Class _E_o:352^ Gopyright}J°-J^M. COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. DAY DREAMS By CARRIE R. MINKLER r ,^« Copyrighted by Carrie R. Minklkr October, 1')()'» ©CI.A251700 ^ /e {^:P/■■^'^-'A^^<^ Qla tiu Mnnat^ at HJij Irluur^ iaughtpr INDEX PAGE. The Harbor Bar 11 By the Sea 13 Life 15 Fear Not 18 Fragment 19 Memory 19 The Lovers 0\^er the Way 21 Dropping- Out of Sight 23 The Ragged Coat 25 The King's Daughters . .- 27 The Old Looking Glass 28 In the West 30 W^atching the Old Year Out 33 Life's Problems 35 Divorced 37 The Bal Masque 39 If 41 A Retrospect 43 By and By 45 May 47 Air Castles 48 How Long? 50 Wdiat the W^ind Said 51 The LTnbidden Guest 53 The Old House 54 Fragment 58 An Old Maid's Story 59 L^p and Down 61 The Folks in the Corner House 63 INOEX— Contii^ued. PAGE. Fairy Bells 66 The Old Settlers' Reunion 68 Doubt Not 71 Our Church Workers 7?) Day Dreams 74 Over the Way 76 October 78 Pictures in the Coals 80 The Land of Nod 82 Weeds 83 The Flag- We Made 85 The Soldiers' Re-Union 88 Story of the Tramp 91 "We have weathered the storm," the captain said, "I can see the harbor hght. And those tossing- waves point out the l)ar, We shall sleep at home to-night." And the seamen smiled at the captain's words And thought of their firesides warm. And the waiting wives on the nearing shore. That haven from wind and storm. But the sun sank down in angry clouds. And never a gleaming star Shone through the fog, wdiile mountain high Rolled the waves on the harbor l)ar. None heard the shrieks from drowning li])s, O'er the breakers awful roar, But the longing eyes on the shtM'e shall see The good ship never more; And ne\'er a dead face floated up On the ocean's heavy swell. For the treacherous sand of the harbc^r bar Holdeth its secrets well. Not a soul' was saved the sad, sad news To carry to friends afar. Some bits of wreck, and the tale was told — "Gone down on the harbor bar." Day Dreams " We are almost there," the fisherman cried, *'And we shall be glad, my men, To ride in the harbor snug and safe, Away from the storms again !" And the fisherman smiled at his happy luck. And counted his treasures o'er, And thousiht of the warm hearts waitins: now To welcome him back to shore. God help the fishermen ! seamen bold, For the winds blow wild and far, And between the boat and the lights of home. Break the waves on the harbor bar. And the days shall pass and storms shall sweep. But never, ah, never more. In the harbor snug and the harbor safe Shall the fisher-boat touch the shore; For the waves toss high and fog-horns blow. And never a pitying star Looks down to weep o'er the awful fate — " Capsized on the harbor bar." Alas! for the ships with snowy sails That have skimmed the ocean o'er. And the steamers with precious human freight That have braved the breakers' roar. To sink in the sight of home and hope, AMiile winds blow wild and far, And mountain waves shriek out the tale — " \\'recked on the harbor bar." 12 Da\ D reams Alas ! for the wives that weep alone In the desolated home. And the eyes that are dim from watching long For the ships that never come. Ah ! when the sea gives up its dead At the sound of the trump afar, Many a loyal heart and true Will rise from the harbor bar. BY THE SEA. Blow, winds, blow, And hasten the good ship that's coming, I know, With the true heart on board that will claim me his bride, Wlien the morrow shall dawn in its splendor and pride; The black night is coming, the wild weaves grow rough. But I've builded a beacon fire high on the bluff. To guide them safe into the haven below. And by this time the staunch ship has anchored, I know. Beat, waves, beat, Ye cannot affright me with storm nor with sleet, Since I know that my sailor is safe on the shore. With flying feet hastening to greet me once more. The black night is coming. O ! hasten, my love, Ere the storm blots the stars from their watching above. 13 Day Dreams Moan, winds, moan. My darling is coming, I fear not your tone. For in all the wide world there is nothing so sweet, As for hearts that love truly and fondly to meet. We are done now forever with parting and pain ; No dark waves can roll 'twixt our two hearts again. Sob, waves, sob. If ye take not my true love, ye never can rob My heart of its joy, nor darken with gloom — Hark! the sound that I hear — is it thunder? — the boom Idiat comes with its solemn sound over the sea? I hear it again and again — can it be? — Just heavens ! hear the shouting, the good ship is lost ! Lashed by the waves, by the wild tempest tossed. Blow, winds, blow. Ye can do no more harm on the wide earth, I know. Blow out the beacon fire, 'twas builded in vain — Scatter the embers o'er sea and o'er plain — Idiere is nothing on earth that is worth while to save Since he has gone down in the gloom of the grave. Hasten, O night, Spread thy dark mantle o'er all that is bright, Blot out the town with its great blinking eyes That are daring to shine while my dead darling lies In the loathsome embrace of the treacherous sea, Wdiose wild waves are waiting and beckoning to me. 14 Day Dreams Hide, stars, hide. Thy pitiless stare from the desolate bride ; Brazen moon, hide from sight thy merciless face. That saw when he sank to the deadly embrace; That saw and yet made no effort to save When the good ship sank down to a watery grave. Nevermore Shall I wait for my love by the solemn seashore ; Nevermore — ah, heaven ! that footstep I hear ! Can the sea yield its dead? Ah, the anguish and fear Fly quickly away at the sound of his voice! He is safe! he has come! and my heart may rejoice. Blow, winds, blow. With a g'entle caress for the waves as you go ; Bright stars look upon us with beauty and pride ; The earth is so pleasant with him by my side. Fair moon, veil no longer your face from our sight. For tempest nor storm can dim the fair night. LIFE. Like a tireless river flowing On towards the broad sea going, Sweeping over bush and pebble. Chanting its melodious treble — 15 Day Dreams Growing- deeper, stronger, colder, Leaping over rock and l^oulder, — Pausing not and never resting, Time and tide nnfearing, breasting, Flecks of foam its bosom cresting, Sucb is life. Like a ship with white sails spreading Mountain waves with proud keel treading On towards the harbor sweeping, O'er the dancing billows leaping, While afar the breakers roaring Where the sullen waters pouring, Strive in vain their power of wrecking. Still aloft the proud flag decking- Waves above the white foam flecking, Such is life. So I sang in life's bright morning, Rainbow tints the sky adorning; Ah ! how strange, the slow years creeping, Nothing brought but pain and weeping. Vain regret and vainest sorrow And a dread of each to-morrow ; Like a tiresome sullen river On whose banks the rushes shiver, And the tall dank grasses quiver. Such is life. 16 Day Dreams Like a ship with no one steering. Swift the dreaded breakers nearing. Rudder gone and torn sails flapping. And the hungry waters lapping — Silent, swift the white foam creeping While each soul on board is sleeping, Such is life when love in leaving Nothing left but hopeless grieving And a soul of unbelieving, Such is life. Life is lost when love has missed it. Sorrow's pallid lips have kissed it, And it knows the whole of trouble; Hope is vain and darkness double; Without love its blessing giving Life, so little worth the living Stretcheth out in desert fashion Haunted by the ghosts of passion. Mocked by mirage, torn by doubting, Hope of peace hereafter scouting; Life is lost when love in leaving Nothing left but vainest grieving And a soul of unbelieving, Such is life. 17 Day Dreams FEAR NOT. I was an hungered, and none could give, That my fainting soul might eat and hve ; I was athirst, and church nor creed, Could reach the source of my spirit's need ; When lo! from on high, God's sunlight pierced through the shadows dread, And my soul with the bread of life was fed; And w^aters of peace flowed by. I was affrighted ; the night was dark, And billow^s were raging around my bark; Drifting afar from the peaceful shore, I could hear the breakers' sullen roar; When lo ! from on high, God's sunlight pierced through the clouds at will And a small voice whispered : ''Peace ; be still" ; And the tempest passed me by. Ah ! soul fear not ; no harm can befall, For one there is who reigneth o'er all, Who holdeth the waves in his gentle hand. And the winds obey his mild command; And lo! from on high, His sunlight can pierce through the darkest gloom, And lighten the shadows around the tomb, And hasten the tempest by. 18 Day Dreams FRAGMENT. -When the morn with dewy hngers, Sweeps aside the vail of night. And wnth rosy bUishes beaming. First appears upon our sight — Peeping o'er the eastern hih-tops. Starry ranks retreat before. And the earth, with new-born glory Wakes to busy life once more. But far brighter than the morning Are my darling's starry eyes. And the song birds in the thicket Whistle notes of soft surprise When her morning carol ringing Wakes the echoes in the skies. ME]\IORY. The happiest songs are ringing To-day through memory's halls. And beautiful pictures gleaming Again from the darkened \valls ; The sunlight, with magic fingers, Has brushed from each pictured face. The dust of the weary summers That had hidden their wondrous grace. 