PS 3525 .083 L4 1901 Copy 1 LGAVnCS PPvOn AI\50I\ LODGC BY MARY FRENCH MORTON Chicago, III. Press of The Blakely Printing Company igoi The library of co'mgress, Two Coi-iES Received NOV. 25 1901 COPVBIQHT E^aRY CLASS O/XXo. No / ^^ />^ COPY B. 1^ ^ ('o|)\ riKlit. I'Jiil. 1!\ MAKY I'KI'.NCII MoiriDN A FAIR LITTLE WORLD OF MY OWN. I'VE a fair little world of my own, A place where I enter alone With Fancy to stray O'er her beautiful way And list to her nuisical tone. O, she shows nie such wonderful drcan's And I see such radiant gleams Of all that is bright And all that is right : We drift over wandering streams, Over streams with a murmur so sweet No one can their music repeat. I find not a word To tell what I've heard From voices whose echoes were fleet. And so oft when with Fancy I t1ee I turn to look backward and see The charm that she lends To faces of friends Who live not in visions with ir.e. A charm from the Hashing in sight Of thoughts that with love are alight, Like halos they fall With grace over all And linger with tenderness bright. Away from the tumult and drone. From throngs in which one is alone. The shadows uplift And restful tides drift In that fair little world of mv own. WINTER'S LAUGHTER. A t IIKISTMAS CHIMF.. Tlu' sleighbells are tlie Winter's laugliter That through the veiling snow comes lliuviu^t When flakes are hither, thither blowing Like airy sprites in a.ll ways going I'.liiwn on hy winds that follow after. ll rijiples with a mirth beguiling. With glaijness in its joyous greeting. hair, bygone memories repealing. To hearts grown old in time's swift fleeting, 'lill sad, gra\e lips nnberid in smiling, .\n(l with tile >()und of light hoofs praneing. The laughter all its joy is flinging .\o\v here, now there, in strains of singing, Till quick", \oung feel are gaily springing And roguish e_\e> with glee are dancing. It rijjples wiih a sweet intoning Across the snowdrifts' gho>tly trailing .\nd sentls its merry challenge hailing The \(iices of the Old ^'ear'^ wailing. .\nd mocks their soft and plaintive moaning. The fro/en forest waits and listens To catch the laughter, pealing, shaking In trills, the ^leeping trees awaking. Till cr_\-stals from the branches breaking l'"all ringing where the ice stream glistens. () .^kighdiells are the joyd)ells swelling. When road>ides are with jewels twinkling. To rise and fall in chime and tinkling. Their showered tones of music sprinkling. With Winter's laughter tkirough them welling! THE BACKLOG'S SONG OF SUMMER. There's a sweet, entliralling magic Lurking in the glowing fire. Soft enchantment in it flickers, And the song of hidden lyre From the gnarled log's rugged surface Sounds in faintest, fitful tone. Oft a mirth is in its ringing. Oft it h.as a saddened moan. Gentle voices of the woodland Echo, in its music weird. Melodies from great tree monarchs Standing in their strength unseared. Only those who sit and listen By the restful hearthfire's gleam Hear the snugs that lead the fancy Speilhound in a happy dream. All the carols of the summer ]\furnuu- friim the forest's sheen Where the backlog learned its singing. Swaying with the houghs of green. There it heard the songs from heaven. Heard the south wind wdiisper low Midst the scenes that seem to linger Sunriecked in the embers" glow. With the f.itting flames and shadows \'isions come and disappear; Fan-, loved faces of the missed ones Li the twilight hover near. Fondest hopes long since abandoned Come again with fresh, new life — Far away in wintry tempest Lies the world of care and strife. GARDEN SECRETS. If the Irutli be known The fairies alone The garden secrets know. O. if one would alight By me in its flight O'er blossoms, to and fro ! I would say, "O stay ! Don't hurry away. 'Sly dear .Miss Shining Wings. \\'on"t you stop for repose and sit on this rose That rocked by breezes swings? In the garden here is much that's (|ueer. And fairies are so wise. Would there i)e any harm in lending your charm To help my mortal eyes""" "I should like to see where dreams can be That poppies hide away. And to take a sly peep where daisies keep The words their petals say. And I long to glance at you when you dance And lady slippers wear. Are they easily torn? Do they ever get worn In trip])ing through ihe air?" "With your charm, my ear may learn how to hear Wl'i.nt ])ansies have to tell ; Ah, so nuich they have thought, no longer they ough In silent mood to dwell. Tell me how, O please, to And their heart's ease. Will they give a bit to me? Does the faint ting-a-ling of the blue bells' ring Call fairies home to tea?" '"Does their tinkle low n'.ake four o'clocks know Their waking time each day? Will a snapdragon bite? Do you think it right To pinch one just in ])Iay?' Are those pretty things, the tl(iwers with wings. Contented on their stem ?" Do butterflies tease the fluttered sweet peas To fly away with them ?" I have looked all day Where blossoms were gay, For dainty, flitting wings; I have searched in the night But never caught sight Of fairies that know these things GLAD DAYS. Some days bring happiness along. Each flying hour is full of song, W'e know not why. The world wears radiance that's new. Far deeper is the tint of blue Spread o'er the sky. The mingled sounds that fill the air Have in our mood a happy share, And sweet reply From countless friendly voices sings ; Some charm a welcome message brings From all that's nigh. Perchance all shining, flitting things Waft blithesome thoug'hts before their wings That toward us fly. O days that never come at call ! Their marvels in our pathways fall. We know