-^...^^^^.^.e^ y^, z;^, /3^z.^^-^^>^^' g^-:?t-^ , i POEMS MRS. FRANCES Bf M9 BROTHERSON I'UlilJSHEI) HY HkR DaIGHTERS 1 880 r ^ t)^V Entered according to an Act of Congress in the year 1880, by Mrs. L. B. Tyng and Mrs. M. B. Reynolds in the ofRce of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. THE BELOVED WHETHER ON EARTH OR IN HEAVEN. Fn.LED WITH A TONE — Oh, NOT FOR DEATHLESS KaME, But a SWEET, HAUNTING MURMUR OF MY NAME, Where it would rest." PREFACE. As it had long been the purpose of our dear mother to collect these poems in a volume for the sake of those who loved her, and as since her death many requests have come to us that this should still be done, we offer this volume to her friends and to the public. We have made no attempt to arrange the poems in order of writing, or to classify them. We have omitted some of a local and periodical interest, because of their length, but it has been our intention to publish all of her shortest poems, and we have tried faithfully to collect them all. It is a matter of real sorrow to us that the work could not be done by her own loving hands and under her careful supervision, but as this could not be, we have tried, as well as was in our power, to Mother's Grave, . 3 6 9 10 13 16 18 21 24 26 31 34 37 39 42 44 47 50 53 55 58 60 CONTENTS. The Vacant Cradle, Lines to Nellie M. R, Household Blossoms, Judea, The Twin Brothers, A Heart's Thanksgiving, To a Bereaved One, Memories of One Beloved, The Loved and Lost, . A Welcome, Class Song, The Convict's Mother, A Valentine, Lines — to Mrs. Amanda Simerel A Memorj', Gone Before, . . . I Cannot Think Thee Dead, The Dying Year, To the New Year, Lines, .... The Little Grave, The Italian Boy, The Lamb of the Fold, The Olden Strain, The Death of Moses, Lines— St. Luke's Hospital, New The Little AVhite Coffin, The Fading Year, The Infidel's Daughter, Our Darling, Absent, Forgiveness, Love's Wealth, Grimes. York PAGE. 63 66 68 72 75 79 82 85 88 91 93 95 99 101 104 105 109 112 115 117 119 121 124 129 ]32 136 140 144 ■ 149 153 ■155 157 160 CONTENTS. Reply to the "Tliree Gifts," My Ohio Home, Henry Clay, The Evening Before Marriage, Lines — to Mrs. E. D. Harilin, Ruth to Naomi, Tlie 8hunamite's Rejjly, Lines — Upon the Departure of Friends for Sul)mission, Reunion of ITtli Illinois Volunteers, Shall the Union be Severed' Pray, .... Hymn for Easter, The Prayer of the Soldier's Wife, Hail to the Heroes, Better than our Fears, Easter Hymn, Memorial Day, May 30, 1871, Monday ]\Iorning, A Meed of Praise, To Miss Katie E. McKenzie, Hast Thou Forgotten? The Baptism, What Hath the Future? The Old and New Year, Let Me Kiss Him for His Mother, Dying, Our Darling's Birthday, The Prayer of King Solomon, A Response to the Call for 600,000 Men, Our Father's Orave, Fallen on the Field of Battle, Not Dead, .... Palestine, CONTENTS. PAGE. March 4th, 1865, . . . . . . . . . 262 The Soldiers' Monument, 264 The Widow's Son, 266 Missing, . . . . 271 Charles Dickens, 274 The Triumph of Love, 278 My Father's Birthday, 281 The Eed Ribbon, .... 284 One Year in Heaven, 286 All Things Praise Him, 290 Hope, 293 The Poor Ye Have Always With You , 297 The Reward of Faith, 300 Twenty-Third Psalm, . 304 To Mary Gibson Griswold, 306 She Hath Passed Away, 308 Nevermore, . 311 The Inner World, 313 Our Soldiers, .... 316 Memorial Day, May 30th, 1879, . 319 On the Hillside, .... 325 An Appeal for the Letter Carriers, 328 Christmas Carol, .... 330 Lines — to Hon. John McReynolds, 333 In the Hospital, .... 335 The Marriage Bell, 338 Our Lord and Saviour, 341 Norman and Philip Bourland, 345 Death at Sea, .... 348 Springdale Cemetery, . 353 Letters of the Dead, 355 The Centennial Year, 858 Spring Violets, .... 368 CONTENTS. Lines — to May Riggs Tyng, Lines — to Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Reynolds, A Christmas Rejoicing, PAGE. 371 375 380 In Memoriam- Philip M. Brotlicrson, 387 Annis P. Baldwin, . 390 Mrs. H. G. Weston, 392 Mrs. H. P. Bennett, 395 The Household Darling, 399 Mrs. Wm. Bennett, 401 Rudolphus Rouse Winchell, 405 Mrs. N. B. Hotchkiss, 407 Mrs. Elizabeth Wilson, 411 Mrs. A. F. Curtenius, 414 Clara Estella Coppel, 417 3&y P. Hotchkiss, 419 Mrs. Emily D. Aiken, 423 Mrs. Martha R. Hotchkiss, 424 Charlie C. Merriman, 428 Mary Ruth Chase, 431 Mrs. E. M. Hancock, 434 Rev. Dudley A. Tyng, 437 Mrs. Richard Gregg, 441 Frank Brotherson Tyng, 447 Frank Brotherson Tyng, 450 Compensation, 453 Frank Brotherson Tyng, 456 Hon. H. H. Leavitt, 458 Abraham Lincoln, . 461 Little Caro, 465 Annie Grisvvold Tyng, 470 CONTENTS. PAGE. Col. Lucien H. Kerr, 474 Little Mattie, .... 478 The Vacant Home, 482 Delle Mason Dowdall, 487 Grace Fletcher Dow, 490 Jessie A. Belcher, 493 Lines — to Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap, 498 Mrs. George W. Morgan, 501 The Household Darling, 505 A Flower, .... 508 Fred W. Sloan, 510 Little May Tyng, . 514 POEMS THE HYMN OF THE PILGRIMS. It rose amid the forest aisles, 'T was borne upon the breeze, That high, free anthem ! blending deep With nature's harmonies. It circled round the great white throne, A tribute to the Power, Whose hand had steered their gallant bark In danger's darkest hour. It rose amid the forest aisles, It floated to the sky, The full heart's melody — whose tones Were never born, to die. And tears bedewed full many a cheek, While joy lit up the eye. As thus, with lips of praise, they might A tyrant power defy. THE HYMN OF THE PILGRIMS. Soul spake to soul — one mystic band, In gentle fetters bound ; As thus they worshipped fearlessly And made it holy ground. And bending low the reverent knee, Arose the tones of prayer, Thanks for a sleepless watch and ward, A Father's kindly care. The memories of their father-land, The charms of native shore, Forsaken hearth-stones, wonted paths That know their steps no more — Were naught to the one glorious thought Within each noble soul, That they were free to worship God, Safe from man's stern control. Free ! free ! how echoed forth those words Amid the leafy shade. Where many a whispering forest tree Melodious murmurs made. They echoed by the singing stream, Old ocean caught the sound, And chanted forth from deepest caves, Its harmonies profound. rilE IIYMX OF THE I'llJlRTMS. The Pilgrim's hymn ! It soundeth still On shore and surging sea ; The world doth sing its blessedness, A mighty minstrelsy ! On desert sands, in ice bound climes, Is heard its echoed tone, In the calm joyful ness and peace The faithful heart hath known. When failing footste]).s wander down Where death's dark waters glide, It sounds above the rolling wave, Above the stormy tide. It cheers the spirit through the vale. When earthly scenes grow dim, And "midst the shadows gathering there Is heard the Pilgrim's Hvmn. Undying, still its echoes float Up to the pearly gate, Where ransomed souls pass gently in. And crowns no longer wait. Amid the glittering, countless ranks, Evangels — cherubim — The music of the white-robed throng Is still the Pilgrim's Hvmn. THE SNOW. Softly, and pure as an angel's wing, Thou floatest to earth, oh ! beautiful thing; Seeming to come from the azure bowers With jewelled robes for this world of ours ; On the mountain high, in the valley low, Is hailed thy coming, white sheeny snow — A boon to gladden the hearts of all, A wreath for the winter's festival. The voice of childhood rings gaily out, The joyous call, and the happy shout; Light kindleth up in unshadowed eyes, Joy waketh mirthful and fond replies ; The boyish feet — how they bound away! Roaming in gladness the livelong day. As though never a sorrow could find a part In the new found joy of each happy heart. THE SNOW. And I sit and think, as the snow-flakes fall, Of one who sleeps 'neath their pure white pall, A graceful form — from our vision hid — A fair face — under the coffin lid ; I hear no tones like his pleasant voice. No words like his make my heart rejoice, And a requiem strain floats around life's w^ay, For the child whose presence has passed away. In the vanished year, when the white snow fell, He shouted with gladness his joy to tell, That voice of sweetness, so clear and fair. We heard its music, now here, now there; And over the ice-bound and snow-clad street, Rang the tireless tread of those little feet. Quiet their echoes — they faded away From their wonted pathway one winter's day. I sit and think how the years will go. Blest by the fall of the beautiful snow — That greetings shall echo from young, red lips, While his shall be sealed amid Death's eclipse; I shall hear the mirth of each boyish band, And turn to think of his folded hand, And the sunshine streaming from yonder sky Shall waken thoughts of his slumbering eye. THE SNOW. Oh! gentle snow — with thy white wing come, Decking with beauty his lowly home, Fold thy pure arm o'er his pulseless breast, Gem with thy jewels his quiet rest ; Though his pure spirit hath passed away To the radiant light of unshadowed day, Remembering the child that hath loved thee so. Crown his pale slumbers, oh, beautiful snow ! HYMN. Suiif;- lit the Consecration of Bellefontaine Cemetery, St. Louis, Missouri. Our Father ! with a holy trust And faith, we eomc before thee now ; Look down upon this hallowed dust, As low before thy Throne we bow. Wilt thou not grant that we may deem The grave an entrance to the sky ; A prelude to a long bright dream, And glories hid from mortal eye? A passage to that radiant shore, Where golden harps give back such notes As seraphs only number o'er. And bliss in sweetest measure floats ? And as we lay each cherished one To rest, amid this shade and bloom, Father! be life for them begun, — A deathless life beyond the tomb. THE BEAUTIFUL. "Whose dwelling is the light of setting sun,— and the deep ocean,— and the living air,— and the blue skj',— and the mind of man." "Let there be light" — through the vast realm of Heaven, That mighty tone thrilled on the angel band ; While a new life seemed to each seraph given, An added radiance filled that Eden land. As our fair world awoke in pristine glory, Amid the rosy rays that gleamed around, Telling, in speaking silence, the glad story Of the rich splendor that Creation crowned. Floating so gently from the cloudless azure, An angel presence came on glittering wing. To be a dweller 'mid earth's new-found brightness, And to its bowers a blessedness to bring. It left its impress on each starry trembler. That sheds its golden glory from on high. And bade them ever keep untiring vigils, With the calm watching of an angel's eye. THE BEAUTIFUL. 11 It hath a voice throughout the realm of Nature, We find its footprints through the forest aisles, Where the unfolding of its shining pinion Awakes a wreath of sunshine and of smiles. O'er the wide world we mark its fairy wandering, By the blue sea it keeps a wonted place, No towering mountain, not a vale so lowly, But of the angel presence bears a trace. Beside the violet's home it loves to linger, AVithin the lily's bell and rose's blush, Waking, like echoes from a fairy finger. The fountain's flow and rippling water's gush. And when I gaze upon each spray and leaflet. Waving so gently on the perfumed air, I look so fondly for the passing presence, For well I know the angel hath been there. It bringeth to the heart full many a blessing. We keep its impress on beloved tones, And every cherished smile it wreaths with fondness. Love's lighted glance its sacred influence owns. 12 THE BEAUTIFUL. It hath a joy for sorrow's darkest moment, And gentle soothings for grief's sombre hour, Unto the hopeless heart it comes with visions, — That brighter life with strange and holy power. It crowneth the beloved with a glory More regal far than that of lip and brow, The soul's ex]3ression, and the spirit gleaming, Awake our worship, and we fondly bow. A shining link to draw the soul to Heaven, A foretaste of that world of purest bliss, That bids us wonder what must be its glory. When such revealings come to us in this. Thrice happy they! — around whose daily pathway The Beautiful doth come on angel wing. And sweeping o'er the spirit's hidden treasure. Calls from its depths a gentle echoing, — Echoes which sound through life, and sweetly soothe Its strange unrest with murmurs of delight, Until they blend with the grand minstrelsy. Whose strains, immortal, fill the world of light. THE SUNSET STB A IN. "When the sun gilds with its last mys the everlasfing snow on the high cliffs 01' the Alps, the shepherd who has built his litilo chalet highest on the dizzy- crags blows a shrill blast, and repeats through his horn ' Praised be ihc Lord.' The hunters who dwell around utter it again, and it is caught up and prolonged by the valleys below, while all who hear it i)ause in awe."— Travels in Europe. When winter rears its palace on the heights Where Alpine snows in proud defiance rest, In that calm hour when day doth seek repose, And sunset's glow is lingering in the west, — " Praised be the Lord " resoundeth from those cliffs, While hill, and vale, and rock, give back the notes That in one glorious voice ascend on high. And up to Heaven as sweetest incense floats. When fairy Spring hath come with pleasant smile. Treading with gentle feet each wintry height ; When icy bands relent and melt away Beneath the glances of her eye of light; Then high and clear, that strain of glorious praise Swells out — and from the grateful heart is heard "Praised be the Lord" — while with upspringing life, All nature echoes back each blessed word. 14 THE SUNSET STRAIN. When summer strews its beauty o'er those hills, Basking in sunshine 'neath the radiant skies, When clinging vines with ripened fruit are filled, Crowning their home with green as they arise ; Amid the undimmed beauty that doth clothe The hill and vale, — still at day's close is heard From the high chalet on the towering cliffs, That worship tone, whose echoes Praise the Lord. At that calm hour the shepherd hears the sound, — Enfolded are his lambs in pastures fair — His heart re-echoes every welcome word, And now his murmured praise is on the air. The weary hunter in his homeward walk, Flings down the chamois when that strain is heard, And with his knee upon the fragrant turf. Joins in the jubilant, "Praised be the Lord." Oh, Alpine horn — with praise perpetual thou, I would my heart might echo back thy notes, Ascending to the Great White Throne on high. To mingle with the praise that round it floats. I would that as each day doth pass away. And sunset flings its banner o'er the sky, My voice might in a blessed tribute rise. To Him, who reigns the Lord of all, on high. THE SUNSET STRAIN. 16 When Winter's icy footsteps draweth near, Shrouding the beauty of the Autumn's hours; When coraeth Spring, with fairy hues of green ; When Cometh Summer, with its golden hours ; When glows the rose, with angel-painted hues ; When leafy spray is bent by bee and bird ; When Autumn comes with treasures rich and rare. Be this my heart hymn — thus my voice be heard. In joy and gladness — in dark sorrow's hour, — Amid the sunshine and the deepest shade, — In the fair hour of bright prosperity — And when a chastening hand is on me laid — When faint and feeble — when death cometh near, — When loving voices are no longer heard — Through the dark valley — at the golden gate — My spirit's song shall be "Praised be the Lord." THE TWO CITIES. Not far apart they lie — these cities twain, — O'er each the cheerful sunshine brightly streams, And beauty, like a spirit, haunts their paths, Such as hath come to me in pleasant dreams. Protectingly the azure bends o'er one, The other sleeps beneath the same blue sky. And there are homes in each, where whispering leaves Respond to gentle zephyrs wandering by. One echoes back the sound of daily toil, The step of commerce wanders through its bound. And joyous mirth, and friendship's kindly tone Throughout its pathways pleasantly resound. The other is all quiet and repose. No clashing sound floats on its summer air, No bounding footsteps, nor the busy hand, Nor calculating spirit, dwelleth there. THE TWO CITIES. 17 In one I find the smiles my heart doth love, And hear the tones that thrill my spirits chords, And kindly hands there greet me, with a warmth That unto life its rarest bliss aiFords. Within the other I have vainly yearned For hut one smile, one welcome fond and true ; I found them not — for every voice was hushed. Each silent lip had breathed love's last adieu. In one my days speed tranquilly away, Crowned with rich mercies from my Father's hand ; Sunshine bedecks my pathway, and my brow By many a favoring breeze from Heaven is fanned. Some coming time, perchance not far away. Amid the other I shall find calm rest, And go, with silent heart and slumbering eye, A quiet sleeper — to the earth's green breast. Beyond the homes I would a city find. Not built with hands — where many mansions fair Reflect their radiance in Life's crystal stream, And stand, eternal as their Builder, there. LOVE'S LAST GOOD-NIGHT. Inscribed to the memory of an only and beloved son. Good night, my darling ! On thy brow Fond, loving kisses I have pressed, As when, in childhood's happy time, I watched above thy rosy rest. My hand hath smoothed the shining curls That rest around thy graceful head. So much like life — my stricken soul Owns not the truth that thou art dead. Good night, my darling ! My fond lips Have rested on each folded lid, — Forever from my longing sight Thine eyes' expressive light is hid. I cannot see the old glad smile That ever warmly welcomed me, — How shall I live without its light. Save on the shrine of memory. LOVE'S LAST GOOD NIGHT. 19 Good night, my darling! Oh, how chill The pressure of thy cold, cold lips — Their wonted hue and warmth all gone, So pallid in life's sad eclipse. Countless the kisses they have left Upon my lips, and cheek, and brow ; Countless the loving, tender words, They breathed for me — no silent now. Good night, my darling! In my own I hold thy hand, all still and pale, That hand, whose kindness, warmth, and strength, Was with Death's dart of no avail. It seems to me but yesterday When first I knew its infant clasp; Oh! shall I never know on earth, Again its earnest, kindred grasp? Fain would I linger ever here Beside thy quiet coffin bed. Where thou, in young and manly grace, Wearest no look as of the dead. The peaceful smile — the placid light Gleaming from out thy features fair, Speak to me of thy spirit's bliss, That left its parting impress there. 20 LOVE'S LAST GOOD NIGHT. Good night, my love ! A last good night- Thy cares and conflicts are all o'er, A Heavenly Father's guiding hand Hath led thee to a calm bright shore, Where thy young feet shall walk in joy, Amid its never-fading light, And thy dear lips may never know The anguish of love's last good night. And when for me some loying one Shall fold still hands above my breast, And lay me gently down to sleep My pleasant and unbroken rest, How gladly will I clasp thy hand And hail thee, on that angel shore, Where Life's glad morning shall be ours. And Death's sad night comes nevermore. LINES. Gently the Sabbath flung o'er the earth Its robe of cahn repose, And gave the heart its quietude, Its beauty to disclose. The peace of God — exceeding all, Seemed stilly hovering 'round. And dove-like o'er the spirit dwelt, Far in its depths profound. My willing steps sought gladly then The temple of the Lord, My soul was seeking its repast, The bounties of His word. The never-failing, deathless fount Of that unchanging love, Which fr9m the depths of earthly woe, Its mighty strength did prove. 22 LINES. Sweetly the mellowed strain arose Of music's wondrous power, Like grateful incense to the Throne Where angel forms adore ; Oh, then mine eyes grew dim with tears, For thoughts came stealing by, Of thee, my Mother — whose fair home Was far beyond the sky. I thought of thee — who listened oft To that familiar strain ; I thought of thee — who never more, Might hear those tones again ; And sadly turned my tearful gaze Upon thy vacant seat. As though thy form, now lost to sight. My longing eyes would greet. Grief sadly swept my spirit's chords. And memory's fount was stirred, I thought upon thy -gentle smile, Each well remembered word, — The kindly greetings I had known From lips now pale and cold, Came thronging o'er my §addened heart. As fondly as of old. LINES. 23 Soft o'er my soul a " still small voice," As angel's whisper low, Came on the wing of trusting faith, With plumage white as snow. And bade me know that thy high home Was free from earthly ill, And to the billowy waves of grief Spoke gently — " Peace, be still." It told me of the radiant bliss Of yonder white-robed throng, — It whispered of the glorious strain That made thy angel song, — It told of the dark valley passed, Of the high triumph tone That led thy feet o'er golden streets, To joys untold, unknown. Though gone from temples made with hands, Thou liv'st in mansions fair: Unto thy home our hearts go up, And fair would linger there. Oh ! may we, when life's hours are done. Like thee, in yon bright Heaven, Stand in its clear, unshadowed light, Unsinning and forgiven. WISHES. I wish I were a star — a quiet star, Throned gloriously in yonder azure sky, Shedding a flow of silvery light afar. Like the pure radiance of a seraph's eye. From that high home, beloved one, on thee Forever should my raptured vision rest, — And like a fairy dream each hour would be, That found me thus with thy deep preseace blest. I would I were a zephyr — balmy, light. Laden with breathings of the early spring, Fd bathe thy lips and cheeks with a delight Calm as the sweeping of an angel's wing; Amid the clusters of thy shining hair I'd linger, straying o'er that glorious brow, Whose dignity would grace a king to wear, When brave and loyal hearts before him bow. WISHES. 25 I would I were a spirit bright and fair, To guard thee from life's ills with love's own might, Near thee for aye, at morn, or noonday's glare. And 'mid the hush of lone, mysterious night. Then ever at the holy twilight hour. My tireless wing should overshadow thee, And thou would'st bless the soothing unseen power That moved thy soul to sweetest harmony. It may not be — yet if in yon bright world My soul shall put a robe of glory on, When love's broad banner o'er me is unfurled, And golden harps proclaim my victory won, I shall be ever near thee — thou wilt feel Soft, sweet, low whispers 'round thy spirit come. And unheard voices shall to thee reveal. The radiant beauty of my far-off home. THOUGHT. ' Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind. Oh ! blessed gift, unchained and free, No mortal hand can fetter thee ; Thou spurnest a tyrant's might and power, Though gloom and darkness 'round thee lower, And from the depths of dark despair, Soarest like a spirit through the air. The frowning dungeon chills the form That once with life and love was warm — Hides from the sight the well beloved, Who in dark hours their faith have proved But cannot hold thee ! O'er the world Thy free broad pinions are unfurled, Stealing through. strongest prison bars, Unbounded by the shining stars. THOUGHT. 27 "With the beloved day by day, Hovering around their every way, Numbering each fond and gentle word That in love's accents has been heard ; Counting as treasures rich and rare Remembered smile and feature fair ; Retracing every look and tone. Awoke responsive to our own. O'er the deep ocean, dark and broad. Thy fairy feet full oft have trod — Scaled the proud mountain, on whose crest Perpetual snows defiant rest — Lingering beneath the sunny skies Which o'er Italia's flowers arise, Where Genius rears its sacred shrine. Whose altars glow with sparks divine. O'er desert plains, o'er Greenland's snow. Unwearied do thy footsteps go ; The mountain strain, the voice of song. Their echoes 'round thy way prolong. O'er the bright heather — o'er the clime. Where hills and streams tell truths sublime, Thy spirit roves unchecked and free : No power of earth may fetter thee. 28 THOUGHT. Listening to many a clash and clarig That o'er the battlefield has rang, Gazing on many an upturned eye, That for its country loves to die ; Hearing through carnage and through flame, From pallid lips some cherished name, — Some faintly murmured household word, Which the last pulse of life hath stirred. Down to the quiet, lonely tomb. Thought goes, unheeding death and gloom, To linger 'round the cherished form, The heart that once with love was warm ; Beneath the silent valley's clod. Where foot of man hath never trod, — Where not one blessed word can come To break the stillness of that home. Through the long vista of the past. Thought ! mighty Thought ! hath fleeted fast, To listen to the shepherd's strain. That echoed on Judea's plain, — Back to the Jordan's crystal sheen. To olive trees of rarest green, — Back to Gethsemane's dark hour, And clouds that dark o'er Calvary lower. THOUGHT. 29 Gazing on our ascended Lord, Borne cloud-like to his rich reward : Passing with Him the pearly gate, Where seraphim and cherubs wait To hail Him, King and Ijord of" all, In deathless strains, that ever fall In one exultant, glorious tone, Around our Father's radiant throne. Where he of mighty faith was blest — Where feet the fiery furnace pressed — Unto the memorable hour When God rev^ealed His living power, And through the long and fearful night, Blent lamb-like heart with lion might, Guarding His own with loving eye; That could man's wickedness defy. Where on thy bosom, sheltering Nile, The angels wooed an infant smile, And guardian wings were spread around A bark that blessed haven found. Where roaring waters frowned so dark, While safely sped the saving ark; Where sank to rest a wailing world, Clasping the dart defiant hurled. 30 THOUGHT. To Eden's garden — strangely fair — Hearing the voices whispering there, Watching the stealthy foe draw near To breathe deceit in woman's ear ; Hearing, as they with knowledge trod. The voice of an oiFended God, Who closed the gates of Paradise Forever on their longing eyes. Back to the hour when this fair earth, 'Neath hand divine, attained its birth, When hill and plain and shrub and tree, Awoke to nature's harmony ; When shining stars stole gently out, And joined the glad and glorious shout. As the Creator's voice of might Spake, thunder-toned : " Let there be light ! " High Heaven to mighty Thought doth say : Here shall thy wandering spirit stay ; Thy proud feet may no farther go, Thy soul no deeper mystery know. Until that hour when there doth stand Upon the sea, and on the land, An angel form, who, gone before, Shall tell that Time shall be no more. ANNIE TYNG. One pleasant day in Autumn time, When nature sang her sweetest chime, Through golden gates that gleam afar, And as a bright and gliding star, An angel wandered gently down, Whose stainless brow wore love's own crown, It came to us, and joy did bring — We call that angel — Annie Tyng. Sweet purity and native grace Were stamped upon the cherub face ; And as we lengthened our fond gaze, How quickly sped the happy days. For never weary were our eyes With that sweet flo\yer from Paradise, That fragrancy doth brightly fling Along life's path — sweet Annie Tyng. 32 ANNIE TYNG. With lips of tempting coral glow, Whose infant tones like music flow; With placid brow, and loving eye Lit up with childish witchery ; With soft brown hair, whose sunny gleam Of jeweled radiance doth seem ; With these, and many a pleasant thing, Thou earnest unto us — Annie Tyng. Oh, that thy unsealed hours may be From every cloud and shadow free ; That Hope full many a wreath shall twine For that unsullied brow of thine; That dimpled hand ! oh, may it know The presence of afi^ection's glow. When it, all trustfully, shall cling To those thou lovest — Annie Tyng. And when thy faltering feet shall go To tread where Jordan's waters flow ; When 'round them riseth many a wave, And those who love thee cannot save ; Saviour, enclasp this precious form Amidst the wreck of life's last storm. And safely through the valley bring The pilgrim feet of Annie Tyng. ANNIE TYNG. 33 Bear our beloved, then, with thee, Through pearly gates, whence she did flee ; Place her above the shining stars, Where not a trace of sorrow mars ; Crown her amid unchanging day, Her spirit clothe in white array, Where waveth many an angel wing — Our peerless child — sweet Annie Tyng. SPRING TIME. Spring-time ! thou comest with gladness now, Smiles are enwreathing thy lips and brow ; Thou bringest music for streamlet and rill, And robes of beauty for valley and hill. Oh ! tame thy footstep — thou canst not know Of a sunny head that doth rest so low ; Soften thine accents of joyous mirth. For its light is lost from our household hearth. Dost thou remember those azure eyes. Beaming with beauty caught from the skies? And the childish form that so gracefully Bent low to look in the violet's eye? Thou hast not forgotten the gleeful shout That rang from the fount of his happiness out 1 Nor the pleasant fall of those little feet. Ever bounding new joys to meet. SPRING TIME. 35 Dost thou remember his smooth white brow? Ah, me ! it dost rest in the churohyard now, And my heart forgets, as the tears flow down, That it weareth in glory a shining crown. Faithless and thankless ! why do I weep That his eyes are sealed in so sweet a sleep? Why do I long for his smile so fair. When his home is now where the angels are? Thou dost remember liis voice of song ! Will thou not miss it when passing along? Like a bird's it floated upon the air. Lovingly lingered its echoes there; Nevermore shall its sweet refrain Gladden and brighten our home again. Spring-time! come gently o'er valley and hill. When that lip of melody lies so still. Will thou not linger where he doth rest? Strewing thy offerings o'er his hushed breast. Will thou not. Spring-time, fond vigils keep Over his early, unbroken sleep? Bring there thy breathings of fragrant balm, Treasures of sunlight, and twilight calm — We would trace thy steps in that sacred spot. In thy fresh heart's gladness forget it not. 36 SPRING TIME. In the light of that far and fadeless shore, Where kindred footsteps fail nevermore; In the clime of glory, where he hath gone, In the radiance rare of eternal dawn, I shall meet the feet that have grown so still; That childish voice shall my spirit thrill ; I shall catch the gleam of his angel wing. As it waves 'neath the smile of Immortal Spring "MY jewels:' Lines wrilten while absent from ray children. I have a gentle, pensive child, With calm and thoughtful brow. Who cons delighted o'er the page Of learning even now. May years, long years, of bliss be hers, And may each day unfold Treasures of mind more rich and rare Than gems of purest gold. I have a bright-eyed, laughing child, Who- knows no grief or care, But passes on through life as though All things were bright and fair. I would that she might ever be Happy and gay as now ; That grief might never set its seal Upon that joyous brow. 38 "MY JEWELS." I have a son — a third sweet one, Whose little playful wiles, And mimic airs of dignity Win from us love and smiles. An upright, onward course, be his. And may that childish brow, When days and years have passed away. Be free from stain as now. My children ! we are parted now. When do you think of me? When daylight slowly fades in even ? Then most I think of ye. When slumber closes each bright eye. And stills each childish tone. How fondly Fancy turns to thee, ^ My cherished ones ! my own ! And if no more each little form Shall greet a mother's eyes, — ■ And if a dear familiar voice To mine no more replies, — 'Tis sweet to know there is a clime Where ties no more are riven ; 'Tis sweet to think we'll meet again In yonder blissful Heaven. LA UREL HILL CEMETERY. Philadelphia. Sweet spot, where flowers of loveliest hue In rich luxuriance bloom, And forest trees their verdure wave O'er the unconscious tomb ; I gaze on thee entranced, for even In Fancy's wildest dream, Nought e'er appeared so sweetly fair, — So beautiful did seem. Here childhood, with its sinless brow, Is calmly laid to rest, The light of many a darkened home, The loveliest and best. Youth sleepeth, too, 'mid bloom and shade, And little recks, I ween. Of the many hopes, and visions bright, Which gilded life's fair scene. 