19 Day Dreams And again in their olden beauty They gleam on my longing sight, And the weary years flow backward, Like the flow of a summer night ; And I see a low roofed cottage That stands by a silver stream, And watch for the tiny fishes That under the waters gleam. And I see a fair haired maiden, Alone at the lattice bars, \Wi\\ cheeks like the blush of roses, And eyes like the summer stars ; And the music of childish laughter On the Sabbath stillness swells, And sounds to the waiting maiden Like the tinkle of fairy bells. And I reach my arms to clasp her. The maid with the starry eyes, But again the vision fadeth, Like a dream of paradise ; And the old, old pain comes o'er me, When I see, in the years now flown, The maiden with sunny tresses To a stately matron grown. For not in my home she reigneth. And a touch of the olden pain Comes back as the vision fadeth. And naught but the clouds remain; 20 Day Dreams Tis only the old, old story Told over a thousand fold ; The heart that I deemed as faithful Was bought by another's gold. I rise from my dreaming sadly. With a sigh for the heart untrue. And wonder if from faith's ashes Hope ever can rise anew ; Ah ! yes, for the hand all healing. That hath darkened memory's halls, And hidden the fairy pictures That hang on the crumbling walls, Can hasten the wondrous healing. And sooth from my heart the pain, And make the desert blossom Like the fairest rose again. THE LOVERS OVER THE WAY. I watch the lovers over the way Till my own sad heart grows young and gay ; They sit each night in the window seat When no one has thought to lower the blind, A picture of love and trust complete Which they in their happiness do not mind, Unheeding the fact that curious eyes Are watching them now with sweet surprise. 21 Day Dreams The lovers over the way are fair. She is a fairy with golden hair ; And he is stalwart and brave I know, And he gazes upon her with fondest pride — And I see her blushes come and go As his strong arm draws her to his side. Then I turn away, for I will not seem To pry in the secrets of love's young dream. I watch the lovers over the way Till my heart goes back to a distant day, And I think of the lover brave and young \Mio sat with me in the window seat Till our land o'er which the war clouds hung Shook with the tread of marching feet ; He went to the wars, and I watched in vain For the one who never came back again. I look at the lovers over the way And pray that their lot may be bright and gay, While with aching heart and tearful eyes I think of the soldier sleeping now. His face turned up to the southern skies And the laurel wreath on the marble brow, But I know that over the jasper sea My lover is waiting to welcome me. The lovers over the way are wed And gone, and their house looks grim and dead, The bishop with robe and book of prayer And surplice of state came dowm one night, 22 Day Dreams And I caught a g-linipse of the bridal pair Her flush of joy and his fond deh'ght. And I thanked my God with tearful eyes For that fleeting glimpse of paradise. DROPPING OUT OF SIGHT. In the world around us All the hopes and fears — All the life-boats drifting On the tide of years — Drift but for a season. Through the waning light, Then like wrecks of ocean Dropping out of sight. Comes the joyous spring-time From the winter's gloom. Mongrel tints are deep'ning Into fragrant bloom — Filling for a season Hearts with rare delight. Then with added splendor Dropping out of sight. Roses bloom and wither. Soft winds come and go. Saddest change is written Over all below ; 23 Day Dreams Dearest hopes that thrilled us \A'ith their beauty bright, Like the twilight shadows Dropping out of sight. Like a brilliant meteor Flashing through the clouds ■ Shines a loyal spirit O'er the swaying crowds — Only for a season Dazzling through the night, Then without a warning Dropping out of sight. Stand we on the borders Of the better land, Shadow'y forms before us Wave a beckoning hand; One by one we're coming From the shores of night — From the friends that love us. Dropping out of sight. Shall we when we gather In the ''mansions fair" — When our w^earied spirits Drop the masks they wear — See the cares crushed us With their chilling blight. All the grief and sorrow Dropping out of sight. 24 Day Dreams THE RAGGED COAT. An old ragged coat, not deforming, Init hiding The true kingly spirit beneath it abiding; You may see it each day on the street with its wearer. And to me a good broadcloth could never be fairer. Though I know not the name of the owner at meeting, I know that beneath it a warm heart is beating". I saw the old coat on the street one sharp morning When jack-frost was abroad with his fairy adorning; Just before me a beggar, a forlorn little maiden. Whose bare toes peeped out wnth frost bites o'erladen. Was shivering and crouching by the wall for protection. When a shiny broadcloth came down that direction, With gold-headed cane and glossy black beaver ; Thought 1, there's an angel come down to relie\e her. The shivering- blue fingers were stretched (^ut imploring. But the broadcloth passed on, the mute figure ignc^ring ; The cane stumped along with speed unabated. With the shining- black beaver, while I curiously waited, Eor I saw down the sidewalk the ragged coat coming And heard the low tune the owner was humming. The blue hand outstretched, half waiting, half doubting, "What's to pay," then the loud cheery voice was shouting; Then straight to the depth of the old ragged pocket The owner's hand went like the flash of a rocket. And a coin flashed out in the waiting blue fingers. While a bright cheery smile round the older lips lingers, 'Tt's a small enough sum, my forlorn little maiden. But Em not with the riches you lack overladen : It's my very last coin as I'm a sinner, 25 Da\ Dreams But I'm able to work and can go without dinner." And on tramped the ragged coat again in a minute, Straight to his- toil as though pleasure were in it. I watched until my eyes that w^ere misty and brimming. Saw straight through the crust that the spirit was dimming, And lo ! 'twas the soul of a monarch right royal That the ragged coat hid, and a heart true and loyal ; And the battered hat seemed like a halo of glory That told me again the sweet Bethlehem story. While on down the street the tall beaver shining With the gold-headed cane and the broadcloth entwining, Kept guard o'er the shriveled up soul of a miser. The world f(jr his living, no better, nor wiser. Said I to myself, "Now the proof is most damning That life after all, then, is nothing but shamming. Since kings stalk abroad in a workman's old breeches And selfishness hides 'neath the glitter of riches." What the test then that shall in their true color's show them ? The passing breeze whispers, ''by their works ye shall know them. You may see it each day on the street with its wearer. And the l^est of good broadcloth can never be fairer ; An old ragged coat, not deforming, but hiding The true kingly spirit beneath it abiding. 26 Day Dreams THE KING'S DAUCxHTERS. Into the highways dark of hfe Where need is sorest and want is rife Passes a loyal band. With tireless footsteps, scattering seed Of help and comfort to human need, "To one of the least," their only creed. They follow the ''Master's" hand, Into the homes where grim want stalks And poverty's grinning skeleton walks. They pass with gentle tread, And want and poverty flee before. And hope and courage arise once more, In fainting hearts that were wounded sore In the struggle fierce for bread. Where sickness and sorrow walk hand in hand, Fearless and bold the noble band Are bearing their symbol of good. And the "wolf at the door" slinks away Into the shadows cold and gray, Wdien a light step echoes along the way Of the white cross sisterhood. Oh loiterers, along life's highway wide. Who sit at your ease what'er betide, Arouse at their bugle call ; Sustain the hearts of the loyal band Who so bravelv toil in a thankless land. And lighten their labor with heart and hand Lest at last they faint and fall. 27 Day Dreams THE OLD LOOKING GLASS. Alas ! for the fate that has brought me here, To hang in a garret musty and drear. While out in the light of the beautiful sun, The drama of life, so long begun. Goes on and on, while I stranded lie Like some broken wreck 'neath a darkened sky; Alone, save the mice, whose twinkling feet Creep boldly out from their safe retreat, And the rats that look from their hiding place, While the spiders weave webs across my face. The gilt on my frame is tarnished and grim. And my polished surface is cracked and dim; The boards in my back creak out with pain At each fitful gust of the winter rain. Ah ! nowhere I know in the earth or sky Is there a sorrier wreck than I. And yet, in spite of my desolate fate, What a wonderful story I might relate. Of