Class _:EA^M^.^ Book_ Copyright iN" COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. VERSES WRITTEN During a Busy Lawyer's Life BY WILLIAM TRIMBLE McCLINTICK 4 CHILLICOTHE, OHIO THE ALBERT SCROLL PRESS 1902 THE i.iShARY *F CGNGRcSS, Two COH-.fcS RtOEIVSB MAY. r 1902 j.CO»VRI««T ENTRY CLASS f*^XXo. No. % U 14' / » COPY B. I <(^ ^ X COPYRIGHT, 1902, By WILLIAM T. McCLINTICK. PREFACE The verses contained in this little volume were written, not in the leisure of an idle or pleasure-seeking existence, but at in- tervals during their author's long and active career as a lawyer and man of business — the latter half of it more than ordinarily occupied with engrossing work in both lines. They are now collected and arranged by him after his re- tirement from the more active enterprises of his life, and are published in book form at the request of his family, and only for private distribution among his friends. The verses were written at various times during a period of more than sixty years, and including, as they do, a variety of subjects, may be said to indicate, in some degree at least, their author's moods and the tenor of his thoughts at the times of their composition. To his family the greater part of these verses have been familiar, and it is hoped, that now in this collected form, they may be of interest to his friends. Chillicothe, Ohio, February ist, 1902. to my wife Elizabeth Mary Atwood McClintick, With whom I have journeyed for over fifty-six years, this volume is lovingly dedicated, by her husband. William T. McClintick CONTENTS 4 A Winter Scene ..... Autumn . .... Cleopatra (Dying) ... 6 Life . . . , . .13 On the Tops of the Alleghanies — at Evening . 1 5 Summer Friends at the Ocean Side . . 16 New Found Friends ... 17 The Adventure of a Night . . . 19 Lake George ..... 24 Rythm ..... 26 A Seashore Landscape, and Song ... 29 A Wife's Question and Answer . . 33 Human Glory . . . . '37 A Dream Within a Dream . . . 38 To a Friend ..... 41 To a Wife — After Absence . . 42 The Crescent Moon and Evening Star . . 43 Luray, Va. , at Evening and Its Caves . 44 The Bell Buoy's Lament . . .47 The Brooklet .... 50 The Little Lady . . . . 52 Human Life . , . . 54 Moonlight on the Sea . . . 55 CONTENTS— CONTINUED The Old Windmill at Nantucket 56 When My Ship Comes In 58 Thanksgiving 61 To My Wife 63 At Night by the Sea 64 An Evening Reverie 67 T'n Mi-" 70 72 X KJ iVJ loo • • • One Hundred Years To , on Her June Birthday 78 The Horizon's Bound 80 Sabbath Morn . 85 My Life .... 87 We are Content — Evening 88 A Mother's Joy 90 My Father . . . . 91 Farewell .... 93 Moonlight — in the Country 94 Toil .... 96 An Octogenarian's Prayer 97 A Day at Harbor Point, Mich., 99 An Old Man's Retrospect 101 At Eighty Years lOZ Little Traverse Bay 105 The Burial . . . . 107 Poppies .... 109 Loss of Sight no The Storm .... IIZ Our Golden Wedding 114 VERSES A WINTER SCENE 'TwAS cold and drear; for many a weary day The clouds had lowered o'er the frost bound earth; On fields and woods, on homes of men, no ray Of sunshine woke a song, or shout of mirth. But now, at eve, while nature sinks to rest, The bright sun lingers in the western sky. The drear earth smiles and with an eager zest. A blithe and joyous song sends up on high. We fancy summer's come again to wake To bloom and greenness, shrub and flower and leaf. Once more to garnish earth so cold, and make It smile, as if there were no room for grief. 2 A WINTER SCENE Yon tall old tree reflecteth smiles as sweet, Yon rill laughs on as merry and as gay, As when in spring the lark flew up to meet The morn, and warble forth his matin lay. How strange the scene outspread before us now! This episode in winter's cheerless lay; 'Tis like a gem upon an Ethiope's brow. Or like a smile on sorrow's face at play. We would not wonder at the darkened sky. The angry howling of the cold northwest, For these are winter's; but on this the eye As by a spell entranced, doth lingering rest. *Tis so deceiving e'en the birds that hide In some warm corner when the cold winds blow. Now venture forth on wing so long untried To bathe their plumage in the sunset glow. A WINTER SCENE 3 List to their warbling, like an angel's tone It falleth softly on the enchanted ear, Sweet as the melodies that we have known In nightly dreams of Heaven's eternal year. The light hath faded, and the gathering night Her curtain o'er this lovely scene hath spread: But see! on high, unutterably bright. The stars their lovelier, purer, radiance shed. So may the day, the one that is our last. Close as serenely and as bright as this; And as death's dreary darkness gathers fast May gleams of light portend celestial bliss. Chillicothe, Ohio, January, 1840. AUTUMN Ah! the dreamy languor of these autumnal days, That gathers o'er the spirit as o'er the hills the haze; A weight that is not heavy, a gloom without a cloud, As if the air in solemn prayer upon the earth were bowed; A something wierd and holy, impalpable and dim Like the sound of far off music, or chaunt of funeral hymn. The air is still, across the fields I hear, it is so still. The distant brooklets murmur, and the grinding of the mill. More near, the hum of bees, and strange, as if apart. With seeming sense of farness, the beating of my heart: O dear! what longings hold me, yet what delicious calm. As if with sore disturbance, there came a soothing balm. AUTUMN 5 All things near seem distant, the distant seems so near, The puzzle is to tell which is the there, or here: As well to time, as space, the pleasing witchery- spreads. And past time o'er the present its melancholy sheds A strange untold confusion doth fill the dizzy- brain With sweet and bitter fancies, a mingled joy and pain. Amid the silence of the trees there floats a leaf of gold: What parted it from parent stem, not any voice hath told. And while I watch its fall, another and another. Doth follow, leaf by leaf, to join their elder brother. In sweet companionship they fall, in circHng lines and slow. And gently rest upon the breast of mother earth below. Chillicothe, Ohio, October, 1856. CLEOPATRA (Dying) " Shall they hold me up And show me to the shouting varletry Of Centuring Rome ? Hast thou the worm of Nilus there That kills and pains not ? 'T^ '1^ -K 'T^ 'l^ 'l^ Give me my robe. — Put on my crown: I have Immortal longings in me. Methinks I hear Anthony call." — Shakespeare. Bring my crown and royal vestments, Clothe me as on days of state, When Mark Anthony beside me Stood the seeming Lord of fate. When he 'gainst Octavius Caesar Bold defiance proudly hurled. When his strong right arm, uplifted, Blanched the cheek of half the world. CLEOPATRA (Dying) When he gave me states for dowry, Nor thought the gift was half my due; Phoenicia, Cyprus, Coelosyria, Garnishing my crown anew: When, in softer mood, he lavished Words of adoration sweet; Telling of his soul's devotion, Making woman's bliss complete. When, together at the banquet. Quaffing Rome's Falernian wine; With his burning eyes, resplendent. Gazing fondly into mine: Mine more fond, his gaze returning, Striving vainly to express Love's unconquerable passion. Voiceless, in its tenderness. Or, the banquet ended, hastening From its blaze of garish light. Walked we 'mid my palace gardens, Curtained by the wondrous night; Night, transparent, grandly glorious, Such as Egypt only knows; With the star-escorted Dian, Mirrored in the Nile's repose. CLEOPATRA (Dying) Then, upon my own proud galley, Yielding to the wave's caress; Charmed and ravished by the splendor Of the night's deep loveliness: Silent wrought the stalwart oarsmen. Silent shone the stars above. While the rippling water's music Rhymed the story of his love. All forgot the world's illusions. And the wideness of my fame. While I leaned upon his bosom, Heard him softly breathe my name. Egypt's queen, but queen no longer Of the realm within my breast. There, my Lord, held sway divinely, King was he of all possessed. But no more he bendeth o'er me. Calling me his star-eyed one; I am left in desolation. Fortune, kingdom, lover gone; Doomed to meet the wronged Octavia, In her Lord's deserted home; Doomed to swell the Caesar's triumph. Through the streets of regal Rome. CLEOPATRA (Dying) Shall the Caesar's base-born varlets, Shouting o'er me, mock my woe ? All the queenly blood within me, All the woman, answers, no ! Bring the worm of Nilus to me, Let it strike its painless blow. Marring neither form nor feature; Haste! Why wait I? Let me go. Thus with crown and jewels on me, Proudly as befits a queen, I shall leave my realm terrestial For the fairer realms unseen. 1 shall join the grand Triumvir, Spring exultant to his side; With him trace the plain Elysian, In immortal bliss abide. Mine own hand the Aspic grasping, Bears it to my swelling breast; Now, its subtle power thrills me. Now, my weary heart shall rest. I sleep ! But no ! 