not why. We list, surprised, to trill of liird. As if the ear had never heard So sweet a cry. The cheer that's told in hum of bees. The impulse brought by quickened breeze Which hastens by, Make some days seem of joy a part. Till dreams of beauty fill the heart. We know nut whv. FACE THE SUNSHINE. Tliough yesterday was dark witli glcK.im. Wlien sorrow shadowed all tliy way. Till suffering and anguish rose Cloudlike to hide and blot nut day. And through thy heart swept loud retrain, A tempest's song of grief anil pain, Seek not to-day to elose thine eyes. Nor backward look when earth's bright glows Seeni cruel mockery that comes To follow smilingly thy woes. While darkness lends thy soul relief And gi\es sad welcome to thy grief. Lift up thy tired, bowed head, dear one. To face once luore the shining light That slowly, but so surely will Dispel thy spirit's lengthened night. Look up with dim, tear-blinded eyes To see to-day's fair, dazzling skies. Grief's darkness waits to bide all else But self's strong, urgent claims. Toward others will the chastened hopes Oi brightened hearts send out their aims. Not now, 1)ut sometimes will the years Show thee the joys sunlit through tears. Ere long the bruised and storm-tossed buds Of struggling hope will show their hue. With pure, sweet fragrance will unfold Their blossoms and will find anew The life and strength of all that lies P)eneath the glow of heaven's fair skies. Turn toward the warmth of (iod's great love To find new impulse for thy will Till thou canst bid the jangled tones Of '-orrow's discord to be still. While clouds of yesterday will roll Bevond the dawn that greets thv soul. 1 6 THE PASSING SHOWER. AKBOR LODGE. From o'er the prairie the wind blows by. The soft clouds float in the clear blue sky. Afar, o'er meadows and fields of green. The coming mist of the rain is seen. Tall trees along the horizon stand ; Below is sinking the rolling land In curving wa\es which fall and rise. A traniinil, motionless sea it lies. And down the slopes with their verdured tint The shower comes, and the faintest glint Of silver gleam from its somber gray Is shining out from its fringing spray. And u[) the hills whore the corn fields grow. O'er orchards slanting in fruitful row. O'er parching earth with its furrows deep. The fresh drops fall in their onward sweep. They reach the woodland that curves between The pasture cleft by the dark ravine. And creep midst leaves as if sad to go To paths that wind in the shade below. The wet air comes like a swelling tide. From great barn doors that are open wide The farmer watches the bowing grain That crowns his toil on the fertile plain. From country homes, over hedged roads down. The shower comes to the dusty town. And ]ielts and tunefully taps each pane With rapid chime of a gay refrain. Then, joining the turbid Alissouri's sweep. The darting drops in its current leap. Borne on in flight o'er the basin land To where, uprising, its outlines stand. 17 Still on beyond, o'er the distant view Where hazy blnffs wear an opal hue, The drifting cloud of a summer day Melts out of sight in its Heeting way. The sunbeams glance, when the rain has tied. ()n lowly grasses with jewels spread. And seek the gems in their hiding place Within each flower's uplifted face. The shining Iea\es and the tree> upbear .A network radiant in the air. The prairie smiles with the fresh, sweet power ()f new life brought by the iiassing shower. KINSHIP W ITH THE TREES. .\K]U)R LODGE. Beneath the far-outreaching arch of boughs That sweej) with majesty on high Some potent charm the human heart endows With joy th:it shares the grandeur nigh. A joy that feels the strong and sulitle boud That draws it with a kinship's tie To wait and list while all the trees re^poud \\'ith sweet conipanionshiiVs reply. Within the trees there springs the eager life I'hat works, unseen, with wondrous care. Th;il tills their cells with strength and vigor rife Erom r(Tots to highest twigs in air: That l>rings the yearly store for solid grain. Built ever outward, ring by ring. \\ bile upward, for the gifts from sun and air. The Iniughs their open leaflets tling. They stand like stalwart men whose cradled dtiys Were blessed with fair enxironment. \\"hose minds ur.folded in the happy ways Where all the Ix-st of life was l)lent. iS Till added grace and force and wisdom's gain Built characters that rose sublime To meet unmoved the storms that sweep in vain To check the growth that comes with time. With rugged, broken bark or scars" deep trace The trees wear marks of force within. Like lines that mirror on the human face The hearts' pure thoughts, or stain of sin. In shaded roads or in the woodland way, When on the trees shines morning's beam Or glows the mellow light of golden day Or when the moon lends silver gleam. Alluring witchery pervades the air. A friendly spirit lurks in each soft breeze And calls the heart to feel the tie that's there. The bond of kinship with the trees. SIMPLE TRE.