40 LAUREL HILL CEMETERY. Each flow'ret seems to speak to me A language of its own. They tell of hope and constancy, But not of these alone. The breath of love beyond the grave, For those who silent lie; They bid the stricken heart look up To the world beyond the sky. How sweetly manhood resteth here, Life's fitful fever o'er ; The sordid, burning cares of life Shall sear that heart no more. And those of three-score years and ten,- Surely to one like thee, The grave must be a blessed spot — Gate of Eternity ! And mighty genius* slumbers here, A pleiad lost and gone — Yet tones breathed from his spirit-harp Still sweetly linger on. Nor Time, nor Death, can ever quench That lofty, Godlike ray ; Perfected in a glorious world, 'Twill shine in endless day. ^ Willis Gaylord Clark. LAUEEL HILL CEMETERY. 41 So hushed and still ! I list in vain For some familiar tone ; Each lip is mute — no voice is heard Save echo of my own. Farewell ! and when this eye is dim, This throbbing heart is still, Let mo be gently laid to rest 'Mid thv bloom — sweet Laurel Hill. LOVE OK A reply to the Hon. Mrs. Norton's " Love Not.' What though the wreaths of Hope are made Of flowers that fade away, — Whose buds of beauty, in their morn, The spoiler's blight betray ? Though with a disappointed heart, Ye dream of brightness gone, — Still cling to their sweet memory. And still — love fondly on. What though the thing you love may die. And watching stars look down, Upon that spot of calmest rest, To place their silvery crown ! — Keep still the tenderest thoughts and true, For the beloved and gone. And though the days are dark and drear, — Love on — love fondly on. LOVE ON. 43 What though beloved eyes may change, And cease to smile on you ; And hands grow cold, and hearts estranged ; And lips no longer true ; Even then, though anguish rend the soul, And life and light seem gone, — Cling to the happy vanished hours, And still — love fondly on. Love on ! love on ! — the dear one's head Must keep its own fair crown. Its fadeless halo Time nor Death Can never more lay down ; And through the long eternal years, New glory it shall don, — With Cherubim and Seraphim, Whose hymn shall be — Love On. TO ADA HUSTON HA YES. God bless thee ! Little Ada, In thy unshadowed years, And ever cluster 'round thy path Life's hopes without its fears. My heart goes forth unto thee. And fain would I descry For thee a joyous future, — A cloudless destiny. I never yet have gazed upon Thy happy cherub face ; But still I often image forth A form replete with grace. And fancy giveth to thee Thy mother's brow of love, — And, too, her mild and gentle eye. With ray as from above. TO ADA HUSTON HAYS. 45 Hast thou her ringing laugh — That sweet and bird-like tone Whose echoes linger 'round me yet, Although the sound be gone? Speak for me to thy mother, My childhood's cherished friend, — The chosen one of youth's bright hours. Whose soul with mine did blend. Tell her that memory ever Goes back to grave and flower. And through the vista of past years, Brings forth each buried hour. It lingers o'er the path We trod on learning's mount. And bends again with deep delight O'er the Pierian fount. And sweetly, at its bidding. Comes up the early dead ; — The friend we loved, in years gone by,- Dust rests on her bright head. 46 TO ADA HUSTON SAYS. Once more — God bless thee, Ada ! In thy unshadowed years, And ever cluster 'round thy path Life's hopes without its fears. THE TWAIN. Around one happy household hearth They heard the same low hymn, Whose soothing echoes floated out When daylight's rays grew dim ; Together at the parent's knee They breathed their childish prayer, And in the joyous morning hour They knelt together there. One treadeth still his wonted paths, Throughout the home and hall, And with glad voice respondeth still To merry shout and call. One pleasant voice we hear no more, His feet have turned away, Only to walk o'er shining streets, Across heaven's dazzling way. 48 THE TWAIN. On one fair brow is lingering still Life's radiant, rosy light ; Its transient shadows come and go, Beneath love's skies so bright; — Upon the other, Death hath stamped His deep unchanging seal ; And yet it wears a golden crown Where Eden zephyrs steal. The hands of one find sweei employ In many a kindly deed, And win sweet words of tenderness, — Fair childhood's blessed meed. We folded one dear pair of hands Above a childish breast ; — They strike, even now, a golden harp. Amid the crowned and blest. One yet must tread life's battle field. To war with fierce proud foes ; And many a conflict may be his. E'er he shall know repose ; His heart may know dark sorrow's cloud, And stern affliction's hand, — Amid the hottest of the fray, Perchance he yet may stand. THE TWAIN. 49 The other rests from toil and care ; His conflicts all are o'er; — The foes that gather 'round life's way Shall vex his heart no more ; His spirits ne'er shall know a cloud, His soul a bitter pang ; Nor on his car shall ever fall, Life's jarring clash and clang. Oh, blessed sleeper ! who on earth Hath happiness like thee? We yield thee up, the Saviour's arms Thy place of rest to be ; And when death comes with icy hand, To chill thy brother's heart. May he, in thy high blessedness, Have everlasting part. LOVE'S 3IE8SENGER. " Among the superstitions of tlie Senecas, is one remarkable for its singular beauty. When a maiden dies, they imprison a young bird until it first begins to try its powers of song, and then, loading it with messiiges and caresses, ihey loose its bonds over her grave, in the belief that it will not fold iis wings, nor close its eyes until it has flown to the spirit land, and delivered its precious burden of affection to the loved and lost." Away thou bird! on fleetest pinions go, We wait to miss thee in yon azure high ; Love's holiest treasures on thee we bestow, Which thou wilt bear to climes beyond the sky. Falter not till Peri like hast won An entrance into Paradise, where dwells The cherished one that from our side hath gone, — Whose vacant seat our tale of sorrow tells. If there be one amid the angel band, Whose golden harp gives back the sweetest tone ; If 'mid the bright and fair, in that blest land, One seemeth brightest, fairest, 'tis our own. LOVE'S MESSENGER. 51 Our own! — thon'lt know her by the gentle smile, Soothing the soul like whisperings from heaven ; And by the love-lit eye, whose gleam meanwhile Shalt vie with starry crowns to seraphs given. On that young head the precious burden shower, Familiar household greetings, — that caress Whose faintest murmur had the magic power To wake her soul to deepest tenderness. Tell her, within that heart there is a shrine Deep, deep, — on which no mortal eye may look, — Where glows her image, changeless and divine. Whose deathless power long hopeless years can brook. Tell her how we have mourned her; that the eyes That smiled upon her youth have tearful grown ; The lips that breathed her childhood's melodies, Like broken harp-strings, tremble in their tone. Tell her that when our wonted vesper hymn Floats mournfully and cloud-like up to Heaven, Young hearts are sad, and flashing eyes are dim With memories of the link from Love's chain riven. LOVE'S MESSENGER. Tell her that every "tree and flower" she loved Sseras like an angel presence to our eyes ; The silver stream and fount by which she roved, Glow with a halo shed from out the skies. From that far spirit-clime, sweet bird, return ; — Brinp; us fond tidino;s from that land of rest. How will our waiting spirits hope and yearn For Love's own token from our crowned and blest. LINES. ' There are voices whose music I have loved full well. Eyes of deep geiuleness that are afar." The gorgeous rays that tell the sun at rest, Have faded like the pageantry of dreams; Not faintest trace of gold in yonder West, To tell how bright, how glorious were its beams. Twilight is gathering 'round me — the fair lake Has hushed its wavelets to unbroken sleep; No ripples on its placid bosom break, As deepening shadows gently o'er it creep. The live-long day the gold and azure sky Hung smilingly above it, cloudless, bright; Its mirrored beauties seeming e'er to lie Far down amid the depths of liquid light. My heart is sad — for boundless thought doth fly To linger 'round the absent and beloved ; And memory sits brooding, dove-like, by, Its blessed power, who loves and has not proved? 54 LINES. It breathes of many a dear and cherished tone, Whose echoes linger ever 'round my heart; Of eyes whose light fell fondly on mine own ; Of quivering lips, when fate had bid us part. Mainly since that dark hour ray soul hath yearned For life's glad music which it oft hath known ; For words and looks that from my path seemed turned, For blissful hours, now gone — forever gone. Now as I muse, and many a silvery star Sheds its mild radiance on my upturned brow, I know they look on those I love afar, Even as their gaze seems resting on me now. Hope gently whispers that the same blue sky That gleams above them doth o'ershadow me; That though long weary miles between us lie, Fondly united we again shall be. How shall I joy to gaze upon each face ! And catch each blessed murmur as of yore! Oh ! Time, I charge thee, leave thou not thy trace; Unchanged to me each cherished one restore. LINES. To Juliet L. Bostwick. ' Though lost to sight to memory dear." There was a time — a blessed time, When " we sat side by side," Breathing a changeless trust and love, Whatever might betide. I listened to each uttered thought. Fresh from thy loving heart. And never dreamed that coming years Should find us far apart. Brightly, as though on angel wings. Sped on those happy hours ; And every path we gaily trod Was radiant with Hope's flowers. When 'round my home, my own dear home, Thy cheerful accents fell, They woke within my heart a thrill — Thine was Affection's spell. 65 LINES. There came an hour, a dark sad hour — There came a ''last fond night;" Around me were the friends whose love Had made life all so bright. I felt how changed this world would be- I hnew that we must part. Hope's fearful knell was in mine ear, Despair around my heart. Soon, soon the final moment came — Our sad farewell was spoken ; And quivering lips and tearful eyes Proclaimed each fond tie broken. Oh! no — not broken — for I know There is a mystic thread That ever bindoth soul to soul, Though love's last words be said. Thou lingerest still in those dear haunts, And I am far away. Beauty is gleaming 'round my path, And sparkling waters play. And yet I turn from all, to muse On cherished ones afar. Whose image shines in memory's heaven As some bright worshipped star. LINES. 57 Thou dost not know what untold wealth My soul hath garnered up. Looks, words, and smiles, that memory keeps — Bright jeicefs in life's cup. Oh, hiy such treasures up, beloved, When glows love's summer sky; A dark, a wintry day may come, When sorrow's gale sweeps by. God bless thee! — may an angel's hand Strew briglitness 'round thy way ; And if our last farewell be said In bright eternal day. Oh, be it mine again to hear Edch fond, familiar tone; No crown more starry in that world, Sweet Juliet ! than thine own. THOUGHTS AT TWILIGHT Thy cheek wag pale, ray own sweet friend, When last I pressed thy brow. And the sad notes of thy farewell Steal o'er my spirit now ; Like the lone music of the shell, They murmur ever on In requiem tones, o'er vanished joys And hours forever gone. Yet 'tis a bliss for me to know That yonder azure sky That hangs in beauty o'er me now, Shadows thee from on high. That from their high and glorious home. Each silent silvery star Whose quivering light beams on thy brow Looks on me from afar. THOUGHTS AT TWILIGHT. 59 And 'tis a bliss to think upon Some future golden hour, When we shall meet again, and love Come with its wonted power. How like rich melody will fall Thy words upon mine ear, When I shall linger at thy side And list to accents dear. God bless thee ! from my inmost heart Comes forth a yearning prayer That if I meet thee not on earth, I shall ichere angels are. In yonder radiant, love-lit clime No cherished ties are broken, And through a long eternity No farewell word is sj^oken. THE MOTHER'S GRAVE. "There is a superstition among the Indians that if a child is laid upon its mother's grave, she makes herself known to it, conversing with it in dreams, and soothing all its fears." The summer sun, with burning rays Hath brightened hill and plain, And Heelehdee, we seek thy grave, We come to thee again ; For through the watches of the night Thy darling mourned for thee; Vain, vain were all our fondest words — A stricken lamb is he. Thou lovest him well, thine own fair boy, And thought his voice of mirth Thy sunshine and thy blessing, too — Thy peerless gem of earth. But thy sad spirit faltered here. When thy "own one" went home, Thou listened to the voice that seemed To bid thee upward come. THE MO T HE IV S GRAVE. 61 How could thou leave thy gentle child Around our home to mourn? So lone and sad, by fount and stream, He waits for thy return. Thy nam3 is echoed through the vale, And borne through forest wild; No answering tone comes back to bless Thy eager, waiting child. We come to lay his orphan's head Upon thy quiet grave — Here wilt thou come to soothe his grief, And roll back sorrow's wave; Yes! by the smile that plays upon That cheek so often wet. We know that in the spirit land, His mother he hath met. Forgotten gow his weary days, She roves with him once more Through forests green and shady paths, By yon fair streamlet's shore; A love light gleams around his path — An added ray is given To that whose brightness blessed his life, Tinged with the hue of Heaven. 62 THE MOTHER'S GRAVE. Sleep on, young dreamer, never wake- For, ah ! 't were bliss to go With her blest spirit at thy side From this, dark world of woe ; To pass so gently down death's vale, To wake to life above, And never round thy path to miss Thy childhood's holy love. THE VACANT CRADLE. Our little baby, Strayed from Paradise it may be. — Phoejuc Carey. It standeth all untenanted and lone, No little head its pillow now doth press, The pure white arms so often o'er it thrown, Leave but their memory in our hearts to bless. I li.sten vainly for the childi.sh voice, Proclaiming sleep's departure from an eye Whose star-like brightness bade our hearts rejoice, Whose merry glance did shadowing care defy. Where art thou, darling? Other homes are glad ; Where gleams the lustre of thy shining hair? And other hearts rejoice, though ours be sad. Missing thy presence everywhere. To us thou earnest, a fair and pleasant blossom, In spring's sweet hour, a blessing on our path ; And thou hast grown so dear to every bosom. Bereft of thee no dream the future hath. 64 THE VACANT CRADLE. Yet, oftentimes, a fancy o'er me steals, That only for a time to us thou'rt given, That thy pure sweetness but to us reveals An angel spirit strayed from its own Heaven ; One whom our Heavenly Father's gentle heart Will soon lead back unto the Shepherd's fold, Fairest and loveliest 'mid the infant band That sing His praise on tiny harjDs of gold. I will not think thus ; Hope, with tissue bright, Flings o'er the coming years a radiant hue. And thou art there, with eye of flashing light, Living and smiling in life's sunshine too. Yet should God take thee in thy sinless days. And place a starry crown upon thy head. Even though from us were hid thy artless ways. Darling \ we could not surely deem thee dead. Living forever by the crystal streams, Basking amid the sunshine of his love, A bliss ne'er imaged forth by Fancy's dreams — These should be thine in a blest home above. THE VACANT CRADLE. 65 And we should strive to look upon thee thus, To see thee only, seraph-like, with God, Though bleeding love had memories for us, Clinging to the pale form beneath the sod. Sweet one ! I number o'er each day and hour. That hides from me thy little cherub face ; And oft I think that, were but mine the power, As gossamer should prove both time and space. Pass fleetly on, ye moments ! speed the hour When home's fair wreath shall be unbound no more; Each bud and blossom, ^neath affection's power, Shall bloom with added beauty o'er and o'er. LINES TO NELLIE M. R. On her Birthday. Just fourteen years, sweet Nellie, since thine eyes Gazed wondrously upon the things of earth — A shining link amid love's golden ties, A mortal crowned with an immortal birth. Love was thy birthright, for an angel hand Gave to thy heart a dower of tenderness ; A precious gift was thine, the holy power, Through life's long hours to comfort and to bless. Purely and bright thine infant hours have sped ; Time passed on angel pinions fleetly by ; And now around thy young unshadowed brow Youth's rosy flowers in quiet beauty lie. All fair to thee seemed the long sunny hours That Hope presents inwove with tissue bright, And strangely fair the many radiant dreams That Fancy brightens with a future light. LINES TO NELLIE M. R. G7 On this, thy natal morning, may no cloud Mar the rich beauty of the azure sky — No shadows dim the proud meridian sun That moves in Kingly majesty on high. When eve steals on, may every silvery star, Serene and glorious, look with eye of love Upon the earth — Heaven's watchful sentinels, That through all time their vigilance will prove. Ever thus I fondly wish may pass thy days. Without a cloud to dim their radiant light — AVithout a shade of care to mark thy l)row Or shed upon thy heart its withering blight. And in the early happy days of youth May blest Religion shed o'er thee its rays : " Her ways are pleasantness and her paths are peace," To those whose lips proclaim the Saviour's praise. And when life's hours are fading fast away. And earth receding from the mortal sight. Serenely may thou pass through Death's dark vale, Up to a home amid the realms of light ; And there, with glittering crown and harj). May thou, with voice attuned to strains of love. Wake glorious strains with Heaven's minstrelsy, Clad in the robes that wait the blest above. HOUSEHOLD BLOSSOMS. When In spring from icy earth Came th€ first sweet blossom forth — When the fair anemone Came to deck the hill and lea — When each quaint, ice-bound stream Woke, as from a pleasant dream; Then thou come to glad our eyes. Fairy flower from Paradise. Four bright summers thou hast given Radiance from thy native Heaven ; Gently have *hey kissed a brow Cloudless as the azure now. Mirrored in those laughing eyes. What a world of brightness lies ; Beauties cluster round that lip Where the gods might nectar sip. HOUSEHOLD BLOSSOMS. 69 We grow fonder, day by day, As we mark each winning way ; Listening to each question strange, As far as busy mind doth range. No sweeter sound mine ear doth greet, Than the light pattering of his feet ; No tones more full of melody Than his clear laugh of childish glee. With bended knee, at early eve — With faith that doth all good believe, He murmurs forth his little prayer That God will take him in his care. And as he lays that young bright head To rest upon his little bed, Affection's ray still on him beams, And guides him to the land of dreams. I muse upon the future dim. And sigh to think, perchance for him There may be hours of grief and woe, — For such the happiest mortals know. God, keep and guide him in his youth. Impress him with thy precious truth ; Give him a place in that bright throng. And teach his lips the angePs song. HO USEHOLI) BL OSSOMS. ;}: >!< >lc ^ * When the golden summer hour Beamed with its intensest power; When upon the balmy air Floated fragrance rich and rare, Blossom then we welcome thee; And glad nature's minstrelsy, Echoing round the joyous earth, Seems to gladly hail thy birth. One short year has quickly fled, And upon that darling head Gleams the soft and golden hair, Such, methinks, as angels wear. In the depths of those blue eyes Untold radiance stilly lies. Concentrating in their gaze, Borrowed light from Heaven's own rays. We gaze, not with a prescient power, Upon the unknown future hour; Father ! we fear such purity Is not for earth — but lent by thee. That thou, 'ere childhood's days were told, Will gather to thy happy fold Our precious lamb, to whom was given A radiance from its native Heaven. HOUSEHOLD BLOSSOMS. 71 We cannot tell — full many year.s May all be his, with smiles and tears ; Full many a blessing may he bring To hearts that to his presence cling. Amid earth's ways be it his part, To bind the crushed and bleeding heart. An angel in Life's path to prove His mission one of peace and love. Whether, for him, the future hour Shall come with an enlivening power ; Or, sleeping in his lowly bed, The grassy turf spring o'er his head ; Guide him, O Father, with thy love, Up to the shining courts above; And while earth's pilgrimage we run. Teach us to say, "Thy will be done." JUDEA. "A mighty temple, filled with remembrances of the majestic, past. Land where the calm blue skies still bend O'er the thrice sacred spot, Where Bethlehem's babe took up life's march, And bore earth's pilgrim lot; Where Jordan's waters murmur still, And flow as brightly now, As when the pure baptismal drops Gleamed o'er his sinless brow. Land where the mount and vale still speak Of the pure feet that trod So meekly in the. paths of life, A man, and yet a God ; Holy thou art, and loving hearts Their faithful vigils keep, Over the vanished years, whose clouds In vain the spirit sweep. JUDEA. n There thy deep shades, Gethsemane, Closed 'round his dark despair, And rose that heavenly utterance, In tones of breathing prayer: There angel forms, in that sad hour Unfurled the shining wing. And from a father's gentle hand, Calm blessedness did bring. There thou dost stand, Mount Calvary, Still, still the mighty seal That God hath stamped upon the earth, His mercy to reveal. Where pale Humanity's heart throbs, In direst anguish beat, To frame for Earth's lost wanderers, A sure and safe retreat. Yea, thou art Holy Land, where saints And patriarchs gently sleep ; Where shepherds on the starlit plains, Their mighty watch did keep ; Where Faith, with clear and undimned eye. Looked only up to Heaven, Winning the precious guerdon back. Her hand to God had given. 74 JUDEA. Land of Judea ! sunlight falls, Methinks, more bright on thee ; There azure skies have hung around Love's deepest mystery. Thy quiet stars, that watch on high, Do they not ever shine. Amid their brightness, sacred truths And principles divine? Land of Judea ! every leaf Borne on thy balmy breeze, Doth gather round it untold wealth In blessed memories ; Thy streams are sacred, fount and flower. The valley and the hill, Jehovah's high omnipotence. Is speaking from them still ! THE TWIN BROTHERS. Two joyous children sported once, In cloudless infancy ; Each wore the same fair sunny smile, Their's the same voice of glee. They heard together childhood's songs, The same sweet cradle hymn. When the pure stars came stealing out. And daylight's rays grew dim. Together still when youth's glad hours Shone o'er each childish head ; Through dingle and through dell they roved, With light and happy tread. And stranger eyes gazed with delight. As thus they looked the same. Alike in cheek, and lip and brow. Alike in all save name. 76 THE TWIN BROTHERS. Oh 'twas a sight of beauty rare, And many a word was said, Invoking heaven's blessing down Upon each youthful head ; Calling to bird and butterfly, — Chasing the murmuring bee, — Oh, merrily their glad hours passed. Their days were full of glee. But, ah ! amid that home of love, The spoiler's step was heard ; He hushed the gentle mother's voice, Sealing each wonted word. A stranger voice must breathe the strain, That sweetly lulled to rest ; That lovelit eye is darkened now, And cold that sheltering breast. Oh! desolate and changed that home — Love's fairest wreath unbound — With saddened hearts they twine it o'er A lonely church-yard mound. Its buds and flowers are glowing with Affection's sacred tears, It leaves perennial, safe from blight, Through manv future years. THE TWIN BROTHERS. On, on from youth, the twain did pass, While on each pure high brow, We marked the lines of thoughtful care, — Each was a warrior now. In life's stern battle each did take Helmet and glittering spear, And with true heart and fearless step. To stoutest foes drew near. But as the years went swiftly by, They found them far apart. Fate severed love's familiar ties, It never heeds the heart. The fond, the true — they learned to live With weary miles between, O'ershadowed by the same blue sky. The same star's silvery sheen. And now beneath the western skies One resteth calmly now, Life's cares and changes never more Shall mar that manly brow. The hand so often clasped in his, In childhood's sunny hour. Wiped the chill death-dew from his brow With love's own changeless power. 78 THE TWIN BROTHERS. Sweet be his sleep — oh, quiet stars Shine on his place of rest ; Flowers ! gentle messengers from heaven, Bloom brightly o'er his breast ; And when before the Great White Throne, The severed ones shall stand, Grant that a place be given to them, Father! at thy right hand. A HEARTS THANKSGIVING. For the rosy light of morn, From a home of shadows born — For the gladdening sunny ray Shining through the perfect day — For the noontide's fervid hour — For the twilight's holy power — For the midnight, with its tone Veiled in mystery alone, I thank thee, Father ! For each little, humble flower, Peeping forth in Spring's first hour — For the fragrance, rich and rare. Floating; on the summer air — For the golden, gorgeous dyes Gleaming 'aeath autumnal skies — For the genial winter hour. Girded with an icy power, I thank thee. Father! 80 A HEART'S THANKSGIVING. For the wealth of fruit and flower, Adding joy to every hour — For the streamlet's silvery flow, With its voice of long ago — For the ocean's power and might, Flowing on through Time's quick flight, Speaking with a thunder tone, Or breathing low and mournful moan, I thank thee, Father ! O'er my path are blessings shed ; Holiest mercies crown my head ; The murmured vows of early youth, Still echo o'er their changeless truth. The music tone of Love's first hour Still deepens with a deathless power ; For happiness so rare and pure — For love that doth through time endure — I thank thee. Father ! That the prayer of infancy Hath been murmured at my knee, — Household flowers, whose deathless bloom Fill my heart with rich perfume ; Clustering around my happy path, No such joy the wide world hath ; For the hope to live above With those redeemed by matchless love, I thank thee. Father ! A HEART ^'^ THANKSaiVINir. 81 That the eves, whose loving- i-ay Falls so kindly, day by day — That the li})s, whose f^entle tone Throu<;h life's lapses have been known — That the arms that circled me Throngh unconscious infancy, Are near me still, my life to bless With changeless love and tenderness, I thank thee, Father ! For Salvation's wondrous plan, Given to rescue fallen man — For the lamp of life, whose ray Turneth darkness into day ; Lighting up Death's lonely vale, Quelling foes who oft assail, And pointing to a better world Where Love's broad banner is unfurled, I thank thee. Father ! For the Heaven, where robes of light Awaits the victor through love's night ; Where in rapture saints bow down To receive the glittering crown. Where a glorious minstrelsy. Blending all harmoniously, Throughout eternity's long hour. Proclaim Jehovah's love and power, I thank thee, Father ! TO A BEREAVED ONE. Unto thy guarded and sheltered fold Death came with a stealthy tread, And bore away, through the valley dark, Thy lamb to the silent dead ; Amid the circle in thy dear home, Thou dost gaze on a vacant chair, And mourn for the little sunny face That shall never more brighten there. Thou hast looked thy last on fhe precious form, Thine idol, thy pride and care, And wept as thou gave to the cold, damp earth, A being so beauteous and fair. Thou hast folded the eyelid in dreamless sleep, — Heard the childish heart grow still, And turned from the grave, love's last fond shrine, To thy home grown strange and chill. TO A BEREAVED ONE. 83 By the nieniory of the radiant light That lit up the lips and brow, — By the rustlino; felt of the angel wing, When thou in grief dost bow ; There shall come to thy soul a gentle voice, Breathing such dreams of heaven That thy soul will be glad that such perfect bliss To thv cherished child is o-iven. No tears, no tears for the happy one, Whose young and untried feet Have early turned from the weary paths, Which all life's wanderers greet. A loosened bird, in its upward flight. Ye gaze on its glancing wing ; But seek not to woo it back again, — O'er its soul a fetter to fling. No tears, no tears, though the earth and sky May Avear a less glorious hue; And the murmuring sound of the streamlet's flow, Is bereft of its music too. No tears, though memories cling to thy soul Of fair childhood's parted smile ; — Though the rosy lips and merry eye Shall no more thy heart beguile. 