'Tis Anthony ! Hark ! His clarion voice again ! Kiss me, Charmian, I am going, I shall wear no captive's chain. Chillicothe, Ohio, 1858. Note — It is proper to state that the foregoing was suggested by that charming piece of verse, written by General Wm. H. Lytle, of Cincinnati, published in the Cincinnati Commercial in July, 1858, and subsequently many times, in many papers of the country, entitled: "ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA" And running thus: "1 AM dying, Egypt, dying!" Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast. And the dark Plutonian shadows Gather on the evening blast; Let thine arms, O queen, enfold me. Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear. Listen to the great heart secrets Thou, and thou alone, must hear. Though my scarred and veteran legions Bear their eagles high no more. And my wrecked and scattered galleys Strew dark Actium's fatal shore; Though no glittering guards surround me. Prompt to do their master's will, I must perish like a Roman, Die the great Triumver still. ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA Let not Cssar's servile minions. Mock the lion thus laid low; 'Twas no foeman's arm that felled him, 'Twas his own that struck the blow — His who, pillowed on thy bosom. Turned aside from glory's ray — His who, drunk with thy caresses. Madly threw a world away. Should the base plebeian rabble Dare assail my name at Rome, Where the noble spouse, Octavia, Weeps within her widowed home. Seek her; say the gods bear witness, — Altars, augurs, circling wings, — That her blood, with mine commingled, Yet shall mount the thrones of kings. And for thee, star-eyed Egyptian — Glorious sorceress of the Nile! Light the path to Stygian horrors With the splendors of thy smile; Give the Cassar crowns and arches. Let his brow the laurel twine, I can scorn the senate's triumphs. Triumphing in love like thine. 12 ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA "I am dying, Egypt, dying;" Hark! the insulting foeman's cry; They are coming; quick, my falchion! Let me front them ere I die. Ah, no more amid the batde Shall my heart exulting swell; Isis and Osiris guard thee — Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!" Shortly after the first appearance of these verses, in 1858, 1 wrote my own verses, "Cleopatra (Dying)" — which I trust may not be considered an unfit companion for those of General Lytle. W. T. McC. LIFE Springing from the darksome mountain Sparkling as the diamond bright, Leaps the tiny streamlet onward Laughing in its wild delight: So, our childhood bright and joyous. Reckless of the coming strife, Jewelled as the dewey morning, Boundeth toward the sea of life. Now the brooklet through the meadows Murmurs to the zephyr's sigh. Till some frowning rock obstructs it. When it proudly dashes by; So our earlier youth proceedeth 'Mid the pleasant ways of men. Still serenely, 'til some barrier Wakes its brief, yet proud disdain. 1 4 LIFE Rippling o'er the beaten roadway Where the wheel and hoof abound, Or polluted by the drainage Of some dark and marshy ground; Sometimes ponderous mill-wheels turning, Then again in calm repose Ever onward toward the ocean Deeper still the river flows. So maturer years shall find us Broken, soiled, yet pressing on. Hoping, fearing, struggling, toiling, Duty's mill-work never done; Yet the soul with anxious longing, Rests not mid the daily strife 'Til the golden gates of heaven, Shut us in to endless life. Chillicothe, Ohio, March 25, 1 86 1. ON THE TOPS OF THE ALLEGHE- NIES— AT EVENING. These mountain tops that in the distant view Are summits tall that pierce the skies deep blue, Here lie in slopes, or undulations low. Where fall the shadows which the clouds bestow, Masses of darkness sinking down to rest And spreading pall-like o'er the forest's breast; The slanting sunshine lights awhile the scene. Then slowly disappears, and so, serene. The noisy day is hushed to silent night. And slumber wraps alike the glade and height. Thus, in our life, drear steeps before us rise That seem to close our pathway to the skies; Yet bold, by struggling, we their heights ascend To find our toils 'mid restful valleys end: The peace of God, the joy that heaven bestows Falls on the soul and stills it to repose; Here rest my weary feet, earth-stained and sore. And gloomy fancy raise thy wand no more. Deer Park, Md., August 31, 1875. SUMMER FRIENDS, AT THE OCEAN SIDE Our new-met friends — they come, they go, Like fitful dreams of summer's night; With radiant joy their faces glow, Our hearts respond with glad delight: With morn, the fitful vision ends, With morn there comes th' accustomed lot; So pass away our summer friends, Alike forgetting and forgot. But as in dreams some forms are seen That linger with the opening day To link our souls with what has been And drive life's weariness away. So when we leave this ocean shore And break this dream of summer rest, Shall we not bear for evermore Some imprint deep within the breast; Some memory ne'er to be eflfaced 'Mid all the changes time shall bring; Some record on the spirit traced. Emblem of life's eternal spring. Atlantic City, August, 1876. NEW FOUND FRIENDS We dwell, brief time, mid mountain heights, And then, where phosphorescent lights Dance o'er the moonlit sea; And everywhere new faces bright Do greet us with a friendly light, And cordial sympathy. They come, they go — how swift, alas ! The faces, like sweet visions, pass As if no more to bless; Our lives move on, our earth-born lot Seems still the same, and only fraught With labor and distress. But as in dreams — some forms remain When night is gone to ease the pain That comes wiih opening day. So when our summer's rest is o'er. And from the mountain, or the shore, We take our homeward way, 1 8 NEW FOUND FRIENDS Shall not some dear remembered face, Some charmed word — some special grace. That marked love's wakening — Go with us still, and new found friends Be ours, till e'en life's journey ends, Of joy, the constant spring ? August, 1876 THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT. One night three guests a rest had found In famous New York town; At Hotel Brunswick they were lodged, A house of wide renown. 'Twas after midnight's dreary hour These guests to bed repaired. And soon a sleep, profoundly deep, Their weary bodies shared. To man and wife one room was given, Of ample size I ween; The friend, a neighboring chamber held, With opening door between. The triple gods that rule the night, Nox, Somnus, Morpheus, all Conspired to seal their heavy eyes In slumber's darkest pall. 20 THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT Alas! that joy so soon should fly! For at their window pane It seemed a furious maniac stood Who swore with might and main. Up jumped the husband, quick as thought, With night shirt only on, And to the window bravely ran; But there before him drawn. He saw, or seemed to see, himself In attitude for fight; Weight matched with weight, and shirt with shirt. The garment of the night. But when he heard the frightful oaths That issued from without, He caught the sash and held it down, And turned his face about. "Run for your life, dear wife," he cried ("It is a maniac tall") "Into our neighbors room, be quick! While I the watchman call." THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT : Forthwith she ran, as she was told, The neighbor now was dazed By such a sight, as half awake He still in wonder gazed. But she with native modesty Held forth her fair white hands, And said, "pray me excuse, I come Because my Lord commands." But soon she turned, "Oh, pray," she said, "There comes that horrid man Right through your open window wide," And then, in fright, she ran Behind the bed, where shivering In agony of dread. She hid behind a pillow soft. Held high above her head. The friend thus sought at once rushed forth To meet the fearful foe; But at the window stopped to think What he, poor man ! could do. THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT For he like all the rest was clad In Georgia costume spare, Without the spurs: an unfit dress, For ladies' eyes to share. But little time for thought had he As fierce the maniac glared With blood-shot eyes and hands up-raised; You'd thought our friend was scared. A lawyer was he, so he used His wits on this occasion, And as no weapon could be found, He thought he'd try persuasion. "My friend," said he, "don't try to come With your unfriendly face And half-dressed form, for ladies are Within this sacred place." "What ladies ?" shrieked the man, in haste. Our friend was in a mix; What answer could he make, indeed In such a devilish fix ? THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT 23 He could not say, his wife^ for sooth, For that would not be true. And yet to tell the unvarnished truth He thought would never do. But luck was on his side; the man Another question raised, "My good friend, Bishop, are you here Oh let the Lord be praised !" The watchman came, and by his aid The man's own room was found; Where sitting down he seemed to wake From drunken sleep profound. And then, at first, in careless mood, "Why all this fuss ?" he said; But soon, o'erwhelmed, he turned again, With shame unto his bed. The dame unto her lord returned, The friend laid down to rest; And soon, in sleep, all thought of harm Was gone from ev'ry breast. New York, 1877. LAKE GEORGE I float among thy hundred Isles, I see thy wavelets break in smiles Along thy curving shore; About thy sides tall mountains rise, Beneath thy waters arching skies Are mirrored ever-more. I sit on calm Mohican pier; Around me, or remote, or near. Familiar objects lie; Green Island, Dome, Recluse, and Clay, Th' encircling shores of Nor' West Bay, Successive, meet the eye: Beyond, old Black Top rears his head, While Shelving Rock, as if in dread, Lies prone beneath his feet; More near. Tongue Mountain stretches long And slakes his thirst amid the throng Of limpid waters sweet. LAKE GEORGE zj And south, with woods and rocks embossed, The hills are in the distance lost, Dim with enshrouding haze: Between, the waters, dark, or bright, Uneasy with a fitful light As cloud, or sunshine, stays. Amid such scenes I can but dream. The past and present strangely seem To be nor here, nor there; Entranced I lie beneath the trees And listen to the whispering breeze Indite its silent prayer. A prayer for all whose lives repeat In winter's cold and summer's heat The same dull round of care In cities, from the world shut in. To hear alone the noise and din Of labor everywhere. For these I crave the priv'lege rare Which nature here, on lake, in air. And land, doth give so plenteously What more, indeed, can heart desire Than morning brings, or sunset's fire, To all with eyes to see. Lake George, August, 1879. RYTHM Nature loves a rythmic motion; From the fields of waving grain To the wild tumultuous ocean, Moaning with its ceaseless pain: From the bird, with spreading pinion Floating 'neath the summer sky, To the waving forest's branches As the winds among them sigh. All of nature's voices vary With a sort of rythmic flow. From the thunder's fierce vagary To the zephyr's breathing low. Not a sound but keepeth measure With the throbbing human breast, Whether pain, or whether pleasure. Be the sad or welcome guest. RYTHM 27 'Mid the shade of verdant forests Where the brooklet sings its song Over rocks, or pebbly bottoms, Still the measure floats along; Air and water, break together In alternate waves of sound 'Tis the lullaby of nature By her weary children found. List the music, softer, lower, Near by, yet so distant seeming; Coming, going, faster, slower, As if my soul were dreaming; Hear the sound of dancing feet Unto the measure gliding; List the strain, so low and sweet — 'Tis in my ear abiding. All things through the circling ages With a varying motion flit. Backward, forward, so the pages Of our changeful lives are writ. Nature, patient, like a mother. Strives with song to soothe the pain Of our struggling souls endeavor Something better to obtain. 28 RYTHM Grandly solemn is the measure When the silence of the night Swings its tremulous pendulum O'er the world of vanished light; Swings from ocean back to ocean, With its center in the stars. Who can span the vast vibration ? Who can mark its wondrous bars ? Over cities, mountains, valleys. O'er the wideness of the sea. O'er the busy noisy nations, Voiceless in its majesty ! Voiceless, to our outward hearing Yet the spirit's subtlety With its inward ear may hear it Syllable "eternity." Cincinnati, 1880. A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, AND SONG I SIT on Cape Arundel's rocks to view The landscape old, and yet 'tis ever new; The seething waters ceaseless madly pour Their white capped breakers on the unyielding shore. Afar, the mountains clad in vesture gray Sleep in the shadows of the closing day. Save where the sun its westering pathway treads And over all a golden glory spreads. Near by, Old Agamenticus serene. Rears his long form amid his fetters green; There, the Three Sisters, lift their towering crests, Here, the wide plain in summer brightness rests, While arching all, the lambent clouds expand To join the changeful sky, to steadfast land. In one long sweep the curving bay extends Lit with the splendor which the sunset lends; The clouds, the sea, the land, are all aglow With wondrous beauty, and the radiant show 30 A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, AND SONG Draws the dull soul from out this earth-born clod To claim its kinship with th' all loving God. Amid this scene I sit and dream alone, And bend my ear to hear th' eternal moan The sea gives forth, as if some grief profound, Like human woe, had sought relief in sound. The murm'ring waves bring to my weary breast, A sense of fellowship and blissful rest. I left mine eyes, — a home returning sail Spreads its fair bosom to the favoring gale. The tossing waves with multitud'nous voice, Cry to the saddened soul, Rejoice 1 Rejoice ! Earth is so beautiful and love so strong The weariest heart can but respond in song. Again, I lift mine eyes — the sheltered bay Hath lost the brightness of the earlier day: The cold gray waters slumber peacefully. As if the tide itself had ceased to be. Before me floats a boat — its oars up-held. But motionless — their upward stay compelled By some strange charm. Within, two forms are bent. One toward the other leaning, each intent On other, — lost to all besides. I sing This song to them, and thus my tribute bring: A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, AND SONG 31 Rock gently boat, on bay serene, The youth and maiden dimly seen Within thy narrow bound. Oh lazy oars, expectant, wait. As these two weave the web of fate In love's mysterious round. From heart to heart the thread speeds on. These two, indissolubly, one. Whatever else may sever; For life, for death ! Oh joy untold ! What treasures shall their lives unfold 'Tis "mine and thine" forever. The sight long vanished visions bring. As memory backward strikes its wing Athwart the years long gone. In slow procession strange and bright. They come, in warmer, lovelier light Than marked the setting sun. All the dear forms that blest my youth With hope and counsel, love and truth. Are with me once again. Forgot the load I daily bear, The heavy cross, the carking care. The long dark years of pain. 32 A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, AND SONG One fair, sweet face, so loving sweet, One angel form whose dainty feet Scarce seem to touch the land. With out-stretched arms, up-lifted eyes Calls me away, — with glad surprise I touch her beckoning hand. Alas ! that touch dissolves the charm. Gone is the face, and out-stretched arm: Back to the earth I fall. Soul, bide thy time, — 'tis not for thee Amid the fight to turn and flee Wait th' Omniscient's call. Till then, my soul, uphold the right, Against all evil strike with might. Until the victory's won: But night is here, yon dripping oar Strikes boldy for the dark'ning shore, My sweet, sad dream is done. Kinnebunkport, Maine, August 6th, 1883. A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER A husband and wife whose children had grown up and separated from them, were left to complete the journey of life together. The thought of death came to them as it comes to all. They knew that in the ordinary course of nature one would die first. In reading their daily lesson from the Scriptures the wife was impressed by the words, "one shall be taken and the other left," when she asked and answered: Which shall it be ? Let it be me: I fain would be the first to stand Within the dim and shadowy land That lies before; To find some island of the blest, Some spot where loving souls may rest — And part no more. Within that home by Him prepared; For all who here His image shared; Dear precious boon ! I'll watch the opening of the gate, With glad anticipation wait Thy coming soon. 34 A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER A woman's faith is stronger far Than man's. Let me be guiding star, A beacon bright, To lure thee to our better home, Illume the path my steps have come With heaven's own light. Which shall it be ? It may be thee ! How could I live, and thou not here ? Thou, who, when sorrow caused the tear To dim mine eye, Didst stop its flow with soft caress And voice of gentlest tenderness; My lullaby. Life without thee ! accursed of fate ! The earth so cold, so desolate, My prayer would be A constant sigh to break the spell That binds me here, and go to dwell Once more with thee. A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER 35 So strong art thou. Hope unto thee Assures the palm of victory By conquering faith, 1, without thee, could only moan My saddened life, alone, — alone ! Wishing for death. Perchance, there yet is work for thee; Some soul to raise, some destiny As yet unknown; Some wrong to right, some slave to free, Some fight for country's liberty, The patriot's crown. Be mine the fate For thee to wait. No mortal vision yet hath seen The coming day, but faith takes in The landscape fair. Amid such skies I could not grieve; No earthly heart can e'er conceive How bright they are. 36 A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER When I was young and heart was strong My heaven was home, to it I clung With fond delight; If thou wert absent, I for thee Would watch and wait impatiently To greet thy sight. Once more I'll stand at heaven's gate In sweet expectancy — I'll wait To hear thy voice. Assured thy coming can't be far. The gate will ever stand ajar — At this rejoice. In that fair land We both shall stand. Clothed in immortal youth, and bright With joy, where paths of holy light In bliss extend. Glad that our struggling and our sorrow Hath brought us both this sweet to-morrow That ne'er shall end. Cincinnati, O., April, 1884. HUMAN GLORY Pray what is human glory ? 'Tis to wield The magic wand, that stifles every cry: To stand on battle-ship or battle-field, And bid men die, nor ask the reason why. To know that men for us will do, or dare, Men, whom we know not, do not care to know But who for us will shout and rend the air. And fearless rush upon th' opposing foe. Warm Springs, Va., August, 1888. A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM Oh ! sleep with poppies strow mine eyes Their weary lids shut down; Fill all my frame with lethargies. Put on my head thy crown. If dreams shall come, as come they may. Make them of landscapes green, Where woods and meadows, lambs at play, And running streams are seen. Thus wishing, — softly came a lull Upon my wakeful mind; I seemed to sleep, so calm and full, My thoughts, — they wandered uncon- fined. A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM 39 I saw tall mountains far appear And in the distance glow With sunset hues so bright and clear Amid their tops of snow. In middle distance placed, — a mill, So old, one feared to tread Its floors, — its grinding wheels were still: The miller, long since dead. And in the foreground, seemed to be A vine-clad cottage sweet; With children full of mirth and glee About their mother's feet. She sat outside the cottage door And waited (while she sings) Her husband's coming, and the store Of joy his presence brings. Near by, a streamlet's waters fed By unseen springs and clear, Was rippling o'er its pebbly bed, — It ravished my dull ear. 40 A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM And while I gazed upon this scene And drank its spirit deep, The sunset faded — all serene And darkness gave me sleep. It was a dream — within a dream, It brought relief from pain: From it I woke with morning's beam. Refreshed and strong again. Albion Place, Feb. 7th, 1889. TO A FRIEND To one true heart, my love I gave, Forever there to stay: My troth I've kept, not as a slave But as a true man may. But friendship hath a wider bound To add to life new zest. There, some choice spirits I have found And you — among the best. TO A WIFE— AFTER ABSENCE O JOY ! to meet thee once again, To clasp thy hand in mine, Once more to feel surcease of pain Beneath that smile of thine. Once more to hear thy voice; to see The light of thy dear eyes; To be alone, once more, with thee, — This, this is paradise. 1889 THE CRESCENT MOON AND EVENING STAR Upon the lake we lie spell-bound; The night with beauty rare Bedecks the earth; nor voice nor sound Disturbs the breathless air. Our oars are still, and silence reigns All o'er the water's breast, The stars from out the sky look down, The new moon skirts the west; And by its side the evening star Sits placid and serene; Nor can we say which of the two We'll choose for night's fair queen. Both sit supreme, enthroned on high, Both seem from earth so far, That either might the sovereign be. The crescent, or the star. Hot Springs, N. C, April agfh, 1889. LURAY, VA. AT EVENING AND ITS CAVES On Luray's hills there stands serene A charming modern inn, In Queen Anne style, and there I ween Sweet rest is found within. Beneath its tower, remote and near, A noble landscape lies; And over head, cloud-flecked, or clear, The opal colored skies. The Blue Ridge, eastward, lays its length Against a bank of cloud: And as the sun abates its strength. Puts on a purple shroud. LURAY, VA. AT EVENING AND ITS CAVES 45 The weakening sun, with lessened light, With steady pace declines. While Massanutten's wooded height In sun-set radiance shines. So fades the day, and comes the night With moon and stars o'er head; And mount and vale are clothed with light. In silver softness shed. We turn to meet another sight Within the cavern's maze; A thousand wonders strange and bright Entrance th' astonished gaze. Here stalactite and stalagmite Unite in wierd design. And grotesque forms, in snowy white. In light electric shine. Here reason cold asserts no claim. And fancy wild and keen. While giving every shape a name. Runs riot o'er the scene. 46 LURAY, VA. AT EVENING AND ITS CAVES Old Pluto, here his chasm holds: Titania's veil conceals Some shadowy form beneath its folds, Or only half reveals. Whate'er in classic lore we know, Whate'er in dreams we see, Here finds a form and seems to glow, With strange reality. And now we leave this wonderland And turn to earth again; O memory ! let thy faithful hand. Still keep the record plain Of what we saw at famed Luray: And blest, beyond compare. The eyes that there, by night or day. Take in the vision rare. September 1889. THE BELL BUOY'S LAMENT I TOLL for thousands drowned Out in the depths profound; I toll for thousands more Who sank near by the shore; In sight of out-stretched hand, With feet just touching th' sand, Almost saved, — but the tide Swept out, — alas ! they died. I toll for th' wrecks that be On th' coast of many a sea. Whose strong ribs bleached and white Gleam in the moon's wan light. While waves in frenzy roar Against the shelving shore. And o'er the timbers bare Break foaming in the air. 48 THE BELL BOUY'S LAMENT Above my watery bed Flit specters of the dead; As back and forth they go, My tongue with motion slow Doth strike my brazen rim To wake the funeral hymn I evermore must sing, Alike for slave and king. For sailors rough and bold, For merchants rich in gold; For youth and childhood fair, And age, all bent with care: For bridegroom and his bride. The matron in her pride: For all the lost at sea My sad lament must be. For all whose bones do sleep In th' bosom of the deep; Where coral reefs abound. Or sea-weed wraps them round. Where'er the drowned may be. In deep or shallow sea, For all my wail is heard. Clang ! clang ! so strange and wierd. THE BELL BUOY'S LAMENT 49 In th' dawn's uncertain light, In th' darkness of the night, In howHng storm or calm, Is heard my solemn psalm. Over the waves, my moan Floats like a dying groan. Woe ! woe ! is the dirge I sing As here I toss and swing. Watch Hill, R. I., July 31st. 1890. THE BROOKLET This brook that from a single spring Doth rise, and then flows murmuring O'er pebbled bed, amid the trees. Close sheltered from the louder breeze, Whose margin is with cresses spread With elm and hawthorn over head. Its own song sings, so loving sweet, I bend mine ear the sound to greet. And while I listen as I lean, From shaded wood to pastures green It goes, where here and there, a tree Shall shelter from the rain, or be On brighter days, a safe retreat At noon-tide hour, from sweltering heat; It finds its way, meandering slow. As if it knew not where to go. THE BROOKLET 51 At length it strikes a gallant oak One-half its roots have felt the stroke, And now exposed, denuded, bare, They struggle outward in the air, Above a basin small and round Where voice of singing brook is drowned; It eddys noiseless, 'round about, Then with a sigh it passes out. Again, it takes its tuneful note And wanders on to vales remote. It minds me of a song once set By Bryant's pen, "The Riverlet." Dear to my heart from youth to age Is that sweet song, I turn its page. And sigh to think the hour is near When I shall leave the haunts so dear, "And come for the last time to look Upon my childhood's favorite brook." September, 1890. THE LITTLE LADY (Mrs. McG.) I KNOW a little lady bright With something of celestial light; Her face arrayed in smiles, I see, Her motions graced with courtesy; Her eyes, the tint of skies serene, Her lips, the busiest ever seen. Start not, I pray, in vague alarm, For talking is her greatest charm. Some words that ripple from her tongue Are soft as those by Syrens sung — So winning that I turn my ear And wish that I might always hear; And some, with wit and humor shine. As polished gems from India's mine; THE LITTLE LADY (Mrs. McG.) 53 And some with sweet pathetic grace, With touch of pity in her face, Give comfort to the broken heart, And take from grief its bitter smart. But if you chance, by some ill fate T' incur this little woman's hate. Ah! who can tell the venomed spite That flashes from her eyes so bright, Or hisses in the words that fall Upon the head that roused her gall. Warm Sulphur Springs, Va., October, 1890. HUMAN LIKE O TANGLED thread of poverty and grief! O labyrinth of woe, without relief! Is there no hope ? but only wan despair, Perpetual struggle and eternal war ? Sad one be still. Give up the useless fight. Let Christ be heard, He says, "I am the light." Come sit and learn, be as a little child And hear the voice of Jesus reconciled. Thus hope shall rise within thy saddened breast, And joy shall come to be thy constant guest; Thy troubled heart with all the world at peace, Shall dwell with him in love, thy struggles cease. 1890. MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA The moonbeams stretch a glimmering track Of glory on the sea; The sea with smiles doth answer back In trembling ecstacy. The stars are few, a wide expanse Surrounds the queen of night; Beneath, the wavelets leap and dance A tournament of light. One influence sweet doth compass round Alike the heavens and sea Each clasping each, like lovers bound In speechless sympathy. 1890. THE OLD WINDMILL AT NANTUCKET A RICKETY, old and picturesque mill Yet stands on the top of Nantucket hill. Its four long arms which once whirled in the air Hang motionless now, as if bowed in despair. The long mast which stretched from th' top to the ground And there was made fast to a wheel that went round And was used to make the crown of the mill Revolve, thus catching the wind at its will, Whether northward, or southward, eastward or west. Still keeps its place, but the wheel is at rest. A pair of good grind stones, meant to replace The old ones, worn out, lie flat on their face, Idly and prone, with their iron-bound rim Once bright in the sun now rusty and dim. They will never be used. Alas ! for the day When the mill first showed the signs of decay. The owner was old, like th' mill, and as slow, The grist was small, the tolls meagerly low; THE OLD WINDMILL AT NANTUCKET 57 For year by year, less and less land was tilled. And new ways found by which pockets were filled. The old man bothered his slow working brain To find some way his lost tolls to regain. Meanwhile his isle unexpectedly rose To be famous for pleasure, or quiet repose; Some came to catch fish, and some came to sail. And some for their health; but all, without fail In passing the windmill lifted their eyes And gazed as if struck with sudden surprise. "I have it," the old man cried with delight, As one morn he waked from the dreams of th' night. "The mast shall still lift itself high in th' air, The long arms swing from its top grim and bare, The stones still lie on the ground, and I'll be A watch on tourists that visit the sea. The ruins a tribute shall bring to my store That shall equal the tolls I gathered of yore." From that day to this the gazers have found It is not grain, but themselves, that are ground. And the miller ! happy man, be his dole. Takes in their dimes as legitimate toll. Nantucket, R. I., 1 89 1. WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN We all have ships that are sailing Before some favoring breeze, Which gather from summer islands The riches of far-off seas. Brave hope is the jolly commander And fancy peoples the yards With a crew as skillful and stalwart As was ever sung by the bards. In the dark, as I lay dreaming, My ship I saw on the sea. With sails full set, and coming Right onward — coming to me. WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN 59 She's coming ! she's coming ! I know it For the winds are blowing my way, As I sit at the head of the harbor, To look out over the bay. She's laden with fruit from the tropics. And gold from Australia's sand, Rich silks from the looms of Europe, And fabrics from every land. What shall I do with the treasure My ship is bringing to me ? If 1 find a garner to hold it. Ah ! where shall I keep the key ? No nook but some thief may find it. No lock so cunningly formed That cannot be picked or broken; No castle that may not be stormed. Away with my fears so foolish, The treasure my ship doth bring Is not for hoarding, nor hiding. But to make the sad heart sing. 6o WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN The poor, that always are with us, The sick that languish in pain, The blind and the deaf and the dumb ones, Shall share all the pleasure I gain. But the ship! mine eyes have grown weary With watching out over the deep; Perhaps she'll come in the morning. Oh, weary eyes, rest now in sleep. Chillicothe, Ohio, i8q2. THANKSGIVING Give thanks! for friends of kindred taste True to the core — not double faced; Who do not see, or patient bear, The faults that somehow all must share. Give thanks ! for children and for wife That yet are spared to sweeten life; Whose faithful care and loving eyes Make home an earthly paradise. Give thanks ! for loved ones gone before To wean us from this earthly shore; To fix my heart, O joyful rest! On Christ, Redeemer, Savior, blest. 62 THANKSGIVING Give thanks ! for days that seem not old, Though three score years and ten are told; Which find in nature all the joy That once possessed the stalwart boy. Give thanks ! for eyes a little blind, Which see not slights, tho' ill designed; Nor note the frowns that on us fall — While love's sweet halo covers all. Give thanks ! for what St. Peter saw When fettered much by custom's law; That "great white sheet," as naught else can. Proclaims the brotherhood of man. Give thanks! for all the lessons taught. By our dear Lord, with mercy fraught. And in our lives, this truth be seen, "What God hath cleansed call not unclean." Thanksgiving Day, November, 1892. TO MY WIFE (with a diamond and sapphire ring) Full two score years and seven have gone Since on my hand, by thine, was placed A pledge of love's unbroken zone — Of joys to come, the glad foretaste. Within its magic circle writ. Two names were joined as if in one — My name and thine, an index fit To show the path we both have run. And now, dear one, another ring Where two rare stones serenely shine, With recollection fond I bring To grace the hand that gave me mine. The brighter stone doth emblem thee; The darker, my dear love, doth show; So may thy life the brighter be And my poor love the warmer glow. Christmas, 1892. AT NIGHT, BY THE SEA This grey and shimmering plain Beneath the pale moon's reign, Doth spread afar. Toward the horizon's rim Where stands remote and dim A seeming bar: A bar to straining sight That fain would pierce the night That lies beyond. But that far line of haze Responds not to my gaze, However fond. But still I know fair lands Are there. Brittania stands In might supreme. And Italy's fair skies Unbidden 'round me rise In beauteous dream. AT NIGHT, BY THE SEA 65 The Alpine heights I scale, Cities and States unveil; I see the Rhine, All that Childe-Harrold saw; And inspiration draw Almost divine. By the Danube and the Po, Maggiore and Como, I restless move; Geneva's lake is still, On it I float at will. And dream of love. The Isles of Greece, I greet. Where wavelets wash the feet Of Marathon. The groves where Plato walked. Mars Hill, where St. Paul talked; The Parthenon. All States in Europe lie Beneath my inward eye. And Asia stands Outstretched to reach the seas, Where sweeps the torrid breeze From Afric's sands. 66 AT NIGHT, BY THE SEA And over all the sky, 'An ocean hung on high.* The Pleiades Are there, as here, and glow With lustrious light, as tho' This side the seas. And Constellations rise Unknown to northern skies. Serenely bright The Southern Cross doth shine. Its sister stars combine T' enhance the sight. I sit and dream, and sings My soul, while fancy brings Before mine eye. The wealth of land and main, And joy, doth pour like rain From out the sky. Bay Head, N. J., September, 1893. AN EVENING REVERIE Betwixt the sea and narrow bay, Lies a low neck of barren sand. On which at eve I while away One brief, pale hour, by twilight spanned. I watch the distant mists down-shed Upon the horizon's circling rim; The nearer shadows, 'round me spread, Make all things seem remote and dim. White sands, mid herbage scant and low, Seem snow-drifts 'neath a wint'ry sky. While summer airs around me blow A softly murmuring lullaby. 68 AN EVENING REVERIE Here the sea's tides advance, retreat, With rise and fall forevermore, In endless prolongation beat Their wild tattoo upon the shore. And there the bay, in silence bides The coming of the western breeze. Unruffled by the gentle tides That mark its kinship with the seas. One lonely light, how like a star! Streams out from off an anchored bark. And throws its radiance from afar To meet my gaze. All else is dark. And over head, the stars we love, So firmly fixed, so mildly clear. In silent, slow procession move. As they have done from year to year. While thus I muse, I seem to stand Upon a narrow hand-breadth space; With youth and age on either hand. Whose bounds with tender eyes I trace. AN EVENING REVERIE 69 Once more, I feel with fancy's might The hopes that set my soul aflame, Ambitions, aspirations bright, The victor's crown, a deathless name. The vision fades; another light Dawns on my soul, and glim'ring far, Above the darkness of the night There shines a still serener star. And now I know this flight of years, Hath some remuneration brought. Through toil and pain, through hopes and fears, A store of ampler, loftier thought. And longings strong, unlike the old. To part full soon this earthly chain. To tread the blissful streets that hold The loved and lost, but found again. Bay Head, N. J., August, 1894. TO MISS (On Her Seventeenth Birthday) All hail the day that gave thee birth And names thee "Seventeen;" No words of mine express the worth Of thee, the day's fair queen. The woods put on a greener hue, The flowers a fragrance rare. The grass doth sparkle with the dew; O day! divinely fair. The waters show a deeper blue. The winds blow soft and free; Could Nature to itself be true. Without some gift to thee? TO MISS 71 The fairies come with unseen wings, From far across the sea To touch thy heart's pure quivering strings And wake its minstrelsy. Thy many friends a wreath entwine, To crown thy Hfe with joy; A wish — that all thy days may shine Like this, without alloy. Bay Head, N. J., 1895. ONE HUNDRED YEARS (The Pioneers' Arrival at Station Prairie, below Chillicothe, April ist, 1796) The sun awoke on that glad day with rays Effulgent. Early spring brought songs of praise From red-bud, dogwood, and the thousand flowers That grace the woods and prairie. Early showers Gave throb and impulse to the flowing stream; The distant hills, anew gave back the gleam Of sunshine, and sparkling dew, new born, Flashed forth a welcome to the coming morn. Near by, the prairie small, in beauty spread. So bright, it seemed by streams of splendor fed; A second Eden, with unstinted joy For these adventurous souls. Without alloy Their praise arose, as led by Finley's voice All hearts burst forth in song, "Rejoice! rejoice!" ONE HUNDRED YEARS 73 This first, and then the busy hands of men Thrust the rude plow beneath the grasses green, Upturned the sod upon the prairie's face And planted there the seed which grew apace And fruited large, one hundred fold and more; Thus plenty reigned on fair Scioto's shore. THE DAY WE CELEBRATE. One hundred years have passed and we have come With flying banners and the roll of drum To glorify our city's birth and give Honor to those who wrought, that we might live. We come to celebrate a time, not near. Nor yet remote, when men who knew no fear Left home and friends to tread the wilderness. Braving the crafty indian, and not less The hunger and the pain of loneliness. Pathfinders all, it seemed, and yet the first To fix the sites of cities; men who durst Indulge the dream of states made great by law And love of order; men without a flaw Where meanness could creep in and spoil The fabric reared by their hard-handed toil. Nor less, by large intelligence, the light Which shines afar and ever grows more bright 74 ONE HUNDRED YEARS As time whirls on. And we in wonder stand At what our fathers wrought for this fair land. Remote, yet near; for they our fathers were; And we, their sons, who now so richly share The gifts they gave us, still remember well Their forms and bearing; we their voices heard; From out their lips sped forth the loyal word For God and country. Shame be on us then, If v/e dare stint the honor due such men. 1 hey trod no beaten path. Their rifles woke The forest's silence. Their's the axe whose stroke Made forests fall, whose trunks together rolled Were changed by burning fires to earth's rich mold. Amid their stumps, the straight and narrow street Outlined the place for town or hamlet meet. On either hand rude cabins quickly rose For shelter from the storm and night's repose. Full soon the throng of emigration came To this new land, drawn hither by the fame Of fertile fields and wondrous growth of corn. And thus "a nation in a day was born," With laws and statutes, courts and men of mark, With plans and policies, not scheming, dark. But open as the day, and thus the state Grew strong in virtue and sublimely great. ONE HUNDRED YEARS 75 APRIL 1ST, 1896. One hundred years ! now gone ! let us repair Where westward hills, uprising in the air, Invite our coming, ere the early morn Hath brought full light upon the day new born. Beneath our feet the sleeping city lies, Hushed in repose; not yet the time to rise. The city sleeps, and all the valley sleeps, 'Tis well that peace, both town and country, keeps. At length pale verdure, with the opening day. Begins to show the early spring's array. The trees, on either side the street, from hill to hill Are marked with leaflets small, enough to fill The eye with sense of pleasure. The plain is full Of scattered groups of verdure, bright and cool. The trembling light a fascination feels As some strange ministry among it steals; The rising sun, an orb of splendor, comes In silence marching, without roll of drums Or voice, to tell its coming; upward still 76 ONE HUNDRED YEARS It moves, in strength; its own fierce will, Majestic and sublime, doth lift itself on high And gloomy night's dark shadows quickly fly. The busy hordes of men flock full the streets Beneath the hill. The valley wide, now meets The brilliant sun's warm rays, and shows content From its broad face upturned, in smiles now blent; The fields of wheat, from winter's cold set free. Meadows and pastures wide, o'er all the lea. Are dressed in early green. The river sweeps In long embracing curves; its course it keeps From north to south, and then from east to west And backward; thus, the vale may take its rest. And slake its thirst; may its great fruitage bear And bring to man its harvest, free from care. One backward look to names we hold most dear. To Massie, Tiffin, Worthington, to clear The way in which to build a mighty state; McArthur and McDonald, not less great, In war's encounter, or the tales to tell Of what strange ventures in that day befell The heroes of the hour. More names we hold ONE HUNDRED YEARS 77 In dear remembrance, pure and true as gold In fire refined; Creighton and Byrd and Belt As lawyers, judges, men of rare renown On whom there dwelt no shade of public frown. To them, to all, who early bore their part To make Ohio what she is, the soul, the heart, The first of states, from out the Old North West, Our dearest love, always the first and best. April 1st, 1896. TO , ON HER JUNE BIRTHDAY A SWEET rose bloomed in June, We chanced to pass that way; It bloomed from dawn 'til noon, From noon, 'til evening gray. All the long day it bloomed, Unconscious of its charm; The cold earth it illumed With radiance soft and warm. Its fragrance dulled the sense Of pain. Ah ! who that lives Can spare the recompense Of joy, dear nature gives. TO , ON HER JUNE BIRTHDAY 79 And when this flower shall fade As fade it must and die; Alas ! how deep the shade That on our path will lie. Kind Heaven ! in tenderness, Oh spare the beauteous rose, For many days to bless The garden where it grows. June, 1896. THE HORIZON'S BOUND "A wayfarer by the sea-side on a spit of sand, with nothing to obstruct his view of the horizon on all sides, is enchanted; but the desire to penetrate beyond takes possession of him, which being in vain, he falls into reverie and happy dreams." Far out beyond the horizon dim Where the wide ocean's circling rim Doth meet the sky, Treasures not owned by mortal men Beyond imagination's ken Uncounted lie. Far to the east the blazing sun Begins his golden course to run 'Mid skies aflame; The earth, exultant, wakes to greet The Lord of Day, to kiss his feet. And shout his name. THE HORIZON'S BOUND 81 We strive to fly before the face Of that glad orb, but for such race Our strength too slight; Our eyes pursue, he hides afar Where crescent moon and evening star Bedeck the night. O, gorgeous sun ! that sinks to rest 'Mid clouds that thou thyself hast dressed In cloth of gold. O, send some messenger to tell Whence comes thy radiance, whence the spell That doth us hold. We northward turn. There well we know Bold Ursa Major points to show The polar star; But whence the Northern lights? They shine But tell of naught below the line — That fatal bar. 82 THE HORIZON'S BOUND O, keep not back, thou North: and South Proclaim thy wealth with thy wide mouth. We count it loss Not to have climbed thy Andes' height, Not to have seen with glad delight Thy Southern cross. Or East, or West, North, South, the sky Dips to its line of rest; we sigh "What lies beyond.''" The wave's loud voice, the wind's shrill hiss. The clouds with thunder filled, to this. Do not respond. We dream; strange forms around us rise, We stand entranced in glad surprise And ecstasy; And lost to all we know of pain, Amid a realm of bliss we reign, Our Souls, how free ! THE HORIZON'S BOUND 83 We see the scenes our childhood dreamed, The things which to our fancy seemed As real as life; And yet without life's carlcing care, The struggle and perpetual war. The cruel strife. These peopled scenes, as long ago, Are floating 'round us, soft and slow: Nor voice nor sound Proclaim the story of their birth; We only know that not on earth Such scenes are found. But soon the vision fades; once more We strive to gaze at that far shore In that sweet light: Lost hopes, lost memories, treasures all — Are buried now. In vain we call; Again, 'tis night. 84 THE HORIZON'S BOUND O, land of reverie and dream, How real our wild vagaries seem Within thy realm 1 A joy more rare than when wide-eyed Awake, alert, our course we guide By reason's helm. Alas ! for us the horizon dim Shows now the sky's encircling rim The earth doth meet. But dreams, are intimations bright That some day a celestial light Our eyes may greet. Bay Head, N. J., August, 1896. SABBATH MORN Thanks ! for this day of grateful rest, Set time for praise and prayer; Come, Holy Spirit, fill my breast With thoughts divinely fair. "Things of the Spirit" — show to me As Thou alone cans't show. The joy of saintly purity. Glad Heaven begun below. Fulfill thy promise. Heavenly Guest: "The pure in heart shall see God" — over all, forever blest. Supreme in majesty; Nor less in love: All love Thou art This, all Thy works proclaim: O joy untold ! within my heart I feel the sacred flame. 86 SABBATH MORN O, let this flame my sins consume, A heavenly zeal inspire; The darkness of my path illume, A never-dying fire. I know that when this day is done The curtain of the night Will hide the shining of the sun, But not that inward light. In sleep it still my heart shall warm And all my dreams impress With something of the gracious charm Of its own loveliness. Chillicothe, Ohio, October, 1896. MY LIFE My life is like the gleaming star That shoots across the sky at night; Whence came it from the depths afar? And whither doth it take its flight ? Its sister stars through which it fled, A paler radiance seem to shed; But who when my brief sun has set, Will smile the less or feel regret? February, 1897. WE ARE CONTENT— EVENING This quiet scene invites repose Bids agitation cease, Makes the sad heart forget its woes And gives the troubled peace. Far off, the bosom of the Lake By gentle winds is stirred: Upon the shore the wavelets break In murmurs scarcely heard. The trees, with low and curving sweep, Lean forward to embrace Their own fair forms, reflected deep Beneath the water's face. WE ARE CONTENT— EVENING 89 The moon, the stars, the milky way. The calm transparent air, Make night more beauteous than the day, Oh Night ! divinely fair. The lake, the land, the sky, the air In one, are strangely blent: The voice they speak, the listening ear May catch; "We are content." Harbor Point, Mich., August 3rd, 1897. A MOTHER'S JOY What rapture now my bosom thrills As I behold my boy; For me, the gold from Klondyke's hills, Or silver from Nevada's mills Is but a base alloy. "Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone" My blood is in his veins; My being into his is thrown. Mother and child are only one — Within my heart he reigns. Harbor Point, Mich., August, 1897. MY FATHER My Father ! how that name recalls The memories of other days ! Like pictures hung in darkened halls Where sudden sunlight plays. In childhood's morn when bright with dew. Life's scenes before me lay, All glittering, with naught in view To shade the dawning day. Then boyhood glad, how swift it came And passed, e'en as the breeze That fitful, 'neath the sunset's flame Sweeps light, o'er summer seas. His dear calm voice stilled my unrest. Bade perturbation cease: I heard, and deep within my breast. There came the whisper, "peace." 92 MY FATHER And when to manhood grown, I found The fates a web had spun; Another heart with mine was bound; Tho' twain, they were but one. My earlier love, still bright and warm For father; kept its place Tho' age and illness bent his form And paled his dear, sweet face. At length the day of parting came: Oh day of days to me ! How sweet his memory, dear his name, Bright hope ! Eternity ! This hope my soul sustains. One look To Christ, the Saviour, given: 'Tis but a step across the brook Of death, and then — 'tis Heaven. Harbor Point, Mich., August, 1897. FAREWELL Sleep on, sweet one, thy mission's done, Thy crown of victory bravely won. Life's struggle o'er; Thy soul, with courage unsurpassed, With faith unwavering to the last, Its secret bore. Thy spirit, freed from house of dust. With other "Spirits of the just," Will hence abide Among them, like a shining star; At thy coming, "Gates ajar" Have opened wide. And for our following, thou wilt wait. Eager to meet us at the gate With joys full flood: By suffering, we are perfect made. Life's discipline our surest aid To all that's good. April 22nd, 1898. MOONLIGHT—IN THE COUNTRY The silence deepens and the drowsy night Enfolds the earth beneath its mantle grey; The fair round moon with beams of silvery white, Resists the darkness and prolongs the day. Between the shadows of the trees, there fall Pale sheaves of radiance; upward, grim and dread, The spectral trunks rise high; amid them all Come seeming whispers from the sainted dead. I seem to hear their voices in the air, I bend to hear the message they may bring; Is it a requiem over days of care Now past, or hymn of praise they sing? Alas ! I wait in vain. On my dull ear Th' inarticulate sounds fall evermore Like ocean surges, not distinct and near. But far off, breaking on a distant shore. MOONLIGHT— IN THE COUNTRY 95 I turn to other thoughts, once more a child, Dear nature pours into my untaught ear A flood melodious, and my soul is wild And jubilant with song of loftiest cheer. Once more the joy of innocence is mine And sweet and pure in ceaseless tone It fills my throbbing heart with song divine; No other shares it, this, is all my own. Down by the brook, it warbles with its flow. O'er highest hills it winds the mellow horn. Within the shaded wood, in movement slow. In one great hymn of praise all sounds are borne. That hymn in rythmic grandeur, pure and calm. Is raised to Nature, and to Nature's God. My soul, now free, would join the sacred psalm And tell its holy rapture all abroad. Rosemoor Farm, June, 1898. TOIL Heroic toil doth move the bar That kept it down. So like a star ! Or rather, like a spirit fair. Eternal — God like, in the air It mounts, to trace in glorious lines The zone where Fame eternal shines. September, li AN OCTOGENARIAN'S PRAYER "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray Thee Lord, my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take; And this I ask for Jesus' sake." "Now I lay me down to sleep." Gently let my eye-lids close: Day is done, and darkness deep Bids tired nature seek repose. "I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep." If Thou dost care, what need care I? If Thou dost watch, I well may sleep And say to all the world "Good bye." 98 AN OCTOGENARIAN'S PRAYER "If I should die before I wake." It may be so. Not far the date, Full soon life's fretted cord must break; At four score years, I calmly wait. "I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take." I give Thee all. Oh ! hear my prayer ! Accept the gift, for Jesus' sake And take me to Thy mansion fair. Chillicothe, Ohio, February 20th, 1899. A DAY AT HARBOR POINT, MICH. MORN Hail rising sun ! o'er far low hills ascending, Thy beams outstretching westward o'er the bay, Whose rippled waters with thy radiance blending. Salute the dawning of the gladsome day. Earth wakes to music; jubilant its voices Ring out from bird and brook and verdant trees. While 'gainst the shore the hoarser surf rejoices. And full content doth whisper in the breeze. NOON Oh radiant noon ! full of the sun's fair shining. From earth's low bound up to the zenith's height; How blest upon some restful bank reclining To breathe such air, to bask in such a light. No cloud obscures the blue pellucid heaven. This day let sorrow flee to other lands; Here, kindly peace hath choicest blessings given, And joy brings welcome in uplifted hands. LofCl A DAY AT HARBOR POINT, MICH. EVENING The setting sun hath brought the day its ending, Far o'er the wave its clear reflection glows, The bay and sky, so like, in one seem blending. The twilight long doth brings it own repose. Yon horned moon westward is slowly sinking, The stars in due procession, one by one. In lustrous splendor, far above us twinkling, Proclaim their kinship to the radiant sun. Come gentle sleep and touch my eyes with poppies. Let me in dreamland for a while abide, Where fancy's facile brush may paint me copies Of this day's morn — and noon — and eventide. Harbor Point, Mich. July, 1899 AN OLD MAN'S RETROSPECT My four score years proclaim, I am not young; But time, that subtil thief, hath not as yet Stol'n all my pleasures. Ne'er can I forget The haunts of childhood — the shouts that rung From voices jubilant — the songs we sung, The race — the swim — bare feet in rivulet. O'er which wide spreading branches now are met. On either side green vines were trailing hung; The rippling water o'er its pebbly bed Thrilled its own music to my careless ear And all unnoticed, sweetly, ere it fled Dropped on my heart its impress deep and dear. While memory holds such treasures I'll not dread. The winter of my age, nor deem it drear. 1899. AT EIGHTY YEARS I AM not old but only gray; My white hairs do not mean decay. My young heart with my mind conspires To kindle never dying fires. 1 am not old but only gray; Mere callow youth can only say "I'll try." While age may say " 'tis done. The battle fought — the victory won. I am not old but only gray; Youth's fancies on the earth may play Entranced, but age may reach on high And with its long arm touch the sky. AT EIGHTY YEARS 103 I am not old but only gray; I waive past sorrows far away And bid my stricken soul be glad; Welcome the good — reject the sad. I am not old but only gray; Years are but mile-stones on the way; Fresh youth may go a quicker pace But staying age will win the race. I am not old but only gray; My youth held out a promise gay But broke it to the hope, at last Age sits in triumph on the past. I am not old but only gray; I sit and muse, I dream, I pray; I build me castles in the air And people them with beings fair. I am not old but only gray; Sweeter than e'er before, this day Are hum of bees and song of birds And hsping children's earliest words. I04 AT EIGHTY YEARS I am not old but only gray; My youth's sweet love is sweet today; As at the first, so now we dwell In love, nor wish to break the spell. O Father! let me not decay And drivel through a weary way Until the end that comes to all Shall wrap my bones in funeral pall. But to the last, not old, though gray, Give me, dear Lord, the gentle ray Of thy dear love; I'll all resign To Thee, and place my hand in Thine. 1899. LITTLE TRAVERSE BAY (with storm on the lake) This breeze that now the harbor's bosom wakes With gentle motion, on the bay- Has wider, wilder scope, and ceaseless breaks The wave, where whitecaps roll and play. And far beyond the head-lands, on the main, The same wind, stronger in its might. Doth take the voice of storm; Ah! not in vain! The waters rise to mountain height. They fiercely dash upon the shelving shore, Then backward roll, to gather force To break more strongly; while yet more and more They beat the land without remorse. io6 LITTLE TRAVERSE BAY Their source, the depth far out, profound and dark, Where wrecks on wrecks lie deeply stored; Where fortunes slumber, and men's bones lie stark Amid the stillness, unexplored. Stillness, abysmal! vain the weary stretch Of fancy free to count the cost Of treasures here long buried, or to fetch To sight one image of the lost. We wait for clearer skies and smoother seas When storms are o'er; when we shall sail Serenely, with a lightsome flowing breeze. Above the wrecks and bodies pale. Harbor Point, Mich., August, 1899. THE BURIAL Bring flowers, for the sainted dead to wear, Entwine them deftly in her thin grey hair: A rose on her breast and a Hly fair, For her adorning. Her spirit has taken its heavenward flight. To dwell with the angels and saints in white; To us, her going is darkness of night. To her, 'tis morning. Ye, bearers, move slowly, bringing her bier, Step lightly and softly, set it down here; This grave will be hallowed, by treasure so dear, For her, it's waiting. We lower her coffin down to its place Beneath the green sod, whose closing embrace Shall shut out the light. For her, through God's grace. The day is breaking. io8 THE BURIAL With her, when living, her charm and delight Were ferns and blossoms in colors bedight. Among which she moved from morn until night, And never grew weary. 'Tis fit to surround her, in her last sleep. With what she loved best; let these her watch keep Through silence of night, as the long hours creep, Ever so dreary. Let her grave be festooned in every line. With branches of cedar, hemlock and pine; While fern leaves and flowers in beauty combine To make of this mound. The loveliest spot on that beautiful hill Where th' dead sleep in silence, so deep and so still, At last, we trust fondly, free from all ill. To rise from the ground. Chillicothe, Ohio, June 9th, 1900. POPPIES The poppies shone in various bloom In rainbow colors bright and fair. So warmly brilliant, left no room For other radiance to share. So proud their leaves abroad were spread. So high their heads aloft they bore. Disdainful, haughty, as if dread Of death could never haunt them more. Again I looked, the stems were bent. To earth their blossoms drooping, fell; No more toward heaven their bloom is sent, No more we feel their witching spell. So I have seen the human flower. So loved, in beauty shine supreme, Then droop, and die; Oh! sad the hour That robs me of my love's sweet dream. July, 1901. LOSS OF SIGHT To Miss Sometimes I think of thee, as losing sight; And then my fancy takes a sweeping flight On wing outstretched, among the sons of men Who gained renown world-wide by voice or pen, Yet knew not the propitious light of day To guide or cheer them on their darksome way. Prophets and seers, in darkness wrapt sublime, Saw far adown the lengthened track of time; And poets rare, all nature's beauty lost To their closed eyes, saw yet a mighty host Of seraph forms, and landscapes far more bright Than seeing eyes behold, by day or night. But thou canst see, tho' dim the vision be. Somewhat of earth's great glory. Still for thee Sunshine and shadow come and go, and flit Alternate gold and dark. Thy path is lit With love undying, a serener light. Which glows and quickens in its onward flight. LOSS OF SIGHT m Some household duties guide thy willing feet. Some errand finds thee on the open street; A call for some good deed doth reach thine ear. And quick response is thine to lift or cheer. Thy seat is humbly filled in place of prayer; Who else is absent, thou art always there. I see about thee gathering throngs of friends. Whose voices soft, a song of gladness sends Into thy heart, all open wide and quick To take thy joy of such companionship. Among that throng I fain would come, and bold, Lay claim to thy regard for one so old. Let not my age bespeak me cold and stern. For yet my heart is warm. Within me burn Undying fires. For thee the flame doth glow With youthful heat. My pulses are not slow, But quick, when fond emotion fills my breast With thoughts of thy dear friendship long pos- sessed. Harbor Point, Mich. July, 23rd, 1901. THE STORM The lightnings flash, the thunder roars, The rain in torrents madly pours. The wind blows high; 'Tis night ! one moment quivers bright, The next is darkness' self; no light Illumes the sky. The noise of waves from out the bay. As mad the waters bear their way Against the shore. Make loud the tumult, and the flash Of lightning shows the water's dash Only the more. A quivering light repeated oft Reveals the clouds now borne aloft To furthest skies; Below, the land and wave are bright With sudden splendor, and the light In darkness dies. THE STORM The wind in deeper howl bemoans The darkness, and the air now groans As if in pain: How sharp the pang! how deep and strong Its throes in fury roll along, Beneath the rain! Earth shakes amid the wild display. The air and water hold full sway, While man before It all, stands gazing on the scene, As if such things had never been, Nor would be more. Harbor Point, Mich., July, 1901. "3 OUR GOLDEN WEDDING THE VOYAGE OF MARRIED LIFE Wilt step into my boat, he said; The maiden fair stood by his side: With cheeks suffused with blushes red, And trembling lips, she thus replied: Pray whither doth the voyage tend ? And is the river deep and wide ? Do fair blue skies above it bend, And some calm sea await its tide ? Or doth the river find its bed Amid a rough and rocky way. While dark clouds gather over head No sun to cheer it with its ray ? OUR GOLDEN WEDDING 115 To this the youth, touched by her fears, Content to meet or pain or bliss. If haply she through coming years Might share his lot, gave answer, this: I know not what may hap. God reigns. And under Him, I hold the oar; Why think of losses, or of gains. The soft wind's breath, or tempest's roar? Step in, nor doubt that future years Shall bring due strength whate'er betide, Let hope prevail and calm thy fears And take thy place, close at my side. She gave her hand and left the shore; And so two lives were joined in one For all life's journey: never more Shall these two part, — till life is done. ii6 OUR GOLDEN WEDDING The stream that bore them, speeding fast Relentless held its tortuous way, Sometimes through golden sands it passed With children on its banks at play. Sometimes the jagged crags' embrace (Their summits rising tall and gray,) Kept out the light, save one dim space. Far upward, where it still was day. Sometimes the day resplendent shone. Nor less the splendor of the night; The stars with radiance fair looked down. The moon, with still serener light. But oft the gathered clouds o'er head Shut off the heavenly vision fair. The thickening gloom around them spread And seemed to darken all the air. OUR GOLDEN WEDDING 117 Without a glimmering star to guide, It seemed as if all hope had fled. But no ! that star doth still abide; When hope doth die, then all is dead. The clouds dispersed, and broader flows The stream on which the pair embarked: A quiet bay invites repose. Its shores with radiant beauty marked. . The trees, in Autumn foliage clad, The grass ne'er showed a greener sod; All Nature's thousand voices glad. Unite in songs of praise to God. Here let our travelers rest awhile. As all the past doth pass review; For this, a tear — for that, a smile. For all, glad thanks, devout and true. Chillicothe, Ohio, October i, 1895. MAY 7 - i9ol IViAY 7 iiJU2 MAY 7 190? MAY 12 1902 ;ii^>>i<*ii«^>.^>>^iiiii>-^^ vw-^vi^^^^