\SURES. Was ever lofty mount so high Among the Alpine ranges As Grandsire's woodpile, still in sight Beyond the long years' changes ! Were ever braver tourists known Than we whose hearts were quaking While clim1)ing up witli slipping feet That kept the sticks all shaking. Till there we sat perched on the top In breathless joy and pleasure. Such happy lads and lassies 'midst A store of simple treasure. We tore the crackling shagbark up In pieces long and brittle; Soft bits for boats from cottonwood Were broken off to whittle. Beneath the hark the logs were white And snu:>t)th like satin lining; Above lay flecks of velvet moss Like jewels in their shining. W'lien o'er the rough pile's jagged edge Our eager eyes tried peeping. Like honey lay the drops of sap From out the new logs creeping. About us was our childish world, The lane that seemed ne'er ending. The corn house near, the great red l>arn Where joys untold were blending. We smiled down at the clucking hens \\ith tiny chicks of yellow. And jeered the gobbler as he passed. A strutting, cross old fellow. Sweet forest odors filled the air Like those we met when jjlaying That we were (iypsy vagrants hold And through the woods went straying. Ah, well-a-day! We still look back Like wistful lads and lassies And smile e'en though that woodi)ile stands Before our tear-dimmed glasses. TO-DAY. O beautiful To-day! How fleeting is thy sway! Thou art here with treasure Xo beam can measure. And then thou art awaj-. We heed thee not, perchance. But l)ackward turn our glance, And we sigh with grieving. Past joys percei\ing That loss doth but enhance. And yd \vc surely kimw Thou comest to bestow Precious liours for using, And time for clioosing Our har\est seed to sow. No future days reveal Tliat, hidden by God's seal. Which they have in keeping, AUhough with weeping To them we oft appeal. But thou. To-day. we see ! O. dull our hearts must be, If we grasp not duty And miss the beauty Of moments brought with thee. Thou fragment of all time! Within each swift hour's chime Thou hast safe in holding The fresh unfolding Of Heaven's truths sublime. THE GRACE OF SILENCE. Of all ilie graces that we seek To nials'e ou.r li\es complete. Not one more hea\enly beauty wears Nor shines with light more sweet Than the true grace which seals the lips .Xnd checks the words that spring With careless m-irlh or bitter scorn. Until the tongue is lashed to fling A taunt to one who turns from good And falls in life's swift rush — Ah th.cn. O lips, in silence wait : The loving Eather bids thee hush. 23 Tlie one who wanders nui\- ha\e Irod So thoughtlessl.v along. Too eagerly, too far led on By pleasure's subtle song. Or burdened with a hidden woe Some saddened hearts may aehe Until their weary, blinded eyes Sec not the path they take. .\h. wl"io so perfect as to feel No penitential blush? O kingly words of Christ I "Judge not." Close lips, (ind's mercy bids thee hush. A FROLIC IX THl'. TREK TOPS. They're liaxing the funniest time to-night High up in ilie lops n\ the irees: There's a ipiick hltle rush and a gay little stir .\nd a blithe little song fnuu llie breeze. .\ group iif (lid friends on the lawn llie\- stand. '{"lie maples, the elm'- and the oaks. With their boughs all entwined they are shaking their heads -And they seem to be whispering jokes. .Ml day, with the light of the sun above. The leases were as still as could be. In their pretty green robes they were hanging asleep Or the\' drowsily nodded to me. BiU now in a twitter thc\' ir(i\-e about. The branches toss up in um'est : There is danger. T fe;ir. of their waking the liirds. Who ha\-e gone long ago to the nest, 'i'here m.ay be a dance 'mid the swinging boughs. Perhaps there's a cpiarrel ! Who knows? For the moon's looking down as if trying to frown At the mischief she sees. I suppose, Tl'cv whisk- to and fro and they sway aside; The leaves seetn to lau.gh with the breeze. There's a rustling of fun and of frolic to-night All around in the to]).- of the trees. 24 RAB. ARBOR LODGE. What does he think of, my Scotch colUe' He looks so far away With searching eyes so deep, so speaking With words he cannot say. Across the wide and rolling pran-ie We two together walk In fond companionship, two comrades Whose hearts together talk. He looks at me with comprehension Of all my love for him, \A'hile in his face glows such affection. It makes my eyes grow dim. And when I pat his head and smiling Bend down to scan his face. It brightens like a sunbeam shining — Then off we go at rapid pace. To roam on plains of fair Nebraska. To wander through ravine. To climb the sloping hilltop's summit And look beyond o'er waves of green. Up there, my Rah seems lost in thinking And looks so far, so far Away, like sculptured statue standing. Silent, lest the scene I mar. I stand beside him, feeling, knowing Where all his thoughts must be. And mine go, too, to "Bonnie Scotland," Our home-land o'er the sea. I see the hills of blooming heather. I hear the shepherd's cry. And feel the bracing air of Highlands That proudly greet the sky. 27 And like a flood comes sweep of visions, The gathered clans appear In gayest hues and plaids of tartan. Tile chieftain's plumes are near. Mark I loud and shrill the bagpipe's calling, The herald's shout alarms, And Scottish heroes come with springing To lead their hosts to arms. The warlike pictures fade and vanish, The air is tilkd with M)ng. The harper sing^ of love and glor_v In liallads (jraint and long. .