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 LEISURE HOUR POEMS. 
 
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mi HOUR POEMS, 
 
 -BY- 
 
 VINNIE THORNTON 
 
 
 
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 ■\ V Q r; r= III,'' / 
 
 PATTONSBUEG, MO. 
 PATTONSBUEG CAL,L PRINTING HOUSE. 
 
 1888. 
 

 COPYRIGHTED 1888, BY MRS. VINNIE THORNTON. 
 
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 To Her Beloved Children 
 
 This Work is Lovingly Dedicated 
 By the Author. 
 
 ERRATA: 
 
 7th line, 2d page, tor "close onto," read "close on." 
 12th line, 3d page, for "peculiarities personal to itself," read "charac- 
 teristics peculiar fco itself." 
 5th line, 1st verse, 18th page, for "bonnine," read "bonnie." 
 3d line, 3d verse, 18th page, for "requium," read "requiem." 
 2d line, 2dA'^ersc, 26th page, for "will gem," read "will ever gem." 
 2d line, 2d verse, 27th page, for "brighty,"i'ead "brightly." 
 5th line, 5th verse, 85th page, strike but "mirthful." 
 
fiamsLn fsFatare 
 
 VINNIE THORNTON. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen : 
 
 We are assembled to-night to discuss the fruit- 
 tulness of the Human Mind, or, in other words, 
 the vices, virtues and idiosyncrasies of the human 
 race : A subject as incomprehensible as it is inter- 
 esting. 
 
 When we reflect on our frail first parents of 
 paradise fame, we cannot disguise from ourselves 
 the fact that none of us can boast of our pedigree. 
 Eden has been pictured to us as a bower of bliss 
 and beauty — a perfect Elysium of peace and puri- 
 t)^ — until "the tempter came to beautiful Eve ; but 
 from that hour up to the present the sons and 
 daughters of men have been continually howling 
 over the hollowness of human hopes, and accord- 
 ing to Divine inspiration, will continue to howl 
 till Time with them shall be no more. 
 
It is a deplorable fact, but a fact, nevertheless, 
 that the "Serpent" holds a prominent place in 
 modern as well as ancient history. From its 
 "Headquarters," the "Garden of Eden," it has 
 wriggled itself down thro' all the ages of the past, 
 and up to the present time, has never ceased to 
 trail its filthy length along close onto the heels of the 
 human family. It comes to us all in many a gui&e, 
 and haunts our sleeping, waking dreams. 
 
 Many years ago America gave to the world 
 her gifted son, Horace Greely, known to us all as 
 an eminent statesman and scholar ; a man who was 
 called a "crank" by the codfish aristocracy of this 
 countr}^, but who, nevertheless, distinguished him- 
 selfjby wieldmg all his faculties for the welfare of his 
 fellow men ; a man whose powerful mentalitv won 
 for him prominence, popularity and power; a man 
 who, havmg won for himself the homage and admir- 
 ation of the noblest of his kind, died regretted bv a 
 mournmg world. Years ago there arose upon the 
 zenith, upon the mental sky of America, a "Star" 
 of the first magnitude, around whom all lesser plan- 
 ets revolved. It shone with a radiance all its own, 
 and the Nation gloried in its effulgent beauty and 
 sighed and sorrowed when it paled in its splendor. 
 Only a short time ago it fell from the sky of Time 
 into the great ocean ol Eternity. The name of that 
 "star" was Henry Ward Beecher. Ladies and 
 Gentlemen, you do not expect me to discuss "Hu- 
 man Nature" with the originality, power and prac- 
 ticality of that distinguished politician and classic 
 writer, Horace Greely ; neither do you expect me 
 
-3- 
 
 to decipher the fruitfulness of the human mind 
 with the rhetoric of a Beecher ; nor to present to 
 you my ideas appareled in the brilhant robes and 
 adorned with the starry gems of an Ingersoll ; nor 
 yet to bring to this comprehensive, this stupendous 
 subject, the science of Spurzheim, or the wonder- 
 ful brain of a Victor Hugo. Unfortunately for my- 
 self and my subject, my knowledge of the great 
 world of mankind is exceedingly limited, for the 
 vices, virtues and peculiarities of mankind are 
 manifold and varied, for each and every nation on 
 the earth possesses peculiarities personal to itself ; 
 and so it is with regard to individuals. The proud 
 ships of commerce and emigration are continually 
 bearing to our shores represen<^atives from every 
 lana upon the Globe ; but it is not of the foreign 
 element we are about to speak to-night. Instead 
 of discussing the moralities, immoralities and ec- 
 centricities of the several nationalities of the earth 
 w^e will confine these remarks to ourselves insomuch 
 as we can. 
 
 An old writer hath truly said that **Life is like 
 a mighty ocean on whose yoluptuous bosom are 
 borne the loves and passions of men." Let us 
 look into this wonderful mirror of nature, and in 
 the language of the immortal Burns ''see oursilves 
 as ithers see us." In the history of the world this 
 mighty ocean of human life reflects a sky black 
 with the storm clouds of war ; bright with the sun- 
 light of peace, the rainbow of joy, the "Star of 
 Hope," shining on the fair horizon of our happy 
 dreams ; it pictures a great and glorious republic 
 
baptized with the blood of many of its best and 
 bravest sons ; it pictures the gieat heart of a mighty 
 nation, on whose imperishable tablets are inscribed 
 in letters of tire the names of the illustrious living 
 and dead ; it pictures the mammoth cemetery, the 
 sweet "Sunny South," where the magnolia's bloom 
 and the mournful cypress waves, and where not 
 one of all the many tears we've shed could fall upon 
 their lonely graves. In short, this mighty ocean of 
 human life pictures the land of the free and the 
 home of the brave ; a land purchased with the tears 
 and the groans of the dying ; a beautiful land 
 bounded by beautiful waters — within and over 
 whose borders the star-spangled banner still tri- 
 umphantly waves, at whose shrine the nations of 
 the earth have ever bowed in admiration and hom- 
 age. Beauty is the darling attribute of our Creat- 
 or, and whilst we worship at this beautiful shrine 
 let us not forget that being a self-ruled people, the 
 continued prosperity and stability of our govern- 
 ment depends entirely on the virtue and honor of 
 its citizens, and that patriotism is one of the grand- 
 est phases of Human Nature. 
 
