LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ®]^.'^_^'^'^nit^n# :|n.- Shelf J.K4.... UNITBD STATES OF AMERICA. Rhymes for all Seasons BY SARAH PRESCOTT KELLOGG 3 3 BOSTON D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY Franklin and Hawley Streets Copyright, i8S6, by D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY. PRESS OF HENRY H. CLARK & CO., BOSTON. PREFACE. My only excuse for publishing this volume is given in the words of our lamented poet, — " And the song from beginning to end Was found again in the heart of a friend." So of the poems in this book, if I may call them such, many of them were written for, or at the solicitation of, personal friends; and I offer them, not to the public, but to those who will value the song for the sake of the writer, or, perchance, have a kindlier feeling for the writer for the sake of the song. The critic can well affo^ to pass them by, since the only place I ask for them is in the hearts of my friends. S. P. K. August 30, 1886. DEDICA TED TO Wc^z ilHemorg of ilg ^totfjer. CONTENTS. THROUGH THE YEAR. PAGE January 13 February 14 March 16 April 20 May 21 June 25 July 28 August 29 September 32 October 35 November 38 December 39 Christmas 41 AMONG THE FLOWERS. Coming 45 Easter Morning 47 Under the Leaves 48 Hepatica 50 Trailing Arbutus 53 Pansies 55 La Belle Rose 57 7 8 Conte7its. Daisies 59 Calla Lilies 60 An Easter Rose 63 The Mission of the Lily 67 God's Culture 71 RELIGIOUS AND MEMORIAL, Psalms XLIII. : 5 77 "The Lord is my 'Shepherd" 78 Canticles IL:4 80 Waiting and Hoping. — Psalms cxxx. : 5 .... 82 "Suffer Little Children to Come unto Me" . 84 "What Time I am Afraid I will Trust in Thee," 86 "When I Awake I am still with Thee" ... 88 " Lovest Thou Me?" 90 Revelations IIL : ii 92 The Bride of Heaven 94 Hymn of Welcome 98 In Memoriam 100 Gone Home 103 For the Mother of an Angel 106 Shadowed no From Glory to Glory 113 Longfellow 116 "Thou Crownest the Year with thy Goodness," 117 ANNIl^ERSARIES. After Fifty Years 121 For a Silver Wedding 127 After Thirty Years . « . 130 For the Eightieth Birthday of Captain S. F. . 134 For the Eightieth Birthday of Miss Charity S. 137 Contents. 9 BALLAD OF THE PLEIADES. The Pleiades : A Ballad 143 -MISCELLANEOUS. The Spinning-Wheel's Story 157 MoNA 162 Jephthah and His Daughter 168 Heaven 172 Bethlehem, N. H., 1882 175 After Battle, 1864 178 Life 181 Remonstrance 183 April i, 1879 185 Spring 187 In Autumn Time 188 Uplifting 190 A Dreamer 192 Wherefore ? 194 The Mermaid's Song 196 Trust 198 How to Know 200 The Wide, Wide World 203 Almost Home 205 Transition 206 Contrasts — Autumn Rain 207 Summer Sunshine 208 Wrecked 211 Oblivion 212 A Dream 213 Evening in the Country 215 Bird Songs 218 Autumnal Days 220 lO Contents. While the Day Lasts 222 The Difference 224 Pocahontas 225 My City 227 A Blind Pilgrim 230 The Old and the New 232 THROUGH THE YEAR. RHYMES FOR ALL SEASONS, THROUGH THE YEAR. JANUARY, Crowned with the golden aureole of the morn He comes ; — a white-robed priest, with strong, pure face. On which no earthly passion leaves a trace ; — Bearing upon his arms a babe new-born. Murmuring a " requiescat ^' for the dead, He lays his hand in blessing on the head Of this, the latest year ; — then gives the fair. Pale nursling to the arms of her who stands, Eager and waiting with her outstretched hands ; — The fond Earth-mother, in whose tender care He leaves the little one, while he shall bring White, fleecy robes, and gems that brightly glow, Far in the regions of eternal snow. To lay at the child's feet, an offering. 13 14 February, FEBRUARY, In robes of virgin whiteness, fresh, unworn. Earth sits arrayed, and waits to greet her king. What though for her no birds their matins sing, The far, sweet bells proclaim a prince is born — Heir of the ages. All earth's jewels lie Gleaming and flashing in the morning sun. By swift white fingers woven one by one Into a coronal, she lays them by The royal cradle, where the smiling boy Lies sleeping. Hush ! Tread softly ! lest he wake Ere the snow-fairies robes of ermine make To wrap about him. Now the winds, in joy. Hold noisy revel. Peace ! He wakes ! His hour Is come. Earth knows, reveres his power. February. 1 5 II. How fair the sunlight falls upon the hills, When from a night of frost the day is born ! How like pure wine we drink the breath of morn, Till every grateful nerve and fibre thrills To new glad life ! How deftly on the panes The weird frost-fingers fairy scenes have wrought ! How icy pendants rainbow hues have caught ! In what a crystal clearness daylight wanes ! Ah ! Nature never wrought in kinder mood. Than when she painted with an artist's hand. With every graceful touch at her command. Vast snow-clad fields, and barren leafless wood ; Then spread o'er all the rare and rosy glow, They wear when February's sun is low. 1 6 March, MARCH, All hail ! thou herald of approaching Spring ! What though thy voice be rough, thy manner bold ? Yet in thy hand thou dost a promise bring And we, who know thee, trust thee as of old. Though seldom is thy praise by poets sung ; Though all decry thee ; — yet we love .thee well. The changing seasons never yet have rung Their symphonies on one sweet sounding bell. We know the warm true heart that throbs beneath Thy rough exterior ; and that thou dost wear Thy crust of outward coldness as a sheath. To shut some tender thought, till the hushed air Is ready for its breathing. Guard it well ! — This secret of the earth so wondrous strange ! — We see its fair fulfilment ; who can tell Where doth begin this mystery of change ? In it all things keep new ; and Nature's grace Is, that to eyes that love her she doth wear With each recurring season, on her face An added beauty ; growing yet more fair March. 1 7 As she doth older grow. Would we could learn ; — But Nature tells her secrets riot to all ; — By what sweet alchemy our years to turn Fairer for all the snows that on them fall. We see how uncomplainingly the earth Bears chilling winds, hoar-frost, rain, snow and sleet ; Yet keeps through all the miracle of birth, Nurtured by cold, matured by summer's heat. We see how all the swelling buds of Spring Are nursed, not hindered, by the season's frost ; Till one day bursts in sweet, glad blossoming, The flower that we had whilom mourned as lost. Then welcome March ! sharp winds their piercing breath Must blow o'er thee, ere thou canst wake to life The hidden germs that lie all hushed beneath Earth's throbbing bosom ; mail clad for the strife Of two opposing forces. Thine the ground Where now the yearly battle must be won ; When Winter marshals all his hosts around His sinking banner; — menaced by the sun. Retreats ; advances ; then in utter rout He flees before the myriad hosts of Spring ; While all the trees do float their pennons out. And brooks to rivers the glad tidings bring. 1 8 March. And every little silver-throated bird Doth tell it to its mate exultingl}', Till through the air one echoing song is heard ; Rejoice ! The Spring hath conquered ! We are free ! But, March ! not alway thus in warlike mood Thou stand'st alert, with all thy armor on. Sometimes a sluggish current moves thy blood And thou dost sleep e'er yet the victory's won. Sometimes by sunny skies and soft airs wooed Thou dreamest through some fair, and perfect day, — A dream perchance of some far unreached good ; — A sigh for the sweet breatli and flowers of May. Still thou must wake to duty yet undone. Not thine to wear upon thy breast the flowers : Not thine to dream beneath a fervid sun : Or bind with golden threads the fleeting hours. Thy task, to guard the germs of bud and leaf ; No sleeping sentinel at thy post to be : All Nature's life hangs on thy life so brief ; Though other eyes than thine its wakening see. Yet we are dreamers all ; and often give Too much of thought to one fair, distant heaven ; Nor ever learn the truest life to live. Is doing here the work that God has given. March. jg Would we could be content, O March ! like thee, To leave results for other eyes than ours ; Blest, but to nourish germs we may not see Grow into fruit, or bloom in fragrant flowers. In time, He maketh all things beautiful : The humblest deed may one day show as fair, — If done by one whose heart with love was full, — As do the radiant crowns that heroes wear. Brave deeds, men talk of ; — and sweet ones there be. Whose graceful charm the poets love to praise ; — Clothed with diviner grace His eyes may see, The rugged soul that walks in Duty's ways. 20 April. APRIL. A BENISON of Heaven's sunshine poured Upon a waiting earth all bare and brown ; — A breath from northern snow-fields creeping down, Chilling the tender things but just restored To timid growth ; — oh, April ! once adored ! No wonder that thy sweet face wears a frown ; No wonder that the sudden clouds arise. Darkening the clear depths of thy azure eyes ; And that thou dashest with a swift hand down, Petulant tears ; — since Nature's perverse mood Would seem to thwart thy best attempts at good. Denying to thy brow the queenly crown, That she should wear, who in her hand doth bring The first sweet flowers ; — the choicest gifts of Spring. May. 2 1 MAY. Millions of hearts have longed for thee, O May ! Earth from her prison, stretched forth pleading hands, Waiting the angel who from Winter's bands Should her unbind. Now joyful smiles the day ; While from his perch the robin sings his lay ; — A lay he never learned in other lands. He sang it to the Pilgrims on the shore Of that lone bay, where mingled Ocean's roar With forest music; — and the coy May-flowers Oped dewy lids in sudden glad surprise, — So long unnoted in their virgin bowers, — To meet the sweet light of a maiden's eyes. With "God be praised," the Pilgrim hailed the day. When o'er that dreary waste first dawned the May. Many a lay has been woven for thee ; And many a song been sung; From the bird-notes trilling glad and free, Thy opening leaves among , To the strain from the poet's wakened lyre, Who has found a note divine ; Then knelt to thee \\\i\\ his soul on fire, And breathed it at thy shrine. 22 May. Then what can a tuneless mortal do, Who has never a song to sing, But waits with a gladness thrilling through Her heart for a welcoming. We have longed, yes, longed for thy buds and flowers ; We have pined to breathe thy air ; Oh ! never was sweeter May than ours ; And never a sky more fair. We could not paint, if we would, a cloud, Nor echo the song of birds ; We could not utter the thought aloud, That never was told in words. We may not picture a sunset glow. Nor find for a flower a hue. But our souls the Artist touch may know, As the flower doth drink the dew. Many a lay has been woven for thee ; And many a song been sung : But never a tithe that the eye can see. Has been told by pen or tongue. There are whispers soft in thy balmy air, More tender than poet's lays. And sweeter far are thy bird notes rare, Than the organ's anthemed praise. May. 23 It is better to watch the opening buds, Than mourn that the flower must fade. The tender green of thy new-crowned woods, Was never by art portrayed. In God's great galleries hushed we stand ; Where some with blind-folded eyes, Walk through the beauty on either hand, To seek for its meaner guise. O May ! thou type of Life's sunny morn ! We are children again with thee. We pluck thy flowers for the garlands worn In the Mays that no more may be. Thy violets are as blue as then ; Thy orchard blooms as sweet ; And down in the memory-haunted glen, The same wild-flowers we meet. 'Mong the hill-side graves we seek a mound Where some brave one lieth low ; The life he gave for his country, found In Heaven long years ago. But the flowers of Earth may still be dear, As the flowers of Heaven are fair ; So with loving hands, and a silent tear; We lay our garlands there. 24 May. O May! Sweet May! thou art honored more Than thy queenly sisters fair. We scatter thy choicest treasures o'er The graves where our heroes are, And the fragrance of their dying breath Is wafted from dale and hill, Where the turf grows greener for their death, Over brave hearts hushed and still. June. 25 June is the month of roses : wherefore then Should she repine that God gave not to her The ripened fruit, or golden grain astir In languorous breeze ? Doth she not know that when Fair Juno came,— a goddess among men, Heaven did on her the richer gift confer Of beauty that should hold all hearts in thrall. Till men in worship at her feet should fall, Unreasoning. Why reason with the thrill That beauty gives us ? See ! The rose is sweet ! We tread its broken petals 'neath our feet Unheeding loss ; for lo ! before us still. On each new bush the opening buds disclose The glowing heart of a more beauteous rose. May blooms have cast their petals to the breeze And at the gates of morn a goddess stands. While faint bird-twitters heard among the trees, Prelude the welcome of their choral bands. 26 Jime. Last night the clouds dropped tears o'er the dead May Who lay so cold and still beneath the stars. The sun arose to crown another day ; And looked upon the world through crimson bars. He kissed the trailing robes and amber hair ' Of her who walked the earth with dimpled feet. Then breathed upon the still form lying there ; Wrapped in its dewy, filmy winding-sheet. Till all its soul exhaled in morning dew, Drawn up to Heaven by those strong golden beams,— Now June walks proudly all the meadows through, And trails her emerald robes by flowing streams. Her brow is wreathed with lilies pure and sweet ; And in her hand she bears a crimson rose. While on the girdle, falling to her feet, The daisy in its starry brightness glows. But what her lily's dainty, regal dress, To fragrant blooms that promise after-fruit ? Ah, Avhat ? save that by simple loxeliness. It wakes some chords that may be, else w^ere mute. And what is in the heart of a June rose More than its sweetness ? Perishably fair : — So frail that never any wind that blows Across its beauty, but must surely bear June. 27 The wafted fragrance of some broken leaf, That drank the morning dew ; then stooped to fill The rose's chalice. Ah ! the mission brief : By fleeting charm some waiting heart to thrill. And God, who clothed the lily, did not give To her the common lot of daily toil ; But just to be : — for Beauty's sake to live ; And keep her garments free from earthly soil. June sows no seed, and brings no harvest home. Small fruit is hers, save some bright berries sweet The laughing children gather as they roam The green hill-sides with bare and restless feet. But June is Beauty's self ; — and day by day. We gaze upon her lovely, changeful face. She holds her subjects with a regal sway ; And keeps their hearts by tender, winning grace. Yet June will pass, as May has passed before ; And we shall think of her with vain regret. Too soon her sweet, charmed days will all be o'er ; The rose will sleep, as sleeps the violet. 28 July, JULY. She comes with noiseless tread in the still hours. Waking, I hear the glad song of a bird : By scarce a breeze the forest leaves are stirred : The dew lies heavy on the opening flowers. But soon the mist parts from the mountain-side, Pierced by the red sun's fierce and torrid rays. The cattle in the meadows cease to graze ; And seek the cooling shade till eventide. Oh ! restful summer eve, that ends the day : — The weary day with all its toil and heat : The grass grows cool beneath the burning feet ; And the long shadows fall across the way. Oh ! restful, blissful eve, that ends life's day ! So shall we go to our eternal rest, Like weary ones who find the shadows blest ; — The shadows that have lengthened in our way. August. 