\nd then the strains gmw faint and fainter Like lales of ancient lore: .Siifi whisitered calls come up from woodlands And we are hack once nmre. Again amidst ihe roll of ])rairies. We're in the snndil land. And "i'iali." 1 say. and Rah looks toward me And — wlII. we understand I We've both been roaming o'er the lieather. Both hearts the charm have felt And love that drew us to the Highlands \\'here once our father^ dwelt. AN INVITATION. With.in the calm seclusion Among the quiet nooks Where wait the friendly faces Of long-familiar books, I turn the poet's pages And read the quaint words o'er, When, with the faintest whisper. A zephyr swings the door. 28 Once more the past attracts me To journe\' liy the .side Of pilgrims who "in fehiwesciiipe Toward Caunterbury ryde." When lo, a wave of fragrance Sweeps through the ancient lore ! With whiffs of wild rose perfume The zephyr swings the door. As if the gentle Chaucer, Who loved all Nature well. Still wandered forth in spirit. Enchanted by her spell. And sent his voice which lingered From ages gone before To join a pleading zephyr That softly swings the door. It swings to show a glimmer Of rippling waters How, Of white-sailed visions fleeting And drifting clouds of snow ; Of woodlands green where quiet Is held with peace in store : With subtle plea alluring. The zephyr swings the door. Fleet fancy opens swiftly The portals of the years : Afar, in shining meadows. The poet's form appears. Away from courtly splendors To scenes that charmed him more, He beckons one to follow When fancy swings the door. To follow where, mid daisies, In eager joy he went To seek in lonely pathways His deepest heart's content ; Where words began their singing To echo o'er and o'er. Into the realm of Nature He swung th.e poef's door. 31 From \t'r(lant arches rising Wlicre forest shadows sleep. From fields o'erspread with sunlight. From ])anks where flowers creep. Still calls his voice inviting Gra\e eyes from hookish lore To wander forth with Nature \\ hen zephyrs swing the door. .AlORXIXG tlLORlES. O children dear, awake betimes To hear the nidrning glory chimes! At break of day They ring for play. And sweetly call. "Come, don't be late When all the ji)ys of morning wait." Up, ever ujjward toward the sun The n:(n-ning glories swifth- run. They climb and Hing Their bells to swing Far over all the lovely heads Of llowers in the garden lieds. They've trailed their leaves beyond the ground And twined the old rail fence amund. They've co\ercd all The gate post tall. And hung the broken tree with green Until its liark can scarce be seen. All dressed in colors like the sky They've crept above the lattice high. "The world is bright With golden light ; () come and see its shining hue!" Ring out the bells of palest blue. 32 swN\\\viaMiia.\!i»ainaaa»»»»niia ^BS^W^^aa H^ii O listen, while the faint chimes steal Above us in a sunrise peal! "The dewdrops here Are fresh and clear," Call bells that swing in robes of pink, "Come out and see the flowers drink!' "A silver web the spider weaves And fastens it among my leaves. It hangs in air And looks so fair. The pretty lace was made last night," Sing swaying bells of snowy white. The fairies say. I've understood. That only children who are good And sweet and dear This chiming hear. For them alone the blossoms sing .\nd bells of morning glories ring. A RIDE IN THE OLD STREET CAR. NEBRASK.V CITY. Away from the scenes of traffic's whirl. Where the road goes sloping down To meet the flowing river's blue That lies below the town. The old street car goes jogging on Like a rambler on his way. Who pauses here and loiters there. And yet seems loth to stay. From out its eastern door we see The blutYs that melt away In distaiu liaze to softly gleam With jeweled tints of day; And toward the wide, out-spreading west The peaceful couiUry lies. With glints of gold, the meadows green Curve under azure skies. 33 Drawn un by imilcs wliose tinkling bells Sing out a plaintive air. Unmindful that the old brown car Shows marks of grim Time's wear, Wc sit content and dream out dreams That come with summer hours. And wonder if a lua\enly land Could be more fair than ours. Perchance, in thought, we see again Tlie long, white-canvased trains Of pioneers who passed this way To cross far-reaching ]ilains. Like phantoms from the by-gone years The\' come and pass from \iew. — O bra\e hc'irts journeyed to the west WHien this old town was new I Beyond the wheat-helds. toward the south, God's Acre crowns the hill — There sleep our dearest, left alone Where all is hushed antl still. J^.ul from the old car's windows We see the sunbeams lie Where shining stones point ui)ward. With jtromise. to the sky. So back and forth it goes each day, Fritm flowing river's brim To haunts of birds in shadowed grove Whose quiet paths are dim. Through traffic's stir, by hillside still. The old car jogs along And one who sits within may hear Life's varied strains of song. ^lARCH WINDS. ARBOR LODGE. O, the roaring, boisterous, loud Marcli wind! How it bows the gaunt tree tops ! How it sweeps the fields till the dry stalks clash How its voice in moaning drops Till it shrieks and wails O'er the mournful tales That it tells in the chimneys tall ! With turbulent might Roars the wind at night, With furious, wrathful call. O, the merry, frolicsome, wild March wind I How it blows across the plain With a rush and whirl and a cheery cry Like the ring of a gay refrain ! O, it thrills dull hearts Till their sloth departs And the toils and the hopes grow bright. "Again to the strife With a fresh new life !" It sings in the spring's clear light. There's a gentle tone in its soft low voice As the March wind slowly creeps Through the quiet air, with a call so faint O'er the place where the snow drop sleeps. O, it moves along With a subtle song! When it lingers among the firs To whisper that spring Will their new leaves bring. Each tree in its rapture stirs. 