 Moreover, let us ever bear in mind that these 
 '*wooly-headed old farmers," as I understand Sam 
 Jones affectionately addresses this particular class 
 of citizens, are the rough diamonds glittering on the 
 broad breast of civilization. The Darwinian the- 
 ory that the human race sprang from apes and mon- 
 keys certainly does not apply to these kings of 
 the soil. Why does the great evangelist hurl his 
 arrow of ridicule at these workingmen of the world, 
 
-s- 
 
 to whom this country and nation owe their present 
 prosperity and grandeur? Ar'n't they toney enough 
 to suit his royal highness? Does Mr. Jones want 
 these *'wooly-headed old farmers" to array them- 
 selves in purple and fine linen ere they presume to 
 stand in the presence of a man of his gorgeous in- 
 tellect, and that wears the clothes that he does ? Or 
 does he want them to brush up their morality and 
 Christianity ere they make so bold as to appear at 
 those august, austere conventions, viz : the annual 
 campmeetings of their country? What's the mat- 
 ter with Bro. Jones? Is his dude hat too large for 
 him? Does it fall so low over his clerical ears as 
 to entirely exclude the uproarious racket of the 
 threshing machine that rolls out his biead before 
 him, and that he cannot hear the babies cry whilst 
 the weary wives and mothers of the land churn and 
 work over the butter to spread it? Has the great 
 preacher's mental and physical vision become so 
 obscured by the sins and follies of this unfriendly 
 world that he cannot see the chickens that roost in 
 every barn3'ard of this great and glorious republic? 
 Now, we are the proud and happy possessors 
 of the grandest country on the earth, but as this is not 
 our abiding place, we are longing to gain a better 
 land than this. We, witn all mankind, still march 
 to the martial music of Life's ever-changing, ever- 
 sounding sea ; but when for us all it shall have 
 changed from gay to grave — when all its waves 
 shall sob their soft refrain our requiura knell upon 
 the solemn shores of Time will our tired feet press 
 the shining strand of that illustrious land of eter- 
 
nal sunshine? When the fierce conflicts between 
 vice and virtue, passion and principle, shall have 
 closed forever — when all the passions of the soul 
 which now come to tempt us in our waekness and 
 despair shall have been paralyzed by the powerful 
 hand of Death — when the morning of the Grand 
 Reveille shall have dawned, will we enter the heav- 
 en of our desires? — That Celestial City whose 
 builder and maker is God? — Before whom angels 
 fall and arch-angels cast their glittering crowns? 
 Shall we all go home to our Father's house of 
 many mansions? This is a leading question, 
 as the lawyers say ; a question which has been 
 profoundly discussed, profoundly agitated from time 
 immemorial, by noted divines of every denomina- 
 tion, age, color and clime ; this controversy has 
 been carried on for centuries by men of of breadth 
 and depth of thought and feeling ; men whose minds 
 Almighty God has illumined with the Divine fire 
 of genius ; a question concerning which we all get 
 to the front in every conceivable garb and guise ; 
 a question that ever has been and ever will be re- 
 sponded to by all the millions of the earth, and be- 
 ing a world of self-deceivers, our actions generally 
 gainsay our answers, and vice-versa. I've been 
 floundering around in the troubled waters of con- 
 viction for some time, and have come to the con- 
 clusion that the immortal mind of man is like the 
 ever-changing sea, whose shifting Hghts and shad- 
 ows attune the soul to gloom and gladness. For, 
 as the sea sings, sparkles and dances when caressed 
 by the sunlight of Heaven, so does man sing, spar- 
 
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 kle and dance when caressed by the sunlight of ]oy 
 or prosperity. As the sea murmurs, darkens and 
 rages when overshadowed by the storm-clouds of 
 Heaven, so does man murmur, darken and rage 
 when overshadowed by the storm-clouds of grief 
 or adversity ; for our tho'ts, our feelings, our lives, 
 (like the sea) take color from our surroundings, 
 events and circumstances. I could illustrate this 
 fact by many illustrations from the huge book of 
 human life, but it is unnecessary. 
 The poet says — 
 
 "Sail on, sail on, proud Ship of State." 
 The question before the American people to-day, 
 is, shall our proud Ship of State, the pride and glo- 
 ry of every true American heart, continue to plough 
 the angry billows of intemperance until its accumu- 
 lated cargo of vice and crime sink it in mid-ocean 
 with all its living freight on board? Being a self- 
 ruled people this question must be answered by the 
 monarch multitude. When we shall have exer- 
 cised the nobler qualities Almighty God has vouch- 
 safed to us as a people, then will the pitiful wail of 
 the friendless and oppressed, the agonizing cry of 
 America's accursed, and doubly accursed, be 
 changed to songs of thankfulness and joy ; when 
 we shall have rescued our country's perishing who 
 are now struggling with the turbid bilbws of Life's 
 tempestuous sea, together with all the little waifs 
 of the waves now dotting its desolate strands — then 
 will the leaden clouds of sorrow lift and roll away, 
 and the sun of Prohibition will arise and shed its 
 rays divine upon our dear, delightful land ; then 
 
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 A'ill our proud Ship of State float upon the placid 
 waters of purity, and we shall drift on and adown 
 the glorious vista of the coming years and anchor 
 at last, let us hope, in the happy haven of Jehovah's 
 smile. 
 
 While the vices, faults and foibles of the 
 American people are many and glaring, their vir- 
 tues are as numerous as the glorious hills of their 
 nativity. As a nation, however, the diviner ele- 
 ments of their natures are being crushed and cor- 
 rupted in the great struggle for wealth and social 
 supremacy. Now, whilst gold is a necessity, there- 
 fore, a blessing to the human family, it is also the 
 god the American masses bow down to. How 
 long shall we kneel to this idol? How long shall 
 some of us continue to cultivate the despicable 
 spirit ot tyranny and oppression ? When shall this 
 terrible warring of the social elements cease, or, in 
 other words, how long shall the struggling, labor- 
 ing millions of America submit to mammon ? When 
 this fair land shall once more be deluged with the 
 blood of its heroes, or when we shall have scaled 
 the lofty heights of moral or christian sublimity, 
 then, and not until then, will we dethrone the mon- 
 arch of America. This being the boasted home of 
 liberty, the poor man's paradise, let us not forget 
 that many a fierce cyclone of cruelty and popu- 
 lar prejudice have swept over his life, uprooting 
 the joyous blossoms of his soul, since on that mem- 
 orable day in our Nation's history when the Pur- 
 itan Fathers first landed on Plymouth Rock. The 
 political sky that now bends over us is black 
 
with the storm-clouds of injustice — they overshad- 
 ow all the land, and yet 'tis not a rayless night 
 
 The thunder peals along the sk}' 
 
 And heralds the approaching storm — 
 The vivid lightnings flash ou high, 
 
 But smiling Joy will greet the morn ; 
 For lo ! the Starry Flag still waves — 
 
 The Stars of Love still sweetly shine, 
 And lights a million honor'd graves 
 
 With rays resplendent and divine. 
 
 Our Knights of Labor proudly stand, 
 
 As did our own brave Knights of old, 
 To guard this dearly purchased land 
 
 And free it from the curse of Gold. 
 Nature's own noblemen are they, 
 
 With lion hearts and nerves of steel. 
 Soon will ihey leign with righteous sway 
 
 Mid all our Country's woe and weal. 
 
 Th«n thoult return, O, Bird of Peace, 
 
 Nor lift thy snowy pinions more, 
 When this dark night of storms shall cease — 
 
 When morn shall gild thy native shore. 
 And whilst thy praises we shall sing 
 
 In songs impassion 'd, fond and free, 
 O, may our blood-bought Eden ring 
 
 With thy glad notes of Liberty. 
 
. Wisconsin. 
 
 By the Great Lakes there lies a land 
 By Heaven's purest breezes fann'd — 
 Of romance bold and legends grand, 
 A -near whose bright and shining strand 
 A hundred ships at anchor lay, 
 Harbor 'd in many a bosky bay, 
 With flags a-floating night and day, 
 'Eound which the tireless sea birds play. 
 
 Fair Land! my fancy fondly flies 
 
 To where thy thousand hills arise 
 
 In wondrous beauty to the skies, 
 
 Like bright wing'd birds of paradise. 
 
 Sun-kissM an' radiant are thy rills 
 
 That wind thro' all thy lofty hills, 
 
 That bathe their bank's— their verdure thrills, 
 
 Whose songs divine sweet Zephyr trills. 
 
 Land of the cedar and the pine! 
 
 Thy dazzling dells I deem divine, 
 
 Thy limpid lakes like sapphires shine. 
 
 Thy sweetest roses blush to wine. 
 
 In majesty thy rivers glide 
 
 To mingle with the mighty tide 
 
 Of Mississippi's waters wide — 
 
 That peerless stream — our Country's pride. 
 
 Dear, lovely land of light and shade, 
 Of glad retreats, of glen and glade. 
 Of Stygian pool and bright cascade, 
 Thou'lt never from my mem'ry fade. 
 Tho' fate hath sent me from thy shore. 
 And sullen clouds above me low'r. 
 Still in my heart, forevermore. 
 Will live the land that I adore. 
 
So 
 
 The majestic Missouri rolls 'tvvixt thee and me; 
 
 We are parted forever— my loye, can it be? 
 
 But I cannot forget thee— these lines will attest. 
 
 O, my heart's far away in the beautiful West; 
 
 In that sweet land of sunshine— of gems lich and rare. 
 
 Where the breezes are balmy— the skies ever fair; 
 
 Where you made me your captive— my chains I caress'd— 
 
 O, my heart's far away in that land of the West. 
 
 Where the forests are waving their bright boughs on high, 
 Where th' notes of the hunter with the song birds may vie. 
 Where your soul, set to music, to mine was address'd — 
 O, my heart's far away in that land of the West; 
 In that picturesque region where the buffaloes roam — 
 The deer and the anteh»pe do make it their home — 
 Where at gloaming we stray *d to the spot we lov'd best — 
 O, my heart's far away in that land of the west. 
 
 Where th' Eockies rear to Heaven their heights so sublime, 
 Where the cascades are chanting their anthems divine. 
 Where you 'waken'd love's loftiest strain in my breast— 
 O, my heart's far away in that land of the West; 
 In that wierd realm of wonders, wheie wild waters play, 
 Whirl and dance in dim canons, by night and by day, 
 Where the waves of your spirit you would have suppress'd — 
 O, my hearfs far away in that land of the West. 
 
 Like the tints of the rainbow — so lovely in hue — 
 Are the flow'rs of the garland I've woven for you — 
 That I pluck'd from the bowers your dear presence blest 
 Long ago, long ago. in that land of the West; 
 In that Garden of Eden, that gay, fairy land. 
 Where the snowy spray kisses the sweet, sunny strand, 
 Where so often your dear lips to mine you have prest. 
 In that beautiful land. Love, that land of the West. 
 
Wooed and Wedded. 
 
 'Tvvas at a happy New -Year ball. 
 Where emiling Pleasure rei.sjn'd; 
 
 Where light and music flooded ail- 
 That scene for beauty famM, 
 
 I met a stalwart stranger bold 
 Who lingered by my side, 
 
 A princely youth of perfect mould, 
 Of passion, pow'r and pride. 
 
 I see him now, as on that right 
 
 So many years ago — 
 His fair face flush'd, his eyes alight 
 
 With love's impassionM glow. 
 Sweet Irish eyes, of Heavn's own hue, 
 
 Like June's oft-changing skies; 
 Bright, sunny locks, full lips, whose dew 
 
 With joy did mine baptize. 
 
 For in that brilliant scene of mirth 
 He clasp'd me to his breast, 
 
 And there my heart to love gave birth 
 The while my lips he prest. 
 
 Unlike the love of later years- 
 Unmixed with base alloy — 
 
 A love that dims mine eyes with tears, 
 And murders all my joy. 
 
 And when he lured me from the throng, 
 
 To listen to his pray'r 
 Supernal as a seraph's song, 
 
 I pledg'd him fond and fair. 
 Within his conq'ring arms I lay 
 
 While passion paled his face. 
 And marveled at his mood so gay — 
 
 His fierce, his fond embrace. 
 
 'Tis in this mystic land of dreams 
 
 My mem'ry ranges free, 
 Thro' winter nights, when Luna's beams 
 
 Lit all his war to me. 
 
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 Thro' winter days, that flitted b5S 
 
 Like snowbirds on the wing. 
 Till all the glad and smiling sky 
 
 Bang with the songs of Spring. 
 
 In all nay sleeping, waking hours 
 
 I'm dreaming of the bliss 
 That blossomed with the sweet spring flow'rs 
 
 When skies bent but to kiss; 
 When Love attuned his thrilling lyre, 
 
 It's master- chords awoke. 
 Made all its magic notes of tire 
 
 Vibrate to ev'ry stroke. 
 
 And O, how sweet the liours I while 
 
 In this dear lealm divine. 
 Where wedded joys my soul beguile, 
 
 Where Hope's immortelles shine; 
 Where softest, sweetest skies of love 
 
 Shine with serenest ray, 
 To light me to that world above 
 
 Where we shall dwell for aye. 
 
 ^o li. IT. (Jampbdl. 
 
 Frank, the springtime is come — the beautiful springtime. 
 
 With joy 'tis saluting this dear land of ours. 
 Its gay-plum'd songsters sing sweetly and blithely. 
 
 Reminding me. Brother, of childhood's bright hours. 
 When, kiss'd by the glorious sunlight of Heaven, 
 
 And rob'd in the garments of Life's merry morn. 
 We sang to Joy's music— Joy's exquisite music. 
 
 Nor dreamed of the dawning of days all forlorn. 
 
 Frank, the springtime is come — the beautiful springtime, 
 And crown'd with its garland of foliage green. 
 
 The wild, witching waters are laughing and dancing. 
 Recalling, dear Brother, youth's coquettish dieanj. 
 
 When crown'd with the chaplets we wove in the woodlands. 
 The flow'rs of Life's springtime, so gorgeous and gay. 
 
 We danced to Joy's music— Joy's exqui?ite music. 
 
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 Nor dreamed that our pleasures were passing awaj'. 
 
 Frank, the springtime is come— the beautiful springtime, 
 
 But th' sun ot Life's moruing has set for all time. 
 Those glittering garments our forms then adorning, 
 
 We laid, dearest Brother, on -'Sorrow's" sad shrine. 
 Those roseate ehaplets we donn'd in Life's springtime 
 
 We doff'd at its altar, no more to reclaim; 
 And we sing to Grief's music-^Grief's exquisite mutiie. 
 
 Of th' days that will never delight us again. 
 
 fationsbarg. 
 
 Neath the glorious bluffs of the Grand River Valley 
 
 Stands a beautiful city — the pride^of the vale; 
 A delightful abode, where the sun loves to dally, 
 
 And the sweet clover blossoms perfume the soft gale. 
 All th' air, too, is freighted with the fragrance of flowers; 
 
 The wild birds carol blithely the long, dreamy day, 
 And the bees gather honey all the sunshiny hours. 
 
 While the fishes disport where the bright waters play. 
 
 In this city of lilies the linn trees are waving. 
 
 The maples are towering, majestic and grand. 
 All the Bayou's green banks the glad waters are laving. 
 
 While the sycamores sway o'er the sweet, sunny strand, 
 Thro' this grain-growing valley the river is flowing, 
 
 And the forest trees float on its fast rolling tide; 
 Thro' this wood-border'd city, when breezes are blowing, 
 
 The mills' thundering music resounds far and wide. 
 
 In this flourishing city the forges are blazing. 
 
 And the clink of the hammers is heard on the street. 
 Over all this great region the cattle are grazing. 
 
 For its clovers and grasses are varied and sweet. 
 Thro' this fair, fruitful valley, when lambkins are playing 
 
 By the side of still waters and murmuring rills, 
 The rosy-cheeked children are joyfully straying 
 
 To the green, grassy pastures and herbage-crown'd hills. 
 
 The red man once reigned o'er this roseate Eden, 
 
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 ISTow the home of the pale-face, the fair land of fame. 
 The bufifalo roamed o'er this rich, fertile region; 
 
 Now the proud wheels of commerce rush over the plain. 
 Thro' this wild, wooded vallej^ the elk and deer bounded ; 
 
 Xow the ax of the woodman rings steady and strong; 
 The council-firea flashed where the city is founded, 
 
 And the war-cry is changed to the pale-face's song. 
 
 No foot-prints of man marked this rude, rural valley 
 
 In that wonderful age when this old world was new. 
 Now history praises 'The Pioneer's Rally : 
 
 To these heroes of Daviess our homage is due. 
 Thro' this versatile yalley, immortal in story. 
 
 The bold Plainsmen once ranged on their Mexican steeds. 
 To their mem'ries forever be honor and glory; 
 
 May kind Heaven reward all their valorous deeds. 
 
 }:^ate /Aoore. 
 
 '-^y\0 >^x/'v-^ 
 
 While th' World sing? the praises of Daniel O'Connell, 
 
 Whose fame shines undimm^d, and will shine evermore, 
 O, let us remember his darling descendent, 
 
 The friend of the friendless, sweet, charming Kate Moore. 
 She is far from the land where her kinsman is sleeping — 
 
 The sorrowful land that he sfove to make free ; 
 But she mourns for the hero who sleeps 'neath th' shamrocks- 
 
 For her beautiful birthplace— the isle of the sea. 
 
 Most lovely her figure, most lovely her features. 
 
 Most gracious the glance of her eloquent eyes; 
 In their glorious depths gleam th' soul's brightest jewels; 
 
 Their hue is the blue of her own native skies; 
 And black as the night are her soft, silken tresses, 
 
 Her smile, like the sunshine, all hearts do enthrall; 
 Her voice is as sweet as the rill's rippling music; 
 
 Her pure lips drop wisdom and blessings for all. 
 
 May He, who reigns over all lands and all nations, 
 Where storm-clouds and sunshine alternately low'r. 
 
 Avert fi'ora thee, ever, Life's terrible tempests — 
 The storm-clouds of sorrow, sweet, charming Kate Moore. 
 
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 May th' bright, brilliant sunshine of gladness beam alway,, 
 Above and around thee, where'er thou may'st be; 
 
 Thy blessings bestowed on the stranger, the stricken — 
 O, may they return, in their fulness, to thee. 
 
 5o 
 
 In beautiful Rockton, on the banks of Rock River, 
 
 In that pioud land of legend— that proud land of lore. 
 We met and we parted, at midnight, Amanda, 
 
 When the moon beamed mbeautj' on the river's bright shore; 
 But I haven't forgotten thee, dearest Amanda, 
 
 N^or the hour that we parted, perhaps for all time. 
 The flowers of Friendship that bloom in my bosom. 
 
 With fond tears have been sprinkled from fountains divine 
 
 How well I remember that night in midsummer, 
 
 When that fair little city first rose to my view. 
 How lovely the landscape, illumed by the moonlight. 
 
 How divine in its dreaming, baptized with the dew. 
 In mem'ry will linger this picture, Amanda: 
 
 On its white walls immortal 'r,will ne'er fade away— 
 Till the days of my dreaming on earth shall be ended 
 
 'Twill ne'r pale in its luster, nor lose one bright ray. 
 
 And fond recollection presents that gay morning 
 
 When I first viewed the Manor of DeLaMontayne, 
 Aglow in the sirnlight, its VUla adorning, * 
 
 And those who ruled over that lovely domain. 
 And rho' we are severed, those sweet scenes, Amanda, 
 
 And the friends who dispelled the dark clouds of dispair, 
 Will live in this bosom, believe me, forever, 
 
 And in spirit, Amanda, I often am there. 
 
She Seaalifal C^nd of My SirlPi. 
 
 Far away to the North, to the glorious North, 
 
 Lies the beautiful land of my birth. 
 Jehovah's jewels light its dusky dells to-night — 
 
 The loveliest dells of the earth. 
 Bear thy beautiful hills, bonnine land of my dreams, 
 
 While raptur'd thy praises I sing; 
 For my vows ever due I have plighted to you, 
 
 T' thine altar this tribute I bring. 
 
 Far away to the North, to the glorious North, 
 
 In th' strangely -sweet land of m}' song, 
 I have join,d in the strain— the heavenly refrain. 
 
 Of its waters th' sunlight adorn. 
 Ye lily-crown'd lakes of ray own native land. 
 
 Ye mirror the skies I adore, 
 In th' morn's golden light— the purple, dusk of night, 
 
 When th' star-rise drifts dieamily o'er. 
 
 On the flower-f ring'd banks of the isle-gemm'd LaBelle 
 
 Stands th' home of my childhood, to-day; 
 And thy proud waves, LaBelle, toll the requeum knell 
 
 For those who long since passed away. 
 On th' Banks of fair Fowler where the sad fir trees tow'r, 
 
 Where, in graceful grief, the willows sway. 
 Where flow'rs in beauty bloom, illumining the gloom, 
 
 Sleep th' lov'd of my life's happy day. 
 
 In this bright, bonnie land where the blue waters blend 
 
 Ere they flow to th' soft, southern sea. 
 Where bird? sleep in the glades when daylight softly fades, 
 
 There's somebody waiting for me. 
 Her name is Mabel May, she's always blithe and gay — 
 
 Fair as a flow'ret of the dell ; 
 O, her eyes are as bright as th' stars that gem the night, 
 
 As blue as the wayes of LaBelle. 
 
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 Where stately lilacs ware their white and purple plumes, 
 
 Roses and honeysuckles twine; 
 Where kingly locusts spread their fragrant bough overhead, 
 
 In th' City of th' Lakes so sublime. 
 In that lovely retreat, where the glad waters meet, 
 
 And their songs thrill th' sweet summer air; 
 Where, in childhood, 1 play'd ; where, in girlhood, I stray 'd, 
 
 Dwells my Mabel, so merry an' fair. 
 
 I am bidding adieu to the land of the West — 
 
 The scenes my fond bosom holds dear. 
 I shall never forget, and I part, with regret. 
 
 From th' kind friends that welcom'd me here; 
 But the land of my birth is the dearest on earth, 
 
 And there I am longing to be ; 
 Where those I loved best are forever at rest, 
 
 An' my Darling is waiting for me. 
 
So 
 
 
 Dear Sister of the Eastern Star, 
 
 Before me lies thy pictured face ; 
 A face that Time has failM to mar— 
 
 A form of loveliness and grace. 
 
 Blue as th' Violet are thine ejes, 
 
 As smiling as a sunlit sea; 
 Bright as the Star whose brilliant dyes 
 
 Are emblems of our loyalty. 
 
 Of yellow Jasmines woiUd I weave 
 A garland for thy gold-brown hair; 
 
 The Lilies of the Valley wreathe 
 Amid thy tresses rich and rare. 
 
 With fairest Ferns thy path I'd strew. 
 And when thine eyes are clos'd in death. 
 
 The while I take ray last adieu 
 
 I'd place the Ked Rose on thy breast. 
 
 And clust'ring 'round thy snowy brow 
 Should'st glitter ev'ry royal gem ; 
 
 For thou hast kept thy ev'ry vow 
 And won from Heay'n thy diadem. 
 
 I'd lay thee where Rock River's song. 
 Divinely sweet, doth greet the day; 
 
 Where the rosy, radiant morn 
 Lends its earliest, latest ray. 
 
 Upon the brink of that bright shore. 
 
 O'ershadow'd by the stately trees. 
 Where storms and tempests seldom low'r, 
 
 Kiss'd by the morn and ev'niug breeze. 
 
 Where robins sing in sunny bow'is 
 
 Their paeans of eternal praise; 
 Where Spring and Summers's sweetest How'rs 
 
 Would o'er thy bonuie bosom wave. 
 
 There should'st thy lovely form be laid, 
 
-Sl- 
 
 And when the dew of Heaven falls, 
 And winds and birds sleep in the glade,- 
 When twilight, sad, all Nature thralls- 
 
 I'd bring a tribute of my love 
 And lay it fondly at thy feet. 
 
 And pray that in the realms above, 
 Dear Sister, you and I might meet. 
 
 ^o the: §an of f roliibition. 
 
 .^$./w- 
 
 O, Sun of Prohibition, rise, 
 
 Unfurl thy banners to the breeze; 
 Gild these, mine own, my native skies, 
 
 And gild the skies beyond the seas. 
 Our earthly Eden's dark with woe, 
 
 For thee a suffering people sigh; 
 Down to the graye, O, must we go. 
 
 Nor e'er behold thy beams on high? 
 
 O, rise, thou gracious orb, divine; 
 
 Fling o'er the World thy royal rays; 
 Light ev'ry land, aye, ev'ry elime, 
 
 O, give us ffolden, perfect days. 
 Then will the Universal air 
 
 Thrill with the songs of happy hours. 
 And this Elysium, so fair, 
 
 Will bloom with Joy's delightful flow'is. 
 
/Ai5Soari. 
 
 'Twixt two mighty rivers whose proud waters meet, 
 
 Lies an Eden of beauty — a blissful retreat; 
 
 A bower of the cypress, the cedar and pine; 
 
 The glad haunt where sparkles the purple grape wine. 
 
 O'er this home of the fairies th' sweet sunlight streams; 
 
 On the blue Mississippi how brightly it beams; 
 
 On the yellow Missouri's broad, beautiful breast. 
 
 In soft, tranquil splendor its dying rays rest. 
 
 O, come to this Eden at th' dawning of day. 
 
 When the sunbeams are chasing the shadows away — 
 
 When dew-drops, like diamonds, its beauty adorn. 
 
 And the music of redbirds rejoiceth the morn. 
 
 When from meadow and hill-top the mocking bird's notes 
 
 Over mountain and valley in melody floats. 
 
 When th* flowers are blooming, when glad waters flow. 
 
 And the wild, wanton zephyrs sigh softly and low. 
 
 O, come to this Eden at th' sweet twilight hour. 
 When all nature is petisive— enthralled by its pow'r; 
 When the dew-drops are falling like tears of regret; 
 When th' fair flowers languish, the sad waters fret. 
 When th' spell, too, is broken by th' whipporwill's song: 
 And the notes of the cricket in numbers prolonged; 
 When the minstrels of morning and th' mockingbirds sleep; 
 Where th' cypress grieves alway and th'lone willows weep. 
 
 O, come to this Eden, with th' charming night, come — 
 Flee away from life's sorrows — th' world's busy hum, 
 To this romantic region where Pleasure doth reign. 
 Whilst th' rivers ?ire singing their joyful refrain. 
 When the moonbeams are lighting the shadowy strands, 
 And th' fairies are dancing on the gold-yellow sands; 
 When in all the blue heavens the slJars twinkle bright, 
 And th' breezes are slumb'ring in th' bosom of night. 
 
 O, come to this Eden, with sweet, smiling Spring, 
 When Its vineyards are budding — its rivulets sing: 
 When th' locusts are waving, and the leaves of the trees 
 Whisper softly and gently to th' birds and th' bees. 
 
-S3" 
 
 Thro' th' forests of maple and walnut we'll roam; 
 Thro' the forests of cypress, the humming bird's home; 
 Thro" th' deepest recesses of the oak and the elm; 
 Thro' th' forests of poplar and th' evergreen realm, 
 
 O, come to this Eden with Summer's bright bloom. 
 Come. O, come, with the apples and roses of June, 
 And when led are the cherries as the roses we twine; 
 When the gold'n grain graces this fair land of mine. 
 Thro' th' tall, waving grasses we'll joyfully go, 
 To th' hills and the valleys, where the blackberries grow; 
 Where the orchards are bending with peaches and pears; 
 To the hay-scented meadows— away from life's cares. 
 
 O. come to this Eden when Autumn is crown'd 
 With its garland of crimson, gold, russet and brown; 
 When the orchards are laden with loveliest fruit, 
 And th' <'Hdence of zephyrs are soft as the lute. 
 Thro' th' raspberry thickets tr»gether we'll stray, 
 Where the plum trees are standing so bonnie and gay; 
 Thro' th' erabapple copses, to the lair fields of corn. 
 When th' tassels are shining in the rays of th' morn. 
 
 O. come to this Eden when Winter doth reign — 
 
 To this world- renowned region— Missouri's its name — 
 
 To the great Iron Mountain — its beauty behold ; 
 
 Its marvelous lead mines, its treasures untold. 
 
 O'er the snow-mantled mountains we'll merrily rove; 
 
 Thro' ice-jeweled forests, thro' woodland and groves; 
 
 Thro' i-avines and thro' valleys, o'er meadows and hills, 
 
 To th' lakes and the fountains, the rives and rills. 
 
So 
 
 I'm gazing on thy portrait tliro' 
 A mist of tears ; grateful tears which 
 Spring from the golden fountain of 
 My soul. Time hath not robbed thee 
 Of thy beauty, O, fair an' stalwart 
 Son of fair an' sunny France; kingly 
 In face and form, in mind and heart. 
 Thou tower'st a monarch amid 
 Thy fellow men. Many noble 
 Sons hath thy proud land produced, 
 But never yet a nobler. The 
 Creator fashioned thee of 
 Nature's best, therefore thou art a 
 Stranger to the grosser vices of 
 Thy sex. Accept my thanks for this, 
 Thy gift; forever shall it grace 
 And beautify my home and lend 
 Its Itistre to my lonely life. 
 
§ong. 
 
 Along th' banks of th' bonnie Bayou 
 I'm strolling, on this sunn}' day; 
 
 But long ago I bade adieu 
 To all the joys of meny May. 
 
 Sweet are the songs these birdlings sing 
 Around this brighty bovver'd shore. — 
 
 In brighter bow'rs more sweetly ring 
 The songs my birdlings sang of yore. 
 
 Fair flow'rets blossom at my feet, 
 But in the Garden of the West 
 
 My flow'rets bloom, more fair and sweet, 
 By His celestial rays caress'd. 
 
 Wavelets are waltzing in their glee, 
 By balmy breezes softly fann'd.— 
 
 My wavelets waltz more blithe and free, 
 Kiss'd by the breeze of Wonderland. 
 
 Like sentries stand these stately trees. 
 As if to guard these treasures given. 
 
 There sentinels more stern than these 
 Eear their majestic forms to Heav'n. 
 
 Along th' banks of th' bonnie Bayou 
 Sad Twilight bids adieu to Day, 
 
 But oh! I ne'er can bid adieu 
 To those dear Treasures far away. 
 
j^ines Written on the: lDe:ath of an Infant. 
 
 My sweet, fragile flow 'ret faded while o'er this fairy land 
 
 Melodious winds were chanting soft and low; 
 While September skies were gilding the valley of the Grand ; 
 
 Then my bonnie blossom wither'd in the glow. 
 While yet the birds were warbling in the green and shady bow'rs, 
 
 And the butterflies were flitting thro' the air; 
 While overall the valley grill smiled the summer flow'rs, 
 
 And the busy bees were humming ev'ry*vhere. 
 
 And oh, how oft I'm dreaming of that dark and dreary day 
 
 When the flow'r I fondly cherish'd eeas'd to bloom; 
 Of that day so sad and sombre, so gloomy and so gray. 
 
 When they laid ray tiny treasure in the tomb. 
 For altho' the winds were singing their symphonies divine. 
 
 And the Autumn «kies shone softly and serene. 
 Strange shadows hovered over this lovely land of mine, — 
 
 All the world had lost its beauty and its sheen. 
 
 She is sleeping on th' hillside, and I know she sweetl}'' sleepr=, 
 
 For the winds and waters sing her lullaby. 
 Her little mound is water'd by the dew that nightly weep?. 
 
 While the solemn stars are watching from the sky. 
 There moonbeams love to linger, and 'tis there the suntjeams rest 
 
 Stately trees, like sentii^s, guard her sunny grave, 
 While shelt'ring hills are pointing to that bright Land of the 
 Blest, 
 
 Where no blighting storms will ever, ever rave. 
 
iDreaming. 
 
 I am dreaming, dear Frank, of a land far away; 
 
 A beautiful land by the murmuring seas, 
 Where the odorous roses are blooming to-day, 
 
 And the June sunbeams dance on the hills and th' leas. 
 Now the fair foam-fringed billows embrace that bright shore, 
 
 And th' sea breeze is kissing our own native land 
 While the bold bluffs and forests of pine tower o'er 
 
 The sea-marks and ships on the rude, rocky strand. 
 
 And I'm dreaming, dear Frank, of our once happy home 
 
 On th' sweet-shaded banks of the lily-lit lake. 
 'Twas there, spiiukled like stars, the gay buttercups shone; 
 
 There the bright, bonnie bluebells bespangl'd the brake. 
 Now the buttercups shine and the bluebells do gleam 
 
 Where dwelt all the dear ones remember'd so well; 
 And altho' they are gonp, still thej'^ live in my dream 
 
 On th' blossoming banks of the lovely LaBelle. 
 
 And Fm dreaming, dear Fiank, of the old maple wood 
 
 Whose dusky aisles echoed the bluebird's sweet song; 
 Of the lone, mossy moor, where the tamaracs stood; 
 
 Where th** wintergreen berries grew spicy and strong. 
 Now the bluebirds are singing as sweetly as then. 
 
 The wintergreen berries like sea-corals shine, 
 And the stately trees wave in the woodland and fen. 
 
 In our fair northern home of th' myrtle and vine. 
 
 And I'm dreaming, dear Frank, of the glorious hills 
 And th' glittering dells, where so often we stray 'd. 
 
 Of the glades and the glens, and the blue lakes and rills- 
 All th' pleasant resorts where together we played. 
 
 O, BOW we are wandering in wretched unrest. 
 Nevermore to revisit th' scenes of our mirth ; 
 
 But loyal will we be to the land we love best— 
 The bright, bonnie, beautiful land of our birth. 
 
So 
 
 Dear Brother of tlie mystic tie, 
 
 The glad New-Year is come again; 
 
 Still Bethlehem's Star illumes the sky 
 
 With Friendship's beams, my dear Montayne. 
 
 That dazzlinic orb of Love divine 
 
 Will gem the brovr of night, 
 And I shall dream of thee and thine 
 
 The while I basii beneath its light. 
 
 Whilst Hope shall point with ray sercae 
 To that bright realm of endless day, 
 
 Where Heav'n's eternal glories gleam 
 And fadeless Howers bloom alvvay. 
 
 Dear, faithful friend, the by-gone years 
 Have brought thee lauiels for thy brow; 
 
 The widow's sighs, the orphan's tears 
 Have changed to smiles, blest b}^ thy vow. 
 
 Sweet Charity stands at thy gates 
 
 To minister to Grief and Care, 
 Whilst Gratitude, impatient, waits 
 
 To sing thy pi'aises ev'rywhere. 
 
 Long maj^'st thou live, the world to bless, 
 T' welcome many a glad New-Year, 
 
 And health and wealth and friends possess. 
 And all that renders life most dear. 
 
 And when, at last, thou'rt call'd above, 
 In truth's delightful realms to roam, 
 
 O, may that gracious Star of Love 
 Light thee to thy eternal home. 
 
§tar of the Sast. 
 
 [Published in Voice oi Masonry, Chicago, 111 , July, 1885.] 
 
 Star of the East! thy rays divine 
 Illume this dark and dreary bow'r. * 
 
 From ev'ry point thy beauties shine 
 In mystic words of magic pow'r. 
 
 Immortal Guests! Ye are enthoron'd 
 Where Love and Charity hold sway, 
 
 Whilst Grief, with sighs and tears, bemoan 
 The horrors of that gloomy day— 
 
 When Adah, for her father's sake. 
 Her sweet, young life a ransom gave 
 
 And firm and dauntless met her fate, 
 Alas ! for one so true and brave. 
 
 And Euth ! sad gleaner of the fields. 
 With irksome cares and grief oppressed. 
 
 Thy history to us reveals 
 The faith that won thee joy and rest. 
 
 Fair Esther! Persia's Peerless Queen! 
 
 Noblest of Sovereign— best belov'd. 
 Thy loyalty inspires ray theme. 
 
 Thy loving reign kind Heav'n approv'd. 
 
 Bring flow^'rs, sweet flow'rs, of virgin white, 
 For Martha weave a garland fair. 
 
 Adorn her with a wreath of Light- 
 She Wept For Him Who Slumber'd There. 
 
 For Heroism and Truth sublime 
 The brightest laurels of the soul, 
 
 Electa's name will ever shine— 
 'Twill live whilst countless ages roll. 
 
 Fair emblems of our hoiior'd dead, 
 Thy brilliant hues to us are g-iv'n 
 To bid us Hope when joy is fled 
 And cheer the Mason's path to Heav'n. 
 
-30- 
 
 Celegtial Star! shine on for aye— 
 Crown-jew'l in Friendship's diadem, 
 
 And guide with thy effulgent ray 
 The daughters and the sons of men. 
 
 For life is dark and drear with pain 
 To those who mourn, however brave, 
 
 And Sorrow chants her sad refrain 
 In notes divine o'er Mem'ry's grave. 
 
 Star of the East! thy rays divine 
 Illume this dark and dreary bow'r. 
 
 From ev'ry point thy beauties shin* 
 In mystic words of magic pow'r. 
 
We /Aet, and ^oved, and farted. 
 
 We met ia that sweet sunbright land 
 Inhiid with gold and jewelH fair; 
 
 Where giant crags tow'r ster n and grand ; 
 Where flow'rs bloom ever rich and rare. 
 
 Whew wooing waves and wanton winds 
 Sing in dim canons soft and sweet; 
 
 Where swaj the pad and solemn pines; 
 Where snowy heights and clouds do meet. 
 
 We met b}' chance— th' usual way— 
 
 At Kiver Bend, one April eve; 
 The closing of a cloudless day, — 
 
 Whilst Grief her sombre tho'ts did weave. 
 
 Whilst spectral shadows softly crept 
 Athwart the hamlet's lonely plain; 
 
 Whilst Flora's starry flowers slept. 
 And zephyrs sigh'd as if in pain. 
 
 When twilight deepen'd into night 
 
 We stroird beneath the blazing stars; 
 While down to Earth in fond delight 
 
 Fair Luna flung her flaming bars- 
 Lighting the mountain and the mere, 
 
 The distant groyes, the dusky leas- 
 All things in nature, far and near, 
 
 And woke the gong-birds in the trcs. 
 
 Illumining njy lover's face; 
 
 The dark g;ray eyes that on me shone; 
 The handsome form of careless grace; 
 
 The one I lov'd, and^loved alone — 
 
 Whose winning smiles my bosom thrilPd — 
 
 Intoxicated me like wine; 
 Whose whisper'd words nij pulses stilTd— 
 
 Entranc'd my soul with bliss divine. 
 
 But there we met, alas! to part. 
 
-3S- 
 
 And uovv 1 sing my dreary doom 
 From DOtes engraven on my heart, 
 Sad as the strains of Bonnie Doon. 
 
 Adieu, Adieu, Land of the West; 
 
 Aaieu, bright land enthron'd and gemm'd; 
 Thou'lt live for aye in this fond breast, 
 So will my Love of Kiver Bend. 
 
 Oelober. 
 
 October's come to reign! 
 Arrayed in gorgeous robes whose heavenly 
 Hues are radiant as the rainbow's richest dyes. 
 Celestial are the colors of his coronal; 
 Refulgent as th' roj'^al tints of June's i-esplendent 
 Skies. His raiment woven in sweet sun -lit woodlnnd.-^, 
 Is 'broidered o'er with virgin gold bestowed 
 By Heaven's loving rays. His diadem spangled 
 With purest gems reveals in part the glory of 
 Jehovah's realm. 
 
 Hail to thee, October! 
 Autumn's peerless ruler! Heaven's glorious beams 
 That now delight us, will lose their briliancy when 
 Thou art gone. O'er all this lovely land the starry 
 Flowers are shining; when thou shalt leave they, too, will 
 Wither from the sad and smileless Earth. Beautifid 
 Waters that now do sing and dance beneath thy smile 
 Will weep at thy departure, and the happy winds 
 That kiss thy princely brow will wail thy requium 
 Dirffe. 
 
(Colorado. 
 
 Know ye the land vvhere the g-rand mountains rise 
 Triumphant, exultant, to greet the blue skies; 
 The gems of whose coronets sparkle and shine 
 Like pearls of the ocean or gems of the mine. 
 
 Know ye the Land where the green forests wave; 
 Where sky-loving waters their sunny strands lave; 
 Where th' elk and the deer and the antelope play; 
 Where countless birds gladden the gay, golden day? 
 
 Know ye the Land where the dew never falls; 
 Where Twilight, sweet Twilight, the spirit enthralls; 
 Where life-giving fountains flow forth uncontrolled ; 
 Where th' heaven- kissed hills are of green and of gold? 
 
 Know ye the Land where the giant crags tow'r; 
 Where Flora, profusely, her sweet blossoms show'r; 
 Where the fairies disport on the flow'r-spangl'd lawn; 
 Where th' night's wondrous splendor ne'er wanes till the dawn? 
 
 Know ye the Land where the vineyards do smile; 
 Where I he valleys are fair as the vale of the Nile; 
 Where deep canons echo the cayote's shrill cry; 
 Where tall cliffs rear, proudly, their forms to the sky? 
 
 Know ye the Land where the buffaloes roam ; 
 Where bold, merry hunters do make it their home; 
 Where th' cattle are dotting thejiills and the plaine; 
 Where th' lofty rocks ring with the cow-boy's refrain? 
 
 Know ye the Land where the bright jewels gleam; 
 Where the sad love to dwell, and'th' bai'd loves to dream, 
 Enthron'd in its beauty, above the blue sea. 
 Whose winds, like its waters, are happy and free? 
 
 Know ye the Land, fam'd in story and song, 
 
 Where Science, proud Science, smiles back on the throng; 
 
 Where th' bluest of Heavens in benison bend; 
 
 Where th' Earth and the Heavens their glories do blend? 
 
-34- 
 
 Knovv ye the Land — the World's roj^al retreat! 
 The sweet realm of song, and of sunshine replete, 
 Where th' loved of my soul in their innocence dwell; 
 Where, in anguish of spirit, I bade them farewell? 
 
 O, belov'd Colorado! Thou Garden of God! 
 How often thy beautiful paths I have trod. 
 Dear Father, whilst guarding that Eden of Thine, 
 O, do Thou remember those dear ones of mine. 
 
 giWeet /Aemory. 
 
 Sweet Mem'r}', on thy mystic tide 
 
 I've launch'd my fairy bark once more. 
 Thou'h bear me o'er thj^ waters wide. 
 
 Far from yon darkly-shadow'd shore 
 Where I have w^atched my stars grow pale; 
 
 My Sun in night eternal set; 
 Fair Luna's face forever veiled; 
 
 That rayless shore I would forget. 
 
 I'm floating on thy sparkling stream ; 
 
 I'm drifting with thy wooing waves 
 To that fair haven of my dreams — 
 
 That blest retreat of by- gone days. 
 Bound for that land of gold and gems, 
 
 Enthrou'd above the shining sea. 
 Whose shining skies in beauty bend 
 
 Above the scenes so dear to me. 
 
 In thy fair waves I see a face 
 
 Whose pow'r and passion won my heart — 
 A manly form, of matchless grace; 
 
 The Heav'n from which I ne'er can part. 
 Thy depths are jeweled with the joys 
 
 I buried on that dreary day 
 When Hope, bright bird, its pinions pois'd 
 
 And sadly flew to realms away. 
 
-35- 
 
 Thou magic stream? E'en whilst I muse 
 
 Thy shifting lights and shades attune — 
 So dark and dazzling are their hues — 
 
 My soul to gladness and to gloom. 
 Serene and smiling are thy skies, 
 
 Yet have they rain'd regretful tears. 
 How fast thy clouds ean freight and rise 
 
 And flood the fountains of the years. 
 
 O, Memory! in all thy moods, 
 
 1 love thee with impassioned, pow'r, 
 And on thy tide, where none obtrude, 
 
 Spend many a mournful, mirthful hour. 
 The music of thy million mirthful waves 
 
 Break ever on that sun-kiss'd strand. 
 Thy billows chant, from gay to grave. 
 
 The glories of that gorg'ous land. 
 
 '^was '^h^r^ We A<\d to §ay ^arewdl. 
 
 'Twas in the bonnie month of May, 
 
 In Terra- Cotta's lovely groves. 
 Thro' whose bright boughs the sunbeams play; 
 
 Thro' whose lov'd haunts the Kansas flows; 
 We stray'd, in sorrow, side by side, 
 
 Nor reck'd we that the raindrops fell 
 Fast as the tears I stroye to hide, 
 
 For there we met to say farewell. 
 
 The river sang its sad refrain — 
 
 To melody its waves were giv'n; 
 But naught reck'd I the river's strain. 
 
 For oh! my heart with grief was riv'n; 
 Besides, the music of his voice 
 
 Had spoil'd me for the river's song— 
 Those master tones! I still rejoice 
 
 As Mem'rv trills them sweet and strong. 
 
-36- 
 
 For hours we PtroU'd beside the stream, 
 
 And it was sweet to linger there, 
 Tho' murrn'ring winds disturb'd my dream 
 
 And wail'd the dirge to my dispair. 
 We talk'd of joys our bosoms shrined, 
 
 When in that fair land of the West, 
 Like vesper-bells, our hearts had chimed; 
 
 When we were so supremely blest. 
 
 We parted at the twilight hour — 
 
 The hour when happy lovers meet; 
 But on my heart still prays the povv'r — 
 
 The pow'r that was to me so sweet; 
 And when the trysting hours return, 
 
 And twilight stars salute the night, 
 For his lov'd presence then I yearn, 
 
 And on my spirit falls a blight. 
 
 O, could I but forever quell 
 
 And stay the torrent of my heart. 
 Then would I pen the word ''farewell," 
 
 For Fate has doom'd us twain to part. 
 But as my native rivers roll 
 
 To mingle with the Southern Sea, 
 So doth the current of my soul 
 
 Flow ever, dearest Love, to thee. 
 
{sFellie Whitney. 
 
 There's a land clivinelj fair, deck'd with gold and jewels rare, 
 
 Where the billows break in music on the shore; 
 Where the breezes sing and play all the pleasant, dreamy day; 
 
 Where^shimmerinfi' skies bend softly, sweetly o'er, 
 And in that glorious land, on Pacific' golden strand, 
 
 They laid Nellie, darling Nellie, down to sleep. 
 Where the music of the Sea, blent with Zephyr's melody, 
 
 Will forever o'er her grave sublimely sweep. 
 
 9 
 
 Pure and fair as any liow'r of that semi-tropic bow'r 
 
 Was this merry, dark-eyed maiden of my song, 
 And her genius shone afar like the brilliant morning star. 
 
 Like the mockingbird she sang, both sweet and strong. 
 But she withered in the shine of that sun-kiss'd land divine, 
 
 While the winter sky beamed strangely soft and bright; 
 While myriad flowers shone with a splendor all their own; 
 
 While countless songsters cai oiled with delight. 
 
 And she faded all too soon, like the rose that dies in June; 
 
 While Hope's gayest flow'rs were springing at her feet. 
 Oh! who would not heave a sigh, for it was so sad to die, 
 
 In the sunshine of her youth so wond'rous sweet. 
 Plant the flow'is she lov'd the best on the turf above her breast. 
 
 Of the cypress and thefmyrtle weave her name. 
 O'er her fair, unsullied grave let the laurel proudly wave: 
 
 It will whisper, ever whisper, of her fame. 
 
In ^wiligM }ioar. 
 
 Published in Voice of Masonry, July, 1885. 
 
 O'er the low-lying western hills the golden orb 
 of Day has set in splendor ; and now sweet Twi- 
 light comes and flings her dusky mantle o'er the 
 dreaming city ^'Oconomowoc," the far-famed City 
 of the Lakes, fair Fowler and LaBelle. 
 
 Nature is hushed in dreamy languor. Not a 
 ripple stirs yon isle-gemmed lake, save when 
 some water-fowl skims athwart its lovely bosom. 
 Beautiful LaBelle ! along thy sunny strand pebbles 
 and shells, like pearls and opals, gleam. Upon thy 
 mossy banks the blushing honeysuckles bend their 
 graceful heads as if in grief or shame. Laden 
 with purple bloom, the clambering grape vines 
 twine themselves around the stalwart monarchs of 
 the wood in amorous delight. 
 
 Listen to the robin calling to its mate — the sad 
 croaking of the frogs — the cricket's mournful song ; 
 whilst over all the gentle dews of Heaven descend, 
 like angels' tears falling to the Earth in benediction. 
 
 Belle of the Waters ! thou mirrorest back the 
 billowy hills where the blue forget-me nots and ti- 
 ger lilies grow ; the dim old forest, peopled with its 
 million songsters — the sunrise and the sunset — the 
 lightning and the tempest ! On thy tranquil breast 
 
-39- 
 
 the snowy lilies sleep— waxen lilies — sad remem- 
 brances of snowy hands clasping Love's pathetic 
 flowers. 
 
 This is the trysting-hour when happy lovers 
 meet and pledge their vows anew ; when the glad 
 firelight streams from happy homes into the com- 
 ing night and greets returning wanderers ; thrice 
 blessed hour, when Joy and Love clasped in each 
 other's arms, unite in benison. 
 
 This is the mystic hour when on Memory's 
 pitiless waves we're backward borne, and oh ! so 
 sorrowfully, so mournfully, we resurrect the past. 
 
 This is the hour we *'open graves" we deemed 
 were closed foreyer, and in their shadowy depths 
 our tears fall silently. 
 
 This is the hour when Sorrow's sombre walks 
 are thronged with stern and vain regrets ; when we 
 recall with penitential tears the hasty words in an- 
 ger spoken to those we fondly loved, who, wearied 
 with Life's battle, lay down within the silence of 
 the grave to rest. Where yonder willows sigh and 
 sway in graceful grief, my loved ones sleep ! In 
 fancy's mystic realm each dear, familiar face and 
 form appears unveiled before me. I see my father, 
 grand and stately as the pines that grace my glori- 
 ous northern home, with lofty brow and eyes of 
 crystal light, blue as thy limpid waves, La-Belle, 
 that mirror back the jeweled heavens. I see my 
 frank young mother in her rich, dark beauty — 
 sweet daughter of "The Sunny South" — herself as 
 pure as any flower that ever graced Virginia's soil. 
 My brothers, sisters, all, come trooping around me 
 
-4:0- 
 
 with their curls of gold and eyes of azure hue, and 
 joy for them, and pity for a sorrowing world is all 
 that's left for me. Sweet Hour Sublime I the 
 Night is coming on ; Imperial Night ! with all its 
 host of glittering stars. The lake that less than 
 one short hour ago lay sleeping like an infant on 
 its mother*s breast, now sings its glad refrain ; 
 with eafjer joy its moonlit billows kiss the shore ; 
 the slumbering World so lately held in thrall by 
 thy mysterious power springs into busy life once 
 more. Farewell, Sweet Twilight Hour, Farewell.