the vanished years with their hopes and fears, And their strange commingling of smiles and tears. I could tell of the forms of airy grace That have shone in the depths of mv polished face. Of the eyes that have looked with careless mirth Ere they closed for aye to the scenes of earth ; I have seen the faces of beauty fair Grow wrinkled and old, and the shining hair Lose its gloss and glitter, while tlireads of gray Crept through it silently day by day. 28 Day Dreams I have watched while the laughing eyes of youth Grew faded and sad, while the stamp of truth W^as swept away by the living death That lurks in the wine-cup's poisonous breath. Ah ! the generations that have passed along ; The tears I have witnessed — the smiles, the song; The pledge of lovers, the marriage vow. The blushing bride with her sunny brow ; I can see once more the matchless grace Of the fairy form, and the smiling face That gazed in my depths with happy eyes, Reflecting a dream of love's paradise. Alas! that the scene so soon should change, And shadows so cold, and dark and strange, Should chase the light from the sunny room, And shadow each waiting heart with gloom ; Reflected within my surface now, The bride of a year, with marble brow. Lies silent and chill, while the laughing eyes. Closed to earth, have opened in paradise, While closely clasped to the pulseless breast, A babe is hushed to eternal rest. But the swift years fleeting flow on and bring Life's changes still on their tireless wing. Another sits in the vacant chair And combs before me her shining hair. And childish voices ring through the hall, While still on the dingy parlor wall 1 hang in state till the merry brood. Who my steadfast friends through the years have stood, 29 Day Dreams Flit out, in turn, to the world's rough strife, And the old folks pass to the better life. Alas ! alas ! I outlived them all. But am borne in turn from the parlor wall, By stranger hands to the garret room To languish alone in the dust and gloom. Too old-fashioned to suit in this modern day — Hid wdth the mice and cobwebs away; For the maiden wdio walks in scornful pride, Through the rooms where the children were born and died, Must needs have a costlier glass than I, To reflect the charms that are passing by. My surface is blurred with a mist of tears, And marred and cracked \vith the weight of years, While the boards in my back creak out with pain At each fitful gust of the winter rain ; But, ah ! in spite of my hapless fate. What a w^onderful story I might relate ! IN THE WEST. Prairies stretching boundless To the distant W^est, Endless hillocks raising Waving, glowing crest ; Graceful slopes and hollows, Seas of billow^y green. Richer view was never By eyes of mortal seen : 30 Day Dreams Emigration marching- With steady onward tread. And cactus, brush and bramble Hide their hydra head. Long brown furrows reacliing O'er each 1)illowy crest, Ah! this hfe is pleasant In the glorious W^est. Now the train is bearing us Toward the setting sun, And the twilight shadows Tell us day is done: Cities drop behind us Little towns before. And solitude seems brooding All the prairie o'er ; Now the morning sunshine Gilds the waving plain Opening to our vision Fairest views again; Streams like silver ribbons With banks in l)ushes dressed, Ah! this life is pleasant In the glorious W^st. Buffalo are grazing On the distant hills. And shy-eyed deer are slaking Their thirst at yonder rills; 31 Day Dreams Around us sail the cowboys On their ponies fleet — Now they fire revolvers Down the village street ; Countless herds of cattle Dot the untilled plain, And wake the morning echoes \A^ith sounds of life again, In myriad blooming roses, The hills and vales are dressed, Bless me ! life is pleasant In the glorious West. From crowded eastern cities The hardy sons of toil Flock out in steady numbers To till this waiting soil, But still its wide arms stretching Toward the setting sun, With countless acres waiting And riches yet unwon — Are beckoning us onward Wdiile soft winds seems to say, "Come out, oh weary toilers From crowded towns away, Come out from ill paid labor The gift we give is best. And life is free and happy In the glorious West." 32 Da\ Dreams WATCHING THE OLD YEAR OUT. Sitting- alone in the fire-light A\'atching the shadows fall, AVatching niglit's sombre mantle Gathering- over all ; Listening to hear the footsteps Of the new year drawing nigh, Keeping my lonely vigil. To see the old year die. The shadows are gathering darker. And my spirit feels the power And shrinks from the brooding presence Of the solemn midnight hour; While over the face of nature, A tender veil has spread. As if to hide from the careless, The form of the old year dead. I shrink from the stroke of midnight, And sigh at the tale it tells. While I seem to hear the echo Of the tinkle of fairy bells ; And T seem to hear them ringing A welcome loud and clear. To herald the coming footstep Of a happy, new-born year. 33 Day Dreams And my mind goes backward, backward, To the other years gone by, When another sat beside me. To see the old year die; Together we knelt in the firelight, And listened for fairy bell, From the shades of misty silence The birth of the new year tell. The firelight shone on my darling, And pictured an angel's grace, On the flowing sunny ringlets And the happy smiling face ; While she whispered "what is the new year Bringing for you and I ? Shall we watch again, I wonder. To see the old year die?" Ah me ! ere the happy new year Grew l)right with summer's l3loom, My darling had passed forever To the home beyond the tomb ; And the snows of many winters Have lain on her lonely bed. Since the sods of the valley covered From sight the golden head. I have seen the years troop onward Since that happy day gone by. And in many a lonely vigil I have watched the old years die ; 34 Day Dreams But my heart will sorrow ever, 'Till the new year dawns for nie, When the boatman comes to bear me Over the mystic sea. LIFE'S PROBLEMS. Eyes like dewey violets. Cheeks like roses red. Glowing sunbeams playing O'er the golden head ; Airy, fairy footsteps Dancing o'er the hill, Voice, whose music rivals The mocking bird's soft trill. Now, in brownest study Droops the dainty head, Forgotten bird and sunshine — Mighty thoughts instead. Draw the brows together In a tiny frown. Puzzling o'er the problem Of — cutting dolly's gown. Sitting in the starlight With drooping head, alone; Childish joys forgotten. Sedate and older grown. 35 Day Dreams A new light soft and tender Dawns in the dewey eyes, That look with silent rapture Adown love's paradise. Puzzling for a season O'er offers two and three, The true heart knowing surely Just which one it must be. Ah ! sweet delicious problem So soon and truly solved, Although two lives forever Are hopelessly involved. A woman worn and weary. Hands rough and brown from toil, With eyes grown dim and faded From burning midnight oil, Counts o'er her sleeping treasures With fondest love and pride, The lads, so like their father. The baby girl beside; Widowed and poor, yet smiling O'er each fair sunny head. While puzzling o'er the problem Of shelter and of bread. Oh! problem, darkest, hardest, That Fate can ever give. Most difficult of solving — The problem how to live. 36 Day Dreains DIVORCED. Yes, Mary, we have parted, the deed at last is done ; Two Hves that ran together, two hearts that beat as one Are parted now forever, the breach no time can heal, Though fondly we imagined, that whether woe or weal. Our love would last forever, outshining e'en the sun, And we should drift together 'till all of life was done. Ah ! me, the space that parts us, one mile of summer green, And yet, the ocean's billows as well might roll between. Why was it. do you ask me? Ah, well, I hardly know, Some clouds that hid the sunshine, an adverse wind or so. T hardly can remember the trifles light as air. That o'er our wedded horizon first cast a cloud of care. He grew somewhat neglectful, perhaps by word or look. And my rebellious temper no slight or wTong could brook; So one thing to another led onward day by day, Until the love we cherished seemed drifting quite away. The little faults and failings that each of us possessed, From hillocks grew to mountains, till each was sore distressed. Had each been slow to anger, instead of quick and proud, The breach would not have widened ; but now the little cloud. At first a speck appearing, kept spreading far and wnde, Until its gloomy shadow has darkened all beside ; And so at last we've parted, the w^-etched deed is done, And all the world looks dreary, and dark and cold the sun. Here in my arms, I'm holding his babe upon my breast, 'Tis all that now is left me from the lot I deemed as blest; The eyes, so like his fathers, gaze smiling in my own, Unmindful that his mother, save him. is now alone. 