35 APPLE BLOSSOMS. In the springtime, bright and breezj% On a May day. clear and fair. Stood a lionnie maiden, smiling. Willi the sunshine on her hair. And her eyes were lifted upward To the blos,soms overhead. With a happy look of wonder; Joyous were the words she said: "Apple blossoms, apple blossoms. O. 1 know, and know it well. As you're swaying just above me. Something sweet you have to tell. Can you guess of whom Pm dreaming. Ciuess the name I dare not speak."" All the pink within the blossoms Was reflected on lier cheek. Clustered branches bent around her. Waiting buds Inmg o'er her way. Wliile her joy was shyly whispered To the flowers of the May. "Apple blossoms, apple blossoms. How your fragrance fills the air! Just as love, so true and tender. Maketh all my life most fair." When again upon the blossoms Gazed the pretty little maid. Fled were blush and smile of greeting. Sad her eyes with pensive shade. As in plaintive tone she murmured. "It wa^ all a dream. Ah me!" Silently the white leaves downward Fell like teardrops from the tree. Roguish Cupid oft lies hidden In an orchard's charming maze; But his arrow\s aimed through flowers Youthful hearts will only graze. Springtime love so oft. like blossoms. Short-lived, lingers but to die: Like the petals, off it flutters When a fitful breeze blows by. 36 \-*^t^»- ^0- GRAND.MOTHER'S LAST SPINNING. Her well spent seventy years were o'er When she cried, "Let me have my wheel once more ; My spinning wheel from the garret bring, I fain wiuild hear its dear voice sing." Well pleased she smiled when the wheel was found And again at her touch began its round; With sweet content and with movement slow She walked beside it. to and fro. Her face was bright a.s if joy of youth Had returned to adorn its strength and truth; With silver gleam curved the hair, snow white, Above her brown eyes' eager light. We know that, borne by the years, ere long She would listen, enrapt, to the angels' song; Our hearts' deep lo\e had a startled thrill Of wonder that we kept her still. She paused, as if knowing our thoughts, to say, "No, my children, I cannot always stay. So oft through life I have been bereft. So luany gone ! So few are left !" "His will be done who died to save. But I hope ne'er to see another grave ; I W'Ould go soon and in rest abide To welcome you at eventide." And well her radiant face portrayed That her thoughts to the "many mansions" strayed ; With peace that only God's children feel She turned again to her spinning wheel. In its low hum to her heedful ears Was a tender refrain of bygone years ; Of haunts she knew and loved it told. Familiar tones it seemed to hold. Of luirth and laughter, of children's glee. Of voices that called her again to see The faces shining with love-light fair. The sunny gleams of wavy hair. 39 So plain, so real, to her ihey seemed All the present was lost, she fondly dreamed Of her young life on the dear old farm 'Mid hallowed ties of home's sweet charm. The wheel sang on till its plaintive sound Told of many a low and grassy muund : Her heart away from its hum and whirl Was led beyond the "gates of iiearl.'" The setting sun sent its parting rays; As they lighted the mom with golden haze They softly fell on the tear-dimmed eyes. And grandmother paused in mild surprise. The wheel's song ceased as she dropi)ed her hand And she spoke as if all her Iiousehold hand From earth and heaven were at her side : "Yes. we shall meet at e\'entide." SUNSET. ARliOK I.01)(;K. White, snow white is the glittering ground Stretching afar in the prairie land: The fierce winds sing o'er the hidden paths That wind where the lonely woodlands stand Cold and grave is the mist of l)lne Shrouding the hill> where they meet the sky; Beneath the desolate orchard's brown And l)are woven bough-^ the >h;ul.'w> lie. Slowly dawning a radiance breaks, Shining through dusk of the somber West Till dazzling sunbeams gather in throngs To follow the day's last hour to rest. Clouds that loitered with shadowing veil Swept from the sun. draw their folds aside As if a home for the weary wcirld Were opened with all its portals wide; Outward, welcoming warm light falls. Gleaming like fireside flashings of gold. To call the desolate children of earth Away from the night time gloom and cold. THE KITCHEN BALL. The ground was white with drifting snow Beneath the cloudy sky, And cold and chill, with hitter hlast. The wintry wind swept hy. \\'iiliin the farm house, quaint and old, The kitchen fire burned low, And from the open chimney shone With warm and fitful glow. The kettle sat in mild content Upon the heartli that night. And, suddenly, in gleeful way It sang with all its might. When louder shrieked the wind without, The kettle chimed within. Till through the room were ringing sounds Of such a merry din That all the shining little sparks. In eager, restless play. Went dancing, dancing in the air. With gleam and twinkle gay. And quickly flames went darling up The chimney, wide and deep ; Still higher, higher up they flew With wild and joyous leap. Across the smooth, long, yellow floor The flying shadows sped ; Upon the ceiling, o'er the wall. The twilight dance they led. They sprang from out the corners dim., They darted swiftly round. And, lightly flitting to and fro. In gliding chase they wound. They danced around the sleeping puss, Who, curled up in a chair. Ne'er dreamed that merry shadows sly Were joined in frolic there. 