84 TO A BESEAVED ONE. For up in you radiant, deathless >vorld, 'Neath a Heavenly Father's eye, Undinimed by sorrow, untouehed by eare. His hours glide sweetly by ; Never to sorrow, and never to mourn. In a mantle of glory arrayed : Oh, say, 'mid thy fondest hope for thy child, Couldst thou of such hlisfi have prayed ? And thou never again may the little feet Come pattering unto thee. Though never, around thv darkened home. Shall echo that voice of glee. Though oft as the eve steals gently on. Thou shalt bend o'er the little bed. Striving to see through thy blinding tears Some trace of that sunnv head. Look up, look up to the world of love, And list to the seraph strain, And hark ! how the tones so missed from earth Come echoing back again. Thy child awaits thee in robes of light. By the fair celestial shore ; Thou shalt find him there 'midst the pure and bright. And be parted nevermore. MEMORIES OF ONE lih:iJ)Vh:i). "The (IcikI— wIkwc image; nuiiKlit may on should I hear thy welcome voice. And list to each tbnd reply. I thought not then of the long, long days. Since I on thy tace had looked, — Forgotten the painful, parting hour. That memorv never brooked. THE LOVED AND LOST. m Alas ! alas I that thy home, sweet friend, Is strangely lone and drear, For the voireless room, and the vacant chair, Tell me thou art not here. I wander amid each familiar spot, And my sad heart pines in vain For the coming step and the welcome tone I shall never more hear again. Oh ! sadly and tearfully comes the truth That THOU to thy rest art laid — Thou for whose well-remembered smiles My soul hath so (jften prayed. Thou art hidden from me, oh, well beloved. Our meetings on earth are o'er. And my spirit's chords are echoing back The requiem tone no more. And can it be that the Spring will come Again with its robe of green? In the golden train of the Summer hours Will gladness and mirth be seen ? Will Autumn come with its golden hues, And the Winter hours roll on '.' Can the earth seem bright and beautiful. When THOU to the dust art gone? 90 THE LOVED AND LOST. It seemeth unto my saddened heart That the flowers must cease to bloom, And the sunshine fade, and the gentle wind Breathe requiem notes of gloom. That with thy life fled such sweetness rare, That nature her grief must show ; Shrouding the beauty and brightness of earth In habiliments of woe. Oh ! cherished friend, from thv far-oflP home, Come to my soul once more. And whisper to me of the radiance rare That illumines yon happy shore. Come with the blest dreams of Our Father's home, Of the many mansions there — And cheerfully I will tread the paths That lead to a land so fair. A WELCOME. Lines inscribed to the Johnslonian Club, of Peoria, Illinois. Mine eyes have waited long-, dear friends, Witli faith and hope to see yon all Beneath the roof-tree of onr home. Within the echo of my call. And days and months have fleeted by, With promises all nnfilled. Until I wished that with some art To woo you here I might be skilled. The spirit of the chainless mind, Kind thought, was ever busy still. Beguiling me with memories sweet. Which had the power my heart to thrill. Your voices lingered 'round my life. Your pleasant words were numbered o'er, Although unto my vision came Remembered brightness — nevermore. 92 .4 WELCOME. But now, to-night, with happy heart That of enjoyment asks no more, I welcome yon within our home, And greet you warmly, o'er and o'er. Familiar voices make me glad. And kindly eyes shed wonted light ; Blessing with beauty and with grace And cheer, the winter's night. God bless you all through coming time And strew each path with rosy flowers ; Making the passing moments bright Before they fade in golden hours. Touching the warp and woof of life With colors whose enduring light Shall take their radiance from the world. Whose days eternal know no night. God bless you all, and bring your feet Upon our threshold oft to stand, Where happy doors shall open wide To greet you 'mid our household band. God bless you with his love and care, Until w^e aU shall dwell in peace On the bright shore where kindred souls Shall meet, and friendships never cease. CLASH SONG. Of the CJrartuatcs of tho Peoria High School, 1878. Happy hours of joy and gladness, Leave no trace of care or sadness On each light and youthful heart; But to-day a shadow stealcth O'er the sunshine, and revealeth Words that whisper, We mnsf part. Four bright years of peace and ])leasure, Bringing Spring and Summer's treasure. Mellowed skies and balmy air; White, cold Winter, full of laughter, Full of sweet thoughts coming after. Merry spirits to declare, — When we loved to greet each other. Fond and true, as sister, brother, Welcoming the moments bright. Which would call us to our places, There to greet familiar faces, Lips that would our joy requite. 94 CLASS SOXG. But we part, and moruing's splendor Brings not back, with summons tender, Joyous hearts and footsteps light; But with tears in silence falling, Mem'ry pleasant hours recalling, Shall their blessedness recite. Classmates ! e'er to-day we sever, To the care of the Great Giver, Let Its each commit our way ; And when life's dreams all are over, May his angels 'round us hover, Bearing us to cloudless day. Where, with teachers of earth's pages, We, throughout eternal ages. May these vanished hours recall ; Where, beside life's sparkling river. We shall find calm rest forever. And God's smiles like sunlight fall. THE CONVICrS MOTHER. Amid the crowd she sat, so wan and sad, Awaiting with a wrung and throbbing heart The word — to make life's path so pleasant seem, Or from that frame to make the life-blood start. The then gray hair fell o'er the pallid brow, Whose furrows to.ld of grief and toiling care ; The sunken eye, the bloodless lip and cheek, Proclaimed the sorrow that was deepening there. The fearful truth had come to her afar. That Ac, her only son, lay bound in chains; On wings of love and hope, o'er many miles. She came, unheeding toil, fatigue and pains. Through the long, dreary way she hastened on. And now she waits for the decisive word — While ever and anon from her full heart A groan, a prayer, so agonized, was heard. 96 THE CONVICTS MOTHER. " Guilty ! " and aj? that bitter word raug out, It seared, as if with lire, that mother's soul ; She called with frenzied accents on her child, While burning tears o'er stern cold faces roll. And as they bore him to his prison back. She clung around him, while her breaking heart Twined its strong tendrils, firmer than of old. Around the life of hers so fair a part. " My child, my child, thy mother speaks to thee, Rememberest thou thy childhood's wonted tone When life was fair to us, and when these lips Sang thee to rest — my beautiful, mine own? 1 will not give thee up to chains and death — Thou slialt not go to fill a felon's cell, — But here, as long as feeble life shall last, These circlino- arms a mother's love shall tell. " Alas ! alas ! I dreamed not of this hour When thou wert slumbering sweetly at my side ; Oh ! would to God that in that unstained time, In thy young grace and beauty thou had'st died. Say, can it be, that thou whose rosy lip So sweetly echoed many a lisping prayer, Could wander sadly from a narrow path. And crush my heart with bitter, wild despair?" THE CONVICTS MOTHER. 97 " Mother!" The doomed one spake, and in that tone Was gathered up a heart's deep agony. "My soul is guiltless of that fearful crime — Unstained these hands — an innocent I die; [ have never forgot the gentle voice That soothed and guided me thro' childhood's hour, My mother's prayer is hovering round me yet, In hallowed memory of undying power. "And though my name be through the coming years A thing of scorn, contempt, and pity too. Heed not the dark,/a/.S'e whispers that may fall — Believe me, mother, true to truth and you. I am not hopeless — though mine hours be few; I am not comfortless — though death draws near;. And in the light of heaven my soul will stand, Its innocence unshadowed shall appear. "Look up, sweet mother! think how short the time Until my pain and weariness is done; Look up, and with the tones of olden years Bless me once, thy wronged and dying son. Farewell ! farewell, although the tie be riven That closely bound my fleeting life to thee; 'Twill be a joy to thee to know and feel That from this guilt my stricken soul is free.'^ 98 THE CONVICT'S MOTHER. She spoke not, moved not, yet so firmly clung To him who lowly bent to kiss her brow ; Her hands are loosed with gentleness and care — " Mother, oh bless thy doomed son even now." No answer! — all is over, life is done: With the wild joy that he was free from sin Her heart's strong cords were sundered, and she stood At heaven's fair portals, and passed gently in. " Rest thee, fond mother, rest thee calmly now. Thy soul's deep woe and sorrow are repaid ; By Life's pure river thou shalt welcome soon Thy son who treads e'en now the valley's shade." From out the gloom he sees an angel hand That calls him up 'neath heaven's unclouded skies, He hears a " still, small voice " that bids him come To dwell that dav with thee in Paradise. A VALENTINE. Thy name is treasured in my soul With all things fair and bright; Love weaves around it tendrils strong That cling with deathless might. Its echoes, like the sea-shell's tone, Can never cease, nor die. But murmur, sweetly, sadly on. Its cadence borne on high. Thy name — it trembles on my tongue, When stars their radiance pour, — When weary Earth seems lulled to rest And toilsome care is o'er. The midnight, veiled in mystery, Hath known the magic sound. And rosy morn hath caught the tone While still it lingered round. 100 A VALENTINE. I breathe it in my fondest prayer, To Him who dwells on high, And ask for thee the watch and ward Of his unsl umbering eye. The guidance of a Father's hand Across life's stormy way, The perfect bliss of Heaven's fair clime,- Of its unclouded day. And then I hush my throbbing heart, And bid it stilly keep; The name whose echoes thrill my soul, Whose memory bids me weep. I would not thou shouldst ever know. How deep thy image lies, — I would not have thee see the tears That fall from watching eyes. For down within my truthful heart, I'll keep thy memory bright; Kg hand, save thine, shall part the clouds That veil its living light. And then, perchance, on some fair day, By Love's own chosen sign, Thou'lt know whose heart is given to thee, Thy faithful Valentine. ' LINES. Inscribed to Mrs. Amaii la Simerel Grimes. Sweet friend, unto nw prairie home There came a missive fair, That tohl me that the bridal wreath Was woven for thy hair. And with thesj tidings memories came Of happy by-gone years. When life was lavish with its smiles, And chary of its tears. Remembrance brought thee, as of old^ With merry lip and eye — With sunny brow and cheerful heart That could each care defy. I heard the cadence of thy tones That oft unto my soul Come — even as strains of melody O'er moonlit waters roll. 102 LINES. Fancy round me flung her robe, And bade me gaze afar To thy fair home — that festive scene Where thou did'st shine — a star. And shutting out the outer world, I saw thee, gentle bride, Clad in thy robes of purest white, Thy chosen at thy side. I seemed to hear upon thy lips That sacred marriage vow That gave thee to another's home. Though thine be lonely now. And thy fond mother's loving smile Gleamed forth amid the tears, When yielding up the cherished child The blessing of her years. Thine own loved sisters — in whose hearts Thine image lies enshrined ; Bring now for thee Atfection's flowers For thy fair brow entwined. Tongue can not toll tlie tenderness In their fond wishes breathed ; Nor Fancy image forth the tints With which those flowers are wreathed. LINES. 10:i And many a dear, familiar face, I see around thee press — And hands are clasped, and blessings given In tones of tenderness. Faces — whose image memory keeps Among her jewels rare ; Hearts — that have echoed back to mine, And left their impress there. God bless thee in thy happiness. My sweet and cherished friend ; And may the choicest bliss of life Thy daily paths attend. Thrice happy he, whose privilege It is to tread with thee The walks of life, and from the world The one beloved to be. A MEMORY. "Remembrance calls thee from the dust.' She came to earth — a blossom fair, Fresh from the bowers of Heaven ; Unto her eye and cheek and brow Its radiant hues were given. Her childish lip was never tuned To notes of mortal birth, Nor lingered ever on her tongue The meaner strains of earth. For Death hath taken from our side Our cherished one — our own ! And the first word our darling breathes Will be an angel tone. Methinks, oh spirits bright and fair, That sweet is the employ That learns her infant heart to know How rapturous is her joy. That teaches her young hand to stray O'er tiny harps of gold, Awaking the strains of minstrelsy As her pure bliss is told. GONE BEFORE. 'No wherefore? or 'to what good end' ? Shall out of doubt anguish creep Into our thoughts. We bow our heads; He giveth his beloved sleep." When the hours of childhood threw Round my path their rosy hue, — When I glided down life's stream, Compassed by a fairy dream, — At my side a fair-browed child, Many a fleeting hour beguiled, Throwing round my neck white arms. Seeking reluge from alarms. Not of our dark earth he seemed. Angel radiance round him gleamed; Gentle eye, and brow of thought. Cheek where pensive changes wrought. Questioning lip of wonderous power. Glowing all with beauty's dower; Little heart whose loving ways Filled with joy and tears our gaze. 106 GONE BEFORE. Happy children, floated we Gently down life's tranquil sea ; Morning found our opening eye, Ready beauties to descry. Evening's silver star shone out, Hushing then our merry shout, Calling up the little prayer, For Our Father's guardian care. Lingered long our mother's kiss, Filling up our cup of bliss; Bending o'er the little bed Where reposed each childish head, Murmured she a fond good night. Leaving angels fair and bright. Holy watch and ward to keep Over childhood's blessed sleep. Only for three happy years Dwelt he where are smiles and tears; Then he opened angel eyes In the bowers of Paradise. While I wondered sad and lone. Making oft my childish moan. For the child, whose voice was hushed- For the hopes forever crushed. GONE BEFORE. 107 Pallid was our mother's brow, For the presence slumbering low ; Traces of that shining head Vanished from its little bed, Echoes of that childish prayer Never more to linger there — Never more the sweet good-night, From those lips all still and white. Vanished is full many a year. With attending smile and tear ; Time and change have left their trace Strangely on each youthful face. And looking back that fair child seems An angel form, that comes in dreams To whisper of a radiant clime. Beyond our ken unknown to Time. Now our mother's gaze beholds him — Noio her loving arms enfolds him — Fast by life's pure flowing river. Peace and joy are theirs forever. To his all protecting bosom, Jesus gathers bud and blossom ; Withering blight can never come To that high, eternal home. 108 GONE BEFORE. When ray life's sands run so low, — When my faint heart throbs so slow, — When the loving round me stand, And I give the feeble hand ; Where doth dwell my angel brother — Where doth dwell my sainted mother — Take me Father, take me home, Where Death's shadow may not come. / CANNOT THINK THEE DEAD. •'The dead! whom call we so? They that breathe purer air, that feel, that know Things wrapt from us- the dwellers on the shore Of Spring fulfilled — that sorrow nevermore." I cannot think thee dead — though life's glad light No more may radiate from that gentle eye — Though those dear hands, with loving mission done, Folded, so stilly o'er the hushed heart lie. Though never more may linger on those lips The wonted tone of love's familiar word — Accustomed household greeting — welcomes fond, That ever through life's lapses have been heard. I cannot think thee dead, — though silence sets Its crown of shadows o'er that placid face, Impressed by Heaven with its mild purity, The spirits parting gleam of angel grace. no / CANNOT THINK THEE BEAD. A token to the loving of the bliss Unknown, untold, in realms of unstained light; A welcome to the waiting angel band — A victor's triumph o'er Death's proudest might. I cannot think thee dead, — though I have pressed All tearfully thy calm unchanging brow ; Though from the vacant chair there comes no word, No lingering tone to bless my spirit now. Though with a bursting heart mine eyes beheld That dear head pillowed in its coffin bed; And given with tears unto its silent rest. Yet still, beloved, I can not think thee dead. Around life's every path I hear thy voice. That voice that sweetly sang my cradle hymn, And taught my lips the prayer of trusting faith, When shining stars bade daylight's rays grow dim. I see thy patient smile that sweetly spake A meek submission to thy Father's hand; The soul triumphant o'er disease and pain. The ministrations of an angel band. / CANNOT THINK THEE DEAD. Ill Thou art not dead! Eternal life is thine, And with the Cherubim and Seraphim, Hast learned the cadence of that strain of glory, And tune thy golden harp to breathe its hymn. With tiie apostles' company thou art — And with the fellowship of prophets too ; And noble martyrs who, 'mid tortures keen, Cluns: to their Master with life's last adieu. And with the Crucified, whose feet have trod The lonely mountain and the shadowy vale, Passing o'er Jordan's waters deep and dark, In the lone tomb, a sleeper still and pale. Risen in glory at our Father's side. New life and bliss His hand, all powerful, gives, Beneath His smile on His sustaining breast, Where Death may never come — my mother lives. THE DYING YEAR. Pale, dying year, thy requiem tone For vanished brightness, beauty gone, Floats mournfully o'er hill and dale. And mingles with the midwind's wail. From thy worn heart there comes a sigh. That like a spirit-voice sweeps by; And to the saddened heart doth tell, In mournful numbers, thy farewell. Thy farewell to the hours of spring, The streamlet's gentle whispering; Thy robe of green and violet bloom, Have found their birth place but a tomb ; The summer's glory is no more. Its untaught minstrelsy is o'er. And silence reigns in forest aisles Once proudly lit with Nature's smiles. THE DYING YEAR. 113 Yet deeper sounds thy requiem tone, And sadder wakes thy spirit's moan, — For thou hast wooed to dreamless rest. To slumber on the earth's eold breast. Forms that have gladdened home and hearth, And made like heaven our darkened earth, — And sunny smiles, whose gleaming bright, Seemed touehed with hues of living light. For the dear household voices hushed. Whose tones, like music murmurs gushed; For the lone home, the vacant chair, And blessings often uttered there ; For steps of unreturning feet; For welcomes we no more will meet From silent lips whose tenderness Came with a thrilling power to bless. Yea! sound for these thy saddening note, For these let mournful requiems float; They come not back with Spring's glad hours They come not back with Summer flowers. They wake not from their quiet sleep. Though love its faithful vigils keep; The sacred tear, the heartfelt sigh, Lifts no dark shadow from the eye. c9 114 THE DYING YEAR. Where years are numbered nevermore — Where fleeting days and months are o'er, — Fixed in that high, eternal home, Where Death's dread shadow may not come, Is the beloved look and tone, — • The gentle smile of old, our own ; That radiant land can never know, Like thee, pale year, a requiem low. TO THE NEW YEAR. Thou comest in glory, thou glad New Year, Time hath not shadowed thine eye so clear; The wreath of Hope is above thy brow, And its glowing buds seem bursting now ; Phoenix like, thou dost soar on high," Unheeding the ashes that round thee lie. We welcome thee, yet a requiem pour For the parted year that returns no more ; For the long, bright hours that have fleeted fast To the silent land, to the shadowy past; A sacred spell is around them thrown. Awaking to sadness the heart's deep tone. Holy their memory, fair and bright, Time shall not darken the glowing light; We will think of Spring with its violet blue, Of Summer fragrance and fairy hue ; We will think of the beauty of hill and dell. Clad with such truths as angels tell. 116 TO THE NEW YEAR. And thougb we miss from the silent home The steps that no longer to meet us come, — Though we vainly yearn for the kindly tone, And the smile that unto the dust hath gone,-' — Though around our board is a vacant seat. Blessed Kemembrance, 'tis thee we greet. 'Tis the ''joy of grief," and it soothes the heart To know that though those we love depart, — Though the turf shall press on the cherished head,- Though love's smile is gone and its last word is said,- Memory, keeping her sacred trust. Calls them all back from the silent dust. Spring in its gladness will soon retvirn, Summer shall wake from the mouldering urn, Flowers shall spring over hill and dale, Garlands be gathered to tell love's tale ; And the brooklet shall glide in its joy along, Drowsily humming its sweet, low song. But the loved and lost! they will come no more, With the parted year they have gone before; May we find them all in the world of light. Where Azrael's shadow will cast no blight; Where we count not life by our days and years, !Nor shed o'er the hopeless past our tears. LINES. I sometimes wonder that if death should come With stealthy tread unto my happy home, To tell me, that of those I love so well, One in his silent shadowy realm must dwell. No hope, no refuge from his fatal dart, Which could I yield him first, oh, loving heart? Whi(!h of mine own, my blessed household band, Could I resign, though for the better land? Not him to whom my early vows were given, Whose love has made this earth seem like a heaven ; Oh no ! oh no ! the dark and cheerless tomb May not enclose him with its voiceless gloom. Not her who first made glad my parent heart — Our first to love, of our young life a part; Whose opening bloom has blest us day by day, Oh, Death ! I pray thee take her not away. Nor him, with noble soul and manners mild, Whom one short year we've loved to call our child ; Oh no ! not him, that high and loving heart I fain would shield from thy unerring dart. 118 LINES. Onr absent child ? Oh no ! destroyer, no ! Near her bright path I pray thee do not go ; We wait to welcome her around our hearth, And long to listen to her voice of mirth. Our fair young boy — with free and happy soul Enjoys the moments that so brightly roll ; I would not see that flashing eye grow dim, Seal'd in thy slumbers — ask thou not for him. Not my loved parents ? take thou not from me The arms that were my childhood's panoply; Life would be sad and drear unto their child, Missing the love that o'er my days has smiled. My own dear brother? no, thy ways pursue; Ye may not take him, for we are but two ; My heart with keenest sorrow would o'erflow, If to the grave this cherished one should go. All, all too dear! each golden link so bright; Death ! cast no shadow on love's rosy light; Father, Thou gavest thein all ; to Thee we look To us the future is a sealed book. THE LITTLE GRAVE. Inscribod to Mrs. Amanda Word, of C'suiiz, Ohio. The parting sunlight fell upon eaeh mound, As once I wandered where Death's sleepers lay, And gazed upon the tokens gleaming 'round, That told of loved and loving — passed away. My soul was sad, as often I did trace Names that I loved in many vanished years; Stars that in memory's heaven claimed a place. Names glowing on its shrine — still, still feo dear. The speaking marble told me many a tale Of blighted hopes, of stricken, buried love; Faith whispered, too, that the dark shadowy vale Was but a prelude to the world above. I lingered lone; beside one little mound Where hive's own myrtle twined so freshly o'er. One word, " Willie," told whose grave was found. It was enough — my heart asked for no more. 120 THE LITTLE GRAVE. That name ! how it recalled the gentle child Whose sunny head was pillowed in the grave, Whose angel presence^ and whose accents mild, Gone, hushed for aye — affection could not save. Even as I mused bright fancy bade me list To seraph-tones from out the better land, Waked by the blessed child whose love you missed, The harpstrings blending 'neath his little hand. It bade me mark how on its fair young heart A starry crown with brightest glory gleamed ; How perfect was the bliss around him shed, More radiant far than mortals ever dreamed. THE ITALIAN BOY. " He mourned for his mother eoiistaiitl/, and seemed afraid to die." It was a fair young face to look upon, Though marred with keenest agony and pain, Though the dark eye, that like a star once shone, Might n(;ver glow with radiant life again; The pallid brow gleamed out so strangely sad, From the rich tresses of his raven hair, While the parched lip the tale of sorrow told. That for his heart-strings Death was waiting there. He was Italia's child — its azure skies Hung smilingly above his earliest years; But he had roved afar from that fair clime, While loving hearts kept memories and tears. He turned away from his own vine-clad hills, And sought a home across the ocean's wave ; Ah ! little deemed he that Hope's guiding star Should lo.se its brightness in an unknown grave. 122 THE ITALIAN BOY. Kind hearts were gathered 'round the dying boy, Soft hands had smoothed his pillow, day by day ; He heeds them not, but sadly turns from all To long for one, long weary miles away. His heart is with his home beyond the sea. His grief bursts forth in wailing tones of ^A'•oe, And the full fount of feeling in each soul Seems now its utmost bounds to overflow\ "Oh tell me not," he cries, "of dreary Death, I know it will not claim me yet ; the door, Our cottage door, wnll open for me still. My mother's voice will welcome me once more ; She waits for me ; and my young sister, too, Twines the rich myrtle for her girlish brow. Oh ! with that happy vision on my soul, I can not think of Death and darkness now. " The world to me is beautiful and bright, I love the cheerful sunshine passing well ; Like angels seem the gentle flowers That clothe in beauty many a hill and dell ; Such happy thoughts will win me back to life. And I shall hear Earth's melodies again. Shall rove with bounding steps and fearless soul O'er the free mountain and unconquered plain. THE ITALIAN BOY. 123 "And yet this racking pain and fever throb — Oh ! wliy, my mother, com'st thou not to me ? I yearn for thy remembered look of h)ve, I long to hear one tender word from thee. Come to me, mother, for they tell me now Of a dark valley I am drawing near; Give me the guidance of thy gentle hand, And I will banish every clinging fear. "I see thee, mother, in such happy dreams, I feel thy kiss ui)on my burning brow ; Thy low, sweet cadence, as in olden time. Blesses thy wayward child in visions now. I wake to sorrow, for thou art not here, And coldly falls the stranger's soothing tone; To thy lone child they can not bring a joy, Nor dim the star that o'er my childhood shone." Vain was the yearning of the stricken heart. For never might that mother's voice of love Cheer on Earth, or bless his dying hour, O'er the dark grave its mighty power to prove. And she so mourned for; in her sunny home No shadow comes to hush fair childhood's glee, She knows not of his agony and death, Nor the lone grave beyond the sounding sea. 124 THE ITALIAN BOY. He died — with the dear name upon his lips; He sleeps — where falls the sunshine loved so well, And stranger hand have planted o'er his rest Fair flowers, his early, hapless fate to tell; And though, amid life's last and bitter pang, No mother's face of love to him was near. With Faith's clear eye we see a Father's hand That soothed each grief and calmed each rising fear. THE LAMB OF THE FOLD. I know a fold, a happy fold, Where household lambkins play, Where joyous tones of ohildisii mirth, R^-echo through the djy; Love's smiling heaven above it bends, Mirrored in silver streams. And on its springing verdant turf, With radiant beauty gleams. Within this fold the pattering sound Of little feet are heard. And manv a curl of shinins; hair By spring's soft breeze is stirred; Unshadowed is each fair young brow, Undimmed each flashing eye, And life seems but a happy dream, As its glad hours go by. 126 THE LAMB OF THE FOLD. It is the homo of trusting love, And as the lisping prayer Is murmured from the rosy lip I deem the angels there. No fairer trophy canst thou bear, Oh, thou of shining wing, Thnn the sweet prayer from childhood's lip,- A pure heart's oifering. Lambs, precious I^ambs, I love you all. Far down within my heart I keep eaeh little form enshrined. Of life so fair a part ; I keep the echo of eaeh foot. The pressure of eaeh hand. The murmnrings of eaeh happy heart. Amid that household band. I search my heart oft to know Whose image deepest lies, "Whose winning ways and gentle smiles Seem clothed in loveliest guise. And down, far down amid its depths, I find a blessed name. One that, four happy months ago, A cherub came to claim. THE LAMB OF THE FOIJ). 