y^^I \& ■■»>" V Ir )' /VND picT-uRy OF ^-m 4^ #:^f^#^ \ i (i f«/' ISl/f"*/! -^ <^ Y( LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. %}t (3njii|ri0]^i :^o Shelf..!Xl... UNITLI) STATES OF AMERICA. rt^i rP 'LET ME, THEN, THY TRUE LOVE BE." TWILIGHT DREAMS BEING ^oexxxs axxb ^^ictixxcs of Jlifc anb ^Tature FRED BARNARD. ROBERT BARNES. ALLAN BARRAUD. AV. H. J. BOOT. GEORGE CLAUSEN. FRANK DADD. FRANK DICKSEE, A.R.A. ILLUSTRATIONS BY M. ELLEN EDW.\RDS. W. BISCOMBE GARDNER. MARY L. GOW. CHARLES GREGORY. W. HATHERELL. ARTHUR HOPKINS. G. G. KILBURNE. R. W. MACBETH, A.R.A- W. H. OVEREND. SUTTON PALMER. J. McL. RALSTON. WILLLAM SMALL. W. L. WYLLIE. &C. &c. NEW YORK CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 104 & 106 Fourth Avenue ^ Copyright, iSgi, by CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. A /I rights reserved. CONTENTS. PACK My Margaret. Mar^* D. Brine 7 A Letter. George NVeatherly 8 Farewell to the Suallous. Edward Oxen ford 9 I'he Sister's Choice ; a Sonnet. George W'eatherly. lo-ii The Village May-Day. J. R. Eastwood 11 Untrodden. Isabella Banks 12 What the River Sayeth. \Vm. A. Gibbs 13 bpring Blossoms. Edward Oxenford 14 On the Bridge where the Rivers Meet. Charles Johns. 15 A Day-Dream. John Francis Waller 16-17 £irly Flowers. Jane Dixon i8-ig Coming Home 20 ^^gThe Reason 21 ^^ Life-Furrows ; a Sonnet. George Weatherly 22-23 Svs eetly are the Wild Birds Singing 23 " Once Amid the Roses." A Song of Love and Grief. Jane Dixon 24 Deep and True. John Francis Waller 25 Nature's Colors 26 A Sketch. T. C. Irwin 27 Summer Days zS Together. George Weatherly .-• 29 A Noon-Dream 30 Autumn 31 A Bridal Song. J.F.Waller 32 At an Italian Spinning-Wheel M G Watkins 32-33 The Church of the Pilg'-im Fathers Kibella Banks ^4- - T 1 Redbreast E G Chnrlesw orth 1 he Telling of the Trees George \\ eatherl> b ng of the Morning John Hine 30 The BelU ^nd ine \\a\es Fredenck E.^\eatherl> 39 The RustiL btile Rea .... . . 40-41 JVIy ^Maf{qaf(et! ^Y Margaret, uoukl lliat I could be The breeze which softly kisses thee ; Or else those sunlieaiiis, warm and bright, Which crown thy head with golden light." " The breeze," she answered , '' dies away. And sunbeams fade with close of day." ''Then if I were those flouers fair Which thou, dear girl, art carrying there, To wear perchance upon thy breast — Oh. happy flowers, so loved, so blest ! " " The flowers fair must fade," said she ; " Then I shall cast them off froin me ! " " Well, let me then thy true love be, Winning thine every thought for me ; 111 envy not the breeze or flower, Nor e'en the sunshine's golden dower." " Ah, love I cannot cast away, But hold for ever, night and day ! " 7 Mary D. Brine. LETTER. ' )'^iy ^Z^ ^ OOD news or evil, sunshine or shadow—- "^ What is the message the postman bor?, ]\I eating a lassie midway in the meadow, Bringing a letter from distant shore? " Wounded to death ! " — so ran the letter — " Wounded to death in the front of the fray ! " Dying right nobly surely is better Than living to bask in life's sunniest ray ! " Wounded to death ! " — Ay. almost to dymg, But the great God gave back the life that seemed lost. And even now while the maiden was sighing, The far-stretching lea;gues of the ocean were crossed. And just when the sky seemed most cloudy and dreary, And all was as dark as a dull autumn day. The soldier was back, with his own little dearie, And the sunshine burst forth with a glad summer ray. MUST you go, and leave us "^Sitf J^^S lone, ^E^A!s==t — Companions of our summer hours ? Alas ! when you afar have flown A weary life will then be ours. We oft have watched at sunny eve The changes in your airy flight, And longed like you the air to cleave With hearts all buoyant with delight. We saw you come in lovely spring, When all the earth was bright and gay, And hearty was our welcoming. Yet you so soon will fly away ! To southern lands, where spring is still, And balmy odours fill the air, You haste o'er stream and dale and hill : O would that we could follow there ! With you depart sweet summer days, And winter shows its icy hand ; Bright flow'rets fade before our gaze, And falling leaves bestrew the land. Ah, you must go, alas ! farewell ! 'Twere death for )'ou with us to stay, But hopes within our hearts will dwell That we shall meet again in May. Edward Oxenford. THE VILLAGE MA V- DAY. n^ILED up with sticks, to yonder town J^ The great mill-waggon lumbers down ; ^ Drawn by three horses, tall and strong, The great mill-waggon rolls along. The miller's smock is clean and new. And smart with ribbons, red and blue ; And tinkling bells on bridle-rein Have made the stately horses vain. And every year the first of May Is made the village holiday : The school is closed : the children run In meadows smiling with the sun. And now before the nr.ll they w.ut. While some, impatient, climb the gate, And shout with glee, when drawing near The loudly rumbling wheels they hear. And soon the horses loom in sight. With gay rosettes and harness bright, While close beside the leader's head The miller walks with sturdy tread. Long may the festive day come round And find the miller hale and sound, And may his goods increase, and still The great wheel turn his busy mill. J. R. Easi'WOOD. THE SISTERS' CHOICE: A SONNET. ■ E whom I love," cries sunny thought- less Rose, "I\[ust be a hero, dauntless in the fight, Fair as Apollo, gifted with the might Of Ajax, triumphing where'er he goes." Madge looks up from, her book with face that glows : " He rather shall be precious in my sight Who has the strength to choose and do the right. Who's kind and gentle both to friends and foes." So speak the sisters, each as she deems best, Each with a bright ideal cf her own : "V^et who can tell what lot to each may fall? Love is a kindly master after all. And buries the ideals we have known. That present bliss may bring us joy and rest. G. Weatherly. WHAT THE RIVER SAYETH ■i":: [AVE rushed thro' the rock But now, Uke a traveller Whose lire is troubled, whose heart is sore And whose future is darkly dreary— I rest 'neath the pleasant soft shade of the trees In the depths of Relleclion's calm po"l, And gather fresh strength from a moment of ease And my feverish hurryings cool. 1 was oom in the Cloud-land, endowed with swift motion. And sent on my mission through Earth To bear onward men's thoughts, like their ships, to th& ocean. There to find in that death their true birth ; 'Tis for this that my powers are ceaselessly hurled 'Gainst obstructions of dull rock and shoal. To contribute pure waters to freshen the world And to gladden the sorrowful soul. Wm, a. Gibbs. SPRING BLOSSOMS. 7^ HERE is no time so sweet as spring, , :% When Nature dons her best ; ^ Dispell'd is gloom when bud and bloom Awake from winter's rest. The birds again their carols sing Within the vernal trees ; And violets rise, with purple eyes, To greet the gentle breeze ! O spring is sweet, for ev'ry flow'r Glows gaily in the sun ; And in the air it breathes a pray'r For hours so sweet begun ! 14 No longer reigns the frost and snow, Soft summer now is nigh ; The buds of spring the tidings bring That wintry days must die ; O'er hill and dale the herald roves, With flow'rets in his hand, And casts away the blossoms gay To deck the waking land ! O spring is sweet, for evry fiow'r Glows gaily in the sun ; And in the air it breathes a pray'r For hours so sweet begun ! Edward Oxenford. ^j^'^ EARS ago, when the wind was low, V'Y^ And the east was dim and grey, — And the west was red with the sunset-glow, And the daylight ebbed away. And never a sound came through the night Save the rush of waters fleet, I stood where I stand in the waning light, On the bridge where the rivers meet. To the north the tall tors kissed the sky, To the south was the restful sea, To the right and left green hills rose high, And a high hill fronted me ; And down twin valleys on either hand Raced the stream^ to meet and greet. As I stood in the dusk where now I stand, On the bridge where the rivers meet. 15 Over the river from left to right Spread a mist across the vale, Like a still sea, spectral, filmy, and white; And the crescent moon rose pale, And the stars looked down on the streams that sped Through the arches 'neath my feet, As I stood where I stand, with drooping head, On the bridge where the rivers meet. The years have come, and the years have gone. And have left their marks on me ; But the river unchanged speeds gaily on To the ever-changing sea ; The hills are unaltered far and near, And the still scene is complete : I alone seem changed who linger here On the bridge where the rivers meet. L'HARLES fOHNa T^ Sank deepest down upon the woodKnd ^lade, \nd all the buds weie mute — 1 H) beside A lake within the tores'- b he lit and Lulled by the heat, half sleeping halt au ake, I saw, or di earned I saw, within the lake Stiani^e shadow) phantoms mo\inj to and fro And, floating on the surface, bubbles bright And many-hued were dancing— ruby-red. Purple and azure, and of every shade That Iris steals from sunshine when the light Pierces the rain-drops. Ever and anon I saw the phantom-creatures spring to snatch Some glittering bubble, and at last to catch An airy globe that burst— and then "t was gone. And down the creatures fell, or, thrust aside By others struggling upwards, passed from sight And some, before they reached the water's heiglit Where played these mocking globules, sank and died While now and then I saw some creature lie Calm and unmoving, though before its eyes On the translucent water glowed a prize Brightest and largest, dancing vainly by. i6 " -Man, what thou seest, is the type of life. And all those creatures are thy felluw men, Evermore vainly seeking to attain Those bubble-prizes amid toil and strife- Power and wealth and fame. Yet some, more wise. Know they are vanity and empty air, And so they heed them not. and give no care To gain the glittenng things the others prize. " Soon all those little lives shall pass away, And all those bubbles burst. Then, mortal, know The nothingness of all things here below. Elsewhere the Real seek.'" From whf re 1 lay I sprang affrighted, and I looked around. I saw the fishes swimming in the lake. Darting up swift the summer flies to take, And heard the grasshopper's clear ringing sound. John Francis Waller, 17 i:ari.v fi.(_)\vers. ^d^WICJCT Spring-time flowers, froni tlie moist cardi peeping;, W'clcomo, as sunshine alter pleasant rain ! Out of warm bulbs, that long have held you sleeping Like buried hopes, you start to life again. Welcome ! and cluster on the brow of Morning ; The icicles have melted from her hair ; Her floating auburn tresses want adorning, And your pure bells sh ill make them very fair. ■Old Winter, crowned with mistletoe and holly. Is stealing from us quietly at last ; And now the trees bud, it is worse than folly To muse among the ashes of the past. Blackbird and thrush and ouzel, in their gladness. Have charmed away the winter of the soul ; The mask has fallen from ungenial sadness, And the benighted heart is once more whole. One redbreast on my window-sill yet lingers. And peers about with prying round black eye, Far cheerier than when ^^"inter's numbing fingers Half robbed his little throat of melody ; "VYe cannot hearken to the ghostly voices Of vanished hours, and brood by lonely fires, Since every bursting bud and leaf rejoices, The faintest echo of sad sound expires. Jane Dixon. ROM afar across the ocean, Homeward speeds my sailor d.ar — Not in vain my long devotion, For at last he's sailing near ! Years have vanished since he lefl me. Gazing sadly o'er the sea ; Oh, his bark of all bereft me — Now he's coming home to me ! Farewell sorrow ! sighs are dying ; Tears are strangers now to me ! For my faithful love is hieing Homeward o'er the smiling sea ! Where the wavelets, white and curling, Round the olden jetty play, — 'Neath the sea-birds airy whirling — I have watched from day to day ! Thoughts have risen whilst I lonely Pac'd along the beaten shore, Thoughts that he, whom I love only, Home was coming never more ! Farewell sorrow ! sighs are dyinsr ; Tears are strangers now to me ! For my faithful love is hieing Homeward o'er the smiling sea ! ;®> THE PEASON. 'HAT is it gives my darling- grace, And makes lier peerless in mine eves ? Is it the glory of her face, The myriad beauties all can trace In her, my prize ? Is it the sunshine of her glance ? Is it the pureness of her brow ? Is it the sunny smiles that dance On rosy lips, that so entrance And chain me now ? No ! Herein lies my darling's might ; And this is all her witchery — That with a love that's pure and bright. Fervent and sti ong as noonday light, My love loves me ! 21 LIFE-FURROWS: A SONNET. I WO horses, harnessed to 2 plough, stand still, ' W.iitinjj the voice whose words they've learned to know : Then, at the ploughman's signal, proudly slow They plod with patient footsteps up the hill ; And since with sturdy hand and steady will The keen-edged share is driven to and fro, ^ Up-hill and down alike the furrows go True as a line, unturned by any ill. Are not our lives just like the ploughman's share .'' The Providence that rules them may decree That we plough uj) the hill through toilsome days, And obstacles may meet us everywhere ; Vet if our hands be true in all our ways, The furrows will be straight and fair to see. G. Weather LY. SWEETLY ARE THE WILD BIRDS SINGING. I WEETLY are the wild birds singing, ) Softly purls the silvery rill, Yet though all around is lovely, I am lonely, lonely still ! Vainly sunbeams spread before me. Vainly flowers their scents impar; — I am lonely, desolation Reigns supreme within my heart ! Vainly are the wild birds singing Vainly purls the silv'ry rill ; For though all around is lovely, I am lonely, lonely still. 23 Ah ! how long ere patient waiting, Waiting that to bear is hard, Finds in love that cannot alter. Bliss that is a full reward. Soon, ay soon, or life will vanish, 4 Hope on wearied wings depart ; Soon, or else despair will silence Beatings of this weary heart ! Vainly are the wild birds singing, Vainly purls the silv'ry rill ; For though all around is lovely, . I am lonely, lonely still. Sir ; Once Ajviid the I^o^e^." A SONG OF LOVE AND GRIEF. ^NCE amid the roses bright, Ruby-red, honey-sweet, -<^4i^ You and I, in laughing weather, Sang a lay of love together ; Petals falling on our feet. When shall summer be so light ? Never more ! Oh, never more ! Once beside the snow-drops, dear, Waxen pale, wintry cold, Grief and I, in wailing weather. Sang a dirge of tears together ; Raindrops dripping on the mould. When shall winter be so drear } Never more ! Ah, never more ! 24 Jane Dixon. DEEP jr^OOK in mine eyes, my fairest, H\\J^.j As I look into tliine ; Piercing the boughs, having somewhat to sa To fairies couched on bubbles round the po I T. c. r ly 28 ^^^x^/ TOGETHER. t SAPLING oak, with clincrinsr ivy bound, So that in common, on their leaves en- twined. The warm sun shines, or blows the wintry wind ; Together both grow upward, and are crowned With all the glory in perfection found, And then together in old age decay. Until at last there comes a stormy day, That bears them, still twined closely, to tne ground. Two loving hearts, firm-bound in early youth. That pass together down the vale of years. Through sunny joys, through cloudy griefs and fears, So closely knit in bonds of love and truth, That when old age comes on, still hand in hand, They both pass onward to the Better Land. 2Q G. Weatherly. -s :; NOON-DREAM. '*~p^ WAS in a noon-dream by the summer bay, 1 jl Spirit, tliy vision rose upon my sight ; ■^ A presence which came floating o'er the spray Like a rich soul of odorous wind and Hght, That seemed famihar as one passed away, Gentle, beloved, returned from yonder height To _;uard and to inspire ; and all that day Most radiant phantasies, aerial, warm, Vnd ^weet as summer, vibrating at will. My fancy shaped : nor art thou gone, for still I dream of thee when sorrow and when ni^ht Are round me, and my fancy shapes thy form, And brow of meteor-beauty, that on me Glows from the levels of the star-dim sea AUTUMN, J^EYOND the mountains sloped in © grey, -^'~^ A ruined continent of golden cloud, Blown seaward on the wind of sunset, showed Beneath its fiery toppling summits proud, The shapes of flaming cities stretched auay, With amphitheatre and obelisk Above the murmurous sea's saturnine disk, Awhile : until, distombed in stormy glare. It streamed in ashen islands down the air ; Then up the void the wind dolorous heaves The dark battalions of the clouds, and bodes Over the glooming lands where twilight grieves Inconstant ; drifting o'er the sad dry roads, Monotonous litanies of withered leaves. A BRIDAL SONG. 9i Cstf:^^ OST thou linger, gentle maiden, At the minster door ? Dost thou tremble, tender maiden, On the chancel floor? Dost thou fear, and dost thou falter, When thou kneelest at the altar ? With the bridegroom by thee now Wilt thou take the marriage vow ? If thy heart, O loving maiden ! Thou hast given away. Without fear, O trustful maiden ! Give thy hand to-day. Leaving father, leaving mother, Give thy life unto another. Taking back a dearer life From his love as wedded wife. Let him lead thee, wedded maiden, From the altar now. Thou art his for ever, maiden, By that marriage vow. His in joy and sorrow ever, None these holy bonds may sever. Loving, trusting, stand beside Him who loves thee, happy bride ! J. F. Waller. AT AN ITALIAN SPINNING-WHEEL. Vlir) UN, my wheel, run fast and faster ! Love will 'JKy laugh at all disaster ; •^ What if Beppo see Lucia near the pine-grove on the hill .' Honeyed words and fair pretences may beguile his wandering senses. But the finch once more his mate seeks when the fowler's pipe is still. Run, my wheel, run fast and faster ! Say, hath love then found its master, That my heart is vaguely throbbing, and my glances seek the gate ? And at length when sunset flushes all the west, my cheeks with blushes Are aflame because a step comes — but the vineyard- dresser, late ! Run, my wheel, now slow, more slowly ! Do these knots, the white wool wholly Complicating, weave in tangles till e'en patience half despairs ? S.idly now bodes sober reason that in time a chilly season Sorrow. laden must succeed ere use love's plighted circle wears. Run, my wheel, run slow, more slowly ! Let e'en happiness be lowly, And remember how the future days of darkness will disclose ; Yet my blackbird " tirra lirra " sings ; and when 1 ask my mirror. Beauty whispers, loving trust and hope disarm love's ancient foes. Stop, my wheel ! Ah 1 threads, by breaking you remind me that forsaking Snaps a hfe-love more than death parts ; I'll address me to my wool ; Love and Duty are twin-sisters, with them walk we through the vistas Of the darkened days in front, and trust with mercies they'll be full. Run, my wheel, again, run gaily ! Jealous angers, die out daily ! Can Lucia's eyes dim these ? her love, what is it matched with mine .' Round her face my moth may flutter, but should trouble even mutter Near my heart, he'd swift fly back with " Giulietta I I am thine I " Run, my wheel — but why this trembling .' Peace, my heart, no more dissembling ! Some one comes — the blackbird chirrups — still advances — still alarms — Through the oleanders pushes — by the roses careless brushes — Stop, my wheel— ah, stop ! — 'tis Beppo ! and I'm locked within his arms ! M. G. Watkins. 32 33 THE CHURCH OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. BY ISABELLA BANKS. ^O the green primeval forests across the | No gallant bark was theirs to steer, only a WT western wave, I time-worn boat. Oppression drove a slender band of true hearts strong and brave : They could not think as others thought, nor feel as others felt, Nor obey the royal edict to kneel where others knelt ; But they had heard of shores afar by priestly feet untrod ; So they sought that land for conscience' sake — their With stores as small as seamanship— and yet she kept aficat, For Faith and Hope were at the helm amid the tempest's roar ; — But Hope was dead and Faith was nnr.ih before they reached the shore, Where children faint, and women pale, first pressed their feeble feet. Five grains of wheat ! — ay, think of it ! — were all for each thin hand, When the Mayflower had sailed her last, and brought her freiijht to land. But — for prayer and praise unfettered, at once the welliin rans And they, who from cathedral aisles had fled in fear and scorn. In a grander tJod-buiit temple could worship eve and morn, Beneath the interlacing boughs like arches over- head. With the anthems ot thanksgiving those grateful I Where verdure of a virgin turf a silent carpet pilgrims sang, ! spread, Ere a roof was theirs to shelter, or fruits their j And stately as a pillared shaft uprose each tall tree- parched lips prest — [ bole. They had touched the land of promise, and left to j With the sun-rays— God's bright fingers — to glorify God the rest ! ,^ the whole. 36 THE FELLING OF THE TREES. _tJTS,N the groves, where birds are singing, \iy Loud the woodman's axe is ringing, '^1= And the trees are falling, falling, Like dead monarchs to the ground ; And the tree-tops, softly sighing, Li the world to which we're clinging Don't we hear the axe too ringing, While the sons of toil are falling In whole forests to the ground? And the souls of men are sighing, Chant sad dirges for the dying, And the breezes low replying Seem to whisper all around : '"'Tis the common fate they're meeting, Soon or late will come the greeting Of the woodman unto all ! Some with gaunt arms grim and olden ; Some with proud boughs ivy-folden ; Some with young-year leafage golden. Straight and tall 1 Some with props and stays upholden, Lest they fall ! 37 Murm'ring dirges for the dying, While all brave hearts are replying, Looking past the grassy mound : " 'Tis the common lot we 're meeting. Soon or late must come the greetmg Of the Woodman Death to all ! Som.e whom Time has passed o'er lightly ! Some whose chubby hands clasp nightly ! Some whose sad eyes light up brightly At the call '. Some whose sparse locks glimmer whitely t All must fall \ " G. Weatherly. LIGHT from beyond the sea up-breaking Whitens tJie stainless blue afar ; Pale in heaven is the morning star ; Earth from the hush of sleep is waking. Glowing clouds on the glowing azure, Amber and rose, with golden rim, Over the far horizon dim. Sailing away in light-winged measure. Waves and waves on the dusky ocean Flash and burn in the rising light. Numberless, wide as the infinite, Mingle and blend in bright commotion. Drops of light on the branches quiver, Drops of light on the grasses gleam, Pure and clear as the morning beam, Shake and shine by the shining river. Clad in light, and the low winds shaking Dews from her beautiful locks, earth lies Smiling up to the beautiful skies — Earth from the hush of sleep is waking. John Huie. THE BELLS AND THE WAVES. "T^HE Waves. — What is your song, O bells ? The Bells. — We ring to rest, to praise, and prayer ; God's hand and love are everywhere. The Waves. — Ring on, O bells, and bless the twilight air. We, too, are God's, for he is every- where. The Bells. — What is your song, O waves ? The Waves. — Sunshine and storm, no rest have we, Our song is of eternity. The Bells. — Eternity ! eternity ! The Poet. — The bells shall ring, the waves shall chime. Through all the years of deepening time, Till time itself at last shall be Merged in God's chime — eternity. Frederick E. Weatiierly. Z9 41 THE FISHER-GIRL'S SONG BY THE REV. M. G. WATKINS. llj^LY, my needle, through the drift- yfL-f net, while love sings an evening song ; Love can lighten every burden, with love's aid no toil is long. Far at sea's my fisher-laddie, but there's sunshine on the deep ; Love misgives, though, darksome night falls ; in its arms care cannot sleep. Grimly smiles the fort this evening ; by its guns the sea-pinks bloom ; With the morning through grey mist- wreaths death in thund'rous foam may boom. Many a gallant ship sails outward bound, ' 'i|^ and never home comes more. Or, returning home in safety, goes to pieces on the shore. Ocean's heart is deeply bosomed, but its face is seamed with scars ; Fair of promise, love's beginnings, sunken isles, then reefs and bars. On the rocks rue's glory rests, and sway- ing weeds their sternness deck ; Cruel rocks aye in their strength ; see ! yonder by them lies a wreck. Fly, my needle, through the gashes where the seals their inroads made ; . Toil is long when love is absent, by a kiss is toil repaid. Oh, come sunshine, darkness, death, or wreck or ruin, give me love ! Love can henl all ills here, Hope says ; and Faith whispers, " Up above !" 43 TO THE RESCUE. J MID thick mists of freezing blinding spray, Sad-hearted watchers on the rocky shore Hear the ship signals 'mid the tempest's roar : " No boat can live in such a sea," they say ; " Who tries to save must cast his life away !" And yet brave crews speed gladly to the fore, And bring the wreck'd ones back to life once more, Empower'd by Him Whom winds and waves obej-. So is it ever here : Man, proudly wise, ^ Cries, " Hope is lost ; in vain to work or pray !" Then He, in Whom the highest mercy lies. Looks down from heaven in loving gracious way And man himself is strengthened to do well By Him to whom all things are possible. . ,,.'HEN men need help, can we pass coldly by? ^''' When, with despairing hearts, the mourners weep, Dare we, unmoved, sink tranquilly to sleep ? Have we no ears to hear the widow's sigh — The wife's lament — the hopeless bitter cry That reaches us across the troubled deep, When the fierce waves their awful har\est reap. And one by one brave hearts sink down and die ? Has Pity lost her old-time loving touch ? Does Charity but seek herself to please ? Nay, God be praised, kind hearts will ever be To whom Christ's words are spoken : " Inasmuch As ye have done it unto one of these, Ye have most truly done it unto Ale." G W DEPARTED DAYS. ;? UMMER'S sweet breath, and winter's wind, ^ Have swept the landscape since I stood ^ And watch'd the ebbing of the flood, And knew the anguish of a mind That in wild ebb and flow was tost, When, as the leaves of autumn fell, When all the music overhead Was but the echo of our own. Proud loom the distant towers ; the moon Sheds its pale splendours over all ; While night, with tender, noiseless pall. Hath cover'd earth and me too soon. Upon my spirit came the knell That she would with the flowers be lost. A gleam of hope, like that rich light Which gives October golden bloom, Rose in my breast, but set in gloom : ■Cwas but sun dying into night. Now she is gone, and I alone Have trod the paths we used to tread, 46 O long-lost moments ! nevermore Shall ye return, or 1 leap up To drink from that divinest cup My lips once drank from, o'er and o'er Adieu, ye glades of Paradise 1 For such, in sooth, ye were to me ; I go where I would ever be — To kiss the grave wherein she lies. THE RAINBOW'S SECRET. MpJHE sky is dark with sullen clouds : \S\f\ The fields are sad with rain ; ^■^ When breaks a light behind the hills And shines upon the plain. And eyes that seldom look above Are lifted up on high, With hope's old heart-beats to behold A rainbow in the sky. A relic of less doubting days — In childhood we were told, 47 That where the rainbow touched the earth There lay a key of gold ; And if one reached the radiant spot, To him it should be given To find the key which would unlock The very gate of heaven. Heaven touches earth on ever)- side, We say — and this to see ! Where'er we stand the rainbow rests, And we iave found the key. ISA Craig. ' O W that poor Lizzie's dead, It's not the same place ; ^ We're all as dull as lead, For want of her face — We sit all day and stitch For the gay and for the rich, But the workshop seems so dreary, And our stitching makes us weary. And no laughing jest is told. Now Lizzie's cold ! Poor Liz! she'd lovely eyes, They were large and bright, And beamed like two blue skies With a tender light. And her hair was fine as silk, And her teeth as white as milk, And her pleasant merry laughter Woke the room from floor to rafter- But all this does seem so old Now Lizzie's cold! She used to keep us girls In a constant grin ; Why, a shake of her curls Would make us begin. And when Madam's back was turned, How she brightened, flushed and burned, As she slipped on with a titter Some fine dress that wouldn't fit her, 'iVIidst our laughter loud and bold — And now she's cold ! She'd a wonderful art Of mimicking too. And there wasn't a part That Liz couldn't do. If she chanced to hear the play. We were sure to have next day A treat of the things she'd seen there. Just as good as though we'd been there. So well was her story told — And now she's cold ! 48 Old Madam stiff and prim, And as hard as flint ; Her face grown pinched and grim, With scraping and stint — Even she would sometimes thaw At the merry sights she saw ; For poor Lizzie was endearing, And her ways were soft and cheering. In the pleasant days of old, Ere she grew cold ! The whole time she was here. Not a harsh word passed ; She was our petted dear Up to the last. For it's sweet to be with one Who is bright and full of fun ; Most girls are so uninviting, So jealous, and so backbiting, But Liz was as good as gold — And now she's cold ! For she was weak and slight. With a dehcate chest ; Her cough grew worse each night, And gave her no rest ; And the cruel winter sleet, Pouring down upon the street, With its grip of iron shook her — Till the angels came and took her To their peaceful distant fold. And she grew cold! Yes, now poor Lizzie's dead It's not the same place ; We're all as dull as lead For want of her face. But as we sit and stitch, For the gay and for the rich. There resounds an angels' chorus. And rising in grace before us Sweet Liz comes as of old, No longer cold! Reginald Barnett. SLEEP ! y^LEEP! Sleep! V^i) Sleep, my dearie, sleep, and dream ! Roaming where roses are rife, To sweeten the tear-fed stream That waters the tree of life ; Take thou my song for a boat, And sail on my voice for a sea ; There let it wander, and float Where thou desirest to be. An thou fearest, lift thine eyes, For mine are thy guiding star To light thee where heaven lies Behind yon fiery bar. There laughing and clapping of hands, Bright angels with shining feet Run over the golden sand To greet thee, and meet thee, my sweet. Sleep ! Sleep ! When thou tirest for thy home, Weary for thy rest. Call love, and he shall come, And bear thee to his breast. So it is best. Mary Robinson. 49 A^.Tl \ \ Ta^ f ^ t-J WHEN THE SJMMER DAYS ARE DOx\E WHEN the summer days are done, And the seie leaves one by one Dubt to dust are falhng Patter, patter on the ground. In the ttoodlind gladts aiound \ ou ma\ hear the doleful sound V / Of their perpetual f illmg , y Falhng falhng night and day Into darkness and decay , ijfr While fiom withering branch and stem, "'%;^ Diop b> diop in grief for them, The pearly deus are falling C «^ When the summer da)s aie done, And the shadows one by one Over earth are creeping, 'CS^A^ Shadows of November gloom, "^^ Shadows of the pale flowers' doom, ■ Gathered in untimely tomb, O'er the bleak hills creeping Clammy fingers of decay Close around us night and day, '\^ And athwart the dreary dale. Shrilly sounds the piercing gale '53.5 Of winter nearer creeping. "^S,^ J. H. Davies. "*.9l^^"'^ fJ i77-r-»?«- 'p',. ■ r.f' r'fi^' ^-^i GRIEVING. ^1 't^ .i> >»i> b^\ y^^ HE sat and watched the hght of day y^?) Over the blue hills fading slow, ^^ And listened to the wind that wailed In crooning voice of long ago. The fire upon the hearth burned dim ; Out came night-shadows weird and wild ; And dead leaves swept across the path, Where once the blooming roses smiled. No word she spake, but silent sat As white and still as sculptured stone ; The living, breathing world around A sepulchre had sudden grown, In which her buried life was laid, And over-writ this epitaph : " Alas ! how soon man's fondest hopes Are scattered to the wind as chaff." The clouds rolled o'er the misty moon ; In gentle sobs the raindrops spoke ; Fell drop by drop the maiden's tears ; And answering sobs the stillness broke. And through the wakening throbs of pain She found the living world once more ; But sun and moon and stars had changed, And shone upon a foreign shore. Life's river ebbed in turbid waves. That late had sparkled at her feet ; A jarred note rang through every chord That until now had sounded sweet ; And in a darkened world her steps Must wander, till her weary ^ soul, Through sorrow gaining strength, shall win For her a fadeless aureole. Julia Goddard. UNDER THE MISTLETOE. 'EARS ago I loved a maiden With a boy's love pure and true ; We as children played together, Grief and joy in common knew ; And my love was bright and winsome, Dearer than all else to me, Merry face with sunshine smiling, Roguish eyes poor me beguiling — Laughter-loving Rosalie ! 54 Years fled by, and one dark winter Cast a shadow o'er our joy. For it brought a day of parting. When 1 was no more a boy ; And my heart with grief was heavy But my child-love shed no tears. Only leading where close-twinmg Mistletoe above was shining. There she kissed away my fears. Once again to home returning After many a struggling year, Stand I 'neatli the well-known portal Half in liope and half in fear. What I is this shy blushing maiden She I left long years ago— She who led me smiling brightly, Lifted up her young f;\ce lightly, Kissed me 'ncath the mistletoe? What is this her arms encircle? Mistletoe and holly bright ! Onion this that seems to tell me She has ne'er forgot that night ! So, with glad hope strong within me, To her side I softly go. Pluck a green twig from her slily, Lift her sweet face blushing shyly, Kiss her 'ncath the mistletoe. G. W. CONFESSION. '^C^. Y love is like a rose that grows iWijV Low down, and hid where no one knows ; A rose that blossoms on the tree Where those that look will never see. My love is like a star at night Among a thousand stars of light ; A single star that shines for me, When those who look will never see. And like the star, and like the rose, My love is mine and no one knows ; And bright with light and beauty, she Is sweet alone, and sweet for me. 55 A REFLECTION. ■ilp-^^ROM yon high shore tJrKr The cedar that salutes the morning sun, '-^->^ And views some vessel far as sight can reach, Whose sails have felt the tempest, and whose sides Vibrated to remotest ocean's roar — Reflects in some clear shallow by the beach its tufted roof of autumn gold, whereon 56 Sidelong the gentle sea-wind bends, and plays Under its listening leafy ears, and soon Returns with some fresh fancy, which the rays Upon the simple surface mirror below ; Until the western chasm grows blank, and slow From the sad sea-line, murmurous with the flow Of the night's rising tide, comes the calm moon. T. C. Irwin. ERE THE NIGHT. ff LOOK out across the waters If To the gold and crimson west, 5^ Where the regal sun is drawing Evening's veil before his breast ; Ere, with kindly care for mortals Who are weary and o'erwom, He permits night's dusky portals To close o'er him until morn ; And I gaze upon his glory Till I feel no more forlorn. 57 I had been o'ertried and driven Ere I brought my boat to shore, For the wind had been untoward, And the current mocked my oar ; But the baffling breeze tore past me, Cheering zephyrs glassed the tide, And ere evening's shades o'ercast me I have touched the hither side. And in yonder sunset glory I see hope re-typified. Isabella Banks. 58 THE LOVE-LETTER. i MAIDEN with the sunny eyes, In which the j^Iad hght's beaming^, While many a varying sunbeam Mies Across thy bright face gleaming ! Why stand yon on the old oak stair, While morning sunlight's glancing On snowy breast and golden hair. And o'er thy rich dress dancing? What do you there, with stealthy tread So slily onward gliding, Half turning round in gleeful dread, The panelled oak back sliding ? What seek you in the wainscot there, Your little hand round creeping ? Take care, take care, O maiden fair. Lest some one should be peeping ! The glad light in your face tells plain You've found what you were seeking ; Then push the panel back again — Hark ! hark ! The old oak's creaking ! There's a step upon the stairs close by ! Quick, now, O joyous maiden, And far from danger swiftly fly, With Love's fond missive laden ! Ah, Love ! you've been at work again — One never finds you sleeping ; And they will only watch in vain Who guard 'gainst thee are keeping ! But better so — for without thee All would in life grow weary ; Without the sun the changeless sea Would soon be sad and dreary ! When we ourselves arc happy, 'Tis easy to forget The cheerless lives around us, The work before us set ! Yet how enjoy the pleasures That make up summer's crown While thousands of our brothers Are pining in the town ■" Shame on us if we do it ' Shame on us all for a) e ' Oh surel) \\ e can give them Out summer holiday ' One glimpse of bounteous nature, Of bird and fio \ er and tree , One day of health) breezes, One day beside the sea. G. Weatherly. It SOME OTHER DAY. iOLINETTE and Colin stand By the mill-side, hand in hand ; He is asking, fond and fain, When she'll meet him there again ; But vainly still to read he tries Answer in her merry eyes ; Colinette will only say, " Some other day ! Some other day ! " Pleading with a lover's power That she'll fix the very hour ; But Colinette will only say, " Some other day ! Some other day ! " " Some other day, sweetheart," says he, " Very far away may be ! " "By the same rule, Colin dear. It may be also very near ! " 62 Some other day came very soon — Came, in fact, before next noon ; Words forgot their fixed intent. " Every day " her answer meant. But, for love of eolden days, Colinette ne'er changed her phrase ; At parting she would always say, " Some other day ! Some other day ! " F. E. Weatherly. THE LAKE OF DREAMS, COOPED from abed of living stone > Hy glaciers' might when Time was yoimg, Ere man's intrusive step was known, A mystic beauty o'er ihcc hung, Not seldom fanned by slumber's breath, In fairy lands, as morning sighed, Entranced I saw the rose-hued heath Bend down to kiss thy playful tide ; Sweet lake ! still sleep'st thou lucid, grand, While those old mountains watchful stand. Thy mimic waves I loved to cleave With eager arm, and lured thy trout ; Or doth bewildering fancy weave Her spells my longing eyes to fiout ? How oft, too, 'mid thy sunset glow, Idly my shallop's sail would blow 1 63 And heard, across thy lonely moor The dog bark by the shepherd's door. Sleep, tranquil lake ! earth's troublous showers Disturb not thee ; thy far-spread gleam Irradiates our working hours, And cheers us with a kindred drearri. Too happy if thy type we find In sunny recollections shrined. A SONG OF THE HARVEST. tjp^IS harvest-tide, and a tremulous quiver j^JK Ripples across the broad seas of grain ; ^— ^ The breezes whisper the news to the river ; That harvest time has come again ! And the river, rapt in its secret, hushes, Then carries its tale to the swaying rushes, Who nod their heads in solemn pride ; But the listening birds that round them throng Break blithely forth in joyous song — " Hurrah for the ripe corn far and wide 1 Hurrah for the golden harvest-tide !" At eventide glad earnest voices Unite in chorus pure and strong : The weary son of toil rejoices. And the children join the har\'est song : Until when the ruddy sunset flushes Die out in the west, the chorus hushes, And a chant of praise for wants supplied Goes up to Him who gives the grain ; And then all hearts break forth again — " Thank God for the ripe corn far and wide ! Thank God for the joyous harvest-tide ' " 64 WHEN, ir^THEN we were boys and girls together, Playing out amongst the gorse, What thought we of wintry weather, Partings, changes, or remorse ? All before us bright and glowing, As we grouped upon the grass, Telling tales of fortunes growing For each buoyant lad or lass : Life was all a dream unbroken ; Love a word unwrit, unspoken. 66 When we were boys and girls together. What thought we of worldly ways ? Never lambs amongst the heather Had less dread of stormy days ; Sun, and stream, and birds above us. Filled us with their warmth and life ; We loved all things, all things loved us. Nothing boded future strife. When we spent our days together, Boys and girls 'mong gorse and heather. Isabella Banks. THE HOUR. OF REST. ^ ENEATH the green impleached trees, -J Beside the stream I pass ; I hear the bird upon the breeze, The breeze among the grass. What is thy song, O breeze ? O bird .-' O sweet bird, fi)ing to thy nest ? "Rest to th^ weary world, Rest : rest ! " Sleep soon, O world, thy rest is brief ! Sink soon, thou westering beam ! The stream is singing to the leaf, The leaf unto the stream. What is thy song, O leaf? O stream ? O grey stream flowing to the west ? " Rest to the weaiy world, Rest ! rest : " F. E. W. 67 A TEXT AMONG THE CRESSES. ^S^ TAR-LIKE honeysuckle trailing ^^^ O'er the fence in wreaths capricious, '"^-^ Summer breezes sailing, sailing, Idly by with breath delicious ; And a merry falling tinkle. Where the brook sweeps mossy ledges, And a sparkle, and a twinkle. Of the water 'neath the sedges. Aad a merry little maiden. With her tangled golden tresses, Standing barefoot there, all laden With a wealth of emerald cresses ; With her white feet in the water. Oh, so fresh and cool and pleasant ! And the green boughs arched athwart her. In a swinging, swaying crescent. And she sings, in rambling rhyming. Some child-lay of " Brown-haired Kitty,* While the brook is chiming, chiming, ,n With her sweet uneven ditty. ^«5 Little Nell, the blacksmith's daughter, I'et and pride of all the village, Paddling in the tinUliiig water. Cresses from its breast to pillage. But the artist, as he passes, List'ning to the baby measure. Crushing down the scented grasses With his strong foot, looks with pleasure, "Such a gem for sketch or painting 1 " Thinks he, as he gently pauses, And the song, descending, fainting. Dies away in broken clauses. Then the golden locks are shaken, And the treasured pebbles rattle. And the sketch is duly taken, 'Mid the lassie's mirth and prattle ; " Oh, who taught \-ou ? you are clever ! " (Sweet unconscious little preacher), " Will the picture last for ever ? Shall you give it to your teacher ? " Fortune, fame, the siniles of fashion, Crown the artist with successes, London ladies take a passion For the pictured child and cresses ; But he bows to Christ the Master, As he older grows, and richer. Ever hears, as praise falls faster, " Shall you give it to your teacher ? " All true art from God proceedeth, Yield thy first-fruits to His honour ; For thy soul with light He feedeth, Showers lo\'eliness upon her ; On this faith he reared his glory. And this brief text was his preacher, Till he died, renowned and hoary — " Shall you give it to your teacher ? " .^^.::- M. M. P. S-.V(S6* Sl'»'^ m 69 SAILED TO-NIGHT. ^VER the moonlit sea, Far away from Devon and me, My lover has sailed to-night !- And I may lie and weep, 70 Whilst my kindred are fast asleep, Such tears as are kept from sight — Weep, till my eye grows dim Underneath the reddening rim. For the love I drove away ; Weep with an aching brain, And a heart full of hidden pain, That must never see the day. The love I could not tell Lay deep in my heart as a well. Where I kept my secret hid ; And when he came I know. Though forehead and cheek were aglow, My lip was a closed lid. I could not cry aloud " I love you," for, oh, I was proud, As I thought a maid should be ; So when he came to woo. I bound up my roses with rue, — And /low, he's off o'er the sea. No wreck e'er cast ashore 'Mid the wind and the water's roar Could be such a wreck as I ; Lost on the reefs of pride. To be lashed by the chafing tide, Of memory till I die. Yet haply, after years, When I have out-wept youthful tears, My love may re-sweep the main : And then if he come to sue. He will find me tranquil, but true. And leave me never again. IS.^BELLA B.-iNKS. 71 THE REALMS OF THE DEEP. SEA SONG. j^STERN, the long white wake of foam Points backward to our island home, Ahead, the waste of waters wide Is still before us, all untried ; The merry ship a creature seems, Alive and full of joyous dreams — Dreams such as true love keep. Dreams glad as childhood's sleep. Then away with the breeze o'er the foaming seas, To the realms of the mighty deep. 72 Away, the West has purple seas, Wherein are mirrored slender trees, Wliich wave where man is ever free, And no proud despot's rule may be ; Where summer still eternal beams. And islands blessed are full of di-eams — Dreams such as flowers know, Dreams bright as sunset glow. Then away with the breeze o'er the foaming seas, To the land of the West we go. Away, the coral islands white Are brilliant in the morning light ; Smooth valleys rich with golden green, Long curves of yellow sand between, And misty snows of falling streams^ 73 ^^"ith towering mountains full of dreams- Dreams sweet as mother's kiss, Dreams filled with purest bliss. Then away with the breeze o'er the foaming seas. To the land which can promise this. F. H. H. IN A GARDEN. yJj^J"iiO loves fair flowers, And shady bowers And all the joys a garden brings, Knows sweet content And merriment Far more than happiest of kings. The whispering trees, The murmuring bees, Each flower that nods, each bird that sings. Are good friends sent With sweet content Unknown to happiest of kings. BLOSSOM AND FRUIT. T5) LOSSOM, blossom, sweet and fair, 1^ Blossom, blossom, everywhere ; ^"^ On the hill-side, in the dell : What the fruit ? ah, who can tell ? Blossom, blossom, sweet and fair, Blossom, blossom, everywhere, In the pride of youth and strength What the harvesting at length ' Blossom, blossom, sweet and fair, Blossom, blossom, every wheie. In life's early summer-time : What the fruit in manhood's ptmie ' 75 LONG AGO. fHE golden sunset's last faint ray ^^ Has faded out of sight ■; 'Midst lingering shadows of the day, ■ Comes on the « intr}' night ; The past events of early youth, Fond childhood's grief and glee, Shine forth again with \'ivid truth, Painted by Memory. I seem to pass through life again. To feel its hopes and fears, To taste once more the joy and pain Of well-nigh seventy years. And as I watch the blazing glow, I see myself stand there, Just as I was long years ago, »g When I was 5-oung and fair ; When one had whispered of his love. And blushes rosy-red Told plainly any words above The words I left unsaid. And then a happy joyous time Gleams forth from out the fire, And fancy weaves a merry chime From a far-distant spire — A merry chime of wedding-bells That floated on the breeze, And made sweet music in the dells, And whispered to the trees. Since then full many and many a year Has swiftly passed away, With many a sorrow, many a tear, And many a cloudy day ; And yet life's joyous sunny gleams Have oft shone golden-bright. And summer moming's gladd'ning beams Have followed each dark night. Ah, every scene of long-past days ! I see you all once more. In the fitful fire-light's dancing blaze In the shadows on the floor ! Oh, memories, fond and sweet to me 1 I hold you very dear. Like the notes of some soft melody Heard in a by-gone year 1 G. W. THE KING OF HEARTS. -yX[^ WIFTER than the swiftest eagle Vji£) Striking surely great and small, Cometh Love, the mighty master, Cometh Love to one and all ! Lightning flashes linger o'er him, All must bend and bow before him — Love the tyrant, the oppressor, Love, the king the wide world o'er. Love that holds us, and enfolds us In his grasp for evermore ! 80 Suddenly, without a warning, Like a sunbeam through the shade, Flasheth Love through hearts of mortals, Cometh Love to youth and maid ! None have any power o'er him, Proud and lowly bend before him — Love, the ever-welcome tyrant. Binding hearts the wide-world o'er ; Love that braves us and enslaves us, Love the king for evermore ! ^\¥K^^^^/, ■s^] mw^^ ^H'.- k^^' ^^^2yi^iJ /n.)^^ *^-