41 But. wide awake upon ils slielf, The cluck stood in its place And, marking time with steady tick Looked down with cheerful face. But not a sound of softest tread Within the room was heard. No voices rang in mirthful laugh ( )r hreathed in whispered word. (). lung the tireless dancers tlew — The (lames and shadows tall : So still they were that no oni' knew Thev led the kitchen hall. THE SPKLLBOrXl) .Sl.l- k.l'l'R.S. When ])retly green grasses crec]) out of the ground And look up lo see if the sun is aroimd. Then old King Winter falls fast a>leep. His shnnher'- are long antl sound and ^\vv\^. He sleejjs through the springtime hright and gay. Through winds of the ]\Iarch and l)lossoms of May, He sleeps while the roses are nodding their heads To little hlue violets down in their heds. Xot ex'en a dream of the birds h;i-> he As they llutier and sing" so merrily: Nor of hrook^ that ripple and dance .all day Through meadows and woods where children play. Naught knows he of the golden sheaves. Of the ripened fruit or the falling leaves That turn from green into scarlet gay And off on the breezes float away. Poor Winter King! If he only knew How sunnner day- look with >kies of hlue! O. wouldn't he have a great surprise On a sweet June dav. if he'd open his eves! 42 Away to the Dreamland, calm and still, Fair Summer flies when the days grow chill, And little Jack Frost in a mischievous way Throws over her train just a twinkle of spray; So she's off for a sleep wdien the winds are bold And sing of the fierce and bitter cold. Then Winter holds rein through the starlit night, And, waving his scepter in morning light, He scatters about from his casket rare His jewels to shine in the silvery air. And smiles as they sparkle and tlash and gleam From ice-covered tree and frozen stream. With her head at rest in a roseleaf cap The beautiful Summer goes on with her nap. And she'll never know how the snowflakes fall. How sleighbells jingle and coasters call. And children are laughing when comes the cheer Of Merry Christmas and glad New Year. O. wouldn't this sleeper be greatly amazed If ever her eves on a snowstorm gazed ! THE THRESHOLD. The slender threshold bar there lies Between the great, wide world and mine. Before the realm of rest and peace It holds its strong and steadfast line. And none, unliidden. cross beyond. A stern defense its presence yields; With strength as of a mighty host The guarded sphere of home it shields. And only memories come in Tn !)ring their welcome guests at will. Whose footsteps wander in and out Or wait and linger on the sill. In never-ceasing-line they come From out shadowed years long flown ; In never ceasing line they go Bevond the threshold once their own. 43 When quiet hours bring waking dreams The grave ancestral guests appear, A throng whose eyes seem ever more To rest where ties of home were dear. And fancy calls the pictured forms To fill the space within the door ; Their watchful faces smile above The slender bit of oaken lloor. Their treasured words that time has stored In hoarded fragments, brief and rare. The records of their noblest deeds, Seem whispered in the hallowed air. Until the plain, long-trodden bar Becomes a sacred household shrine ; Fond thoughts cross o'er it with the dead To threshold of the life divine. TO BELLA, IN HER YELLOW GOWN. .\RG0R LODGE. In the early summer morning's light She swept the dewdrops down From the drooping boughs and jeweled grass That brushed her yellow gown, As along the orchard's w^inding path She walked with tranquil grace Like a Ceres seeking harvests' gold, With watchful, smiling face. O the lawn lay green and stretched before Her feet its shining way. And she crossed it like a vision bright, A sunbeam of the da}- ; Or a mystic damsel brought, perchance. By weird Aladdin's charm To wander in her gleaming robes About a quiet farm. 44 And the dazzling sky held up its blue, The arching trees bent down Till in sylvan frame the dark-eyed maid Shone out in yellow gown, Like a Moorish princess from afar Whose shrouding veil was lost, Or a pictured form from Art's fair realm. With Nature's gems embossed. Like a glowing flower was the face Above the yellow gown. With the petals' velvet on the cheek And on her dusky crown. All the golden pansies growing low Looked up as she drew near. And their glances told their secret thought "One like ourselves is here." QUIET PATHS. There are quiet paths in life That lie in ways unseen. Sometimes they lead through haunts of peace, Where harvest fields are green. Like the hidden streams that run Beneath the dark earth's breast, They oft unheeded wind below The busy world's unrest. O'er the quiet paths of life Cross eager, jostling throngs Of men intent on selfish needs Or overcome by wrongs. And the souls who seek for good And men with weary feet And sinful ones who shrink from light. Here welcome greetings meet. 45 Here the little children grasp Firm hands and know fond care, Here tender arms lift straying feet Away from harm and snare. And the aged ones who come With steps grown weak by years, Find staffs in paths where pilgrims pass With smiles to banish tears. For in quiet ways that run 'Midst human hearts' great needs Is seen beside each footprint left Fair blossoming of deeds. Where the pilgrim's onward step, Their souls by faith made strong, And move to melodies that chant Their trusting hearts' true song. But the songs are low and hushed, God, only, hears their tone And listens to the steadfast strains. The singing of His own. A FLUTTER OF WINGS. ARBOR LODGE. The orchard is shining and glowing to-day With butterfly wings that are ceaseless at play. There's yellow above and there's yellow below And flitting about of a glimmer of snow ; Amidst the green tangle of tall heads of grass The radiant flashings of red gloamings pass. The boughs of the trees are low bending to hold The ripe harvest apples just turning to gold. And downward from branches the butterflies sweep, Like leaves of the autumn that fall to their sleep. 