127 She is all gentleness and love, And o'er her infant face The native purity of Heaven Gleams with its rarest grace, While the soft links of shining hair Rest fondly on a brow. That in the better Land will wear No lovelier look than now. When the baptismal water gleamed Upon her baby brow, With look of love she gazed above, Sealing the murmured vow. As though she held communion sweet With spirits fair and bright. Who left awhile their radiant home To bathe her soul in ligiit. Oh, cherubim and seraphim! Be round her night and day. And from the flowers that deck her path Pluck every thorn away ; Keep her in unstained purity, Our wee lamb of the fold, And o'er her every path of life Your guardian wings unfold. 128 THE LAMB OF THE FOLD. Shepherd of Israel, whose fond hand So oft hath blessings given, Be thine our lamb's, to dwell with thee Amid the fold of Heaven. When life is o'er, by crystal streams, 'Mid pastures green and fair, May each endeared and cherished form An angel's radiance wear. THE OLDEN STRAIN. " How much of memory dwells within each tone.' Why did that olden time-worn .strain So thrill my inmost heart? Why, as each note rang slowly out, Did many a tear-drop start? It was a simple melody, Breathed by each worshipper, Yet with a master hand each chord My spirit's depths could stir. Ah ! with those tones a vision came Of one in rest profound, And by the hush so deep and calm Death had the sleeper crowned ; Placing the signet on those lips — His dark, unchanging seal — Touching the brow and cheek with hues- He only can reveal. 9 130 THE OLDEN STRAIN. It was a child, a coffined child, With little folded hands. Whose spirit had gone guarded home By radiant angel bands ; Pillowed in its unshadowed rest, Was that young sleeper's head, And radiant gleamings o'er that face More fair than life were shed. Those silent lips had parted oft To breathe sweet words for rae, To cheer and bless each passing hour Rang out those notes of glee; When scarce that lisping, untried tongue Could syllable a word. Some gentle, loving, household tone. My happy spirit stirred. That darkened eye shed o'er my life Full many a cheering ray. Grief's darkest hour might from it take The hue of Hope's bright day ; And those dear hands — those pale, cold hands - Brought many a gift of flowers, Entwining round my neck, while I Thanked God that thou wast ours. THE OLDEN STRAIN. 131 And it was thou, beloved one, Whose little life was done; Yea, it was thou, whose angel life I deemed with us begun ; And it was o'er thy coffined form This strain so sadly rose, — A requiem tone of mournful sound Above thy last repose. .' Oh ! this is why that time-worn strain So thrills my inmi>st soul, And why across my spirit's chords Grief's numbers sadly roll ; It ringeth out a saddened chime, For that funereal hour. When to the silence of the grave We gave our household flower. THE DEATH OF 31 OSES. Judea's children gathered near to hear The wonted tones of him who led them^ and They caught with eagerness each spoken word And hid it in their spirit's depths, to gleam Forever there, a gem of fadeless light, Whose lucid rays fond memory enshrined To blend with future brightness, and to form A guiding star o'er life's tempestuous sea. He blessed them all with many a gentle word, And bade them trust God's loving, guarding care; He whose strong arm was ever 'round them all. Whose mighty power whelmed proud Pharoah's host, Bidding His people walk unharmed and free, All were remembered in this parting hour; They on whose head Time's kindly hand had placed A crown of silvery glory, keeping bright With radiance from the better Land; Manhood, with careworn brow and purpose firm ; And hoping youth, whose fearless, sunny eye, THE DEATH OF MOSES. 133 Seemed to reveal from its unbounded depths The wealth of joy that decked his onward way. Farewell ! What bitterness lies in the tone; And as he turned to leave them, lengthened wails Of sorrow floated on the silvery air, For the departure of that step, whose coming Bade the weakest heart grow strong, and called The smile of Hope upon the cheek of Fear. From Moab's plains he went, with fearless heart, Though God had bid him come to Nebo's mount, And there to die — ere that worn footstep woke A joyful echo in fair Canaan's Land, — That Land, whose name as a proud beacon shone. To tjuide him throu<»;h the tany;led wilderness. Aye! God had called him up; and now his form Is lost unto the strained and tearful gaze That lovingly had looked up the ascent, 'Till the last trace in distance far was lost. Onward! still onward ! God waits him there On Pisgah's height. A Father's kindly hand Doth lead him to the brow; and lo ! he sees. Sleeping in ''^uiet loveliness below. The land of promise — land so long desired. Far stretch its valleys; while the rosy light Crowneth with splendor every rising hill, And the green olive and the waving palm 134 THE DEATH OF MOSES. Dot the rich hmdscape with refreshing shade; The streamlet flows in quiet beauty there, Save the faint ripple of its glancing wave ; And the soft shadows on the waving grass Give quiet to the heart and calm repose, So fair to look upon ! His spirit seemed Entranced with rare delight and feeble sense. E'en for a time forgot the higher bliss, So soon to be his own, in the fond wish To tread amid those hills and shaded vales That long had tilled full many a waking thought, And formed the brightness of his happy dreams. For this ho wandered day by day. And counted weariness a thing as naught. Never! Oh never! should his fevered brow Know the soft gales that wandered o'er that land. Never! Oh never! in its radiant light, Amid his brethren, proud and free to stand, He husheth vain regret and vanished hope, And laying off earth's faded pilgrim robe. Unties his sandals, putting down the staff. And as a monarch, entering on his power, With calm benignity he goeth home, — Home! to a clime, oh brighter, fairer far, Than that whose beauty mocked his longing gaze. Alone with God and angels, on the mount ! THE DEATH OF MOSES. 13& And only they may fold those quiet hands, Which from Jehovaii took this wondrous law; They, too,, may press those leaden eyelids down O'er the dim eyes that once had looked upon The great I Am ; and they alone may close In the death silence of the spirit's flight, The pale, cold lips that to the Lord had Spoken ; they may cover up that marble face, — That face which caught from Heaven's own light A gleam of its blest radiance. Mortal eyes, All dimmed with tears and sorrow, may not look Upon it, in its rest, with God and angels! He hath gone up unto that heavenly clime Af^here earthly hopes are lost in full fruition; V/here, beside the throne. Faith folds her snowy wing, And his exultant soul, with onward way, Eoams in an Eden of unclouded bliss. LIXES. Suggested by a visit to St. Luke's Hospital, New York. lu a far city a fair structure stands, Upreared by hearts sweet charity did move, Home for the sick, the friendless and the poor, Where gentle hands perform their deeds of bve. There Avoman's footstep softly glides around, Bearing a soothe balm to many a heart, The cheering smile, the kindly word and tone, Unto the sorrowful a joy impart. I walked amid the rows of snowy beds. Scanning the faces of each suffering one. And there were those whose hours were fading fat, Whose spirits angel bands had almost won. We entered then the consecrated spot. Where smitten childhood lay in patient rest, Where flashed the fevered eye, and the hot breath Came laboring up from many a little breast. LINES. 137 Around the walls some gentle hand had hung Pictures of wondrous beauty, showing each The love for little children Jesus had, — The love his lips so truthfully did teach. Close nestled down uj)on a pure white couch. Reposed a little head, whose dark hrown hair Fell round a face of more than mortal mould. And clung in all its sunny brightness there. The loving eye grew bright with pleasant smiles, As by her side we lingered; and I thought How beautiful that childish brow would look. When Heaven's unfading glory it had caught. Meek, suffering child ! she never more could know The springing footstep; fell disease had bound Upon her moulded limbs its tyrant chain. Clasping each link so firmly all around. Yet there she calmly lay, with blest content Filling her soul with every j)leasant thought, While ministering spirits loved to mark The gentle lesson her young life had taught. 138 LINES. They told us of sweet melodies she sang, Beguiling thus full many a lonely hour, And our inquiring lips asked eagerly To hear those tones of more than earthly power. Softly and sweet ! My soul can ne'er forget How like a dream of loveliness they were. Hovering around my heart-strings with a spell, Hovering around my spirit like a prayer. She sang of Jesus : " He her shepherd was, Leading her gently through the pastures green, And by still waters, while between each ill His strone: rieht arm would ever intervene. " Through the dark valley she would fear no ill ; He would be near her, when her pilgrim feet Should tread where clinging shadows darkly throng. And make her triumph over death complete." Again she sang : and now another voice, So faint, and low, and sad, chimed gently in, And gazing round, a childish face we saw With pallid brow, and spiritually thin. LINES. 139 Only two summers had this sufferer known, And his young head was waiting for its crown ; The limbs so shrunken, and the death-like cheek, Spoke of the agony and woe his own. And yet he sang, and smiled a patient smile; Our hearts were tiirilled, and we had eyes of tears, For ah ! we knew the hopelessness that clung, Like fatal blight, upon his childish years. Thanks ! thanks ! unnumbered thanks to those whose steps, , With Charity's sweet ministry doth go, To soothe the sufferer's pillow, to make glad The lonely heart, that no delight doth know. Yea, countless thanks from earth, and when they rise To the high glories of the upper world, .How jeweled will their crown of brightness be. How broad love's banner o'er their souls unfurled. THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. " It was a child, a coffined child, With Utile folded hnnds, Whose spirit had gone guarded home. By. radiant angel bands." I sat alone : and busy, thronging thoughts, Enveloped wnth its spell my secret soul, Weaving a fobric that did brightly blend The warp of life with an ideal roof, Revealing in its beauty fairy hues Whose tints gained fresher glory every hour. Busy, thronging thought ! that wandered down To find the key-note of my musing soul, And then did touch the chords deep hidden there With master hand, until the notes awoke To blessed strains that, lingering round my life. Form one grand diapason, such as ne'er Fell thrillingly upon a mortal's ear. It seems an echo of the breathings heard In Eden bowers, amid primeval bliss — A bright foreshadowing of that angel clime Where love knows no decay. THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. 141 Sadly and slow The measured movement of* a funeral train Broke in upon my silence, and a hearse Passed gloomily and slow before my gaze — A dark, sad hearse, whose waving, sombre folds Draped heavily around some sleeper's rest. Questioning, I looked to see what form, Coffined for burial, lay silent there. Was it the weary one of lengthened years, Who long had waited for death's kindly hand To open Heaven's bright portals? Was it man. With many a hoping scheme and plotting plan, Ready to grasp ambition's tempting prize To his lurid heart, to find it vanity? Was it youth's glorious eye, forever sealed, Its voice of melody forever hushed? Had one, whose path was strewn with buds and flowers, Turned from their glowing beauty but to die? No! None of these slept 'neath that coffin's lid. It was a child whose happy feet had tripped Amid the flowers of three bright summers. Hearing Forever 'round its way the angels' hymn. And wooed at last by so divine a strain. To that blest world whose minstrelsy it is. The shining curls in their rich beauty lay 142 THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. Around that placid brow so chill and fair, And the long lashes rested on the cheek With such a loving pressure, one might think 'Twas childhood's rosy sleep in happy dreams. The parted lips looked as it' pleasant thoughts Would give them childish utterance — but, alas! For bleeding love there came no little word. From prattling — its murmurs were all done, Leaving but memories of their music tone. That echoed as in mockery of deep grief. The dimpled hand was folded, quiet now. Clasping Love's last sad gift of purest flowers ; And the still feet ! once pattering, restless feet, Peeped sadly from their rest in coffin bed. Little white coffin ! in thy close embrace Thou keep'st a radiant gem, whose flashing light Was home's own sunshine. Now, the darkened hearth Mourns its evanished brightness, and fond hearts Bewail the missing melody it breathed. Thrice happy child! thy spirit may not know Life's broken hopes, its sad and weary hours. Laid to thy rest, earth's angel ! but to be A brighter angel on yon radiant shore. On thy pure brow Time's finger may not trace His days and moments with their passing care. Sealed in thy beauty for the courts of Heaven, Expanding 'mid its elements divine. THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. 143 Thrice happy child ! whose little feet have crossed O'er the dark waters of that mystic stream ; If here thy hours on golden pinions fled, And life encompassed thee with glowing light, What must it be amid that home of glory, Where not a cloud floats in its vast expanse. Where angel pinions flash their starry splendor Beneath the glances of our Father's eye ; Where countless thousands strike their golden harps, Wandering, enraptured, by Life's crystal stream. Oh, quiet sleeper! in Death's calm repose, What must thy young life's added glory be? THE FADING YEAR. Pilgrim ! with sandal'd feet and failing step, Thou 'rt passing from Time's measured shore away. With brow so furrowed and eheek so wan, That wears the ashen hue of dull decay. The sad and sombre livery of Death Doth fold about thee with enshrouding gloom ; Death ! whose sole birthright is a waiting grave — Whose only welcome is a voiceless tomb. Wearied and worn ! through every lengthened street Thou tak'st thy onward way, with vigor gone; The light hath fled from out thy flashing eye, The seal of silence steals thy lips upon ; The budding hopes that crowned thy natal hour AVith their pure freshness, 'round thee withered lie. And thy dim vision doth in vain essay To find their brightness in life's sombre skv. THE FADING YEAR. 145 Thy spring-time beauty, when the violet's eye Looked in its quiet loveliness on earth; When the glad voice of rivulet and stream Breatlied, in its rippling melody and mirth, The brightness of thy summer's golden hours, Crowned with a starry radiance from on high, Have gone before thee ; and the angel truths Spread o'er the vale and hill, bloomed but to die. Yet, fading year, thou 'rt passing to a land Where Love's calm breeze will fan thy careworn brow; The land of memory whose fadeless light And shining stars look calmly, purely down. Glad spring comes there to meet thy step again, And summer flings its radiance 'round thy way; The gorgeous glory of the autumn time Shines not amid its beauty — dull decay. All the rich jewels Hope garners up. She bears with faltering step to that fair land, And their pure light will beam around thy way ; Thy spirit shall each sunny ray command. Love stores its treasures there — each look and tone Gain a new glory, while aifection's eye Takes there a softer light, and each fond word From lips beloved wins immortality. w 146 THE FjiDING YEAR. Love wanders there, the victor over Death, Wresting the sleeper from the darksome tomb, He stands a conqueror in that peaceful clime ^ — Triumphant over loneliness and gloom. Lips, where have rested Death's fast closing seal, Murmur again their holy faith and trust. And radiant with the spirit's fadeless light. Are eyes that sleep beneath the mouldering dust. Pale year! tliy hand in coffin-bed hath hid The waving curls of many a shining head; Thou hast borne down full many a brow too pale — Full many a darkening pall thy hand hath spread. Quenched the glad light of many a kindred eye Whose starry gleams, kept by an angel's hand, Were gathered to eternal life on high — We meet them all in memory's changeless land. Rich, rich, the spirit's treasures thou dost bear — Sweet thoughts to lay upon a sacred shrine, Whera the fond heart its hoarded wealth will store. Where love doth purely glow — a spark divine. No dimning cloud shall mar the radiant light, xlnd angel hands shall roll back Lethe's wave ; For o'er the glory of each cherished gem Its dark, cold waters have no power to lave. THE FADING YEAR. 147 5^ JjC ?j> JJC ^ ?ji ^ ^ ^ Departing year! even as a gallant ship, Which bears afar the loving from our side, Freighted with untold wealth for distant port, We gaze upon the waters wide. Thy course is onward — from the shores of Time Out on the sea of broad Infinity, Unto the shores eternal, where doth wait A harbored fleet of vanished years for thee. A mighty hand thy moorings soon will loose — We wait the signal from the Throne on high. And countless numbers as thou glid'st away Will look upon thee with a tearful eye; The wave shall not o'erwhelm thee, nor the winds Wreck with wild fury — for the form of light Which at thy prow in majesty doth stand. Hath power to hush the billow's fiercest might. Farewell! farewell! Old Year, we meet again; Thy moments all will come in mute array ; Thy fleeting months shall bring their record, too — The golden circlet of each passing day. Oh, Thou ! enthroned in radiance above, Who looks on erring man with mercy's eye, From each remembrance blot every trace Of the unfaithfulness thou dost descry. 148 THE FADING YEAR. Forgive the love that in its fondness clings So closely to the changing things of earth; Untwine the heartstrings, that with mighty strength Gather o'er hopes but mortal in their birth. Teach us to live, that in each passing year That fleets so surely on, we may enshrine Full many a deed of holiest duty done — Full many a trace of love that marks us — Thine. THE INFIDEUS DAUGHTER. Dying! ah no, it could not be, His young and beauteous child Mjist not go down to death's embrace — His brain with grief was wild; To loose the murmurs of that voice, The love-light of that eye, To miss that glad and bounding step — Oh, no ! she must not die. He took her hand within his own, He smoothed her sunny hair, He looked upon that pure young brow, And saw Death coming there; And dark despair, with iron grasp. Clenched fast his stricken heart — That heart which in the holy trust Of Heaven had borne no part. 150 THE INFIDEUS DAUGHTER. He wandered back o'er all the paths The well-beloved trod, He thouojht upon her mother's voice, All hushed beneath the sod. Upon her words of sad reproof. Breathed lovingly and mild ; Upon the little, pleading prayer She taught her gentle child, And came the memory — that his lips Had curled in bitter scorn, Whene'er unto the throne of Heaven That childish prayer was borne; The bitter memory of a time With anguish traces fraught. When the denial of the faith To her young lips were taught. She speaks : Oh ! how his eager soul Thirsts for each uttered Avord; Faint, faint, and stamped with agony, Each spoken thought was heard. Oh, Death ! roll back with mighty power Thy dark o'erwhelming wave, That he may win some cherished word From thee, thou waiting grave. THE INFIDELS DAUGHTER. 151 "My Father, life is failing fast, My words come faint and slow, Death bears nie o'er the waters dark, Oh ! tell nie, e'er 1 go, Whose faith and trust shall now be mine Throughout the shaded vale? Whose shadows gather ■'round my path, My spirit to assail ? "My Mother taught my youthful lips The fervent, earnest prayer, To God, who dwells enthroned on high, For his protecting care ; She told me of a Savior's love, A Lord exalted high, Who, Prince and Mediator, lives Far, far beyond the sky. "And many a time, dear Father, too. With tears, on bended knee. She prayed that He would touch thy heart With power and purity. And bring thee safely home to Heaven, Where thy enraj)tured soul Should join the seraph song of love. While endless ages roll. 152 THE INFIDEL'S DAUGHTER. " Oh ! tell me Father, e'er I go To slumber in the dust, Whose faith my soul shall lean upon, Whose God shall be my trust?" Then, 'mid the tears that fell like rain, Her passing spirit heard : Oh ! blest in Death, each welcome tone, Like balm, each precious word. My child, take thou thy mother's faith, 'T will bless thee in thy need; My wild and vain imaginings Are but a broken reed. Take thou thy mother's God : His arm Shall shield thee through the vale; Take thou thy mother's God : His arm Shall over death prevail. "And when in yonder angel world. Thou standest side by side. With thy sweet Mother, plead with Him My lips have oft denied. That I may henceforth tread on earth The path thy mother trod. That her pure faith may be my guide. Her God and thine — my God." OUR DARLING, What shall we do when the Spring-time is here, Missing our darling, so cherished and dear? What shall we do as its breezes float by, Wanting the light of that calm azure eye? Shall we bend, all tearful^ above his home. With the voice of mourning and sadness come? Oh, no ! oh, no ! we will look on high, Where in untold glories his hours pass by. What shall we do when the summer, so bright, Brighteneth the valley and hill with its light? W^hat shall we do when all nature shall wear Her robes of beauty, her coronal fair, And we see no trace of his childish head? Shall we think of our darling as with the dead? Oh, no! oh, no! — as one passed away From a clouded dawn to eternal day. 154 OUR DARLING. What shall we do in the rich autumn time, When the voices of earth shall in unison chime, When we hear not the shout and the echoing call Of him who was fairest and brightest of all ? Shall our hearts grow sad and our eyes grow dim, Tearful ever at memory of him? Oh, no ! oh, no ! we will ever look up, Thankful his lips may not press life's dark cup. What shall we do when the winter hours come. And we hear not his gladness 'round hearth and home? When we think of his joy that once floated out In the winter hours, and his gleeful shout Over the snowy and ice-bound street, The tireless bound of those little feet? Shall we mourn that so quiet they now do rest — Those boyish feet — on the earth's green breast? Never ! oh, never ! for do they not roam In their new-found joy in a fairer home ? Walking in beauty, where Life's glad stream Enshrineth the brightness of Heaven's own beam ? Never ! oh, never ! how blessed to go. Though the voice be hushed and the head lie low. It were brighter joy than our world can give, 'Neath the radiant smile of the Lord to live. ABSENT. Morning comes with rosy light, — Sunlight streameth fair and bright,- Lit'ting up the hillside fair, Kissing flow'rets scattered there. Stealing o'er the lowly vale — Seeking out the woody dale — Vainly morning comes to me, One I love I do not see. Evening comes with shining stars, Not a cloud yon heaven mars ; Day, with babbling voice, is still — Quiet rests on vale and hill. Moonlight falls around my wav, O'er the stream its mild rays play; Vain the charms of eve to me. One I love I do not see. 156 ABSENT. Voices of unshadowed glee Echo forth so merrily, Wondering that the clouds of care, Hang around a path so fair. Music brings her treasured tone, Melodies my soul hath known ; What is mirth and minstrelsy? One I love I do not see. Speed ye hours on wings of light, Realizing hopes so bright ; Bring again the welcome feet, O'er the busy, bustling street. Bring the lips, and cheek, and brow, Memory loves to think of now; Bring them back again to me. One I love I then shall see. FORGIVENESS. " Be to thy bitterest foe like the sissoo tree, which perfumes with its odors the axe which brings it level to the ground."— Persian Proverb. Perchance, oh, man ! ^hy brotlier's heart Keeps bitter thou<^hts of thee, And treasures up no kindly deed, — No pleasant memory. Forgive him every unjust thought, His spirit's depths hath moved; Forgive him all, and let thy truth In acts of love be j)roved. Perchance, for thee, thy brother's lip Breathes never tenderness, — Let gentle words from thine be known, Whose utterance will bless. Their echoes shall, like music tones. Encircle round thy life, — A sunlight in earth's darkened way — Calm peace amid its strife. 158 FORGIVEXESS. Thy brother's eye may turn away. And look not on thy path, — Its radiance gi^ne, — its kindling flash, Proclaim the tempest's wrath. Oh I look not thou upon him thus. But let thine eyes' mild light Dispel the gleam of vengeful ire — The darkness of its night. Uplifted, too. may be his hand, To foil with crushing force. Oh ! fold thine own — in calm resolve High manhood's fearless course ; And seek to do some kindly deed, Some happiness to bring Around thy brother's life — thy heart's- Heaven's prompting offering. So shall thy days glide calmly on. Each bearing up to Heaven Some trace of noble duty done — Some bitter wrong forgiven. And these shall win for thee a rest On yonder peaceful shore, Where anger's tossing, surging wave, Shall vex thy soul no more. FORGIVENESS. 159 Walk in His steps, whose gentle lips No erring man reviled ; — A God, who trod in earthly paths, So pure and undefiled; And whispered to the rising wave Of anger, — " Peace, be still !" Crowning thy brother's life with good, Who wishes thee but ill. LOVE'S WEALTH. " Nothing is trifling that Love consecrates." Thy pictured semblance — what a joy is mine, Fondly each cherished lineament to trace; To mark, with love, that look almost divine That rests with such a glory on thy face ! And as I gaze delighted, from those eyes Comes back an answering lovelight to mine own, While those red lips, on which proud beauty lies, Seem sweetly breathing thy familiar tone. This shining tress of hair on which I gaze Full oft, hath gleamed above thy glorious brow- From out its folds a voice of blissful days Steals — lingering around my spirit now. Oh ! many a precious hope is with it twined. And many a charm by blessed memory wove ; While 'mid its silken threads is fondly shrined A changeless trust — a holy, deathless love. LOVE'S WEALTH. KM This faded flower — 'twas culled by thine own hand — I mind me how its fragrance 'round me fell, So exquisite, I thought some fairy hand Was hovering o'er us with a cloudlike spell. I cannot lose the memory of a word That lingered on thy lips in that blest hour ; Full many a tender thought of thee is stirred, As now I look upon this treasured flower. This book was thine — I trace thy blessed name Inscribed by thy dear hand — of thee a part; The proudest wealth within the gift of fame Could wake no deeper thrill within my heart. Each tiny character a bright link seems, United all, they form a golden chain That binds within my heart its own bright dreams,. And I as gladly live them o'er again. Love's wealth, to the fond heart more precious far Than gems which sparkle in Golconda's mine, Or glow on beauty's brow like evening's star, Adding a glory to w'hat seems divine. A holy charm is 'round them — talismen they seem — Semblance, and curl, thy name, and faded flower; Thus ever shall their radiance o'er me gleam. Brighten and bless my path till Life's last hour. Cadiz, Ohio. 1849. 11 REPLY TO THE ''THREE GIFTS." Inscribed to my father. " The gift of Genius." I claim it not, With destiny dark, and sad, sad lot; Yet would that I, with its magic power. To Fame's proud eminence might tower. I would place my name on its records bright, To beam for aye with unclianging light. " The gift of Beauty." Say not 'tis mine, With its own brilliancy to shine. What is it? The eye is glad and bright, But Death can dim it in darkest night. What is it? The check may wear youth's bloom, But 'twill pale in the lone, unconscious tomb. " The gift of Goodness." Oh, radiant gem ! That glows in Heaven's own diadeni, — Clear and lustrous it, beams afar, With holy rays on Earth's wanderer. Be mine that bourne — to us be given, Goodness on Earth and bliss in Heaven. Cadiz, is it.. MY OHIO HOME. Inscribed to Mr. and Mrs. John A. Bingham. I sit in the twilight hushed and dim, And around me memories come Of the parted smile and the gentle words That brightened my happv home. I think of the many shining links, Perfecting Love's golden chain, And I sigh to think that long future years Will not see them all again. My own loved home ! dost thou wear the look Which was thine in days gone by? Bright were the hours within thy walls, — Fleetly they flitted by. Home's angel floated about its hearth. And with folded, happy wing, Diffused a presence of love, which made Life seem such a blessed thing. 