P s 
 
 5-53^ 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Qm^W In — 
 
 Shelf .1V34 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
POEMS 
 
 OF THK 
 
 BT 
 
 GRANVILLE P, WILSON, 
 
 1879. 
 
 
 GORHAM, N. H. 
 MOUNTAINEER PRINT 
 
 1880. 
 
 'J^ 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the tear 
 
 1871, BY 
 
 GRANVILLE P. WILSON, 
 
 in the office of the librarian of congress, at 
 Washington. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The following are the poetical attempts of an indi- 
 vidual born and reared in an obscure hamlet on the 
 banks of the Magalloway, near tlie headwaters of the 
 Androscoggin and Connecticut rivers, where, within tlie 
 "forest primeval," among "the murmuring pines and 
 the hemlocks," without literary advantages and without 
 example in the annals of the locality, while a mere boy, 
 he vainly endeavored to give -utterance in verse to the 
 profound emotions with which the study of darling 
 nature, in the solitude of his romantic situation, had 
 inspired him. As a souvenir of past happy daj's, he 
 has here compiled a selection from his various scrib- 
 blings, and, however contemptible the result, to him his 
 efforts have been none the less enjoyable and spiritually 
 profitable. That the}' may prove equally so to others, 
 is the earnest hope and desire of 
 
 THE WEITER. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS, 
 
 Hage. 
 
 Introduction, - - - _ . - 3 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Retrospective, ------- 9 
 
 From Umbagog to Dixville, - - - - 12 
 
 The Unity of Humanity, ----- 17 
 
 Lines on the Sudden Cessation of Winter, - - 20 
 
 A Reminiscence of Childhood, - - - - 21 
 
 Columbia's Hundred Years, - - - - 24 
 
 Natural Theology, ------ 31 
 
 My Childhood's Home, - -^ - - - 32 
 
b TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Seclusion, 38 
 
 Lament for June, 40 
 
 By the Brookside, 41 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Humorous and Amorous Selections. 
 
 In the Woods, 43 
 
 Love, 44 
 
 Sanctus Katura, ------ 45 
 
 Song — Dearest, Breatlie a Prayer for Me, - - 46 
 
 The Flower of Columbia, 48 
 
 At the Cherry Tree, 49 
 
 Lines to an Old Acquaintance, - - - - 51 
 
 Lines to E , in Absence, . - . - 52 
 
 Puns, 53 
 
 Lines accompanying some Wild Flowers 
 
 presented to a Lady Friend, - - 53 
 
TABLE OP CONTENTS. 7 
 
 Lines written in the Office of a Hotel kept b^'^ 
 
 a gentlemen named Fitts, - - - 53 
 
 Lines written in March, 1863, during the 
 
 Great Rebellion, ----- 53 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Juvenile Poems. 
 
 Morning in Summer, ••---■■ - 55 
 
 Evening in Winter, ------ 56 
 
 A Better Land, 58 
 
 Sebastopol, - - - - -.. 58 
 
 Lament for Summer, ------ 61 
 
 
RETROSPECTIVE. 
 
 Where Magallo way's wild waters 
 
 Roll, on their romantic way 
 To New Hampshire's rugged border ; 
 
 To its forests, vast and gray. 
 Where Aziscoos in grandeur 
 
 Rears its brow, o'er hill and vale ; 
 Echoing the cascade's thunder. 
 
 And the stream's melodious wail : 
 To the scene of life's glad morning, 
 
 To its native rural bower, 
 Turns my soul, with ardent longing. 
 
 Oft by faithful memory's power. 
 Scene of innocence and pleasure. 
 
 Scene of 3'outh's auspicious dreams, 
 Where mj soul, from life and nature. 
 
 Drank, as from o'erflowing streams. 
 Joined with all that's purest, — dearest, 
 
 In my fondest heart enshrined. 
 Still remain thy hills and valleys. 
 
 Pictured by my doting mind ! 
 Linger yet, those blest emotions. 
 
 Kindled in my boyhood days ; 
 When in rapturous devotion 
 
 On thy varied charms I gazed. 
 Ah ! those blissful years of promise ! 
 
 When each tree,, and mossy stone, 
 2 
 
10 RETROSPECTIVE. 
 
 Mead and niountain, field and forest. 
 
 Spake of life, — of good to come ! 
 Ah ! the blest associations 
 
 Of each well remembered scene 
 Of my 3-outhful recreations ! 
 
 Pasture, woodland, vale or stream, 
 Where I sailed the tiny vessel, 
 
 With my Brother, now no more; 
 Or in manly shalloj^ Avrestled 
 
 With the river's foam and roar! 
 Where, a hiinter-bo}', I bounded 
 
 Free as wild-deer, o'er the green ; 
 And my favorite gun resounded 
 
 Oft the echoing hills betu^een. 
 Changes, — ah ! — what sad mutations, 
 
 As the fleeting years have flown, 
 Have spread mournful desolation 
 
 O'er my childhood's happy home ! 
 O'er those hills no more the siren 
 
 Golden bow of promise, gleams ; 
 As of yore, my soul inspiring 
 
 Oft to wild romantic dreams : 
 But the burden — ah ! — the burden 
 
 Of the past, the landscape bears ! 
 On each rock, and tree, engraven, 
 
 Now, I read the sad word — " where ? " 
 — Where my youthful hopes ? Ah ! whither 
 
 Have those glorious visions flown ? 
 Gone, are 3'e, — beloved, forever ? 
 
 Hark ! — the mocking echo, — gone ! 
 Where ni}' childhood's home, and heaven ? 
 
 Where the circle once did share 
 
retkospecti\t:. 11 
 
 Tliat best boon to mortals given ? 
 
 Sad, the blue hills answer, — where ? 
 Still the towering shade trees, planted 
 
 By m}^ brother's hand, and own. 
 Wave as wont, their faithful branches, 
 
 O'er our lone, deserted home. 
 Still the dear loved brook, careering 
 
 O'er my memory's hallowed ground, 
 Still the same sweet sunlight cheering 
 
 All the lovely landscape 'round, 
 Seem as back to life restoring, 
 
 Back to childhood's perfect day, 
 ^ly sad spirit, while deploring 
 
 Youth, and loved ones, passed away : 
 Still Aziscoos, in grandeur 
 
 Towering o'er the lonely vale, 
 Echoes back the cascade's thunder: 
 
 And the stream's i3erpetual wail, 
 From the eastern hills resounding, 
 
 Chants forever to mine ear 
 Heavenly music, now abounding 
 
 With mementoes, sad and drear. 
 Sweet, sweet memories of childhood ! 
 
 It were heaven indeed, no more 
 Than my joys amid the wildwood 
 
 In its glad hours, to restore. 
 Home of youth and manhood's dawning. 
 
 Cease not thine exquisite spell 
 For a wanderer, bemoaning 
 
 Joys departed, — fare thee well ! 
 
12 FROM UMBAGOG TO DIXYILLE. 
 
 FROM UMBAGOG TO DIXVILLE. 
 
 Ye who delight in the landscape, wherein God unveileth 
 his loveliness, 
 
 Clothing with beaut.y unspeakable mountain, and stream- 
 let, and woodland ; 
 
 Ye who find bliss in the shade, in the holy seclusion of 
 forests, 
 
 Ye who delight in the presence of God, more than man's, 
 and the handiwork; 
 
 Come! when the life-giving breezes of June and the 
 fragrance of flowerets 
 
 Gladden the soul, as wo wander at glorious morn, or at 
 eventide, 
 
 Come with me northward afar, 'mid the wilds, and the 
 hills of New England ! 
 
 To the land of the maple and pine ! and the fair lakes of 
 Maine and New Hampshire ! 
 
 Come where the dark Androscoggin, and peacefully 
 rolling Connecticut, 
 
 Bearing upon their broad bosoms the wealth and mate- 
 rial of cities. 
 
 Eastward and westward proclaim to the lovely White 
 Mountain dominion. 
 
 To the beauteous empire of granite, thus far shalt thou 
 go, and no farther ! 
 
 Green-margined, rock-hound Umbagog, no more thy 
 
 tumultuous echoes 
 Wake to the loon's reveille, — of the brant or the bittern 
 
 at day-dawn ; 
 No more thy glittering surface, unmarked b}^ the rude 
 
 keel of progress, 
 
FROM UMBAGOG TO DTXYILLE. 13 
 
 Yields to the wild fowl alone, to the storm, or the fisher- 
 man's shallop. 
 Louder than loon's piercing cry, or his death knell, the 
 
 gun of the huntsman 
 Peals o'er thy waters at morn now, the steamer's wild 
 
 shriek, and at niglitfall 
 Breaks on thy wonted repose, not the stealthy oar-dip of 
 
 the fowler, 
 But the wild rushing and roar of the might}^ and hot- 
 
 breatlied usurper. 
 Pleasant it is when the sunlight of morn gilds the 
 
 mountains surrounding, 
 Calmly and safel}'- to stand on the Pioneer's deck, and 
 
 careering 
 Swift o'er the picturesque lake, to contemplate the vast 
 
 panorama : 
 Hamlet and hill, field and flood, blending all in one 
 
 prospect of loveliness ! 
 Here unmolested of old dwelt the red man, and far 
 
 through the wilderness 
 Gleamed the bark roof through the day, and hy night 
 
 the red blaze of his wigwam; 
 Oft o'er the turbulent wave sped his fragile canoe, and 
 
 alternately 
 Borne on the fleet winds, his shout and the wail of the 
 
 captive resounded. 
 On — past the " lone Indian's Isle " — in his might, speeds 
 
 the man-made leviathan ; 
 Land of the pine tree, farewell ! — now he nears wild 
 
 Coos and Magallowa^^ ; 
 Leaps down the dismal " outlet," lone woods from far 
 
 distance re-echoing 
 
14 FROM UMBAGOG TO DIXYILLE. 
 
 Loudl}^ his hoarse ahirm note ; soon he g^iins his first 
 harbor, wliere tlmndering 
 
 Wildly the broad Androscoggin sweeps o'er the hillsides 
 of Err(»ll : 
 
 Tossing aloft its white waves and the venturous boats of 
 the rivermen : 
 
 Tiring the far mountain echoes, by night and by day, 
 with its roaring. 
 
 Decking its margin in beauty on either hand from the 
 dark wilderness, 
 
 Spread like a gorgeous mantle afar over mountain and 
 intervale, 
 
 Gleameth the snowy white birch, like creation of art, 
 and the poplar, 
 
 Earliest foliage of spring, and the last of the stormy 
 October. 
 
 'Gainst the dark greenwood, in lovely and picturesque 
 contrast, 
 
 Fanned by its boughs, when the glad winds of mid- 
 summer sigh through the tree tops, 
 
 Standeth the snowj^ Hotel, high and firm on the western 
 acclivity. 
 
 Built by the hands, and appointed the home of the toil- 
 wearied lumbermen. 
 
 Lovers of change and of pleasure, the gay and the health- 
 seeking tourist, 
 
 S^Dort on its green lawn, and breathing the life-giving 
 air of the woodland, 
 
 Or seeking, with ardor unbounded, the sw^eet-flavored 
 trout of the river. 
 
 Find here glad respite from labor, from care and the 
 tumult of cities. 
 
FROM UMBAGOG TO DIXVILLE. 15 
 
 Journeying onward, refreshed from repose at this wood- 
 land oasis, 
 
 Wild birds o'erhead cheer our circuitous way down the 
 riverside; 
 
 Leading, ere long, to the vale and the meadow lands 
 fertile and plentiful, 
 
 Washed hy Clear Stream, and the wayside hike in its 
 loveliness. 
 
 Broad like a prairie, and cheering as first we approach 
 from the wildwood. 
 
 Seems the fair landscape, bestudded with sumptuous 
 farm-house and factor^'-, 
 
 One longing, lingering look at the loved haunts of men, 
 and we enter 
 
 Once more the silence and shade of the quiet and tenant- 
 less wilderness. 
 
 Tenantless, — aye, — of the living ; but lo ! at our feet, 
 by the wa^^side. 
 
 Marked by memorial of sculpture not rough or inele- 
 gant, 
 
 Graves of some '-hamlet's rude forefathers," o'ergrown 
 with herbage, 
 
 Implore, as we pass them, the tribute of sighs and of 
 reverence. 
 
 Here, mourned by nature alone, her associates rest from 
 their labors. 
 
 Sung by the winged minstrels only, their requiem, or 
 by the rivulet 
 
 Leaping the neighboring hillside, which oft, when the 
 wind siglieth fitfullv, 
 
 Talks like majestic Pelion of old to the fair fields of 
 Thcssaly. 
 
16 FROM UMBAGOG TO DIXVILLE. 
 
 Barred seems the narrow way onward, b}'- high hills, and 
 
 rude, as we journey 
 Hence through the beautiful wood, to explore scenes 
 
 romantic and wonderful ; 
 Echoing loud from the trees, sounds the squirrels' gay 
 
 twitter, and carolling 
 Blitliely the musical birds, hail the glad coming day, 
 
 and the traveler. 
 Through the graj' mists of the morn, through the fogs 
 
 that envelop the woodland. 
 Towering aloft, like the turrets of castles renowned and 
 
 majestic. 
 Loom o'er the highway the crags of the wild pass of 
 
 Dixville, 
 Gate of Connecticut valley, — the marvelous northern 
 
 ThermopyliB. 
 Strong as the pass of Achaia, here too might a second 
 
 Leonidas, 
 Armed like the Grecian of old, in defence of his home, 
 
 and of liberty, 
 Stand like the column, defying the foes of the common- 
 wealth, 
 Countless and valiant as Sparta's, and hurl back a host 
 
 with a handful. 
 Crowning aloft the huge ramparts, like Ossa of old, upon 
 
 Pelion ; 
 Cliff upon cliff, gray and massive, with threatening 
 
 aspect and dismal, 
 Frown o'er our way, while majestic as Babylon's monu- 
 
 ument 
 O'er all the gigantic pinnacles, rear their heads vaunt- 
 
 ingly heavenward. 
 
THE UNITY OF HUMANITY. 17 
 
 Here the cool rill for tlie traveler thirsty and wayworn, 
 
 Sjjrings as it were from the rock, like the fountain in 
 Horeb for Israel : 
 
 Here, unrestrained, the luxurious air of the forest, 
 
 Cheers, like new wine, the faint tourist on his pilgrim- 
 age. 
 
 Here the wild streamlet, descending the hillside pre- 
 cipitous. 
 
 Chants its unceasing refrain, and the foaming and pic- 
 turesque cascade, 
 
 Thundering with.in the deep caiion, exclaims to the 
 wondering passenger : 
 
 Pause! — child of reason! behold here the work of 
 Omnipotence ! 
 
 THE UNITY OF HUMA]N"ITY. 
 
 Body and mind are of God, and equally share in his 
 essence : 
 
 Flesh and spirit are one, and of one, — the same — indi- 
 visible : 
 
 God the spirit and Word, was made flesh, and dwelt 
 here among us ; 
 
 Neither did put off the same, but shall come yet again 
 in like manner. 
 
 Matter and Earth are of God, and Nature his great rep- 
 resentative ; 
 
 For the invisible things of him are revealed by those 
 he created : 
 3 
 
18 THE UNITY OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Even the beauteous person, the hmdscape, the seas, and 
 
 the firmament, 
 And that which of him ma}^ be known, is manifest, e'en 
 
 to the senses : 
 Wherefore as God hath ordained that the senses should 
 
 teach us to love him, 
 Even so hath he ordained that they teach us to love one 
 
 another. 
 Hath not the scripture declared him a liar wlio loves not 
 
 his brother 
 Whom he hath seen, and yet claimeth to love the unseen 
 
 Creator ? 
 Love proceedeth from sense, and with faith leadeth on- 
 ward to holiness : 
 Whatsoever is, by nature, the Lord requireth with 
 
 usury : 
 Nature provideth materials, ample and meet, for the 
 
 building : 
 But grace, alone, arrangeth and reareth the same unto 
 
 Heaven. 
 Love, which Jehovah accepted, hath root in the flesh, 
 
 and the vitals : 
 " Love thou the Lord thy maker with all thy power of 
 
 loving," 
 This is the first great command, and the second is like 
 
 unto it, 
 "Love as thine own self thy neighbor," and self-love 
 
 neglects not the physical. 
 Love which maketh of twain one soul, one flesh and one 
 
 spirit, 
 Love which annulleth distinctions of form and individ- 
 ual] tj^, 
 
THE UNITY OF HUMANITY. 19 
 
 Love which longetli to merge its being in tliat of 
 another, 
 
 Such is the manner of love the Father bestowed and 
 require th. 
 
 Since in the body alone is the work of probation accom- 
 plished, 
 
 Since there is no salvation the mind can arrive unto 
 separately, 
 
 Since in connection with matter alone is heaven attainable, 
 
 How deem many the flesh not essential to life, and to 
 happiness ? 
 
 Is the flesh not of the man ? — ask the weary and fam- 
 ishing traveler. 
 
 Sent unrefreshed from the dwelling of one claiming 
 christian fraternity, 
 
 Unto whom speaketh the Lord, " Inasmuch as ye did 
 not this kindness 
 
 Unto the least of my brethren, did ye it not unto me." 
 
 ''No meat je gave when I hungered, or drink when I 
 thirsted, 
 
 Clothing when naked, or comfort when sick and in 
 prison ; 
 
 Therefore depart far from me, ye cursed, into fire ever- 
 lasting, 
 
 Prepared for the Devil, his angels, and whoso worketh 
 iniquity ! " 
 
 Love which is not for the body, is not that of God for 
 His creatures : 
 
 Neither of Christ the Savior, for fallen and mortal 
 humanity : 
 
 Think'st thou the Son of God died, to redeem that which 
 is not corruptible ? 
 
20 LINES ON" SUDDE.V CESSATION OF WINTER. 
 
 Could flesh and blood make atonement for spirits, which 
 
 have none of either ? 
 Wherefore his incarnation, to ransom a soul immaterial ? 
 Why went his soul to the grave, but to give souls therein 
 
 immortality ? 
 
 LINES 
 
 On the sudden cessation of Winter, Jan'y, 1874. 
 
 Lo ! what a change ! — how marvelous the scene ! 
 At height of Winter's desolating reign, 
 The Earth, which late in snowj'- shroud liatli lain, 
 Bursts from its folds, like vision of a dream. 
 
 See ! where the frowning, frostj'' mound liath been, 
 Nature's dear, stricken, sallow face appear ! 
 Smiling, anon, through desolation drear, 
 In piteous gleams of late lamented green ! 
 
 How sweet once more the babbling streamlet's sound, 
 Tiie south wind's sigh, where fir-tree branches wave ! 
 The withered leaflet, from its wintry grave. 
 Skips to glad music o'er the faded ground ! 
 
 The duteous maple of the grove, e'en now, 
 At our command, its peerless nectar yields : 
 While over mountain and unguarded fields, 
 The joj'ous flocks in quest of pasture go. 
 
 ! blest reprieve from winter's iron reign ! 
 The gloomy fate, inevitable deemed ! 
 Ere yet from nature's bounteous bosom weaned, 
 How welcome her life-giving sweets again ! 
 
A REMINISCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. 21 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Long years have since passed, yet clearly I remember, 
 
 As it had only been a twelvemonth interval 
 
 Since that sad afternoon, within the period 
 
 That tried men's souls, — the time when men's hearts 
 
 failed them. 
 For fear of things soon coming on the Earth : 
 It was a gloomy hour : — thick, murky clouds 
 Veiled the fair Autumn sk}^, and o'er the hills, 
 O'er nature vast, a solemn silence reigned ; 
 Profoundest silence, that the while seemed burdened, 
 Fraught with impending ill, as the dread calm 
 Preceding in afar off climes the earthquake, 
 Or devastating whirlwind. Silently 
 About the household toiled my loving mother, 
 \\ ith sadly serious brow; my elder brothers 
 Talked with low voice, and hinted covertly, 
 Within my infant hearing; which, tho' guileless 
 And unsuspicious as the dove, I marked 
 And questioned them concerning, but received 
 Evasive answer: then with eagerness 
 And wakened curiosity I asked, 
 " Mother ! what is it of which brother speaks ? " 
 "The end of time," she answered pityingly: 
 " The end of time ! — when ? " — " why, this afternoon ! " 
 And with still sadder look and kinder accents, 
 "This is the day," she said, "foretold by Miller, 
 When Earth, and all therein, must be destroyed." 
 love ! — that mother's changeless love ! which fain 
 Would then with her frail form have barred the tide 
 
22 A REMINISCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Of God's fierce wrath, aimed at lier darling son, and 
 
 quenched the flame 
 That preyed upon his flesh with her heart's blood, and 
 
 grieved to know 
 Her generous passion vain. And gladly I 
 In that ne'er failing love would still have found 
 The panacea for my bosom's anguish, 
 Which hitherto had every pang allaj^ed, 
 And proved a remedy for all the ills 
 I suffered ; but alas ! for me, — a child, 
 I ne'ertheless too fully understood 
 The insufficiency of human aid in this 
 (As then supposed) Earth's last extremity. 
 Thus suddenly cut off from all resource 
 Of safety or of hope, to me conceivable, 
 AVhose tender thoughts ne'er soared above the sphere 
 Of home, and things terrestrial, I awaited. 
 Like ship in far off seas, without a chart, 
 The storm so soon expected, passively : 
 I had not thought, or known, till then, the meaning 
 Of that the world discoursed of, all, and pondered, 
 And ofttimes scoffed, as 'neath the grave attention 
 Of candid men, and when I comprehended. 
 With terror-quickened brain, the dire significance, 
 The fearful import of those credulous words. 
 From an authority I never questioned, 
 My 3^oung heart sank within me : — dumb with dread, 
 And awfuUest suspense, I marked the moments, 
 Essaying not a word, till I might hear 
 The mighty trumpet's dead-awakening voice 
 And the appalling Avords — " Depart 3'^e cursed !" 
 But minutes passed ; and hours ; yet unshaken 
 The everlasting mountains reared their heads 
 
A REMINISCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. 23 
 
 In quiet grandeur, wliile afar beiieath 
 
 The foaming river ran, and through tlie wilderness, 
 
 And past our dwelling, sighed melodiously, — the tuneful 
 
 birds 
 Hailed with ecstatic song the parting gleam 
 Of sunlight, which on hill-tops lingered long ; 
 As loth to leave the trembling world in fear. 
 Thus calm and undisturbedl}^, went down 
 The sun of that sad, memorable day. 
 And to me useful, though I was a child 
 In courage, as in j^ears, but who has not, 
 Youthful or old, had like exf)erience ; 
 Or will not have, in near anticipation 
 Of an approaching righteous God, to judge 
 A world of guilty sinners ? How shall we 
 Who shared that solemn warning face again 
 The awful prospect ?— in dismay as then ? 
 Or with composure as becomes the prudent. 
 Who evermore the evil day foresee, 
 And hide themselves in the Almighty's name. 
 In that strong tower into which the righteous 
 Run and are safe ? If thou art faltering, 
 If there is aught in life or death tho:i fearest, 
 Thou art not then complete, as man or christian : 
 For he's a bondman who fears aught below : 
 But love, made perfect, casteth out all fear. 
 Let, then, the Psalmist's confidence be ours. 
 That we may in that last great day exclaim — 
 " Tlie god of Jacob is our strength and refuge, 
 A very present help in time of trouble : 
 Therefore we will not fear, tho' Earth be moved 
 And all the hills be cast into the sea." 
 
24 Columbia's hundred years. 
 
 COLUMBIA'S HUNDRED YEARS. 
 
 (Read at MAGALLO^vAY Settlkment, July 4th, 1876.) 
 
 Hail, realm of freedom ! — hail ! — ye woodland bowers 
 
 Awake the praises of her natal hour! 
 
 Sound — sound ye billows ! on your race amain, 
 
 The morning note of liberty again ! 
 
 Ye pines, that from Aziscoos on high 
 
 Saw the grim tyrant of oppression die, 
 
 Ye towering elms, your hoary frontlets rear, 
 
 Wake the proud epic of her hundred years ! 
 
 Thunder the echo ! — wave, ye fir trees, wave ! 
 
 Chant their grand requiem o'er our heroes' graves. 
 
 Rustle ye leaflets ! all ye breezes, sigh ! 
 
 Murmur the anthem, where our patriots lie. 
 
 Sing o'er the tomb of one who saw its birth, 
 
 Thy glorious deeds, noblest realm of Earth. 
 
 AVarblo ye winds, — ye bowing forests roar! 
 
 Sound the loud choras to Britannia's shore : 
 
 " Humanity all equal and all free," 
 
 A mighty nation born to liberty! 
 
 From vast Atlantic to Pacific's flood, 
 
 Behold the purchase of our Fathers' blood ! 
 
 Eastward or westward, hath Columbia found 
 
 No barrier, save eternal nature's bound ; 
 
 No foe her proudly grand career to stay, 
 
 No peer or rival of her majesty. 
 
 Behold ! against the valiant of the Earth, 
 The rustic handful conquering go forth! 
 
Columbia's hundred years. 25 
 
 See the young Hercules, in cradle lie, 
 And bid oppression's coiling serpent die I 
 Its life, its wealth, its sacred honor, placed 
 On freedom's altar, see the new born West 
 Defy the mightiest of the powers that be, 
 And lead its Spartan band to victory ! 
 Mark the triumphant, the august arra}^, 
 Tlie sage Lycurgi of the latter day. 
 Incorporating in a nation's code 
 The laws of nature, and of nature's God ! 
 Fearless, undaunted, unperplexed, they stand 
 Beset by foes, by ills, on every hand. 
 Earth's wisest ones, — the new Hellenic seven. 
 And rear the tower whose top aspires to Heaven, 
 Far o'er the. earth, like wind-engendered flame. 
 Extends the prestige of Columbia's name! 
 North, South and East disgorge their poor oppressed, 
 By countless thousands, to the sheltering West. 
 Peasant and Prince, — humble and proud of birth, 
 Claim equal title to her fostering earth. 
 Exiled and friendless hosts, the great and small, 
 Seek here the world, 'twas made alike for all. 
 The Gallic chieftain, o'er Atlantic's wave, 
 Takes of her sacred soil to make his grave. 
 The captive conqueror yearns with piteous sighs, 
 To see her glor3^ and in exile dies. 
 At home, her foes, with readiness suppressed, 
 Abroad, her wrongs are speedily redressed. 
 Behold, on ocean and her inland seas. 
 Her sailor " meets the foe, and they are his ! " 
 Like Jericho, when Israel's trump was blown, 
 Falls the proud Briton at oSTew Orlean's town ! 
 4 
 
26 Columbia's hundred years. 
 
 Peace spreads once more her healing wings abroad; 
 
 The red-man's hatchet slumbers 'neath the sod, 
 
 In blest security from harm or fear, 
 
 The emigrant his humble cabin rears, 
 
 The mighty prairie yields its bounteous grain, 
 
 And all is prosperous, all is glad again. 
 
 Ah ! earthly peace ! — how mutable, how frail ! 
 Ah ! fleeting fortunes of this'earthlj^ vale ! 
 Alas ! the State in grandeur thus begun. 
 For dearest life must sacrifice her sons. 
 As Godlike Junius, for the good of Rome, 
 Spared not its children, but destroyed his own. 
 Lo ! despotism, with defiant stride, 
 Mocketh Columbia's democratic pride ! 
 Lo ! negro slavery, with insatiate aim, 
 Usurpeth freedom's hallowed domain ! 
 See the vile serpent, o'er the good and great. 
 Vomit his slime, and swallow Church and State ! 
 See the dread monster, with envenomed thrust. 
 Strike, as to lay Columbia in the dust : 
 While christian powers wink only at the deed. 
 Or bid the vile, infernal brute God-sjjeed.! 
 
 From wide Potomac to Missouri's flood, 
 
 Ascends the cry of unavenged blood. 
 
 East, West, and North, throughout Columbia's bounds. 
 
 The mournful summons to her aid resounds. 
 
 Far off Nevada hears the dread alarm; 
 
 Through California peals the cry, — to arms ! 
 
 Quickly responsive, green Vermont replies, 
 
 Up ! sons of Allen ! — or your freedom dies ! 
 
Columbia's hundred years. 27 
 
 New Hampshire's mountains catch the dire refrain, 
 
 With m3'riad voices ring the wilds of Maine, 
 
 Along Umbagog's peace-devoted shore 
 
 Sounds the shrill pibroch of impending war, 
 
 And there are last, who first in glor\''s field 
 
 Rear the starred banner, but are last to yield. 
 
 See ! from remotest hamlets of the north, 
 
 The stalwart yeomen for the right go forth ! 
 
 Aroostook and Penobscot's hardy sons 
 
 La}^ down the axe, and seize the deadlj'' gun. 
 
 From Rangeley's flood, from Parmachene's wave, 
 
 Speed the loved youth, the gallant and the brave. 
 
 See ! from his home on 'Galloway's green side. 
 
 The only son, the brother true and tried, 
 
 Ere the first blast of war hath ceased to sound, 
 
 Among his country's foremost champions found. 
 
 Alas I poor hamlet, unbefriended, lone. 
 
 Shorn of its strength, the few she calls her own, 
 
 Struggling amid her penury to give, 
 
 That country, friends and libertj- may live. 
 
 Where now her heroes of the swamp and chase, 
 
 The young and strong, rejoicing in the race ? 
 
 Gone ! — in their glory — from their native shore : 
 
 The place that knew shall know them hence no more. 
 
 Her bliss, her joy, the new-elected bride 
 
 Sees rudely torn in anguish from her side : 
 
 The aged widow, doubl}^ now bereft. 
 
 Hath none of all her manly loved ones left : 
 
 Sadly the father leaves his tender care, 
 
 His country's lot and miserv to share : 
 
 Forsaking home, and all his bliss below, 
 
 For danger, hardship, wretchedness and woe. 
 
28 Columbia's hundred years. 
 
 Ah ! bow the mother's anxious heart doth bleed, 
 Who liears her little one's for "Papa" plead, 
 Sees for their absent sire her darlings mourn. 
 And cannot promise he will e'er return ! 
 
 See thirst for glory and the love of gain. 
 Crowding Columbia's ranks in "Union's" name ! 
 See all, forgetting in their country's need. 
 Disunion's root — tlie war's infernal seed, — 
 Hiding, for Union's sake, the nation's sin : 
 Protecting, shielding the accursed thing ! 
 
 Guarding the demon whence her woes have sprung. 
 Nursing the serpent wbich her breast hath stung, 
 Columbia meeteth now, in deadly shock. 
 Her treacherous offspring, but prevaileth not. 
 Woe — woe — Columbia I — land of heroes, weep ! 
 The cry of bondmen who your fields have reaped, 
 The priceless souls ye hold as nothing worth. 
 Has moved on high, the Lord of Sabaoth ! 
 Relentless now leaps from its rusted sheath. 
 The sword of justice for the work of death ; 
 Throughout the land, what wailings yet unknown, 
 What myriad mothers weep their eldest born ! 
 The pompous statesman, who, with servile tongue, 
 Maintained the bondman's grievous curse no wrong. 
 The cunning scribe, with sycophantic pen. 
 Pleading for traffic in the souls of men : 
 The priest blasphemer, who, for sordid gain. 
 Sanctioned all sin, in the Redeemer's name ; 
 All — all confounded, — low from out the ground 
 Their piteous moaning and complaints resound ! 
 
Columbia's hundred years. 29 
 
 Thus saitli the Lord, " Refrain thy voice from woe, 
 
 Loose ye the bondmen, — let my people go ! 
 
 So shall th3^ faith, thy work rewarded be, 
 
 Thy land restored safe from the enemy : 
 
 Your hosts the fight of freedom cannot win 
 
 While ye at all partake of slavery's sin ! 
 
 Up ! — cleanse the land ! — your tribes before me bring. 
 
 Put from among 3'ou the accursed thing ! " 
 
 ISTow echoing loudly o'er the startled ea,rth, 
 The new decree of liberty goes forth: 
 Hark ! — o'er the tumult, — o'er the blood}^ ground, 
 The mighty trump of jubilee resounds ! 
 See the Pathfinder, as in Gospel days. 
 Showing before victorious freedom's way ! 
 See, in his glory, God-like Lincoln stand, 
 Proclaiming liberty ! throughout the land ! 
 
 Now, as of old, renowned Ulysses rears 
 The fallen standard of his late compeers, 
 Seeks out the stronghold of the exulting foe, — 
 Smites to the heart, and lays red treason low. 
 
 Hushed is the storm ! — from off the nation rolls 
 The cloud of battle, like retreating scroll ; 
 On joyous hosts, from blood and chains released, 
 Breaks forth the sun of liberty and peace : 
 See God-like mercy to the vanquished horde 
 Crowning the triumphs of the deadly sword ! 
 See great Columbia's humane control 
 Extended northward to the Arctic pole ! 
 O'er towering mountains hear her chariots rage ! 
 On all earth's waters see her flag displayed ! 
 
30 Columbia's hundred years. 
 
 O'er every stream her swan-like vessels skim, 
 
 In every port her forts of iron swim ! 
 
 Upward her sons, on wings as eagles rise, 
 
 And soar triumphant to afar off skies ; 
 
 While underneath the world-compassing sea. 
 
 She sends the lightnings, saying " Here are we ! " 
 
 Tremendous commonwealth ! — increasing still, 
 Thy world-allotted period fulfilled, 
 Finds in thy healthful and unfading bloom 
 No sign or symptom of foreboded doom ! 
 Thy root still tender, and thy branches green. 
 The glorious pledges of thy youth redeemed, 
 An age's tempests thou hast well withstood, 
 And, like the eagle's, is thy youth renewed ! 
 Thou who a century since, to toil and bleed, 
 Went'st weeping forth, with freedom's precious seed, 
 Now to th}^ birth-place dost return again. 
 Bringing with joy thy sheaves of heavenly grain ! 
 Sound ! — pipe of mirth I and thou historic bell. 
 Which rang of old ojjpression's funeral knell ! 
 Thunder, loud organs ! and ye cannons boom 
 Freedom's glad pean, and dark slavery's doom ! 
 Swear like your sires, ye hosts to freedom born, 
 Eternal hatred to oppression's forms ! 
 Bid from your coasts the monster hydra flee. 
 And priceless freedom reign from sea to sea ! 
 
NATURAL THEOLOGY. - 31 
 
 NATUEAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 Is there a God ? what say the verdant vales ? 
 
 And hills resplendent in the sunset glow ? 
 The sighing forest and the cascade's wail ? 
 
 The crystal streams that onward mnrmuring flow, — 
 All things of beauty in the Earth below ? 
 
 The pensive morn, — the clear, effulgent noon, 
 Summer's gay verdure, — winter's spotless snow, 
 
 Childhood's fair brow, and youth's angelic bloom ? 
 joy exquisite ! delightful boon ! 
 
 Hath man no ears to hear, no eyes to see, 
 Within the world of nature's charms alone, 
 
 Tile trutli, — the presence of divinity ? 
 And shall these perish ? — beauty cease to be ? 
 
 When in its earthly forms it charms no more, 
 Or shall a power survive humanity. 
 
 And all Earth's pristine loveliness restore ? 
 E,eign o'er the land, and, as in days of yore, 
 
 Bliss universal and delight abound ? 
 No tempter lure to evil as before, 
 
 No serpent's form pollute the hallowed ground. 
 Where shall no rude or ravenous beast be found. 
 
 But where the ransomed, the redeemed, shall throng. 
 While Zion's jasper walls aloud resound 
 
 Praise to the Lamb, — triumphant Moses' song ! 
 
 Divinity dwells not in Heaven alone ! 
 
 The beautiful on Earth thy soul admires, 
 
32 MY childhood's HOMh:. 
 
 Which moves tlxy spirit to sublimest tone, 
 And kindles nature's purest, holiest fires, 
 Quenching for a_y;e all grovelling desires. 
 
 This is divinity ! — 'tis God below ! 
 
 The charm of Earth no creature can withstand. 
 
 The remnant of perfection, even now. 
 
 Which sprang of old from the Creator's hand. 
 And yet again shall reign at his supreme command. 
 
 -— ^-^^^as^t^— 
 
 MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 
 
 happy hours ! days of bliss untold ! 
 
 trebly blest, my guileless early years ! 
 When first life's scene before my gaze unrolled, 
 
 And Earth, — sad Earth, an Eden did appear ! 
 
 When free from toil, from care, and anxious fear, 
 My eager spirit hailed, with rapturous joy. 
 
 Each new-found phase of life that did appear. 
 The scenes unclouded, destined to emploj'- 
 The hours, — the blissful years, I lived a musing boy 
 
 precious memories of departed time ! 
 
 My world, my bliss, my type of heavenly joy ! 
 Wherein alone I yet may hope to find 
 
 Such happiness and peace without alloy ! 
 
 Treasures that time nor tempest can destroy, 
 
MY childhood's HOME. 33 
 
 Ye are my heritage, and ye alone, 
 
 Of all my youthful spirit did enjoy ! 
 Of all ambition hoped to call its own, 
 When jT^outh should be no more, and I to manhood grown I 
 
 My childhood's home : — how dear the hallowed theme ! 
 
 How sweet the vision to my memory's eye ! 
 The lowly cottage, and surrounding green, 
 
 The might}'- river, with its plaintive sigh ! 
 
 The hill-side pasture, where the flocks did lie, 
 Or graze in quiet all the summer day ! 
 
 The waving field, that looked against the sky ! 
 The dark blue mountains, o'er the woods away. 
 Where gleamed the full moon's first, — the sun's expiring 
 ray! 
 
 The frowning ledges, on the neighboring hill. 
 
 Which oft we children climbed in venturous play, 
 
 The pine-log landing, and the dear old mill. 
 Where Father toiled for manj^ a livelong dny I 
 The dim blue forest, stretching miles away, 
 
 Whither in grief we saw his footsteps tend, 
 Time after time, to trace tlie routes which laj^ 
 
 Between us and our far Canadian friends. 
 
 Or seek the woodland's wealth from trackless end to end I 
 
 The cottage window, where a child I stood, 
 On winter evenings, at grandmother's knee, 
 
 And watched the moonbeams gleaming o'er the wood, 
 And snow-fields shining like a crystal sea ; 
 Ordieard, meanwhile, the thrilling history 
 
 Of woes encountered at the Nation's birth, 
 
34 MY childhood's HOMK. 
 
 * 
 
 Ere priceless freedom, in its infancy, 
 Found place among the mightiest of Earth, 
 And peace and blessing brought to many an humble 
 heartli. 
 
 The antique kitchen, where a Sunday morn, 
 
 Each with a copy of the Sacred Word, 
 Cloth-covered, but with pages marked and worn, 
 
 Our read}?" minds with pious truth were stored ; 
 
 Or where, assembled at the festive board. 
 When the brick arch her weekly cheer did yield, 
 
 No sphere of wide creation could afford 
 A happier scene than that was there revealed, 
 Or that with mightier claim to gratitude appealed. 
 
 How prone the fancies of life's later years 
 
 To take to them the likeness, and retrace 
 The images of scenes that did appear 
 
 When Earth was new and fair in every phase ! 
 
 How oft I pause on life's unsparing race. 
 And turn my heart from solitude and woe. 
 
 To feast on memories of the dear old place. 
 And loved and loving ones, who long ago 
 Gave home a spell — a charm — it ne'er again will know ! 
 
 There Mary and Silvanus, playmates, long 
 
 Directed my unwary steps and mind ; 
 The sister, jo3'ous as the birds of song. 
 
 The brother, thoughtful, studious and kind. 
 
 ! where in Earth's dark valley shall I find 
 Another like that loved companion gone ! 
 
 Child, teacher, man, evangelist, combined, 
 
MY CHILDHOOD S HOME. 3o 
 
 A valiant soldier of the Holy One, 
 
 He waits in dust the call of God's anointed Son. 
 
 Dear brother John ! — (in dreams I see him 3^et)j 
 
 Model of manliness in boyhood's 3'ears ! 
 How long ere those who witnessed will forget 
 
 The lustre of his short but sage career ! 
 
 Or virtues that his bein"; did endear 
 To young and old, where'er he chanced to stray ! 
 
 He was the field's delight, — the fireside's cheer, 
 The household's counsellor from day to day. 
 Till, to return no more, he passed from home away. 
 
 E'en now, sad fancy sees poor mother weep 
 As she was wont, at mention of his name. 
 
 For whom she long, unwearied watch did keep, 
 To greet the wanderer, who never came : 
 Thrice disaj^pointed and bereaved, the same ; 
 
 Thrice mourning those on endless journe}" gone. 
 Like one not to be comforted again, 
 
 She sorrowed for her first and noblest born ; 
 
 And grieved to see return the beauteous light of morn. 
 
 There's more of glory in affection's tear ! 
 
 There's more of triumph in one weeping hour ! 
 There's more of this existence I hold dear 
 
 In sorrowing love, than in a monarch's power! 
 
 Scenes that in moral grandeur highest tower. 
 Are those wherein all heart-corroding woes 
 
 Are swept away by grief's impetuous shower, 
 Leaving the spirit in serene repose, 
 Which Earth can never give, nor base ambition knows. 
 
36 MY childhood's home. 
 
 I've oft enough in such experience shared, 
 
 To learn this useful lesson once for all : 
 That all the worth of earthly things, compared 
 
 With that of hearts, is infinitely small ! 
 
 And he, who at ambition's loudest call, 
 Would sacrifice one grain of heavenly love. 
 
 Deserves not epitaph, or stone, or pall, 
 Remembrance of his fellow men to prove. 
 Or pardon from below, or Him who reigns above. 
 
 The fellowship of childhood's home and youth's 
 
 Is purer — dearer — tlian in after \'ears ; 
 More artless love, sincerity and truth 
 
 In that beloved communion then appear, 
 
 And on the Earth a sanctuary rear, 
 Where God dwells most of all the shrines below. 
 
 Which sordid interest, or worldly fear, 
 Nor base estrangement of the heart doth know. 
 And lives, like mingling streams, in one sweet channel 
 flow. 
 
 That fellowship, so unlike aught I've seen, 
 
 The while a stranger on the Earth I've roamed, 
 Seems now a glimpse — a foretaste — to have been* 
 
 Of sweet communion in a heavenly home; 
 
 Where, re-united at Jehovah's throne. 
 With one accord, as oft in early days. 
 
 We'll sing " Thus far the Lord hath led me on," 
 While angels join in never-ending lays 
 To swell salvation's song, the ceaseless psalm of praise. 
 
 Three brothers, — partners of ni}^ infant years. 
 Purest and noblest of the sons of men. 
 
iViY childhood's home. 37 
 
 In different lands, — in graves afar and near, 
 Lie scattered, mouldering to the dust again. 
 My mother (ever blessed name, ! when 
 
 Shall Heaven above that mother's loss restore ?) 
 Apart from these, in narrow house hath lain 
 
 For years, where fair Connecticut doth pour 
 
 Its peaceful billows past jSTew Hampshire's rugged shore. 
 
 My sire (dear, honored sage), he lingers yet : 
 
 Gray monument of hardship and of care. 
 Endured for those too read\^ to forget 
 
 The good he suffered long with them to share. 
 
 How doth the dear abode his impress wear ! 
 His memory haunt the long-deserted shore ! 
 
 Portion and parcel of the landscape there. 
 He seems, still lingering where in ^^ears before 
 He triumphed, wept and toiled, but now doth toil no more. 
 
 The bridge, the weir, and mills which bore his name, 
 
 Have long since vanished from the rocky shore; 
 The dear old cot alone remains the same, 
 
 And " Edward's tree," as in the days of yore. 
 
 Could I but meet in that dear home once more. 
 With father, brothers, sisters, who remain, 
 
 And live one day its hallowed memories o'er, 
 Be for one hour a gladsome boy again, 
 Heaven were not then afaT, or life's dark maze in vain ! 
 
38 SECLUSION. 
 
 SECLUSION. 
 
 Where the wild-wood waves, 
 
 And the foaming torrent, flashing 
 
 'Mid its moss}^ caves, 
 
 In perpetual wrath is dashing : 
 
 Where the solid ground, 
 
 Day and niglit, with ceaseless quaking, 
 Trembles far around, 
 
 While the loftj^ woods are shaking : 
 
 Where forever pour 
 
 Wild Magalloway's rude billows. 
 Whose unceasing roar 
 
 Wakes the slumberer on his pillow: 
 
 Let my footsteps roam, 
 
 Oft, when Spring hath ope'd the fountains ! 
 And in rills hath flown 
 
 All the hoar frost of the mountains ! 
 
 When the Earth released, 
 
 Springs from Winter's icy thraldom. 
 And all nature breathes 
 
 The pure atmosphere of freedom! 
 
 When the wild bird throng, 
 
 Giving voice to gladdened nature, 
 
 With unrivalled song 
 
 Chants the praise of the Creator ! 
 
SECLUSION. 39 
 
 Wliere tlie fragrant breeze, 
 
 Tlie life-giving breath of forests, 
 Stirs the awakened trees. 
 
 And the wiklerness rejoiceth : 
 
 Leave me long, to pore 
 
 On the matchless theme of wonder, 
 Written on the shore ! 
 
 Spoken in the torrent's tluinder ! 
 
 In my glad retreat, 
 
 From the sordid world's confusion, 
 There mv heart shall beat 
 
 Calmly, in its sweet seclusion! 
 
 While the April sun, 
 
 Like forgiving smile of heaven, 
 All the forest crowns 
 
 With the glowing tints of Eden. 
 
 Sweet the lonely hour ! 
 
 Sweet the torrent's dash and thunder, 
 And the billows' roar ! 
 
 Though it rend the Earth asunder ! 
 
 Where no sound of sin, 
 
 Vileness, tyranny, or foll^'. 
 Mocks the peace within, 
 
 And the presence of the holy I 
 
 Earthl)' guile hath reared 
 
 Here no monument or token : 
 God alone is here ! 
 
 Here his voice alone hath spoken ! 
 
40 LAMENT FOR JUNE. 
 
 LAMENT FOR JUNE. 
 
 Queen of all nature's vernal bloom ! 
 
 Thou fairest of the beauteous 3'ear ! 
 I sorrow for thy loss, sweet June ! 
 
 And mourn thy parting hour so near! 
 
 Remnant of perfect Eden's day ! 
 
 Thou balm for life's enshrouding gloom, 
 Fain would I bid thee ever stay! 
 
 Alas ! that we must part so soon ! 
 
 The waving grass, the rustling grove, 
 All nature's lovelier charms combined, 
 
 And joys vouchsafed of heaven above, 
 
 To cheer the world, sweet month, are thine ! 
 
 tell me not midsummei:'s bloom 
 And autumn skies are passing fair ! 
 
 Thy crowning joy, time ! is June ! 
 And nothing with her can compare ! 
 
 Type of the beauteous world to come ! 
 
 Thou foretaste of eternal spring! 
 Though all Earth's tuneful choirs were dumb, 
 
 Thy praise, sweet June, I still would sing ! 
 
 If happiness, that heavenl}^ boon. 
 Poor erring mortals e'er may share, 
 
 'Tis in thy leafy hours, June ! 
 
 When Earth, its loveliest aspect wears ! 
 
BY THE BROOKSIDE. 41 
 
 O season, sacred still, to song ! 
 
 To bliss, to joy ! — delightful June ! 
 How fain would I thy lease prolong ! 
 
 Alas I that we must part so soon I 
 
 BY THE BROOKSIDE. 
 
 By the sweet woodland stream. 
 
 Alone, as through the leafy shade I wander, 
 'Neath the o'erhanging green, 
 
 Long while, the pure, enrapturing scene I ponder. 
 
 The valley deep and broad, 
 
 Where quiet reigns, and peace, from morn to even ; 
 Surely the house of God 
 
 Is the wide forest, and the gate of heaven ! 
 
 Wild fern and foliage fair, 
 
 Grace the rude margin of the rippling waters ; 
 In vesture rich and rare, 
 
 Smile, near and far, the brawling brooklet's borders. 
 
 Against the eastern sky. 
 
 Gigantic birches loom like ancient columns; 
 And maples, towering high. 
 
 Whereon the tempests of an age have fallen. 
 
 Through the august array, 
 
 Through the proud forest, gleams the sun of morning 
 Green leaf, and moistening spray. 
 
 Glow in its radiance, all the vale adorning. 
 6 
 
42 BY THE BROOKSIDE. 
 
 Far from life's busy stage, 
 
 How sweet, upon tlie down}' brake reposing ! 
 And nature's wondrous page 
 
 Fresh beauties ever to the sight disclosing ! 
 
 Sweet solitude ! serene 
 
 And undisturbed by sin, or ill's invasion ! 
 How like a fairy dream ! 
 
 How like the glory of the new creation ! 
 
 Lord ! to us restore 
 
 The field and wood, with friends we love and cherish. 
 "When time shall be no more, 
 
 Let not the Earth, with all that's lovely, perish ! 
 
 Let the secluded place. 
 
 The desert and the wilderness, again 
 Declare thy plenteous grace : 
 
 For thine the power and glory be — amen ! 
 
 August, 1870. 
 
IN THE WOODS. 43 
 
 PART sEcoisrr). 
 
 nmn^ovi§ nnd M%^tcn^ mthdmn§. 
 
 m THE WOODS. 
 
 would thou wert beside me, 
 
 Dear angel maid ! — sweet angel maid ! 
 
 To share mj^ transports with me, 
 Amid the shade — amid the shade ! 
 
 Where summer spreads her mantle 
 
 Of gorgeous green — of gorgeous green ! 
 
 The livelong day to ramble, 
 
 And view the scene — and view the scene ! 
 
 Where tuneful birdlings twitter, 
 
 Melodious throng — melodious throng! 
 
 Thy voice to me were sweeter, 
 A lovelier song — a lovelier song ! 
 
 'Mid beauteous forms of nature, 
 
 That round me tower — that round me tower ! 
 Thy presence would enrapture, 
 
 Would charm me more—would charm me more ! 
 
44 LOVE. 
 
 When Sol, with mid-daj^ fierceness, 
 
 Gleams from above — gleams from above ! 
 
 Safe in our leafy fastness, 
 
 We'd talk of love — we'd talk of love ! 
 
 When eve succeeds to noon-day, 
 Delightful even — delightful even ! 
 
 Retracing late our pathway. 
 
 We'd dream of heaven — we'd dream of heaven ! 
 
 And should we by thick darkness 
 
 O'ertaken be — o'ertaken be ! 
 How sweet were night, though starless. 
 
 Abroad with thee- — abroad with thee ! 
 
 June 10, 1871. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 What's so like heaven as love, 
 
 Which e'er in kindred souls triumphant reigns ? 
 'Tis bliss like that above, its sweets to prove. 
 
 While toiling here amid Earth's scenes of pain ! 
 
 To find, amid life's care, 
 
 A heart congenial, answering to one's own ! 
 Nature and nature's God alike declare, 
 
 " It is not good for man to be alone " ! 
 
SANOTUS NATURA. 45 
 
 Alone but half to live, 
 
 Half to enjoy the blessings God has given ; 
 Pleasures which fallen Eden have survived, 
 
 To charm anew, forevermore, in heaven. 
 
 Love cannot be alone I 
 
 The common source and life of all mankind 
 Dwells only in existences combined, 
 
 And in the eternal One. 
 
 Fond hearts are no more twain ! 
 
 But one flesh : — holy to the Lord on high ! 
 Being parcels of the same : 
 
 Nor male and female longer in his eyes ! 
 
 - -^f -r-^ ,fc.i~-*-» - 
 
 SANCTUS NATURA. 
 
 The pathless wood, the leafy grove. 
 
 Nature's unbounded wealth of green, 
 The nearest is to heaven above. 
 
 Of all Earth's sin-polluted scenes ! 
 In realms, and haunts of evil men, 
 
 E-eign wars, and tumults never cease ; 
 In wilderness and lonely glen 
 
 God reigns, and all is peace. 
 
 tranquil bowers ! O gladdening shade ! 
 
 Ye are my joy, my health, my home ! 
 Wherein no blighting cares invade, 
 
 Or guile, or loftiness can come I 
 
46 DEAREST, BREATHE A PRAYER FOR ME. 
 
 Here purity's terrestrial throne, 
 
 And freedom's dwelling place, are found, 
 The soul, unfettered here, alone, 
 Renews its vigor, hence to roam 
 Beyond creation's bounds. 
 
 Had I a monarch's wealth and power, 
 
 I'd ne'er the charms of nature fly, 
 But dwell amid her leafy bowers, 
 
 With one dea*!: kindred spirit nigh ! 
 And oft, when June's sweet breezes sigh 
 
 Through the lone wood, at morn or even, 
 To the luxurious shade I'd hie, 
 While glows the radiant summer sky. 
 
 And dream of love and heaven ! 
 
 SONG. 
 DEAREST, BREATHE A PRAYER FOR ME. 
 
 Thou whose smile alone hath cheered me, 
 
 Oft, when hope its light denied ! 
 Thou whose guileless charms endeared thee 
 
 To ni}'- heart, when by thy side ! 
 Thou for whom my soul", in anguish. 
 
 Oft hath plead on bended knee ! 
 Now, while far from thee I languish. 
 
 Dearest, breathe a prayer for me ! . 
 
DEAREST, BREATHE A PRAYER FOR ME. 47 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thou whose angel guards in heaven 
 
 God's own face forever see, 
 Let one hallowed sigh be given ! 
 
 Breathe one faithful prayer for me ! 
 
 When the festive throng surrounding, 
 
 Seeks to lure thy soul astray ! 
 When the world, with smiles abounding, 
 
 Tempts thee from the child-like way ! 
 Think of him, who lonely waiting. 
 
 Scorns all earthly joy but thee ! 
 And the thouglitless crowd forsaking, 
 
 Dearest, breathe a prayer for me ! 
 
 When thy lovely smile at morning 
 
 Greets with joy the light of day: 
 Ere, the beauteous Earth adorning, 
 
 Goest thou on life's glad way : 
 In thy sweet repose at even, 
 
 Where are none but God and thee, 
 Then to him who hears in heaven, 
 
 Dearest, breathe a prayer for me ! 
 
48 THE FLOWER OF COLUMBIA. 
 
 THE FLOWER OF COLUMBIA. 
 
 In the vale where Connecticut tlows 
 
 O'er meadowlands, blooming and wide, 
 In a cot hedged around by the beauteous rose, 
 
 Did the Flower of Columbia reside : 
 fair in the sweet month of June, 
 
 Was the green lawn, with primroses crowned ! 
 But fairer the Flower of Columbia bloomed 
 
 Than the primroses, all the year round. 
 
 Like the graces, through garden and bower 
 
 She glided, at midsummer morn : 
 Like nightingale's note, at the soft twilight hour. 
 
 Floated oft her melodious song. 
 When flowers deca3'ed on the lawn, 
 
 And pale, gloomy winter drew near, 
 Her presence, like vision of spring's early dawn, 
 
 As she passed o'er the way, did appear. 
 
 3^outh, — lovely, healthful and fair ! 
 
 To thee, blessing's full cup is given ! 
 Can Earth's boasted majesty with thee compare. 
 
 Or aught 'neath the glor}^ of heaven ? 
 The princes of Earth own thy sway, 
 
 Thine ever invincible charms ! 
 The proud monarch oft at th}^ fair feet hath lain. 
 
 For the clasp of thy heart-tempting arms ! 
 
I 
 
 AT THE CHERRY TREE. 49 
 
 How oft, as fond memory strays, 
 
 Those peerless jet eyes on me beam ! 
 And sweet smiles, enlightening ray dark, lonely days, 
 
 Of Columbia's sceptreless queen ! 
 Fair lawn, thou art hallowed for aye ! 
 
 Which oft her light footstep hath pressed ! 
 And thou, placid stream, which wast wont on thy way 
 
 To reflect her immaculate face ! 
 
 ! if 'neath the heavenl}'- dome 
 
 There's pleasure, unmixed and divine, 
 It is his, who can say (tho' all other hath flown) 
 
 There's a heart beats responsive to mine ! 
 And 0, trebly happy his hour ! 
 
 And crowned his allotment with bliss, 
 If the heart of Columbia's beautiful Flower 
 
 Be the one that responds unto his ! 
 
 Columbia, N. H., August, 1869. 
 
 AT THE CHERRY TREE. 
 
 I love the scattered wood, that waves 
 
 O'er the brooklet, by our home ; 
 And the spreading cherry tree, that shades 
 
 The mossy wall of stone : 
 For once, when full of luscious fruit 
 
 It hung, as full could be, 
 I met the fairest, loveliest one, 
 
 There at the cherry tree. 
 
50 AT THE CHERRY TREE. 
 
 0, had they golden apples been, 
 
 The smile had well repaid, 
 With which, accepted at my hand, 
 
 Were fruit and proffered aid ; 
 And the dear lips, which might have spoke 
 
 The word of life to me, 
 Said : " Thank you ! — thank you e'er so much," 
 
 There at the cherry tree. 
 
 Dear one ! — nay, pause ! — that hallowed theme 
 
 (I may not speak of love,) 
 Is not for one so poor and mean ! 
 
 'Tis too like heaven above ! 
 And yet, beyond the pearly gate, 
 
 I hope some time to be 
 With angels, like the one I met 
 
 There at the cherry tree. 
 
 All earthly ties and joj^s are frail 
 
 And mutable, I know ! 
 But who can hope for heaven above, 
 
 With ne'er a taste below ! 
 And such, to my poor human heart, 
 
 Such precious moments be. 
 As I that summer day enjoyed 
 
 Beside the cherry tree. 
 
LINES TO AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 51 
 
 LINES TO AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 Dear friend, should you ask what perfection of bliss, 
 
 In my poor opinion, would be, 
 The answer at once would be something like this : 
 As often as would with her pleasure consist. 
 To be with a certain young, dear little Miss, 
 And get, now and then, such a heavenly kiss, 
 
 As angels might envy e'en me. 
 
 I know not what raptures await all the just. 
 
 In realms we are seeking on high : 
 But candor compels me, and say it I must, 
 There's raptures below I would like to \\?iYQ fust ! 
 And have 'em I will, in my lifetime, or bust, 
 
 Go crazy, get hateful, and die ! 
 
 There's a sweet little angel, without any wings, 
 
 Has blessed my glad vision e'en here ; 
 And, judging b}^ earthly of heavenly things, 
 By the joy that a glimpse of her dear presence brings, 
 If all earthly good flows from heavenly springs, 
 
 How lovely the fount must appear ! 
 
52 LINES TO E- , IN ABSENCE. 
 
 LINES TO E , IN ABSENCE. 
 
 Though far far removed, yet my thoughts are with thee, 
 My heart is away in thine own peaceful home : 
 
 But ! for thy radiant presence, to be 
 
 A light to my path, through the wild as I roam. 
 
 ! scorn not the earnest, the amorous sigh. 
 
 Which oft for thy soul in my bosom doth burn ! 
 
 Thrice buried within must the dead spirit lie, 
 
 Which never for mortal companion hath 3'earned. 
 
 How sweet the communion of spirits that love. 
 The joys how exquisite that fond lovers know ! 
 
 ! rapture like that of the blessed above, 
 
 When young hearts and faithful together do flow. 
 
 The glimmering light through the tree tops at dawn. 
 The morning's red gleam o'er the forest, is fair; 
 
 The camp-fire is cheering wli^n bright day is gone, 
 And 0, life were joyous if thou wert but there ! 
 
 ! love, with thee only existence is real. 
 And all earthlj^ treasure a thing to desire ! 
 
 The heart is a void which hath not its ideal. 
 Its realm of affection to which to aspire. 
 
 Magalloway Woods, Nov., 1872. 
 
PUNS. 53 
 
 PUNS. 
 
 Lines accompanying some Wild Flowers presented to a 
 
 Lady Friend. 
 
 Loveliest of woodland flowers ! 
 
 Blooming far from Earth's rude gaze ! 
 Deck tliou her inviolate bower, 
 
 Whose charms, like thine, seek not display. 
 There dispense thy matchless fragrance! 
 
 Fearlessly thy tints expose ! 
 And, at last, let her sweet presence 
 
 Lull thy petals to repose ! 
 
 LINES 
 
 Written in the Office of a»«JIotel, kept by a gentle- 
 man named Fitts. 
 
 Lone, toiling o'er life's weary road, 
 
 Beset by snares and pits, 
 To lodge and rest me from my load, 
 
 Give me, give me Fitts ! 
 
 LINES 
 Written in March, 18G3, during the Great Rebellion. 
 
 When Biirnside, sore, the rebels feel ; 
 And Hooker doth their laurels steal ; 
 
54 PUNS. 
 
 Rosecrans hath rose again in might, 
 
 And put their Braggart hosts to flight ; 
 
 When Banks shall pay, and to them waft 
 
 Hard coin for every rebel draft : 
 
 And Uncle Sam's sharp Sickles reap 
 
 Secesh's harvest, heaps on heaps : 
 
 When everywhere secession water 
 
 Gives place to stout old Yankee Porter, 
 
 Which our chief Butler on occasions 
 
 Sets on, to treat confederation : 
 
 When once against secession rule. 
 
 Our Pope lets loose his mighty bull. 
 
 And canonizes, without quarter, 
 
 Whole regiments of rebel martyrs ; 
 
 When rebel Hindman is in front, 
 
 Pursued by yankees bold and Blunt, 
 
 And Uncle Sammy's Foote comes down. 
 
 Like thunderbolt, on Pemberton ; 
 
 When Abram, as of old, doth arm 
 
 The servants born on his own farm, 
 
 Three hundred thousand and eighteen, 
 
 And chases old secesh to Dan, 
 
 Then may our Hunter, not in vain, 
 
 The Forest scour in search of game ; ^ 
 
 Then Harker, on his nightly round, 
 
 Shall hear from Tombs a doleful sound ; 
 
 Fortune our flag will then in Richmond plant, 
 
 And Jeffy's Unconditional Surrender Grant. 
 
MORNING IN SUMMER. 55 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 MORNING IN SUMMER. 
 
 How sweet, at early morn, the view 
 Of nature, witli its changing hues ! 
 The golden clouds, the sky so blue. 
 The sun o'er mountains shining. 
 
 When long has been the summer rain, 
 And balmy morning dawns again, 
 The dripping herbage, grass and grain, 
 And opening buds reclining! 
 
 Through overhanging fog and spray, 
 Tlie cheerful sparrow hails the day; 
 The joyous thrush, with melting lay, 
 Breaks forth in tuneful chiming ! 
 
 O ! who can muse at early morn, 
 When nature's smiles the Earth adorn, 
 'Mid all the sweets of life new-born. 
 With heart in grief repining ? 
 
56 EVENING IN WINTER. 
 
 Full sad must be the lot of him, 
 
 'J 
 
 Who, pondering nature's beauteous scene, 
 Still broods o'er sorrows which have been. 
 His soul ill bonds confining ! 
 
 August, 1856. 
 
 EVENING IN WINTEE. 
 
 The moon gleams o'er the snowy hill, • 
 
 The massive glaciers shine 
 Like streams which summer's sunlight gilds, 
 
 Or ocean's glittering brine. 
 
 How calml}'-, when bright day is gone, 
 
 The tender, radiant beams. 
 That usher in the Lunar morn. 
 
 Steal o'er the silvery scene ! 
 
 O'er the white mantle, far and near. 
 Which nature's form enshrouds. 
 
 Decking with splendor mild and clear 
 The wavy wintry clouds. 
 
 Serenely as resplendent pearl, 
 Gleams from its tempting height. 
 
 Upon a rapt, admiring world. 
 The glory of the night. 
 
EVENING IN WINTER. 57 
 
 Anon, before that placid brow, 
 
 A silver}^ cloud arrayed, 
 Darkens the sea of glass below 
 
 With fleeting, spectral shade. 
 
 Deep silence reigns o'er all around, 
 
 Stillness, as of the grave ; 
 Save as within its icy bounds, 
 
 Gurgles the streamlet's wave. 
 
 Save as from yonder glimmering rocks, 
 
 O'er snow-fields echoing far, 
 The cry of the marauding fox 
 
 Breaks on the peaceful air. 
 
 In silent rapture, as we dwell 
 
 Upon such scene of even. 
 Seems as removed the mystic veil 
 
 Between the Earth and Heaven. 
 
 As if o'er all His works abroad, 
 
 Amid the wondrous calm, 
 Jehovah spake Tlis mighty word, 
 
 In still, small voice — " I Am." 
 
 February, 1856. 
 
58 SEBASTOPOL. 
 
 A BETTER LAND.* 
 
 Is there a land where all are free ? 
 
 Free from contention, woe and strife ? 
 Is there a people free from pain 
 
 Of things connected with this life ? 
 
 And are there hearts which never mar 
 Each other's peace and quietude ? 
 
 Are there no sounds which ever jar 
 Upon pure virtue's solitude ? 
 
 Where is that land ? for I would go 
 Where all is peaceful, all serene ; 
 
 A land where striving never shows 
 Its hideous forms, replete with sin. 
 
 SEBASTOPOL. 
 
 Written in 1S54, during the Siege of Sebastopol by 
 England, France and Turkey. 
 
 Sebastopol is the talk of all ; 
 
 Sebastopol and they 
 Who toil beneath its massive wall, 
 
 Who fight both night and day, 
 And strange events, and great and small. 
 Are passing o'er Sebastopol. 
 
 * The writer's first attempt at verse. 
 
8EBASTOPOL. 69 
 
 The journals of the press come in 
 
 With tidings flowing o'er, 
 How Gortschakoff the fight did win, 
 
 And save the Russian towers : 
 And Raglan took his leave of all, 
 And died before Sebastopol. 
 
 How Johnny Bull sits in his chair, 
 And reads the late advices ; 
 
 And starting from his seat, he stares, 
 And then his choler rises ; 
 
 To see his power grown so small 
 
 It cannot take Sebastopol. 
 
 All stories, true and false, are out, 
 'Twas said the third Napoleon 
 
 Was going to take the chief command, 
 And drive all things before him : 
 
 But now, the news comes, after all, 
 
 He has not seen Sebastopol. 
 
 The Austrian?, they made a stir; 
 
 Were going to join the allies : 
 The Scots, and the Sardinians, 
 
 And all creation, rallies 
 To bring about the final fall 
 Of Russia and Sebastopol. 
 
 M. Kossuth eyes the scene askance 
 
 From his neglected corner, 
 In hopes he, too, can find a chance, 
 
 And restore his nation's honor : 
 
60 SEBASTOPOL. 
 
 But no ! — it would not do at all 
 To have hirti at Sebastopol. 
 
 He who has once been through the mill, 
 And seen its various windings, 
 
 Tells them, " Beware of Austria " still, 
 They too may get a grinding. 
 
 He points his hand to AVarsaw's wall, 
 
 " There, you can take Sebastopol ! " 
 
 And so it goes : — the allied hosts 
 Are full of sick and dying ; 
 
 From cold, and hunger, and their posts, 
 The men, all ways, are flying. 
 
 While thousands by the bullets fall 
 
 Of Russians, at Sebastopol. 
 
 In England's house of Parliament 
 Comes up the usual question. 
 
 What's doing by our gallant men 
 At the seat of operations ? 
 
 The answer echoes through the hall, 
 
 " They 've not yet taken Sebastopol ! " 
 
LAMENT FOR SUMMER. ' 61 
 
 LAMENT FOR SUMMER. 
 
 How dreary the broad face of nature apj)ears, 
 
 How bleak is the prospect where all was so gay ! 
 
 The chilly winds howl as pale winter draws near, 
 And wan desolation comes on day by day. 
 
 But lately I roamed o'er the meadows at morn, 
 The cattle stood grazing all quiet and still, 
 
 The bright sun o'er green waving foliage shone, 
 And tuneful birds flitted o'er field and o'er hill. 
 
 I sang, as I gazed on the prospect so sweet, 
 O what is like summer, so cheerful and mild ! 
 
 And forgot that, ere long, winter's boisterous feet 
 Would change the fair scene to one dreary and wild. 
 
 Where the rich orchard bloomed, now the trees are all 
 bare. 
 
 The little birds sing in their branches no more ; 
 The soft, downy snow-flakes that float on the air, 
 
 All tell us, too plainly, that summer is o'er. 
 
 November, 1853. 
 
POEMS 
 
 oi^ iiir. 
 
 IMAGALLOWAY 
 
 GRANVILLE P, WILSON 
 
 i879, 
 
 - * r ■»;«'" J*--*-* - 
 
 GORHAM, N. H. 
 MOUNTAINEER PRINT 
 
 1880. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 016 256 228 9