46 O hither and yon, as if blown by a sprite. The delicate wings rise and droop in their flight. Just poised for a moment their airy wave stops To linger and sway o'er the pink clover tops. A stray humming bird with a tiash passes by, The noisy black bee with its hu/.zing comes nigh ; Uplifted the wings that the fragile forms bear. Like Ijits of a rainbow they shine in the air. With darting and Hitting the (irchard is gay While sunbeams and butterflies silently play. THE SINGING RIVER. RIVER RAISIN^ MONROE, MICH. Sweet melodies are echoing Through mists of joy and tears. They come again, again repeat The songs that time endears. That sound through distant years. And ever with their voices dim One song rings o'er and o'er, The song the little river sang To homes beside its shore. In days that are no more. The winding. cur\-ing river's flow That came from out the west With roselit waves and golden tinge Of sunset on its breast. And sang in twilight's rest. It parted where an island stood With somber fringe of pine And toward the north and toward the south It sang at day's decline. With singing ran each line 49 To join in rippling near the wall Where stood the convent gray, And mingle with the quiet tones Of nuns who knelt to pray To God at close of day. Beside the Frenchtown ])attlcgrnund The sloping banks bent low And heard an echo from the past, A dirge for those who long ago Were slain in strife in old Monroe. Below the bridges in the town It softly murmured by And joined the mothers' evening song Of tender lullaby. While darker grew the sky. Beneath the stars reflected light Its voice grew bold at night. The fishermen sang o'er their nets And toiled in changeful light Where tianielit shores were bright. And with them sang the river low Abo\o its bed of stone. Then swept lietween the \ineyards darl With gentle, plaintive lone. And, shadowed, sang alone. Now evermore the river llows From westward to the sea. The rippling, singing river calls With sighing or with glee From out the vears to me. 50 THE LITTLE MAID ORDERS A SONG. "O write me a song." said a little maid; "O write me a song. I pray, To sing when under the elm tree's shade I swing on a summer day. And put in words That tell of birds, And speak of the hum of bees, And butterfly wings And flying things — • O do say much about these ! Of them all I'll sing In my elm tree swing." "And tell how tassels in corn husks grow, How I slide down the great hay mows ; How Rover runs when each night I go To watch while he brings the cows, And say 'tis plain The peacock's vain Of strutting to show its fan ; And say the sky Is blue and high — O, please write all that you can ! And the words I'll sing In my elm tree swing." "And then, you may tell of the roses sweet And lilies that grow up tall ; How little lambs in the pastures bleat And hens to their chickens call. Just write in rhyme Of summer time. And say that I love each day ; And pick out a tune To sing in June. A happy tune for my play. With the l)irds I'll sing In mv elm tree swing." t.-- 53 SORROW'S GIFT. There must I)e times when sorrow cometh to us. All else must wait while she her message hrings ; All hearts must bow through moments of her staying While o'er the sight her somber veil she flings. Bright joys depart beyond (jur clouded vision. Gleaming and fair they seem Init shadows dim. Sunlight is drear wdien sorrow cometh to us Bearing a cup embittered to the brim. Always alone we lake whate'er she bringeth. Anguish and pain that each alone must bear. Always alone each heart must enter darkness. Groping, ii shrinks from all that's hidden there. There must be times when sorrow cometh to us ! Broken antl crushed our spirits weary lie: Long will she dwell near pathways she has shadowed, Oft will return to breathe again a sigh. Yet. with her touch there falls a heavenly sweetness Filling the heart that once beside her lives; Sweetness that grows to love for all the stricken; Tenderness springs from out the woe she gives. "AFTERNOON LADIES.'" When toward the west the sun descends Till tinge of gold with shadow lilends. And calm are mellowed hours of day, In oriental colors gay The four-o'clocks are opened wide To give fresh bloom to eventide. In i)lain, old-fashioned yards they grow, And yet, in softened sunlight's glow, The mingled green of spreading leaves, With petaled red and yellow, weaves A web, fantastic with their bloom. Like fabrics from weird Indies' loom 54 Fnnn hedgclike rows their flowers gleam Till nightfall comes with shade and dream. Belated children of the day. Whose hirthplace is so far away, ^|)u l(ii)k like dames with sprightly air. Whose rohes a foreign tinting wear. Sweet ""ladies of the afternoon." Your huds. awakened, are the hoon That brings to closing day a grace. What mystic charm calls up each face To brightly snnlc while shadows creep T(.) veil the summer hours with sleep? THE GHOST D.\NCE. AKl'.OK l.ODdE. Between the dark, uneven lines Of trees in the low ravine The rising moon has sent its rays. Till now no longer intervene The veiling boughs : above, it shines .\nd greets the distant grove of pines. And here and far away the land. Awaiting the bright moon's quest, Rolls out its plains. The searching light Illumines scenes of strange unrest. The chill Novemlier wind makes moan. The vanished years sigh through its tone. For all sweet, faded summers gone Have left, in their dying, strains That o'er and o'er ring out to-night. Re-echoing in sad refrains. And fair Nebraska's prairies lie -A trysting place where spirits cry. Out yonder in the silvered field Where once, in the bygone days. With flash of tomahawks swung high. The red man sought in savage ways To celelirate a treaty signed. With war dance on the land resigned. 