164 MY OHIO HOME. Thou seemest to me a thing of life, As a friend full well beloved, Whose. faith and love, through each vanished year, To my trusting heart was proved. And I think that thou hast a loving heart, — That over thy musing soul, The memory of happy, by-gone houfs. Sadly and silently roll. I cannot forget thee — enshrined for aye. In each tree, and shrub, and flower. Which waved and bloomed in that charmed spot In the long, bright summer's hour. I cannot forget each glancing smile. Which round thee like sunlight fell. Nor the wonted tones which greeted mine ear With their trusted and holy spell. Happy and blest be that household band, Which clusters around thy hearth, — Home's sweetest melodies echo for them Tones of immortal birth. Lingering around their paths on earth. To Life's last hour be they given, . Made holier far, as they float above. To God's own, their native Heaven. HENRY CLAY. "Thero is no death to such as thou, neither darlcnesa nor the shadow of Death: only such a bright fading as when the morning star fades in the golden dawn." A nation stands with tearful eyes and dim, Watching thy parting glories — lost to Earth! Listening, perchance, to hear the angels' hymn Triumphant as thou gained immortal birth. For well we deem our darkened earth hath given A radiance, which doth flood those portals fair, — A stream of brightness beams from yonder Heaven ; We gaze with awe and rapture — thou art there. Thine is no victory, O Death ! though on that brow The hush and stillness of that realm is set. No conquest thine, — although we listen now For silver tones we never can forget. It is not death to live in bliss above, — To wear a starry crown on that bright shore^ — To tune a golden liarp to songs of love, — To know of care, and toil, and grief, no more. 166 HENRY CLAY. Oh! it is boundless never-ending life; All, all untold its inner glories are, — And in this chilling, dreary world of strife, Its peaceful rays beam on us from afar, — Soothing the soul when sorrows round us come, — A guiding star as o'er Life's sea we rove. Those beams like golden links have drawn thee home, Calling thee up to endless life and love. Thy name shall live forever — Henry Clay ! Its very sound bespeaks immortal birth ; Ages unheeded shall have passed away, Yet still its radiance shall illume the earth. Fond hearts and true will come in future years To look upon thy grave — a holy shrine; And they will hush their sorrows and their tears As 'round their paths its sacred light shall shine. "Tomb of the mighty dead" — 'tis hallowed ground, AVhere they have gently laid thee down to rest, — Sacred forever be the grassy mound, Rising above thy calm and pulseless breast. Pillowed in glory ! risen in glory too ! Thy home not there, — thy robes so white and fair, Not neath the coffin's lid they meet my view, In Heaven, I see them there, I see them there ! Peoria, July, 1S52. THE EVENING BEFORE MARRIAGE. My own sweet child, <;ome sit thee by my side — Thy wonted place in many an hour gone by ; Come, while Remembrance jxmrs her deatiiU ss tide, Whose living power will Time and Change dcty. And as I gaze into those undimmed eyes, Marking no shadow on that youthful bi-ow. I pray "Our Father" that for thee there lies A path as thornless as thou treadest now. And now I fancy thee a child once more, Coming to meet me with step light and Ire \ And in mine ear respondeth o'er and o'er The happy echo of thine artless glee. Ever unshadowed seemed thy young, bright life, — Love kept sweet watch and ward o'er thee, my child, Shielding thee from the world's unceasing strife, Pointing to Him, the pure and undefikd. \ 168 THE EVENING BEFORE MARRIAGE. I mind me, too, how ever at my knee Thou cam'st at eve to breath thy childhood's prayer, And how thy young lip glowed with fervency When asking God for His protecting care. Oh, seek Him still ! thy Guardian and Guide ; Remember Him amid each happy hour, — His arms will shelter, and His love provide A refuge when dark clouds of sorrow lower. A double vision fondly greets mine eye. As I invoke thy childhood's laughing hours, — Thine own sweet sister, on whose brow doth lie The placid sweetness born of Heaven's own power. My cherished child ! it is a joy to trace Those happy hours when by my side she grew ; Thrice blest is she — amid Life's every place. She dwells enshrined in loving hearts and true. To-morrow, love, and these young lips will breathe The deathless vow which never may be broken ; By the glad hopes that 'round thee brightly wreath, And present bliss, 1 know it fondly spoken. A noble heart hath showered its love on thee ; Green be your paths through Life's descending vale, A manly arm thy shield and stiy shall be. Amid Life's cares, which every path assail. THE EVENING BEFORE MARRIAGE. 169 Our household love, — let it remembered be, Oh ! bind its memory in thy happy soul ; Strong be the spell — an amulet for thee, As days and years o'er that young head shall roll. In the dim future may each vanished hour Speak to thy heart — to comfort and to bless; Shedding around thy path a soothing power, To sweetly blend with Life's rich harmonies. Mine is no gift, my child, of fairy power — Gilding thy life wth visions strangely bright ; I only ask for thee, that every hour May take its radiance from the unstained light Which sheds its glory 'round our Father's throne, — And that when Life, with light and shade, is o'er, In that blest clime of love, thou and thine own May dwell with angels on an Eden shore. LINES. Writien upon receiving the picture of a child. Inscribed to Mrs. 1''. D. Hardin. Little Robbie Hardin ! Pure and sweet thy face, Shrined amid the ringlets Of enehantiug grace ; Winsome is thy beauty, Fair thy brow and cheek, And the lips — that many Quaint and strange things speak. Oh, the cunning gleaming Of the darling's eye! Hiding stores of wisdom In its witchery. What has it to tell me? For it seems to me. In its depths are hidden Some sweet mystery. LINES. 171 Little Robbie Hardin ! . Would that I might call Blessings on the beauty Which enraptures all. Brightness should o'orshadow, Flowers be strewn for thee, — And amid life's future, Light thy burdens be. God will keep thee safely, In tliy earthly ways; He will weave the sunshine Through thy coming days. He will guide thy footsteps, — He will hold thy hand, Safe and angel-guarded 'r/iou — at His command. Little Robbie Hardin ! I shall keep thee here. Shrined amid my treasures. With the fair and dear. AVhile mine eyes shall look on Earthly life and grace, They shall seek the beauty Of thy sweet, young face. RUTH TO NAOMI. "Strong affection Contends mth all things and overporaeih All things. As our hearts, our way is one, And may not be divided." I can not leave thee — well beloved ! Hath not dark days affection proved ? The memories clustering 'round my heart Appeal that we may never part. My arms around thy neck are twined, There shall my head its refuge find, For my pale lips would never tell To thee that sorrowing word — Farewell. Afar from thee ! the gentle Spring No gladness to my heart will bring, — Vainly the summer hours may wear A golden crown of radiance rare. Unheeded would the gorgeous dyes Of Autumn tower unto the skies. And nature only breathe for me A sad and mournful melody. RUTH TO NAOMI. 173 I can not leave thee. I will go To share thy gladness and thy woe, — To Moab's land I turn not back, But keep with thee the pilgrim's track ; — And gleaming on our path afar, I see the light of Bethlehem's star ; Nor shall we faltering footsteps know As, angel-guarded, on we go. I will go with thee. 'Neath the skies That o'er Judea's plains arise, Our song of praise shall rise on high, And our Deliverer magnify. Where e'er thou dwellest I will dwell, The faith and trust of life to tell ; Thy people shall be mine — yea, more, Thv God alone will I adore. When thou art old, and each dear tone, With changing years has feeble grown. My hand shall soothe thee — warding still From thy loved form each earthly ill. My lips shall tell thee of that clime. The aim of Hope and Faith sublime. And point thy gently closing eye To deathless homes beyond the sky. 174 RUTH TO NAOMI. And sweet shall be thy quiet rest, With folded hands above thy breast; As gently o'er thy placid brow I smoothe thy hair as often now With eyes of tears. My last fond look, Enclasped in memory's golden book Shall be, when 'neath the coffin's lid Thy cherished form, beloved, is hid. And there beside thee I will sleep — There will I spirit vigils keep, AVhen the winged shadow sweepeth by, And earth is closed to my sealed eye. Not served in this fleeting life — Not parted in death's bitter strife; For love is mightier far than he, — It claims an immortality. Entreat me not ! I could not brook From thy dear eyes a parting look ; I would not hear that wonted tone Take that of sorrow, oh, mine own! My place is here, at thy right hand My planted footsteps firmly stand; Nor life, nor death, may ever know The ebbing of affection's flow. THE SHUN AMITE' 8 REPLY. " I dwell among mine own people." " Wouldst thou dwell in palace fair, Where doth float the perfumed air, Where glad music tones is heard, Rivaling the woodland bird? There the day goes fleeting i)y, . 'Neath the bright and azure sky ; Eve calls forth the flashing light, Shedding radiance o'er the night." "No! ah, no! a palace home Cannot tempt my feet to roam ; In my humble home, yet fair. Fragrant breathings fill the air. Nature's untaught minstrelsy Pour their sweetest strains for me; While the evening's sentinel, Tales of higher glory tell." 176 THE SHUN AMITE'S REPLY. " Wouldst thou rove by rippling streams With a voice like poets' dreams — Listening to the fountain's flow, Falling musical and low? Fairy flowers would deck thy way, Waking beauty day by day ; Foreign climes their odors sweet Shed around thy happy feet." " Unchecked streamlets near me flow, Sunlit flashings o'er them go, And my heart leaps high and free. As they sing so merrily. Round my path the violet comes. In its heart the wild bee hums: O'er the hill, and o'er the lea, Anffel voices come to me." "In the proudest niche of Fame, Wouldst thou gladly place thy name. There to beam with living power Through the long and future hour? Wouldst thou twine around thy brow Glory's luring radiant glow? Of its goblets wouldst thou sip, Leaving ashes on the lip ? " THE SHVN AMITE'S REPLY. 177 "Fame's proud laurels tempt me not To forego my happy lot ; — Many a heart they rest upon, Mourns its light and life all gone. Glory's guerdon never gave Power from earthly ills to save;— Ne'er dispelled death's gathering mist, Nor to life the sealed eye kissed." "Hast thou wish for gleaming gold, Hoarded heaps and wealth untold ? Will it to thee blessings bring, Or a seared heart's oiFering? Tell me, for the power is mine. Given by a Hand Divine, — What fond wish hath often stole Quietly o'er thy pure soul ?" 12 " Not a wish for stores of gold Comes from out my spirit's fold ;— Countless were the offering, Hopes of Heaven it could not bring; Keep me from the fatal snare. Luring on with light so fair; Keep me from the palsied heart. Of those shining heaps a part." 178 THE SHUN AMITE S REPLY. " Life to ni(> glides gently by, Resting 'neatli love's summer sky,— Here my heart hath placid rest, I am happy, riehly blest. 'Neath the vine and 'neath the tree Roam I ever happily ; — In my Fatherland I dwell, With mine own, who love me well. LINES. Upon the departure of friends for Palestine. O'er ocean's dej)th.s the well-beloved Seek for Jiulea's land, 'Neath the tall, waving olive tree, In joyfulness to stand. Where the blue skies bend lovingly O'er that thrice .sa(!red sjiot, Where Bethlehem's Babe took up life's march, And bore each pilgrim's lot. By Jordan's stream their feet will stand On that enchanted shore, Their spirits filled with joy and awe Shall worship and adore. Remembering Him — the Undefiled, — Who stood acknowledged there. While the baptismal waters gleamed Amid His golden hair. 180 LINES. To thy deep shade, Gethseraane, With sadness they will go ; — The spot that knew His agony, His crushing weight of woe. Where angel forms in that dark hour Came with sweet minist'rings. And from the very throne of Heaven Bore comfort on her wings. And they who stand on Calvary — Yet not, dear Lord, as Thou, Bleeding and worn with earth's dark cross, Its anguish on Thy brow ; That weight of untold agony That pressed His spirit down, Hath placed upon man's fallen brow A seraph's radiant crown. SUB HUSSION. " What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." Wliy God hath hushed in life's glad dawn his merry, prat- tling voice, Whose echoes were but music tones that made the heart rejoice ; Why He hath stilled that rosy iip of pleasant melody, Our clouded vision, dim with tears, so plainly strives to see. Why hath He laid in quiet rest those boyish, bounding feet, That roamed amid their happiness o'er home, and hall, and street, — That blest our threshold with their fall, and pattering in their glee, — Our clouded vision, dim with tears, all vainly strives to see. 182 SUBMISSION. Why He should call the graceful form our spirits loved so well, Within the lone, unanswering grave, all silently to dwell, And fold sweet childhood's robes away beneath the valley's clod. We know not, yet would meekly bow before the chastening rod. We know it was love's lesson, for a Father's watchful eye. That looketh on life's morning, and its coming doth descry, Saw conflicts stern awaiting him, and fierce, contentious foes, That would throng around his pathway e'er he should know its close. In love He turned those little feet so quietly away. To tread no more life's battle-field amid its fearful fray; He folded up the glancing sword within that soft, white hand, That he might never yield it to a foeman's stern command. Untarnished by a conflict was his glittering lance and spear, — Sure helmet never rested on a brow more fair and dear; He laid them all aside to wear the angel's crown of gold. And walketh in their shining ranks a lamb in Heaven's fold. SUBMISSION. 183 A Father's hand hath done it; and when no longer li^ The shadow of his little grave upon our tearful eyes, Our lips shall call Him merciful, although grief secmeth now To sever many a heart-string — the spirit crushed to bow. Justice and Mercy linger near the radiance of His throne, The gentle ministry of love our Father's heart hath known ; Its effluence doth ever mark the little sparrow's fall — Its high and vast omnipotence is ever over all. Not willingly His guardian hand doth bid the tear-drops flow, Nor call our throbbing, human heart earth's bitterness to know ; He soothes the mourning spirit with a voice of holy calm, And sheds above its bleeding wounds a precious, healing balm. And we will trust Him as we tread life's every onward way, — We will look up with faith undimmed, yea, even though He slay — Relying on His watchful love; strong in His kingly might, Whate'er our loving Father does, He ever doeth right. 184 SUBMISSION. And when we stand in joyfulness upon the eternal shore, Where wonted smiles lose not their light, — where Death comes nevermore ; Our spirits shall be crowned with love that wipes away all tears, Amid the fadeless splendor of the never-ending years. Then we will know why God hath called so early our fair child, Whose brow was wreathed with loveliness, whose lips each hour beguiled ; Then will we know the untold bliss of those in childhood's hours, Who go in undimmed beauty to dwell in Eden bowers. REUNION Of the Seventeonth Regiinciit, Illinois Volunteer Infantry, at Peoria, Oct. 21, 1868. Fair Illinois, with sunshine crowned, Dwelt with a sisterhood of States, All with one jeweled circlet bound. And strength, that Union's power creates. Her household fires glowed bright and clear When toil at eventide was done, And weary footsteps gathered near To homes, that made the many — one Peace, like a spirit, brooded o'er Her valleys and unconquered hills; O'er fields that gathered golden store ; O'er singing streams and flowing rills. Its white wings Heaven's own impress bore. Sweeping through sunlight's radiant glow, While the calm stars its beauty wore — Such beauty as the angels know. 186 REUNION. Thus dwelt our peerless Illinois, Enshrined amid her prairies green, Where flowerets bloomed in r.uiet joy, And crowned her as glad Nature's queen ; When, with affright, her startled ear Heard pealing harshly from afar. Discordant notes, which, drawing near. Revealed tiie clarion peal of war. Then o'er the hillside and the vale. Rang out the patriot's thrilling cry, — " Our country's foes, its life assails ! To arms! to arms! to win or die." Brave, loyal hearts, grew stronger then. And good right hands were raised on high. While the firm lips of earnest men Vowed their life's blood for liberty. And far and near throughout the land Was heard the tramp of marching feet, — Each soul aglow with purpose grand The proud defiant foe to meet ; And, guided by the Almighty hand, — By love, forever good and wise, — Each patriot and 'united band Rose, like a fortress, to the skies. REUNION. 187 Brave regiments went one by one, And bore aloft with deathless might, The fairest flag that e'er the sun Illumed with glorious light: Our own "red, white and blue" that sweeps O'er Northern lakes and Southern streams; That still its undimmed lustre keeps, While every star in beauty gleams. Then came, with many a banner bright, And bayonet of flashing steel — With eyes that shone with proudest light, Their heart's devotion to reveal — Our noble " Seventeenth," the pride And glory of a grateful land; Each consecrated and sanctified, A fearless and devoted band. Although beloved lips grew pale, With keenest misery and pain ; Though love poured forth its bitter wail From forms it might not sec again ; Though sobbing farewells thronged their way, And kindred hands clung to their own, And never, never had life's* day Such bitteruess and anguish known ; 188 REUNION. Yet on they pressed, the brave, the true, Firmly resolved "to do or die;" No coward fear their footsteps knew, As on they marched to victory. Led by the gallant Ross, who wore A hero's sword, a patriot's heart. Their country's flag they proudly bore. To take, in its stern woes, their part. And many a battle-field shall keep Bright records of their noble deeds; Though fond remembrance there may weep. And memory's heart with anguish bleeds. Firmly they stood at " Fredericktown," Nor quailed they at "Fort Donaldson;" 'Mid flame, and smoke, and rebel frown, They fiercely fought, — they proudly won. At " Shiloh," where the thick shot fell Like rain around their onward path, And cannon thundered out to tell How terrible their voice of wrath ; They stood like adamant — each heart Unterrified and undismayed; Nobly and well they bore their part, — Fearless and grand the charge they made. REUNION. 189 At "Corinth," with unfaltering feet, They marched to combat with the foe ; "Inka" fails not to repeat The gallant deeds their record show ; "Lake Providence" keeps many a trace Of manly, fearless, daring, too; "Black River" gives them lofty place, Amid the loyal and the true. And high upon the roll of Fame Shall stand enshrined in fadeless light, The glowing signet of each name Tiiat bore a part in " Vicksburg's " fight; Memorials of unshrinking feet That stood where hostile armies wheeled. Until with triumph, all complete, They went victorious from the field. A voice from " Jackson/' clear and high, Rehearses many a manly deed, — Repeating many a memory Of valor in our country's need. " Monroe " hath grateful words to tell Of heroes, and the part they bore, When dead and dying 'round them fell, 'Mid shot, and shell, and booming roar. 190 REUNION. Thus did they fight — that valiant band, Holding their starry banner high, — No foe their prowess could withstand ! No fame such worth can dignify ! Earth claims no truer, nobler son, Than he who wrests from Freedom's foes The deadly weapons, one by one, Which they to her own life oppose. Here, to this olden camping ground. Once more the " Seventeenth" have come, By links of friendship firmly bound ; They leave again the hearth and home, Not for the crimson battle-field ; Not for war's tumult and alarm ; Their country's voice hath not appealed For aid, — rebellion to disarm. But to recount each danger hour, — To speak of many a battle won, — With memory's sweet and tender power To tell of comrades loved, yet gone. To vow anew their lives — their all ; To root disunion's treason out; To keep bright armor for the call. Insidious, traitor foes to rout. REUNION. vn God bless each manly heart that made His country's honor all his own ! God bless each hand whose shining blade Was to the enemy made known ! God guide and strengthen faithful feet That walked in danger's paths and blood ; Who stand in conquering light complete, — A nation's glorious brotherhood! And for the bravo and true who sleep '' The sleep that knows no waking hour," Affections holiest thoughts we keep, That linger with a changeless power. For home and country well they fought; For home and country proudly fell ; Amid life's paths can there be aught More glorious of man to tell ? Sleep they in home and native land ; Sleep they by shore or murmuring stream; In graves "by Southern breezes fanned," Or, by tlic sunset's fading gleam ; Where'er it be — unsullied wings Are folded gently o'er their rest, And liberty, all tearful, brings Her offerings for each patriot's breast. 192 REUNION. The soldier's grave ! oh, let it be A place where holiest thoughts awake, — Where living lips breathe fervently A firmer faith for their dear sake; Where freemen's hands more strongly grasp The standard of their glorious land. And vow that their fast clinging clasp Shall not be loosed but by death's hand. Hushed is the hostile cannon's roar ! The clang and clash of battle steel — And o'er hill and vale no more Rings out war's shrilly clarion peal ; A glorious hymn ascends to Heaven, A cheerful anthem loud and high, — Immortal chords to thee are given, Triumphant words of liberty ! White dove of peace ! enfold our land. And leave us never, never more ; Thou ! with a mission high and grand, Teach us thy lessons o'er and o'er. Be thy pure banner wide unfurled, And guide us with thy loving sway, Until the nations of the world, lu time's fleet march all pass away. SHALL THE UNION BE SEVERED? Never, oh ! never ! While gently bends the azure sky O'er earth so lovingly and fair, And troops of clouds careering by. Their inner tinge of glory wear; While the gleaming sunsets win the soul Up to the fount whence brightness flows^ And shining stars their vigils keep, Changeless and calm in pure repose. Never, oh ! never ! While grand and high the towering trees Chant anthems 'mid the forests old, Waking entrancing melodies. Sweeter than minstrel ever told. Their aged arms were long held forth To woo the murmurs of the breeze — Harp strings, that taking nature's tone, Breathed forth her sweetest melodies. 13 194 SHALL THE UNION BE SEVERED f Never, oh ! never ! While the tall northern pine doth dwell In beauty by the blue lake's side, And the magnolia of the south Wears gracefully its robes of pride. The violet from its lowly home, ' \ Looks sadly up at the dark thought; The rose puts on a deeper dye, To hear Disunion's treason taught. Never, oh ! never ! By every noble warrior heart That ceased to throb where fierce shot fell ; By love's sweet mission unfulfilled, Where kindred lips spake no farewell; By all the unsoothed agony. Untold, unknown to all, save God; By lonely homes, and darkened hearth. And silent paths where dear feet trod. Never, oh ! never ! By those who standi — the brave, the true — To-day " where man doth die for man ; " Who face the foe, while fast and thick Fall missiles from the hostile van ; By hands that bear aloft the flag, Though Death has touched the manly brow ; By echoed shouts from victor lips. Whose tones of triumph greet us now. SHALL THE UNION BE SEVERED? 195 Forbid it, Heaven ! And give thy blessing to our arms — Smile on us in proud victory; Give thine own strength unto the hands That for the right strive valiantly ; Disperse our foes — bring back again The white-winged dove of Peace to rest Upon our own unconquered hills, Beneath the flag we love the best. Then shall go up From North to South, from East to West, A glorious strain — a blended prayer, That 'neath the shelter of Thy love All may be kept with watchful care; That never more while time shall last. May dark Rebellion rear its crest, — That the glad sunlight and the stars, May find us undivided — blest! PRAY. "Beseech of Him Who giveth, upbraiding not." —Barton. Child ! with the fair and cloudless brow, The whisper of angels is 'round thee now; We gaze with joy on thy sunny face, In thine eyes' clear depth no grief we trace. Oh ! in the light of thy shadowless day, Gird for life's conflict — therefore, pray ! Youth ! I know life seemeth to thee A bright, yet unfolding mystery ; Few and happy have been thy years. Deeming this earth not a vale of tears. To thee there must come a darkened day, Now, in thy happiness, kneel and pray ! PR A Y. 197 Manhood! with busy and scheming heart, Thy hopes will fail thee, thy dreams depart, Forsaicing thee in thy hours of need, Each earthly stay but a broken reed. Pause ere life's light hath faded away — Look thou to Heaven — yea, look and pray ! Thou ! with the faltering step and slow, Upon whose head re^ts a crown of snow, Doth thy feeble heart look up to the sky, Clinging to promises sealed on high? Down to the grave thou art wandering thy way, Nearer, still nearer — oh, watch and pray ! Prayer! 'Tis a sacred and holy thing, 'Twill check the heart in each wandering, — A precious amulet mortals may wear. Relieving each sorrow, dispelling each care, It opens the gate to yon radiant shore — Pray thou on earth, thou shalt there adore. HY3IN FOR EASTER. Throw open wide, ye seraphs, The gates of pearl to-day,— Flash, wings of white, your brightness,' Where life's glad waters play ! We come in countless numbers. Our songs of praise to bring To our ascended Saviour, Whose risen power we sing. We walk through ranks of glory, Where dwell the cherubim ; We hear in grandest echoes, High Heaven's harmonious hymn ; We pass the saints and prophets, The holy ones of old ; Not there our spirits linger, — Not there our love is told. HYMN FOR EASTER. 199 On, where the blessed Saviour Is crowned and glorified, Where He, Divine and Holy, Stands at the Father's side. And here we fondly linger. And here our praise we bring — Accept it, Thou who reigneth, Exalted Lord and King. We tell with happy voices, Thy praises and Thy love. Thy triumph over darkness, Thy glorious reign above, — The glad and free salvation, Brought by Thy wounded hands, Whose living fountain ever Thy blest memorial stands. THE PRAYER OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. I come to Thee —Thou wilt hear The fond petition of a loving heart; Thou, who enthroned in majesty above, • The strength and succor of thy children art. I come to Tlice — and as I lowly kneel, "Would rend the veil that severs me from Thee; So if, perchance^ I touched Thy siiining robe, My hand of Faith would win this boon lor me. . Thy quivering starlight rests upon my brow, — The calmness of Thy Heaven doth touch my heart; And I have shut out from me all the world, All, all, save one, of life how dear a part. I cannot leave him. Father — he is linked So closely to this pleading soul of mine. I breathe to Thee no prayer without his name, But blend it even tenderly with Thine. THE PRAYER OF THE SOLDIERS WIFE. ,201 Look down upon liiin from Thine own high home, — Hold him within Thy guardian loving arms; He standeth now upon the battle-field, Amid its fearful danger and alarms. His heart is brave, he knoweth not a fear, To deeds of valor he will hasten on — Go Thou before him, that the shadow dark May never rest his chosen path upon. Shelter his head so dear from every ill — ' Keep back the crimson tide from his dark hair Ijet not a traitor hand with ruthless aim Mar the rich beauty that dotii linger there. Let not those footsteps fail amid the fray — Let not his faithful hand grow rigid there. Keep him! oh, keep him. Father, from all harm. Vouchsafe a blessed answer to my prayer. Let not those eyes grow dim when far away, Looking in vain for some beloved face; Let not those lips their latest accents tell Where Love's sweet ministry hath not a place. a)3 THE PRAYER OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. I ask Thee, not that he may proudly win Upon the battle-field a glorious name. I ask Thee, not to wreathe his manly brow With the unfading laurel wreath of Fame. I only ask for life — his precious life — Content if Thou wilt give this boon to me ; All merciful ! I only ask that Thou His rock of refuge and defence will be. For this I offer up my pleading prayer: Hear me ! oh ! hear me in Thy peaceful Heaven, Where war's loud clang doth fold no silver wing, Where mortals stand unsinning and forgiven. Take him in Thine own arms; I leave him there, I give him up to no one, Lord, save Thee; My heart shall deem him sacred, and secure My faith shall ever firm and changeless be. HAIL TO THE HEROES. Lines written on tlie return of the 47ih Illinois and 81h Missouri Regiments. Hail to the Heroes! The brave and true; Blessings descend on their paths like dew; Who, strong in the pride of manhood's might, Went forth their Country's battles to fight. Around and above their onward way Shone the bright gleam of Liberty's ray, And proudly their banner waved afar, Bearing the glory of Stripe and Star. Faithful and firm on the crimson field, With a purpose holy and noble steeled, They stood 'mid the battle's din and shock, Calmly as stands the wave-dashed rock ; No craven fear subdues their souls, As fiercely the tide of stern strife rolls. Stand up in thy majesty, Illinois, They have won the glory time can not destroy. 204 HAIL TO THE HEROES. Homeward they come — let each hand and heart In a warm, glad welcome bear a part, — Let uncounted blessings and thanks go round, For the soldiers' brows with laurels crowned. Hail to the heroes! each gallant one Who went at the call of the signal gun, — Glory shall )3lace on its towering height Their stainless record all fair and bright. And yet, as we number each brave band o'er, There are missing feet that return no more; And sadly we hush our tones of glee '■ As we linger with thee, oh ! memory. With chastened feelings our spirits tell How nobly they fought, how nobly they fell ; And with I'olded wings o'er their calm, sweet rest, Hero and martyr, we deem them blest. BETTER THAN OUR FEARS. Far better than our fears Art Thou, oh ! Lord of light, Who gives us blessed day As well as darkest night; Who calms the raging wave, And whispers, "Peace, be still/' Whoever gives us good Amid each bitter ill. " Far better than our fears, Lord ! hast Thou been for years." When sorrows come, and tears, And dark despair draws near; When clouds obscure the light. And sinking spirits fear; When Hope forsakes our hearts. And Misery comes nigh, Thy voice of Love we hear. And to Thy refuge fly. " Far better than our fears. Lord ! hast Thou been for years.'* 206 BETTER THAN OUR FEARS. Oft, when the Angel dark, Upon our threshold stands, — When some beloved life Seems waiting his commands; Dear Lord ! Thou bringest back New light to brow and cheek, And joyfully we bow, Thy glorious praise to speak. " Far better than our fears. Lord ! hast thou been for years." Yea ! better far, dear Lord, Thou art than our own fears ; Thy goodness and Thy love Shall brighten coming years; And we will trust Thee still, Though clouds around us lie — Even through the valley dark. Thou wilt be ever nigh. And through Eternal years, Our souls shall know no fears. EASTER HYMN. Sound the tidings, earth and Heaven, — Wake each grand and lofty strain, — Tell it o'er in joyful measure, Chant the echoed words again : Jesus lives ! Our Lord is risen ! He hath triumphed o'er the grave. Jesus lives! in power Eternal, To redeem, exalt, and save. Tell it! oh, thou golden sunlight. Lighting up our rescued world; Stars of evening, wide proclaim it In the azure skies impearled. That He lives and reigns forever, — Our ascended Lord and King, — While our hearts and lips united Praise and true devotion bring. 