in 
 1 793, and after studying law opened an office, practising 
 first in Castine, Maine, and afterward in Rutland, Mass. 
 While residing at Castine, he edited The Journal, which 
 was published there. He was the author of considera- 
 ble prose, one of his volumes being over the signature 
 of "The Traveller," much of it having first appeared in 
 the Columbian Centinel. He wrote in imitation of the 
 celebrated " Peter Pindar," and adopted the nom de 
 plume of "Peter Quince." Under this name he published 
 a volume, entitled "The Parnassian Shop," in Boston, in 
 1 80 1. He wrote popular songs and fugitive pieces, 
 and is generally acknowledged to have been a poet of 
 a good deal of merit. Though dying at so youthful an 
 age he was quite extensively known. He was also an or- 
 ator of some note, and when quite young participated 
 in public speaking. In 1800 he delivered a eulogy on 
 Washington at Sterling, Mass., where he then resided ; 
 and in 1801 the Fourth-of-July oration at Worcester. 
 The latter address was published, and is still extant. 
 He died in his native town July 19, 1803, when only 
 twenty-eight. 
 
 In addition to his prose productions, Mr. Story pub- 
 lished in verse "An Epistle from Yarico to Inkle," in 
 1792 ; and "Consolatory Odes," in 1799. 
 
152 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 THE GBAPE. 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Come hither, ye sons of good cheer ; 
 
 Come hither, and taste of my grape ; 
 'Twill make you old Bacchus revere, 
 
 And the plagues of reflection escape. 
 
 It grew on the mountain of joy, 
 Was plucked by a foe to dull care ; 
 
 Its juice can ill nature destroy, 
 And light up the brow of despair. 
 
 To youth it gives pleasure divine, 
 
 Throws a flush on the pallidest cheek ; 
 
 The sweetest sensations combine, 
 And makes even dumbness to speak. 
 
 In age it awakens desire 
 
 For scenes of the purest delight ; 
 
 Fans to flame lovely Venus' fire, 
 And scatters the darkness of night. 
 
 Let the hermit reside in his cave, 
 And squint at the stars as they rise, 
 
 My grape will from solitude save, 
 And spangle with stars all your eyes. 
 
 Cheer up, then, ye heavy of heart, 
 Your sadness and sorrow forbear ; 
 
 Of my grape, I'll give you a part, 
 And dispel all your sorrow and care. 
 
JOSEPH STOBY. i$3 
 
 Come, taste it, for time hurries on ; 
 
 Death rattles his bones at your door, 
 And the moment will shortly be gone, 
 
 When my grape you can taste of no more. 
 -i 79 8. 
 
 JOSEPH STORY. 
 Justice Story was born in Marblehead, Mass., Sep- 
 tember 18, 1779, and was son of Dr. Elisha and 
 Mehitable (Pedrick) Story. He fitted for college at the 
 Marblehead Academy, and in 1798 graduated at Har- 
 vard University, where he was distinguished for poetical 
 talent. He studied law, and was admitted to the Es- 
 sex bar in 1801, beginning practice in Salem. He was 
 a member of congress in 1808 and 1809 ; and in 181 1 
 was appointed, by President Madison, associate-justice 
 of the supreme court of the United States, a position 
 which he held until his death, a period of thirty-four 
 years. For this office he was eminently qualified, and in 
 it he not only won great fame as a judge, but achieved 
 both a European and an American reputation as a jurist. 
 He was a very useful member of the state constitutional 
 convention of 1820. In 1829, he was appointed Dane 
 professor of law in his alma mater, and held the posi- 
 tion till his death. He received the honorary degree 
 of LL.D. from Harvard, Brown and Dartmouth colleges. 
 He wrote several text books on legal subjects, beside 
 many volumes in the form of decisions, which evince ex- 
 traordinary learning, luminous exposition, and profound 
 
154 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 views of the science of law. He possessed great collo- 
 quial powers, and was not easily turned from his opin- 
 ions. He died in Cambridge September 10, 1845 
 at the age of sixty-five. 
 
 When quite young, Mr. Story published a volume of 
 poems, entitled "The Power of Solitude." A second 
 edition was issued in 1804. 
 
 The "Life and Letters of Joseph Story," prepared by 
 his son W. W. Story, was published in two volumes in 
 1851. 
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG LAWYEB. 
 Whene'er you speak, remember every cause 
 Stands not on eloquence, but stands on laws — 
 Pregnant in matter, in expression brief, 
 Let every sentence stand with bold relief; 
 On trifling points, nor time, nor talents waste, 
 A sad offence to learning and to taste ; 
 Nor deal with pompous phrase ; nor e'er suppose 
 Poetic flights belong to reasoning prose. 
 Loose declamation may deceive the crowd, 
 And seem more striking, as it grows more loud ; 
 But sober sense rejects it with disdain, 
 As naught but empty noise, and weak as vain. 
 The froth of words, the schoolboy's vain parade 
 Of books and cases — all his stock in trade — 
 The pert conceits, the cunning tricks and play 
 Of low attorneys, strung in long array, 
 
WILLIAM WETMORE STORY. 155 
 
 The unseemly jest, the petulant reply, 
 
 That chatters on, and cares not how, nor why, 
 
 Studious, avoid — unworthy themes to scan, 
 
 They sink the speaker and disgrace the man. 
 
 Like the false lights, by flying shadows cast, 
 
 Scarce seen when present, and forgot when past. 
 
 Begin with dignity ; expound with grace 
 
 Each ground of reasoning in its time and place ; 
 
 Let order reign throughout — each topic touch, 
 
 Nor urge its power too little, or too much. 
 
 Give each strong thought its most attractive view, 
 
 In diction clear, and yet severely true. 
 
 And, as the arguments in splendor grow, 
 
 Let each reflect its light on all below. 
 
 When to the close arrived, make no delays, 
 
 By petty flourishes, or verbal plays, 
 
 But sum the whole in one deep, solemn strain, 
 
 Like a strong current hastening to the main. 
 
 1833. 
 
 WILLIAM WETMORE STORY. 
 
 Mr. Story was born in Salem, Mass., February 19, 
 1 819, and was son of Justice Joseph and Sarah Waldo 
 (Wetmore) Story. He entered Harvard College, from 
 which he graduated in 1838, at the age of nineteen. 
 He pursued a course of legal studies under his father's 
 supervision, and wrote and published several treatises on 
 law subjects. He also published other volumes of prose, 
 
156 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 among them being "Roba di Roma," published in 
 1862, " Graffiti d'ltalia," published in 1869, and an ex- 
 haustive life of his father, which was published in two 
 volumes in 1851. He was a frequent and entertaining 
 contributor, in both prose and verse, to the Boston 
 Miscellany. He is a good German scholar, and has 
 made a number of poetical translations from that lan- 
 guage . His poetry is highly esteemed, and ranks among 
 the best in this country. He is also an accomplished 
 musician, and widely known as a sculptor. Among the 
 works of sculpture for which he has become distin- 
 guished are busts of Josiah Quincy, James Russell Low- 
 ell, and Theodore Parker, and statues of his father and 
 George Peabody. His " Cleopatra and the Sibyl " and 
 " Delilah " are much admired. He has resided in Rome, 
 Italy, since 1848. 
 
 Mr. Story published " Nature and Art," the Phi 
 Beta Kappa poem, which he delivered at Harvard Uni- 
 versity, in 1844 ; a volume of poetry, entitled " Poems," 
 in 1 84 7 ; another volume of poetry in 1856; and a poem 
 entitled "The Roman Lawyer in Jerusalem" in 1870. 
 
 MEMOBY. 
 
 The children of the spirit cannot die ! 
 
 The sweet affections, trusting childhood knew- 
 Life's rosy dawn, that filled with sunny dew 
 
 The cup of passion, when the heavens were nigh- 
 
WILLIAM WETMOBE STORY. 157 
 
 The sting of death, which makes our life a sigh — 
 These live forever, and their secret hue 
 Pervades the air of thought, even as the blue 
 
 Fills the deep chamber of the vaulted sky. 
 
 Yes, memory forges out its subtle chain 
 
 From every passing act, and thought, and thing, 
 
 From the dim past, the echo sounds again, 
 If but a careless hand shall touch the string — 
 
 As though my spirit thrilled thy casual phrase, 
 
 And sound the memories of departed days. 
 
 SECRET INFL UENCE. 
 
 Little we know what secret influence 
 
 A word, a glance, a casual tone may bring, 
 That, like the wind's breath on a chorded string, 
 
 May thrill the memory, touch the inner sense, 
 
 And waken dreams that come we know not whence ; 
 Or, like the light touch of a bird's swift wing, 
 The lake's still face a moment visiting, 
 
 Leaves pulsing rings, when he has vanished thence. 
 You looked into my eyes an instant's space, 
 And all the boundaries of time and place 
 
 Broke down, and far into a world beyond 
 
 Of buried hopes and dreams my soul had sight, 
 
 Where dim desires long lost, and memories fond, 
 Rose in a soft mirage of tender light. 
 
158 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 
 
 Mrs. Harriet Elizabeth Stowe was born in Litch- 
 field, Conn., June 14, 181 2, and was daughter of Rev. 
 Dr. Lyman and Roxanna (Foote) Beecher. She was 
 reared in Puritanic simplicity, and attended the academy 
 in her native place from seven to twelve years of age, 
 beginning her literary career as a writer for the exhibi- 
 tions of the academy when in her twelfth year. In 1836, 
 she married Prof. Calvin E. Stowe. They lived at first 
 in Cincinnati, Ohio, then removed to Brunswick, Me., 
 and afterward to Andover, Mass., where he was a pro- 
 fessor in the Theological Seminary. Here they resided 
 several years. Mrs. Stowe has been very distinguished 
 and prolific as an author, "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "Dred," 
 "The Minister's Wooing," and "Oldtown Folks," being 
 her best known books. She was co-editor with D. G. 
 Mitchell of Hearth and Home for several years. She 
 has contributed much to periodicals, her later writings 
 having been moral tales and stories for the young. Her 
 style of composition is easy and natural, and her success 
 is due more to her observation than to her imagination. 
 She writes when in the mood. She is now a widow, and 
 continues to reside, in the summer, at her Hartford, 
 Conn., home, whither they removed from Andover, 
 and in the winter amid the orange groves of Mandarin, 
 her Florida estate on the St. John river. She is of me- 
 dium height, with a slight figure, and a thoughtful face, 
 full of refinement. Her hair is almost like snow. She 
 
HABBIET BEECHEB 8T0WE. 159 
 
 has an easy, unassuming way. and an air of genuine old 
 New-England domesticity. 
 
 Mrs. Stowe published a volume of "Religious Poems" 
 in 1867. 
 
 CHBISTIAN BE ACE. 
 When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, 
 
 And billows wild contend with angry roar, 
 Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion, 
 
 That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore. 
 
 Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth, 
 And silver waves chime ever peacefully, 
 
 And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, 
 Disturbs the sabbath of that deepest sea. 
 
 So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest, 
 There is a temple, sacred evermore, 
 
 And all the babble of life's angry voices 
 
 Dies in hushed stillness at its peaceful door. 
 
 Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth, 
 
 And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully, 
 
 And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, 
 Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee. 
 
 O, rest of rests ! O, peace serene, eternal ! 
 
 Thou ever livest ; and thou changest never ; 
 And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth 
 
 Fulness of joy — forever and forever. 
 
160 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 WILLIAM BINGHAM TAPPAN. 
 
 Mr. Tappan was born in Beverly, Mass., October 29, 
 1794, and was son of Samuel and Aurelia (Bingham) 
 Tappan. When William was twelve, his father died, and 
 he was apprenticed to Simon Willard, the Boston clock- 
 maker. In 1815, he went to Philadelphia and set up in 
 the business of clock-making, which he continued about 
 five years. He then, for six years, taught successfully a 
 private academy in Philadelphia. His schooling was 
 very limited, but he had acquired by his earnest efforts 
 a sound education; and in 1826 he became zealously 
 engaged in Sunday-school work, serving as general agent 
 of the American Sunday-School Union, first in Philadel- 
 phia, afterward in Cincinnati, then in Philadelphia again, 
 and from 1838 in Boston, where he remained until 
 his decease, residing with his family at West Needham 
 the last two years of his life. In 1840, he was licensed 
 to preach, and supplied pulpits in and around Boston. 
 He was a fine speaker, having a versatile mind, a thirst 
 for knowledge, and a lifelong desire for the ministry. 
 He was slender in person, with an expressive counte- 
 nance, deep feelings, a nervous temperament, and was 
 in general genial and social, but at times moody and ab- 
 stracted. He began to write and publish poetry when 
 quite young. His hymns are much admired, one of the 
 best known beginning 
 
 "There is an hour of peaceful rest." 
 
WILLIAM BINGHAM TA PPAN. 1 6 1 
 
 He died, suddenly, of the cholera, at his home in West 
 Needham June 18, 1849, at the a S e °f fifty-four. 
 
 Beside his prose works, Mr. Tappan published "New 
 England, and other Poems," 18 19; "Poet's Tribute," 
 1840; "Poems and Lyrics, " 1842 ; "Poetry of the 
 Heart," 1845; "Sacred and Miscellaneous Poems," 
 1847 ; " Poetry of Life, " 1847 ; "The Sunday-School, 
 and other Poems, " 1848 ; " Late and Early Poems, " 
 1849; and collections of his poems in 1822, 1834, 
 1836, and 1848. 
 
 WAKE, ISLES OF THE SOUTH 
 Wake, Isles of the South ! your redemption is near ; 
 
 No longer repose on the borders of gloom ; 
 The Strength of His chosen in love will appear, 
 
 And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb. 
 
 The billows that gird ye, the wild waves that roar, 
 The zephyrs that play when the ocean-storms cease, 
 
 Shall bear the rich freight to your desolate shore, 
 Shall waft' the glad tidings of pardon and peace. 
 
 On the islands that sit in the regions of night, 
 The lands of despair, to oblivion a prey, 
 
 The morning will open with healing and light, 
 The glad star of Bethlehem will usher the day. 
 
 The altar and idol in dust overthrown, 
 
 The incense forbade that was offered in blood, 
 11 
 
1 62 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 The priest of Melchizedec there shall atone, 
 And the shrines of Hawaii be sacred to God ! 
 
 The heathen will hasten to welcome the time 
 The day-spring the prophet in vision once saw, 
 
 When the beams of Messiah shall gladden each clime, 
 And the isles of the ocean shall wait for his law. 
 
 And thou, Obookiah ! now sainted above, 
 
 Wilt rejoice as the heralds their mission disclose ; 
 
 And the prayer will be heard, that the land thou didst 
 love 
 May blossom as Sharon, and bud as the rose ! 
 
 — i8ig. 
 
 LYDIA DAVIS THOMSON. 
 
 Miss Thomson, daughter of Peter and Sarah Gerrish 
 (Davis) Thomson, was born in West Newbury, Mass., 
 March 10, 1844. She belongs to a refined and intel- 
 lectual family, and is of Scotch descent on the paternal 
 side, her grandfather having been a professor in the uni- 
 versity at Edinburgh. At the age of three years, she 
 removed with her parents to Byfield parish, in the ad- 
 joining town of Newbury, where she enjoyed a common - 
 school education. When she was about to enter the 
 high school, her ill-health, adverse circumstances, and 
 the sudden death of her father prevented her from pur- 
 suing the course that she had marked out for herself. 
 
LYDIA DAVIS THOMSON. 163 
 
 As she felt able, however, during the years that fol- 
 lowed, from time to time she continued her literary ad- 
 vancement alone in her quiet home, and under much 
 difficulty she has secured a position in the world of let- 
 ters. Most of her writings consist of poetry, of which 
 she has been a great lover from earliest childhood. 
 She began to rhyme at the age of nine years, and at 
 thirteen constructed her first poem, though she did not 
 publish anything until she was twenty-one. Her printed 
 poems number over two hundred. She has also pre- 
 pared stories and essays for the papers. She has never 
 married, and has always resided with her mother near 
 the railway station at Byfield, in an unpretentious cot- 
 tage, devoting most of her leisure hours to literature. 
 
 THE BROKEN SONG. 
 Once, long ago, a deep-toned song I heard, 
 And sweeter tuned than voice of singing bird, 
 Or rippling rill, or childhood's ringing mirth ; 
 
 Aye, richer, deeper, stronger, grander far 
 Than aught beside I ever heard on earth. 
 
 And whether days were right or days were wrong, 
 Still in my heart I heard the wondrous song, 
 And in my soul of joy there was no dearth ; 
 
 But, ah ! one day a discord entered in, 
 And then the song was like all songs of earth. 
 
1 64 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Sometimes I eagerly ask : Is it lost? 
 Or is it I, alone and tempest- tossed, 
 That cannot hear the sweet song wandering forth ? 
 
 Oh, will the heavy sea be ever calm, 
 That I may hear the song again on earth ? 
 
 Sometimes, methinks, I catch its low refrain, 
 But when I listen, lo, 'tis gone again ; 
 And then my soul this bitter wail sends forth : 
 'Tis lost, 'tis lost ! Oh, foolish, vain regret, 
 The song I heard I'll hear no more on earth. 
 
 But I can die ! Oh, blest the boon of death ! 
 For, oh, methinks, when stilled in life's last breath, 
 I'll hear again those sweet strains pealing forth ; 
 In yonder port, where cruel storms ne'er come, 
 I'll find again the song I lost on earth. 
 — August, 1882. 
 
 CYRUS MASON TRACY. 
 
 Mr. Tracy was a son of Cyrus and Hannah Mason 
 (Snow) Tracy, and was born at Norwich, Conn., May 
 7, 1824. In infancy he contracted a disease, which 
 developed into severe forms, and in his fifth year took 
 the shape of an abscess with curvature of the upper 
 spine. Through his sixth and seventh years his life was 
 despaired of, and his health was not regained until his 
 tenth year, when the disease left a permanent, though 
 
CYBVS MASON TRACY. 165 
 
 not painful deformity. In October, 1838, he removed 
 to Lynn, Mass., which, with the exception of about two 
 years' residence in Salem, has been his home ever since. 
 He is a great lover of nature and the natural sciences, as 
 well as of the fine arts, especially poetry and music. 
 He has lectured on botanical subjects, and in 1858 pub- 
 lished a pamphlet on the flora of Essex county. He 
 is also interested in mechanics, and worked as a cutler 
 and as a finisher in wood and iron seven years. Then 
 until 1855, he was a clerk, and afterward, until 1865, 
 pursued civil-engineering. In 1868 he was elected 
 professor of materia medica and of botany in the Mas- 
 sachusetts College of Pharmacy, at Boston. He re- 
 tired from the college in 1874, and established a large 
 music school in Lynn, which proved to be unsuccess- 
 ful. Since then he has given his attention to the duties 
 of a notary public and conveyancer. From 1856 to 
 1869 he was clerk of the common council of the city of 
 Lynn. Mr. Tracy has devoted much of his life to lit- 
 erature, having been leading writer on the Lynn Tran- 
 script from 1869 to 1879. He is favorably known as 
 a writer of 'prose, and as a poet is possessed of much 
 talent. 
 
 MONODY. 
 
 JAMES BERRY BENSEL. 
 
 O weary song-bird, pierced and pained 
 
 By poetry, that saw thee chained 
 
 And would have set thee free, but strained 
 
1 66 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 The shaft too far — how hast thou gained 
 Late respite from the slow, deep torture that remained ! 
 
 For the keen barb, meant to divide 
 The tether of thy poet-pride, 
 Although the hand that launched it tried 
 For that fair use its flight to guide, 
 Missed that, and sank its point deep in thy quivering 
 side. 
 
 Alas ! poor bird, that still must sing — ' 
 Still must thy morning carol bring, 
 Thine evening melodies outfling — 
 What strugglings came, thy soul to wring, 
 Urged by that arrow still that festered 'neath thy wing ! 
 
 In the dear chant of hope and love, 
 In the grand hymn of things above, 
 In flight of eagle, or of dove — 
 Or whether joy or peace behoove — 
 How rankled still that thorn that would not e'er remove ! 
 
 O suffering singer ! shall we mourn 
 That thy sore heart, so long uptorn, 
 That thy choked voice, so faint and worn, 
 Hath ceased at last — hath reached that bourne 
 Where strong deliverance waits, with golden locks un- 
 shorn ? 
 
 Cruel to bid thee live — to tune 
 The lyre to melodies of June — 
 
JONES VEBT. 167 
 
 When every stanza, turning soon, 
 Stung thee, and left its spiteful boon 
 To smart unseen by night, at morning or at noon. 
 
 And so we bid thee rest. The hand 
 Of mortal could not this command : 
 That thou should'st know the breathings bland 
 Of poet-happiness. The band 
 Knotted thy brow too close. Not this thy promised land. 
 
 Rest then. To thus have gained the shore 
 Where all that creeps o'er earth's cold floor 
 Is past, suffice thee well. No more 
 The arrow galls. The laurelled score 
 
 Hath thy name, too ; thy sheaf lies ripe beside the door. 
 
 — 1886. 
 
 JONES VERY. 
 Mr. Very was born in Salem, Mass., August 28, 
 18 1 3, and was son of Capt. Jones and Lydia (Very) 
 Very. When a lad, not yet in his teens, Jones made 
 voyages to Russia and New Orleans with his father, who 
 was a sea-captain. When he was eleven years old his 
 father died, and he worked and earned money with 
 which to buy books to study. He graduated at Har- 
 vard College in 1836, after only two years' instruction, 
 ranking second in his class. He was there appointed a 
 tutor in Greek, and while performing his duties studied 
 
1 68 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 in the divinity school, which he was compelled to 
 leave before the time for graduating on account of ill 
 health. He returned to Salem in 1838, and was licensed 
 to preach in 1843, but was never ordained, though he 
 occasionally exercised the functions of the office. He 
 was never married, and lived in his native place, with 
 his gifted sisters, in a quiet, unostentatious way. He 
 had a strong spiritual presence, and an almost saintly 
 meekness, combined with an intense love of what was 
 good and true. Into his writings he poured all his soul, 
 and his simple, trusting faith. He possessed an absorb- 
 ing love of nature, both for its own sake, and because 
 he could see in it the revelation of God to man. He 
 was so much in communion with it that he seemed to 
 lead a lonely existence. The ledgy, barren hills of "Great 
 Pasture" were to him always delightful, and the source 
 of some of his best verses. The sonnet was his favo- 
 rite poetic style. Bryant commended his poetry for its 
 "extraordinary grace and originality," and pronounced 
 it "among the finest in the language ;" Emerson said 
 that "it bore the unmistakable stamp of grandeur ;" and 
 Matthew Arnold agrees with the other critics, remark- 
 ing a genuine note not found elsewhere in American po- 
 etry. Mr. Very died in Salem, deeply lamented, May 
 8, 1880, at the age of sixty-six. 
 
 His works have been published as follows : "Essays 
 and Poems," in 1839 ; "Poems," with an introductory 
 memoir byWra. P. Andrews, in 1883 ; and "Poems and 
 Essays," with portrait, and a biographical sketch by 
 James Freeman Clarke, in 1886. ^ xe r 
 
 r 
 
JONES VERY. 169 
 
 THE SON 
 
 Father, I wait thy word. The sun doth stand 
 
 Beneath the mingling line of night and day, 
 A listening servant, waiting thy command 
 
 To roll rejoicing on its silent way ; 
 The tongue of time abides the appointed hour, 
 
 Till on our ear its solemn warnings fall ; 
 The heavy cloud withholds the pelting shower, 
 
 Then every drop speeds onward at thy call ; 
 The bird reposes on the yielding bough, 
 
 With breast unswollen by the tide of song ; 
 So does my spirit wait thy presence now 
 
 To pour thy praise in quickening life along, 
 Chiding with voice divine man's lengthened sleep, 
 While round the Unuttered Word and Love their vigils 
 keep. 
 
 NATURE. 
 
 Nature ! my love for thee is deeper far 
 
 Than strength of words, though spirit-born, can tell ; 
 For while I gaze they seem my soul to bar, 
 
 That in thy widening streams would onward swell, 
 Bearing thy mirrored beauty on its breast, — 
 
 Now, through thy lonely haunts unseen to glide, 
 A motion that scarce knows itself from rest, 
 
 With pictured flowers and branches on its tide ; 
 Then, by the noisy city's frowning wall, 
 
 Whose armed heights within its waters gleam, 
 
170 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 To rush with answering voice to ocean's call, 
 
 And mingle with the deep its swollen stream, 
 Whose boundless bosom's calm alone can hold 
 That heaven of glory in thy skies unrolled. 
 
 LYDIA LOUISA ANN VERY. 
 Miss Very was born in Salem, Mass., November 2, 
 1823, and was daughter of Capt. Jones and Lydia 
 (Very) Very. She has always resided in her native 
 city with her sister and brothers, the latter being now 
 deceased, and was for more than thirty years a teacher 
 in the public schools there. She shares largely in the 
 fine poetic gift which distinguishes the family, and is 
 admired for her natural grace, fine fancy, and delicacy 
 of observation, as exhibited in her productions, being 
 well-known as a poetess throughout New England. She 
 has an ease of versification, and a freedom from tricks 
 of style and mannerism which cover up shallow thoughts 
 with deep-sounding words. She writes because she has 
 something to say. The religious sentiment is strong in 
 her nature, and her poems inspired thereby are the most 
 valued. Some of these are very striking in idea and 
 beautiful in expression. In others of her poems, owing 
 to the difficulty of finding sufficiently fitting language, the 
 thought is more poetic than the expression. Some of her 
 sweetest lines are wrought from her love of little chil- 
 dren and of nature. For many years she has contributed 
 to the Boston and Salem papers, in both prose and verse. 
 
LYDIA LOUISA ANN VEBY. 171 
 
 She is also an artist, and has produced pictorial illustra- 
 tions of "Red Riding Hood," and other children's sto- 
 ries, accompanied by exquisite designs and pretty 
 juvenile verses. These have proved to be very popu- 
 lar, and have been republished in Germany. 
 
 Miss Very published a volume of verse, entitled " Po- 
 ems," in 1856. 
 
 LINES. 
 The foot- crushed flower fresh fragrance yields ; 
 
 The dying bird more sweetly sings ; 
 The trampled hay perfumes the fields ; 
 And from a harp the wild wind brings 
 Sweet notes of melody, as softly played 
 As if an angel's fingers o'er it strayed. 
 
 And spirits crushed by weight of care, 
 
 Bent by neglect like broken reeds, 
 Whose burdens are too hard to bear, 
 
 Have filled the world with mighty deeds ; 
 Thus sorrow rudely striking the heart's strings 
 Forth from the trembling chords sweet music brings. 
 
 Genius hath found its noblest sons 
 
 Among the long despised, the poor 1 
 Amid earth's meek and lowly ones, 
 Whose powers expand as they endure I 
 Crushed 'neath the iron heel of haughty pride, 
 Heart perfume springeth where the mind's flowers hide. 
 
172 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Many a blow the gem must bear, 
 
 Ere it to us appears a gem ; 
 Earth must its chilling garment wear, 
 Its icy crown as diadem, 
 Ere from its lap the shining blades can spring 
 And it to man a golden harvest bring ! 
 
 The spirit cold neglect must feel, 
 
 Earth's crown of thorns its brow must wear ; 
 Ere from the mind a thought can steal, 
 Or it with kindred minds can share 
 The calm enjoyment of those noble powers, 
 Which find in heaven the fruit of earth's pale flowers. 
 
 ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS WARD. 
 Mrs. Ward was born in Boston, Mass., August 31, 
 1 844, and was the daughter of Professor Austin and Eliz- 
 abeth (Stuart) Phelps. Her early life was spent in An- 
 dover, Mass., her father having been one of the professors 
 in the theological seminary there for several years. An- 
 dover has been Mrs. Ward's home, though much of her 
 summers has been spent at East Gloucester, on Cape 
 Ann, until her marriage with Rev. Herbert D. Ward of 
 New York October 20, 1888. She began to write for 
 publication quite early in life, and has since devoted 
 herself to her literary work, having published many 
 story books. There have been issued in all twenty-nine 
 volumes of her fiction, and some of them, such as "Gates 
 
ELIZABETH STUABT PHELPS WARD. 173 
 
 Ajar," have been remarkably successful in their sales. 
 She has been a contributor to Harper's Magazine, 
 Our Young Folks, Atlajitic Monthly, Independent, and 
 other periodicals. Beside her prose works she has 
 written considerable verse. Some of her poems have a 
 despondent cast, being pervaded by a mystical, dreamy 
 thoughtfulness ; others are bright and witty, betokening 
 a happy and contented frame of mind ; and all contain 
 certain varied beauties. She has accomplished much for 
 one who is in delicate health. 
 
 Mrs. Ward is the author of "Poetic Studies," a vol- 
 ume of poems published in Boston in 1875 ; and also 
 of "Songs of the Silent World, and Other Poems," 
 which appeared in 1885. 
 
 DO I LOVE YOU? 
 
 Do I love you ? Do I love you ? 
 Ask the heavens that bend above you 
 To find language and to prove you 
 
 If they love the living sun. 
 Ask the burning, blinded meadows, 
 What they think about the shadows, 
 If they love the falling shadows, 
 
 When the fervid day is done. 
 
 Ask the bluebells and the daisies, 
 Lost amid the hot field-mazes, 
 Lifting up their thirsty faces, 
 
 If they love the summer rains. 
 
174 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Ask the linnets and the plovers, 
 In the nest-life made for lovers, 
 Ask the bees, and ask the clovers — 
 Will they tell you for your pains ? 
 
 Do I, darling, do I love you ? 
 What, I pray, can that behoove you ? 
 How in love's name can I move you, 
 
 When for love's sake I am dumb? 
 If I told you, if I told you, 
 Would that keep you, would that hold you, 
 Here at last where I enfold you? 
 
 If it would — Hush ! darling, come ! 
 
 MARY ANN WEBBER. 
 
 Mrs. Webber was born in Beverly, Mass., February 
 22, 1823, and was daughter of Israel and Polly (Wallis) 
 Trask. She attended Bradford Academy for a short 
 time, and received the remainder of her education in the 
 private schools that existed in her native town at that 
 period. She married Ezekiel W. Webber of Beverly, 
 who died in 1856, and she remained his widow. She 
 was possessed of a fine poetic talent, which she exercised 
 to a considerable extent, and might have used more 
 freely had she been less modest. She wrote for some 
 time under the nom de plume of " Mary Webb, " but 
 learning that another writer was using the same name 
 she dropped it, and afterward published her efforts 
 
MA BY ANN WEBBEB. 1 75 
 
 anonymously. During the latter years of her life she 
 printed very little, but wrote from time to time for her 
 own amusement and the entertainment of her friends. 
 Her poems were mostly occasional, and were written for 
 the Telegraph, Boston Atlas, Salem Gazette, and other 
 newspapers. In 1861, with Mrs. Phebe A. Hanaford, 
 she was engaged in compiling a little volume of patriotic 
 verses under the title of " Chimes of Freedom and Un- 
 ion," to which she contributed. She died of pneumo- 
 nia, at her home in Beverly, where she always resided, 
 March 25, 1889, at the age of sixty-six. 
 
 THE TBAITOB'S TUBE AT. 
 
 "We will march to the tomb of Washington."— Alexander 
 H. Stephens. 
 
 Hold back your breath, ye breezes 
 
 That oversvveep the mound, 
 Within whose precincts is the dust 
 
 That hallows Vernon's ground. 
 
 ■Refuse your echoes, lest they waft 
 The mutterings dark and deep, 
 
 Whose lightest whisper would disturb 
 The honored patriot's sleep. 
 
 Let winter's icy touch restrain 
 
 The balmy zephyr's wing, 
 Waking to life the germs that wrap 
 
 The verdure of the spring. 
 
176 POETS OF ESSEX COUXTT. 
 
 For like the serpent's trail, amid 
 
 The early Eden bloom, 
 Would be the traitor's crest 'mid flowers 
 
 That blossom round that tomb. 
 
 Thou broad Potomac, bid thy waves 
 O'erflood their ancient bed, 
 
 And thus exempt the sacred soil 
 From the insurgent's tread ! 
 
 And if a darker wave must flow, 
 
 To guard that holy spot, 
 In freedom's name, my countrymen ! 
 
 Withhold, withhold it not. 
 
 God has decreed that it shall bear, 
 
 Upon its bloody crest, 
 The ark of freedom, till it reach 
 An Ararat of rest. 
 —1863. 
 
 ANNA MARIA WELLS. 
 
 Mrs. Wells was born in Gloucester, Mass., in 1795, 
 and was daughter of Benjamin and Mary ( Ingersoll) 
 Foster. Her father died when she was about four years 
 of age, and her mother married Joseph Locke, a mer- 
 chant of Boston, whither she removed, making that city 
 her permanent home. The daughter was thoroughly 
 educated; and, in 1821, became the wife of Thomas 
 
ANNA MARIA WELLS. 177 
 
 Wells of Boston, an author of much reputation, an offi- 
 cer of the United States revenue service, and a grand- 
 son of the patriot Samuel Adams. Mrs. Wells' chief 
 attention was given to her school for young ladies. She 
 began to write when very young, but published little 
 until her marriage. Her poetry like her themes, which 
 were generally those suggested by the country, was sim- 
 ple, pure and fervent. She wrote for the Overland 
 Monthly, Ladies' Magazine, Our .Young Folks, and 
 other periodicals of her time. She had great personal 
 beauty, and graceful manners. Possessed of remark- 
 able conversational powers, her thoughts and words be- 
 ing full and bright, she enjoyed the society of Emer- 
 son, Holmes, Longfellow, and other great minds. She 
 was generous and loving, and was loved by all who knew 
 her. Poetry showed itself not only in words and in the 
 loveliness of her person and character, but also in her 
 talent for music and painting. She died in Roxbury, 
 Mass., December 19, 1868, at the age of seventy-three, 
 and lies at rest in the beautiful Forest Hills. 
 
 Mrs. Wells published a volume, entitled " Poems and 
 Juvenile Sketches," in 1831. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 Of all his starry honors shorn, 
 Away old night is stealing ; 
 
 And upward springs the laughing morn, 
 A joyous life revealing. 
 12 
 
178 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Blue-eyed she comes with tresses spread, 
 And breath than incense sweeter ; 
 
 The mountains glow beneath her tread, 
 Light clouds float on to meet her. 
 
 The tall corn briskly stirs its sheaves ; 
 
 A thousand buds have burst 
 The soft green calyx, that their leaves 
 
 To greet her may be first. 
 
 The flowers, that lay all night in tears, 
 Look upward one by one ; 
 
 And pearls each tiny petal bears, 
 An offering to the sun. 
 
 With beads the trembling grass is dressed,- 
 Each thin spire hath its string, 
 
 Scattered in mist, as from her nest 
 The ground-bird flaps her wing. 
 
 The lake obeys the zephyr's will, 
 While, as by fingers pressed, 
 
 The bending locust buds distil 
 Their sweetness o'er its breast. 
 
 With busy sounds the valley rings ; 
 
 The ploughman yokes his team ; 
 The fisher trims his light boat's wings, 
 
 And skims the brightening stream. 
 
 The gentle kine forsake the shed, 
 And wait the milk-maid's call ; 
 
JOHN GBEENLEAF WHITTIER. 179 
 
 The frighted squirrel hears her tread, 
 And scuds along the wall. 
 
 Scattering the night clouds as in scorning, 
 
 Bright pour the new-born rays ; 
 There's more of life in one sweet morning, 
 
 Than in a thousand days. 
 
 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 
 
 Mr. Whittier, "the Quaker poet," was born in Ha- 
 verhill, Mass., December 17, 1807, and was son of John 
 and Abigail (Hussey) Whittier. In early life he worked 
 on his father's farm, and had about twelve weeks of 
 schooling in the year. At the age of eighteen he spent 
 two terms at the academy in his native town. In 1836, 
 he removed with the family to Amesbury, which has 
 since been his permanent home, although for several 
 years past he has resided much of the time at " Oak 
 Knoll," his beautiful country seat at Danvers. In 1829, 
 he became editor of the American Manufacturer, and 
 afterward of the Essex Gazette, Middlesex Standard, 
 Pennsylvania Free?nan, Anti- Slavery Reporter, and Na- 
 tional Era. He was a member of the State legislature 
 in 1835, and became one of the foremost champions of 
 the cause of the slave. He is a Quaker, — unassuming, 
 accessible and frank. Some have called him liberal in 
 his religious belief, and so he is ; but his freedom is that 
 of truth and love as manifested in God. When in his 
 
1 80 FOETS OF ESSEX CO UNTY. 
 
 prime he was tall and slender, with black hair and large, 
 black eyes, glowing with expression. His black eyes still 
 sparkle, but he is a little bent, and his hair is gray. His 
 poems are particularly the literature of the common peo- 
 ple, for whom they were written, and the offspring of his 
 own beautiful simplicity, "Snow-Bound" being one of 
 his best productions. He has never married. 
 
 Beside the editing of several works, Mr. Whittier has 
 published a number of prose volumes of his own com- 
 position. He is best known, however, by his poetical 
 works, which are "Legends of New England," 1832 ; 
 "Moll Pitcher," 1832; "Mogg Megone," 1836; "The 
 Bridal ofPennacook;" "The Voices of Freedom," 1841 ; 
 "Lays of My Home, and Other Poems," 1843 j "Songs 
 of Labor, and Other Poems," 1848; "The Chapel ot 
 the Hermits, and Other Poems," 1852 j "A Sabbath 
 Scene," 1854; "The Panorama, and Other Poems," 
 1856; "Home Ballads and Poems," 1859; "In War 
 Time," 1863; "Snow-Bound," 1865; "National Lyr- 
 ics," 1865; "Maud Muller," 1866; "Tent on the 
 Beach," 1867; "Among the Hills," 1868; "Ballads of 
 New England," 1869; "Miriam," 1870; and several 
 complete collections of his poems. 
 
 THE ETERNAL G ODNESS. 
 O friends ! with whom my feet have trod 
 
 The quiet aisles of prayer, 
 Glad witness to your zeal for God 
 
 And love of man I bear. 
 
JOHN GBEENLEAF WHITTIER. 181 
 
 I trace your lines of argument ; 
 
 Your logic linked and strong 
 I weigh as one who dreads dissent, 
 
 And fears a doubt as wrong. 
 
 But still my human hands are weak 
 
 To hold your iron creeds : 
 Against the words ye bid me speak 
 
 My heart within me pleads. 
 
 Who fathoms the Eternal Thought ? 
 
 Who talks of scheme and plan ? 
 The Lord is God ! He needeth not 
 
 The poor device of man. 
 
 I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground 
 
 Ye tread with boldness shod ; 
 I dare not fix with mete and bound 
 
 The love and power of God. 
 
 Ye praise his justice ; even such 
 
 His pitying love I deem : 
 Ye seek a king j I fain would touch 
 
 The robe that hath no seam. 
 
 Ye see the curse which overbroods 
 
 A world of pain and loss ; 
 I hear our Lord's beatitudes 
 
 And prayer upon the cross. 
 
 More than your schoolmen teach, within 
 Myself, alas ! I know : 
 
1 82 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Too dark ye cannot paint the sin, 
 Too small the merit show. 
 
 I bow my forehead to the dust, 
 I veil mine eyes for shame, 
 
 And urge, in trembling self- distrust, 
 A prayer without a claim. 
 
 I see the wrong that round me lies, 
 
 I feel the guilt within ; 
 I hear, with groan and travail-cries, 
 
 The world confess its sin. 
 
 Yet, in the maddening maze of things, 
 And tossed by storm and flood, 
 
 To one fixed trust my spirit clings ; 
 I know that God is good ! 
 
 Not mine to look where cherubim 
 And seraphs may not see, 
 
 But nothing can be good in Him 
 Which evil is in me. 
 
 The wrong that pains my soul below 
 I dare not throne above : 
 
 I know not of His hate, — I know 
 His goodness and His love. 
 
 I dimly guess from blessings known 
 
 Of greater out of sight, 
 And, with the chastened Psalmist, own 
 
 His judgments too are right. 
 
JOHN GBEENLEAF WHITTIER. 183 
 
 I long for household voices gone, 
 
 For vanished smiles I long, 
 But God hath led my dear ones on, 
 
 And he can do no wrong. 
 
 I know not what the future hath 
 
 Of marvel or surprise, 
 Assured alone that life and death 
 
 His mercy underlies. 
 
 And if my heart and flesh are weak 
 
 To bear an untried pain, 
 The bruised reed he will not break, 
 
 But strengthen and sustain. 
 
 No offering of my own I have, 
 
 Nor works my faith to prove ; 
 I can but give the gifts he gave, 
 
 And plead his love for love. 
 
 And so beside the Silent Sea 
 
 I wait the muffled oar ; 
 No harm from him can come to me 
 
 On ocean or on shore. 
 
 I know not where his islands lift 
 
 Their fronded palms in air ; 
 I only know I cannot drift 
 
 Beyond his love and care. 
 
 O brothers ! if my faith is vain, 
 If hopes like these betray, 
 
1 84 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Pray for me that my feet may gain 
 The sure and safer way. 
 
 And thou, Lord ! by whom are seen 
 Thy creatures as they be, 
 
 Forgive me if too close I lean 
 My human heart on thee ! 
 
 HIRAM OZIAS WILEY. 
 Mr. Wiley was born in Middlebury, Vt, May 20, 
 1831, and was son of Phineas and Mary (Ellis) Wiley. 
 He came to Danvers, Mass., when about sixteen years 
 of age, and was there employed in the manufacture of 
 shoes for several years. His mental qualities would not 
 permit him to while away his life in the humdrum oc- 
 cupation of a shoemaker. He felt an irresistible desire 
 for a different and more intellectual existence. He con - 
 eluded to become a lawyer, and after pursuing the nec- 
 essary studies was admitted to the Essex bar in 1855, 
 opening an office in that part of Danvers, which was in- 
 corporated as South Danvers (now Peabody) the same 
 year. He afterward resided in Lynn a short time, and 
 returned to Peabody, where he lived during the re- 
 mainder of his life, having a limited practice. He 
 gave a large portion of his time and thought to litera- 
 ture, being for a few years editor of the Essex States- 
 man. He wrote considerable verse, some of his poems 
 being fine, and most of them partaking of the spirit of 
 
HIRAM OZIAS WILEY. 185 
 
 his despondent, unsuccessful life, which led him to ex- 
 claim, 
 
 " Life ! is thy large promise vain 
 
 Of ripened shocks, of bearded grain? 
 
 Do thy hard husks no fruit contain? " 
 
 He sought to drown his sorrows and cares in the exhil- 
 arating cup, and became a wreck in his prime. In very 
 destitute circumstances, he died of the small pox, in Pea- 
 body, January 28, 1873, at the age of forty-one. His 
 social qualities won for him many friends, who often re- 
 lieved his inipecuniosity. He had a generous, humor- 
 ous disposition. 
 
 A volume of Mr. Wiley's poems was published in 
 1874, it being entitled "Eternity, and Other Poems." 
 
 TEE POOR ATTORNEY. 
 Morn and evening, in an easy chair 
 
 Sits an attorney sadly musing ; 
 Morn, noon and evening, sitting there, 
 Blackstone, Coke, and Littleton perusing, 
 
 With an air 
 Of anxious waiting, in his easy chair. 
 
 Boots unpolished, and cravat awry, 
 
 Feet exalted on a dingy table, 
 Coat undusted, and a dreamy eye ; 
 
 Talk of fees to him seems all a fable. 
 " By and by ! " 
 
 He, uprising, mutters, with a sigh. 
 
1 86 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Morn, and noon, and evening, " Well-a-day ! " 
 It is strange that modest merit never 
 
 Did succeed, as all old people say 
 It never did ; though so very clever, 
 
 He for aye 
 Must wait till every dog has had his day. 
 
 There he sits, with hand beneath his chin, 
 
 Hears the wind about the casements humming ; 
 
 Hopes, to cheer him, some one may drop in, 
 Wonders when the good time is a- coming. 
 
 Pale and thin, 
 Sits there with his hand beneath his chin. 
 
 Dreams he has dreamed till he is gray, 
 Each dream has in its turn betrayed him, 
 
 And their ghosts seem mockingly to say, 
 
 "Ample propositions hope once made him." 
 
 Law's delay 
 Has turned the poor attorney gray. 
 
 So he sits there ; the good God doth know 
 How his rent and tailor's bills he's paying ; 
 
 Ne'er on him did prosperous breezes blow, 
 Or swell his sails, while he a-wanton straying : 
 
 Why 'tis so, 
 Poor attorney, the good God doth know. 
 
 So he sits there ; let us hope that still 
 
 " They also serve who only stand and wait ; " 
 Who "shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will," 
 
WILLIAM WINTEB. 187 
 
 The partial goddess, fortune called, or fate, 
 
 Yet may fill 
 His cup with good, although he sitteth still. 
 
 WILLIAM WINTER. 
 Mr. Winter was born in Gloucester, Mass., July 15, 
 1836, and was son of Charles and Louisa (Wharf) Win- 
 ter. His mother, who was the daughter of an Italian, 
 died when he was four years of age. He was educated 
 in the schools of Gloucester, Boston and Cambridge, 
 took a degree at Harvard College, and in Dane Law 
 School, and was admitted to the bar, but never prac- 
 tised. He lived in Gloucester and Cambridge, and re- 
 moved, in i860, to New York, where he still resides. 
 He had five children, one of whom died in 1886, and 
 in his memory Mr. Winter founded "The Arthur Win- 
 ter Memorial Library" in the Staten Island Academy 
 and Latin School, at Stapleton. His years have been 
 passed in hard work. He has tried to make life sweet 
 and gentle for other people ; and his productions have 
 honored truth and virtue. He has written many books, 
 and has added to the poetic literature of his native land 
 by his rich imagination and his cultivated talent, hav- 
 ing contributed to the New York Tribune, New York 
 Albion, Atlantic Monthly, Home Journal, Boston 
 Transcript, and other magazines and journals ; and hav- 
 ing edited two volumes of George Arnold's poems. He 
 has been the dramatic critic for the New York Tribune 
 
1 88 POETS OF ESSEX COUXTY. 
 
 since August, 1865, and has always advocated a noble 
 stage. In the streets of New York City he attracts at- 
 tention by his venerable appearance and his flowing 
 snow-white hair. 
 
 Beside Mr. Winter's prose works he has published 
 several volumes of poems : "The Convent, and Other 
 Poems" in 1854; "The Queen's Domain, and Other 
 Poems" in 1858; and "My Witness" in 1871. 
 
 THE AXGEL DEATH. 
 
 Come with a smile, when come thou must, 
 Evangel of the world to be, 
 
 And touch and glorify this dust — 
 
 This shuddering dust, that now is me — 
 And from this prison set me free ! 
 
 Long in those awful eyes I quail, 
 That gaze across the grim profound : 
 
 Upon that sea there is no sail, 
 Nor any light, nor any sound 
 From the far shore that girds it round. 
 
 Only — two still and steady rays 
 
 That those twin orbs of doom o'ertop ; 
 
 Only — a quiet, patient gaze 
 
 That drinks my being drop by drop, 
 And bids the pulse of nature stop. 
 
 Come with a smile, auspicious friend, 
 To usher in the eternal day ! 
 
GEOBGE EDWARD WOODBERRY. 189 
 
 Of these weak terrors make an end, 
 And charm the paltry chains away 
 That bind me to this timorous clay ! 
 
 And let me know my soul akin 
 
 To sunrise, and the winds of morn, 
 
 And every grandeur that has been 
 
 Since this all-glorious world was born, — 
 Nor longer droop in my own scorn. 
 
 Come when the way grows dark and chill ! 
 
 Come when the baffled mind is weak, 
 And in the heart that voice is still, 
 
 Which used in happier days to speak, 
 
 Or only whispers, sadly meek. 
 
 Come with a smile that dims the sun ! 
 
 With pitying heart and gentle hand ! 
 And waft me from my vigil done, 
 
 To peace, that waits on thy command, 
 
 In some mysterious better land. 
 
 GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY. 
 Mr. Woodberry was born in Beverly, Mass., May 
 12, 1855, an d was son of Henry Eliot and Sarah Dane 
 (Tuck) Woodberry. He received his education at 
 Phillips' Academy in Exeter, N. H., and at Harvard 
 College, graduating from the latter institution in 1877. 
 He was a professor of English literature in the State 
 
190 POETS OF ESSEX COUXTY. 
 
 University of Nebraska in 1877 and 1878, and also 
 from 1880 to 1882. In 1878 and 1879 he was on the 
 editorial staff of The Nation, and for the last year has 
 been attached to the Boston Post. He has contributed 
 to The Nation and the Atlantic Monthly regularly for 
 several years, and occasionally to other periodicals. 
 He has written a " History of Wood Engraving," pub- 
 lished by the Harpers in 1883; "The North-Shore 
 Watch, a Threnody," privately printed in 18S3 j and 
 "Life of Edgar All£n Poe" in the " American Men of 
 Letters," published in 1885. As a poet, Mr. Wood- 
 berry stands very high with the scholars and critics of 
 our land, many believing him to be the coming Amer- 
 ican poet. He has published but few poems, and prob- 
 ably their number will never be great. His production 
 entitled " My Country," which is so widely and favor- 
 ably known for its patriotic language, was set to music 
 by Prof. John K. Paine, and brought out at the recent 
 Cincinnati festival. In 1885, Mr. Woodberry spent 
 some months in Italy, and passed the winter of 1888-9 
 in Europe. He resides in his native town, and devotes 
 his time to literary work. 
 
 AT GIBE ALT AB. 
 
 I 
 England, I stand on thy imperial ground, 
 Not all a stranger ; as thy bugles blow, 
 I feel within my blood old battles flow, — 
 
GEOBGE EDWABD WOODBEBBY. 191 
 
 The blood whose ancient founts in thee are found. 
 
 Still surging dark against the Christian bound 
 Wide Islam presses ; well its peoples know 
 Thy heights that watch them wandering below ; 
 
 I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound. 
 
 I turn, and meet the cruel, turbaned face ; 
 
 England, 'tis sweet to be so much thy son ! 
 I feel the conqueror in my blood and race ; 
 
 Last night Trafalgar awed me,, and to-day 
 Gibraltar wakened ; hark, thy evening gun 
 
 Startles the desert over Africa ! 
 
 11 
 Thou art the rock of empire, set mid-seas 
 
 Between the East and West, that God has built ; 
 
 Advance thy Roman borders where thou wilt, 
 While run thy armies true with his decrees. 
 Law, justice, liberty, — great gifts are these ; 
 
 Watch that they spread where English blood is 
 spilt, 
 
 Lest, mixed and sullied with his country's guilt, 
 The soldier's life-stream flow, and Heaven displease. 
 
 Two swords there are : one naked, apt to smite, 
 Thy blade of war ; and, battle- storied, one 
 
 Rejoices in the sheath, and hides from light. 
 American I am ; would wars were done ! 
 
 Now, westward, look, my country bids good-night, — 
 Peace to the world from ports without a gun. 
 
192 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 KATE TANNATT WOODS. 
 
 Mrs. Woods was born at Peekskill, N. Y.. December 
 29, 1S40. and was daughter of James Sullivan and 
 Mary (Gilmour) Tannatt. Her father was an editor, 
 and her mother was one of the famous Scotch Gilmour 
 family near Edinburgh, whose old castle of Craigmillar 
 is still owned by descendants of Sir John Gilmour, 
 once a favorite writer for the Signet. Mrs. Woods was 
 a delicate child. She attended the seminary in her na- 
 tive town, and also had private instruction. Her father 
 died about 1S50, and the rest of the family left their 
 home by the Hudson, and removed to Salem, Mass. 
 While yet in her teens she married George Henry 
 Woods, Esq., a Salem gentleman, who was at that time 
 conducting a prosperous law business at Minneap- 
 olis, Minn. The Rebellion broke out and he became 
 a colonel in the army, where he was so seriously in- 
 jured that he could do no more business. Mrs. Woods, 
 who had published articles since ten years of age, then 
 supported the family by her pen. She has written con- 
 stantly for many years, contributing to the St. Paul Pio- 
 neer, the Omaha papers, and to many New England 
 papers. Her poems, stories and books are all pure, 
 sweet and strong. Her juvenile stories in St. Nicholas, 
 Wide Awake, and other periodicals are popular with 
 the young people, and her editorial work in the Boston 
 Globe and American Home Magazine is clear, terse 
 and vigorous. She is the author of several dialect po- 
 ems, which are widely quoted. She also uses the 
 
KATE TANNATT WOODS. 193 
 
 brush. Her husband died several years ago, and she 
 has since resided in Salem. 
 
 AN INCIDENT OF THE CIVIL WAR. 
 On my finger I've a token 
 
 Of the long ago, 
 Days when vows were seldom broken, 
 When love lived, though oft unspoken, 
 When war reigned on land and sea, 
 Then this token came to me. 
 
 He who wore it died in battle . 
 
 In the long ago ; 
 'Midst the shot, and 'midst the shell, 
 His weak voice could only tell, 
 "Sergeant, when my friend you see, 
 Give this ring, and speak of me." 
 
 So the sergeant took the circle, 
 
 Worn so long ago ; 
 And through years of weary waiting, 
 Hope now growing, now abating, 
 Then he found and gave it me, 
 The inscription plain to see : 
 
 "As I love, love me." 
 
 Soldier brave and soldier young, 
 
 In the long ago ; 
 Thy sad story shall be sung, 
 
 13 
 
194 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 How thy heart with sorrow wrung ; 
 Cherished still, his tender token, 
 With its love-note softly spoken. 
 
 Bride of weeks and bride of death, 
 
 In the long ago ; 
 Loving me with his last breath, 
 No rude hand must touch the ring, 
 No coarse voice his sorrow sing, 
 Only one both loved must see 
 
 "As I love, love me." 
 
 So the little token found me 
 
 In the long ago ; 
 Worn the gold, the motto clearer, 
 As the years come near and nearer, 
 And the lost ones seem still dearer. 
 Love has grown by faith to see 
 All the meaning there may be 
 In the note so sadly spoken, 
 In the golden band unbroken : 
 "As I love, love me." 
 —1887. 
 
 OTHER POETS. 
 
 Of some of our writers complete sketches were not 
 obtained, and others were learned of too late for inser- 
 tion in their proper places. These are included among 
 those that follow. 
 
OTHER POETS. IQ5 
 
 The Rev. Joseph Capen, born at Dorchester in 
 1658, minister at Topsfield from 1682 to his decease in 
 1725, was a writer of verse, and author of an epitaph 
 on John Foster, the printer of the seventeenth century. 
 Rev. Nicholas Noyes of Salem also wrote poetry about 
 1 708. So did Rev. John Barnard, minister at Mar- 
 blehead, who was born in 1681, and died in 1770. Dr. 
 Joseph'Orne, a native of Salem, who was born in 1747 
 and died in 1786, was a physician in Beverly, and had 
 a fine and poetic mind, but wrote very little. Rev. 
 Levi Frisbie, minister at Ipswich from 1776 to his 
 death, which occurred in 1806, wrote some poetry; as 
 also did his son Prof. Levi Frisbie, who was born at 
 Ipswich in 1 784. Rev. Samuel Worcester of Salem, 
 who was born at Hollis, N. H., in 1770, and died in 
 1 82 1, wrote hymns at the beginning of this century. 
 William 'Bigelow, who graduated at Harvard College 
 in 1 794, was a resident of Salem, where he taught school 
 a number of years, and died in 1844, at the age of sev- 
 enty, having published "Education," a poem, at Salem 
 in 1799 ; "Phi Beta Kappa" a poem, in 181 1 ; and a 
 "Poem ■ on Intemperance" in 1834. Enoch' Mudge, 
 who was born at Lynn in 1776, and who died there in 
 1850, wrote some instructive and admonitory poetry. 
 He published "Lynn ; a Poem," in pamphlet form, in 
 1826. Dr. Andrew" Nichols, who was born at Dan- 
 vers in 1785, and died there in 1853, having practised 
 medicine for many years, wrote occasional poems and 
 hymns. He was in the habit of writing a poem every 
 Sunday. Nathaniel Lord, jr., of Ipswich, sometimes 
 
196 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 indulged in rhyme and measure. Rev. James Flint, 
 a native of Reading, was pastor of the East church in 
 Salem from 1825 to 1 851, and wrote many occasional 
 poems and hymns, publishing a volume of poetry in 
 1852. He was also principal of Bradford Academy for 
 a while. Rev. John W.' Hanson wrote for the local pa- 
 pers while he was settled in Danvers some forty years 
 ago. Frederick Knight, brother of Rev. Henry C. 
 Knight, was born at Hampton, N. H., in 1791, and 
 spent nearly the whole of his life at Rowley, Mass., 
 where he died in 1849, having written considerably in 
 metre. He was educated at Harvard College, and at the 
 Litchfield, Conn., Law School. Some of his poems are 
 found in his memorial volume, entitled "Thorn-Cottage, 
 or the Poet's Home," published in 1857, in one of which 
 are found the following lines : — 
 
 "While shallow brooks and slender rills, 
 Derived from rains and little hills, 
 
 Go tinkling on their way 
 As if they thought their noisy thanks 
 Would please the springs along their banks, 
 
 As shallow things as they; 
 Deep rivers, by the mountains fed, 
 Exhaustless as their fountain-head, 
 
 Roll silent to the sea." 
 
 He gave all of his manuscripts and those of his brother 
 Henry (which had become his property) to Miss Eliza- 
 beth Wheelwright of Newburyport, who had been, as he 
 said in his will, "a ministering angel of mercy" to him. 
 Enoch Curtin, a shoemaker, who was born at Lynn in 
 
OTHER POETS. *97 
 
 1794, and died in 1842, resided in his native town, and 
 had considerable poetic talent, but no ambition to de- 
 velop it. He wrote occasional odes and songs. The 
 distinguished historian William Hicklivg Prescott, 
 who was born at Salem in 1 796, published a " Scotch 
 Song," and two books on Italian poetry. Mrs. Lavinia 
 Weston of Georgetown, her native place, who is now 
 eighty-nine years of age, has written and still writes 
 hymns of good quality. The Hon. Caleb 'Cushing of 
 Newburyport, who was born at Salisbury in 1800, wrote 
 some short poems in his early years. Rev. S. P. Hill, a 
 native of Salem, and pastor of a church in Haverhill 
 about sixty years ago, also wrote some meritorious lines. 
 Benjamin Franklin Newhall, who was born at Saugus 
 in 1802, and died there in 1863, wrote both prose and 
 poetry. Mrs. Anne Miles, who was born at Salem in 
 1803, and died in 1879, * s sa ^ t0 nave written some 
 very fine lines. Fitch Poole, who was born at Peabody 
 in 1803, and died there in 1873, wrote poetry for his 
 papers — the Wizard and the Peabody Press, of which 
 he was editor respectively. Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 once said that he regarded Mr. Poole as among the 
 brightest and most genial humorists in the country at 
 that time. He was the author of many satirical and 
 humorous ballads, and had a great local reputation forty 
 years ago. Rev. Edwin Martin Stone, who was born 
 in 1805, and was a Congregational pastor in Beverly for 
 thirteen years, wrote poetry. Miss Maria Augusta'Ful- 
 ler of Lynn, who was born there in 1806, and died in 
 1 83 1, at the age of twenty-four, was talented and imag- 
 
198 TOETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 inative, and wrote some good lines over the signature of 
 "Finella." She had a good education, and was pos- 
 sessed of fascinating manners, though her writings were 
 plaintive and sad. Mrs. M. C. Sparks, widow of Jared 
 Sparks, and daughter of Hon. Nathaniel Silsbee of Sa- 
 lem, "printed, not published," a volume of verse, enti- 
 tled " Hymns, Home, Harvard," in 1883. Wilson 
 Flagg, the Essex county Thoreau, spent many of his 
 early years in Beverly, and wrote several odes there about 
 1835. He afterward contributed to the Boston -Weekly 
 Magazine. He was son of Isaac Flagg, an old school- 
 master of Beverly, and died at Cambridge in 1884, at 
 the age of seventy-eight. Mrs. Harriet Fowler, who 
 is now very aged, and her daughter Miss Harriet Put- 
 nam Fowler, both of Danvers, have contributed poems 
 to the papers. Miss Fowler has also published "Three 
 Smoking Husbands," a little work on "Vegetarianism," 
 and short stories. Rev. George B." Cheever, who was 
 born at Hallowell, Me., in 1807, and graduated at Bow- 
 doin College in 1825, was aministerin Salem, publish- 
 ing, while there, the "American Common-Place Book 
 of Poetry" in 1829, and "Studies in Poetry" in 1830. 
 John Barnard, a native of Newburyport, where he now 
 lives upward of eighty years of age, wrote over the sig- 
 nature of "The Rambler" quite a number of meritorious 
 verses in his younger years, which were published in 
 the New Orleans Delta, and other periodicals. The 
 late venerable Rev. Lothrop Withington, and also his 
 grandson of the same name, wrote considerably and 
 well for the Newburyport and other papers. The late 
 
OTHEB POETS. 199 
 
 John B. Derby, a native of Salem, born about 1808, 
 was poet of the class in Bowdoin College with which he 
 graduated, read law in his native place, and wrote con- 
 siderably in measure. He married, but his wife lived 
 only a year, and his mind became clouded. Evidence 
 of insanity runs all through his poems. He was for a 
 while a patient in the McLean Asylum, with but little 
 benefit. In 1834, he had a sickness, suffering greatly 
 for a year, and losing temporarily the use of his legs. 
 He afterward lived as a hermit in the wilds of New 
 Hampshire, where he wrote a volume of poems, entitled 
 "Musings of a Recluse," which was published in 1837. 
 One of his poems, " A Dream, "ends as follows : — 
 
 "Oh ! let me spread my wings for flight, 
 From pain and sorrow flee away; 
 Escape the shadows of the night, 
 And soar to realms of endless day." 
 
 Solomon Moulton, who was born at Lynn in 1 808, and 
 died of consumption in 1827, wrote some plaintive lines 
 for The Weekly Mirror over the signature of "Lillie." 
 Another of Lynn's writers is Joseph Warren Nye, an 
 aged gentleman, who has done more writing for occa- 
 sions than any other poet in the county. He has pub- 
 lished a volume of poems. Gen. Henry K. Oliver, 
 who died at Salem in 1885, at the age of eighty-four, 
 wrote considerable verse for the local press, and Gen. 
 F. W. Lander wrote for the Atlantic Monthly. John 
 Osborne Sargent, brother of Epes Sargent, born at 
 Gloucester in 181 1, now residing winters in New. York 
 City and summers at Lenox, Mass., well known as "The 
 
200 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Berkshire Tanner," has written both prose and poetry. 
 Rev. John Prince, who was born at Beverly in 1820, 
 and now resides in Washington, D. C, has written con- 
 siderable poetry, and published, in 1845, at Essex, a 
 volume of verse, entitled "Rural Lays and Sketches, and 
 Other Poems," and the journal called the Essex Cabinet. 
 He became a Universalist clergyman, and preached at Es- 
 sex, South Hingham, and South Danvers, now Peabody, 
 in Massachusetts, and at Meredith Bridge, now Laconia, 
 in New Hampshire. He served several years in both 
 houses of the Massachusetts legislature. He removed 
 to Washington in 1862, and was for many years chief 
 of a division in the Treasury. He was also a lecturer, 
 and published discourses upon theological subjects and 
 temperance. He has been a contributor to the jour- 
 nals of Essex county, and of Boston and Washington, 
 having been for some years the regular Washington 
 correspondent of the Boston Commonwealth. In an 
 ode written for the consecration of a cemetery, he says 
 of the dead, 
 
 "With folded hands across the breast, 
 
 With lips that move no more at will, 
 
 And features calm, — they here shall rest, 
 
 With upward look, serene and still." 
 
 Mr. Prince's daughter, Mrs. Mary Prince Story of 
 Essex, has also written some poems for the Boston Com- 
 monwealth. Miss Elizabeth H. Whittier, sister of our 
 Quaker poet, was the author of several short poems. 
 She died at Amesbury September 3, 1864. Mrs. Su- 
 san Frances" Clapp, wife of Rev. Dexter Clapp, pastor 
 
OTHEB FOETS. 201 
 
 of the East church in Salem, and daughter of Judge 
 Preston of Bangor, Me., wrote some good poetry for the 
 Monthly Religious Magazine, Salem Gazette, Chris- 
 tian Examiner and Monthly Miscellany. She died in 
 Salem, of a cancer, June 21, 1859, at the age of forty- 
 two, and her remains were laid to rest in Mount Auburn. 
 Joshua Danforth Robinson, who resided in Newbury- 
 port some years, being engaged in mercantile pursuits, 
 possessed genius as a writer, but produced very little. His 
 principal poem, entitled "The Little Boy that Died," 
 found its way to every heart. It was first published in 
 the Newburyport Daily Union, anonymously, and was, 
 by many papers, into which it was copied, attributed to 
 the pen of Dr. Chalmers. Two of the stanzas are as 
 follows : — 
 
 "I am all alone in my chamber now, 
 
 And the midnight hour is near, 
 And the fagot's crack and the clock's dull tick 
 
 Are the only sounds I hear; 
 And over my soul in its solitude 
 
 Sweet feelings of sadness glide ; 
 For my heart and my eyes are full when I think 
 
 Of the little boy that died. 
 
 "We shall all go home to our Father's house — 
 
 To our Father's house in the skies, 
 Where the hope of our souls shall have no blight, 
 
 And our love no broken ties; 
 We shall roam on the banks of the River of Peace, 
 
 And bathe in its blissful tide; 
 And one of the joys of our heaven shall be 
 
 The little boy that died." 
 
202 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Mr. Robinson removed to Texas about i860, to en- 
 gage in agriculture, and, with several members of his 
 family, died of the cholera at San Antonio, in the sum- 
 mer of 1866. Mrs. Elizabeth W. Chapman of Row- 
 ley, now an aged lady, has written much for the local 
 papers, generally on religious subjects. Hon. Robert 
 Rantoul, jr., of Beverly also wrote verse. Mrs. Eliz- 
 abeth Cynthia' Ellsworth of Boston, a native of Es- 
 sex county, who died at Boston in 1883, wrote hymns 
 of recognized merit. James F. "Colman published a 
 volume of verse at Boston in 1846, entitled "The Isl- 
 and Bride, and Other Poems." Edwin' Jocelyn, a 
 native of Danvers, and a school teacher in Salem, wrote 
 poetry for the Salem Register in 185 1. Rev. Varnum 
 Lincoln of Andover has written several poems for the 
 Christian Leader. Eben W. Kimball, Esq., of Salem, 
 a lawyer, wrote poetry for the Salem Advertiser forty 
 years ago over the name of "Topaz," as also did Daniel 
 R.'Beckford of Boston, formerly of Salem, over the 
 signature of " Amethyst." The late Gilbert Conant, 
 a native and resident of Ipswich, wrote a number of 
 poems on natural subjects. Mrs. Augusta Harvey 
 Worthen of Lynn, formerly of Danvers, and originally 
 from New Hampshire has written a number of poems. 
 The following are extracts from her pretty lines enti- 
 tled "The Cup Moss :"— 
 
 "These tiny red cups, this brilliant array 
 On this sober gray rock, what means this display? 
 Is a sideboard set for a humming bird? 
 Do these vases wait till his wine is poured? 
 
OTHEB POETS. 203 
 
 "Here is one will hold just a single drop, 
 And a rim like a rose wreath encircles the top; 
 Does Queen Mab herself come here to sup? 
 And is this her dainty drinking cup? 
 
 "They never affect the coquettish toss 
 Of their velvety cousin, the soft meadow moss; 
 But they're prettier than even the moss that grows 
 'Round the slender form of the pale moss rose. 
 
 "No pleasure, think you, the gray rock knows, 
 Nor pride in the midst of its stern repose, 
 When, though south winds whisper of softer rest, 
 Clings closer the moss to its granite breast? 
 Does it not willingly, gladly impart 
 The enduring strength of its brave old heart? 
 
 "... A blossoming wild rose, one morn, 
 Hung over the moss with its sweet perfume 
 Till the pale little creature caught its bloom. 
 
 "A day and a night, and then it was gone; 
 But the joy in the heart of the moss lives on, 
 And nothing henceforth shall break the spell, 
 For it caught the hue it loved so well." 
 
 Mrs. Sarah C. Mayo, while residing at Gloucester, 
 wrote poetry. She was born in 18 19, and died in 1848. 
 Josiah F. Kimball of Lynn, who died in Boston Feb- 
 ruary 3, 1889, at the age of sixty-seven, was a native of 
 Ipswich, and a writer of poetry on miscellaneous sub- 
 jects. His efforts were contributed to the Semi- Weekly 
 Reporter, Newburyport Herald, Commercial Bulletin, 
 Lynn Transcript, Salem Gazette, Boston Common- 
 
204 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 wealth, Boston Traveller, Boston Herald, Bay State, 
 and other papers. He was a printer by trade, and was 
 publisher of the Essex County Wliig, which was soon 
 afterward called Lynn News. Col. Thomas Wentworth 
 1 Higginson was born at Cambridge, Mass., in 1823, 
 graduated at Harvard College in 1841, and has written 
 poetry from time to time throughout his life. He was 
 ordained pastor of the First Congregational church in 
 Newburyport in 1847, an d on account of his anti-slavery 
 preaching had to leave after a few years' service. He 
 afterward preached at Worcester, and left the ministry 
 in 1858. He was very prominent in the anti-slavery 
 conflict, and served in the army during the Rebellion. 
 He finally devoted himself to literature, publishing sev- 
 eral volumes of essays, history, and biography. He has 
 just issued a volume of miscellaneous poems, entitled 
 "The Afternoon Landscape." Col. Joseph Warren 
 •Fabens, who was born at Salem in 182 1, and was 
 United States consul at Cayenne, South America, for 
 several years, wrote a number of poems, which were 
 published in 1887 in a volume entitled "The Last Cigar, 
 and Other Poems," with portrait, and a biographical 
 preface by Julia Ward Howe. He wrote and published 
 in prose "The Camel Hunt," "Life on the Isthmus," 
 and other books. In his youth he wrote verses for the 
 Salem papers, namely, the Observer, Register, and Ga- 
 zette. Col. Fabens was an earnest supporter of the 
 project to annex the Island of Santo Domingo to the 
 United States. He died at Elizabeth, N. J., in 1875. 
 Mrs. Antoinette Purington of Lynn has published 
 
OTHEB POETS. 205 
 
 a number of poems. Austin Phelps, who was professor 
 of sacred rhetoric in the theological seminary at An- 
 dover from 1848 to 1866, is the author of a number of 
 good hymns, and compiler of several hymn books. 
 Miss Rebecca Ingersoll Davis of East Haverhill has 
 written considerable poetry. She is also a prose writer, 
 and has published two volumes, entitled "Gleanings from 
 Merrimac Valley," containing poems and historical and 
 biographical sketches, which have .become quite popu- 
 lar. G. L. Streeter of Salem wrote some creditable 
 stanzas for the Bos/on Transcript 'in 1866 ; and H. B. 
 Sargent wrote poems for the Atlantic Monthly during 
 the war of the Rebellion. Dr. William H." Briggs, 
 brother of Mrs. Caroline A. Mason, is another native 
 writer of poetry. In his younger years he wrote for the 
 Salem Register, and later for Arthur's Honie Gazette. 
 The late George Innis, a printer of Newburyport, was 
 also among our writers. Another was Mrs. Mary Ann 
 Conant, daughter of John Friend, and wife of Prof. 
 George Conant. Her writings, both prose and verse, 
 were much admired. She was born at Andover in 1829, 
 was reared at Boxford, and taught school in George- 
 town, Mass., and in Buffalo, N. Y. She assisted her hus- 
 band in his school at Coshocton, Ohio, and at Alexander, 
 N. Y., where she died, of heart disease, February 18, 
 1883, at the age of fifty-three. Washington Very 
 of Salem, brother of Rev. Jones Very, was a writer of 
 verses. Reverends Samuel Gilman, William Parsons 
 Lunt, Chandler Robbins, and Samuel D. Robbins, 
 wrote hymns. James Lawrence Wales, who died in 
 
206 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 Groveland some years since, wrote a number of poems 
 for the Georgetown Advocate. Miss Mary Abigail 
 Dodge of Hamilton, the "Gail Hamilton" of literature, 
 has also written some meritorious verses. She was 
 daughter of James B. and Hannah (Stanwood) Dodge, 
 and was born in Hamilton. S. Edwin Ireson, Esq., 
 who was for several years city solicitor of Lynn, where 
 he was born in 1830, wrote several poems. He grad- 
 uated at Harvard College in 1853, and died in Lynn 
 about fifteen years ago. He had talent as a writer, 
 which his frail constitution would not permit him to 
 cultivate. He contributed to many periodicals, generally 
 anonymously. Mrs. Ann E. Porter of Newburyport 
 has written poetry for many years. John T. Devereux 
 of Salem published a collection of poems, which he had 
 contributed to periodicals. Edward' Johnson and 
 David N. Johnson, both of Lynn, have written poetry, 
 the latter being the author of "Sketches of Lynn," and 
 a translator of German poetry. Miss Anne G. Hale 
 had two brothers, George Henry Hale, born at New- 
 buryport in 1 83 1, dying there in 1850, and Edward 
 Hale, born in 1835, dying in 1854, who wrote some 
 graceful lines, the latter publishing his poems in the 
 Boston Museum, Knickerbocker Magazine, Christian 
 Witness, and other periodicals. Joseph A. Batchel- 
 der, Esq., of Middleton, wrote a number of poems 
 many years ago. Allen Peabody of Wenham was the 
 " Bard of Enon" a score of years ago. George E. 
 Emery of Lynn is a prolific writer, not largely of po- 
 etry, but with merit. Charles Stuart" Osgood, Esq., 
 
 1 
 
OTHEB POETS. 207 
 
 born at Salem in 1839, register of deeds there, has writ- 
 ten a few poems for the Bosto?i Transcript. George 
 Bancroft 'Griffith of Woodfords, Me., born at New- 
 buryport in 1841, and educated at Dummer Academy, 
 has been a contributor to the Youth's Co?npanion and 
 St. Nicholas, and to the religious press. Isaac Basset 
 Choate, formerly of Lynn, and later of New York City? 
 and Akron, Ohio, wrote for the Salem Gazette in 1866, 
 and still contributes verses to the papers. N. Allen 
 Lindsey of Marblehead has written poetry for the Bos- 
 ton Transcript and Independent. Miss Marcia M. 
 Selman is another of the Marblehead writers. Mrs. 
 Emily Shaw Forman and Joseph A. Steele are two 
 more of Lynn's poets, and Mrs. Mary A. Parsons of 
 Lynnfield Centre has written some poems. Miss Emily 
 E. Poor of Ipswich, a native of Andover, has written 
 some good poetry for the Portland Transcript, Chris- 
 tian Register, Congregationalist, Massachusetts Teacher 
 and other periodicals. In her war poem, entitled " An 
 Appeal to the North," occur the following lines : — 
 
 " Men of, the North, arise ! shake off your palsied dreams, 
 Ye're sleeping o'er volcanic fires, whose fierce and lurid gleams 
 E'en now are flashing from the earth, which rocks beneath your 
 
 tread, 
 And the rumbling of its pent-up wrath fills every heart with 
 
 dread. 
 
 Awake, fair Northern women, nor deem it not your sphere 
 To be brave and earnest for the right, nor the name 'strong- 
 minded' fear; 
 
208 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 No true woman can be other than pure, gentle and refined, 
 However brave her actions, however strong her mind ! 
 
 O patriots, Christians, parents, men ! no longer sleep supine, 
 For your country, God, humanity need those strong, brave 
 hearts of thine ! " 
 
 Thomas H.' Ronayne, Esq., now a lawyer of New 
 York City, was formerly a resident of Lynn, and while 
 there wrote some poems for The Pilot. Dr. Freder- 
 ick K. Crosby, a dentist of Lynn, practising- there in 
 1868 and 1869, wrote poetry for the Lynn Transcript, 
 Lynn Reporter, Stewart's Quarterly, and Appleto?i's 
 Journal. He was born at Newton, Mass., in 1845, an d 
 died in 1874 at San Diego, Cal., whither he had gone 
 for his health. He graduated at the Philadelphia Den- 
 tal College in 1867, and on leaving Lynn practised for 
 a while at St. John, N. B. A volume of his poems was 
 printed for private distribution, at Boston in 1876, with 
 the title "Into Light, and Other Poems." Henry 
 Mighill" Nelson of Georgetown, Amanda S.' George 
 of Ipswich, and S. A. 'Co-burn and Miss Harriette O. 
 ' Nelson, both of Haverhill, wrote verse some years ago. 
 A volume of poetry, entitled " The Ruler's Daughter, 
 and Other Poems," by Caroline R.' Derby of Salem 
 was "printed, not published," at Salem in 1877. She was 
 the daughter of E. Hersey Derby. She also published 
 a novel, entitled " Salem ; or a Tale of the Seventeenth 
 Century," and a series of tales in Harper's Maga- 
 zine, under the nom de plume of " D. R. Castleton." 
 Mrs. Ruth M. Webster of West Boxford is another 
 
OTHER POETS. 209 
 
 writer of poetry. E. F. Merrill of Lynn wrote for the 
 Boston Transcript in 1877. * Charles E. Hoag, Esq., 
 of Peabody, a lawyer, and the editor of the Peabody 
 Reporter and the American Citizen, is also a writer of 
 poetry. Clara F/Berry of North Andover published 
 considerable poetry in 1870; and in 1877 James Da- 
 vis, Esq., judge of the police court of Gloucester, is- 
 sued a little volume, entitled "Pleasant Water," a song 
 of the sea and shore. Arthur Sherburne 'Hardy, 
 born in Andover August 13, 1847, professor of mathe- 
 matics in Dartmouth College, has published a poem 
 entitled "Francesca de Rimini." He was in school at 
 Neuchatel, Switzerland, during the twelfth and thir- 
 teenth years of his life, and in 1863 travelled through 
 Spain. On his return home he graduated from Phil- 
 lips' Academy, was one year at Amherst College, and 
 graduated at the United States Military Academy in 
 1869. He became instructor at West Point, and after- 
 ward entered upon his duties at Hanover. He is also a 
 novelist. Mrs. E. G. Lake of Salem wrote poetry for 
 the papers many years ago. Miss Charlotte E. Ricker 
 of Topsfield, afterward of Peabody, has written several 
 good poems. Rev. Josiah Greene Willis, who was 
 born in 1853, becoming a journalist, and afterward 
 pastor of the Congregational church at Lanesville, in 
 Gloucester, now being settled at Dana, Mass., has 
 contributed verses to the Springfield Republican and 
 other prominent periodicals. The following is a selec- 
 tion from his popular poem entitled "Golden Rule Re- 
 ligion:" — 
 14 
 
2 1 o TOE TS OF ESSEX CO UNTY. 
 
 "The creeds are big with theologic lore 
 From men whose knowledge was a wondrous store 
 Of things concerning God's most holy writ 
 Which doth transcend all human skill or wit. 
 But life is real, in both act and speech — 
 'Tis hard to practise, though with ease we preach; 
 We have the sum of all creeds understood 
 If we love God, and live for doing good. 
 
 ;: Do we the worthy poor both clothe and feed, 
 Ministering to their discouragement and need ? 
 We know it is a blest and great employ, 
 To speak and act toward giving others joy : 
 What hallowed years the gentle Saviour spent 
 As he among the poor and lonely went ! 
 That piety whose power none can refute 
 Makes glad the suffering and the destitute. 
 
 "The Golden Rule, not for God's Day alone 
 When earthly saints assemble at his throne; 
 Not merely for the church, within whose walls 
 The preacher's voice in prayer or sermon calls. 
 But this rule ought to guide us, day and night; 
 It is divine — we know that it is right, 
 Whatever be our church, or names, or creeds, 
 May it control our language and our deeds !" 
 
 Mrs. Katie D. Kilpatrick, formerly Miss May of Lynn, 
 now residing in Beaverhead Valley, Montana, has written 
 several poems for the local newspapers. From that 
 entitled "Summer Morning" are extracted the following 
 stanzas : — 
 
OTHER POETS. 211 
 
 "The sunlight falls on the bee, 
 And he sips 
 As he tips 
 The nectarian flasks, 
 Till it tasks 
 E'en himself to return o'er the lea. 
 
 "The sunlight falls at my door, 
 And I look 
 From the book 
 Of earth's wonderful grace 
 To His face 
 In whose presence is light evermore." 
 
 Clarence W. Clapp of Danvers, formerly of Topsfield, 
 has written much verse. George F/Hartson of Sa- 
 lem and Agnes Fielding of Beverly contributed poetry 
 to the Salem Gazette in 1878. Miss Annie B. Bensel, 
 also of Lynn, sister of James Berry Bensel, has written 
 a few poems. Miss Emily Greene Wetherbee, a school 
 teacher in Lawrence, has written poems for the Boston 
 Journal, Boston Globe, Boston Transcript, and Journal 
 of Education. George W. Jones of Salem has pub- 
 lished poetry. His "Jupiter Tonans" is as follows : — 
 
 " O, the naughty baby, — we had had to put her 
 In the corner till she'd promise to be good. 
 
 With her flaxen hair awry, 
 
 Angry tear-drops in each eye, 
 There the wilful little rebel stood." ' 
 
 " Silence for a moment; then she slowly turned around, 
 Looked at us, and tossed her little head — 
 'This time you have had your way; 
 Just wait till another day, 
 Then we'll see,' was all the baby said." 
 
212 POETS OF ESSEX CO UNTY. 
 
 Frank Roland Whitten of Lynn, who was born there 
 in 1863, has done considerable literary work, having 
 published poems in the Portlci7id Transcript and local 
 papers. The following is his poem entitled "Flood- 
 Tide :— 
 
 "I hear the rising waters where they urge 
 The raging, noisy and tumultuous surge 
 
 To climb the sandy reaches of the shore. 
 The tide is up, and miles of marshes low 
 Are buried 'neath resistless overflow, 
 
 While ocean chants with hoarse, victorious roar. 
 
 " Each pool and rivulet grows broad and free, 
 Swells and throbs high responsive to the sea. 
 
 No sound is heard save that melodious surf, 
 In undertone sonorous and sublime, — 
 That changeless voice, as old as earth or time — 
 Where leagues of ocean smite the trembling turf. 
 
 "And like those restless waves methinks is life, 
 Filling the world with fierce and noisy strife. 
 
 Unconquered, yet unconquering are we, 
 Beating in vain the walls of our desire — 
 Now hushed in peace, now frantic in our ire — 
 
 Man's life is strange and awful, like the sea." 
 
 Miss Annie F. Burnham, formerly of Georgetown, is 
 the author of some fine lines. She has written many 
 juvenile articles for the Youth's Companion, Wide 
 Awake, and other periodicals ; one of her little poems, 
 entitled '-Resting," which she composed several years 
 ago, being as follows : — 
 
OTHEE POETS. 213 
 
 " * I want to be holded and rested.' 
 
 little one ! do you see 
 
 How my thought leaps into expression, 
 As I echo your innocent plea? — 
 
 How I come unto my Father, 
 As you come unto me ? 
 
 " 'I want to be holded and rested;' 
 
 1 am tired in heart and brain; 
 Sick with a nameless sadness, 
 
 Weary with life's old pain 
 That, hushed into silence, awakens 
 And cries in my soul again. 
 
 " I bless the dear child for her lesson, 
 
 I follow the footsteps she trod ; 
 Not songs, but the infinite Silence, 
 
 His love in my heart shed abroad. 
 I have crept, in my weariness, closer 
 
 To the restful heart of my God." 
 
 Miss Lida Lewis Watson, now of Boston, formerly of 
 Haverhill, where most of her life has been spent, has 
 written a large number of poems for the Boston Globe. 
 Miss Henrietta E. Dow and Miss Bessie Bland are 
 two of Lynn's younger writers of poetry. George F. 
 Barry, youngest son of Darius Barry, and brother of 
 Eugene Barry, born at Lynn in 1859, had fine literary 
 tastes, and contributed poetry to the Lynn Transcript. 
 He died at Lynn in 1883, of malarial fever. Miss Ida 
 G. Rust of Topsfield has written several poems which 
 are meritorious. J. Henry Dwyer is another of Lynn's 
 young writers. Miss Nellie L. Saunders, a young lady 
 of Lanesville, Gloucester, has written a number of poems 
 
214 POETS OF ESSEX COUNTY. 
 
 for the Gloucester and Salem papers. Miss Helen S. 
 - Barnjum, a young lady of Lynnfield, has written some 
 pretty things. Miss Ethel M. Ryder of Salem has 
 displayed considerable talent in writing poetry. Her 
 literary name is " Maude." Misses Cora E. Grover of 
 Salem and Irene Chapltn Tyler of Georgetown have 
 also written and published some creditable poems. 
 
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