37 Day Dreams Here, j\Iary, take the paper and read the words once more, I cannot see the letters, a mist seems gathering o'er : The words run all together before my tear-dimmed sight. But read and I will listen. Ah ! then, I heard aright, "Charles Allen versus Jennie;" just Heaven! and is this then These vows so lightly broken, the vaunted love of men? Has he so soon forgotten those happy days gone by? Love's bright and radiant daw^ning, the sacred marriage tie? The vows so softly whispered beneath the silent stars? Love's glow, that so outrivaled the morning's rosy bars? Has he so soon forgotten the babe within my arms? And has its winning helplessness to him no tender charms? Divorced ! oh ! word of horror, for well, ah well. I know The stain will cling about me wherever I may go ; The w^orld, so kind and lenient towards a man's good name. Looks coldly on a woman, and holds her most to blame. So in these hasty tempers that proved our wedded curse. And in this lack of patience, and pride, which still is worse. We were neither of us blameless, nor free from giving pain, And yet, I have forgiven, and could forg'ive again. Alas ! how useless, useless, these w^orse than vain regrets ; \Adiy must a w^oman sorrow, when man so soon forgets ? The bands so lightly sundered have frailer proved than straw. This law of such divorces is not a righteous law. For, Mary, on my finger still gleams the wedding ring, Wdiile in my arms I'm holding his babe, a helpless thing. No shadow of dishonor has ever dimmed my life. And yet, though still a mother, this leaves me not a wife. Too late, you say? truly, the wretched deed is done. Two lives that ran together, two hearts that beat as one, 38 Day Dreams Are parted now forever, unless somewhere above The hearts on earth divided, unite in perfect love. Divorced ! ah ! word of horror, thy sting must lose its smart, And sweet peace fold her pinions again within this heart. When pride, once more upholding, shall raise her banner high, And change to radiant morning the cloud-ribbed, midnight sky; When hope, with bright adorning, shall pierce the dismal gloom, And faith point shining finger to bliss beyond the tomb. For there no clouds of anger can dim the spirit's birth. And we may win forever the love we lost on earth. THE BAL MASQUE. What fascination in a sight So quaint and so amusing, But how describe a scene though seen, So charming and confusing; Kaleidoscopic figures glide In rhythmic rhyme and measure, And grotesque forms flash in and out. Intent alone on pleasure. The devil waltzing with a saint Goes down the room a flying : A preacher and a ballet girl The racquet step are trying; 39 Da\ Dreams A clown and nun go whirling; by. The giddy hour beguiling, While sociably a jolly tar And negro wrench are smiling. The bishop in his robes of state A chambermaid is clasping, AVhile Humpty Dumpty w'addles by The Queen of England grasping; A Lilly with a Japanese Joins in a dizzy spinning, And over all with horrid leer A hideous death's head grinning. A German from the Faderland With baby mine is wdiirling; A dandy with his jeweled hand His well waxed mustache twirling, While with a ragged beggar girl He joins in wild cotillion, Until it seems the room contains Of maskers half a million. No season this for making love, No time for soft hand pressing, Lest one deceived by horrid mask Should make mistake in guessing. And so betray the heart's fond hope To maid with mishcief laughing. And find instead of love returned But tantalizing chaffing. 40 Day Dreams IF. If we could pierce the clouds that often hide The light of day, " And see the pitfalls and the snares that lie Along the way, Our souls might well in terror shrink appalled And pause in dread. Lest some false step, some grievous harm might bring Upon our head. If we knew the trouble that a word might bring, \\'ould we beware, To add to the already burdened soul Another care? If we considered all the sad effects Of slander's breath — How like a pestilence that sows abroad The seeds of death; Or like the tiny pebble thrown within The ocean wave. Each ripple widening to some far off shore To find a grave — Ah ! then I think each hand would tightly close Upon the seed. Each soul would pause affrighted ere they risked The word or deed. If all who live in houses made of glass Should pause to think. That they, perchance, are standing also on Some awful brink, 41 Day Dreams Ah! would they throw the stone designed to hit The fabric frail That shelters some poor shrinking soul within Its feeble pale? If we knew some thoughtless spoken word The last would be A well loved friend would ever hear on earth, Ah ! then would we Have taken greater pains to make it kind. But now too late, We find the golden moment passed, for aye — Time does not wait. If we knew our chance for doing good Would soon be past, The pleasant morrow wnth its hopes and fears Would be our last, Then would we fling the precious time away In useless strife? Or would our souls grow brave in fitting for A better life. And so, unknowing all that lies before, Each soul should say, 'T'll walk uprightly lest my stumbling feet Fall by the way." Then if, that little word so often frought With deadly leaven. Might cease to be a stumbling block between Our souls and heaven. 42 Day Dreams A RETROSPECT. Em sitting- alone by the hearth to-night, Watching the gleam of the fitful light, That chases the shadows by — But, somehow, to-night the sigh Of the winter wind as it wails around And chases the dry leaves over the ground, Seems breathing a mournful cry. While the shadows gather athwart the room, And the corners are wrapped in deepest gloom, Which the firelight passes by. Oh ! why do I heave a sigh. And tremble so at the winter blast? Is it a fear of the ghosts of the past? Or of conscience' feeble cry? For what has conscience to do with me? The wealth I have gathered from land and sea To my heart, can never fail ; Then why should I shrink and quail ? For I have houses and I have lands — And none in the city higher stands. Than I, in the social scale. And what do I care for the widows tears. Or the poor I have ground through all the years, In gathering gold to me ? - When all the time I can see 43 Day Dreams My papers have never a legal flaw, And all is right in the eyes of the law — So what are the poor to me? And what do I care that the gold I have gained, At the gaming table, is sometimes stained With starving children's tears; And why should a thousand fears — And doubts, creep over my heart to-day, When all of my sin I have hidden away From the swiftly coming years? Can the tale be true, that a watchful eye, Somewhere, from the depths of yonder sky, Can spy all our secrets out? Of late I've many a doubt That my wealth, ill-gotten, can bring me peace. Or smooth my path as the years increase, And my lamp of life goes out. The fire-light fails to lighten the room, And figures start from the gathering gloom. And I shrink in nervous dread ; For I seem to hear the tread Of the years misspent that are long since past. And voices call out from the winter blast : "Alas for the hopes now dead." 44 Day Dreams BY AND BY. Prize Poem. Awarded first prize at contest in Joplin, Mo. — 1880. Summer with her golden beauty, Roses with their radiant bloom, All are gone, and leaves are dropping, Softly, sadly, o'er their tomb ; Tell, oh tell me, winds of autumn. Wailing o'er them as they lie. Shall we see the roses blooming In new beauty by and by? Clouds have gathered dark and dreary, Shorter grows each wintry day, Snows of winter soon will banish From our land the songster's lay ; Tell, oh, tell me, winds of autumn. Is there still a shining sky? Have the clouds a silver lining! Will the spring come by and by? Withered leaves are softly falling, On the bare and sodden earth. Banquet halls, so lately ringing, With the sounds of joy and mirth, Chill and silent, wait the dawning Of a fairer, brighter skv. Wailing winds of autumn tell me W^ill the sun shine by and by? 45 Day Dreams Will the flowers bloom in beauty When the springtime comes again? Will the storm-clouds break in sunshine? And will pleasure banish pain? Autumn winds that w^ail around me. Clouds that hide the shining sky, Tell, oh, tell me, will the summer Dawn in beauty by and by? And the friends we loved and cherished Who have passed from mortal sight, Do they, too, await our coming In some far off morning light? Fairy forms the earth has covered. Golden heads that used to lie Upon our breasts, oh shall we meet them In the radiant by and by? Shall we hear the airy footstep That has passed from earth away? Echo on the golden mountains In the bright eternal day? Autumn winds that wail around me, Tell, oh, tell me, if on high. Dawns there not some radiant morning Where we'll meet them by and by? Softly blow the winds in answer, ''Winter's storms shall pass away," ''Spring will come and roses blossom," "After night will dawn the day;" 46 Day Dreams ''And the loved and lost are waiting In a better home on high," ''Clothed in beauty, brighter, fairer. Thou shalt see them by and by." MAY. The roses are blooming, are blooming, Their fragrance floats out on the breeze, The green leaves swing softly and idly Fr*om their odorous home in the trees ; The sparrows are building, are building, Their