208 EASTER HYMN. Jesus Christ ! our Lord and Saviour, Holy art Thou, and divine, — Reigning over earth and Heaven, Love, and power, and greatness, Thine. All Thine agonies are ended, — Bitter trials come no more ; And with spirits fond and grateful. We may worship and adore. Hear! oh, hear our hymns of praises. Ever blessed Lord and God ! While we walk in life's dark mazes. Where Thy blessed feet have trod. In Thy home of radiant glory. Take the praise and love we bring, — . Praise that hails Thee, blessed Jesus, Mediator, — Saviour,— King. MEMORIAL DAY. May 30, 1S71. The heart of the nation is throbbing to-day With thoughts that are holy ; and memory takes From her casket bright jewels, and many a crown Of dazzling and radiant brightness makes. O'er hillsides of beauty, o'er valleys of green, Wherever our soldiers have sunk to their rest, She lingers with tokens and offerings of love — With fragrance and bloom for each pale sleeper's breast. Green, green, are the laurels she twines for each brow, — Their freshness eternal time never can fade ; And gently and lovingly with tender hands, Above each dear head is the rosy wreath laid. Over eyes that awake not — over calmly crossed hands — Over patriot hearts that know never a fear; Over feet that were brave, that grow weary no more. Falls purely and brightly her own crystal tear. U 210 MEMORIAL DAY. She reads the fair record of days that are gone, When rang like a trumpet the shrill battle call ; When the flag of our Union by foes were assailed ; When they gave their proud manhood, their lives and their all. We know how we girded their bright armor on, Though love's was a weak and a tremulous hand ; But we gave them to God, with our blessing and faith, And we bade them with tears in His own strength to stand. They marched to the front; amid danger's dark hour They kept over treason their vigilant guard ; Their bayonets glistened beneath Southern skies. And as true as the stars was their watch and their ward, They died that the truths they ennobled might live; We yield them the triumph, though ours be the tears; We hail them to-day in the haven of peace — Before war's commotion, its woes and its fears. And while Earth her blossoms and fragrance doth bring - — While her anthems of melody float up on high — As she numbers the names of the noble and brave. The names of the chosen that never can die ; Doth not Heaven seem to echo the glorious strains, As they sweep like the billows, o'er each golden street? Do not angel voices rehearse the grand hymns. And the record of deeds that were God-like repeat? MEMORIAL DAY. 211 Ah, yes ! and between that blest world and our own, The thin mystic veil seems to-day drawn aside; With fixed earnest vision we look on the ranks Of the noble and true who for liberty died. They stand on the hills, whose fair beauty ne'er fades; They stand in the sunlight, that never grows dim; They stand at the portals of jasper and gold To hear love's deep cadence — her requiem hymn. Haste ! haste ! to Heaven's battlements, martyred and crowned ; Haste over the radiant plains — o'er the streets; Look down from your glory, and hear ye the vow Which a nation, devoted and loyal, repeats. The vow to bear upward, through Time's onward march, The flag you have honored, the flag of the free; To guard it so fondly with Love's jealous care — To plant its rare splendor o'er land and o'er sea. Look lovingly down from your calm home above, Your foes are all vanquished, your victories won; The land you have saved is repeating to-day Your deeds of high valor and duties well done. Your names are the burden of anthem and song — They float like a blessing upon the pure air; Tliey are spoken with tears by the dear household hearth — The sweet inspiration of praise and of prayer. 212 MEMORIAL DAY. Fairer than fragrance and bloom which we bring To brighten with beauty each Patriot's grave, Is the deathless remembrance we keep of the deeds Whose might and whose truth our blest Union could save; The deeds which will live, when Earth's voices are still, When its harps are unstrung, and all silent its songs — The deeds which the angel records upon high. And Heaven, through ages eternal, prolongs. Brave soldiers and heroes who stand here to-day. On whose brows the fair sunlight in beauty still shines. Your country remembers your faith and your love. And with pride and devotion your valor enshrines. She hath not forgotten the red fields of war, Where you stood with your comrades unflinchiug and true; Where you looked on the face of the foeman, and won The grandest of triumphs the world ever knew. The structure of Liberty framed by our sires Your hands held aloft above treason's dark wave. Till it stood on the firm rock of Freedom secure, Unmoved, though fierce breakers around it did rave. MEMORIAL DAY. 213 Your country is grateful, she cannot forget — And she lays her proud homage to-day at your feet. She would frown on the lips that would honor you not, Nor the greatness of patriot manhood respect. Oh ! ye loyal who live, oh ! ye faithful who died — Your names are enduring, ennobled and blest. We crown you anew with fresh chaplets of green, Whether heart thrills with life, or in calm shimbers rest. Time its impress may leave on all things that are fair, — Love may weep o'er the treasures it ruthlessly mars, But Remembrance shall hallow the gallant and brave, AVho kept in their splendor the stripes and the stars. MONDAY MORNING. The Sabbath hours have passed away, So stilly, pure, and calm, With comfort for the burdened heart, And for the stricken, balm ; Gone are its hours of sunshine — gone Its moments of repose ; Its morning and its evening tune; Its starry midnight's close. The silvery chimes are silent now, Which called the earth to prayer ; The feet of countless worshippers No longer linger there. The aisles are quiet where the steps With thankfnl measure trod. Walking in " Wisdom's pleasant ways," To serve and honor God. MONDAY MORNING. 215 The glorious strains that echoed there, Like incense rising high, Are luished, — and tones of pleading Faith, Whose memory can not die ; "Forms — that may never more return ; Eyes — that no lustre lack. Perchance have passed away, where time May never bring them back. And now we take our place again Upon life's busy way, Where sounds of commerce and of toil Re-echo through the day. The burdens which our hands laid down When the sweet Sabbath came, Are taken uj), but lighter seem, And greater efforts claim. Onward throughout each coming day, With willing hands and feet, We weave our duties in our lives, The fabric to complete ; — That like a mantle covers us With many a graceful fold, Tinged with the hues of faith and hope. And Love's refining gold. 216 MONDAY MORNING. Oh ! for the grace to walk aright Throughout these busy days ; To mingle with our earthly thoughts The strains of prayer and praise. To see with faith the gates of Heaven, Where toil and care shall end, — And peace with perfect blessedness. Our pathways shall attend. A MEED OF PRAISE. Inscribed to ihc Yoko Fellows of Calvary Mission Church. White were the fields in harvest time, And ripened grain was bending low, — 'Laden with promise for the hours When it the reaper's hand should know. The wind swept o'er it, and it seemed Like moving billows on the sea. Which took the shadows of the clouds That left their gorgeous tracery. When forth there came witVi earnest souls, A faithful and devoted band, Who gathered up the golden sheaves. And bound them for the Master's hand. They spared no labor — feared no toil, But looked with hoping, trusting eyes On the abundance, — where it lay Around their paths in fairest guise. 218 A MEED OF PRAISE. «^- Even so, with purpose grand and high, A brotherhood of Christians came, — Strong in the faith Religion gives, — Strong in the power of Jesus' name. They looked upon the wandering ones. Bound in strong chains inwrought by sin, And love and pity moved their hearts To wisdom's ways those souls to win. When the glad morning filled the world With beauty and reflected light, And when the earth was covered o'er With the mysterious pall of night; In the high hour of noontide, too, 'Mid soundis of commerce and of toil, They sought the erring — sought with love The power of Satan to despoil. They called the wanderer to the place Where God's own messengers were heard,- Where free and open were the doors. And sweet and kindly was each word ; Where strains of lofty praise arose. And tones of earnest, pleading prayer, For the direction of the Lord, — For His untiring, watchful care. A MEED OF PRAISE. 219 Lips that had known no gentle tones, Unused to peace and tenderness, Learned the ghid strains of Sabbath hymns, And their own weakness to confess. Eyes whose dull bound had been the world, Now gazed above with new-found trust, To see our God, all merciful, A Mediator faithful — just. Were ever sheaves more gladly brought In meekness to the Master's feet? Did voices ever, day by day. More gratefully their pmise repeat. Than those of this devoted band, AVho for the Saviour's glory served, — Who from the consecrated path Of sternest duty never swerved? Yoke Fellows ! sacred is the trust Committed to your watchful care; Sacred the mission you have reared, Upheld by never-ceasing prayer. "Hope" gleams afar with blessed light, And " Faith " sheds bright and cheering rays, While Pleasant Hill repeats the strains Of echoed prayer and glorious praise. 220 A MEED OF PRAISE. Though difficulties meet your paths, — Though clouds obscure, and light seems lost, Press forward in your Master's strength, — Count not the labor, nor the cost. A work is yours — a noble work ; To your own hands this trust is given : The privilege to lead stray souls Back to the light of God's own Heaven. Gird on your armor with new strength, Salvation's helmet, Faith's own shield, The breast-plate of true righteousness, That will not to a foeman yield. Put on the truth — the spirit's sword ; Protect your feet with gospel peace ; So shall your courage and your zeal In high endeavor never cease. So shall you stand amid the world, Serene and safe through all its storms, — Clad in the panoply of light That such a certain safe-guard forms; So shall you stand until the hour When life is ended — conflicts done; You hold the palms of victory. And find your crown of glory won. TO MISS KATIE E. MgKENZIE. On her wedding-day. Affection's hand hath twined for thee The wreath of orange blossoms fair, And gracefully its buds will rest Amid the braids of thy dark hair. In their own dialect they tell The brightness of Love's golden chain, That waits thy wearing, when thy lips Shall breath in solemn vows its strain. Another wreath I bring thee, sweet friend, To place upon thy gentle brow. Radiant with bloom, with fragrance rich — I gaze upon its beauty now. I culled from it from the paths of life, Where thou didst walk — wherever fell The effluence of the gracious soul That dwelt about thee like a spell. 222 TO MISS KATE E. McKENZIE. The flowers of Faith and Truth are there- of Gentleness, and Hope, and Love, Knowledge and Patience, — Tenderness That takes its perfume from above ; And each in low, sweet whisper tells Of life and its best duties done, — And thus thy glorious womanhood This crown of loveliness hast won. I place it on thy head — no hand Of mortal power can pluck it thence ; There shall it ever brightly bloom, — There its own fragrancy dispense. And well I know that round thy way Still shall be gathered fairest flowers — Thine own blest heritage to take New lustre from thy future hours. Farewell ! farewell ! I would not speak The words that take so sad a tone, — They seem a discord in the strain Of harmony our lives have known. I breathe them with regretful soul, — I breathe them low and tenderly. And ask our Father for His love And ffuardian care for thine and thee. HAST THOU FORGOTTEN f Hast thou forgotten her whose smile Fell brightly round thy home? Is there no wonted lingering tone, Across thy soul to come? Oh ! tell me if the joyous past Is, as a Pleiad, gone From the clear blue of memory's heaven. So fair to gaze upon. Ah no ! ah no ! though other smiles Are shed around thee now ; Although thy lips again have breathed The sacred marriage vow. Still lingers fondly at thy side The early loved and lost ; Her memory as a beacon light, When on life's billows tossed. THE BAPTI8M. September's sky hung lovingly o'er earth, And the fresh sunlight brightened hill and vale ; The glancing waters dreamily swept by, Reflecting in their depths the fleecy cloud ; And the glad voice of nature had a lull As though amid the Sabbath's holy hours It, too, would worship with a silent awe. The calm, still Sabbath ! when earth's toiling one Bringeth before the Throne his added thanks, For that one golden link in life's dull chain. That binds him hearer Heaven as he forgets For one short day life's carking care and toil — The calm still Sabbath ! with its silvery tones That call to prayer. Unto the house of God A throng was tending, and my eager feet Took up the march and wandered gladly on. Bright, hurrying childhood, and the measured step All, wave-like, swept in willing unison. THE BAPTISM. 225 I .<^tooc] upon tlie threshold — what a sight Of rare, unsullied beauty met me there. There stood the man of God in vestments white, And there before him, in rich loveliness, Two fairy children met my wondering eyes, — Cherubs in white array, methought they were, — And sure am I. if God should call them up To Avear the angels' robe of spotless white. No lovelier look could rest upon their brows Than that they wore on that calm Sabbath morn. Twin-born and beautiful ! how the admiring eye Drank in their sweetness, as the shining drops Kissed with their lucid brightness each fair brow. Whereon was traced the seal of God's own love — The seal that stamped them consecrate of Him. Full long I gazed, — and from my inmost soul Came an unspoken wish that those young lives Might pass unsullied through this troublous world. And fade into the radiant light of Heaven. Yea, keep them. Father, 'neath thy watchful eye, Safe for the Better Land, — let no rude blast Assail them as they walk together on ; Be near them when the pure angelic heart Of infancy is theirs ; and when glad youth Hath told its promise on each fair young brow. Keep fresh their manhood's soul with gentle deeds,. And if old age may write his snowy trace 75 226 THE BAPTISM. On each bright head, may they look back Upon a life-time marked with blessedness, And pass to joys that mortals may not know. ^ * * * * jl< * From the baptismal fount they turned away, And when mine eye had lost each little form. My spirit followed with unuttered prayer For blessings o%their way. Full many a time The vision comes before me — memory keeps Revealings such as this in casket fair, — Full oft she lays upon her sacred shrine The semblance of that fair and sinless twain, — The lovely vision of that Sabbath morn. WHAT HATH THE FUTURE f What hath the future for the gladdened eye? Full many a spring time, with its robe of green Full many a radiant hour of summer's store With fragrant bloom and hues of fairy sheen ? Or will Death's sleep soon seal the quiet lid, Veiling the beauty of earth and sky, Though the glad seasons come and go, And nature's harmonies steal softly by? W^hat hath the future for the breathing lip? The gentle power some heart to cheer and bless With droppings from affection's gushing fount, With many a tone of Love's own tenderness? Or in pale rest, in rigid calm repose, A voiceless home amid the grave's dark night. Where wonted tones, and kind and gentle words Shall live alone in memory's magic light? 228 WHAT HATH THE FUTURE? What hath the future for the busy hand ? Such deeds of h)ve as cheer the weary heart, The aching brow to soothe, the grief to calm, Which of some life hath been so large a part? Or quietude, — above the pulseless heart So gently folded, — with life's mission o'er; To know Love's clasp fall silently away, — To grasp life's unreality no more? What hath the future for the bounding heart? Some blessed cheering hope, some waking dream, The glancing back of kindred, loving thoughts. Which brightens earth as if with heaven's gleam? Will its deep feelings meet no warm response. Its countless treasures carelessly flung back? Or shall its throbbings soon have ceased to beat Their measured round upon life's daily track? We may not know. There hangs a mystic veil Between our vision and the future hour, — Held there in mercy by our Father's hand, W^ithdrawn alone by his mysterious power. Let us press onward, clinging to His side Who guides us gently o'er life's every way ; Rich in the countless mercies of each hour. Content with the revealings of to-day. WHAT HATH THE FUTURE? 229 And may the future have for every eve Visions of beauty by life's crystal stream; For everv brow a coronet of liffht. Whose flashing brig;htness evermore shall beam ; For every lip the high triumphant strain, Whose echoes hush the wave and cheer the vale — The spirit's victor anthem, sounding high When the frail bonds of earth and sense shall fail. And when the labors of each hand are done, — When the heart-throbbings of this life are o'er, And in the coming future we must place Our pilgrim feet upon the unknown shore; In blest fruition of the hope of heaven. May we triumphant give all praise and power To Him who reigns in majesty supren;e, And with omniscient eye scans everv liour. THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. The tongue of Time with silvery voice tolled Ten, When a worn wanderer sought his couch to die ; No summer flowers sweet fragrance breathed around, No gentle hand his dying pillow soothed ; — December's sky looked coldly, clearly down, And, save the shining stars that watched above. He was alone. The sad and moaning wind Breathed low its requiem tone, discordant oft With many notes that floated on the air, And seemed a dying knell to his dull ear. He knew full well that in that echoed joy His spirit had no part — for on his brow The thin gray locks waved in the frosty air, And the dull eye reflected back no light. I loved him well — a dear, familiar friend, Whose hand had flung rich blessings on my path. And given a rosy tint to passing hours, THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 231 Which seemed from Heaven to take their beauty. I hived him well ! for in his vanished time He came unto my heart, and on its inner shrine Laid stores of glorious wealth, on which my soul Shall bend forever; — high and glittering hopes, Whose radiance, as it brightens day by day, Speaks of a future when each starry gleam Shall gain new brightness from the world of light. From a glad throng I fled to soothe his woe, — Unheeding even the witchery of song, And the fair forms that floated gaily by. Slowly, yet sure, the sands of life ebbed out, — The purple stream grew chill in every vein ; Yet, e'er his little all of life was o'er, He breathed for me his farewell strain to (orth. I go, I go, to the spirit band. They beckon me on with spectre hand ; O'er the mystic river my bark will glide. Death bears me over the swelling tide, — I hear the plash of his coming oar, Fleetly I'll speed to yon far-off" shore. I know no terror, — nor would I stay When the pure and lovely have passed away ; I would not linger in winter's gloom, That shrouds so deeply in icy tomb The fragrance that o'er my spirit fell, — The brightness and beauty I loved so well. 232 THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. I think of my spring-time fresh and green, Bright glanced the sun on the gladsome scene ; I think of my summer's golden hours, With the gentle breeze, and the buds, and the flowers ; And down my cheek, like the sobbing rain, Flow tears — for they never may come again. The greenwood's glory, alas! is o'er; The rippling streamlet is heard no more; The bird of the woodland hath ceased its song, And the joyous feet of the flowery throng That peopled with beauty the hill and plain, May never, oh ! never, return again. Voices are hushed, high hearts are cold, That hailed my coming — my triumph told; Thev have o-one before me — their gentle tone Comes not to soothe my spirit's moan ; They have found a home with the quiet dead — Light press the turf on each sleeper's head. Farewell! Farewell! — I am wafted along — Nearer, still nearer, yon shadowy throng; I crave a boon, — that my life shall be A holy and cherished memory ; Upon each heart I would bind the spell Of blest Remembrance — Farewell ! farewell I THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 233 Tlie chimes pealed twelve — Death's icy seal was placed Upon the furrowed brow and faded cheek ; Upon the lip a tinge of life-like glow. He passed as clouds of sunset gently fade Into night's chilly darkness; — as the star — The missing Pleiad — that once proudly dwelt Among the radiant host in yonder sky. I could not check the tribute of my tears When the dull clod was heaped upon his breast, And with a chastened heart I turned my steps From his low tomb. Lo ! what a joyous strain Breaks on mine ear! — as though the morning stars Awoke again their glad primeval strain And filled the earth with glory and with light. The New Year's Song! who at life's threshold stands To gaze upon the new and untried way. Not long he lingered — for the laughing hours Did win him onward, and the glowing buds In Hope's young hands seemed bursting into flowers ; Upon his brow fair Beauty's signet gleamed, And as he woke his new and untried lyre, Attuned to notes of promise, echoes fell Like showers of melody around our feet. 234 THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. I come, I come to the joyous earth, — I come 'mid the song of gladness and mirth ; I have heard the echoing triumph strain As it floated to meet me o'er hill and plain. Though my way be strewn as a conqueror's path, No trace is mine of his warring wrath. I come with blessings — yea! even now. Though winter waves from the mountain's brow An icy sceptre — I bring glad mirth To echo round the household hearth. Even the aged one with steps so slow, Will marvel much how long the hours go. I have hues of the brightest green for Spring ; On Summer a fragrance and sheen I'll fling. I've a gorgeous wreath for proud Autumn's head, ^Twill be rare and richly garlanded, — A Tyrian robe for his fading form. To shield him well from the Winter's storm. For the rill I'm bringing a low sweet song. Merry 'twill be as it glides along, Where it casts a glance with shimmering eye. To the sunny spots where the violets lie — The rival of many a shining star, That lovingly looks from its home afar. THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 235 Coming along in my joyous train, Are the waving harvests of golden grain, And countless treasures of fruit and flowers. And beauty to garnish the forest bowers, Where at fall of eve and blush of morn, Shall blithely echo the hunter's horn. I will call from the wide and tossing main The sailor-boy to his home again. I will murmur low in his listening ear The voices of Home, that he loved to hear. I will whisper low of a mother's prayer. Breathed for her rover so often there. I will come to the weary bed of pain, With Health's own vigor and bloom again. For the sorrowful spirit I bring a balm, A holy trust, and a soothing calm. Peace for the mourner, upon whose brow The traces of grief are deepening now. The widow's heart I will strengthen and cheer — I will dry at its fountain the bitter tear. The orphan's path I will guide and bless With a gleam of the olden tenderness. Light shall spring up in the darkened way. Bringing the vision of Hope's bright day. 236 THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. And many a floweret of Hope is mine, Around earth's path in beauty to twine. Many a dream of Love do I bring O'er the weakened heart in beauty to fling, — Kindly purposes of welcoming hands, And joyous greetings of household bands. The flag of our country shall wave afar, — On high shall glitter each golden star; Its folds shall o'ershadow th-e land and the sea, While our noble hills unconquered shall be. No land so fair 'neath the sky's blue dome As America's soil — the freeman's home. His strain was over — fraught with hope his song; Of coming change and death he^id not tell. And not one word of the bright, joyous throng Who welcomed him — .yet, shall not say farewell. His young, unsullied life had never known The gentle chastening of fond memory's power. And all around seemed radiant with the light — The sunny light of that unshadowed hour. 'T were well, — for all too soon some hearts will know The bitterness and woe of severed ties — When the mute lips give back no tone to bless, And low the sunny head in slumber lies. THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. Kind Patrons. May its choicest gifts be shed In rich profusion o'er each heart and home, — While gently o'er each soul, like angel wings. Sweet memories of the vanished year shall come. Were Hope but prophecy, o'er every head Should fall, as falls the summer's cheering dew, Life's choicest blessings — long and happy hours, That from the upper glory take their hue. No happy home should then be desolate, — Love's myrtle for the cypress we would twine, While every tear that fell in Fifty-Eight Should change to smiles in happy Fifty-Nine, LET ME KISS HIM FOR HIS MOTHER. In a city crowded vast, Where a throng went hurrying past, Lay a youth with silent heart, . Bearing in that life no part; Lips, with no fond pressure warm, Rigid grown amid Death's storm ; Cheeks so white, and marble brow, Wearing Azrael's shadow now. Low he lies in coffin bed, While around his youthful head Lay rich locks of dark-brown hair. Shining as in mockery there. Those still feet shall nevermore Tread upon his native shore, — Nor that voice, in happy mirth, Echo round his father's hearth. 'LET ME KISS HIM FOR HIS MOTHER. 239 Low he lies — yet round that rest Come not those who love him best; No fond mother weeps the son With life's mission scarce begun ; No brave brother near him stands, Sobbing for those folded hands. Far away his sister's smile, — Far o'er many a weary mile. Strangers gaze upon that head, Resting in its shrouded bed ; Thinking of his lonely fate — Of his death so dccolate; Wondering, as they smooth his hair. Who his friends and kindred were. Where his home and hearth — oh! where. Loving ones that waited there. Ere that sleeper's face was hid 'Neath the pressing coffin lid, Came a woman's bowing form, Came a woman's heart — ^o warm Murmuring, '< Let me kiss that face For his mother — kiss the place Her fond lips so oft hath pressed, When he slept in rosy rest. 240 LET ME KISS HIM FOR HIS MOTHER. " He hath none, now like his past, Mournfully to look their last; Those who love him — far away, Dream not where he sleeps to-day. Let me kiss that pale, cold brow, For his waiting mother, now. Who no more those lips may press With unchanging tenderness." Tears fell brightly o'er each cheek, Nature's sympathies to speak; Spirit offerings, they were shed Stilly o'er that sleeper's head. Tender thoughts awoke that day For his mother, far away. Whose fond eyes will look in vain For his vanished smile again. Angel prompted ! blessed thou ! Who thus kissed that stranger brow; Gentle mercies on thy head. Friend unto the lonely dead. When stern Death hath hushed thy heart. That in love bore noble part, O'er the stars and o'er the sky. Be thy home in memories high. DYING. Father ! hear our suppliant cry, Mark our heart's deep agony; Thou ! who dvvellest where angels are, Listen to our fervent prayer. O'er our mourning, stricken souls. Fast the wave of sorrow rolls ; For Death's shadow floateth near. Hovering o'er that form so dear. Still she lives, — while pallid lips Whisper low of life's eclipse ; Sombre wing is sweeping now O'er the beauteous cheek and brow ; Gently doth the eyelid fall. Hiding, as with funeral pall, Life, and light, and sunny ray, — Passed for aye on earth away. 16 242 DYING. Father ! fold Death's pinion up, Fill again life sparkling cup ; What will be earth's fairest scene, — Spring's green robe and summer's sheen ; What will be the bud and flower, — What the happy, joyous hour, — What the sunlight, fresh and fair, If that presence is not there ? If that beloved brow was hid Beneath the pressing coffin-lid, And those dear hands grown still and cold, Beneath the quiet churchyard mould ; Were I no more on earth to see That loving eye shed light on me ; How dark, and drear, and desolate My pathway to the shining gate. It can not be, — it can not be ; Oh, Merciful ! we plead with thee. In this our tried and bitter hour. Come near us with thy healing power; Call to that lip one little word. So oft like music-murmurs heard. The full rich harmonies of life Are hushed amid the dying strife. DYING. 243 Faint, fainter comes the feeble breath — Deep, deeper grows thy shadow, Death ; The quivering heart-strings thou hast found They give back no melodious sound. Vain, vain love's wild imploring prayer — Vain sleepless vigil, tireless care. We sink in depths of misery, — Our Father ! raise our souls to thee. Taken from earth's weary way To the land of endless day ; Taken from the coming sorrow, — From each changing, sad to-morrow. Crowned with glory ! — back, sad tears. She shall know no darkened years. Crowned with glory ! on life's track Wish we not tlie freed one back. OUR DARLING' 8 BIRTHDAY Our darling's birthday ! it was wont to come On the bright wings of joyous hope and love ; Falling amid the radiance of the hours Whose summer glories woo the heart above. 