29 AUGUST. All wearily the summer waiteth now, Her work perfected. Silently she wrought Through shower and sunlight. All the breezes caught Her meaning. E'en the poppies on her brow Soothing to slumber ; and the tired brooks low, Half dried in pebbly beds, murmur her thought. Now pulsing life the wondrous secret tells. For lo ! the flower that dropped its leaves in May, Hangs crimson ripe upon its bough to-day : And that small handful of earth-buried grain Waves fair and golden o'er the wind-swept plain ; And the flower's sweetness waits in well-stored cells. Oh ! rare, sweet silence ! Work in secret done Shows marvellous when brought to light of sun. Summer comes, and Summer goes ; Summer's on the wane ! Life is fraught with joys and woes ; Pleasure, mocked by pain. 30 Aligns t. Oh ! tliat joy should be so brief ! Would that Time delayed ! Folded bud doth turn to leaf ; Leaf as soon doth fade. Spring came in with song- ami mirth. And the wild bird's call Now the cricket on the hearth Chirps at twilight's fall. All the woods are fair and still : Denser grows the shade : Fog hangs heavy on the hill, Where the sun-beams played. Yellow leaves among the green. Gleam like first gray hairs; Showing all the dark between, — Coming unawares. Light and shadow tiit in turn ; Shadow follows light. Sunset hills in glory burn ; \'eiled in mist, the night. August waiteth like a queen, Soon to be discrowned : Wraps her faded robe of green Rovallv around. August. 31 Last of Summer's daughters fair, Flower and fruit she brings. Sweet her dainty gifts and rare ; — Choice her offerings. Corn-fields waving in the sun, — Meadows rich with grain, — Tell their tale of duty done ; Summer's on the wane ! 32 September. SEPTEMBER, Scarce had the blue-veined lids closed o'er the eyes Of the dead Summer, beautiful and cold ; When a white angel did his wings unfold, Floating cloud-like athwart the rose-lit skies, To where the setting sun, with rays slantwise, Had changed a purple mountain into gold. Upon its summit lay a maid whose hair Had in its meshes caught the glory rare ; The angel stooped and kissed her; and she rose A crowned queen of matchless loveliness ; Whose royal favors all the earth should bless. Nor did one glance, less soft, the fact disclose, That she who smiled, the fairest one in all The train of months, had ushered in the Fall. Oh ! Queen of the months, September! How royally crowned art thou ! The summer has hoarded its glory. To shed it upon thy brow. September. 33 Thine eye is the clearest azure. And a golden cloud thy hair. Thou comest with perfumed garments, From the purple distance fair. Thy kirtle is green and russet ; Thy crown is emerald and gold : And the sweetest gifts of the Autumn, Thy bountiful arms enfold. With a blessing we greet thy mornings ; We bask in thy noontide rays : And we hold our breath, as thy sunsets Fix all our entranced gaze. We scarcely dream of a Heaven More fair than thy smiling skies. Each day brings an added glory ; Each evening a sweet surprise. For the " harvest moon " rides proudly. Where the stars of lesser light, Grown dim in its wondrous brightness, Recede from the gazer's sight. Oh ! the endless charm of the moonlight ! Making night to be fairer than day ; Till we go to our couch, reluctant As a child, tired out with play. 34 September. Oh ! Queen of the months, September ! For a lyre to sing thy praise ! For the poet's gift divinest ! For the singer's sweetest lays ! Accept but the heart's glad tribute, For the words we cannot tell ; And the song that remains unwritten. Though we own thy magic spell. It has woven its charm around us : Like a blessing of God, it falls On the spirit earth-worn and weary, And fretted by prison walls. We have caught a vision of angels ; We would wrestle like Jacob of old, If the heaven-born thought immortal, Could be by a mortal told. Farewell to thee ! fair September ! What thou givest, thou canst not take. What thou givest is ours forever : Earth is dearer for thy dear sake. We kiss the hem of thy garment : We would hold thee if thou wouldst stay. That thy blessing may still go with us In the gloom of the year, we pray. October. 35 OCTOBER. Over the hills lies a dreamy haze ; In gold and crimson the forest burns ; And ever I hear the brown nuts fall From the tree that stands by the garden wall ; While redder and redder the maple turns, In the glowing light of the sunset blaze. Over the hills a spirit glides ; And a tremor seizes the golden leaves , They loosen their frail clasp one by one ; They fall at our feet when the day is done ; And, down by the brookside, the willow grieves, That never beauty on earth abides. Oh ! flower and leaf, that seem so fair ! Oh ! earth, that holdeth so much we love ! If we weep when we see our treasures fall From hands that would vainly clasp them all ; Though brighter there are in the world above, — Ah ! chide us not, for we are not there. 36 October. Shall I not give one lay to thee, October ? That art so brightly, beautifully fair; Oh ! I could revel in thy calm clear sunshine, Did I not hear the death-knell in thy air Of all the summer brought of bloom and beauty ; — Of all the joy in budding leaves and Howers ; — Of all the fancies born of idle dreaming, While Duty waited through the sunny hours. Oil ! fair thou art to look upon. October ! But all thy beauty tells of swift decay, 'i'iirough leaves of veined gold the sun is shining; The first rude wind will bear them all away. One eve, the sun sets in a crimson glory ; The next, the cold gray clouds dim all the sky. One night, the '• hunter's moon '' rides clear and tran- quil, Tlie next, the tempest wildly sweepeth by. One day the garden is a bower of beauty ; And bright-hued flowers nod to the passer-by. The next, all blackened in the morning sunshine. With drooping stems, and close-shut leaves they lie. October. 37 The summer brought us bloom and warmth and sweet- ness ; Thou dost but mock us with a sembhuice fair. I cannot love thee for thy strange bright beauty, Because of that sad death-knell in thy air. Because I know that through the sweet, glad summer: — Through bright September to these golden days, — We've kept so little th.at we should have cherished, To go with us in Winter's cheerless ways. Pass on thy way, thou many-hued October ! 'Neath gayly nodding plumes thou bear'st the dead ; Brightness of Summer ; — glory of the Autumn ; — For these, — not thee, — our farewell tears are shed. 38 November. NOVEMBER. Now all the Autumn's gold is turned to gray; Earth puts on sackcloth; and from sobbing eaves And bare tree-branches, weeping all the day, The rain-drops fall upon the quivering leaves. Anon a ray of sunshine streaks the gloom, And the pale skies shed a faint, sickly smile O'er the cold earlh ; — as one smiles o'er a tomb Who tries his will with God's to reconcile ; Yet feels that he would call the lost one back Even from Paradise, were it but given The power to follow in the spirit's track. And hold it at the very gates of Heaven. — So sad November blindly sits and grieves O'er the lost beauty of her fallen leaves. December. 39 DECEMBER. 1877. Oh, mute December ! where the robe of whiteness That thou wert wont to wear in years gone by ? From wliat strange clime dost bring thy warmth and brightness ? What spell hath wrought the stillness of thy sky ? The winds have hushed their lutes ; no breeze disturb- ing The unburied leaves that lie by rock and stream. The storm-god waits, his restless coursers curbing ; And Nature sleeps as in a peaceful dream. Each morn I see the trees in graceful limning Stand statue-like against a cloudless sky ; But from their branches no sweet bird is hymning Its notes of praise, or thrilling rhapsody. Each day the tardy sun in quiet scorning, Melts all the filmy drapery of the night ; Kisses the earth, then with rose-tint adorning The hill-tops bare, too soon withdraws from sight. 40 Dccciiilh'r. Huslied in the sleep that comes but to the dying, When all the agony and pain is past ; Voiceless and pulseless, the old year is lying ; And every breath conies fainter than the last. Oh! mute December! lift thy voice in \vailing1 Ihing out thy pure white covering for the dead ! ^^'e too would weep, if tears had aught a\-ailing To briui;- us back the davs so swiftlv lied. Christ mas. 4 1 CHRISTMAS. A hoary sexton waitelh grim and lone, With nerveless hand to toll the old year's knell ; Its numbered hours each measured stroke will tell All we have known, give place to the unknown. — The sexton sleeps upon the cold gray stone ; And angel hands awake the silent bell To gladdest music. Now the tuneful swell Fills earth and air with song for centuries known. Oh blessed Christmas chimes: "Good will to men ! "- Divinest gospel ever writ or sung. The Christ it heralds, walks to-day among The poor and lowly ; blesses now, as when He showed the mystery of life from death ; — Taught Love's evangel with his dying breath. Awake, O sexton ! toll no funeral bell ! But ''Peace on Earth" in softest cadence tell. AMONG THE FLOWERS 43 AMONG THE FLOWERS. COMING. Coming ? The Spring is coming ! The robins and blue-birds are here ; But the March wind blows, And I hear the crows Cawing and clamoring near. Coming ? The flowers are coming ! The tulips have burst the ground ; And all in the woods The Arbutus buds Peeping out from dead leaves are found. Coming ? The spring is coming ! Already I feel the thrill Of the life that glows In the heart of the rose, That the winter could not kill. 45 46 Coming. Coming ? Ah ! what is coming ? The future we may not tell. We never know, When the violets blow, Or the buds begin to swell ; Whether the summer that's coming Shall bring to us joy or pain. — If the fruit should start With a worm at its heart, The blossom had died in vain. Easter Morning. 47 EASTER MORNING. ■I AM the Resurrection and the Life." I give the bird its song ; the flower its hue ; — The springing blade its draught of morning dew : - The buried seed, the germ with Death at strife. I was ; I am. The breathing world is rife With spirit-power; with good that conquers ill ; — That hushes passion with its " Peace ! be still ! " And lifts dead manhood up to life anew. As trees put on their living robes again, And brooks their silence break at Nature's call, So none that live shall say, " This life is all " • Since I have dwelt among the sons of men ; And for them conquered Death, that they might rise With Me to purer life beyond the skies. 48 Under the Leaves, UNDER THE LEASES. Under the leaves the violets sleep ; Up from the leaves the snow-drops peep. Under the leaves in tattered gown, Sweet-faced Arbutus nestles down. Up from the leaves the crocus springs ; — Blade of grass with a butterfly's wings. Under the leaves in the April rains Blood-root washeth its crimson stains ; Till into the glad, sweet morning light It lifteth a blossom pure and white. Up from the leaves with ^vinsome grace, Daffodil raises a fair, proud face. Hyacinths shake from their bells the dew, Pink and purple and white and blue. Tulips gorgeous, but fair to see. Blend their colors in harmony. Pansies, wrapped in purple and gold. To Earth's warm bosom coy faces hold, Roses blush in the morning light. And lilies kneel in their robes of white. Under the Leaves. 49 Balsam and Zinnia, scentless, fair; — Poppies nodding in drowsy air; — Queenly dahlias in perfect dress ; — Prim, with a touch of haughtiness ; — Aster and golden-rod, last of all, — Fair and smiling when dead leaves fall ; — Under the leaves they all must sleep ; While over the leaves the gray skies weep. Under the leaves a promise waits ; And Hope stands warden by golden gates. Seed shall be found in garnered sheaves ; That, sown in tears, lies under the leaves. 50 Hepatica. HEP A TIC A. Blue and pink and white ! All in your gala dress ; — Starring the ground with light ; — Fresh in your loveliness; — So to-day I find you, As I kneel on the mossy sod. So to-day I bind you ; In a posy sweet I bind you ; And I walk where the Spring hath trod. And I read, as I look In the old, old book, A marvellous thought of God. Blue and pink and white ! Gathered and bound with care ; Your starry blossoms bright, To a sacred place I bear. Into a quiet room, — To a woman with silver hair, — I carry your fresh, glad bloom ; — I carry your sweet perfume ; — Hcpatica. 5 1 And she knows tliat tlie Spring is fair : Though she can but look In the old, old book, All wearily from her chair. Blue and pink and white ! Ah ! once her e3'es were blue ; Ah ! once her eyes were brigiit ; And tlie world to her was new. Her brow was fair and white, And sunny and brown was her hair. She knew where the blossoms grew ; She gathered them in the dew ; And dreamed that the world was fair. 'Twas the first glad look, yVnd an unread book ; — But the thouglil of God was there. Blue and pink and white ! \\\\\ you smile on her as sweet As you smile on children blight, Who come with their dancing feet;, And gather you, aprons full t They see alone the flowers ; She sees the long past hours. And visions beautiful. Pictures on memory's page ; — Dreams of her dreaming age ; — 5 2 Hepatica. Dear woman with silver hair! So near to the close Of the book, that she knows What God has written there. Blue and pink and white ! All in your gala dress ; Starring the ground with light ; — Blooming a heart to bless ; — I, fain, before I leave you, In a garland of song would weave you. For ye are a song, my flowers : — Poems in Nature's book ; — Open that all may look ; — The solace of weary hours. As close to her throbbing heart We lean, of her life a part. The stars, and the blossoming sod, Above and below, — In shine and in glow, — Reveal the great heart of God. Trailing Arbutus. 53 TRAILING ARBUTUS, A SWEETNESS veiled and tender Under the brown leaves lies ; — A mystic grace to render Charm unto seeking eyes. The lily's waxen pureness ; — The flush of Summer's rose ; — The violet's demureness ; — Its folded buds enclose. Prone on the cold earth lying, In gray old forests dim ; Where Winter chants in dying, A weird-like parting hymn : Or on brown banks reposing. By morning's sunlight kissed ; With sweet eyes still unclosing, Through evening's veiling mist. In storm and sunshine ever Exhaling fragrance still ; — A trust that faileth never ; — A joy through good or ill. 54 Trailing Arbutits. This lesson for my conning, Svvet;t Hower, thou bringst to me ; — Not in the glad May morning Alone, life's grace to see : But in the evening's chillness, Hope's promise still lo keep: — Faith that the night's dread stillness Is but the wintry sleep, Of germs of joy and sweetness. That through the long months wait The imfolding to comi:)leteness. Till Time shall, soon or late, 'J'hiow open wide Death's portal; When [lowers of fragrance sweet, Shall spring to life immortal. Our wondering eyes to greet. So from thy lavish treasures I weave a garland fair ; — Foretaste of Summer's pleasures ; — In wealth of fragrance, rare. — Tiiought, to my thought inspiring Life's noblest work to know ; — "leart, to my lieart's desiring, T.ove's purest path to show. Pansies^ 5 5 PANSIES. AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT. D' you had asked my favorite Anionic the garden flowers, 1 should have said ; " The pansy wet With drops from summer showers." If asked what messengers should bear A greeting to a friend ; I should reply that pansies are The sweetest one can send. And so to-night your token brings A dream of summer hours ; — A day full fraught with pleasant things, The perfume of the flowers; — Tv/o stranger faces kind and true, But strange no more to me ; For, in their friendliness, 1 knew The friends that were to be. 5 6 Pansies. December winds blow bleak and chill; I see no more the flowers : But angel tokens of good-will Fly o'er this world of ours. And one into my quiet room Brings kindly thought to please ; I see my floweret's purple bloom ; Ah ! rightly named, " Heart's Ease." In vain the winter winds may blow ; I feel no more their chill ; The flowers lie warm beneath the snow, And hearts are warmer still. Yet, as the Pansy's heart of gold Is richer for the dew ; So gifts and blessings manifold, May Christmas bring to you. December 25, 1878. La Belle Rose. S7 LA BELLE ROSE. I SAT by my window, yesternight, Watching the snow-flakes soft and white ; Watching each downy, feathery fall, And sadly pondering over all The years that had passed since that glad night, When my darling stood in her robes of white ; And the many, many winter snows. Since the first that covered my fair young Rose. The brightest %'er bloomed in garden bower ; — The sweetest e'er blest a lover's hour. Ah ! Death so cruel ! Ah ! Death so cold ! There were scentless flowers in the garden-wold ; There were withered blooms and thistles rank ; And reedy grasses yellow and dank ; 58 La lulli' Rose. Aixl lilies soiK'd in llicir \'ii<;in white ; Karlh-slaiiu'd ami droopin*^ ; — too sad a si^ht ]]ut my rose was a queen in her modest ^lace ; With the morniiii^-dew on her <;lowini;" face. Not a pelal mailed; noi a leadi-l dim; — A perlecl llower from the hand of iiim Who roiiiuth all heanleons lhin;;s in a breath ; Vet sa\elh them no! from the toneh of Di'ath. () fairest, () sweetest, loveliest Rcxse ! Would 1 too were lying 'neath winter snows. Daisies. 59 DAISIES. Oh! j^olden-lieanccl daisies, all smilin,:; in llic sun; Oh ! merry, dancin^ij daisies, pure-petaled every one; My love walUs tiirough the daisies; And all men s'uv^ her praises ; — For like her there are none. Oh ! brave, true-hearted daisies, still smilinp; in the sun ; Oh ! tender, modest daisies, as saintly as a nun ; I crown my love with daisies ; My fond heart sings her praises ; — Of maids, the fairest one. Oh ! stanch and faithful daisies, ye smile beneath the sun ; Oh ! winsome white-robed daisies, so dainty every one ; My love sleeps 'neath the daisies ; She heedeth not my praises ; Ah ! like her there are none ! 6o Calla Lilies. CALLA LILIES, The fields are white with snow ; And white the lilies blow, Above their green leaves rising tall and fair: And peerless in their grace, All regal in their place. Emit from creamy hearts a fragrance rare. Into my sheltered room, Their subtle, faint perfume Brings back the summer's bloom and sweetness all. Without, the winds may blow ; Without, may fall the snow ; — No chill of winter on my heart can fall. For where my lilies stand I seem to see a Hand ; — A strong right Hand that holds them in their place. But over all I see Death's brooding mystery ; — Ah ! woe for them, twin lilies in one vase ! Calla Lilies. 6i The strongest, fairest one, — First kissed by morning sun, — I know will be the first to droop and die : And but a few more days, And all tlie sun's glad rays Will draw no sweetness from the lone one nisfh. & Within my sheltered room, Where these two lilies bloom, There hangs upon the wall a pictured face. And in the grave, sweet eyes A nameless shadow lies : Did some foreboding give the shadow place ? Two children, side by side. Grew, till the world grew wide ; Then one went out; — the other, longing, stayed. He had the world to win ; But all /ler world was in The little home where both in childhood played. Now, in the twilight gloom. The lily's faint perfume Awakes a chord that thrills along the years. I see again the face ; — Fair in its boyish grace ; — With sunny eyes that hold no unshed tears. 62 Calla Lilies. Upon the darkening wall, The d3^ing day-beams fall. They touch my picture with a softened grace. But in the grave, sweet eyes, The old-time shadow lies ; Though now I deem no shadow's on the face. I think of one who died, Calm in his manhood's pride ; Where blood-red flowers of battle wreathed him round. But Peace's white lilies sprang Pure, when the war's wild clang- Had ceased, o'er all the weary, trampled ground. He lies 'neath quiet sod; Where never armies trod ; — 'Tis a quaint graveyard in a peaceful town. And on the grave's green breast, Like fair, white lilies prest, The heaped-up snow-drifts hold the still heart down. And one day by his side. By Death's touch purified, I too shall lie beneath the winter snow. But somewhere, hand in hand, God grant we yet may stand, Redeemed and pure, where fadeless lilies blow. February i, 1879. Aji Easter Rose. 63 AN EASTER ROSE, Easter lilies, creamy white, Blossomed in the morning light ; — Lilies fair and pure and sweet ; In their loveliness complete. But the maiden looked and sighed ; Still with heart unsatisfied. " All the lilies are so cold : Ah, could but a rose unfold, "Warm from out the heart of June ; Fragrant in the April noon." Then the old man, pitying, smiled, Half in mockery, on the child. " Every season has its own ; No June rose was ever known 64 A^^ pAistcr Rose. " Rt'st and slumber to forego, On an April morn to blow." " Give me then an Easter rose, Wakeful through the frost and snows ; " Spake the maid, imperious still ; And the florist wrought her will. On the next year's Easter morn, Lo ! the miracle was born ; And among the lilies came One fair rose without a name. — Outer petals white as snow ; — Inner, with the tender glow . Of the blended hues of dawn, Ere the morning's Mush is gone. Faintest tint of sea-shell rare ; — Palest gold of mermaid's hair. " Wake, O maiden ! wake and see ! " Bent the fair head reverently ; An Easter Rose. 6$ Oh, my queenly Easter rose ! Never summer flower that blows, Sweet as thou, or can compare With thy matchless beauty rare. So I think the Virgin stood, Crowned in her motherhood. So I think the Virgin smiled, Looking on the fair Christ-child. Ring out, all ye Easter bells ! Till each happy mother tells To the children at her side, Of the Christ, the crucified. — Of the babe of wondrous birth, To the hour he rose from earth." All that week the Easter rose Bloomed amid the April snows ; Every morning's sunshine took From it more of earthly look ; 66 An Easter Rose, Every morn its petals wore Paler tint than that before ; Till at last it shone as white As an angel's wing of light ! Lower bent its regal head ; Faintly sweet its perfume shed ; Bowed to earth in vesture fair, As a maiden kneels in prayer. Then its petals fell apart, And revealed its virgin heart. Let the rose, O maiden, be Emblem of thy life to thee. Let each morning's sunlight draw From it earthly stain or flaw ; Till the light of God shall shine On no purer heart than thine. The Mission of the Lily. 67 THE MISSION OF THE LILY. A LILY Stood in a garden fair, Drinking the sunsliine and summer air ; Carefully hoarding her perfume sweet ; Saying proudly, " It is not meet " My garments to soil and my locks to wet, To go with the humble violet, "And droop in some fever-tainted room. Where never a common weed could bloom. " The violet's robes are strong and blue. And easily washed in the morning dew ; " But mine are fragile and white and pure," So in her beauty and pride secure, She daintily held herself apart ; And kept her fragrance within her heart. 68 TJie Mission of the Lily. A maiden passed down the garden walk, And plucked the lily from its stalk ; And laid it low in a basket, wet With tears of the fragrant violet. The lily mused o'er her fallen pride, And the cherished gift she thought to hide ; Till the violet's rest her pain had stilled ; — Her heart with a nobler purpose filled. And she knew her life had a mission yet, As true as that of the violet. From the green hills fast and far away, The flowers were borne that summer day ; And the evening chimes rang clear and sweet. As over the stones of a rough-paved street. They passed to a hospital ward, where men Had been borne from battle and prison-pen. Rough were the hands the violets pressed ; But tender the hearts the maiden ble3sed. TJie Mission of the Lily. 69 The lily, she bore to a cot where lay, His life fast ebbing and floating away, — A man all shattered and torn of limb, Called by his comrades, " Corporal Jim. " A soft hand moved o'er the pillow white ; A perfume stole o'er the senses' night. Once more were lifted the closing eyes, With a smile of quick and glad surprise. As he saw the lily beside him there. His lips moved softly as if in prayer. The maiden bent low the words to hear, Solemnly spoken, distinct and clear, " In the beauty of the lilies ! " I've sung it o'er and o'er, When marching on to battle, where I shall march no more. " When shot and shell fell thickest, and the ranks went down like grain ; My heart kept on repeating the sad and sweet re- frain. yo The Mission of the Lily. " And Christ has blessed the lilies , now by this sign I see, As I gave my life for others, so He has died for And the maiden sang him softly, the grand old bat- tle-hymn ; And the lily gave her fragrance to the soul of Corporal Jim. God's Ctdtiire. 71 GOD'S CULTURE. I NOURISHED a plant with tender care ; And I watched its leaves unfold : I gave it the sunshine and the air, And sheltered it from the cold. But alas ! alas ! it drooped and died, With never a reason why. — My cherished plant that had been my pride; I wept to see it die. It had not given to me one flower. Nor a bud, for all my care : Oh ! had it but borne for one sweet hour, Some blossom rich and rare ; And then in its wealth of bloom had died, I'd have kissed and laid away The flower that my heart had satisfied ; — For its fragrance still would stay. 72 God's Culture. I put my plant in a darkened room, For I could not bear to throw The flower that had never come to bloom, Out into the winter's snow. The weeks went on, till I thought to cast My poor dead shrub away : But as out of the twilight gloom I passed With it, to the light of day, A miracle met my joyful sight ; — A wondrous thing to behold ; — The plant that had drooped in the sun and light, Away in the dark and cold. Had been nursed to life by a hand unseen. Until every branch and spray Was flecked with tiniest buds of green ; All pushing their eager way, Out to find the light, the blessed light ; And their myriad leaves unfold. Now their glossy green in the sunshine bright, Gleams fairer than that of old. And I know that my plant will one day bloom, And its beauty my eyes shall see ; God's Culture. 73 For a voice from out of the darkened room, Hath spoken it unto me/ And I know that the hopes I've laid away In the darkness and the cold, Will spring to a fairer life one day, As violets spring from the mold. There are lives that never have come to bloom Or fruitage, for too much sun ; But out from many a darkened room, Is a flower immortal won. Where the north-wind sweeps o'er the bleak hill- side. The laurel in beauty grows ; Transplant its roots for your garden's pride ; It withers beside the rose. So souls that in struggle and strife grow strong. Will shrivel and shrink in ease. Better breast the gale, than be borne along We know not where, by the breeze. We cherish our treasures over much ; And think they are all our own : And when they droop 'neath our loving touch, How weakly we sit and moan. 74 Cod's Culture. But the dear (Jod knows, and his tender care, With a wiser foresight, blends The cold and the heat ; and everywhere, The darkness and light He sends. If He gives us darkness, where we seek light, Let w^ f^row its shade within. The cloud on the other side is bright, But the dark side had not been. If it were the best for you and for me To dwell in the light alway; The fair and the bright forever to see. And never the shadows gray. Then bless the Lord for the cooling shade ; And bless the Lord for the sun ; And bless him most, that our path is stayed, Where the darkness and liirht are one. RELIGIOUS AND MEMORIAL. 75 RELIGIOUS AND MEMORIAL PSALMS XLIJI. : 5. Oh ! heart, be brave ! Oh ! soul, be strong ! The night Cometh to all ; but after comes the dawn ; And after that, the sunlight broad and free. What though thy way should ever devious be, And sudden turnings hide the end from sight Till faith grows weak, and courage all is gone. Know, through the darkness One is leading thee. Look up ! God's sun of love doth o'er thee shine. God's hand of love, oh ! clasp it close in thine, And say, " I care not what withheld may be. Nor seek to know what may be yet in store. Since Thou, by Thine own will, hast in me wrought Such healing I can never suffer more. As when thy love was not in all my thought." 77 yS The Lord is My Shepherd. THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD, Oh ! Lord, to be guided by Thee, Through the mazes of sorrow and sin ; My garments from all stain kept free, My heart pure and stainless within. Oh ! Lord, but to follow thy lead, Up to heights that I dare not essay, Because, in my weakness, I need A firm hand to clasp by the way. To rest in " green pastures " were sweet ; But over a dusty highway, A wearisome journey, my feet Must travel e'er closes the day. To walk by " still waters " with Thee, And gaze on thy image within. Till my own in its glory should be Transformed from its weakness and sin, Were blessed ; — but Duty may call Where the way shall be rough to my feet ; Perchance where the wild waters fall, Their cold, blinding spray, I must meet. TJie Lord is My Shepherd, 79 But if, in the darkness, I know There's One that is near, within call, Through the wilderness cheerly I'll go. Nor shrink from whate'er may befall. The rocks may be slippery and steep ; But if Thou, my Shepherd, shalt stand, A guard o'er my footsteps to keep, I will cling to thy outstretched hand. It may be that never my way May lie by the fair waters still. Till out of the darkness, the day Dawns, with rapture my freed soul to thrill. It may be that never my feet In quiet, green pastures shall rest. Until bathed by the lilies sweet. That bloom in the fields of the blest. But wherever it lead, if I do The duty that nearest me lies. At the end of my life-path I know Awaits me, the smile of thine eyes. 8o Canticles II. : 4. CANTICLES II. 14. I SAT alone ; I saw the banquet spread ; I saw the guests in wedding-robes pass by. I saw each to the pkice assigned him, led ^ " No place for me," I thought with weary sigh, 1 sat alone ; my eyes were dim with tears; My soul was faint, and hunger pressed me sore. " Must I," I cried, *' through all the coming years. See others feast, yet hunger evermore ? " Then starting up, I said, "The King I'll seek. And at His feet will lay my treasures all ; Perchance that He some gracious word may speak ; Some crumbs may grant that from his table fall." So, scarcely seeing for the blinding tears, One forward step I took, and fainting, fell : But swift was raised by One who calmed my fears; And gently whispered. Courage ! all is well ! Canticles If. ; -/. 8 1 Then looking up, I first beheld the King In all his beauty ; never known before. White-robed I stood, and on 1113^ hand a ring ; And heard, " Come sup with me, nor hunger more." Fast clinging to his hand, I reached the board ; And by his side I sat, — a willing guest. Thus to be honored by my gracious Lord, — I had not dreamed that I could be so blest. He fed me with His hand, and as He gave Of sweetest food, I raised my eyes above, And saw a silken banner o'er me wave ; And on its folds I read the one word. Love. 82 Waiting ajid Hoping. WAITING AND HOPING. ^ Psalms, cxxx. : 5. I STAND by the golden gates of morn ; I welcome another day new-born ; What shall it bring to me ? Yesterday brought me woe and pain ; But sunshine cometh after the rain ; And the sun is good to see. The sun ariseth out of the mist ; The rose creeps over the amethyst ; From the vales the shadows flee. Out of the mists of fear and doubt, Clear, from the depths my soul looks out ; And the new day smiles on me. I stand by the golden gates of morn ; My heart is filled with a hope new-born ; What shall it bring to me ? Some hopes have vanished in pain and tears And some were lost in the crowding years ; Forbid it, that this should be. Waiting and Hopijig. 83 For, better by far than earthly gain -, — Better than sunshine after rain, Is God's best gift to me. I will guard it well, as a sacred trust ; I will keep it free from cankering rust ; Till my Father's face I see. And every storm-cloud that passes o'er, Shall but leave it purer than before ; — To shine more radiantly. The years will come, and the years will go ; They may bring me weal ; they may bring me woe ; If they bring me, Lord, to Thee. 84 ''Suffer Little Children to Come Unto Me'' SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME." Suffer the children; Hinder them never; Crowned by Christ's choosing ; — Blessed forever. Blest, by the touch Of His hands on their heads ; — Wreathed with His arms In their low cradle beds. Gold of His glory Gleams in their hair ;-^ Smile of His sunshine Kisses the fair Fall of their eyelids, Hiding in sleep, Visions the angels For little ones keep. Suffer Little Children to Come Unto Me.'' 85 Bring Him your darlings, Mothers ! and kneel Low at His feet, That the baptismal seal, Pressed on their foreheads, May fall on your own ; — Arms everlasting Around you be thrown. Guardians of jewels ! Holding in trust Souls of such value, Surely ye must Strive to get nearer Each day to the place, Where their angels forever Smile into His face, Whose brightness of glory Was softened that He Might suffer the children Its love-light to see. 86 JV/ial Time I am Afraid. "WHAT TIME I AM AFRAID I WILL TRUST IN THEE." Our ship was outward bound, when lo ! the gale Came sweeping down in darkness o'er the sea. The forked red lightnings made my spirit quail, When suddenly some sweet words came to me. Some blessed words, that God's own Psalmist spoke ; Recalling Him, who calmed the troubled sea. In vain the angry waves in fury broke Against the vessel's sides ; no more to me Came fear ; for One I loved held all the sea In his right hand, as I had held that day, His gift ; — the Book most precious unto me ; For there my heart had found its yea and nay. And in it seeking something that might be For that day's need ; its leaves had opened where. These words shone forth, so clear my eyes could see A sure, swift answer to my spirit's prayer. The storm its fury spent ; o'er white-capped waves, The vessel rode into a calmer sea ; Upheld by One who in all danger saves ; — " What time I am afraid, I'll trust in Thee." IV/iat Time I am Afraid. 87 Through all the land a lurking terror crept ; — The pestilence that in the darkness trod : And strong men bowed, and women prayed and wept ; And stretched mute hands in agony to God. Calmly I walked where men with bated breath Turned faces pale ; — v/ith white lips questioned me : " Hast thou no fear of that dread thing called Death?" — " Nay ! for God's angel in its place I see. " " What time I am afraid," lo ! One is near, Who holds the direst forces at His will. Through storm and pestilence one voice I hear, Clear, sweet and ringing, saying, " Peace ! be still ! " Held by His hand, in danger's paths I tread ; And even Death no harm can bring to me. I walk in safety where His feet have bled ; I walk in darkness where my God can see. O God ! who ever orderest our ways ; From doubt and fear keep us forever free. For notes of woe, give us a song of praise ; — For terror's anguish, a sweet trust in Thee. 88 *'//7/r// / Awah' 1 am Still with Tliccy "WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE." Yes ! still with Thee ! Through clouds the morn is breaking ; The night's dread phantoms from its presence flee; And I, the land of strange, wild dreams forsaking, Awake, rejoicing 1 am still with I'hee. Rejoicing in the strong and sweet assurance, That Thou art near, to soothe and to sustain; — Rejoicing that no grief beyond endurance Can ever crush me with its weight of pain. Rejoicing in the morning's golden splendor ; — Rejoicing in the silver light of noon ; — Rejoicing in the evening calm and tender; — Even in the shadows that may fall so soon. For Thou art with me if I sleep or waken ; By day and night thy shield is o'er me thrown ; And none that trust in Thee shall be forsaken, Though to the world, they seem to walk alone. ''^W/icn I Awake I am Still with Thcc^ 89 Then nevermore will I distrust tliy kindness ; Nor deem Thee fur, because I cannot see, Through earthly mists that veil my eyes in blindness, The. radiant J^resence that doth walk by me. And when the night shall come, all hushed and dream- less. Then may I lay me down in faith serene : And wake to touch the robe of glory, seamless. That veils the embodied form of Love unseen. 90 '' Lovest Thou Me?'' "LOVEST THOU ME? " Simon, oh ! Simon, Lovest thou Me ? '" " Yea, Lord, Thou knowest That I love Thee." " Simon, oh ! Simon, — Out from the fold. On the bleak hill-sides, Hungry and cold, " See my Iambs straying ; Bring them all home ; Shelter them ; feed them; Call them to come ! " Simon, oh ! Simon, Lovest thou Me ? " " Yea ! Lord, thou knowest How I love Thee ! " '' Loves t Thou Me f' 91 " Simon, oh ! Simon, Rest not, nor sleep ! Far in the wilderness. Wander my sheep. " Fainting and weary ; — Wayward and wild ; — Call them, as calleth A mother her child. " By the pure fountains, Life-giving, sweet, — Into green pastures. Lead thou their feet. " Seek for them ! Find them, Where'er they be ! Care for them ! Love them, As thou lovestMe." Simon, oh ! Simon, Hark to the call ! Love for the Master Means, love for all. 92 RevelatioiiSy III. : II. REVELATIONS, III.:ii. Let " no man take thy crown " ! It is for thee alone. Thine through the ages down : Oh ! keep and wear thine own. A crown of Manhood pure, Set with Truth's jewels bright. Of gold that shall endure, Untarnished in the light. A crown of Honor fair. That all the world may see. — A crown a king might wear, And for it kinglier be. A crown of Virtue fine ; — So pure and true a guide, Its light shall round thee shine. And evil from it hide. So thou mayst walk unscarred The path He trod for thee. Whose visage was more marred Than any man's may be. Revelations^ III. : II, 93 The crown of thorns He wore Hath purchased for thee this ; The cross He meekly bore But points thy way to bliss. Let no man take thy crown ! To each is given his own. Some cast the treasure down ; Its worth to them unknown. Some barter it for P'ame, And some for love of gold. One finds an empty name ; — The other, loss untold. Some drown in Pleasure's cup Its priceless jewels rare ; Then sit them down and sup With Want and Woe and Care. Let no man take thy crown ! Lest thy soul with it go. Who casts his birthright down, No other gift may know. Thy crown for Life and Death, — Bear to the great white throne ! Where sits the Lord, who saith, " My jewels are my own." 94 The Bride of Heaven. THE BRIDE OF HEAVEN, I. THE NOVICE. " Out of the depths." Oh, God ! the way is dark ! I cannot see thy face ! Help, that my groping hands may find the ark, Where waits divinest grace. Oh ! Love so measureless ! To which all earthly love Seems naught, o'ershadowed by the tenderness Down-reaching from above. I fain would thirst no more For springs to me denied ! Oh ! lead my feet, in desert paths grown sore, Where living waters glide. I'd hunger not again, By bread unsatisfied ; Nor to Life's tree reach asking hands in vain, For sweeter fruits untried. The Bride of Heaven. 95 Yet, if this lot be mine, — To wait the lengthened years, Life's best ungained, that blissful best divine, Only be won through tears ; Redeemer crucified ! Thou, who once anguish bore ! Help me, by that dear cross where thou hast died, To bear, till all is o'er. g6 The Bfide of Heaven. II. THE NUN. From Pisgah. Oh ! God ! the way is light ! For o'er my path there shines one radiant star, — The star of hope that leads where angels are ; — Beyond, it all is bright. No earthly joy I crave ; Nor on my heart would ever seek to wear A flower too frail, though sweet it seem and fair, To bloom beyond the grave. No other love I seek Than that dear love bestowed by Christ the Son ; The love of Him who all my heart hath won ; — The lowly and the meek. My hunger all is gone ; For meat that perisheth I sigh no more ; For lo ! behold ! just on the farther shore, There, in the waiting dawn. The Bride of Heaven. 97 The "Tree of Life" I see. And on its clustering boughs such fruitage rare, The perfume sweet fills all the ambient air ; — And all this waits for me. No thirst of Love or Fame, Or Pleasure's draught, shall lure my heart from thine, Till in thy kingdom. Lord, I drink the vine With thee, and bless thy name. I thank Thee, Lord, for this ; — The sweetest joy my heart hath ever known ; I thank thee most, that when all joy seemed flown, Thou gavest to me, bliss. I bear no burden more ! For at thy cross, O Christ, the burden fell, And looking back, I see that all was well. — So I press on before. 98 Hymn of Welcome. HYMN OF WELCOME. ^ \lVritten/or an Ordination.^ " Beautiful upon the mountains," Are the glad and willing feet Of the one who brings " good tidings," And proclaims a gospel sweet, Welcome ! brother, with thy message ! Glad, thy coming we will greet. Oft in beauty on these hill-sides, Worn and weary feet have trod ; Bearing with them words of comfort, As a message sent from God. Some are called to other vineyards ; — Some are resting 'neath the sod. Welcome to their place, left vacant ! Thou mayst reap what they have sown Thou in turn shalt sow for others ; All God's harvest fields are one. Joy, to labor where the Father Sent his loved and only Son. Hymn of Welcome. 99 Welcome ! brother, friend and teacher ! So thou bring a message true, All our hearts we'll gladly open, All our hands extend to you. Pledge of faith 'twixt church and pastor, Joyfully, to-day renew. Welcome to our homes and firesides ! Pastor ! Shepherd ! sweet the name ! Bear with us ! for our forbearance May we ne'er forget thy claim. For the end for which we labor Is, and must be, still the same. Welcome to our waiting pulpit ! Welcome to our place of prayer ! May such blessing wait thy labors That the Master'll say — up there : "Well done ! good and faithful servant! Welcome thou, a crown to wear." 100 In Memoriam. IN MEMORIAM. MRS. P. D. R. Oh ! loved and lost ! What flowers bright were blooming For thee to gather in those gardens fair? What loving angel waited for thy coming ? What seraph band greeted thy entrance there ? Buds thou didst miss from out thy earthly garden ; — Were they not waiting there in bloom for thee ? Perchance some dear loved saint has been the warden Of all thy treasures in that home to be. Treasures in Heaven ! Wisely hast thou builded Who placed no store-house on the shifting sands ; Nor kept thy gems in some fair palace, gilded, But frailly fashioned by weak human hands. Treasures in Heaven ! He knew with what fond pas- sion We cling to all we hold on earth most dear ; Who lived and loved after an earthly fashion, But saw love's future with a foresight clear. In Memoriam. lOi With divine pity for their human sorrow, Yet soothing never with unmeaning phrase, From Death's dark night to Life's sweet dawning mor- row, He taught his loved ones eyes of hope to raise. That vain the treasure from the heart to sever, He knew, who loved each loving friend so well. So passing onward to the bright forever. He mansions sought where his beloved should dwell. Oh, loved ! — not lost ! — for in thy Father's keeping. There, as on earth, thou doest still His will. But free henceforth from sorrow, pain or weeping, Joy in full measure, all thy cup shall fill. Why should we mourn that thou hast found the treasure. We seek through life with unavailing quest. Why should we weep, that having filled the measure Of earthly sorrow. Heaven gives thee rest. Rest from all pain ; — but never rest from doing The kindly deeds that won thee earthly love. With smile and loving word, thy work pursuing ; We think of thee in that sweet home above. I02 /;/ Memoriam. We would not deck thy grave with ininiortelles ; — The cold, white blossoms that we give our dead. But over it let wild flowers swing their bells ; And violets their nameless fragrance shed. Loved, but not lost ! We shall again behold thee, When Death shall crown us with eternal peace ; With loving arms we will once more enfold thee, Where all the surging waves of life shall cease. Gone Hor}u. 103 GONE HOME, MRS. F. M. B. Weep not for her ! She is not dead, but sleepeth ; — The restful sleep she long hath sought in vain. And over her the loving Father keepeth Safe watch and ward, till she shall wake again. Oh ! blissful waking ! where there's no more sorrow ; No tears to wipe, no anguish to allay. A night of rest ; — a bright and cloudless morrow ; To her the dawning of eternal day. No night is there ; — for never shall grow weary, The blessed ones that walk in Heaven's light. No dread of coming age ; — no darkness dreary; But eyes undimmed to gaze on glory bright. No pain is there ! Ah ! joy for her that bore it Meekly and patiently as Christ, her Lord. Sad suffering's crown ! — how regally she wore it ; — With never from her lips one murmuring word. 104 Gone Home. 'Tis past ! She bows before the throne eternal. She sees the Face she loved unseen, below ; Turns her rapt gaze to mountains ever vernal, All glory lighted from the Central Glow. Now by the "Tree of Life," O friend, behold her! She tastes its fruit to hunger not again ; Ah! would you now with earthly arms enfold her?- Arms that were powerless to shield from pain ? Now by the crystal waters see her kneeling ; The draught is sweet, and she will thirst no more. She lifts her face ; the old sweet smile is stealing All gloritied her angel features o'er. You'll know her by that smile in Heaven's glory, Though all transfigured face and form may be ; — The smile that told to all her life's sweet story ; — A pure evangel for the world to see. And he who in his glad youth went before her; — Will she not find him in the waiting throng 1 Yes ! with the blessed light of Heaven o'er her, He must know her, he has awaited long. She heard him calling, on her low bed lying ; 'Twas the still night-time, and she knew the call. She said, "I'll come : I do but wait the dying ; 'Tis going home, and I am ready all." Gone Home. 105 Weep not for her ! Dost hear her clear voice ringing In glad hosannas with the saints above ? And now the old, sweet song her lips are singing ; — The Song of Songs; — Song of Redeeming Love. io6 For the Mot her of an Angel. FOR THE MOTHER OF AN ANGEL 1868. Out of the darkness into the light, — Out of the wind and the storm, — Glides a boat with an angel bright, Bearing a childish form. Flaxen ringlets the sun has kissed, Floating o'er shoulders white ; — Eyes that were shut in a violet mist ; — Wide, with a new glad light. What ? ah ! what does the bab)- see As he nears the shining shore ? Baby has had two years to be, Now to live evermore. Smiling faces and outstretched hands; — Mothers with babes below ; — Baby sees as he nears the sands, Where the shinin^^ an":els r one who wears tlie silver erown of age. And blesses God that his life's heritage Is where, from heights serene, no longer fears Of coming ill shall e'er his peace destroy ? Are they who sow the seed more blest than those Who bear away the sheaves of ripened grain ? Is the day's dawning sweeter than its close, When sunset glories tlood the hills and plain ? Oh crowned of eighty years ! Envy not those Who bear the heat and burden of the day ! Three score and ten sat lightly on thy brow ; — By temperance and cheerful toil hast thou Kept all the foes of peace and health at bay ; And to thy face added serene repose. EigJiticth Birthday. 135 If God could give thee back thy vanished youth, Dost tiiink that lliou wouldst ask it at His hand ; When just beyond eternal hills of truth In all the glories of the morning stand ? One decade more was added to thy span Because thou livedst well the life He gave. — And still the years sit lightly on thy brow; With strength vouchsafed to few thou standest now; — And still the gift of life for thee we crave ; — Who makes the most of life, is most a man. , Labor and sorrow ! Not for him who leaves Spring's witiiercd blossoms for their fruit of gold ; The buried seed binds into harvest sheaves ; — And owns the new is better than the old. Oh crowned of eighty years ! We come to-day, Who love thee well, to look upon thy face ; To clasp thy hand, and learn from thee to live Our years, though few or many, so they give To us some portion of the peace and grace They wear, who lean upon their (}od alway. And some are with us thou hast loved of yore, — Unseen by thee ; because thou canst not see As yet beyond the veil that hangs before The life eternal, 'J'hcy but wait for thee 136 Eig^htUtk Birthday. A little while. Is not hope more to-day Than all the cherished dreams of ardent youth ? A little while ! Still pressing on before. As one wi:h eager steps doth seek the door Where waiteth all he knows of love and truth ; — Xor looketh backward in his onward way : So thou each day art drawing nearer home ; Nearer to those thine eyes ha\-e longed to see : And soon thou'lt hear His welcome ^-oice say, " Come •Up higher ; where the angels wait for thee." Eightieth Birthday. 137 WRITTEN FOR THE EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY OF MISS CHARITY S. April 17, 1878. We stand upon the threshold of the years, And look with eager longings on before ; The opening vista, roseate clouds hang o'er; And bows of promise arch in place of tears. Our birthdays come like good gifts long delayed ; Time scarce keeps pace with childhood's restless feet ; And all its milestones are enwreathed with sweet, Fair, clinging vines, by flowers overlaid. On such a morn as this, long years ago, A child stood smiling in her life's glad Spring ; To-day, we do to her this tribute bring, Who still can smile where tides no longer flow. The years that move so slowly at the start, Like great wheels turning with accelerate speed. Roll past the meadows green, and flowery mead Of youth, nor pause within the busy mart, 138 EightirtJt Birthday. \\'hero burdens must be borne and duties done. And crosses taken up to lay not down. — Through many a heart-ache do we win the crown That has no thorns, in reahns beyond the sun. So to tlie child, the swift years rolling round Brought woman's cares and duties: — woman's pain ! Brave woman-soul ! that counted loss as gain ; And gathered up the pearls that she had found I And now the wheels roll down the sunset slope. With swift and ever swifter whirling speed : No more past sunny banks or fragrant mead ; But rocks, moss grown, gemmed with white flowers of hope. And now they near the silent gliding stream ; Crosses and burdens sink beneath the wave : The weary feet, the cooling waters lave ; And just beyond, the sunlit mountains gleam. And there the woman stands, serene in age ; Earth life behind ; — eternal life before : She knows the worth of all that is no more ; But sees beyond a priceless heritage. Eightieth Birthday. 139 Honored by length of years, 'tis hers to show The sun shines fairest ere it sinks to rest ; That of a well spent life the last is best, Though something of past joy it must forego. Yet it is good for four score years to live When life is real. Not they who dream and stay, Or idly fritter precious years away, Know life's best gift, — to which they nothing give. Our friend, it crowns. We greet her here to-day ! Her life of patient labor, cheerful trust, Shows not one folded talent laid to rust, To turn the Master's face from hers away. Not measured by the scope of that wherein The life must move, when God has set the bound ; — Walking her simple duty's daily round. She finds the goal that others strive to win. We read in the Good Book of graces three : Faith waits serene ; Hope smiles in every place. But she who wears God's impress on her face, Sweetest and best of all, is Chanty. BALLAD OF THE PLEIADES 141 THE PLEIADES, A BALLAD, There were seven sisters whose lives were one ; They dwelt in a palace old. And all one day as they sat and spun, Each her last night's vision told. " In my dream, I thought," said the eldest one, " That I sat upon a throne. While over me burned a scorching sun, And of shelter there was none. " 'Long live, O Queen ! ' cried the shouting crowd ; ' As the stars their courses run ! ' ' Long live, O Queen ! ' and the courtiers bowed, While over me blazed the sun. " For years and years in that burning heat, I was doomed to my weary throne. While the world knelt fawning at my feet, I must bear my pain alone. 143 144 TJie Pleiades: " ' O God ! ' I cried, and I shrieked aloud ; ' It is more than I can bear.' Then the sun went out in an angry cloud, And the lightnings rent the air. " The thunders shook my very throne ; I felt it totter and fall. And I was left in the wreck alone : — They had fled, — the courtiers all. " I woke to behold the morning's gleam In my sister's golden hair ; And I thanked my God it was but a dream, As I knelt in my chamber fair." " 'Twas a strange, sad dream," the second said; " But a sadder came to me. Last night I stood 'mid the countless dead. In the depths of an unknown sea. "Wherever I turned were jewels rare ; There were marvels of wealth untold ; But the dead looked on with a stony stare ; And the hands I touched were cold. " On a bed of coral a maiden lay, On her bosom a gleaming pearl ; While near her a woman, with locks of gray, Held tightly a golden curl. A Ballad. 145 "A babe was pressed to its mother's breast, And a strong man clutched his gold ; While sweetly taking his long, long rest, Lay a sailor brave and bold. "Oh ! the silence of that awful deep, Alone with the silent dead ! I was weary, weary, but could not sleep On the slime of the ocean-bed. " I cried aloud ; — but no voice could rise Through that dense and soundless wall. The dead were deaf to my groans and cries ; And the dead, — alas ! were all. " ' Ah ! welcome, sister ! ' a sweet voice cried ; And I saw a vision fair ; — A mermaid slipping adown the tide. Close wrapped in her gold-green hair. " She wreathed my neck with her fair white arms ; They were cold as the ocean wave. * Henceforth thou'rt sealed with a mermaid's charms. Thy home is yon coral cave. " 'The living thou'lt lure to the halls of death. But only the dead are thine ' ; — I woke ; ah ! joy ! 'twas my sister's breath, And her warm lips pressing mine." 146 TJie Pleiades: "I dreamed," said the third, "O sisters sweet! I walked in a garden fair. I crushed rare flowers with my bare, white feet ; — But a serpent was trailing there. " I could not fly, though my blood ran cold ; Transfixed, I stood and gazed. There was grace in each coiling, sinuous fold, And many the serpent praised. " But the flowers were blighted where he crept, And the roses red grew pale : The violets shrank, and the tall ferns wept. When they saw the serpent's trail. " It smirched the lily's fair white dress. And the daisy drooped and died. And the rarest flower of its loveliness, Was shorn at the serpent's side. "Where he wound his length round a stately tree, » Though goodly and strong and fair; — A blasted and blackened line would be, As if lightnino: had traversed there. 'ts' "Then the flowers looked up with pleading eyes ; And the trees rose in their might. ' So God be with us, this monster dies ! ' And he glided from my sight. A Ballad. 147 "But the garden was no longer fair; For the serpent had left his trail. Alone, I stood in a desert bare ; And wept till the stars grew pale. " Oh sisters sweet ! how I woke to bless My God, that the night had fled. I heard, with a thrill of tenderness, Your voices around my bed." The fourth, — the gentlest of the band, — Spoke low, with tear-dimmed eyes ; " I saw last night in a distant land A city before me rise ; — "A beautiful city, with spires and domes, And palaces fair and grand ; There were halls of learning and princely homes, And wealth upon every hand. *' But over the city's very heart Was hanging a lurid cloud. I walked with the crowed in the busy mart, And oh ! such a dreary crowd. "Upon every face was blank despair. Or terror dumb and pale ; For a dreadful thing was walking there ; Its breath was on every gale. 148 The Pleiades : " Night spread its mantle o'er spires and domes ; The city's streets were still. The men withdrew to their silent homes; And the pestilence worked its will. "•Then over the pavements the dead carts rolled. But the living followed not. The clocks of midnight slowly tolled ; I was chained to that dreary spot. " ' Oh ! bury my dead ! ' a hoarse voice said ; ' Come bury my dead for me ! ' I turned and looked; 'twas the Presence dread ; - A horrid thing to see. " He wound his skeleton arms around My neck, and I felt his breath. My dumb lips uttered never a sound ; Oh ! sisters — it was Death." A hush of awe on the little band ; — A silence of bated breath ; — Then one with a solemn, upraised hand. Said : " Dear hearts ! Love conquers Death." " I too have walked in the land of dreams; My path was through meadows fair ; In sunny pastures, by gliding streams, I gathered the flowerets rare. A Ballad. 149 " At last I stood by a river's brink ; — A river swift and wide ; — A lamb that came to the verge to drink, Slipped into the rushing tide. " A child was near him, a blue-eyed boy. ' Oh ! my lamb ! my lamb ! ' he cried ; Springing into his boat, — a wee frail toy, — He followed over the tide. " * My child ! my child ! ' cried a woman's voice, * Oh ! help me to save my child.' A boat was near me ; — I had no choice ; We launched on the waters wild. " The child his cherished lamb had caught ; With one arm he plied the oar. In vain with his little strength he sought To reach again the shore. *' We followed close, and we followed fast ; But onward the frail boat sped ; Till all in the rapids we met at last ; — And the falls were just ahead. " A kind wave washed us upon the shore ; I thought God guided the wave. But the mother wept for her child no more ; — The child that she could not save. ISO The Pleiades: " Round tho lambkin's neck one fair, wliitc arm The poor, diunb thing caressed; — And the child was safe from all earthly harm, Pressed close to his mother's breast." The eyes of the group were wet with tears ; They whispered under their breath ; "Oh ! Life is swayed by its hopes and fears; Put 'tis Love that conquers Death." '' Now prithee, sister, whv look so pale ! How fared the night with thee?" " Oh ! I cannot tell the dreadful tale, For the horror it brought to me. " I stood alone on a mountain high; A cloud hid the vale beneath. The sun rose clear in the eastern skv. And parted the misty wreath, " That clung to the sides of the mountain bare ; Wlien a darker, denser cloud Hung low and black o'er the vallev fair; And echoing long and loud, ** I heard the fearful cannon's boom ; Knew the battle's deadly frav. Strange world ! that had for its sons no room ; But one must the other slav. A Ballad. 151 *' 'I'Jie sun rode lii;^li in the noon-day sky; — Slill the clasli of contending foes. One moment I saw their banners fly, Next the battle's deadly close. "They fought till the summer's sun hung low ; — The sun had grown bloody red ; And it cast its glow o'er the flying foe , O'er the dying and the dead. "My heart stood still with a dreadful fear; IJut I knew the conflict past ; And nearer and nearer I crept, till near The horror I caine at last. " Oh ! the sight that I witnessed then, my dears, I shall see to my dying day. It will haunt and haunt me through the years, It will go with me alway. " For the peace of your souls I would not tell, Though I know the vision true. — Did ever an artist paint a hell ? — Let this be enough for you; ''The only living things I left On that fearful field of woe, Were, — a woman of her sense bereft, — A vulture, and a crow." 152 The Pleiades: '' Come now, our youngest, our darling sprite, With thy distaff on thy knee ; We trust no vision of the night A terror hath brought to thee." She had spun in silence ; the golden thread Slipping fast through her fingers white. She only lifted her eyes and said : "The web will be done to-night. "Think of your dreams, and think of my love, When I shall be far away. The ark is too narrow to hold the dove, The world is too wide to stay. " Of that world, dear sisters, you all have dreamed Your visions and mine were one ; But what to you but a nightmare seemed, Is an evil under the sun. "The world you traversed is called the earth; It once was a garden fair ; But the serpent Wrong, of Sin had birth, And his trail is everywhere. " Wherever he glides is want and woe ; Wherever he glides is pain ; But Love is mightier than all below ; O'er Love all his arts are vain. A Ballad. 153 *' That world, death-stricken, I'll walk within ; And Love shall be my guide. I will lure young feet from the paths of sin, And the tempter shall turn aside. " Where the pestilence goeth I will go ; I will watch by the couch of pain ; I will pass cool hands o'er the fevered brow, And the pulses shall bound again. " I will go with the mariner on the deep ; 1 will pray for the unknown dead ; And for living ones who sad vigils keep, And will not be comforted. " To the king unloved and the slave unknown, — For poverty's need and the pain of power, — I will bring a balm of the dear Lord's own, Distilled from His Passion-flower. " I will glide unseen o'er the battle-field. And the carnage of war will cease. With Love for my watch- word and my shield, I will usher the dawn of Peace. '' But, sisters, I know, though gladly I go, I shall pine for your dear love ; And every night that 1 walk below, I shall watch for your lamps above." 154 ^'^^^ Pleiades: " We will burn our lamps in our chambers white, The shutters we'll open wide ; For thee, dear sister, shall shine their light, While Love and the stars abide." In the palace windows each starry night You can see those six lamps glow ; But whether the sisters still tend their light, I do not pretend to know. Nor whether the lost one reached the earth, Or wanders among the spheres ; — I know there are souls of equal worth. That have been with us for years. I know there are loving ones like her, Who have given their lives for love : — And we, who are of the world, aver, They are angels from above. MISCELLANEOUS '55 MISCELLANEOUS. THE SPINNING-WHEEL'S STORY. I HAVE in my mind a garret, Where 'neath cobwebbed rafters low, Is many a quaint old treasure. That would drive quite wild, I trow, A bric-^-brac collector, If I should tell him where Is the garret dim and dusty. That holds these treasures rare. To that garret oft in childhood I went with my mates to play. We rocked ourselves in the cradle Where grandmother's babies lay. We sat in the straight-backed chairs, And wore a high cap and gown ; While our brother shouldered the musket, From his grandsire handed down. 157 . 158 TJie Spinning- Wheel 's Story. From a hair trunk by the chimney Peeped letters yellow with age. And over it from the rafters, Hung the peppermint and sage. We pored o'er the quaint old letters, And laughed at the stilted lines ; But one, — a gem in its beauty, In my memory ever shines. In a corner of the garret Stood the great spinning-wheel ; And close by its side, one smaller ; Some " swifts," and a ticking " reel." And once in the ghostly twilight, The old wheel found a tongue. There were none but myself to hear it ; — And this is the song that it sung : Come listen, fair maiden ! while I shall reveal The sorrows and wrongs of an old spinning-wheel ! Many long years have passed ; many bright joys have fled ; Many hopes have been cherished, now withered and dead, Since first, 'mid the world's ceaseless bustle and strife, I commenced my career of laborious life. Laborious 'twas then ; but alas ! useless now ! How is it, fair maiden ! oh ! pray, tell me how. TJie Spinning- W/ieers Story. 159 The world is so changed, that worth honest and true Must ever give place to the thing that is new; That the aged and poor, scorn are doomed to endure, While fashion and riches of homage are sure ? How is it that all that is useless and vain Forthwith every maiden will strive to obtain ? While, — ah ! my heart aches as the tale I reveal ; — Rests the dust of long years on the old spinning-wheel. But memory turns to a happier time ; When I, in my beauty and youthful prime, A present was made to the fair young bride, Whose clean-swept hearth-stone I sang beside. Where the blazing" home-fire brightly burned ; — And I was by busy lingers turned. I see her now in her home-spun gown ; Her cheeks were red, and her hands were brown ; — And her voice was like to a sweet bell's chime. She sang as she spun, and her feet kept time ; — Her nimble feet that went to and fro As the wheel turned fast, or the wheel turned slow. And her song seemed ever more glad to me Than the song of the birds in the maple-tree ; — The maple-tree with its branches green, Where the sunlight danced the leaves between. It stood so close to the cottao:e door l6o TJie Spiuning-Whccrs Star}'. That its spreading boughs the roof hung o'er : And the young leaves budded, grew bright, then sere, With the changing moods of the changing year. Time passed ; and the home-tire more brightly shone ; For childhood was there with its joyous tone. And its dancing step, and its laugh of glee. — I could weep, if such a thing might be, As out from the dim and misty past, One picture glows, — the sweetest, — last. — A picture 'tis of a maiden fair. With gleams of gold in her shining hair. Who has learned her mother's place to take By the busy wheel, where her fingers make The nimble spokes go round and round. Till all are lulled by the drowsy sound. And puss, who has lain on the rug all day. Is fast asleep by the side of Tray : — \Miile the mother sits in her easy-chair. With her placid brow and her silver hair. Knitting and dreaming of youth's glad time ; — And the tall clock ticks to a ceaseless rhyme. Ah ! many a scene of joyous mirth Have I witnessed beside that household hearth ! And manv a merry laugh there rung When the maple leaves were green and young. The Sphinhig-Wheer s Story. i6i There were scenes, too, of sorrow as well as joy. When in happiness' cup mingled grief's alloy ; And the trembling lip spoke the last farewell, Which bringeth a pang no words can tell ! The home-chain is broken ! — the last link is gone ! The aged ones rest 'neath the churchyard stone! Youth's hope-freighted barque can return no more, For the tide has ebbed from the boyhood shore ! And the maiden passed to the " mansions fair," Ere the gold had paled in her shining hair ; Where for aye immortal youth awaits The soul that has won the pearly gates. The home-chain is broken ! — the last link is gone ! New faces are round the old hearth-stone ! But I look in vain for the friends of yore : — My day of toil and of pleasure is o'er : And here in this garret I'm cruelly thrust, 'Mid senseless rubbish, all soiled with dust, — A useless thing, to bemoan my fate ; — Sadly to mourn, and idly to wait For the life that never can come to me ; — For the hands that are folded silently. * 1 62 Moiia : MONA, A LOVE-STORY IN RHYME. Down by the brook, where the willows meet, Once on a time, came a maiden sweet. 'Twas her bridal eve, — but no bridesmaids fair, Laughingly waited to greet her there. Lightly she parted the leafy screen ; Softly she knelt on the carpet green. Her toilet chamber was pure and fine. Ceiled and curtained by art divine ; — Her mirror, a spot where the waters cool Formed 'neath the shadows a limpid pool. She saw reflected a bright, arch face. And limbs unfettered in native grace. And smiled as she braided her dusky hair, And twined in its shadows roses fair. A Love-Story in Rhyme. 163 Child of a dark and swarthy race ; — Yet not unlovely that youthful face. For a woman's soul looked out from eyes, Whose depths were glowing with love's surprise. And a warm blush burned in her olive cheek, Recalling the words she heard him speak, Who came that morn from the hill-tops down. As the sunrise lit their peaks of brown ; — A warrior-god, to her dazzled eyes ; Who gazed a moment in quick surprise, As the girl sprang up with a fawn-like grace ; Then turned on him her wondering face. Ne'er in her eyes had such wampum gleamed ; Never before was such blanket, seamed With broidered gold, or such plumage rare, As brightly waved o'er the long, black hair. With courtly phrase by Nature taught. Or from some pale-faced captive caught ; 164 Mo7ia: The dark-browed youth the silence broke ; And thus in honeyed accents spoke : " On the wild deer's track, to this place I came ; I have found a flower ; may I know its name ? " The quick blood mounted to cheek and brow, As pleased, the maiden answered low : " Mona ; my mother calleth me. My father's face, I no more shall see, " For many seasons have gone their rounds, Since he went to the happy hunting-grounds. " And the name I bear was the last that fell From the lips of one who loved me well." The chief's bold eyes with a soft light shone, As he took the brown hand in his own : "Mona, dost know that last night I dreamed I had caught a fawn ; and it ever seemed " With shy sweet eyes to look in mine. With the dawn it fled ; — but the eyes were thine ; A Love-Story in Rhyme. 165 " I mind me, 'twas under an old oak-tree, Like this, that the vision came to me." Wondering, trusting, she sat her down By his side, on the moss with acorns brown. Side by side in the forest old. The youth and maiden their story told; — The old, sweet story that's ever new, Where young hearts beat, and lives are true. He told of a home toward the setting sun, — Of an aged chieftain whose work was done, Who sat all day in the wigwam door, Watching for him when the hunt was o'er ; — Counting the trophies with childish glee ; — Recounting again in memory. Spoils he would never again bring home ; — Hunting fields he no more would roam, Till away beyond the setting sun, Where Death should bear him, when life was done 1 66 Mona: He would find the strength that had vanished here ; And again pursue the antlered deer. She spoke of a mother sad and lone, Whose only joy was the love that shone. In the child's fond eyes that had caught their light, From eyes that were long since closed in night. "The squaw is lonely; the chieftain old; Both shall my sheltering wigwam hold, •' If the sweet wild flower I have found to-day, I may bear with me to my home away." Side by side till the noon's broad rays Pierce through the forest's leafy maze, The maiden shy, and the warrior bold. Still sit, with their story half untold. But when the moon's broad disc shall show Above the eastern hills, and throw Its light across the forest wide ; And down the river's rippling tide ; A Love- Story ifi Rhyme. 167 Mona has promised with him to go ; To be his forever in wealor woe. — His, through all the long, bright Junes, — His, in the still October noons. — His, till they wait by the Silent Strand ; — His, when they reach the Spirit Land. Oh ! Love and Youth ! ye are still the same, As when in the by-gone centuries came. The patriarch's son to the well of old, Where the dark-eyed Rachel led her fold. Nor birth nor culture alone can claim Thy gift, for the savage feels the flame ; And it burns as pure by the cottage hearth, As among the palaces of earth. Oh ! Love and Youth ! given once to all ! Once lost, they are gone beyond recall ; Oh ! keep them pure, and keep them true ! And Heaven will guard them both for you. 1 68 Jephthah arid His Daughter. JEPHTHAH AND HIS DAUGHTER. " The vow is made ! my beautiful ; my own ! My pure white virgin, spotless, undefiled ! Oh could I in my pride of will have known That Heaven would ask my only, darling child, The hot rash vow would have been left unspoken ! — I had not lived to see thy fond heart broken. " Glad in my triumph thou didst bound to meet me ; - Fairest of all the maidens in thy train ; — With song and dance thou earnest forth to greet me ; Would God that I had come a warrior slain, Borne on his bier ! thou wouldst have wept for me ; — But life, hope, love would have been left to thee. " Oh ! it has ever been my lot to bring Sorrow upon the ones I have loved most ! Even Heaven would not accept my offering, But it must be at such a cruel cost. That I could wish the day had never been. That ushered me to life, — a child of sin. Jephthah and His Daughter. 169 " That I must suffer for my parent's wrong I ever knew was the divine decree. But that the curse should glide the years along, And fall, my innocent white dove, on thee ! I did not think of this, when Heaven gave me So pure a soul, I thought its breath could save me. " I well remember in my exile, how That thou wert my chief solace and my pride. Disowned by kindred, yet so dear wert thou, I cared for naught thy clinging love beside. Ah! woe the day! when to lead Israel's host, Ambition lured me at such fatal cost. " My child ! — by mine own hand ! — when life is sweet ; And nature's voices all have songs for thee ! Thou hardly movest save with dancing feet ; Thy lips like singing birds are wont to be ! Or fountains bubbling o'er with sweetest laughter : — Oh, how can these be mute, and I live after ! "Alas! my daughter, thou hast brought me low I No more to battle's clarion trump shall wake My heart, that lieth cold as Lebanon's snow ; — So numb and palsied that it cannot break. Forgive that I should prate of my own grief ! If I could weep for thee, — tears were relief. 170 JephtJiah and His Daughter. " That thou shouldst never thrill to lover's kiss ; Nor feel a child's soft arm around thee twine ! For Israel's daughter, what more sad than this, — To know thou canst not call a man child thine ! Nor of some princely warrior, tell another ; — So proud in telling it ; — 'I am his mother ! ' " Pale as the sculptured marble and as still, The maiden stood and calmly heard her doom. From lips of one whose undisputed will Had been her law^ : — but in her heart no room Was there for selfish fear ; — true to his honor. She would for his oath's sake, take death upon her. " Since thou hast vowed, my father, it is well ; So let it be according to thy word ! But give me leave a little while to dwell Among the mountains, where is never heard By any human ear, the anguished moan Of grief that can be told to God alone ! " As drowning men do catch at any spar That keeps their heads awhile above the wave, To watch with strained eyes some ship afar, That sails right on, nor ever turns to save ; — So Jephthah's heavy heart gave quick rebound ; Eager to seize upon the respite found. JephtJiaJi and His Daughicr. 171 '' Aye, go with thy great sorrow to the mountains ! To the strong hills; — they'll give thee strength to bear. And let thy maidens weep till the sweet fountains Of tears are dry; then kneel in suppliant prayer, That if for thee must be this bitter cross Heaven's love may recompense for earthly loss ! " And pray for me, my daughter! Prayer falls dead From lips like mine ; it hath no power to rise. Only my rash and fateful vow instead. In lightning letters burns before my eyes ; — Since hope and faith are lost, ask thou of Heaven, That for thy wrong, my wretched soul be shriven ! " One moment, two soft arms around him clung, And kisses hot with tears were on him showered. Then mute, erect, proud Jcphthah's daughter flung Her loose hair back ; — with regal will endowered She went from out his sight ; — a child no longer ; — But a proud woman, — brave as he, — and stronger. And Jephthah bowed, and hid his face within His mantle's folds, and prayed that he might die. But death came not. For him the past had been, For him the months with fated speed went by ; — And she returned. The record tells not how But, that ; " He did according to his vow.^^ J 2 Heaven. HEAVEN. We dream of Heaven, and fondly deem the place Where souls are blest, must lie beyond the stars. We strive ; — but fail to win life's truest grace, Because we make its limits prison bars. Yet we may have Heaven with us if we will ; Its fair light shining wheresoe'er we go. To our own choice is given good or ill. — It is not fate that keeps our feet so low. If God had made us fair and pure as they, Who lost their Eden, and on whom the curse Of every blighted life we fain would lay, — We had not been the better or the worse. Were all good ours, — like that first hapless pair, We still should reach to taste the bitter fruit. Our eager haste to test all things that are, Is ever of our miserv the root. Heaven. I73 God grants to every longing soul its need. Did we but wisely use the talent given, Its very growth would be its own best meed ; — A foretaste of the perfect joy of Heaven. But ill-content within our narrow sphere, Like caged birds we beat against the wires. Our very songs are not for others' cheer ; But plaintive moans of unfulfilled desires. Yet some toil manfully the tide to stem 'Neath darker skies than we have ever known. They find a pebble where we grasp a gem ; But bread unshared — ah ! better were it stone. God counts him greatest who unto the least Doth service do, as one would serve his Lord. No haughty Levite or unwilling priest Can claim at last from Him the great reward. Then let us give as God gives, asking naught But that our brother's is the greater need ! And Heaven's benevicence is in our thought ; — The smaller bounty makes not less the deed. It may be nothing but a kindly word ; It may be nothing but a smile or tear ; But richer depths within our hearts are stirred. When, self forgetting, other hearts we cheer. 1 74 Heaven. It matters not to us where Heaven may lie ; Yon fleecy cloud may hide its jasper walls ; It may be years afar ; — it may be nigh ; — Our Heaven is here until the Master calls. Bethlehem, N. H, 175 BETHLEHEM, N. H. (1882.) Oh ! fair and green were the hillsides Of the Bethlehem of old ; And sweet were the stars that shone on The shepherds that watched their fold. But sitting here by my window, In the light of the sunset glow, I look upon circling mountains, Where the shadows come and go. And beyond and behind them, mountains, To the far horizon's rim ; Where purple and gold and opal. Fade away in the distance dim. And just where the sun has vanished, Ships of gold on a crimson sea, Ride slowly into the h*arbor. Where the haven of rest must be. Now the evening star above them. Glows with as tender a light, As the star that shone on the cradle Of the Babe, that wondrous night. 176 Bethlehem, N. H. And I fancy I hear the angels In their jubilant song of peace ; For the harps that were then awakened; Through the ages will never cease. Yea, it seems that the Lord is nearer In these high and pure retreats, Than down in the darksome valleys, Or the city's noisy streets. His glory is all around us ; The heavens declare it true ; And the light that guided the Magi, Rests on Bethlehem the new. No need for the moon to light it ; No need for the stars to shine ; One glory exceedeth another. And the beauty is all divine ; For lo ! from horizon to zenith. In a thousand undulant waves. The auroral lights are streaming From the far-off northern caves. The opal of sunset has faded ; The Heaven has opened to view ; And I see the " many mansions," And the fair light shining through. Bethlehem, N. H. lyy Look ! now 'tis a street of the City, And now 'tis an angel's wing ; And now 'tis the wonderful river ; — Now the pearl gates open swing. Though fair and green were the hillsides Of the Bethlehem of old, Before me here in the north-land Doth a vision as fair unfold. From the grand encircling mountains To the grander heavens above, I turn till, with beauty drunken, — I kneel at the feet of Love. 178 After Battle. AFTER BATTLE (1864), Our troops are advancing ! Along the wires glancing, Comes flashing in letters of light ; This ; — " We are victorious ! The foe flee before us ! " — But where is our loved one to-night ? Our hearts with joy welling, With gratitude swelling, We read of the rout and the flight. But a boding fear haunts us ; And one sad thought daunts us ; - Ah ! where is our loved one to-night ? 'Mid the brave who are lying Dead, wounded or dying, Or still pressing on in the fight? On the death-roll of Fame There is many a name ; Ay ; scan the lists closely to-night ! After Battle. 179 Thank God ! it's not there ! What a heart-lift of care ! What praise to the Giver of light ! With a tear for hearts riven In sympathy given ; We can pray for our loved one to-night. Two days ; — and a letter ! Brief words ; — but none better ! " Victorious ; — and I am ' all right.' And far up the valley ♦ With no time to rally, The foe is before us in flight. " My comrade lies sleeping ! 'Tis no place for weeping ! He died for the true and the right. And God will defend us, And more success send us ; — Give thanks for your loved one to-night ! " So day by day sends us Some good news, which lends us New strength and new hope for the right. Our daily tasks doing. With still hearts pursuing, We wait for the tidings at night. i8o After Battle. For days no dispatches ! The weary night watches Are filled with foreboding, till light Brings hope for despairing : — But darkness comes, bearing No news from the loved one to-night. By our lone hearth now sitting, We are quietly knitting ; With a hope, born of faith, that all's right. • In God's trust abiding, — To his care confiding Our cause and our loved one to-night. Life, i8i LIFE, Life hath joys as well as sorrows ; Life hath hopes as well as fears ; Sad to-days and glad to-morrows Mingle in the track of years. Never night but brings its morning ; Sunshine comes, and shadows flee ; Death but waits upon the dawning Of the life that is to be. Child of sorrow ! heir of sadness ! Shines no light your dark way o'er ? Breast the wave ! Eternal gladness Waits upon the farther shore. Does the way seem long and dreary? Find some noble work to do ! Rest waits only for the weary ; Work and rest are both for you. 1 82 Life. Bear some burden for another ! By some kindly word or deed, You may raise a fallen brother; You may help a friend in need. Up! no longer sit repining ! — Life's web idle in the loom ; Weave it so, God's will divining, Threads of gold shall there find room ! Remoiistrajice. 183 REMONSTRANCE, Oh, roses fair ! why will ye bloom To mock me with my woe ; When she, the fairest rose of all. Has faded long ago. Oh, violet ! why thine eye of blue So softly raise to mine ? Eyes that were long since closed in death, Seem looking out from thine. Oh, robin ! why salute mine ear With notes so glad and free ? — The voice that once rang through the grove Had sweeter melody. Oh, streamlet ! why go glancing on In light and laughing glee ? I seem to see a fairy form Go flitting thus by me. 1 84 Remonstrance. But when my eager arms I stretch, To clasp her to my heart ; They only close on viewless air ; — And then the tear-drops start. And ye ! ye bright and gladsome things ! Ye mock me wi th my woe ; Ye could not know the peerless one Who faded long ago. April /, i8'](). 1^5 APRIL I, 1879. Still, Winter reigns supreme ! and all the ground Is white with snow, that should be waiting brown, And pulsing glad beneath the feet of Spring. Not yet, not yet, doth any robin sing ! Only the clamorous crows the silence drown ; — Only the freed brooks have a spring-like sound. I Warm glows the sun beneath the arch of sky Surely that sky is like the sky of Spring Surely yon clouds, are like to those I've seen Oft mirrored in a lake, with fringes green. Formed by the bending trees, that shadows fling, Beneath the wavelets lightly rippling by. But hark ! I hear the music of the bells ! Sleigh bells ? ah ! yes ! 'tis Winter, Winter yet. But what a rosy glow is on those hills ! With what exultant freedom leap the rills ! Will not their glad song wake the violet, All cool and fresh within her shady dells ? S6 April /, iS-jg. Beneath the snow the sunny crocus waits ; The sweet Arbutus nestles 'mid her leaves. And fair Hepatica with smiling grace, E'er April vanishes will show her face ; And if the windflower for her lost harp grieves, She'll smile again when Spring unlocks her gates. Sing on ! for life is quickening 'neath the sod. Flow on ! oh, currents from Earth's throbbing heart ! Still Nature bides her time ; and never yet Did she for any vexing hindrance fret, Or fail in patience to perform her part ; — F^om the first timid flower to goldenrod. spring. 187 SPRING. With a dancing step, and a voice of song ; With a flowering wreath her locks among ; Gayly tripping the fields along ; Cometh joyous Spring. With a mantle of green, and an eye of blue ; With a breath all fragrant with morning dew ; Bright as a raindrop the sun looks through ; Cometh fairy Spring. Anon with a smile, and again with a tear, Brushing away the dead leaves sere ; And strewing flowers o'er Winter's bier; Cometh gentle Spring. With hope in her heart, and joy in her eye ; Scattering blessings, she passeth by ; We watch her vanishing form, with a sigh For departing Spring. In Autumn Time, IN AUTUMN TIME, Ever falling are the leaves ; Ever ripening are the sheaves ; In the Autumn time. Ever sighing is the wind, For the summer left behind ; In the Autumn time. But the sunset skies are fair, With the blended colors rare Of the Autumn time. And the golden light shines through Leaves of every changing hue, In the Autumn time. There are sweet and restful days, In the soft and dreamy haze Of the Autumn time. Ill Aiitiirnii Time. 189 There are flowers that blossom late ; There are joys that ever wait, Till the Autumn time. Let the golden year go round ! Bloom and fruitage both are found In the Autumn time. So we tread the fallen leaves ; Glad to gather in the sheaves Of the Autumn time. igo Uplifting. UPLIFTING. My heart was lonely amid the gay. No soul brought a gift to mine. And I heard a voice to my unrest, say, *' Kneel thou at a purer shrine ! " A bird of Paradise floated by, And brushed me with its wing : I felt the touch, and I looked on high ; — But I saw no living thing. Yet sometimes a fragment of Heavenly song Would my restless heart subdue ; And on strange, sweet chords would vibrate long, — Till thought into music grew. Years passed, and life brought its many cares : Forgot was the Heavenly song. I knelt no more by the altar stairs, But jostled amid the throng, Till my brain grew numb with a weary pain ; And the stars of Heaven were dim. Then I sighed ; — " Oh ! to waken those chords again. And recall that grand sweet hymn ! " uplifting. 191 " In vain ; it was only a dream of youth ; The romance of Hfe is o'er ! " — Said one, who assumed the garb of Truth , — " Take what is : — and dream no more ! " But once, when I knelt at the Master's feet, With my heart-strings out of tune ; They thrilled to a strain of music, sweet As of leaves in the month of June. It deepened and swelled ; — and the notes grew clear ; — And the song took a loftier strain ; — 'Twas a Heart that spoke ; and I needs must hear ; — I had found the lost chords again. They were fastened above, by the hand of Love ; And an angel swept the lyre ! And one, that was winged like a snow-white dove, Leant, beckoning me up higher. The sky was alight ; and the stars were bright ; And the cloud had left the heaven ! — To Him who giveth " songs in the night," I offered praise at even. 192 A Dreamer. A DREAMER. He dreamed of Fame ; — and lo ! a temple fair, In mocking grandeur, rose before his eyes : And toiling up the steep, ascending stair, Toward its high pinnacle, in glad surprise He read his name ; — and thought an angel's hand Had written it; — when all, down, crumbling, fell. Beneath his feet was but a mound of sand. Washed by the restless tide's incoming swell. He dreamed of bliss ; and wove with golden thread A fabric fair as wrought by Love's own hand. And Joy the glittering mantle o'er him spread ; — Grief turned it sack-cloth with remorseless wand. And then he dreamed a life of Duty wrought, Should bring to him life's crowning joy of all ; A stern rebuke of self was all it taught ; — He had not dreamed how far his pride could fall. A Dreamer. 193 And so the man grew old ; — and still he dreamed. He dreamed that all that he had held most dear Of vanished joys ; — or hopes that mocking seemed ; — Or bliss that left but a regretful tear; All that his life had lost or missed below ; — All he had sought, and seeking, failed to find ; — All good he would, but had not power to do ; — All futile aspirations of the mind, — Should yield fruition in another sphere ; Or compensation ; giving gain for loss ; So crowning him that he could count them dear, — The waiting years that he had borne the cross. 194 Wherefore, WHEREFORE *' All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest ; All that's sweet was made, But to be lost when sweetest." — Moore. Oh ! Winter so long ! Oh ! Summer so brief ! Oh ! tiniest sparkle of joy , Oh ! the hopes that bud with the budding leaf ; For Time, like the leaf, to destroy. Will they bloom like the rose for one sweet day ? Sun-kissed in the dewy morn ; Ere evening with petals dropping away ; — Frail fragments on idle winds borne ? Or like golden-crowned lilies, standing fair Amid billows of waving green ? Where to-morrow, fresh fragrance fills the air, And the mower's scythe is seen ? Or will they like leaves, all the summer through. Rustle gayly, and dance, and sing In the hearts that hold them dear and true. Till the Autumn tempests bring. Wherefore? 195 To the leaf's frail trust, and the heart's brief joy, Doom alike of the outcast's pain ? — Crushed under the feet like a worthless toy; And sodden by pitiless rain ? Oh ! Winter so long ! Oh ! Summer so brief ! Oh ! tiniest sparkle of joy ! Will no hopes bud with the budding leaf, That Time shall fail to destroy ? There are evergreen boughs in the forest bare ; There are pines, that the Winter through, Keep all they have won with a jealous care ; And grandly their strength renew. But the sweet, frail flowers that bloom to die ; And the leaves that bud to fall ; — Doth He heed them less, that He knoweth why ? — He that loveth and watcheth all ? 196 The Mermaid's Song. THE MERMAID'S SONG. Under the sea ! under the sea ! Loved of thy love ; I am waiting for thee ! Pearls have I wreathed in my shining hair ; Bracelets of coral, clasp arms as fair As those that to-night thy neck en wreathe ; Maiden ! in vain is the prayer you breathe; For, under the sea ! under the sea ! Loved of thy love ! I am waiting for thee ! To-morrow the good ship sails o'er the main. It sails ! but will never return again. Clasp thy beloved in thy arras once more ! I shall kiss the lips she has kissed before. A month ago, a fair ship went down ; I found 'mong its treasures a bridal gown ; And under the sea ! under the sea ! Loved of thy love ! I am waiting for thee. My boudoir is built of the sea-shell fine ; The wealth of the ocean and land is mine. For many a ship its tribute brings, And lays at my feet its offerings. TJie Mermaid's Song. 197 No bride had ever so fair a dower ; No maid can lure thee with surer power ; While under the sea! under the sea! Loved of thy love ! I am waiting for thee ! Over the sea ! Over the sea ! The maid thou hast loved will watch for thee. Let her keep for her shroud, her bridal gear ! To a fairer bride her love draws near. To be true in death, thou hast vowed, — didst say ? The vow was false ! She may weep and pray ! But under the sea ! under the sea ! Oh loved of thy love ! thou shalt come to me. Trust. TRUST, Along the shore, The breakers roar ; The wind blows o'er the lea. Alas ! that they, For whom I pray ; To-night are on the sea. Upon the tide, The foam-caps ride ; The clouds are black above. Oh ! Father, keep Safe on the deep ; The dear ones whom I love ! Against the pane, Wild beats the rain ; I see the lightning's glare. O, Lord ! be near My loved ones dear ! To-night is all my prayer. Trust. 1 99 Mid thunder crash And Hghtning flash, Louder the breakers roar. Oh ! would that they, For whom I pray. To-night were on the shore ! On sea or land ; Safe in God's hand ! I leave them to His care. He, watch will keep, E'en while I sleep ; — They do not need my prayer. 200 Hoiv to Know. HOW TO KNOW. FOR MY LITTLE FRIENDS. If I were a little brook, I should not know what to say ; Never having read a book, Never doing aught but play. But the brooklet sings a song ; And the traveller waits to hear. Carelessly it glides along ; But it hath a song of cheer. If I were a flow'ret small, How should I know what to say ? Never having learned at all ; Only living for a day. But the little tiny flower. Still is to its mission true ; Though it bloom but for an hour, It may have a thought for you. Hozv to Knozv. 201 For the blessed Saviour taught, That the Father, who could care For the lily, toiling not ; Listens to His children's prayer. If I were a giant tree, What, I wonder, should I say. When the wind came down on me ; Bearing all my leaves away ? But the tree in silence stands ; Strong and patient, brave and true ; Taking from its Maker's hands All He sends, — as if it knew. All its crushed and withered leaves, Tenderly He puts away ; If the great tree for them grieves, Who can know, or who can say ? For its roots will still drink in Strength from food that He supplies. Till the sweet, rich juice begin Up the tree's huge trunk to rise. Then each branch and twig so bare. Filled with sap to overflow. Puts out new leaves, fresh and fair. And they seem to whisper low, 202 How to Know. " If God ever from you take What He gives, be strong and true ! It will be, that He may make Something better still for you." The Wide, Wide Wor/d. 203 THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. The world is wide ! and the ships go by ; And the winds blow o'er the sea : But little they reck, when waves dash high, Of the life of you or me. The world is wide ! yet many a barque Goes down 'neath the rushing waves. And many a form lies cold and stark, In the sea's unfathomed caves. The world is wide ! and its throngs press on ; Though some may fall by the way ; The ranks close up, and the soldier gone, Is only missed for a day. The world is wide ! and the beggar waits, All in vain at Dives' door. In a world so wide, shall the rich man's gates Stand open to the poor ? 204 The Wide, Wide World. The world is wide ! ah ! I fear, too wide For our narrow aim and ken. From our chosen paths, shall we turn aside, For the querulous wants of men ? Oh world so wide ! not a sparrow falls To the ground, without His eye. Not a burdened heart e'er vainly calls ; No lonely sufferer's sigh ; But is heard by Him who holds the seas In the hollow of his hand ; Yet noteth and guideth every breeze ; If it blow from sea or land. Oh human heart ! is the world too wide ? Are human needs too small 1 That thou from their claim, shouldst turn aside, When the dear Lord cares for all } Almost Home. 205 ALMOST HOME. The angels wait by the shadowed gate ; They wait, yes ! they wait for thee ! Dost see ? Dost see ? How they wait, they wait for thee ? By the shining gate, thy dear ones wait • They wait, yes ! they wait for thee ! Dost see ? Dost see ? That they wait, they wait for thee ? Lay thy work down ! Take and wear thy crown ! It waits ; lo ! it waits for thee ! Dost see ? Dost see ? That it waits, it waits for thee ? Fold restless hands, at thy Lord's command ! There is rest, sweet rest for thee ! Dost see ? Dost see ? There is Heaven's rest for thee. 2o6 Transition. TRANSITION, A SOLEMN Stillness is in the air. On the snow-crowned hills the light shines fair ; Like the light of Heaven on a peaceful brow. — On the brow of one who smiling, waits By the hither side of the closed pearl gates, Till the angels the portals open throw. A bird twitters loV in the leafless trees, There's a breath of Spring in the rising breeze, And warm are the rays of the rising sun. But hark ! on the startled air rings a knell ! 'Tis the slow, deep sound of the passing bell. For one whose mission on earth is done. From the Winter dead, the white robes fall. To the waiting Spring, sweet voices call, " Come now ; our chosen ; we crown thee Queen ! " But to one, Life-crowned, white robes are given ; And a light shines clear, from the opening Heaven, Till we almost see, the gates between. Cojttrasts. 207 CONTRASTS, AUTUMN RAIN. Sad and slow The mourners go. Drearily drips the rain ! Over the hill To the church-yard still, Winds a funeral train. II. Tolls no bell With mournful knell ! Steadily drips the rain ; In solemn state, By the church-yard gate, Waits the funeral train. III. Falls no tear Upon the bier ! Only the dripping rain, On the coffin lid, Where one face is hid, — That could not smile for pain. 2o8 Contrasts, IV. Into the ground, With a grating sound, And the drip, drip of the rain ; The coffin slides, And the cold earth hides One who has lived in vain. V. 'Neath the sod, Bury the clod ! Bury one sad heart's pain, That none may know, As the mourners go. Home in the dripping rain ! SUMMER SUNSHINE. I. The bells ring merrily ! The birds sing cheerily ! For 'tis her wedding morn. The sun shines brightly ! The breezes lightly Sway the tassels of the corn ! Co7itrasts. 209 II. . From rose to clover, The bees flit over, All through the meadow green. Where rides young Harry .'* He goes to marry Fair Elsie, the village queen. III. The bells ring merrily ! The sexton cheerily The church-door open throws ! The groom walks proudly ! The choir chants loudly ! — The bride waits like a rose. IV. The sunlight shimmers. In golden glimmers, Upon the flower-crowned head ! White-robed all purely ; — Eyes drooped demurely ; — Hands clasped ; — and the vows are said. V. Won ! for the wooing ! Done ! past undoing ! Twain, to be henceforth one ! Welcome the omen ! Blest among women ! — Bride on whom shines the sun. 2IO Co7itrasts. VI. Girt with its brightness ; Hearts full of lightness ; So they go forth in the morn. Past rose and clover ; Where bees flit over ; — Home by the tasselled corn. Wrecked. 211 WRECKED, I SIT me down in utter weariness Among the ruins of my castle fair. — My castle that I builded in the air ; And thought its beauty all my life should bless. No one had seen my castle. None could guess What hopes were centred in it. None do care ; Nor dream that as I walk my even way, I can have met with any loss to-day. O, ye who win life's guerdon ! pity those Who strive and miss it ! weave their dreams too late Beat helplessly against blank walls of fate That shut them in unto life's very close. And they, at last, in utter, sheer despair, Sink into apathy ; — and no more care. 212 Oblivion. OBLiyiON. Down to the winding river, Where the reeds and rushes shiver ; And the trees drop shadows all : She comes in rhe hush of the morning And never a bird gives warning ; — And never a voice doth call. A rift in the winding river ; — A sob, as the dark waves quiver One moment ; — and that is all. And the tide flows smoothly onward ; And the happy birds fly sunward ; — And only the shadows fall. A Dream. 213 A DREAM, I DREAMED last night, while on my couch reposing, A dream so real, I thought my dreams were o'er. And one, with fingers soft, my eyelids closing. Said ; " She will never see the sunlight more. "But bring no flowers for her; — she will not need them. — Why should they wither on her bosom cold ? She loved them in her life ; — but who will heed them. When o'er the sight is drawn Death's curtain fold ? " I heard and saw ; — a lonely, unseen presence, — Watching the chilling rites, with saddened eyes. O'er my own form ; whose subtle, living essence Was not yet drawn to unfamiliar skies. And if they loved me, would they grudge the fairest Of garden blooms to lay upon my bier.? Would they not bring the sweetest and the rarest ; And moisten each drooped petal with a tear.'' 214 ^ Dream. Then one from out some withered, festal garland, Dropped a few poor, pale blossoms at my side ; And said ; " She will find sweeter in that far-land, Where all perennial blooms and loves abide." True; — but the earthly blossoms are the token Of loving thought from friends I leave below. — If no regretful word for me were spoken ; Though I were dead ; — I think that I should know. Oh friends ! dear friends ! when o'er the breathless sleeping. You lay with reverent hands, Earth's fragile flowers ; Then turn away, and say with bitter weeping ; " They mind them not, safe in celestial bovvers." Mayhap, through closed lids, spirit eyes are seeing ; And deafened ears thrill to Love's faintest breath ; — For all that higher, purer realm of being, Is only just beyond the gates of Death. Then grieve them not, by weak and brief regretting ! Fresh from perennial founts their love is drawn ; Love, — Heavenly Love, — that never knows forgetting ; But through eternal ages still loves on. Evening in the Country. 215 EVENING IN THE COUNTRY. The night dews are falling, falling ; And the sun is sinking low ; The birds to their mates are calling, And the milch-kine homeward go. The oxen come from the meadow. With the heavily loaded wain. And the men rest in the shadow Of the stacks of ripened grain. The horse at the bars is neighing For his nightly meal of corn. In the yard, the children are playing; While the beggar waits forlorn, Peering through the outer gateway. At the noisy group within ; But the farmer sees him straightway, And calls the wanderer in. 2i6 Evcjiiiig in the Coviitry. For the evening meal, preparing, The wife goes her busy round. The stranger its bounty sharing, Hath a kindly welcome found. From the door, the farmer is keeping Lookout for the weather's sign ; His thought on the morrow's reaping; Will the day be foul or fine ? The young moon, — a silver crescent, Hangs low in the amber sky. And the light clouds, evanescent, Go mistily floating by. On the gate, a young man is leaning, Looking into a maiden's eyes. The shadows her blushes screening ; - While softly the south-wind sighs. The moon dips lower and lower! The stars like jewels shine ! The clock in the old church tower. Strikes slowly the hour of nine. The lover goes home in the star-light And the maiden seeks her rest ; While Venus reaches her far-light To them, from this darkening west. Evening in tJie Coiuitry. 217 The fireflies glint in the meadow ; In the near-woods, the owlets call; The night steals on with its shadow ; — And darkness is over alL 2i8 Bird Songs. BIRD SONGS. Dropping down ! Dropping down ! So the melody falls. Through the leaves of the elms that skirt the town Like a rain of pearls, the notes come down, In a myriad wild-bird calls. To and fro ! To and fro ! Gayly the songsters fly ! From tree to tree, — above, — below, Flashing the sunlight their bright wings go ; Then melt in the blue of the sky. Far and near ! Far and near ! From meadow to wooded hill. Rises and falls the anthem clear ; — Grand " Te Deum " and home-song dear, — Solo in quaver and trill. All around ! All around ! Symphonies everywhere ! The air is pulsing and throbbing with sound ! The sweet May-blossoms fall to the ground. And lie entranced there ! Bird Songs. 219 Dropping down ! Dropping down ! From the sky the music falls ! Regal June with her emerald crown ; — Star-eyed Hope, whose melodies drown Discords of pain, — it calls. 220 Autum7ial Days. AUTUMNAL DAYS. The sere and yellow leaf! Oh youth ! thou wert too brief ! Oh age ! thou art too nigh ! Full soon the leaf must fall ; Ah ! if this life were all, How sad a thing to die ! The golden moments lost ; — Too late we count their cost ; We mind not how they speed ! But age creeps on apace ; Another wins the race ; — We thought, of haste, no need. Oh velvet-footed hours ! Strew not your path with flowers, So noiseless, and so sweet ! But rather let your tread Beat reveilles instead ; With heavy marching feet ! Autumnal Days. 221 For, when beneath the ground \ We hear not any sound ; The grass so noiseless grows. The buds are all so still, We never know the thrill, That wakes to life the rose. Oh, if this life were all, How, like a knell, would fall The measured strokes of Time ! But seeing skies afar. The dropping moments are A vesper-bell's sweet chime. 222 While the Day Lasts. WHILE THE DAY LASTS. How fares the soul when the sun goes down And the long, long day has been ? God help the soul when the heavens frown, And nowhere the stars are seen ! The sun comes up, and the sun goes down, And the long day lies between. The heavens smile, and the heavens frown ; - But somewhere the stars are seen. The tide goes out, and the tide comes in ; The rocks are above or below. But the brave ship will the harbor win Whether tides shall come or go. The birds fly south, and the birds fly north, And Winter gives place to Spring. The snows may drift, or the warm rains fall ; But somewhere the birds will sing. While the Day Lasts. 223 The wind blows east, and the wind blows west, And the weather is foul or fair : But the sower sows, and he reapeth best, Who for wind nor cloud doth care. The sun will rise, and the sun go down ; — There's always a day between. Though the heavens smile, or the heavens frown, Work on ! till the stars are seen ! 224 TJie Difference. THE DIFFERENCE. There's a lonely path in a pleasant wood ; Once a maid walked gayly through it. And naught she cared for the solitude, Although she was fair, — and knew it. She knew no more of the world of wrong Than the singing birds above her. The squirrels chattered the boughs among; The brook sang low, " I love her." "Oh ! where is the wood, and where is the maid ? I would that I might find her ! " She heard young Love, and she shrank afraid, Lest he in his fetters bind her. The maiden walks again in the wood ; And the birds still sing above her; — But now she weeps at the solitude ; — And sighs for a faithless lover. \> Pocahontas. 225 POCAHONTAS. Pocahontas ! Indian princess ! Storied name that ringeth down 'Mid the paeans of the centuries, From an old Virginia town. Woman's love and woman's courage, — Heroine of a savage race ! — Shone through eyes both true and tender Lent the wreathing arms their grace * Brave to die for one unworthy ! Strong to live with bleeding heart ! All thy race's proud endurance, Hiding well the cruel smart. Pocahontas ! Friend of white men ! Looking down from heights of bliss, — If the blest in Heaven could suffer, What thy earthly pain to this ? — 226 Pocahontas. This, thy race's extirpation ; Driven by the white man's greed : — Driven by the march of progress : — " Might makes right," the nation's creed. Pocahontas ! Indian princess ! Soon thy race will be no more. Soon the white men's homes will cover All the land from shore to shore. But thy name in song and story, Still will ring the centuries down. — Bravest of heroic women, — From an old Virginia town. My City. 22*j MY CITY. There's a city of which I often dream ; A river beside it flows. The name of the city, the name of the stream, I know not, and no man knows. I roam through its streets in the silent night ; There's something I seek to find. I wearily wake by the morning light ; Its picture is in my mind. As though in a chart it before me lies ; Its length and its breadth I see. Its spires and turrets so clearly rise, I know that the city must be. In the near background of the picture fair. Is a hill that I sometimes climb ; And an ancient castle standeth there. — It seems to have stood through Time. 228 My City, And around the castle I often roam ; But never its portals pass. Its doors ne'er open, and no guests come ; No footsteps are on the grass. Then adown the path by the river side, Again to the city I go. No boat is afloat on the nameless tide ; No vessel is moored below. And yet it seemeth a pleasant stream ; So shaded and still and fair. I see it always as in my dream, With the tall trees mirrored there. In the streets of the city I'm not unknown ; There are faces I often meet : I should see those faces, and those alone, If I met them in any street. Would you know where lieth this city fair? 'Tis a marvel unto me. But whether of earth, or whether of air, A dream or a fantasy, I still will call it my city, — and deem The vision so true to be, I shall walk the path by the nameless stream, And find what there waits for me : My City. 229 I shall meet those faces so strong and true • And above my life's ideal, Will arise a palace that's fair and new, — In the kingdom of the Real. 230 A Blind Pilgrmt. A BLIND PILGRIM. I SEE not the path my feet shall tread In the years that lie before me ; I take my staff with a nameless dread ; For the cloud that hangeth o'er me. I leave the light of my childhood's home, That may never again be mine ; — A stranger hence o'er the world to roam, In the shadow of day's decline. The flower that blossomed my way beside, I see not for leaves that fall. The bird that sang in the sweet spring-tide, No more to its mate doth call. I know not what blessing His hand may hold ; What answer to my prayer ; If " not my will," shall the years unfold ; Some gift from God is there. A Blind Pilgrim, 23 It may be a joy ; it may be a pain ; It may be a hope fulfilled ; It may be a wish that I've wished in vain, Or a cup that my hand hath spilled. The flowers no longer may bathe my feet ; Or the light of the morning shine : But the stars of evening are cool and sweet ; And my heart shall not repine. 232 The Old and the New. THE OLD AND THE NEW, The old year is dying, dying ; And the sad, sad winds are sighing ; — Sighing and moaning in the leafless trees. He lieth cold, — The year so old ; And I hear a weird voice crying ; " Cover him low, With the pure, white snow ; And chant his requiem, O wailing breeze !" Farewell to thee, old year ! Farewell forever ! The dead return, ah ! never ! And yet, old year, we have loved thee well. Thou hast brought us joy ; Thou hast brought us cheer ; Thou hast brought us griefs that we may not tell. Farewell to thee, old year ! Farewell forever ! The dead return, ah ! never ! The Old and the New. 233 The new year cometh ; cometh ; I hear his footsteps on the snow. I see his crimson cheeks aglow, In the early morn, when the day is born And the sky is aflame with the wonderful light That heralds the morning and ushers the night. " Oh, gay New Year ! Oh, glad New Year ! What dost thou bring of woe or chSer ? " " Ask me not ! my secrets are mine ; Some thirst for the water ; some drink of the wine." " Oh, gay New Year ! Oh, glad New Year ! What shall we hope for ? what shall we fear ? " " Hope for the good that thine own hand doeth ! Fear but the evil thy heart pursueth ! To the hand that giveth, the gift returns. But thy evil deed, thy own palm burns. No more ! — for the crimson lights of dawn Show me the path of the year that's gone ; And backward look, if thou wouldst know How each year mingles its joy and woe." January i, 1884.