nests in the flower g-emmed grass, The starry eyed daisies are nodding Their heads to the zephyrs that pass. The clover is budding, is budding, 1lie bumble bees humming around. And wonderful beauties are springing Each day from the dew-laden ground. And skyward is floating, is floating. The notes of the mocking bird's lay. All nature is pulsing and throbbing With the life of the beautiful May. But the royal red roses, the roses. The queens of the season and flowers. Their beauty makes lighter and brighter The gloom of the toil laden hours ; 47 Da\ Dreams Their frag'rance can banish, can banish The cobwebs of doubt from the brain, 'Till the hopes that were drooping and fading Will blossom to new life again. Then bring them, the roses, the roses, To lighten the toil of the day, And twnne them in beautiful garlands The odorous gift of the May. AIR CASTLES. I built in life's sunny spring-time A castle so airy and bright. That it seemed neither cloud nor shadow Could darken the goodly sight ; And the evening sky glowed brighter \Miere it bent o'er my castle wall And sweeter rang on the still air The song of the night-bird's call. No tower nor minaret gilded Rose up to the blushing sky. No banner waved from the rampart To welcome the careless eye ; For my castle was but a cottage, ^^'ith walls that were white and low, With sweet-briar over the lattice. And roses blooming below. 48 Day Dreams But wild birds sang in the elm trees That drooped o'er my castle door, And love with his airy footstep l^ripped over the oaken floor; And there waited my eager conn'ng, Bv the rose-laced lattice bars, A maiden with sunny tresses. And eyes like the summer stars. Ah ! me. but my castle faded, Like many a princely one. And I v/oke to sterner toiling. When my pleasant dream was done : Since then I have scaled the mountains That lead to the heights of fame. And given to sons and daughters A loyal and honored name. I have gazed on the wondrous beauties Of many a distant land. And built me a princely mansion In a city stately and grand ; But neither the fame nor roaming. Nor mansion goodly and fair. Has brought to me the pleasure Of the castle built in the air. 49 Day Dreams HOW LONG. How long- will the fortune we think we have conquered, Flit mockingly on like a will-o'-the-wisp? How long ere the lips that are used to complaining- Learn only the accents of patience to lisp? How long will the hopes that we cherish so fondly Float off from our sight like the mist of the morn? While the clouds and the tempest still hanish the sunshine. And wreck the sweet peace that our lives might adorn. Voice of the winter wind wailing around. Drift of the withered leaves over the ground. Change to the voice of spring, bid hope return, Ere faith's altar fires no longer burn. How long will the lights and the shadows commingling, Make checkered and dreary each fair dawning day? How long must the feet, that are bleeding and weary, Press on o'er a thorny and toilsome way? How long shall we dim!) ere the dark frowning mountains Give way to the valleys so peaceful below. And the soul shall rejoice in hope's sweet fruition. While waves of contentment shall soothingly flow ? Star of Bethlehem shining above. Voice of the church bells speaking in love, Speak and each doubting heart with courage thrill And to the troubled waves bid, "Peace! be still." How long ere the wrong that is flouting in triumph Shall tremble and fall at the power of right? When virtue shall sit in the places of honor. And all earth be free from oppression's dark night? 50 Da\ Dreams How long", oh! how long", shall affliction sweep o'er us? How long" must we weep for the loved we have lost? How long- in the journey that lieth before us Shall our life-boats by wave and by tempest be tossed; Clouds that are sih-er-lined break from the Hoom. Hope folds her brooding wing- over the tomb. Faith points with shining hand on to the goal, Darkness nor storms can there shadow the soul. W^HAT THE WIND SAID. How the wind was blowing! With never a pause the whole night going, It rattled the windows and shook the door. And fought for an entrance o'er and o'er. Then laughed and shrieked in demoniac glee As it tore the leaves froni each swaying tree. And scattered them wdde on the frosty air And battered the branches dry and bare. How the wind was blowing! It capered and danced tlie whole night going-, It slammed the shutters and creaked the gate And blew in the chimnev like voice of fate ; It chattered and moaned at my window pane Then off in the wildest waltz again, 51 jD ay Dreams 'Till we half exipected to wake and see The world whirled off from its gravity, Or all the spirits of earth and air Joined in carnival everywhere. How the wind was blowing! It sobljed and moaned the whole night going; It paused in the wildest waltz to sigh And breathe through the lattice a mournful cry, And the angry bluster and sobbing breath Would die aw^ay to the hush of death. Then rise to a mournful wail again Like some lost spirit in mortal pain. While the moon gleamed ghostly from misty skies, And the pale stars looked in sad surprise. How^ the wind was blowing — The tale it told the sad truth showing: It told of the greedy race for gain. Where none would pause for a brother s pain, Then clattered and clashed like the endless strife That marks out the turbulent path of life: It sighed for the fond hopes faded away. And mourned for the lost hours gone for aye. Then died away to a sobbing breath That told of the warm hearts chilled in death. Ah ! how did the wind w^ith its mirthless laugh — Its sobbing and moaning, its chatter and chaff, Know so well the tale of our mortal life. Its hours of pleasure, its wants and strife. That it touched each cord with unerrin5{ hand And shouted the secret o'er all the land. 52 Day Dreams THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. Step softly, ah ! step softly, A guest has entered here. Unbidden and unwelcome, W^hom mortals dread and fear : His presence stalking grimly Around the family hearth. Has spread a sombre shadow. And chilled each sound of nu'rtl: Each voice is hushed and solemn. Each footstep softly steals, \\'hile in the darkened chamber A weeping mourner kneels ; Ah! life has lost its sunshine. And earth is wrapjied in gloom Our hearts are sh.rouded darkly In shadows from the tomb. Turn out the guest unbidden. And open wide the door. Bid Heaven's blessed sunshine Illume our hearts once more Arouse the silent sleeper That lieth straight and chill. And make the pulses quiver W^ith bounding life at will. 53 Dav Dreams Alas ! the guest unbidden Goes not at our command — The figure chill and silent Beneath Death's icy hand, Stirs not at tender calling, Nor heedeth tears that flow, While life has lost its sunshine — And all is dark below. And shall these clouds forever Enwrap our mortal sight ? And shall we shrink and tremble At Death's unwelcome might? Ah, no ! if Faith triumphant Can look beyond the veil. And see the bliss awaiting When heart of flesh shall fail. Oh! then the King of terrors Shall lose his venomed sting. And souls may dwell securely Beneath hope's brooding wing. THE OLD HOUSE. A Story. The old house stands in the valley As it did in the days of yore, The ivy droops over the windows, The jessamine creeps o'er the floor 54 Day Dreams The l3uni1)Iel)ees hum in the clover, The swallows build in the ea\'es. And the thrush holds matinees dailv In the shade of the maple leaves ; The robin still sings in the pt^plars That stand like sentinels tall Down l:)y the gate, and the g'rape vine Still droops o'er the garden wall. But the tall rank grass is waving Untouched l)y the mower's hand, And l)raml:)le and brier unheeded Run riotous OA'er the land ; And dank green mold is creeping Over the door stone wide. And the roses untrimmed on the trellis Are tangled b}' wn'nd and tide : The windows, so high and narrow. Have yielded to wind and rain. Till the winter's snows have entered Through many a broken pane. Ah ! what is the mournful story That the old house tells to-day? Does it speak of the hopes that drifted Like the autumn lea\es away? Of the fair home group that gathered Of old in those dingy walls? And the music of childish laughter That rang through the vacant halls? 55 Day Dreams I can see them 3'et before nie. The beautiful brood that sprung From the grey old walls, and the babble Of voices fresh and young. It was only the old, old story, But ever also so dread, The tempter so fair, so fatal, \\\\\\ his slimy serpent tread. Crept over the threshold softly. And lured with dazzling charms The pride and hope of the household To his death-embracing arms : 'Twas this demon drink, was weaving With terrible warp and woof, 'Till the shadow of dark dishonor Fell over the household roof. The boy, his mother's darling. And the pride of his father's heart, Vv'ith his innocent hand dealt surely The death envenomed dart. Embracing the wily tempter. His senses dulled by drink, A precipice yawning widely His feet on the dreaded brink, No hand of love could stay him — He plunged, and the deed was done. And the prison walls yawned v/idely To receive the erring son. 56 Da\ Dreams 1lie fee])le and grey-haired parents Drooped 'neath the deadly blow, 'Till the broken hearts were resting Under the winter's snow"; While over the old home gathered The shadow of dark despair. And the fair home group was scattered Like leaves on the autumn air. So the old house stands forsaken. And battered by wind and rain, 'Till the snows of many a winter Drift in through each broken pane. I sometimes creep through the doorway, And search through the vacant hall For the print of childish fingers On the time-stained crumbling wall. And I seem to hear the echo Of the patter of baby feet. And the music of silvery laughter. And the voices low and sweet. And I turn my head to see them Troop in through the open door, And I see it was but the rustle Of the dry leaves on the floor. Then I vainly ask of the silence That broods o'er each empty room, ''Will human love never brighten Again in this dust and gloom?" But the wdnd seems to whistle sadly As it creeps through each broken pane, 57 Day Dreams ''Alas ! what the tempter has darkened Can never be bright again." Then I seem to hear a rustle Of a light wing overhead. And a soft voice whispers sadly : "Look not on the wine when it's red." FRAGMENT. The low-hung clouds were drooping darkly, darkly, 0\'er the way. And, wrapped within their grim and icy shadows. The perfect day. The winter wind wailed sadly round my dwelling. Like spirits lost. While through a maze of doubt my soul groped blindly All tempest tossed ; When, lo! a sunbeam pierced the gloomy shadows, And by its glow, I saw the clouds had each a silver lining, While soft and low The winter winds now breathed a joyous anthem, And, blissful sight. There sprang in perfect beauty from the tempest A starry night. 58 Day Dreams AN OLD MAID'S STORY. An old maid? ah 3^es, I know it! Thirty-five since yesterday morn — A thing to be laughed at and pitied, Or treated with silent scorn. Last night I discovered a wrinkle, This morning a gray hair or so ; Well, youth has departed, that's certain. And personal charms will soon go. Offers? well yes, I have had them, I might have been wife number three Of Smith, with his six small children But I didn't feel fitted, you see; Or, I might have been Madame Browning, With my carriage and pair to-day. And dressed in my silks and laces Listead of this sober gray. What, sighing, you say? well surely I could not wed merely for gold, Nor barter my heart's affections For his wealth a thousand fold ; It was not for gold I was sighing. Nor yet for the lonely life. For an old maid's lot is brighter Than that of an unloved wife. 59 Day Dreams I will tell you why I was sighing : 'Twas a dream of the long ago. That vanished like mists of the morning Or faded like winter's snow ; \Mien the war hroke out, you remember. That fearful rebellion and strife, A few^ more weeks was to see me A happy and blessed wife. I loyed so entirely, no sorrow^ In all this wide world could I see. And the bridal robes were all ready For the bride that \yas neyer to be; He went to the wars, oh Heayen ! The horrible anguish and pain — The tears and the prayers unayailing — He never came back ag"ain. He whisper'd at parting, be faithful. And so through the years that have flown. My heart that was his so entirely. No other love ever has known. And now you know all my sad story, And why an (^Id maid I must be. Because just over the river AIv true love is waiting for me. 60 Day Dr CO Ills UP AND DOWN. Up and down and back and forward Goes this see-saw life of onrs. Straying now^ in pleasant pathways Bordered with the fairest flowers ; Groping* then through darkest shadows O'er a rough and rocky way. Torn by thorn and caught by bramble While night hides the smiling day. Now we roam through pleasant valleys Chased by sound of waterfall, \A'hile from every flower gemmed thicket Floats the song-bird's noon-day call. Now a desert bleak and barren Stretches out on every side And wdth shivering fear we wonder What may next our steps betide. Now perhaps the royal mountains Rise before our longing eyes. While each purple tree crowned sumnn't Fills our souls with glad surprise ; Daring hearts whose feet are scaling 'fleights w^e may not hope to win. Wave us on 'till lagging footsteps • Swift the toilsome path begin. And above us on the mountains Where the purple clouds we see, Richest fruits gleam from the tree-tops. Laurel wreaths wave mockingly. 61 Day Dreams Now perhaps success has crowned us. And we gaze serenely bland On the struggling crowds below us, From the heights where safe we stand. Safe? oh, no! for fortune frowning- Turns her fateful wheel around, Down we come with crash and ruin Prone once more on lowly ground. Up and down and back and forward Goes this see-saw life of ours, None may know when morning dawneth V\diat awaits the evening hours. None may know how soon his footsteps Scale the purple mountain height, None may know how soon a downfall All his hopes of fortune blight. \\ hy then waste the precious moments Striving to outshine them all. When perhaps our waiting neighbor Proudly builds upon our fall ; Why then strive so blindly, blindly, For a higher place to stand. When perhaps the next wave sweeping- Proves our rock w^as only sand? Why then deal in pride and passion For so brief, so brief a day. When we know the evening cometh WTierein none may toil for aye. 62 Day Dreams THE FOLKS IN THE CORNER HOUSE. The folks in the corner house I know \Yqvq rich and honored not long ag'O, For an honored name I read each day On the polished door's silver plate, As I st(^p to watch the gold fish play In the marble fount by the iron gate, \Miere marble steps lead high and wide To the blooming- terrace on either side. 't3 But a strange neglect seems creeping o'er, And the step on the velvet covered floor Grows slow and sad, and the father's form, Erect and stately but yesterday, Grows bent and worn in the fearful storm Now sweeping his cherished prop away; AAdiile the patient mother, hopeful still, Grows faint at the shadow of coming ill. For the son wh.o li\-es in the corner house Has joined of late in a wild carouse. And boon companions are stamping now The serpent's seal on the youthful face, While hao-o-ard lines on the bovish brow Betoken too well its startling pace. For ''they say" a drinking and gambling den Allures this weakest of fast young men. 63 Dav Dreams The boon companions hold revel late. For I heard the click of the garden gate Last night at the hour of one or two, And the staggering step was weak and slow And a watch was kept the whole night through, For I saw^ the night lamp burning low, And I knew the patient mother wept As faithful watch for her boy she kept. Affairs in the corner house grow worse — - There are new demands on the failing purse, For I note on the patient mother's face A look as of added doubt and care, While the harrassed lines creep on apace On the father's brow, and wild despair Seems to fill his heart as day by day The last faint hopes are drifting away. Ah! when will this sickening tragedy I have watched so long from sympathy. Be o'er, and the corner house again Put on its aspect of blooming peace? Oh, never more, for I hear with pain That the nightly revels still increase. And I saw a man at the house to-day Bearing the costly goods away. The end approaches, the drunken brawls Have closed at last in the prison walls ; They are strangers to nie and I may not go And offer the sympathy I feel, 64 Day Dreams Though the feeble father's step is slow. And the mother all day long may kneel In anguished prayer in her boy's room, Now shrouded in worse than deathly gloom. The corner house has been sold to-day To meet the debts that were made at play ; The father's hair has grown snowy white And the fish in the marble fount are dead, While over all is the gloom of night — The trail of the ''tiger's" bloody tread ; The blinds are lowered and much I fear That the angel of death is hovering near. The play in the corner house is o'er, And crape streams wide from the polished door, The patient mother's sad face lies Frozen and white 'neath the coffin lid. And the grey-haired father's weeping eyes All day in his shaking hands are hid, While the poor-house doors yawn wide and grim, The only shelter now left to him. 65 Da\ Dreams FAIRY BELLS. I heard the fairy beUs Ring- througii the solemn silence of the night. I looked, and lo ! the old year, faint and white, Stood trembling- on the threshold of the past, While earth in sleep's embrace lay chill and fast; And dim and distant glowed the midnight sky, While memories in ghostly ranks trooped by. I saw the dead years piled like autumn leaves. While the recording angel garnered sheaves Of good resolves that faded like the dew Whene'er temptation's sun but rose to view. I saw the purple heights whose summit fair. Tree crowned, gave hope of fruitage rich and rare The niany eager feet that strove to climb. The trembling upward step, the faith sublime : The iron links that drew them back again. The mocking hands that made all effort vain ; All this I saw while faint the music swells, And nearer, nearer still the fairy bells Rang out the old year's dirge. I heard the fairy bells, And like a scroll the page of years rolled back. And once again along the shining track I saw the ghostly ranks file slowly past. Each with the phantom impress of the last. The many wasted hours, the hours of pain, Peeied in my face like mocking fiends again; 66 Day Dreams The vanities, the heartaches and the strife Came back to haunt me with a misspent Hfe ; Cried I, "no more! O, withered years forbear, And let the happy New Year free from care Dawn o'er the earth, for though we may not see, The pathway stiU before less rough may be Than that o'er which our wavering feet have passed, And we may hope to reach the goal at last." And nearer, neai-er, still the music swells. And loud and clear and sweet the fairy bells Rang out the New Year's birth. I heard the fairy bells Ring through the solemn silence of the night. And lo ! peace spread its mantle soft and bright In tender folds, o'er all the waitino" earth. And dark doubt fled before the New Year's birth. I still kept watch, but ah! alone no more. For sweet companionship with faith I bore. And hope beside me folded snow'y wings, While restful tidings all the night wind brings. And louder, clearer still the music swells. And nearer, dearer, sweeter, fair}^ bells Rang out the New Year's birth. 67 Day Dreams THE OLD SETTLERS' REUNION. Prhc Poem. Awarded first prize at Reunion at Carthage, Mo., in 1882. Once more together, friends, we stand Like landmarks b}^ the way, To mark the years since first we stood Where now^ we meet to-day, Ah ! many changes have we seen Since first our eager eyes On Jasper county's rolling plains Gazed out in glad surprise. Majestic prairies spreading wide, With forests, stream and glade. Seemed like a glimpse of Paradise To those who, undismayed By hardships of a pioneer. Left homes of rest and ease, To plant within the wilderness Still brighter homes than these. We've seen old landmarks disappear — Swept onward, one by one. By emigration's mighty tide. Like mists before the sun; The little creek we used to ford Is spanned by bridges strong, The bridle path long- since gave way To highways wide and long. 68 Day Dreams We've seen fair cities springing up Like mag'ic by our side, Where once, unseen by human eye. The wild rose bloomed and died ; And stately buildings crown the spot, And churches rear their heads, Where not so very long ago The red deer made their beds. The prairies, dotted here and there. With settlers' cabins small. Have changed to fields of waving grain At labor's magic call ; And luscious orchards crown the slopes That once were covered o'er AVith useless brush, and garners deep Our countless treasures store. But. ah! my friends, not all of joy These changes swift have brought, For other changes still, have come, Unwelcome and unsought; The friends who sought with us a home, Our comrades, where are they? Brave hearts, by watch and labor worn, Have fallen by the way. The hands that made the wilderness To blossom like the rose. O'er loyal hearts are folded now. In sweet and last repose; 69 Day Dreams The eyes that gazed with us upon Our prairies rolHng sweep. And saw the promise of to-day. Are closed in dreamless sleep. And so my friends we drop a tear O'er graves that mark the w^ay, Up which we toiled with eager feet To where we stand to-day; Our hearts with hope's fruition filled. Still beat with tender love For those who wait our coming now In better homes above. And so my friends we meet to-day With loyal hearts and true, To mark our country's prosperous growth Like landmarks lone and few ; A few more meetings here, perhaps. And then the day will dawn, When friends with pitying love will say, ''The last Old Settler's gone." 70 Day Dreams DOUBT NOT. I said to my soul, "Oh pilgrim bound for a fairer goal. Why hast thou strayed from the solid rock- When 'round thee hosts of evil flock And the billows roll?" But my soul spake not, it was faint with fear. Said I, ''Can the trees and the mountains hear? Shall I tell to the winds how dark is life And how imperiled in deadly strife Is my erring wandering soul?" Oh mountain height ! Heard ye then when alone by the stars' faint light, I climbed with weary and aching feet To thy dizzy height for the silence sweet Of thy peaceful night? When on thee my tired heart was pressed. Like a sobbing child to its mother's breast. And I whispered low to thy tear- wet sod, "It is better here ; I am nearer God," Knew ye then my soul's sore plight? Oh winds that sigh Through the pines, heard ye not when sweeping by When I bade you carry in words of flame The prayer that my weak lips strove to frame, To the courts on high ? 71 Day Dreams Then whence was the answer that fell Hke bahii On my waiting heart, and the bhssful cahii When the billows of passion ceased to roll, And peace fell over my troubled soul, And the tempest passed me by? Ah, soul, never fear; Thou art not forgotten though storms appear, For the Father's love is over all — And he who noteth the sparrow's fall Still holds thee dear. The trees, the mountains, the winds that blow, Can waft from the shadows of sin below^ To the tender ear thy faintest cry. And He will hasten the tempest by. And fill the faint heart with cheer. The rock-ribbed hills, The rushing river and tiny rills — The mighty ocean whose sad wa\xs moan — - Are btit the agents of Him whose throne The universe fills ; The voice that is heard in each passing breeze — The hand that festoons the forest trees — Can gather the stray lambs of his flock. And plant their feet on the solid rock. While with joy all nature thrills. 72 Day Dreams OUR CHURCH WORKERS. We would gather the children in from the street, And shelter their souls from the storm and sleet. And plant their tender and straying feet Safe on the solid rock; With patience and love, we would gather them in From the snares of the tempter and wiles of sin, Till each soul is sheltered, the fold within AA'ith the Shepherd's chosen flock. AA e would visit the homes where grim want stalks, Where poverty's grinning skeleton walks. And the sacred wants of the household mocks, \\\t\\ shadows of dark despair ; We would clothe the naked, the hungry feed, And bind up the wounded hearts that bleed. And strive to honor by word and deed The faith that we claim to bear. Should we note l)y the way as we pass along A soul that is straying in paths of wrong — Mocked at and jeered by life's hurrying throng Shall we coldly pass them by? Ah, no ! when perchance a helping hand Might lure them back from the sinking sand. To the path that leads through a desert land To a better home on high. There are hearts that are bearing the cross to-day That are ready to faint by the thorny way, And struggling souls that are longing to lay Their wearisome burden down ; 73 Day Dreams When a word of cheer in the bitter strife Might point their souls to tlie bread of Hfe. And win through the pathway with dangers rife Safe to their promised crown. DAY DREAMS. I've been dreaming all the morning Of my happy childhood days, Treading once again in fancy All its pleasant sunny ways : Climbing once again the hillside. Where I sported long ago. Picking blue-bells from the meadow \\diere the strawberries used to grow. Searching once again the tree-tops Where the largest nuts were found, AVatching awe struck o'er the hillside Where the rainbow touched the ground Fishing in the meadow rapids For the trout, and, bliss supreme. Throwing pebbles in the water Wading barefoot in the stream. Ah ! the long delicious mornings, Searching in the new mown hay, W'here the hens with thoughtful cunning Hid their treasured pearls away; 74 Day Dreams E'en the jug of water bearing To the mowers in the field, Had its pleasures, pure and simple. Later years can never yield. Ah ! the pleasant airy castles As the years crept on apace, And the downy sign of manhood First appeared upon my face; Mine should be the steady climbing To the highest heights of fame, Mine to write in burning letters On their walls my deathless name. Riches boundless, love undying. Should await my beck and call. All the world should know and honor Fortunes frowns should not appal ; Ah ! the airy fairy visions Vanishing like woman's tears. Frailer than the soapy bubbles. Blown in childhood's happy years. Long has been the path and thorny. That my feet were called to tread, Toil and grief have left their traces Freely on my silvered head ; 75 Da\ Dreams Love deceived nie, riches vanished, Fame retreated from my g'l'asp, All the hopes and dreams of boyhood Faded in my eager clasp. Nothing now is left but labor. And the weary ceaseless strife, Money gaining, heart destroying, Selfish grasping for this life; Nothing left me? yes the dreaming Of the happy childhood days, And the memory sweet and tender. Of its pleasant sunny ways ; And the halo still around me Of the hopes of other years. And the good I can accomplish In this life of toil and tears. OVER THE WAY. Over the way the houses reach In a long red row to the crossing street, And many a lesson the red bricks teach — And many a sermon their high tops preach As they frown o'er the myriad passing feet, And darken the light of the noon-day sky — Darken the day to the passer by. 76 Day Dreams Over the way when morning light Wakens the crash of the hundred mills, And the city glows with the welcome sight Of life and bustle, while high and bright The sun peeps over the eastern hills. Then out they swarm from the human hive Till the red brick walls seem all alive. Over the way I see them go Forms that are bent from ceaseless toil, Flying footsteps and feet that are slow — Forms that are tottering to and fro — And faces pale from the midnight oil. And I look again with pitying sigh At the countless masses passing by. Over the way with guilty air. One creeps sullenly up and down. Till another step up the creeking stair — From the window above a baleful glare — Tells me the face with sullen frown Peers safely forth with an evil eye, Down on the throng of passers by. Over the way what secrets hide Under the eaves of the long red row ? The saint and the sinner dwell side by side- And innocence blushes while sinful pride. Scorning the toiling mass below — Decked in the gaudy robes of shame Trails in the dust an honored name. 77 Da\ Dreams Over the way the aching- heart Crushed by the struggle for daily bread, Ensnared by the fowler's deadly art — Forsaketh at last the better part — And the starving soul on husks is fed. Ah ! the mirthless laugh from the windows high, That floats o'er the heads of the passers by. Over the way the buildings reach In a long red row to the crossing street. And what are the lessons the red bricks teach, And what are the sermons the high walls preach To the throng below with hurrying feet? Who careless and cold to the w^ant and sin. Pass on unheeded the life within, And the dingy walls loom dark and high. Hiding the light of the noonday sky. OCTOBER. October sits on the forest throne \\^ith her red lamps trimmed and burning, And the leaves on a thousand forest hills To scarlet and gold are turning. The ripe fruit droops from the orchard boughs, With plump cheeks rosy and blushing. And red leaves sail with a joyous whirl \Vhere the sparkling- stream is rushing. 78 Da\ Dreams The brown nuts safe in their bursting husks With a merry thud are falHng, And out from a chmip of alders gray The thrush to his mate is caUing. Oh, a royal queen is our sovereign month, This beautiful grand October, When nature arrayed in her grandest robes, Discarding her garments sober, Sits smiling in crown of flaming leaves With her purple sceptre wooing, 'Till the ripened fruit and falling nuts November's storms are brewing. And yet there's a dreary undertone Through the voice of autumn calling, A sobbing breath in each passing breeze, For the red leaves softly falling, Drift over many a new made grave, And eyes that are dim with weeping Under the bright October skies The loneliest watch are keeping. Alas, for the weeping human eyes That cannot see the glowing Of the scarlet and gold of the autumn woods, For the depth of their sorrow knowdng. 79 Day Dreams Alas for the breaking human hearts That cannot see the meaning Of the gentle touch of the Father's hand ; Who on broken staffs are leaning. For sure as the scarlet and gold are traced By October's magic fingers, Let winter breathe but a chilly blast And no touch of beauty lino-ers. So our broken props are swept away When affliction's winds are blowing, And only the feet on the solid rock A standard of strength are showing. PICTURES IN THE COALS. In the glowing embers fairy forms arise, Through the changing shadows I watch with swift surprise Little mimic life scenes acted o'er again While from blazing flashes rise hill and plain. Now a little valley with a cottage brown, Just without, the turmoil of the busy town; I see the swallows building 'neath the mossy eaves And the sunlight sifting through the maple leaves, And the children playing by the open door, But the embers falling, change the scene once more. Now a long low school house and a bush-fringed stream, Where the glancing minnows through crystal waters gleam; Da\ Dreams O'er the master singing, beam bluest summer skies. And through the reeds and rushes peep roguisli laughing eyes. Ah! the falling embers change the scene again, Vanished cot and school house, valley hill and plain : Xow those glowing figures ranged in groups sedate. Are maidens grown to women, boys to man's estate : Xo more the childish laughter floating on the breeze. No more the hide and seeking 'neath the maple trees ; But the firelight gleaming showeth hopes as sweet, For without love's finish life were incomplete. Comes again ecstatic memory of the bliss, \Mien the young lips trembled 'neath a lover's kiss. Wdien a dear voice whispered in the willing ear All the sweet old story hearts have longed to hear. Since the days of Adam blossomed o'er the earth And Eve's welcome coming gave to true love birth. Ah ! the falling embers rudely break the dream, And along the firelight, fantastic shadows gleam; Xow the coals are ranging into rank and file While on gleaming bayonets the pitying heavens smile. Xow the ground is shaking with tread of many feet. See, the boys are marching down the village street ; Towards the sunny southland march our boys in blue — With the blue coats hiding hearts both warm and true. Xow the embers ranging in battle's dread array Hide with smoke of carnage all the dreadful day; There's the horrid cannon belching fire and smoke, The nation's outraged honor in tones of thunder spoke ; Like grass before the mower the dead and wounded fall — See the flames of battle sweeping over all. 81 Day Dreams Just hea\-en! can no power the brave and noble sa\e? Must our hearts be buried in yonder sodden grave? Rake the ashes over and hide the horrid sight, Quench the last faint flicker of expiring light; Would our hearts as easy to forget might learn, As the sodden embers cease to flash and burn. See that blackened cinder falling from the grate. 'Tis the dreadful letter tliat told his mournful fate ; Arms so strong, protecting, folded now for aye, Lips that fondly whispered, only senseless clay. Ah ! the dying embers flashing up once more Tell with voice prophetic the story o'er and o'er; Rake the ashes over, hide the dreadful sight, I cannot bear the pictures in the coals tonight. THE LAND OF NOD. O land where the tide of the years flow back And lea\e not a trace of their sorrowTul track. Where the soul breaks loose from its binding chain And soars through elysian fields again : Where we tread once more the paths of youth And (|uaft" from the cup of its guileless truth. Where life with its paths spread wide before Dazzles with rainbow tints once more, O beautiful land of Nod. 82 Day Drcaius O beantifnl land where the birds sing- sweet And flowers are blooniing a1)out our feet, \A'here all that is fair and good below Seem 1;)ut tt^ await us as we go ; Wdiere we clasp once more a vanished hand That has l^eckoned long- from the l^etter land Where we gaze on the faces we used to love That the tall rank grass has waved above, . C) beautiful land of Nod. O enchan.ted land, where the shackdes roll From otT the wearied and burdened soul, AA'here we wear again youth's vanished grace And sport in each well remembered place: Where the hopes that faded so long ago Adorn our hearts with their vanished glow. Ah! the wonderful charm, the balm to pain, \A> hml in thy wondrous realm again, O beautiful land of Nod. WEEDS. There's a garden lying adown the street That I pass each day with idle feet. And I look in vain for the faintest bloom To struggle out through the air of gloom That hangs over vine and bush and tree. But never the faintest bud I see. 83 Day Dreams When the hills in their robes of g-reen again Shone fair and bright through the April rain, I saw in the garden, bush and vine In riotous grace o'er the trellis twine. While down in the frag'rant mold below The tender plants in each shining row Looked fresh and green, with the promise fair That royal fruitage would garner there. But a strange neglect has gathered o'er. And the hand that planted has pruned no more : And noxious weeds with their noisome breath Speaking- alone of decay and death. Have sprung- into rank and dismal life. Choking down and back in vigorous strife The tender plants that have tried to rise For a view of the pitying summer skies. The vines have dropped from the trellis down. The bushes have hidden their blushing crown And nothing but flaunting weeds I see Where richest of blossom and fruit should be; Then I say to myself, "oh, this is life. The bud and blossom of human strife:" \\q plant with a hearty will and hand And scatter seed o'er a fruitful land, Then oft, alas, for our human needs. We garner only a crop of weeds. Neither the rain nor the sun above Can hasten the growth of human love, 84 Day Dreams Nor tlie winds that l^low, nor the dews that fal Life's faded hopes to our hearts recall. 1die