'Twas ushered in by lips whose every strain Was one glad glow of melody and mirth — - Whose untaught music chimed in unison With all the blessed harmonies of earth. Twas ushered in by happy bounding feet, That, with young heart-throbs, kept such pleasant time, Awaking childhood's purest happiness In many a joyful burst of sweetest rhyme. From morn till night those eyes grew never dim, Looking upon us but to love and bless, Flashing their sunshine over home and hearth, From the full fount of their own joyousness. OUR DARLING'S BIRTHDAY. 245 Our darling's birthday ! it hath come again ; The hours are goWeu, and the sunshine bright, And God hath robed this pleasant world of ours In hues of loveliness — in glorious light. But to ray heart, this day, there seeraeth cast Across the beauty of the earth and sky, A sombre shade that veileth, even now, The kindling glories that around me lie. It dims the radiance of the hill and vale, And fills the air with sad, low melodies. That, as they sweep across each bud and flower, Burden the fragrance of the gentle breeze. No boyish form comes proudly forth to-day. Clad with prerogative of natal right ; No rosy lips, to-day, win pressure fond. Nor love's sweet tokens gracefully requite. It seems to me those pattering feet must come To-day. I hear their echoes on the stair. And start and listen, but to know That never, never, shall I know them there. 24() OUR DARLING'S BIRTHDAY. Our darling's birthday ! it hatii come to eartli, And he has gone to dwell in yonder Heaven ; His bright years crowned with an unfading grace, That to our mortal pathway is not given, Undimmed by shadows, brightened by the light Reflected from the radiance of the Throne, He stands (no longer by life's years enthralled) And claims a higher birthday for his own. A higher birthday ! Avhen his childish soul Awoke to life amid the seraphim ; When, at the shining gate, arose the strains — The deathless music of his triumph hymn. A life he won, not counted by dull years — No varying light and shade its changes tell — Where, with earth's vanished angel, it will be — As countless years sweep ever onward — well. THE PRAYER OF KING S0L03I(J\. In vast magnificence the temple stood Complete — a dream of beauty realized, Whose rich imaginings had ne'er before Greeted the earth with its rare radiance. Like quivering sunlight gleamed the altar there ; The golden vessels and the table shone With burnished lustre, — while the cherubim Spread their calm wings above the mercy seat, As if to breathe a benison o'er all. King Solomon gazed on the gorgeous scene With full and thankful heart, and as he knelt Before the altar, ])rayed thus to the mighty Lord : ' Lord of Israel, there is none like thee In the high Heaven, or on the earth we tread ; All merciful and covenant-keeping, Thou, With those who in thy holy footsteps tread. Oh, Lord ! the Heaven of Heavens contains thee not. How much less, then, this house I build for thee ; Yet hearken to the prayers thy people breathe. And let their offerings accepted be. 248 THE PRAYER OF KING SOLOMON. " If any one against his brother man Should trespass by unkind word or deed. And on his soul be lain a sacred oath, Coming before the altar in his need, — Hear Thou in Heaven, Thy dwelling place, oh, Lord, And judge between the wicked and the true ; Condemn the false one, — justify the right, And fill the fainting soul with courage new. "When thine own people, Israel, shall fall, Smitten before their vengeful enemy, Because they have forsaken Thy commands — Sinning in perverse blindness against thee ; — If they shall turn in penitence on high. Confess Thy name, and lowly, humbly pray ; Hear Thou in Heaven, Thy chosen dwelling place — Forgive, and wash each marring sin away. " When for Thy people's sins the heavens are shut. And the parched earth doth pine for gentle rain,— When the fair floweret fades, with drooping head, To know no radiant hue or life again, — When the tall grass lies languishing and low, And tree, and shrub, no gentle fragrance give ; — If Israel turn toward this place in prayer. Hear Thou, oh. Lord ! to answer and forgive. THE PRAYER OF KING SOLOMON. 249 ''When famine stalks abroad upon the earth, With bloodless cheek, and gaunt, imploring hand, — When the dark wing of Azrael unfolds Amid the pestilence that sweeps the land, — When blasting and when mildew mar the earth ; When enemies besiege the land we love ; — If Israel turns to Thee, oh. Lord! in prayer, Forgive, and thus Thy grace and mercy prove. " Whene'er the stranger comes unto our land, Hearing of Thy great name — each mighty deed ; Thine arm stretch out to pity and to bless ; — If he shall come here in his utmost need. Praying unto Thee, — Oh ! our mighty Lord, Hear Thou in Heaven, Thy glorious dwelling place. Hear and forgive, — and grant his earnest prayer According to Thy great and endless grace. " When Israel to the battle-field shall go In conflict with their fierce contentious foe ; If they shall look on high to Thee for aid. For the strong succor, he who trusts Thee knows, Hear Thou in heaven each supplicating tone, And give them for their portion, victory ; Returning 'neath the shelter of their homes. Happy and peaceful ever more to be. 50 THE PRAYER OF KING SOLOMON. " And yet, if they shall sin against thee sore, And Thon shalt give them to their enemy, Captives, afar from their beloved Land, In servile bondage lone and sad to be ; When they shall pine for their remembered joys, — For the sweet ^Yhispering of the olive tree ; If they, oh Lord! shall come to Thee in prayer, Hear Thon in Heaven, and set the captives free. "For they are thine,^thy chosen, and thine own, — Thon bronghtest them from Egypt's servile Land — Through desert sands and weary years they came. Though sometimes faithless, yet a trusting band. Of thy great care — thy wond'rous providence — Our lips would gladly murmur day by day. Of the high truths unto our fathers spoken By him who led them o'er the toilsome way." And Solomon arose when he had breathed His fervent prayer, and spread his hands to Heaven And blessed he the Lord, who gave the rest. Unto his people not one single word That he had spoken to Israel had failed — With solemn invocation yet he prayed That God would leave them not; that he would still Incline their hearts to love and worship Him ; To keep his every statute and command ; That all the dwellers upon earth might know That He was God, and there was none like Him. A RESPONSE To the call for six hundred thousand men. We come — six hundred thousand strong, A brave and patriotic band, Each with a strong undaunted heart, Each with a good right hand. Awake the notes of martial tone, Sound forth the pealing drum ; For, with a firm and fearless step We come ! we come ! we come ! We come, our country to sustain. Its foemen to subdue ; To bear aloft, with deathless might, Our own " red, white and blue." Our hands shall plant on many a height The glorious stripes and stars ; Unresting, 'till not one dark star Their peerless beauty mars. 252 A RESPONSE. Wc come, with souls prepared to stand In many a conflict dire ; With vengeful missies round us thrown, Amid war's hostile fire. No mercy ours for traitor foes, As face to face we stand. God ! smile upon the onward way Of our devoted Land. We come, although beloved lips Grow pale with keenest pain, — Although we ne'er may look upon The eyes wc love again ; Though sobbing farewells throng our path, And tears bedew our way ; Though clinging hand enfold our own, Wc may not — cannot stay. And thus we take our onward march, Resolved to do or die ; We vow it on our country's shrine, — 'Tis 7'egistered on high ; We vow no fear, — no change to know While lives a hostile van ; We vow to stand, — if needs, to fall, "Where man doth die for man." A RESPONSE. 253 We come, we come with eager hearts, With banners waving free, — That float upon the summer air, And tell of victory. Look down the long and glittering ranks, A vast and conquering throng ; One aim — one thought, — one purpose theirs, — Six hundred thousand strong! OUR FATHER'S GRAVE. Oh, waiting grave ! must thou enshrine That cherished form I love so well ; Those pleasant smiles that o'er my way Like the refreshing sunlight fell? Must those dear eyes go down to thee, Closed in their calm, unbroken sleep ? How long will be the future years. If thou their gentle beauty keep ? Oh, waiting grave ! how can I give To thee that loved and honored head, Whose silver hair has been my pride And joy, as happy moments sped? I charge thee ! take it tenderly. For 'round it strong my heartstrings cling ; Guard it amid its low, lone rest — A cherished and a sacred thing. OUR FATHK/rS (I RAVE. Thine, too, those quiet, gentle hands, That many a deed of love have done, Folded so calmly, side by side; — Grave, what a treasure thou hast won I Their blessing lingers on my head, I feel their pressure fond and true ; Take them, yes, take them, I have known Their last good night — their fond adieu. Those silent feet — though slow and sad We bear them to their resting-place — Have trod with joy the darkened vale, Kept by a loving Savior's grace. I shall not hear their coming steps, — That music sounds for me no more — And yet their echoes come to me In gladness from yon shining shore. Soft be the slumber of the eyes That ever o'er my life hav'c smiled, Whose glance of kind, approving love, Full many a vanished hour beguiled. Amid each dark and sombre hour, Their memory sheds its cheering ray A vision of undying power. Whose beauty cannot pass away. 256 OVR FATHER'S GRAVE. I know, that on some coming day, My heart shall thrill to hear again The tone and words I love so well, For which my spirit longs in vain. I know that smile shall yet be mine ; That dear hand press again my own ; That all my grief shall pass away. And I " shall know, as I am known." And with that perfect faith and trust, I look away from earth to heaven, Adoring him, whose loving hand Such blessed light to me hath given. Still brighter gleam those streets of gold, Since kindred feet their paths have trod, Still nearer seems that angel clime. Since one we love went home to God. FALLEN ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE. .Fallen on the field of battle ; Comrades, gently raise his head. Pillow it upon some brave heart, It hath known a gory bed. Wipe the death damps from his forehead, Where the rich locks cluster o'er, — Loving hands shall stray amid them. Smooth their brightness — never more. See death's shadow stilly stealing O'er his lips so wan and pale, Struggling vainly for the utterance Of some word, ere life shall fail. Bend down low to catch the whisper, 'Tis of one so well beloved, — One who gave him up, all tearful, When his manhood's truth was proved. 17 258 FALLEN ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE. Take his sword — he wore it proudly — From his cold and clinging hand ; They will miss that noble presence In that brave, devoted band. Traitor hands may never wield it, Hang it up where it may tell Of the pride with which he bore it, Ere on battle-field he fell. Now his faithful heart is quiet, Now his flashing eye is dim. Now, when lips afar do murmur Fondest, loving prayers for him. Little know they that the starlight Shines above his pale dead face, As his comrades sadly bear him To his last sad resting place. Glory's mantle is around him, Starry banners o'er him wave. Fame shall crown his name with lustre, Gleaming round his soldier grave. FALLEN ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 259 Honor to the brave be given Falling on the battle-field ; Strew their rest with fadeless laurels, Proud and fair as earth may yield. Shrine their names amid each household, — Tell of thera on shore and sea, — Deeds like theirs demand the tribute Of an immortality. NOT DEAD. We will not call our darling dead, Though we have lain his infant head, With tears, upon his coffin bed. Not dead ! although his violet eyes, As bright as stars in summer skies, Grew dim amid life's agonies. Not dead ! though baby hands, so cold, In quiet beauty we did fold, To rest beneath the churchyard mold. Oh, no ! not dead ! — the seraphim. Even as his in/ant eye grew dim. On shining wing bent low for him, And to the land of fadeless flowers, Amid the amaranthine bowers. They bore this cherished child of ours. NOT DEAD. 261 His angel-life was there begun, — His pain and agony all done, — His short and fleeting race all run. Joy for thee, darling! earth's no more — A dweller on the shining shore. Where angels teach thee Heaven's lore. Teach us, oh. Father ! as we tread In sadness near his little bed, To say, with faith, not dead — not dead. Guide thou our weak and straying feet, To walk in joy each golden street, Our sinless darling there to meet. MARCH 4th, 1865. Ring out, oh, bells ! your sweetest notes, Float on the wind, oh, banner fair ; To-day our Ship of State glides on In safety 'neath our pilot's care. Our Captain — not of mortal mould — Smiles on its course, — while harmonies, Evoked from many a murmuring M'ave, Blend with each speeding, favoring breeze. At his command the ship is steered — And on this day we fain would clasp The hand so trusted and so true, That, with stern Faith, the helm doth grasp. That hand had loosed the bondman's chain ; It bade oppression's terror flee — Making the passing days and hours The happy year of jubilee. The trodden-down look up again, No crouching fear is in their gaze, While lips, unused to melody, Sing loud and high their hymn of praise. MARCH 4th, J869. 263 Laiis Deo — is the full heart's song ; A mighty nation's soul is stirred. From North to South, from East to West, A matchless minstrelsy is heard. Still sounding on the shores of Time, These triumph tones shall never die; But, blending with the stars' sweet strain, Shall win an immortality. And grandly through the eternal years, Kind Heaven shall each glad note prolong; For with the rapture of the blest, Shall sound the cadence of this song. Then ring, oh, bell, your sweetest notes ! Wave to the breeze ye banners fair! With bended knee and soul of Faith We ask our Father's love and care. We ask His blessing on the ship That walks the waters proud and free ; His blessing on the good right hand That, for the truth, strives valiantly. THE SOLDIER'S MONUMENT. Rise, crowned with glory ! shaft of white, Tower brightly to the bright blue sky, And tell in triumph to the world The names that were not born to die. Names, that throughout all coming time. Shall gleam with lustre pure and bright,- A lustre won for noble deeds. And tinged with Heaven's eternal light. When treason and disunion reared Their serpent heads with tongue of flame, And, with defiance and distrust, Our bitter, vengeful foes became ; When o'er the mountain and the vale Was heard our country's stirring cry : " To arms ! to arms !" and patriot hearts Resolved to conquer or to die. THE SOLDIER'S MONUMENT. 265 Then went each noble spirit forth, With trusting faith and strong right hand ; They stood " where man doth die for man," A fearless and unshrinking band ; They faltered not — but onward pressed, Firm in their manhood's power and pride ; And for our safety — for our weal — They bravely fought, — they nobly died. How shall we give them honor due? — How twine the laurel, for them meet? Had we the riches of the world To lay at their unconquered feet, 'T would not avail, — nor would it tell The grateful memories that we keep, Distilled in many a falling tear. Above their calm, unbroken sleep. But we will shrine each noble name Upon the marble pure and white. And the glad sunshine, day by day. Shall bathe them in its flowing light. The winds shall steal from Eden bowers. And linger 'round the sacred place, — Where stands the record that, with pride, A grateful country loves to trace. Sm ■■ TME SOLDIER'S MONUMENT. Look down, oh, watching stars of heaven ! Through the lone hours of mystic night, To guard them well with loving ward, And crown them with your golden light. Fall gently, purely, dews and showers. Those high and hallowed names around ; Fall as a blessing o'er the place Where memory makes it holy ground. Then rise, fair marble ! take thy place Among the things which earth will keep While time shall last, — and many an age Lies down unto its dreamless sleep. The hand of Genius crowns thee, too — Its living impress thou doth wear, — As clothed with its unchanging grace, Thou dost immortal deeds declare. THE WIDOW'S SON. "The only son of his mother, and she was a widow. Over a fair and coffined form A weeping mother bendeth low, To press, with pale and quivering lips, The marble cheek and white, cold brow. All motionless! unheeding, too. The gushing of that deathless love That would for him have given life. Its soundless depth and strength to prove. He was a widow's only son ! All that she loved on earth were given Unto the Master's hand, whose eye Looked on them in His own fair Heaven. Not one bright link to her was left Of love's entwining, golden chain. Save he, upon whose placid brow Her burning tears fell like the rain. 268 THE WIDOW'S SON. Her boy ! how could she give him up? He, whose young, fresh, unsullied lip Had scarcely pressed the cup of life, Its bright and sparkling draught to sip. He, without whom Hope never told Her sweet and blessed prophecy. Deeming that coming houFS shall keep Him still beside his mother's knee. How could she see that loving eye, Once glorious with its kindling light. Sealed in the silence of the tomb, Sleeping in death's unchanging night? How could she give that sunny head, And its soft links of clustering hair, To rest within a coffin bed? How could she leave their beauty there? She took the pale and folded hands Again so fondly in her own ; She numbered o'er the kindly deeds, Which through life's lapses she had known. What would console her when she missed Their out-strjetched welcome at the door, — When their warm greeting and caress Should come to bless her nevermore ? THE WIDOW'S "^ON. 269 What would sustain her when those feet Shall fail at dewy eve to dome, — When their glad echoes should not sound Amid the stillness of their home? When she should yearn, and pray in vain, Only to hear one blessed word Fnmi lips whose tones like music were, — Whose every sound her spirit stirred? Sad, sad and slow the funeral train Departs from the now darkened home — But, hark ! what words of strength and love Upon her soul like balm do come. Who bids her weep for him no more? Who bids the silent sleeper wake? 'Tis He ! the mighty Lord ! whose hand Alone can Death's dark signet break. And gently now life's shadows start Across that pale and youthful face. And lip, and cheek, and manly brow, Resume again their wonted grace. The hands, still wet with many a tear, Give back a welcome fond and true, And smiles are wreathing lips that sobbed, But now, their passionate adieu. 270 THB WIDOW'S SON. Joy to thee, mother ! those young feet Go back with thee unto thine home ; Joy to thee ! that unto thine house The Lord of life and light did come. He placed within thine empty arms Thy breathing, living, speaking child, And gave unto thy stricken heart The love that all thy hours beguiled. Sing high His holy praise by day, — Repeat it under starlit skies. And over Tabor's towering might Let it like sweetest insence rise ; And sounding down through ages vast, Shall float its echoes clear and sweet, With memories of the blessed time When sorrow with such joy did meet. Oh ! in the regions of the blest. Shall not the Master's hand restore To many weeping mothers' arms, The children who have gone before? Sad heart! be patient — life is short, And Heaven is an eternity ! He who gave back the widow's son Keeps thy beloved safe for thee. MISSING. I miss from my pathway a voice of love, That ever like music seemed ; A young, bright head, with its shining curls, That ever like sunshine gleamed. I miss a remembered smile whose light, With a fair and kindling grace, Wreathed lip and brow with a beauty rare, And left its unchanging trace. I miss from my pathway a clasping hand. With its pressure so fond and true ; I am thinking sadly upon the time When we murmured our last adieu. I wait and watch for the bounding feet That stand on the threshold no more. While memory numbers, as jewels rare, The echoes she knows are o'er. 272 MISSING. I miss them all, though my soul doth keep Its vigils all tearful and sad ; I snatch no gleam of the youthful head, With its crown of radiance clad. The rosy lips never more do part To utter one blessed word. And silence broods, like a spirit dark, Where glad, homeward steps were heard. Who heareth now those familiar tones? The^ saints and the angels fair, Where falls like the sunlight those parted smiles, Where the pure, white robes shall wear. Where walk those feet in their youth and strength? Through the streets of the blessed land — The land where that kindred hand doth clasp With a joyous and blood-bought band. The land whose beauty shall know no blight, Whose flowers know no decay ; The land where time shall impart no trace As the hours glide calmly away ; Where the sunny head shall lose no light, Nor the flashing eye grow dim ; Where the lips we love shall be taught the strains That are breathed by the seraphim. MISSING. 273 And I hush ray heart to sweet quietude As these thoughts its pulses thrill — With a holy trust and submissive faith I bow to my father's will. For well I know that on some fair day I shall stand by life's crystal tide, And clasp again to my joyful hearty My lost and my glorified. 18 CHARLES DICKENS. He sleeps — whose mighty genius shed Its rays upon the admiring earth ; The magic influence of whose words Lingers by every home and hearth. Wherever the glad sunlight streams, Where snows on downy pinions rest, Beneath the olive and the pine, Regretful hearts their powers attest. He sleeps — whose comprehensive soul Embraced uncounted stores of thought; Who gave to real worth a charm, And life with blessed influence fraught. He touched, he thrilled the human heart With sacred fire — the gift of Heaven — Until it seemed that to his soul A superhuman power was given. CHARLES DICKENS. 275 Though dead, yet shall he ever live, And down Time's rapid, billowy stream, Throughout the ages shall his name. With added lustre brightly gleam. Until the quiet silver stars Shall leave their orbit, and the sky Fold up its canopy of blue. He shall live on — he cannot die. Then bear with slow and reverent step This man of giant mind and power, And think the while how palace grand And cot alike, bewail this hour. Hark ! how his thoughts like armies dwel Upon the hillside — in the vale — And touch with happy light the brows Which weary care and grief assail. Lay him to rest where the long lines Of rank and genius slumber well; Where the tall marble proudly stands Its record of rare works to tell ; Where caskets of immortal minds. Robbed of their jeweled heritage. Calmly await the coming time When death no more its war shall wiige. 276 CHARLES DICKENS. Lay him to rest where regal heads Lie crownless, and unheeding all ; Where silence folds its mystic robes Around them like a shadowy pall. Garments of purple may not win Such memories as for him we keep, Nor call so sad a requiem forth, Above their calm, unbroken sleep. Lay him to i:est where poets sleep, Who sang the world's enduring songs - The cadence of whose wondrous strains A grateful earth with pride prolongs. Gently around the hallowed spot Floats their remembered minstrelsy ; Like them, he breathed his spirit forth, And won an immortality. Lay him amid the good and great. The lights of many a vanished age ; His country claims him, and his fame Is her own brilliant heritage. Footsteps from every clime shall come — Those by his tender fancies taught. Shall linger round the sacred shrine With memories green, that wither not. CHARLES DICKENS. 277 Receive him then, ye mighty dead ! He eomes unto you crowned — his name Re-echoes grandly through the land, And in the highest niche of fame He stands forever. Time may dim The radiant light of noble deeds ; But with fresh laurels for his grave, No coming year its course impedes. Receive the still, unconscious heart, Bereft of every glorious thought ; Take the hushed lips, whose spoken word To earth their rich, rare beauty taught. Give sweetest rest to the crossed hands, And to the pillowed manly head ; While the wide world shall strew its flowers Above the brow of England's dead. THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. She stood before the haughty one^ with firm, unswerving heart, For vainly fell the menial's words that bade her thence depart ; Not with a glad and bounding step — not with youth's fairest glow — The silver hair and pallid cheek told their own tale of woe. ''Woman, what would'st thou? Why art herc?'^ spake he of iron mould ; And, with a flash, his piercing eye its proud defiance told: " I crave the pardon of my lord — whom thou in chains dost hold — Look ! mark ye well my agony ! my tears and prayers behold !" THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 279 " Hear me ! Thou hast a gentle wife ! Hast loved her long and well — ^ The sweetest music of thy life from her soft accents fell; Picture her agony, if thou beneath the axe should stand — Thy life's-blood gushing out where strikes the heads- man's gory hand ! " Thou art a father, and hast loved thy children's fond caress ; Hast kissed with pride each sunny brow, and smoothed each silken tress ; Hast listened to the rosy lips that breathed a cliildish prayer, Asking our Father — thine and mine — for his protect- ing care." "Woman, away!" rang harshly out. "No! by thy iiope of Heaven, By love thou bearest Him on high; Desmond must be forgiven ! My sons are brave — they'll honor thee — their future lives are thine — In every hope, in every prayer, we will thy name entwine." 280 THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. Stern and unmoved, with rigid brow, he sat in regal state, Unheeding still her stricken heart — her home so desolate ; Till fiercely, merciless, he cried: '' Woman, I tell thee — No! Depart unto thy home! my hand shall conquer every foe I" "Then by the memory of the blood that flowed at White- hall, hear" — A murmur through the courtiers ran ; a hush thro' very fear. "Woman!" he cried: "Go thou in peace, thy husband shall be free ! Thy love hath saved him — daring all — few, few, have loved like thee !" MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY. It came amid the sweet September hours, When mellowed radiance kindled o'er the earth, — When the glad beauty of this world of ours Seemed from the upper clime to take its birth. And yet its light seemed veiled in sombre sorrow — A stillness and deep shadow dwelt around ; Nor could my spirit from Hope's fair light borrow One ray to make its sadness less profound. For, oh, I missed that head of silvery whiteness ! Those dear, white locks — they come before me now, Seeming a crown of glory in their brightness — Resting so stilly o'er that calm, high brow. I missed the lips that had such pleasant tone ; Their wonted blessing came not — their fond j)rayer; Throughout my life their music I had known — It made as gossamer each cloud and care. 282 ■ MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY. I missed the wonted smiles from eyes beloved, — The warm, glad welcome from his clasping hand That had so oft its faith and fervor proved, — No heart could e'er its kindlings withstand. I looked so vainly for those homeward feet ; I sighed for their return — oh, faithless heart ! Gazing so often o'er the lengthened street. Where I should know them from the world apart. I thought, perchance, to find him by the tomb, Where those we love find sweet and pleasant rest ; It seemed to me that there could be no gloom If that dear form lay gently on earth's breast. Vain was my longing search — he was not there; But to my heart there came a voice of love, Whose wondrous sweetness seemed to fill the air, And win my spirit to the clime above. There, there I found him by the throne of God ; I hear his triumph song, by angels led; I saw the shining streets his feet had trod, — The starry crown on his beloved head. MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY. 283 And 'mid the countless throng of the redeemed That circled round Jehovah's great white throne, To my rapt soul no voice of sweetness seemed More sweet than that my vanished life had known. Not to the walks of life, where countless feet Fail on the rugged and the thorny track ; Not even to make my happiness complete Shall one rebellious wish e'er call him back. But on some coming day, when with crossed hands, I sleep the sleep that knows no waking hour, Our Father ! may Thy waiting angel bands Bear me to him — beyond Death's mighty power. THE RED RIBBON. Inscribed to all who wear it. Three cheers for the royal ribbon ! With promises brave and true, Like the stars of our country's banner It brightens the world anew. Where commerce is busy, and labor Is crowned with a manly grace. In homes and streets and in churches, Its glorious signal we trace. It tells of a soul's endeavor To cast off a deadly chain ; Of war against sin and evil, Of hopes that blossom again. It tells us of brows grown peaceful, Of eyes that will wear new light ; Of happiness round the hearth-stone, Where the glowing fire is bright. THE RED RIBBON. 285 It tells us — God bless it forever — That man, in His image made, Shall lift up the trace of the author At the tempter's altar laid ; And 'neath the blue skies of Heaven, In an added strength shall stand. As one stood in the bowers of Eden, With life from the Master's hand. Stand firm ! oh, stand firm, my brother! Stand in your freedom and peace ! Proclaim to the world your purpose, Your noble resolve and release. Go forth in the streets and highways, In mercy, where guilt once led. And wear, as a manly breast-plate, The royal ribbon of red. We shall hear the glad rejoicings, And the sad and tearful eyes Shall look up in the blessed sunlight, Where no weary shadow lies. And the ribbon of red shall usher The grand and glorious time, W^hen earth shall be fair and ennobled With rapture and joy sublime. 386 THE RED RIBBON. God bless the " Red Ribbon " forever ! And strengthen each heart that wears This token of high endeavor, Upheld by its hopes and prayers, God bless the " Red Ribbon " forever ! Encompass the faltering feet, Till they stand on the Hills Eternal, With victory all complete. ONE YEAR IN HEAVEN. One year Since the dear voice grew silent here, — Since her sweet accents echoed 'round — Sweet words! that love so fondly crowned. Like rays of the departing day, Gently and calm they passed away ; When entered through the gates of gold, The purest lamb amidst the fold. One year Since the young eyes, with vision clear, Closed ; and the lashes, long and brown. On the fair cheek were folded down. We missed the sunshine which they shed ; Our paths were darkened when it fled ; Heaven had so much — why cannot we Even now its beauty round us see? 288 ONE YEAR IN HEAVEN. One year Since gentle hands were busy hei'e With their sweet ministry of love ; With every passing hour inwove. Such patient hands ! God loved them best ; And so, to calm and pleasant rest We left them — sorrowing when the lid Away from us their beauty hid. One year Since, dimmed with many a tear, Our eyes looked lovingly the last, Where, with all pain and suffering past. Reposed a graceful, childish head Upon its snowy coffin bed. A radiance from the holy hill — God's suushine — lingered o'er it still. One year Where skies -are ever fair and clear, Beyond the glory of the stars. Where not a passing shadow mars; Where beauty lingers 'round her way ; And where the light of perfect day Makes glorious all the golden hours That fleetly pass in Eden bowers. ONE YEAR IN HEAVEN 289 One year Without a sorrow or a tear ; One year with Jesus — at His side, — Ransomed, redeemed, and glorified ; Never from the safe fold to stray ; Never to walk in thorny way. Oh, happy thou ! so loved and dear, To wear the crown in Heaven one year. 19 ALL THINGS PRAISE HIM. " All Thy works do praise Thee, O Lord." Rosy morning with its ray Deepening into perfect day ; Noontide, with its fervid heat, Gleaming o'er the busy street ; Twilight, with its low, sweet tone. Breathing to the soul alone ; Midnight deep and dark — all bear Traces of His love and care. Gentle Spring-time, green and fair; Summer with its balmy air. And its voice of whispering leaves — Telling what the heart believes; Gorgeous Autumn, banner crowned, Strewing trophies all around ; Winter, with its icy seal, — His great power and love reveal. ALL THINGS PRAISE HIM. 291 In the violet's placid eye, Gazing calmly on the sky; In the rose's rich perfume, — In all flowers that brightly bloom ; In the towering forest tree, Filled with nature's minstrelsy; On each bud, and leaf, and blade, God's omnipotence is laid. Mighty ocean, with its breast White with many a foamy crest ; Dashing, surging, sweeping on. Chimes in glorious unison, As its billows rave and swell. With the voices, which all tell, Through each passing hour, how high Is the power they deify. Rippling voice from wave and rill ; Beauty o'er the vale and hill ; Shining stars, with golden crown. Gazing ever watchful down, — Seeming quietly to shrine. In their gleaming, truths divine. With a ceaseless voice all tell That " He doeth all thinss well." 292 ALL THINGS PRAISE HIM. Every hour of happiness That life's onward way doth bless ; Every thrilling dream of love Is an echo from above, Emanating from the soul Of the omnipresent whole — He whose praise the universe Doth in glorious strains rehearse. All is beauty — even now, With the sunlight on my brow, Looking round — below, above, On such traces of His love ; — Even now, my soul would fain Soar above, where angels reign,— More of its high source to know Than my spirit finds below. If thus fair our world was made. With such radiance overlaid ; If across the wakened soul, Here such thrills of rapture roll, — What must that home of glory be, Where beauty lives eternally ? And not a dimming shadow steals Amid the splendor God reveals. HOPE. Hope? radiant Hope! that glideth along With a stej) so light and a lip of song, Enwreathed with garlands of buds of flowers, Casting rich sunlight o'er future hours, What dost thou bring for the sons of earth ? Is it jewels and treasures of untold worth, Or the the false, whose brightness will surely fade When Reality's test upon each is laid? "I bring to earth the enrapturing dream. Tinged with the glories which round me beam ; And brilliant visions of happy days Grow brighter from light that round me plays. My moments are jeweled — my hours of gold, As gently my promises all are told ; And I weave for each mortal a fabric bright. Whose rainbow hues gild the darkest night. 294 HOPE. " For the monarch's brow I've a richer crown Than that which presses so heavily down ; And through my vista he oft doth trace The lengthened train of his noble race. I never will whisper how dark and drear Is the dungeon and prison, so often near To the feet that thread to the dizzy height, Where fame and ambition so oft invite. " For the warrior brave, I have victory's note, Triumphant on many a breeze to float; The sunny light on unconquered hills, The unchecked streams and the gushing rills, And peaceful homes for the brave and free, Where the tyrant's footsteps may never be ; A quiet rest for the household hearth, Crowned with the laurels of noble worth. " For the heart that loves I am bearing a spell, Holier far than the lip may tell ; Sacred the dreams which my hand doth bring, Fairy the garlands I round it fling. I would the future might never eftace The rosy light that my footsteps trace ; That the ebbing tide of affection's flow. No wasted treasures shall sadly show. IKH'K. 295 "For the mother a fairy tissue I f)ring, Woven with hues of the early spring; Weh^ome ea(h whispered promise shall be, For the ehild that kneels at her parent knee. I will plaee on the upturned infant brow The jeweled crown to which mortals bow ; And joy shall beam on Iut gentle face. As the unseen "utiire I fondly trace. " For the lone and sorrowful one I beai- A token to cham from ea<,'h toil and fiirc ; A cheering ligh for the darkened home, Where echoes oi joyfulness never conic. The widowed hurt shall be glad again, And wreathing fniles deck the brow <>l' p:iin ; While the orpha's path I will brightly bles." With visions of :indred tenderness. " For the Christia:, a crowd that .shall never fade, At the Saviour's 'eet to be joyfully laid ; Angelic pinions nd harps of gold, Where love's swet melody all is told. Rest for the timi and wearied feet, To wander in jo; o'er each golden street; And calm reposeibr the earth-tossed heart That bears in th of Heaven I cling. THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. Thou! who dwellest around the hearth, Where ringeth voices of household mirth; Where childhood's fairy and graceful form Is sheltered well from the pitiless storm. Think of the homeless, whose darkened way Knoweth no gleaming of coming day ; Think of the hungry and desolate poor Knocking so meekly without your door. Turn not from words that are suffering's own — From sorrows thy pathway hath never known ; Heed thou the heart's impassionate wail — No woe like this doth thy life assail. Close not thy door on the empty hand, As hoping and fearing they still do stand; — Only our Father knows what the poor, Through the wintry storm and the cold endure. 298 THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. Let the deep prayer from thy heart go up To God, who fiUeth with sweets thy cup ; Praise him at morning, at noon and night, Thankfully ever such love requite. And turn thou then, with a loving heart. To the paths that in happiness bear no part, — To those whose lot is to need and endure, — The home of the friendless and suffering poor. Seek for the sad and the widowed heart — Thy cheering presence will hope impart; Lips that blest her now silent lie. Recking naught of her agony. Never dreamed she of days so drear. When that strong right arm was ever near. Soothe thou the weary and desolate moan, — Around the throne shall that deed be known. Seek for the lonely and orphaned head. O'er its dimmed brightness a blessing to shed ; Seek for the weary and wandering feet. Roaming afar o'er the drear cold street. Feed thou the hungry and famishing one. Wishing so vainly life's dreary race run ; Only thy accents in love to be heard. Speak but the gentle encouraging word. THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. 299 Give thou ! oh give — when cometh the hour That the clouds of sorrow around thee lower, God will uphold thee with his strong love, Showering rich benefits from above Unto thy basket and unto thy store, Adding, in mercy, still more and more. Hath He not said it ? His promise sure. Through time and eternity shall endure. THE REWARD OF FAITH. Over the valley and hill they sped, — The father and his boy — and the long hours Merged into days ere far Moriah's height Loomed up before their vision. Now they pause, ^And with a trembling voice the weary sire Bids those whose love had guarded well the child To leave him. Hither had their footsteps come To oifer sacrifice unto their God — A holy incense to His glorious name ; And he would be alone save with his boy. " My father," spake the child, " I see the wood And fire, but yet I do not see the lamb For the burnt offering." 'Round the father's heart Cold icy fingers seemed to cluster fast, As he replied in tones all tremulous: " My sou, our God himself provides a lamb." THE REWARD OF FAITH. 301 Childlike and trustful, farther spake he not, But with blithe footsteps, wandering round. His little hands were busy as they moved In mimic toil to rear an altar shrine. How should his father tell him God's command; How tell him that his young unsullied life Must be the sacrifice? At last he spake, And all his life-long agony was naught Compared to that which crushed his spirit now. "My son — my darling one — thou art the lamb God doth provide a sacrifice to be ; And could my life save thine, this very hour With joy and gladness I would die for thee. My days arc many ; thy rosy hours Have been but few ; and I had fondly hoped That thou wouldst bless my life and close my eyes When earth had faded from my mortal sight. Thy God and mine hath chosen thee; he calls His precious gift I hailed so gladly, back. Come, my own boy ; the altar waits for thee. Think thou how God doth love thee, thus to call Thy youth-time, with its radiant beauty, home." The boy looked on his sire with fear and awe, His childish soul shrank from the gleaming knife And the rough cords that bound unto the wood; Yet, with a gentle trust and yielding love, 302 THE REWARD OF FAITH. He gave himself unto his father's arms. How weak had grown that cold and trembling hand, As now he binds his boy's young feet with cords — Those pattering feet ! whose every step and sound Had been such blessed music to his ear ; Following where'er he went, from early morn Till homeward at the evening-time he came. And those dear hands ! that oft unto his home Had brought their loving gifts of bud and flowers, Clinging to his in many a pleasant walk ! And now a purple hue steals o'er them — The tightening pressure checks the current's flow, And all is ready. The sad Patriarch's heart Grows strangely strong, and with uplifted eye, Asking for strength to do his Father's will. The fatal knife is quickly raised on high. " Abraham ! Abraham ! " The gleaming blade Hath fallen from out that father's hand like light. "Touch not the lad, for now I surely know Thou lovest me, and hast not e'en withheld Thy son, the idol of thy loving heart. Release thy child, another offering waits." Was it a dream — a bright, delusive dream — That waited but to mock his hoping heart ? Oh, no ! oh, no ! and as he quickly gave THE REWARD OF FAITH. 303 Each tender limb to its free life again, He felt how real God's great goodness was. 5jC 5jC ^ ijC 5jC Jji ifC Homeward, with quickened step, they took their way, Father and son — faithful and given back — Until Beersheba met their longing gaze, Where well they knew a loving mother kept Her faithful vigil for the absent twain ; Where they did tell in joy, with tearful eyes. Of the rich mercy from Jehovah's hand. TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 'My Shepherd is the gracious Lord, Who rules and reigns above ; Therefore my spirit shall not want, Encircled by His love. Green pastures gives He for my rest, And by the waters still He leadeth me with kindly hand. His promise to fulfill. And should my soul rebellious grow, Anti stray o'er thorny track, — To peaceful paths of righteousness He calls me ever back. Not for my merits — undeserved — Save for His own name's sake. My willing feet with joy again Their onward pathway take. TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. :505 Yea, though I tread the darkened vale, Where clinging shadows throng, Still will my trusting spirit raise Its happy, pilgrim song. No evil will I fear, dear Lord, Thou wilt be with me there, — Thy rod and staff will comfort me — My comfort still Thy care. A table Thou preparest for me. Whereon my foes may gaze, — Still wondering at Thy tender care That brightens all my days. With oil Thou dost anoint my head llicher than Aaron's share, — While precious hands rest fondly down, And leave a blessing there. My cup overflows with riche^;, Lord, And thus 't will ever be — Goodness and mercy from Thy hand Will surely follow me. Dwelling in Time, in temples fair, To sing Thy praises given, Until my feet tread higher courts Within the gates of Heaven. Peoria, Ilunois. 20 TO MARY GIBSON GUIS WOLD, On her Sixteenth Birthday. The angels poise above thy head The crown of womanhood so fair, And soon with hopes fresh garlanded, Its sunny grace shall linger there ; For when thou nuniberest o'er to-day The radiant summers thou hast seen ; Retracing many a pleasant way, Thy happy years are just sixteen. Just sixteen years of joyous life ! Of sunshine with no shadow near — Of hours with fond affection rife — Of sunny smiles, with scarce a tear. Just sixteen years of watch and ward. Such as Love giveth to its own, — Such as Earth's favored ones do guard,- This hath thy young life only known. TO MARY GIBSON ORIS WOLD. 307 The rosy hours of childhood still Wear for thee all their sunny rays ; The fragrance of its flowers will fill Life's censer, brightening all thy days, And memory, with her pencil true, Shall keep sweet tokens of the time When Earth seemed clad in Heaven's hue, And Hope sang out her sweetest chime. I send upon this happy day. To thee the wishes of my heart, That God may guide thy future way. And to thee choicest bliss impart ; That when the crown which waits e'en now In angels' hands for thy young head, Shall lose its light upon thy brow, A fairer one shall gleam instead. SHE HATH PASSED AWAY. "Like the lost Pleiad, seen on earth no more.". She hath passed away From her cheerful home, — from her wonted place, That keeps of the lost one full many a trace ; The vacant chair, and the silent room, Gather around them a deepening gloom ; And the memory of accents once uttered there Is clothed in a mantle of dark despair. She hath passed away From the heart whose affections seem ever hid 'Neath the quiet hush of the coffin's lid, — Who mourneth the light of the household gone, And wildly longeth to look upon The silent lips and the changeless brow, Darkened forever in shadows now. SHE HATH PASSED AWAY. 309 She hath passed away From the child, who never on earth may know Her gentle teachings and accents low ; He will not remember the little prayer That her lips have taught him to utter there; Nor how she knelt at his rosy rest To tell the tales that he loved the best. She hath passed away, And the shining curls of her baby fair May rest no more in their beauty rare, On the sheltering arm never more be pressed With a warm delight to that mother's breast ; — Silent, unheeding, and chill, the heart That deemed love of life the fairest part. She hath passed away From the father who loved her ; the mother, whose eye Was the guiding star of her infancy ; From the sister, whose childhood and youth sped by 'Neath the hallowed light of the same blue sky ; From the fearless brother, so fond and brave. Far, far away on the crested wave. 310 SHE HATH PASSED AWAY. She hath passed away From the beauty and brightness that deck the earth,- From its voices of music and happy mirth. Oh ! how can the sun deck valley and hill When that lip of melody lies so still? How can the floweret in gladness bloom When that eye is dim in the voiceless tomb ? She hath passed away From every sorrow and wearisome pain, And her soul shall know no fetter again ; Care shall not darken her cloudless brow -^ It gleameth in light with the angels now ; Nor Time in its onward march ever shed A. changing trace o'er that sunny head. She hath passed away With a seraph's pinion to ypn bright world, Where love's shining banner is wide unfurled. She walks in triumph the golden streets, While the anthem of Heaven her spirit greets ; To the light and life of a fadeless day She hath passed away, — she hath passed away. NEVERMORE. Nevermore Shall I sec the glance of that sealed eye That 'neath Death's shadows in rest doth lie. I shall look in vain for the living light, Deeply enshrouded in darkest night, — For the sunny smile and the spirit's trace, Clothing with beauty the pallid face. Nevermore, For I folded it over the silent breast. Shall that greeting hand to my own be pressed. In the vanished hours how it welcomed me, Wearing fresh garlands for memory ; Oh ! gentle hands, will ye nevermore Meet me with joy at the opened door? 312 NEVERMORE. Nevermore Shall I hear the fall of those quiet feet. How often their echoes my soul did greet As we wandered so lovingly o'er life's way, Nearer and dearer each changing day ; Silent and pale in their rest they lie, Sad traces of earth's mortality. Nevermore Shall the ills of life o'ershadow that brow — It is crowned with the angels in glory now ; We smoothed, all tearful, that shining hair. And thought of the beauty that face would wear, When unto the lip and the cheek is given The radiant light of unclouded Heaven. Nevermore Shall the loving fade from thy side away. When they find thy home in eternal day ; Each shining link of love's jeweled chain. The hand of our Father shall gather again 'Mid the light and the life of that fadeless shore, Gaining new brightness forevermore. THE INNER WORLD. 'The soul's world, where change is not." — HEMANt.. It is a fair and sunny clime, Lit up by fadeless light, It knoweth not earth's changing day, Its weird and solemn night; And soundeth ever joyfully, Hope's sweet and silvery chime, That ringeth blessed changes out Amidst the hours of Time. Blue are the skies that o'er it bend So lovingly and fond, That the charmed eye could never ga>ce Their radiance beyond ; It circles all the heart would know, Enshrines a mystery Unending as the future bound Of man's eternity. 314 THE INNER WORLD. Thought, like a spirit, hovers round Its portals fair and bright, And to its strange, unfathomed depths, Love's presence doth invite A welcome guest, to whom is reared A deathless, holy shrine. Lit up by influences that make It seem almost divine. And Memory comes with gentle step. And lingers at Love's side, To garner up the oiferings rich. Which it hath glorified ; She giveth brightness to fond smiles. And beauty to each word, That falling from beloved lips. Our spirit's depths have stirred. A fairy Springtime lingers there, And Summer's golden hours Glow 'neath a radiant coronal Of never-fading flowers. The storm-cloud comes not — the stern chill Of wmter's icy day Stills not its music — as the hours Glide placidly away. THE INNER WORLD. 315 The inner world ! ah, who may know Its bounds, mysterious, deep ; What human thought can fathom it, Or o'er it vigils keep. No tyrant footstep enters there, No hands its idols mar. Nor in its blue, o'ershading sky, Obscure one shining star. The inner world ! So fair, so free, It spurns each stern control, Yet owns the guidance of the love That fills a kindred soul. Kept only for His loving eye, Who judgeth all aright. The busy world may never read, Its records clear and bright. OUR SOLDIERS. God protect them ! * In the joyous rosy morning, In the fervid noontide hour; When the gentle twilight falleth With its sweet and soothing power. When the golden stars are shining, Keeping watch and ward on high ; When the midnight doth enshroud them With its veil of mystery. God protect them ! When they walk amid green valleys ; When they tread the mountain's side ; When their footsteps have grown weary, And their brave hearts sore and tried. When fatigue, with clutching fingers, Shall assail their spirit strings. And a cloud seems gathering darkly O'er earth's best and brightest things. OUR SOLDIERS. 317 God protect them ! ^ When with souls undaunted, fearless, To the battle-field they go; When they stand amid red carnage, Hand to hand with fiercest foe. Shield them from the speeding missile, From the aim of vengeful wrath, From the fierce shot, streaming, pouring, Falling darkly 'round their path. God protect them ! When among the warring legions Floats the winged shadow by. And the shriek of mortal anguish Rises mornfully on high; When upon the greensward sinketh Manly forms — to rise no more. And strong hands grew pale — to give back Kindly pressure nevermore. God protect them ! If their faithful feet shall falter 'Mid the battle's cloud of flame, And their pallid lips shall murmur. With a blessing, some dear name. Soothe their pillow, — keep beneath them Guardian arms of His strong love: Woo their dimming eye to gaze on Radiant, peaceful homes above. 318 OUR SOLDIERS. \ God protect them ! Give them victory, — give them triumph; Crown their brows with laurels fair ; Guide their homeward steps in safety, With their spirits free from care. Then upon our hills unconquered, Dove-like peace shall fold her wing, And our Union, firm, unbroken, Be a holy, sacred thing. MEMORIAL DAY. May 30th, 1879. Flowers of the Spring-time ! blossoms of May ! Come with your beauty and fragrance to-day ! Roses, twice royal upon the fresh air Breathe out so gently your gracious life there. Hasten, ye violets ! tender and true — Lilies, your white waxen petals renew ! Laurel and myrtle and jessamine fair, In love's sweet mission your bloom hath a share. Come to the hillside, where sire and where son Sleep in calm glory, with war's conflicts don(\ Hasten our soldiers' deep slumbers to crown, Won on the battle-field, clad with renown ; Come from the lofty height — come from the vale, Perfumes unrivalled, and pureness exhale. Sparkling with jewels of Heaven's clear dew, Crown them with gladness and splendor anew. 320 MEMORIAL DAY. Wave 'neath the azure, ye banners so bright! Hymns of devotion and valor recite ! Tell to the world how our heroes have died, Bearing your colors aloft in their pride. Tell it by shore and by murmuring sea ! Tell it where manhood is noble and free ! Your prestige and grandeur no dark shadow raars,- Tell the glad tidings, ye Stripes and ye Stars. There are tears to-day for the patriots dead, By their grass-grown graves they are sadly shed ; And memory calls them to come once more From the silent land and the voiceless shore. They come ! they come ! — by our side they stand, Our " Boys in Blue," with their purpose grand ; The kindling light is on brow and cheek. And wakened lips their devotion speak. There are tears to-day — as m'c number o'er Bayonets and glittering swords once more, And we see the ranks as they pass in pride, — Every lip and brow by love sanctified. While the sounding drums and the banners bright, Arouse each heart to a glowing might; And we bless them all as they march away, While the waving colors around them play. MEMORIAL DAY. 321 Brave and determined, they onward go, With no cowering fear of a hostile foe; And with prowess grand, and courage high, They win proud names that cannot die. There were manly forms that return no more; There were gallant brows, which no years restore; There were flashing eyes — now they lustre lack, — And faithful feet that come never back. But hero in the sunny slope they rest. And we scatter flowers o'er each loyal breast, Within the sound of their own loved home. Where the stars that shone o'er their boyhood come; And with martial honors and tearful pride We laid them tenderly side by side, Where the light of aifection memory holds, And wraps the brave in her fadeless folds. And so there are tears as we come to-day Our tribute of love and thanks to pay. We know that the conflict and march are done, — That strife is ended and peace is won ; We know they were heroes — in danger true — That never a shadow of fear they knew ; Yet the tears will fall as to-day we stand By the silent graves of our soldier band. ;i22 MEMORIAL DAY. All! sweet they sleep on the hillside green! Years come ; years go ; yet they sleep serene ; Sorrows of earth, which the living know, Across their slnmbers no shadows throw. There is no grief for the qniet heart, — In pain and angnish it has no part; Encompassed ever by watch and ward — By sheltering wings of an angel guard. Nature, with faithl'ul and living trace, In sweetest ministry brings her grace; Tireless and true (h)(h she gladly come In every season to their low home. She never fails in the early spring Her oiVering of wakened life to bring, — And the touch of her pencil is ever seen In the violet blue and leaves of orecn. She brings the roses of sunnner there, And sunset hues of the autumn's share; She covers, in winter, the russet glow, With the stainless wings of the [)ure white snow; While lie who noteth the sparrow's fall, With loving care doth enfold them all; And the glancing light of omniscient eyes Looks still on each faithful sai'rilice. MEMORIAL DAY. 32a Rest well, rest well, oh ! ye fallen brave, Large was the oifering your manhood gave. Throughout the borders of freedom's Land, Your names like a glorious beacon stand. Rest well — till on some memorial day, With the stone of the sepulchre moved away, We shall wake in the light of Eternal Spring, Where no deepening shadows around you cling. To-day I think that the ang^^l on high, Who keeps the record as Time goes by, Looks back o'er tlie pages of vanished years, Some fair and stainless — some dim with tears. He pauses where battle-fields, one by one, Are glowing with traces of duties done; And ponders long where each gallant deed Hath won for our soldiers a peerless meeil. And e'er the record is closed again. With untold memories of joy and pain. He writeth thus with his glistening pen, Of lives which ennoble their fellow men : " He who hath offered his life — his all — For his country's sake — at the nation's call; Though he sleeps in death, or in life doth stand, I write him faithful, and true, and grand." ON THE HILLSIDE. On the hillside sleeps my darling, Where all things are bright and fair, — Yet the breezes wandering o'er it Lift no curl of his brown hair. On the hillside sleeps my darling, Where sweet strains of music come — Strains he loved — and yet their sweetness W^ake him not in his low tomb. No glad smile lights up his features, Save the one that lingered there When his spirit passed to heaven, To his loving Savior's care. • His sealed eyes look not a w^elcome When fond footsteps linger near; Kindred hand gives never greeting, Closed ears no dear words hear. ON THE HILLSIDE. 325 Faithful feet so often wander To the hillside where he sleeps; And a pure and fond affection Round his rest its vigil keeps. Waiting, watching, thinking ever Of the slumbering, youthful head — Of thy bygone hours, whose moments Gleam with memories of our dead. And my heart, so weak, so human, Yearns to see him at my side. Faithless heart! in its forgetting, He hath crossed the swelling: tide. He hath gone from care and sorrow,- He hath gone where Jesus is ; Joyous 'mid the angel legions — 'Mid the heavenly harmonies. Thus I hush each vain repining. Calm each wish opposed to Him, Who controlled all things wisely, Though our vision is so dim. ;?26 ON THE HILLSIDE. t Thus I give him back my darling, Whose young hfe was linked with mine,- Give him back to Thee, my Savior — He hath known no love like thine. Fold him closely in thy dear arras, — Hold his head on thy pure breast, Where the wanderer and the weary Find a sweet, unchanging rest. Never more would I recall him Back to earth, whose smiles and tears With their alternations grieve us, — Thine through the eternal years ! With the summer's wealth of fragrance We will crown his dreamless rest, — Love will keep its tireless virgil O'er our early crowned and blest. Stream around it, cheerful sunshine — Showers and dews fall gently there. Come, oh ! Spring, with gentle violet. Hither bring thy offerings fair. ON THE HILLSIDE. 327 Watching stars, whose eyes of glory Look so calmly, purely down Through the lonely hush of midnight, Deck it as with golden crown. And what wonder if ye see there Glittering hues of purest dew, — For our darling's missing presence Shall not nature sorrow too? AN APPEAL FOR THE LETTER CARRIERS. To our homes the welcome letters Come so surely day by day ; Faithful carriers — morn and evening — Scatter blessings 'round our way. Nothing hinders their fleet footsteps, As they take their wonted round, Guarding well the white-winged missives In their strong protection found. Though the summer sun so fiercely Sheds its rays upon each head, And across each measured pathway Heated, scorching gleams are shed ; Still unheeding, come they surely With the letters — looked for — dear ; Bringing to us blessed tidings. Words of hope, and love, and cheer. AN APPEAL FOR THE LETTER CARRIERS. 329 Though the rain falls down in torrents, And the sunlight fades away ; Though the winds are loudly raging, Drear the morn, and dark the day ; Still unto our homes so sheltered, Where the cheering light gleams out, Comes the carrier — with firm spirit. Treading o'er his leny:thened route. Though the snows of winter gather Faster and faster 'round his path, And the ice-king with his fetters Binds the earth in very wrath. Though the lips and brow grow rigid, And strong hands, like death, are chilled; Yet the faithful feet press onward, Patient and unyielding still. Ye, who by the pleasant fireside. Know not winter's bitter hour; Ye, whose homeward steps are quickened By sweet thoughts of its own power. