V ,^^ \> ♦ > * o A > ' ' , c ^ ^ ■s^ %. 3 :v'«-' >^ .^x^"' A-'" ■'/•. ^N^ ,A^ .^^^ •J »l O ' \N .-O?-' .^•^^' , V 1 « « ■'o. '0 >^.yr?^ '-* *.- >" ^\ Ci /.. •''^^ ■-■ f) , ^^ V V '^..^' .s-^. .^^' ,N' * S^% 0" \0 °^. .^^' "oo^ o-^ -ni '^l. ^ c . X * <.■ ' * cP' ty ■ o 0^ -- • K 'a ■ ' s " '-.;<■ C' -f»^ r . «> SI «, % .^■ »<. "^^ v^' ^ vOo^ -^' <^ ^/^s£^. ci- ''» ■ t< "S ■ i kO o. ,0-^ '^O %/"„>" vX^' o V c*^'^ '' °- "■->• a\ * .^' S' -s- > •/>. ^^. ,^^' ,>X> 'c / ^ (, ^ c- •^ .-O" 0^ "a -^ >^/^^ . .0 .x^^- "c*-. %^^ v\ 0^' s . \ i c >^' ■-^ fj UXTER PU6K... ^ w 2ind M Other ^'^ Poems, I^. J^. ]VI^VFiTni3S[. L. A. Martin, ^HUXTEf^ * PUSK!^ AND OTHER POEMS. By L. A. MA^fnrf Author of "Hallowe'en and Other Poems," "Random Flashes," Etc. f Nulla jxtlma sine pulvere. Published by The Good Way Publishing House, chillicothe, mo. 1895. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 18i)4. By L. A. HARTIN, in tlie office of tiie Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. (' . . . Dedication ... To Mu Good Friend, jn. f. (iilcl?pisr of Butte City, Montana, Formerly Editor of the "Chillicothe Constitution" and County School Commissioner of Livinjrstoii County, Mo.. THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED witl"! the kindest regards aqd compiin^erits of The Author. We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, From mornin' sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin auld lang syne. —Burns . . . Preface . . . This volame contains nearly all the poems of my school days that were left out of "HallGwe'en and Other Poems." It was the intention to publish this work first, bat on account of a difficulty with the prin- ter to whom the work was let, it was necessarily de- layed. There is little need of any Preface to the first parts, for to many of the pieces I have appended notes which take its place. Mo3t of the pieces are more local than those contained in my previous publications. In many of them are allusions to places, persons and incidents of our own county and state. 1 do not think this can detract aught from the general interest, — For why should not ^Missouri te the land Of inspired song and happy minstrelsy, When every heart is but a smouldering brand Of burning passion, — throbbing wild and free To burst in song, and breathe from chords ol fire A strain immortal from her unstruck lyre? The principal story in this book, Huxter Puck, is divided into five parts. Huxter Puck was a Missouri boy, bora in this county some few miles North of Chil- liuothe. As he was living not more than a quarter of a century ag'% some of our older inhabitants may doubt- less remember him. The first three parts of "his Epic" I wrote while attanding school at Columbia, Mo. 1 finished the third part in the spring of 1888. At that time the whole school, from President down to Janitor, were going wild on thi "Germ Theory of Disease " Vi. PREFACE. The incidious and festive microbe, was a subject of great interest in all the departments. At some of the fash- ionable churches, the danger of his presence in the Com- munion Cup was discussed, and preventive measures recommended. Dozens of sermons were preached against kissing, for the reason that it was a. means of spreading the germs. As the)' claimed some originality in their ideas, local pride compelled me to show them, that even so much as twenty years back, an uneducated boy from Livingston county was familiar with the whole theory, and practiced a remedy more effective than any which they explained, or which Science has yet discov- ered. The last two parts, with some alterations and corrections in the first three, have been written since I left school. Many parts of his story no doubt may give offense to some who are over-sensitive, but when the \»hole is read and considered, the careful Reader will not fail to find a meaning in his Philosophy, worthy "to point the moral of a tale" to the Missouri reader, he cannot fail to be of great interest, who will doubtless close his story with a sigh of pity for the brave way- ward heart who, despite all his errors, cherished a patriotic love for his Native State, beneath whose Blue Grass Sod he now sleeps, hard by the beautiful city he so tenderly loved. The Author. . . . Contents . . . BOYHOOD VERSES. ^^^^ The Student to the Star 11 Books 14 Two Scenes IS Take this Letter to My Sister 16 The Rose and the Violet 16 The Snow 17 A Fountain 18 The Drops of Time 19 A New Tombstone 23 Emerson's Essays 25 Love is a Tear 26 The Irish Exile's Adieu 26 OCCASIONAL VERSES. Some Words of Love are Spoken, Too 29 Ludus Ante Operem 31 The G. A. R. Toast 32 A Picture of Life 35 The Story of Home 36 Adieu to an Old Friend 37 Shipwrecked 38 In Memory of the Dead 40 Missouri 42 A Laug-h 44 For Ellen's Sake 45 Auburn and Gold 47 To Hattie 49 Vlll. CONTENTS. To Rose 52 To Ivora 53 QUAINT VERSES. Ha3'seed • 57 Wisdom Versus Vanity 58 The Temperance Society 59 Long- Ears -. 62 Ag-ainst the Grain 63 The Mule's Ear 63 Never County Your Chickens in the Eg"g" . . 65 THE FARMER'S ROMANCE 67 THE SEVEN WOOERS 79 THE VALE OF ARCOVA 87 HUXTER PUCK Part 1 99 Part II 115 Part III 135 Part IV 167 Part V ^ . . 189 BoyI?oob Derses. There are things of which I may not speak ! There are dreams that cannot die ! There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor upon the cheek, And a mist before the eye, x\nd the words of that fatal song Come over me like a chill: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." LOXGFELLOAV. THE STUDENT TO THE STARJ Oh star, that in your sphere doth shine ! Oh how thou'rt in my soul enshrined ! Oh what a gulf between us lay ! Oh how I wish I found the way, That I might soar on pinions bright To thy abode of starry light ; And leave this frigid earth bo cold. With its dull wildness — sere — and old; And come to thee, my lovely star, Where all thy starry beauties are ! Note 1. The poems of this division were written before 18fi4. Most of them were written and read as srhool compositions. It was the custom, tliat occasionally eacli pupil should write a composition. I never could write a decent prose composition, but in verse I could do fairly well guided by the jingle of the rhyme. The meter seemed to be a sort of measure, by wliich I could gauge the budding idea and not let it overflow. During this time of my life, I was a diligent read- er of books, but to my sorrow 1 never found a sufficient supply. At home during my boyhood the only books I liad opportunity to read were one of t'arrollton's novels and Mooney's History of Ireland, tlie latter work I very nearly uien)orized, and the speeches of O'Connell, Curran, Grattan and Sheil were as familiar to me as some of the melodies of Moore, wliich woj'o contained in that work. Jiowever I borrowed books of every one and read them with avidity. My first benefactor iti this regard was J{ev. .James IJilbcrt of this county, then plain ".Tim Gilbert" as kindly liearted a man as ever was hero in thegreatdramaof unnoted human generousity, not found in books. It seemed his delight to always be urging boys to have aspirations ui)- ward, and seemed never to weary in giving them the benefit of his suggestions and lielp. Tlie first poems lever studied were Adelaide Proctor's. They avi'olce a desii'e in me to write verse, and from that time I studied poetry with the greatest interest. _ In 1880 Dr. J. B. Free- man, now of Wheeliiig, Mo., loaned me a large illustrated edition of Byron's poems. I returned it shortly, and on his asking me how much of it I had read, was suiprised when I told him I read it through. On talking with me, lie discovered that I had read it very carefully, lie then gave me another book to read and told me to be always free to help myself to his lilirary. I availed myself to the fullest extent of his kindness, and owe him a lastingdi'bt of gratitude 12 HUXTER PUCK To me thou art a guiding lamp; My aspirations never damp, When I to thee do turn my sight; And see thy silvery sweetness bright. And think, what vast and boundless space Beholds the beauties of thy face? And yet, thy humble sweetness shines In all thy might and power sublime, As though thou wert the feeble glow. That's seen, from this dark orb. below; While all thy splendor's glorious tint Is seen throughout the firmament; The blue arched vault hath not a nook But where is seen thy humble look; fm-liis iiilerest in nie. :ni spec'ially deserves mention, Miss Katie Wright, now Mrs, Joseph Watson of Chillicothe. She taught our district school in 18"7, and by a great deal of coaxing, induced me to .study English Grammar, a study against which T had a natural prejudice which I have not yet over come. However under her instructions I did very well, for I went "tlirough the book" as tJie saying is in one term. She taught me t he rules of Prosody, and sliowed me tlie beauties of verse. This gave anew impetus to my Hiyming aspiraticms. Other teachers that I <-aiinof help but to kindly remember here, are F. K. Thompson and C. 11. .1. Mclnturir of Chillicothe, JIo.: M, F. Patter.son of Hannibal, Mo., and I. E. Wil.son of Mexico, Mo. To each I owe a debt of gratitude, and tlie verdict of mature manhood on their work must be, 'Each did his duty well." AND OTHER POEMS. 13 Still sweetl}' smiling; but what might Is veiled behind thy feeble light? Of thee I think, and, all my dreams Do wander with thy humble beams. 1 hail thee when the orb of day Has passed beyond the Western ray; I welcome thy sweet loving smile, As friend, returned from long exile. My soul doth oft its glances cast To thy abode in boundless vast, And, as its glances towards thee linger My soul and thee do intermingle; And like thee it doth strive to wear Thy humble smile in joy or care; Which veils the greatness of thy place Behind a kind and humble face; And like thee, smile the same on all, That dwell in cot or kingly hall; As thou in humble radiance far. Shin's' t, just the same on monarch's car, As on the squalid hovels low Of starving mortals here below. Let me thee ever imitate; Thou be my teacher in this state ! Then no ambitious craving vain Shall in my aspirations reign, For thou in humble glances mild Will teach thy own devoted child; And show the dangers that do lay Upon life's vain and vaunting way. Oh star, to thee I'll turn my gaze When treading strange Ambition's ways ! 14 nUXTER PUCK Then send thy humble glances nigh. And all its dangers swift will fly ; Thus watch me ever where 1 dwell, My humble star, now fare thee well ! BOOKS. In books, there is a pleasure, — The brightest purest treasure, That e'er is known; Whose beauties are as gay. As the rose-bloom's blush in May, When full blown. In books, there is a friend, That'll change not to the end. Of our life; Ijut is ever kind and dear. And is ever close and near. In all strife. In books, there is a guide. Who will e'er be by our side, When we roam ; And will show where dangers lay, In our paths, where e'er we stray,- Far from home. In books, we see the place, Where the soul doth love to trace. Golden waves; AND OTHER POEMS. 15 And the thoughts of all the great, Who have passed from this low state. To their ffraves. TWO SCENES. Two scenes in everj^ act appears, The opening and the close. The Lilac and the Orchis die, Before blooms the bright Rose. The Rose's bloom in beauty shines, Alas, but for a day ! Then withering are the blossoms sweet And fading fast away. The gay spring breaks with all its bloom Of radiant flowers, so fair, But soon the frigid autumn's frost Sears all its beauties rare. A noble soul on earth is seen With warm heart, true and brave, But look again, where is he now? Alas, in the cold grave. O transient life how fleeting soon Is thy wild drama's call ! The heart begins to love their scenes When the dred curtains fall. And thus since Earth's high primal birch, Thy fleeting drama's close, why clothe with such beauties sweet, That here is so short repose? 16 HUXTER PUCK TAKE THIS LETTER TO MY SISTER !' April 18—1880. Take this letter to my sister, She a mother was to me; Tenderly her hands did guide me, O'er youth's early troubled sea. . Care was hers from early childhood. Years of toil and weary pain ; Oh, may time bring happiest treasure, That her toil be not in v'ain. Take the letter, it will please her, Poorly wrote and feebly wrought ; But a sisters eye can fathom Every shadow of a thought. THE ROSE AND THE VIOLET. May 18—1881. I sought a flower, it was a Rose, For pride was in my heart, And aught, with pride might fain oppose The lofty spirit's art. Notes. Tlio above verses I find among my papers in a blank loaf of an old scrateli book dated as above. Tliey liave no general interest, but I cannot omit tliem from this collection, for tlie reason that gratitude cannot jjive sufficient tril)ute to the one to whom they are addressed. 1 owe to lier wliatever 1 have accomplislied in life. She was ever my faithful and unfailing friend. I have fully realized tlie great blessings of a sister's love, and must class it as one of the sublimest attributes of that faithful, devoted being called woman. AND OTHER POEMS. 17 I searched the vale, no Rose 1 found, With gleaming gorgeous glow; But by a low forsaken mound I spied a Violet low. At first my heart did scorn its smile, So lowly did it seem ; But in its modest smile did glow A radiant tender beam, seized its stalk, so small, so frail, 1 kissed its fragrant cheek ; And pride to tender love did quail, I loved it 'cause 'twas weak. Since then, I've thought, if beauty's eye Should scorn the pompous wile; What captured hearts would round her lie, Won by her gentle smile. THE SNOW. 3 The snow flakes fall slowly, the white drifts are strewn, 'Tis a still eve of winter. As sunset of ruin. When Havoc has paused and rage has all flown. Stilled is all breathing and hushed every tone. Yet Havoc has reigned, and his dire blasts have seared. The verdure, the roses, to lone hearts endeared. And now he recks sorrow to see this sad ruin. So where the flowers moulder the snowdrifts are strewn. Note 3. No poet evor lived that did not sonic time in his life, write about the snow. I never wislied to raal in their midst, for it was evident we eanie for a purpose. Jennie's mother asked us wliat we wanted. I bravely asked her if she would give me Jennie to bemy wife wh(;ii the Old Year came back. T)ie laughter that follow- ed was uproarous. I was perfectly disconcerted, but the kind woman answered, certainly, and told us to go and play. That was my first engagement. Made in good faith, and that Old Year was long looked for in expectancy, for it was some years after that I learned the fal- sity of my theory, and in reminiscent sadness sighed for tht^ year whicli never came back. AND OTHER POEMS. 21 Its tale more strange and thrilling wild, Then e'er wrought fiction has supplied, Of awful deeds: When first the bright sun did awake, When first the amber morn did break, When first the lonely stars did smile On ocean blue or verdant isle, When first the clouds did pour their rain Upon the }oung Earth's teaming grain. When first the moon's pale mellow light Did sweetly cheer the solemn night, And other themes ; When first the birds in warbling strain Did echo o'er the grassy plain; When first the wild flowers bloomed to cheer Earth's wild monotony so drear; When first all things from nothing came, — Thus might time's waters quietly name. Of all beginnings they might tell. When first was tolled the marriage bell. And lover's fire Was first bespoken in the heart, When first man felt the amorous dart. When first the moon's pale dreamy light Did entice fond hearts love to plight ; — All these beginnings once did shine Upon the brink of fiowing time. And as love's first scene they did see, And the first nuptials gladdening glee, — They fain might tell. When first the corse in death did lay Upon death's frosty couch so gray; 22 HUXTER PUCK When first stern sorrow washed the cheek, When first the placid form so meek Beneath the turf was laid to rest: The first to sleep in earth's cold breast. And j'et of mightier themes, its tale Might growing dulness then regale, What has transpired From the first fiat till to-day, What mighty heroes crowd the way: Whose deeds of valor on the shore Of time's long river were fought o'er, Till the waves washed away their thrones, Then gently rippled o'er their bones. And many a scene of crime and sin, The story might revert to then, — But tis vain! Creation's dawn the fountains burst, And ne'er to pause and cease they durst. Creation's end will bid them cease. And the pent waters will release, No more to flow in endings fast — The flowing currents will have past. This is the tale that every hour Might to thee tell with endless power; To time's an hour, W hen the gay child with artless face Doth gayly smile in childish grace, Till with old age's hoary gray. The Keaper calls its life away, — 'Tis but an hour— a grain of sand, That's washed upon this river's strand. AND OTHER POEMS. 23 Thus ever watchful — watchful note The passing hours that by thee float In hurried sail In night and day they swift go by, The old church bell their death knell sighs, — Fleeting — fleeting is the toll! Flowing — flowing towards the goal Of endless eternity! Forever flowing in their glee. A NEW TOMBSTONE. March 15—1883. I've been absent from the old home now, Some twelve months two or more; Returning now, I mean to view Again those scenes of yore. I hope that many a hand I'll press, And many a form I' 11 meet, That I oft in the days now gone. So gayly once did greet. But still, a tremor o'er me creeps. And turns this hope to fear; My steps e'en lag ! Oh I'm afraid Sad tidings 1 shall hear ! Below this hill, in yon green grove. Where drooping palms do weep; And where the low mounds silent show, That there the pilgrims sleep. That's where, in youth, I first did learn The meaning of the grave; That's where the first tears for the dead, My youthful cheeks did lave. 24 HUXTBR PUCK I'll hence unto that place, and see If recent mounds are there; Oh how my heart doth throb with fear ! Hope is my only prayer. All is the same ! those silent walks, How sacred they do seem ? Here is the place, where swol'n eyes, With briny tears do stream. No new mounds here ! but, ah — alas ! Neath yon low drooping tree, I see no grass grows on the turf, And why ? I' 11 hence and see. And a small slab arises there ! The epitaph 1 see ! The name I know ! Oh Grod ! that was The dearest friend'^ to me ! And here, alas ! that form now lays ! Of all, that was the one, That 1 most thirsted to behold ; But now that hope is gone ! And that hope's gone ! Oh in this life, What high hopes we do build? But here's the end, and Oh it is With deepest sorrow filled ! Oh dearest friend ! to thee sweet rest Another hope is vain. The heart dream pictured in the soul Is a blotted scroll again. NoTK (i. lie was one of the warmest hearted friends I ever had the pleasure to chiim. I knew him and was associated witli him from earliest years. His death, most tra{,'if, by his own hand, asks for liim ;it last the pity of oblivion. AND OTHER POEMS. ^0 1 thought to meet thee, now farewell ! Farewell is hard to say, I hoped to press thy hand once more, That hope has passed away. Beneath this slab, I'll place a verse. That I have writ for thee, — An acrostif, of thy cherished name, That none shall ever see. So farewell now, and still farewell ! Far away I will now go; I wish to see no more of here. For 'tis sorrow but to know. EMERSON'S ESSAYS. June 9— 18S3. Ope, and read, on every page. Thou" It find the thoughts of a true sage; His inspiration breathes he slow. He cares not whence, nor where 'twill go; He calmly follows, and his strain Doth carry a majestic train, And serene like the azure sky. His pictures bear no gaudy dye ; But like the child of nature gay, When wrapt in childish, sportive play. He gladly plucks the sweetest flower From off' its low and grassy bower, And holds it cherished for a day. Then careless flings it far awav. 26 HUXTER PUCK LOVE IS A TEAR. O, love is a tear with a tlirill of fear Piercing a fond lieart Iveen, It may have a joy, but 'tis swift gone by, And naught but the tear is seen. It may have a joy, but the tear is nigh. For passion but smiles to weep;— And the tear will steal as the mirth throbs peal, Grief bursts from its fountains deep. THE IRISH EXILE'S ADIEU. Adieu, loved Tnnisfail, adieu; Sad fate from thee to roam ; Far, far away o'er the ocean blue, I seek another home. No, more, dear Native Land, I must, Glance over thy green hills gay, Even my bones in foreign dust Must moulder far away. But if God can use a broken heart,— Crushed by the hand of woe; My humble soul shall bravely strive To make a heaven where I go. (Dccastonal Perses.' And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to liy where sensual joys invade, Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride. —Goldsmith. NoTEl. Tlic pit'cos ill this division wl'tc written (luriiiy: a poi-iod commoncing in 1884t()tlie i)n's(Mit time. !Many of Diom liave boon printed in tlie local papt'i's, :i,ik1 from llicm 1 have collectt'd tlie Bcatterod verses and put tlient loiiether in 1 liis collection. SOME WORDS OF LOVE ARE SPOKEN TOO.^ Remorseless Censure's unjust frown Should not a manly bosom down, Although its shafts most poisonous be, With no sweet beam of charity; We may be sure, if right we do, Some words of love are spoken too. For Falsehood lasts but for a day, Then Truth again asserts her sway; And Censure's jeer must pass away: — Then if we mid its darkest hour Cleave but to right with trusting power, Though Censure's echoes wildest rage, Though thousand tongues the accents wage : In some unlooked and distant soul, The rays of Truth will gain control; Note 2. Tlie incident wliich ciilled forth tliis poem is ;is follows. In 1885 I was teaching a district scliool not many miles fi'oni Chilli- t'Otlie. I was a stranger to all tlu; district, and was hired on trial, by their liigh mightinesses, tlie scliool board. IMy predecessor, for four or five years, was a wrinkled faced old maid, in fact a perfect lioness, estimating her by the severe reuiiME she enforced. As an example of lier barbarity, thi' day before 1 applied for the school, 1 visited lier at the school about a week before her time was out. I had heard she wa,s 3iot going to be an applicant again l)ut was intending to take a vacation. When I entered the school room, two little boys about seven years old weri' standing on the floor, one was holding a, largo hickory nut in his mouth, and the other was holding a large heavy arm chair on his head. Not noticing my entrance she still kept them there for fifteen minutes. In about a half an houi- after she wliipi)ed a little girl severely with a large switch. She maintained (lis<-ii))liiie HUXTER PUCK And then reproved shall Error lie, And Truth will lofty crown the high ; And as the clouds of Censure raise, Thoult see that e'en beneath their haze; When loudest blazed their jibing hue, Some words of love were spoken too. Wh}- I did pen this humble lay, A downcast heart o'er me held sway; Where eer I'd roam; where e're I'd peer, Naught could I hear, but Censure's jeer", When lol unlooked came one bright ray Chasing all downcast gloom away: — I heard some words in kindness dear, — Words not intended for my ear; And then I said, in Censure's hue. Some words of love are spoken too. ■Nvitliii v('jij,'faiicc. Slu' railed two iiiori' little girls up for laujrhing shortly after, ami was sfoin";- to serve tlieni likewise, wlieii I interced- ed. I said I iiad made tliem hiusli, wliich was not true, but under tlie fiiunuiistaiR-es was Just ifialjie, told hov I was very sorry I caused 1ln' ilisturhaiire and asUi'd lie;' not to ])unisli tlii^ittle j^irls. Slie jrraciously i)ardoned tlieni with the i'el)uke tliat if they were studyiufi their lessons tliey would not see nie. I feltfjuilty although innoi-eul. Keariiij; tliat T liad otlendi'd her, sifter school was dis- missed. 1 weni home with hei' most jx^tent majesty, for she was a .sister to one of the directoi's and had inHueiice, took lier to a .social that evening in the neighborhood and flattered l»er to the queen'.s taste. No lovei', ever attended with more considi-rate devotion the Idol of his heait. than I that evening l)esto\ved upon that prim Edui-atlonal dignitary. As 1 was a, stranger, antl lier prospective .successor of course. I was for the time the sensation. Fain would I liave cultivated a budding aC(|uaintance with a rosy cheeked blue- eyed lass in hei- teens, but for the time being my purpose denied me IH-rmissitni. I must be true to my first love. She was my mascot* ■ Well next day the board met, passed resolutions of regret at her resignation and on lier recomeiidation, hired me, but for only one month, ort trial, if satisfactory during that time, then for the balance of the term. After three weeks of that month I was tlie darling of the entii-e s<-hool. and all the i)atrons, except a majority of the board. However [ did not know my standing with the district, and seeing two imnd)ers of the board in cousultalion for se\ eial evenings, I took th e AM) OTIIKR I'OE.MS. 31 LUDUS ANTE OPEllEM.' 'Tis quite a proverb, we all know. That we upon life's troublous way. Should truthful this short motto trow: "Work always should proceed our play.'' But not to doubt one truthful part, That in it lies in fullness strong, I will invert it just to start The feeble echoes of a song. Then plainly thus its words would read, And truth might yet beneath them lurk; But naught such prop my fancies need: "Play ever should proceed our work." hint tliat something was wronj;. 1 went to see tlie other director who was a plaiu spoken German, aiid he told metliat not he, hut tlie otlier two members of the board had decided to have me quit at the end of the week. The reason, I was too easy on the pupils, would not whip the pupils for infractions of the rules. To all this I])l(>afl jfuilty, but insisted that I had perfect order. ft wa.s in vain to protest, the majority was de<:ided, and I must jro. I turned from him scornfully and went away. I was so down hearted, that I harrlly realized where I went, not that I cared for the school, but to make a failure, the idea almost broke my heart. Goin;,' to my boardiii}? house, I passed a farm house to the South of which was a larjre fjarden fenced from the road by a thick jjrowing hedge. In this garden at work with their mother were iive little girls, two of them being the ones I had saved from be- ing wliipped as told above. They were all talking at once, and tell- ing tlieir motlier of the good qualities of their new teacher. "I .just love lum,"says an eight year old . '"I love to study the ]essf)us he gives me, "says modest ten year old: "lie is the kindest man I have ever seen" says another, and soon, until tlu'ii- child vocabulary was exhausted in benedictions and kind sayinsxs about tlieir new teacher. 1 was changed in a moment. The gloom that oppressed me was dlsipated in a flood of joy. I could scarcely keep fi-om shedding tears, so happy was I. Never till then did I realize tin- good of kind words spoken in our absence. The thought was uttered like a flash. "W«' may be sure if right we do, Some word> of love are si)okcn too." And when I got to nij' room I wroti- the above poem. I was not discharged. NoTi: :i. I'lay befon 32 HUXTER PUCK Then thus inverted, I'd apply Its test to men — both sad and gay, And find that most do ever try This sad inversion to obey. See yonder youth beginning life; See all his acts unwise and vain! He's not prepared for such a strife. His morn of life was spent in play. But youth's not all ! 0, what a host Tread in his footsteps, day by day, Though each and all of wisdom boast. They waste life's morn in fruitless play. For oft we s^e the hoary swain, With form half tottering o'er the tomb, Abide his time in pleasures vain Without once peering midst the gloom. But poor, frail man— thy feeble soul. In age as weak as youth" s wild day, No doubt attains thy promised goal, Though all thy 3'ears be spent in play. For mortal weak, thou mayst firm trust Kver in hope't elastic sway. That He who formed thee of the dust Will kind o'erlook thy venial play. THE G. A. R. TOAST. June 4— ]S84. Now gather round our standard boys, And gladly we'll again, Recal the stirring war scenes. And of them gay y sing. AND OTHER POEMS. 33 We'll sing the strains of triumph, That we sang upon the plain, Of Atlanta's bloody valleye, Red-strewn with thousands slain. And we'll hail the spangled banner, That did wave so proud and free, O'er our weary, weary marching, Frnm Atlanta to the sea. Oh we've seen dreadful times, boys, But o'er them we'll not weep; But bur}' all sad memories. In the crimson bowl so deep. But a tear steals o'er each smile, boys. For many a comrade brave, Sleeps silently forgotten In an unknown Southern grave. And for years, and years the grass has grown. O'er their graves so far away, And we have all disbanded. And our hairs are white and gray. Yet still with strong emotion. We recall the bugle chimes, The startling war dreams rousing call That pealed along the lines. And other stirring scenes of war. This evening we recall ; — It makes our old hearts flutter And the blinding tears to fall. But fill the bowls again boys, With champaign, rum or gin. For the Grand Old Army's still as strong. And true as it was then. 34 HUXTER I'UCK The same old banner waves on high While millions brave and true, Rally neath its flaunting tresses, Columbia's flag to view. Read\% brave to do die beneath it, When Liberty demands, The sacrifice for freedom. Ready with brave hearts and hands. Then if we fall unnoticed. And comerades every day. Expire along the wayside ; From friends care far awaj'. Our hearts will ne'er forget them. And we'll drink to their repose For we know if they were here to-night, They'd quick forget their woes. So here's another bumper. To the comerades far away. And here's another for the ones. Who fell in battle's fray. And here's one for our old flag, May she forever wave. Her unsullied vestal tresses To shield the true and brave. So fill your bowls again, boys With champaign, rum or gin, For the Grand Old Army's yet as strong And true as it was then. AND OTHER POEMS. 35 A PICTURE OF LIFE. * Nov. 15—1884. Ever Time's swift current flows! Onward, onward swiftly goes The fleeting hours of life's short day; How quick they fade? How short they stay? Life's morning breaks! its suns arise! Vain hopes apear in every guise! All through the morn they sparkle bright;— All,— all do think they'll last till night! They glitter in the morning beam, As though they were a golden stream ; They glitter in the zeniths glow, And melt the chill of sorrow's snow; They force their charm within the breast, And lull the anxious heart to rest; They kiss the tear from out the eye, And bury deep the coming sigh; They make the heart to bless the day, When life first sang its vaunting lay ; They bury fear deep in the breast, Till life's sun slowly nears the west! When, fearful look and troubled face Bespeak an anxious spirit' s trace ; And woe-begone that visage now That once was such a buoyant brow. And now, that youth with hair so bright, Is changed, and locks of hoary white Note 4. Tho short spiin .if liumuu o.xistfii.-c liiis Im-.ti by poets, pictured ill parables aiicl Allt-ffories, iiuite vavwd iiiid extensive. The most conniK.H fit,'ure. tnid one that is as old as literature, is tha "river of life" or of ''time," whii-h nrv si.nilar Tiielaphors. 36 IIUXTER I'UClv O'crstrew his brow — dim is his eye; His breath doth heave the languid sigh, — The languid sigh for former hours, When, safe amid youth's eaiiy bowers, He gathered roses on the way Of life's glad morning — bright and gay; And felt the vernal kiss of mora Impressed upon his cheeks so warm, And embraced friends to him so true Whose graves have long been washed with dew. Yet, lonely dreams can never more Bring back those friends and pleasures oer! His morn and noon of life are gone : Fast, fast its night is coming on. To watch life's morn to its sad eve, Alas! How short is death's reprieve? We are but bubbles, that do sail Upon Time's tide — before the gale, While millions every moment sink. That vainly strive to reach the brink : Still forward time's swift currents lave, With death's wild Havoc on the wave. THE STORY OF HOME. 'tis long since I've greeted the friends that 1 love. And many long years 1 have sought. This wide weary world a bright fortune to gain, But treasures and wealth have I naught; For lonely and sad through each scene did I feel As a lone waif on lifcs troubled foam. AND OTHER POEMS. 37 I O, j^ou'll ease one sad heart, if you'll only kind friends, ' Just bring me a story from home. Yes, bring me a story and happy I'll smile, And forget all this sorrow so lone ; And this heart now so burdened, in gladness will beat, When it hears the glad story from home. 'Twas a bright summer morn when I left that loved place, So buoyant strong hope did expand, Though the sad tears of parting did fall like the rain; When friends the last time grasped my hand, And though long far away from the visions of youth, They still haunt me wherever I roam. Oh, nothing will cheer a lone heart far away, As to hear one glad story from home. ADIEU TO AX 0LDFR1KXD.5 Oh early friend, long loved too true. The hour is come, a last adieu ! Thy smiles I'll no more meet. Of you T ask cold censure, chide. And, as a friend, a friends faults hide, And if thou aught of wrong abide. Forgive in friendship sweet. When no fond link yet binds me here, And I'm forgot in absence drear, Will love, one true heart find. To say: "Forgive his frailties free; Perhaps his soul deep faults did see. But yet his heart was kind !" Ni>TK :>. TIk' above poem was printed tiiree yeai-s ago in a work eutillccl '^^firdioiis from Amoricnn Writers,"' published atC"olunibu3 Ohi<.. 38 HUXTER PUCK Forgive his wayward faults, in vain Warm love did strive to weave a chain, That might his errors save ; But his fault was the erring song Of burning passion, willful, strong: — Sweet is a fault, that would no wrong ! For such have hearts most brave. They say in Eden, ages past, — An angered God his wrath did cast Upon frail weak mankind: But yet, that anger was forgot, God's warm heart felt man's lowly lot, — Oh now let naught kind memories blot ! For godlike hearts are kind. Dear friend, farewell I It brings the tear To say farewell to one so dear, No warmer friends than you, "When distant scenes shall glad mine eye, And passion wakes love's burning sigh. My soul with love's warm memories nigh. Shall bless thv heart so true. SHIPWRECKED. « They sailed away in the life boat strong, Out in the wide, wide sea, — Beyond the glimpse of their native shore, Note ti. And the slatfly .sliip Jiocs on, Ti) tliu liavt'D unck-r the hiU Htit, O, for the totich of the vanished liand And the sound of the voice that is still. Texxyson AND OTHER I'OEMS. Beyond the mist and the thunder's roar, Beyond where ship had ne'er sailed before, And the storm was on the lea. Still they sailed away in that life boat strong, Out in that, wide, wide sea, — Behind love's eyes were wet with tears, Behind were wives' and childrens' fears, Behind were the fireside's holy cheers, While the storm raged on the lea. But they sailed a^yay in that life boat strong, Out on that wide, wide sea, Below in the darkest ocean caves, Below where the coral wreathes their graves, Below where the blue eyed sea nymph laves, They sleep for eternity. So one heart sailed off in this life boat strong, Out on life's wide, wide sea; All Hope sailed off in that bark that day, While lone despair on the shore did stay. And that heart with Hope that thus sailed away. Has never come back to me. 40 HUXTER PUCK IN MEMORY OF THE DEAD. May 30—1890. They rest from war's stern labors, From its storms they find release, And their valiant souls now wander On the blessed shores of peace; Fame be the heroe's g.irland. In song be his glories spread, .\s we spread memorial tributes In memory of the dead. They are gone where wars ne'er clamor, Where the crimson fields are done, Where no gaudy standards flout the foe When the anger of strife's begun. No more shall foemau's terrors Disturb their peaceful j'ears While the}' rest in the long still slumber, For the dead know not of tears. NtiTK 7. This pocra willi llu' one fiititU'd "Meniorial"' in "Hallow- e'en iindot liei- poems" luis been coniineiiderl veryhiglily by members of llie (i. A. K. for wliich I acUnowledue my sincere thanks. Their ooinnieudations are not mercenai'v. I)u1 tlie fi-t'e, sincere tributes of brave nu'n. The poet of tlie future wil 1 find no theme more wortliy of his yenius, than the examples of heroism d(vsi)layed in the late war. It sliould be his purpose, as well as duty.to commend witliout partial- ity or prejudice, whatever he finds heroic eitlier of North or South. The valor and glory of both isalilvethecommon heritaf,'eof Amoryian citi/.ensiiip. He should siny: of their s'ltu-ies alike, and as they each, who now sui'vive, silently pass away to -'the other shore," and; aro laid aw.-iy beneath the blue ,si"iss of onr valleys, he should hang their stainless sworils upon the Walls of Love's temple, beneath the torn and shattered sliindards which they hailed in victory or defeat, and fold their faded coats of "Blue or (iray" in Love's-.jeweled casket, where patriots may view them as tlu' sa.-red and unsullied relics of •'American N'alor." AND OTHER POEMS. 41 But the poet's wandering fancy Clings to each unmarbled grave, Where the good and the bold aji sleeping The last sleep of the brave: And he plucks from the whispered memories Of heroic deeds well done, The names that claim the laurel of Fame By their valorous deeds, well won. And he sings the memorial tributes. That are garlands for the brave, For the sweetest bloom and fairest Howers Should wreath the soldier's grave; And he wreathes love's fairest garland For the unreckoned hearts that bled. For the land that lives for freedom's cause, Should cherish its patriot dead. Who flinched not in dread danger, But braved the storms red breath, And firm to Duty's sacred call. Their souls went out in death ; — No guerdon great, of glittering gold. Beneath high Heaven's dome. Can repay their deeds, for to death they stood For Country, Flag and Home. But they rest, and their toils are ended. All war's horror and alarm, And their land is safely guarded By God's everlasting arm ; — On the immortal scroll of Honor, Their valiant deeds are spread. And glory's chaplets here we lay In memory of the dead. ^- IIUXTER I'UCK MISSOUKT. >' Missouri, l^roud Jjtfid of the blue sky and prairie, In tribute one offering let fond love bestow Land, where prosperity's suns never vary: Land, where rich harvests in plenty do c^vow Land, where warm hearts and free hands are awaiting "What summons brave duly to each shall decree Land, where the minstrel may sing Love's creating Oh, let me wreath one due tribute to thee. Whatever loves the brave. Proud glory or a grave. Thou hast Irnown, "What e'er inspires the free, Honor, fame or liberty. Is thine own. Who has not thy glory known. Who loves not thy manhood grown; Who e'er doubts thy harvests sown, Who fears danger round thy throne, None in all the earth. Valleys, hills and mountains, Kivers, groves and fountains ' Dorn thy face ; As the colors in the bow, As the sparks gleam in the glow. Note K. No apolo-y n."..(l he made for :■ ,„H.ni on Missouri N-i- ture liaseiKlowed luw with s.-fi.ery ;, ,h1 r.-sounH.s. surpassinsauy land .mmoHiU./od in so..^?. lU-va is a brij,hU-r dc-stiny IIkui those' lands' Known ,n sons to «^hi,-h the antiquarian and tourist visit as the shrines of poetry an.l literature. The writers of Missouri should seek- to jjive her a worthy plaee in the literary domain. The j^eiiius of li.-r s.-holars and poets should not rest, unt ill he literature of Missouri o.nnBands the respe.-t an,l admiration of the world. Inspired by the expeetatton thatsueh is her desti.ty, t he ahnvepoen. eanno, le re! j;iii-dedasont,.f plaee or extra vairant. AND OTHER POEMS. 43 As the foam floods in the flow, As the soft breeze in the blow Each adds grace. Land of the blue sky and the prairie, Can thj' fame or glory vary? No, not till eternity, While thy blue skies ever glow, While thy rivers ever flow. While the rain falls and the snow. And thy grass grown hills we know. Thou shalt honored be. Land of Freedom's rising sun, Shall e'er that Freedom's daytime run, No, such cannot be. While one heart beats high and brave, While proud free men scorn the slave. While true hearts will bleed to save, While there's room for one more grave. Thou shalt e'er be free. Our native land, shall foeman's hand Ere menace thy sweet peaceful strand. No, such can ne'er appall, While they're great deeds for the bold. While brave heroe's tales are told. While we cherish memories old. While our starry flag's unrolled, Thou art safe from all. There are lands where tropic breezes, Kiss perennial blossoms fair. There are lands where fragrant incense Strews its aroma on air; 44 HUXTER PUCK There are Jands where mountains pierce the sky And lands that wall the sea, But Missouri, Old Missouri, — Is the land for me. There are lands where pilgrims gather To worship at their shrines. There are lauds where ancient ruins, The ivy wreath entwines. But they've known the martyr's dying groan And the despot's tyranny, Oh, Missouri,. Dear Missouri, — Is the land for me. No ancient specter haunts thy place Of tyranny and wrong, Thy name has never known one strain, Save Freedom's glorious song. Blazoned on thy fair escutcheon. The sweet name of "Liberty," Oh, Missouri, My Missouri, Is the land for me. A LAUGH. A laugh is life, a sigh is death. In smiles Life paints her bloom, A sorrowing heart is the frosty breath. While a tear is the dew of the tomb< Laugh long, laugh loud, laugh strong, laugh well, Thy mirth will no heart otlend; Jjaugh on till grief is a broken spell And gloom with all gladness blend. AND OTHER POEMS. 45 FOR ELLEN'S SAKE. They 011I3' loved, as the world would say: — *'Ju8t friends for a time," then a different way Each took through life, and forgot the flame, That burned a day in hope's fond, fond name. Then ere two years, she another wed; — He saw her glad bridal in glory spread ; And he was reminded in taunt or fan — "That a faint heart never a fair lady won." But he made no murmur, and life went on ' In its humdrum routine of cloud and sun, And surely a young man's vows though true, When vain are made to again renew. So years went by, and the new years came ; And that silent heart shrined a secret flame, For Love ne'er speaks, but upon some page Of the heart is writ, what ne'er blurs with age. And upon this heart there was writ indeed, A sad, sad page which no eye could read; But if read, the missive would sadly break: — **A fond heart dying for Ellen's sake." Soon Cruel War spread over the land; — Each answerd the call with a valiant hand ; — He, who WED Ellen, by the Blue did stay; — But he, who loved Ellen, espoused the Gray. Ere they left for the War, they old friendships claimed, For, for years a coldness their friendship strained, And the silent lover's voice trembling spake: — "Let ue shake hands, just for Ellen's sake." 40 HUXTER PUCK They met in battle when fire and ball Kained death and havoc around on all; "Where the blood ran red 'mong the drifts of dead, And wounded and dying the field o'er spread. In front all grappled, one wounded falls, But he still fights on, and no mercy calls; — One fatal stroke was upon its way; But a foeman's arm did its vengeance stay. He leaped forth brave, while the fight raged warm, And between that soldier and Death's mad storm He threw himself and waved back the foe. While round fell death in the darkest woe. The wounded soldier he safely bore To harbor of safty from battle's roar; But just as he placed him iu safty's walls. He, himself, fell pierced by a hundred balls. His heart's blood reddened his coat of Gray, As that wounded solder did vain essay To know why that succor; — his last words spake In faltering words: — "Just for Ellen's sake. These words told all. 'Mid the wreck and fire Of wild War's carnage, Love's flame burned higher; And the soul of a hero without one stain, Went forth to its God for a love in vain. The years since then have fast rolled away, And the verdure mantles the once red clay Of that field of carnage, where fierce the fire, Of battle raged in mad havoc dire. And years of peace have smiled sweetly now. For six lustrums, since the once sombre brow Of War bedarkened the hopes of men. And forgotten are hearts that throbbed warmly then; AND OTHER POEMS. 47 But, when spring comes ' round with its leaves and blooms, And the sweet 3Iay roses bedeck the tombs Of our hero dead, on the day we lay The memorial garlands above their clay ; — It is noted long in a Southern place, Where marks of battle the grounds deface; That each year there comes from the North alone, A war scared soldier to all unknown. And he'll pass the graves of his comrades there. Without one rosebud or bloom to spare; But the grave of a rebel beside a stream, He wreaths it as bright as a poet's dream. And oft he's asked why those flowers are spread; And, why garland the grave of a foeman, dead? But the onh' answer their queries wake; — "The hero who died just for Ellex's sake." AUBURJ^ AND GOLD." 0, friend of other days. When you and I Were boys, we knew the ways Of life and jf)y ; Then all was glad and free. And hopes were high, And we sailed joy's crystal sea. In days gone by. NoTEli. 'J'liis i)()em witli the tlirco following: To Hattie, Rijso ami Lora, ari' fouiifU-d on associations, the pai-iics to which anions my friends an- well known. Of "Auburn" and "Gold" nothing farth- er need be said, tlian is written in the poem. Oftlie other three young ladies, it is sufficient to say that they were Missouri girls, to show that they were wurlliy of renienibranre in tlie realm of poetry and son a'. 48 IIUXTER rUCK But friend, we had our grief, Yes, you and I, Time brings but sad relief From days gone by. Yours had curls of gold, Mine auburn hue; But both had hearts, not cold. Those sisters true. Their eyes of violet blue, Their cheeks of snow. Dear friend, of other days, We loved them so. And both now silent sleep. In Karth so cold ; Ah friend, too late we weep, — Auburn and Gold. Dear friend, of other days. Today we met, First for tea years, — thy praise I ne'er forget; But still I marveled long. For all the years, Of happy friendships strong. We still had tears. For when today we met. At friendship's call, I saw the round tears set. Waiting to fall ; — And memory speech suppressed, And silence told The burden in each breast: — Auburn and Gold. AND OTHER POEMS. 49 Yours in the happy prime Of wifehood's day, When hope beat high, sublime, She went away; Mine ere the bridal day Beside her slept, Ah friend, 'tis vain to say: — "Too long we've wept." Dear friend, for all thy grief I've had a tear. Your kind heart finds relief If mine have cheer, O, there be ties divine In friendship's hold But none like yours and mine Auburn and Gold. TO HATTIE. April 15—1885. Yes, again is the moonlight! Glad as in days of old. When our young hearts free, looked on.life's glad sea,- Dreaming of bliss untold . Still we have true hearts, Hattie, Burning with passion's flame, Me thought the hard years with their flint-like tears, Had left not ©f passion a name. But passion wild as the torrent, Leaps in its pentless might. O'er the clitfs of time since I called you mine, And again we are met tonight. 50 HUXTER PUCK Hattie, these beams are glorious, While the Medicine flows at our feet, Do its gentle waves the far Ocean lave, Yet "sing they their sad song sweet?" Me thinks, if I'd such a journey, Away to the far, far sea, I should pause to sigh, and my song would die, Unless 'twas inspired by thee. Yet I've been a long, long journey, With heart sighs the mutlled sail. Since that last adieu, when love seemed untrue, And its fond vows seemed to fail. But there is a legend, Hattie, By grandames it is given, That ; — "w h? n true h( arts plight, some fond angel bright Records the vow in heaven. ' ' I never believed the stor\-, 1 hate this grandame lore ; But one balmy night 'neath the star's pale light, I stood by a wave kissed shore. There lone as the sea shell's murmur, Sad as the Oceans moan, My heart did seek for the maiden meek, Whom passion should name her own. There was many a fair name mentioned, But mid silence a voice was given; "Choose the one you will, but thy true vow still, Makes Hattie yet known in heaven." "Hattie! whose Hattie?" I started. But memory's the pilot bold. Who leads us back o'er the beaten track, Where burning passion lies cold. AND OTHER POEMS. 51 "Hattie! whose Hattie?" one moment, Then all was unveiled and bright! A youth once more by this wave-kissed shore, x'Vnd the past was a present sight. There you was a barefoot maiden. And I was a barefoot boy, Does it blush thy cheek for me thus to speak? But bare feet was then, all joy. Innocent, modest, gentle, Blushfretted, thy cheek was fair, And the deep sky blue of thy bright eye's hue, Warm passion could net thee spare. Then came an hour of parting, Love wept, for that hour was pain, For Hate spoke, "adieu,"' and we'd vowed untrue, And youth's love seemed all in vain. Ten long, long years I've wandered, Ten long, long years I've sighed. And with many a maid has Love's fancy played; Bui with none could fond love abide. And it seemed age dried up passion. And my heart turned cold as snow, Yet one flame remained, that all grief ne'er tamed; A passion of long ago. But now again is the moonlight, Grlad as in days of old. And we" 11 not forget first Love's warm debt: — Burning with hopes untold. No, unforgot and forgetless. Cherished though Hate was high, — Pledged in barefoot days, let Hate work his ways, No barefoot vow can die. 52 HUXTER PUCK So Hattie love, like the moonbeams, A cloud may intervene, But an hour is all, till the veil does fall, And we see but a brighter beam. So is our love this evening. Though there's frost in thy golden hair, That frosted gold is but youth grown old, Age chills not the hearts we bear. TO ROSE Aug. 14— 1K87. As sadly the Sunset brings night over day, So comes sombre gloom, when from thee I'll away, Leaving but loneliness long to remain. Awaiting a Dawn that may ne'er come again. But 0, in that night, when all joy is unknown, Should a whisper but break of our joys that are flown, In tones that the angles would gladly repeat, O, short we did meet, but the meeting was sweet ; — The past then shall seem as a mystic vale fair, "Where passion flowers throw their sweet scents on the air, With Lilies and Daisys, no bloom there concealed. And the Primrose, its beauty in blushes revealed. To each flower a tribute of love then must fall, For the heart then can naught but kind memories recall, And Loves burning censer, its clasps shall unclose, And its holiest incense will breathe on the Rose. AND OTHER POEMS. 53 TO LORA. January 15—1890. Oh Memory, among thy pages, One picture oft I trace, In such hues sublime, that the teeth of Time, Can ne'er one line deface. Lora, of all friends, the fairest, True of all true, the best. Kind of all kind, the kindest Whom Love so often blest, Fond of all fond, the fondest; — Thy picture in memory stands, Gentilj^ gentlest. Tenderly tenderest. Modestly modestest Nobly noblest. Truest and best. Thy artfully artless smile, Which sent to my soul Love's dart, In the aimfully aimless guile. Of thy "sinfully sinless" heart Is enshrined on a deathless page In Memory's caskets dear, And though Time may blot, what fond hopes would not, An eternity is here. The lonefully loneless while; — The hour ere our parting came ; — * The dolefully doleless while. The hours that our partings name. 54 HUXTER rUCK O love of the long ago ! O love of youth's early prime; The hopes that burned like a star at morn, Now rankle in gloom sublime: — But the memory still lives on Of thy kindness and trust so true, And this heart has grief with no sweet relief, Save when Memor}'^ turns to you. Quaint Perses. And Imnian iKitui'c Is ;i i-lotb Of many curious tluD^s, Whetlier iK-imiiecl iip into iliymers, Wliether stitcli»_-(l up into kinus, ■WJietlior sowed up into printcis, AVlicther editors are made, It will tear, and slirink, and ravel; It will wusli, and wear, and fade. —Howard t'ARuoT.r/roN Tripp. HAYSEED. Ve men of every trade, who the farmers' ways invade, In your methods of procedure have a care; ^nd listen to my song for I assure you 'tis not long, And of it you may reap benefits most rare; |Tis this, that when you meet a farmer on the street, "Do not sprinkle to much hayseed in your hair." I knew a man from town, who to do the farmers brown, For years had pondered o'er his schemes so rare; But his shining brick of gold was a chestnut far too old, And the wondering crowds upon him took a stare. As the prison door closed dawn on this slick young man from town. He had "sprinkled too much hayseed in his hair." Once upon a time in an Indian Summer clime, To a farmer's house 1 weni to bargain fair, To buy a gallant steed and inspired by human greed, 1 sought to shrewdl}' catch him in a snare: — But the steed balked and was old, and the farmer had my gold, I had "sprinkled too much hayseed in my hair." One time with the smooth cards I, with two other pards, Allured a simple farmer to our lair; And he was picking tame, for he was in for any game, And we knew he had "the wherewithal" to spare; But at the final rush the meek farmer drew a "flush,'' We had "sprinkled to much hayseed in our hair,' 58 IIUXTER PUCK Now the moral of my song which I told you is not long, Is simply this, — be honest and prepare, To treat all men the same: — be no hypocrite for fame, And of intellect give everyone his share; Give your farmer friend his 'Uie, for his mind will size up you, "Do not sprinkle too much hayseed in your hair." WISDOM VERSUS VANITY Being smart above my years. And caring naught for gibes or sneers, 1 wooed and won Miss Yellercurl, — A strapping burl}^ woodman's girl, — Her form (^uite massive, but you know These girls who in the backwoods grow. Consent to marry that they may Make their "hub's" life a holiday, And feed them pork and biscuits round. That rise like mushrooms from the ground. My brother John, 0, most a'sthetic. Second Yellercurl with hate prophetic. And deeming me scarce 'bove her ilk, He wed a city girl, — Miss Silk. They both did hate my backwoods wife, But would not say aught for their life ; For Y'^ellercurl without a care Could kill a Rocky Mountain bear. One day a cyclone came along, Rending mansions lirm and strong; But when it came to where I sat, We had a short, unequal spat, AND OTHER POEMS. 50 For I'd in wedlock grown so stout, All Nature could not bounce me out, And so 1 sat and winked my eye, And said, "Old Cyclone you go by." But brother John, who dwelt below, Found fate of sorrow,- — told in woe, In wedlock he had grown so thin, Almost transparent — so that when Old Cyclone came a roaring by, It blew him clear up to the sky. Moaning loud as up he went, "A backwoods wife I now lament. ' MORAL. So thus with wise men in this age, The backwoods girl is all the rage. The city girl is fine and gay, But wed her and you'.ll blow away. THE TEMPERANCE SOCIETY. ' The Temperance Society, In teaching sobriety. Has late been so loud in its ranting, That my good dog Bowser, Whose grandsire was Towser, To preach it, did go gallivanting. Note 1. This poem is ncit mcuiil lis ;i sat iiv onti'mpciiiiico. Tlic incident tliat led to its writiiii-' is as follows. During' tlw local option agitation in WSHaiul JSHTtliciv was a cfitaiii ti-inpcrance liM-tunT, who was grandi-oloquctit, faiiatic-al and al)usivi', in his liaranf^uos against tlic Li(inor 'riattic. ]lo boardod wlierc 1 did, and suspo.M ini; liim to 1)0 a hypocrite, 1 did iM)t .■m-oiirairc liis actiuaintancc, althonsli ho pushed his presence upon nie with an addulation and energy lliat 00 HUXTER PUCK His first great revival Had scarcely a rival, The Fidoes were numerous and free, And neighbor Brown's Buch, Who makes twenty of such, Came to hear him just fiom a spree. Good Bowser was telling With wows-high and swelling; How whisky all dogs was unmanning, "Bow-wow" Buch did say, And says lo old Tray, "Let's give him a good-natured canning. "Yes, yes;" growled old Tray, And ere Bowser could pay Attention to what was transpiring, Buch hooked a tin pail — Fast on to his tail. And quick was old Bosvser retiring. He yelped and he moaned. He rolled and he groaned ; As homeward the rattle did hoot him. was (lisj,'ustiii in town witli liini our day. He had liold a suc- «-<'Ssfnl nu'ctiiij; the iii^lit bcforo, and siipposiiifj him to ongiigo in l)ri'i)ai"iti(>ns for his fvaiifii'lical labors, I paid no attention t*» liini dui'ins tin' day. About three o'clock iritlie afternoon, 1 was much >nrp;'ised when tlu'city maishall notified mi' that a man in the cala- tioosc wanted to see nio. (join,«' tiieri'. f was horrified to see my temperance a^'itator, locked u\) for Ijeing l)oisterously drunk. I paiil Ills fine, and took him home, he beinjf all the time in a fair state uf preservation, and sujjplied with licinor on his person. His nerve ,conii)h'tely knocked me out, when that very evening, lie went and conducted anothei' temperance revival, preached and exhorti'd furiously, and in his sm-cessJin jjettinj;: ".j'iners" he surpassed all pi'evit)us meeting's. J was disjiiisted witli liim so. that J liave never been able to persuade myself to pai't icipale In oi'jjanized temperance \vorl>. My e.\i)erieuce with tliat irent leman is what called forth this poem. AND OTHER POEMS. Gl At last, as one sainted, He fell down and fainted, As if some cruel huntsman did shoot him. But Bach was no divil. Though oft most uncivil; To Bowser he kept close and handj^. And seeing the dos: Fall down like a log, He pulled out a big flask of brandy. The r*eck of the bottle, ~ Buch forced in his throttle, And emptied the contents inside him, When Bowser jumped up, As gay as a pup,' And continued to preach and to chide him. His words did not clog. Though they came from a dog, They the vice of Intemperance did throttle, They fell with such edge, Even Buch took the pledge. And there did abandon his bottle. Thus among dogs 'tis known, Why whisky's o'erthrown; It s because it abetted, who fought it, And though this may be bad, The dog kingdom is glad, And rejoice o'er the efforts that wrought it. 62 HUXTER PUCK LONG EARS. The gallant horse has a stately form, The faithful dog, a heart that's warm, And long, long horns are found on steers; But it is the ass that has the ears. And many men I've often found, ^'ho "kick 'gainst pricks' or paw the ground To show their power above compeers, Are justly marked with the "long ears." A man has a daughter, woman grown, An honest youth finds the maid alone. They love, they plight, the parent hears And he kicks up a row like a drove of steers, Yet he all the while wears the "long ears." A man in wedded life may foam, To keep his mother-ia-law at home; But at each attempt, he too plainly hears. The failure has served to length his ears. The poet sings his harmless song, The Scoffing Critic comes along, At the bards mistakes he laughs and jeers, Yet "tis he himself wears the "long ears." The man who will not advertise. But hopes to prosper otherwise, Will ere long start in terror lone To find how long his ears have grown. So strive in life without offense, To guage thy work by common sense. To kick 'gainst Fate will bring out sneers, And mark thee plain with longer ears. AND OTHER POEMS. i')'.', AGAINST THE GRAIN. Toiling and striving from day uato day, From cliildhood, to manliood, to old age, no pla}', The parson says, — "Life without work would be vain," But he is, whei-e he is, 'cause it goes 'gainst the grain. Some seek the school room to pedagogue through, The time that's allotted of life, as their due, And others a shirking from work seek the Law, To starve on pretensions, or live by their jaw. And the Doctors cure all with their powders and pills, Yet murder out right with the size of their bills, And the tailor arra5's us in fashions sublime, And the bar-keeper sells us a drink for a dime! Vet all are but shirkp, who with deceptions bold, Seem to care for your wants, but their want is your gold. Give no heed to their babble, to each work is pain. And they shirk from its fields, cause it goes 'gainst the grain. THE MULES EAR. Out upon the farm, where I spent many a daj', I learned quaint words of wisdom, which e'en yet Are useful on life's way, their truth you can't gainsay; For they sparkle like the diamond in the set. There's one that I recall, not the shrewdest one of all, Yet its truthful rays in memory still blinks. And it comes the farmers say from observing its true way; — "The mules ear never points the way he thinks." 04 IIUXTER rucK Tlie first T wrote this down, a friend of mine from town, Denied its truth, and sought to prove it so: So he found that kindly bea'*t with both ears pointing East, And a gentle feeling in him seemed to glow; While standing from him West, something struck my friends new vest. And three rods from there he found himself in kinks. But the sober docile beast still kept his ears to East: — "The mule's ear never points the way he thinks." 1 have marveled many days about this homely phrase, And deceitful men its truthfulness display, Their greetings happ}' seem, and point out pure friend- ship's dream. Hut their secret souls bear hatred's angry sway; And to know their hidden leers, you must more than watch their tars. For malice deepest in their nature sinks, And when their hearts you know you'll find these words are so; — "The mule's ear never pcints the way he thinks." Now these worda. which on the farm my early youth did charm, I pen in simple verse, just to recall The honest thoughts, which train through the farmer's manly brain; — The simplest truth's the strongest truth of all, And T thought 'twas very well, to pause and gaze a spell, To find what wisdom to this strange phrase links. And I found that men. like mules, are governed by strange rules, — "The mule's ear never points the way he thinks.'" AND OTHER POEMS. 65 NEVER COUNT YOUR CHICKENS IN THE EGG. I want to talk to you, not to-lecture or review Tbe great mistakes you've made, and why their so, But shortly here to give a maxim that should live, And be treasured by the high as by the low. Ne'er reckon your renown, until you've won the crown, And it sits upon your forehead like a peg. For there's even many a slip between the cup and lip; — "Oh never count your chickens in the egg." Once lived an ancient maid in her stilted manners staid, Who had a sitting hen upon the nest With fifteen shining eggs, all huddled 'bout her legs, And covered by her wings and downy breast. Now quoththis maiden low, — "I'll have fifteen chicks, you know For the early markets, which high prices b^g; But her chickens ne'er did clucking, for old Towser went egg sucking;— "Oh never count your chickens in the egg. " I knew a sporting man, who for years his mad course ran. And reckoned all men lambs oo which to prey, And 'tis true, at cards and tables, he surpassed what's writ in fables, But his equal came along one winter day. He was a simple farmer, said the sporting man, "A charmer, — A very tenderfoot. 111 pull his leg," But that sporting man so lazy, after that game was crazy: — "Oh never count your chickens in the egg." 66 HUXTER PUCK Now what I want to teach, for I'm no great hand to preach, Is a very simple maxim true for all; It is this, what e'er of fame or wealths heritage we claim, Decent merit should proclaim it, and not gall: — And what Fortune has to give, we should accept and live AVithout pretentious boastings, for to beg Is nobler than to lie, then to modesty comply: — "Oh never count your chickens in the egg." 2^I?c ^avmcvs Komancc. Tliere was raciii.s? aiul chasing on Caunaby lea, Kut tin- lost bride of Netliei'by ne'er did 1 hey see. — SCso cooking in the whole kentry Kin with Maria's take rank." Who's Maria? Wal ! wal 1 by jingo ! Yer don't know Maria! you say? Why, Maria's my wife ! good stranger, Jist twenty years today We were married up in your city. Brother Dockery the knot tied gay, And we could n't pay him in coon skins, He had to have cash for his pay. Our Romance? Yer would like to hear it? Wal now I'll jist say to ye here, If you dare 'rite it up for the papers, I'll ring olT a piece of yer ear. Do n't write it, or say aught about it, And for pastime, 111 it jist awake; But first set you down at this table, And sample that bacon and steak. And Maria, you pour him some coffee, And that butter dish push this way. Tot out a few more of them biscuits. This stranger has had a hard day, And I'm goin' to tell him our Romance, Sich stories he writes it is known, Of love, and of marriage, and women. Though he's ne'er had a wife of his own. AND OTHER I'OEMS. But Maria, you don't need to hear it, Jist give him the supper and go, AVal sit down, — 'twill make no difference, 'Tis a sad tale of long ago, And it seems jist yesterday. Stranger Since first this wife I did see: And now thar's gray hairs on her temples, That's right draw closer to me. Our Romance! Look out thar. Stranger, Through the window, upon yon hill. What two green mounds are lying, Our two boys, sleep thar still. Don't sob Maria, 1 should n't, By George, I'm blubbering tool I'll dry those tears with yer apron, A Romance of grief too true. One went in the early Springtime, When the corn was jist o'er ground, The other, jist four months after, When it tassels and silks had found. And now their out thar on yon hillside. They were aged three and five. Ten years ago last autumn. They both were here alive. Ten years ago, tomorrow, We were left in grief forlorn. Their e^es were blue as the Jay's wing, Their hair like the silks of corn ; And I blubber, and cannot help it, And 3Iaria breaks down in tears, Such is our Romance stranger; — A grief that lasts ten years. HUXTER PUCK That's not what yer mean by Romance? Wal, wal, that's some relief, I thought that big word's meanin', Was love's sore trial in grief; But, you say, "it means our courtship?" Then you can jist write down, Thar ne'er was a happier llomance, In kentry city or town. I'd come out here from Virginia In the latter Sixties, when That proud Old State was in mourin' For General Lee's brave men ; For I had fit 'gainst the Union, And when all was lost in strife, I came out west to Missouri To git a new start in life. It was in the winter season, When the ground was covered with snow, When huskin' bees with parties And spellin' schools were the go; Jist twenty years I remember. By Jove, 'twas a frosty night! The first time I met Maria, And it was at Parson Wright's. The Parson, you bet, was clever, A far worse Rebel than me, And seein' my Gray coat, I tell yer Made his heart swell biger you see, And a kind o' fondness between us, For this sprung up right thar,' I could have hugged and kissed him, And he remembered me when at pray" r. AND OTHER POEMS. 73 Thar" at the party that eveniag, He took me 'round, and when, Some asked, "what stranger he welcomed," Says: — "One of Bob Lee's brave men" Yes, General Lee, the commander, A.nd hero of Southland's pride, Ah! Stranger you know not what hearts feel, That have stood whar' brave men died. He took me 'round, whar Maria, And farmer Jone's son, With a lot of other youngsters Were playing some game of fun ; Let's see, — 'twas "Old Dan Tucker," And they tuckered me right in line, Stranger, No use o' talkiu' But that old sport was fine. When first I sot eyes on Maria, My heart turned bottem o'er top, Like batter cakes in a griddle. When we turn them o'er with a flop ; And I thought; — "Ed. Jones take notice, Though you be conceited, I see; I'll show 3'ou, your really not in it, Right thar is the gal for me." Wal, I asked Maria that evening. And she said she would agree; But her Dad and Ma, were determined That Ed. Jones her groom must be, And so for weeks together. We planned and thought some way To bring the Old folks over; But they grew worse each day. 74 HUXTER PUCK And they ordered me off their diggings, Whar' I ne'er sot foot again, But to balk a man from Virginia In love, takes more than men. And Maria, despite their jowling. To me was firm and true, Yes, true as Virginia's heroes Who fit for the "Bonnie Blue." So we met out at meetin' And arranged it then and thar. Next Sunday to run off and marry, When all the rest were at pray'r, And I'd come to the meetin' Biding my noble Gray, — God bless that Old Hoss, — yonder He IS now eatin' hay. He is spavined, and old and stiff'nin' His limbs are now with years. Gold never could buy him. Stranger, Why that hoss pricks up both ears. And laughs and nickers to kiss me. For as good as myself he feels. When we talk of that famous elopement, When he showed them all his heels. On Old Gray I left Chillicothe Whar' I'd hired Brother Dockery to wait. That evening, till long towards midnight. When I'd come back with a mate, And Young Billy Leach so clever, Did loan me the cash to pay. For to get married you know on credit, Is not in the reg'lar way. AND OTHER POEMS. 75 Out by Springhill was the meetin', A revival for weeks, no halt, Whar' many ran for salvation, As pasture cows for salt ; Thar' I was to meet Maria, The trist had been arranged, One week before, but stranger The weather since then had changed. And it rained and rained the whole time, And so far above each mark The water rose, that the kentry All talked of building an ark, But I knew that Baptist meetin' Would go on jist as free. For like fish they take to water, And Maria would look for me. So undaunted by weather, I started, Upon my noble Gray, But when I got to Graham's mill. The bridge was washed away, Grand River was like an ocean, And the waves rolled laughing by, I cannot tell yer how sad 1 felt, — I prayed that I might die. But I told Old Gray my sorrow. And he listened to every word, — Don't tell me the hoss didn't understand, For before the last he'd heard His eyes shown bold defiance. And his nostrils flared out wide, And before I could check or hold him back, His broad breast cut the tide. 76 HUXTER PUCK I reached the place of meetin' Jist at the closiDg hymn, Through the window I saw Maria Beside her brother Jim. Ed. Jones was waitin' at the door Until she should come out, 'Pectin' of course to take her home, But he jist missed his route. I caught her eye in a moment, Then she slipt towards the door, Ed. Jones asort'a' made for her. When he saw me how he swore, But Old Gray sidled by the steps On, behind me, she leaped true, "Now Old Hoss, do your best," I cried. And Stranger, 3'ou bet, he flew. Ed. Jones aroused the meetin' Then hoss and mule and man, Pellmell a yellin' after us; My Goodness! how thy ran. But when they reached Grand River, They stopped, and raged to see, My "Old Hoss" swimming boldly o'er, B'aring Maria and me. A\'hen crost', Gra}' shook his wet hide, Then gallopped braA-ely on, Soon we reached Chillicothe, And the mighty race was won, Then Brother Dockery tied the knot. And when all was told again, He laughed and laughed and laughed so much. That hes been fat since then. AND OTHER POEMS. 77 Such was our Romance, Stranger, Not sich a bad affair, For out of this life 1' m sartin, Of joy we've had our share; And Old Gray and myself and Maria, Now calmly wait the day, When beside those two boys on the hillside, We too shall be laid away. d?e Screen Woocvs. An Arabian Romance. None hut the brave, None but tlie brave, None but the bruve. Deserve the fair. — Dkydex. THE SEVEN WOOERS, i Once in Old Araby lived long ago, A modest young maiden, as fair as the snow; So sweet was her smile, that the Peris of air Would dance in wild raptures its beauty to share; For Peris and Genii, they love woman's smile. And love in its sunshine the moments to while. Many's the gallant that wooed for her hand, — The Emirs and Viziers of the royal band Often enticed her with honor and gold ; But she would not abandon her green sylvan wold: Their honors she loathed, their gold she despised ; Her flowers and her gardens were all that she prized. There like a fairy she dwelt in a cct, And wreathed the windows with Forget-me-not, And twined the wild tendrils to wreath the door green. Before which sweet Tulips and Myrtles were seen, And many a wild flower there breathed the trace Of fragrant Ambrosia around this sweet place. XOTE 1. This iMH'm is one of llu' first stories in verse I ever wrote. In youtli I reiid the History of Araliiii and IMoliammed, and after reading I iiegan a Koniance in verse tlie ol).iect of wliich was to empluisize tlie lieroic prineiples of lihcrality and Justice that existed ainongtlie Saracens. The stoiy began at the hatt le of Tours wliere the Saracens were defeated hy tlie Franlcs under Cliarles Martel, and de.scriljed the escape of a youthful Saracen cliief from tliat field. The story I have never finisJied, and tiie above poem is anexcei'pt from it being one of the tales told by the young chieftain to a crowd of listening chieftains wliile trying to escape from Spain. 82 HUXTER rucK Thus, was the morn of her life whiled away Devoid of all cares, as the wild birds gay, Till in the sunshine of five and ten years, She sighed for a lover to share her wild cheers ; "But the one, whom she sought, was the careless and gay, Whose life is as bright as a glad Summer day. Seven brave gallants did woo for her hand, The first was a wonderer from Zaharack's sand, Who had seen many scenes on the bleak arid plain, With Bedouins, Simoons and hunger's dread reign; But she turned from his smile to her sweet garden bowers, To silent commune with the blossoms and flowers. The second, an Emir, in power and rank high. The third was a A'lzier who often stood nigh The throne of the Calyph, to fill every call. That the monarch requires of his brave seneschal; But she turned from their pleadings to answer the strain Of a sweet nightingale on the green, flowery plain. The fourth was a sailor, who oft o'er the main Had steered his brave bark through the tempest and raio. The fifth was a scholar who oft watched the sphere From Chaldea's bleak hills where the stars plain appear; But their stories she loved not. and turned from their tale To list to the breeze with its mournful regale. The sixth was the heir of the Calyph' s high throne, Who long wooed the maid in this humble cot lone; But naught could she see in his visage august, Where Love could repose in its confiding trust; So she turned from his presence and high lofty mien. To answer the robin that chirped on the green. AND OTHER POEMS. 83 The last was a youth, who in battle's dread roar Had oft his bright helmet 'mid red carnage bore, He whispered love's accents in this maiden's ear; And all her shy coyness did then disappear, And she heard his love whispers with deep thrilling joy, For her heart ever yearned for the brave soldier boy. But the sixth could ne'er brook such a rival to see, "Who won the maid's love, so in deep jealousy. He seized the brave youth in power's rashness drear, And forced him awa}' to to the land of Cashmere, There to e'er pine in his lone sad exile. And sigh for the sweetness of Zenobe's smile. Sweet Zenobe too, from her bright blooming flowers, He did bear away to the "City of Towers," ~ Where heralds loud blazoned the tidings of glee, That the prince's gay bridal that evening should be. But she whom he called there to share his high throne. In the midst of the crowd was sad gloomy and lone. In the midst of the festives, when joy was supreme. And gallants and maidens rejoiced in love's beam, And nobles and guests iu their purple robes fine, Quaffed from gold goblets old Araby's wine, A youthful, lone harper appeared at the door, And offered a strain, which they all called '^encore." Swift his apt fingers swept over the chords, Keenly he eyed all the ladies and lords, He glanced at the bride in her raiment of gold, Then did his brave harp a loud strain unfold And closed thus in cadence most thrilliog and grave: — "None can e'er vanquish the love of the brave." NoTK.'i. Biigdad. 84 HUXTER PUCK Here the lay ceased, and the guests did proclaim, A pledge of good wine to the brave minstrel's strain, High brimmed the cups with the red liquid's glare. Eager were all the symposium to share; But when the glad revels of mirth did subside, The bride was not seen by the gay prince's side. "To arms! ye base slaves!" He angrily crys, While the choler quick mounts to his red flashing eyes, "Mount my best steeds, and quickly persue! With whom has she fled of this dastardly crew? Ay, the minstrel! 0, gods! I do fear He's the one I have banished to far off Cashmere." Lo, on the Tigris! a boat small and frail Skims o'er the waters in quick anxious sail, Brave at the oar does the minstrel ply The fingers that over the harp strings did fly. Beside him sweet Zenobe cheers every stroke. That his brawny arms pi} with the strong oars of oak. Swift in pursuit are the boats from the shore, With wild execrations from the royal corps ; Unnerved still the minstrel his strong strokes ply, While the dark stormy waves are around rolling high ; — They toss his frail bark in their wild dashing glee, Yet still his calm voice cheers the sweet Zenobe. Alas! A high wave does the bark over throw, And mid the wild storm sounds the maiden's sad woe; — "Alas," she exclaims, "we are lost, but 'tis joy;" — 1 While o'er them the storm and the wild waves did flow. And falls in the arms of her brave soldier boy, Down, down in the depths, thus embraced they did go. AND OTHER POEMS. 85 "Oh save her! Oh save her!" The bridegroom loud cries "My crown to the one that her form shall arise," But vain was all effort, the waters ran high, And the dark clouds of death seemed a gathering nigh, And a Siren's loud voice calmly rang o'er the wave: — "None can e'er vanquish the love of the brave." Long did the bridegroom mourn Zenobe fair, Though cruel was his heart, yet love rested there, He built her a shrine in her sweet garden green ; And there all alone and in tears oft was seen, And there did inscribe, what his tears oft did lave: — "None can e'er vanquish the love of the brave." CI?e Pale of CTrcor>a. ■SVlien tliu twiliglit i-onios softly witli dew on tliero.se, Our thoughts would tosethor sour fondly and free, And I'd sing down thy oyolids to sweetest repose In a voice never heard on the land or tlie sea. 1 would feel the soft thrill of thy bosom, my love, As it glowed like a star in its heaven of charms; And thy spirit vtould rush like the coo of a dove, And fold me so fondly in two lily arms. — Geohge W. Waisdeb. THE VALE OF ARCOVA. ' Sweet vale of Arcova, by Euphrates' stream, — Sweet is thy landscape's ethereal gleam — Sweet are thy skies — so azure and blue, That so radiantly glow with a heavenly hue, — Sweet are thy breezes that morning and eve, Sigh through the forests of green olive trees, — Sweet are the songsters whose carols, so gay, Are chirped in their branches throughout the glad day, But sweeter than all is thy beauteous night, When the soft moonbeams play on the dewy grass bright. 0, who has not heard of this Orient vale? And felt his heart swell at its legend's regale? 0, this is the place, where in reverie strong, The dreamy soal may its deep visions prolong; For in legend old it is told, how the dead, Here congregate from their lone narrow bed, NOTK 1. This jjoeni i>. :ilso an excerpt from my Arabian Romance, but 1 did not K«t tlie mutt- rial of the story from Arabian History. Tlie story was told me \v}u»n a boy by Richard Slattery, my grandfather, wiio was a wondeful f^cnins in discoui-sinij on mystic tales of spirits, goblins, fjhosts, devils, etc. He told me of a place in Irolanfl, a deep valley between luf?h mountains, where bereaved wives and husbands on a certain day in the year could meet their lost mates and converse with them. • Tlie name ot the Valley, 1 have forgotten, and tlie VaU^ of Arcova is a child of uiy own invention. The story as told in this lioeni, was told me by ISIi-. Slatterj-, in hi* (juaint Oeltic way, and I have transferi-ed it from it> orifjional home in the Emerald Isle to tlu' banks of the Euphrates. T have also made the characters, bereaved lovers, inst<'ad of bereaved "wives and liusbands" which according to my way of tliinking al the time the poem was written is a great improvement. 90 HUXTER PUCK And on these swards silvered with gems of bright dew, Here do they pass in their solemn review, Here do they gather in converse to meet, And speak of the joys of Death's haven — so sweet; And here they will answer true love's bereaved cry. And gladden its sorrow by their presence nigh; — But no more need I tell how those spirits roam Between this sweet vale, and their dark narrow home. Here bereaved lovers, whom time and sad fate, — Their loves hold io severance, while in mortal state. Call from the grave with love's magical spell. The form they have lost for to say that farewell, — The only farewell that has anguish most deep, — That no hearts are so cold, but in its anguish weep, For we can say farewell to a brother in death. And stern Time shall banish the sorrow's sad breath; And e'en to loved parents, — we can say, " callings have given to unscruplous ad^•entu^ers, justifys my pen in voicing tlie sentiment of tliis (•ouy)let. 1(16 HUXTER rUCK • And long in envj^ vexed their jealous ire, With shapeless cotton, till they thought of wire/' "0, were I some great Solomon, whose lore, The world admires, 'twould be a thmg to prize. But ne'er were such a Solomon before, I'd be the paragon in mortal eyes; Sol's shade, itself, would hasten from the skies; And wince in envy to behold m)' wives.'" "King David was the good king, Jew's relate, And well forsooth his was a worth most deep, He filled a throne with honor to the state, Though in his youth he watched his lonely sheep; But brightest pictures must have lines of shading, — It made him frisk to see Mrs. Uriah bathing." Thus spoke young "Huxter Puck," as he was hight. It seemed no holy thought e'er crossed his mind, But let us hope if seen his heart aright, Its deepest throbbings were from pulses kind: — So only think his goodness was asleep; For we'll admit that it was buried deep. And you will see Love thaws the coldest heart. As the dropping water on the flinty stone Wears through the rockribbed mountain, so Love's art With grief once softened Pluto on his throne, When love lorn Orpheus pleaded Love's bequest. There burned kind pity in his stony breast. And you may see, ' twill my bold hero change, And bend his haughty knee before her shrine. And then with grief, 1 doubt not, though, 'tis strange, IJe'll woo the favor of the "tuneful Nine, " And for true solace, in his crushing grief, He'll seek sweet Poety to find relief. AND OTHER POEMS. 107 YouDg Huxter, as he was beginninor jifg^ Espied a maiden — fairer than the rose ; Such as object not eer to be a wife; But blush to crimson, if you dare propose; But despite the blushes that their feelings harry, Just propose, and they'll be sure to marry. So light her form did move amid the crowd, She seemed a spirit crowned with smile and blush, Bold Huxter felt his cynic heart beat loud. When first he met her in her beauty's flush ; Her lifted skirt did make that beating painy, But such was Avisdom, for you know 'twas rainy. There went a thrill into his deepest soul, Thoughts sprang within his bosom like a flame; Such thoughts no mortal hand has writ on scroll, Ablaze with passion, that do might could tame; Oh well might Muse such burning feelings beg, There's inspiration in a pretty leg. They met, and were acquainted, be that known, 'Tis tedious for to tell the where and how; They loved, for youthful hearts cannot be stone. She loved his light heart, he her modest brow: And Love cant figure with an odd abstraction. Two is the unit, one a nameless fraction. So these to beings, one, by Love's decree, Did often meet in glen, and shady lane; Young, innocent of heart, their artless glee. Would force a blessing from the coldest swain; But people now, when lovers take a walk, Will wink and titter, or else stand and gawk. 108 IIUXTER PUCK And they did seem in heart, so pure, so mild, As fond twin spirits of ethereal mould, Sojourners here in guise of earthly child, With souls e'er lifted to the starry hold, So Love's touch changed the cynic and the maid. They feared the end, for which I am afraid. For 0, the saddest ! they were forced to part, ! In tears 'twas written, and reread in groans, But duty called him, so he closed his heart. And went to saw wood for old farmer Jones, There lone in exile all his days to while ; And mourn his sweet love far away — a mile. But ere they parted, they did have a meeting. To weep adieu, in accents — ^^faltering weak, — That long remembered saddest of all greeting, When tears were mingled on each close pressed cheek, And arms entwining hold each embrace, The folds contracting almost banish space. Unique the parting, they had heard the tale Of Homeo in fair Italia's clime. Such to bold Huxter never could grow stale. He thought such parting was of bliss sublime, But why Italia has though loves hot fury, While poets make no mention of Missouri? For why should not Missouri be the land Of inspired song and happy minstrelsy; When every heart is but a smoldering brand, Of burning passion, throbbing wild and free, To burst in song, and breathe from chords of fire, A strain immortal from her unstruck lyre." AND OTIIIR POEMS. 109 And sure do not her sons deserve the goal Of honor meeded to the mighty dead? Though Eastern dotards deem our state the hole, Where thieves and bandits find a harboring shed; They yet must learn that such is quite erratic, E'en if Missouri does go Democratic. They are a race — warmhearted — simple — true, Beside each hearthstoue they've a vacant chair, "Where the worn stranger may his strength renew In friendly welcome, which dissolves all care; Their only fault, they sometimes tip the jug, And in hot youth are wild cats on the hug. If life abides, until Age spreads her snow, Missouri will of romance be the queen. And o'er her hills admiring bards shall go, To see the sunset on her prairies green : The land of homes, which noble hearts command, "Which even beggars call : ' 'The Beefsteak Land. " Upstairs and facing to the golden West, The night- apartment of his sweet heart lay, Where oft she mused, as a white angel blest — "Watching the last beams of the fading day, The soft beams sparkling, as they sank to rest — ■ Guling her swan throat, and her snowy breast. This evening she'd retired, but sleep was vain, She rose and by her window mused in tears, "They say he's left me. Oh, can Love again E'er bring him near me for to soothe my fears?'' "When lo — an object, which did make her gladder, She saw young Huxter nearing with a ladder. 11 <• HUXTER PUCK She knew him, and her smile spoke welcome rare. Her artless nature knew no blushing frown, Her hair loose flowing o'er her shoulders bare, She seemed a seraph in her snowy gown: — Ah Art! how pompous is thy beauty dressed, But Nature's simple beauty is the best. The ladder is ascended, heart to heart In fondest press, each beating bosom lay. But not a* whisper could a thought impart, Love's warm pent feelings ruled in silent sway. Her white arm round his waist held breakless hold, His round her soft neck pressed with force untold. "Farewell, farewell, one kiss and I'll descend!" Anpther kiss, but he descended not. Another clasp, but that did only tend To make him linger in that holy spot, When lo — he gasped in tones of flurried clipping; — "Hold I Hold me love! The ladder it is slipping." She held him ! Oh, so firm her tender arm, In one quick moment was as strong as steel ; Her maiden heart — unshaken by alarm. Felt that emotion, which the worriors feel, She braced herself, his weight to overweather, And drew him in the window like a feather. Down went the ladder— thundering — crashing — breaking, Making cruel havoc as it scraped the wall, Housed up from sleep below were spirits waking, "A kingdom for a light," rang through the hall. The frightened geese in terror waked to flee, Old Towser barked, and Tom Cat climbed a tree. AND OTHER POEMS. Ill Below was all confusion, frenzy reigned, "Where is the shotgun?" rose above the din, Young Huxter paled as if his heart was pained. He knew Sir Shotgun has a deadly grin, To man, though virtue has his aim inspired, In lady's chamber after she's retired. "What could be done was quicker done than said, The whitegowned maiden heard the stairway ring, Above the shame which might dishonor shed, She knew that murder might its red bolts fling; And sure 'twas right if aught could it prevent. Such fell disaster from an accident. Quickly rushed she to her downy bed, Threw back the feather tick, says; "Jump in here:' He jumped, she smoothed it lightly o'er his head, And then got in herself with happy cheer, Blush not, kind Reader, seek not to bemean 'em, You know there was a feather tick between 'em. The door burst open I JjO, her angered sire, With lamp and shotgun like a murdering Jade, For e'en his eyes, did flash unearthly fire, But all was quiet, and Sleep's arm clasped the maid, "Oh dearest papa,'" waking she exclaimed: "Come kiss me, you looked worried, who is blamed. ""- He neither answer, nor a notice gave; But scanned the chamber, as a wolf of prey, In every nook, but not a lurking knave Did shake a shadow in his searching way; He gave his old head then a mighty twirl: "He's gone the villian, that would steal my girl." 112 HUXTER PUCK Next came the housewife ia her nightly robe, With face as tiurried as the wind-blown snow, With eagle eye each recess she did probe, "The bed," she thinks, "seems not so very low;" But the cute maid to scrutinizing stop, That dubious elavation rolled on top. Mother and sire, then sat beside their child, And told how pirate bold in bygone day — Climbed ladies window, then o'er ocean wild, Had borne her as a prize far, far away ; — When wonder and amazement broke all ease ; From neath the pillow came a might}' sneeze. "The gods and furies" shouts the father wild, "Kill the villian !" did the mother say, And snatched up hurriedly her lovely child. Lest danger should o'ertake her where she lay, — Young Huxter thought; "Alas my love so hot, But brought me where I'll get a load of shot!' But one quick idea changed his night to day. He set his teeth, "I'll flunk 'em," he exclaimed. And as the sire and matron at him aimed, He crouched himself as tiger wheu at bay. Then made a spring with one tremendous oath, And flopped the heavy feather tick o'er both. Crushed sank they there— the ' 'armed hosts o'erpowered. In medley mixture 'neath the weight went down, Above bold Huxter, whom no danger cowered, Sat like a monarch with a kingly crown, "Lie there," he says, "ye souls for death so gory, And patiently now hear my simple story. ' AND OTHEB POEMS, 111 He stated then the circumstances plain, And begged them to weigh kindly every point, Why he was found where honor should disdain, Was not that rirtue had a crooked joint; "No, both were placed, so virtue could not fall, A feather tick guards virtue like a wall." But all in vain his reasoning power to calm. The irate sire did writhe beneath the weight: "He will get up !" th^ maid screamed in alarm, "Not so, by Jove !" says Huxter, '-I'll just state. That I'm on top, the monarch of the da}'. And to this kingdom I have come to stay. ' But like proud Caesar was his boast o'erthrown. The mother, fainting 'neath the weight, did cough. The maiden could not bear her gasping moan, "You cruel thing," she said, and pushed him off, "VsV tu Brute. '" he said with look dismay, And turned and down the stairway fled away. Out in the lonely midnight then he fled, That last rebuke a burning in his heart, And 0, 'tis sad, that his high purpose led, To such disastrous ending. From the start There was misfortune, not a lucky breeze From falling ladder till the traitor sneeze. "That was the most unkindest siurr.e of all," Which threw on spotless innocence a stain, Which, though the Muse is truthful, some will fall. And make that virtuous feather tick inane, A sinful thought — but minds in such condition. Would make a zero of the best partition. 114 IIUXTER PUCK But gentle Reader, you that know how pure Are woman's ways w'o'n't cavil at my tale, But hear with kindness, and again be sure, You'll see bold Huxter in a second gale, But now 1 bid you, "Gramercy." but wait, And know this hero from our wondrous state. 4^^uxter Pixck.^ PART II. Vor Huxtcv w;is on this pdiut i);it riotic, lie IhouH'lit oTiu rami as <,'oo(1 as any othoi", Hii iu'ver k';irncd that custom, hero exotic. AVliich makes a blue blood to eushive a bvotlier; All kins's, all nobles arc no worth at all To independent manhood with .some sail. Pagk UK. HUXTEK PUCK. PART II. O, Dawn, presiding goddess of tlie morn, Rosy wreathed thick in azured gold ; When glow thy bright eyes then the Day is born, O, birth resplendent ! (rlorious to be hold ! The stars of Heaven hide, the Darkness flee, The roosters crow, which always waken me. But, glorious Dawn, some hail thee with a sigh, Some owl souled mortals, fearful of the light, And others, who when care and sorrow's nigh, Would rather weep unpitied in the night, The darkness being a veil to hide the tear, That e'er in salty bitterness is near. So felt young Huxter, when the morning gray Dawned on the earth, he was a sorry wight, He shrank from view in hugger-mugger way, "By Jove," says one, "Young Puck must not be right, His mind is wandering, what on Earth can be ? A brick like him could no misfortune see." Ah, not misfortune weighed upon his breast, But first love's shaft of disappointment keen Was quivering in his heart in fierce unrest. And raising bedlam, where a soul had been. But day light bright soon made him stir his bones, For he had service pledged at farmer Jones. 118 HDXTER I'UCK Rousing himself, and shaking off the spell, He says: "Yes, I must go, but I would fain, That life were naught, for hope is now a hell. When love's pure honor bears a crimson stain; In Scandal's mouth my story will be tough, But for myself, 1 would not care how rough." But there's another, she, 1 loved, will see The scowl of scorn, the looks, the jibes, the jeers. And how 'twill crush her! she in modesty, Pure as the violet when its bloom appears ! My Grod ! What fate could make the picture sadder, Caused in a moment by that luckless ladder." «