55 The noiseless shadows lurk below The trees, as their branches sway, Like lithe, dark forms of Otoe braves In groups of stealthy foes at bay. Just where the old field's margins creep To new-grown woodland's shading deep. And long white spaces, moonlit, lie. Like ghosts of the slain in strife. Wan heroes from the silent band That trod this prairie soil in life. Like cry and wail of savage love, The wind moans plaintively above. It sings, and sweeps in mournful dirge Through depths of the curved ravine. And calls from hilltops where the pines Approach the sky with somber green. Till echo answers echo heard Like some sad. mocking voice of bird. With (|uickened rustle come the leaves To rise wdien the wind ])ipes high. From roadside ways and gathered drifts Like specters through the air fhcy fly. Or ghostly steps their flitting trace. Eacli leaf is like a witliere for a frantic ride. Who start with a trend)le and cpiixer to go Away with the nui-^ic the singing winds blow. Away ! .Away I 'Till their mantles fly oiu. Their lluttering ermines all swing aliout. The childhood's bright fancies have lived through ll Still wonderful light in the jiojilar .apiiears. The flickering leaves ttirn their green and snow Till shadows and sunlight are woven below And still the wind. Through the whispering throng. Is calling me hack' with its bre.a'h of song. 58 THE WATCHMAN. Swing and chime ! Sleepy time ! Listen, little children dear ! Swing and chime ! Sleepy time ! See, the night is drawing near. Now, at closing of the day, Dreamland bells ring far away. No more frolic! No more play! Swing and chime ! Swing and chime ! Rings the Watchman looking down From his tower in Sleepy Town. Twinkling here, twinkling there. Stars are shining in the sky. Bright and round, bright and round. The moon is coming by and by. In the street the shadows fall, Mothers' voices gently call. Little birds in tree tops tall. Half asleep, faintly peep, While the Watchman's looking down From his tower in Sleepy Town. Swing and chime! Sleepy time! O, how soft the bells and low, Swing and chime ! Sleepy time I As to bed good children go. The sun is hiding in the west, Little ones must go to rest. In a white and downy nest. Swing and chime! Sleepy time! Rings the Watchman looking down From his tower in Sleepy Town. "All is well! All is well!" The Watchman's cry is clear and sweet. He leaves the far-off silent bell And smiling comes along the street. Now, in and out he softly treads And bends above the little beds With fairy dreams for pretty heads. "All is well! All is well!" Cries the Watchman coming down From his tower in Sleepy Town. Cn PLANT TREES. ARBOR LODGE. To one who thinks wlien lie phuils a tree To live and thrive in hrown earth's breast. Conie visions clear of the world's great space ^lade glad with shadowed nooks for rest. Where each green tree with its out-spread boughs Has refuge for the weary made. With sunlit gleams on its shining leaves Has l)enl to guard its cooling shade. To one who lists when he jilants a tree Come melodies so full, so sweet. As if the years from the future called. Though far away, their joys repeat: As if the birds from the trees to come. Beside each peaceful, sheltered nest. Sang out their glee from the morning time. Sang softly notes of evening rest. To one who thinks when he iilanls a tree A thousand joys spring into view. His act. unselfish, will others bless With gifts to make life glad anew. From out the rootlets that lie below A message to his heart will creep. "Some day this deed will a harvest yield When thou shalt with thy fathers sleep." AFTERNOON. The noon has passed: but earth is bright Willi tender touch of summer's light: And soft the air O'er mellowed scenes th;il trani|uil lie Stretched out beneath the azure sky. In beauty fair. f.2 The trembling dews of early day, That ghttered in each dawning ray, Will shine no more. The hours that morning's triumph led Have with their buoyant freshness fled, Their cheer is o'er. And yet the day is newly blest ; The happy sunlight falls with rest And gentler beams. And softer, sweeter are the clear Bird notes that greet the ear. Like songs in dreams. Earth's beauty and its calm repose Bring quiet thought that deeper grows. In calm review. We see the truth that hours have taught, The latest moments are each fraught With treasures new. Beyond the noon the day's far spent, A peaceful spirit of content Now broods o'er all. The ripened harvests round us lie; Ere long will glow the sunset sky And night will fall. But with the night comes restful sleep ; And soon, when twilight shadows creep, Will gleam and shine For us the guiding lights above. To show the Father's watchful love O'er dav's decline. JUST VANISHING. Ah! Where is summer? She was here Just now with shimmering crown ! Beyond the hilltop she is near ; Or in the corniields brown Where rustling plumes appear. This moment she was passing by, And glows of radiant haze And all the gayest tints that lie • O'er coming autumn's ways Shone out as she went by. Not far away the summer goes. Her voice with echoing calls Where'er the singing river flows, WHiere'er a flower falls. In each soft wind that blows. She loiters in the woodland's shade Where falling, fluttering leaves With scarlet fleck the peaceful glade. Or out 'niidst harvest sheaves The summer may Irive strayed. Just on beyond the summer goes. — And joy- of beauteous days That reached the heart o'er breath of rose Are vanishing in golden haze .\s smilinglv she goes. L.ofC. 66 »0V 29 I901 riOV 25 190t ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^M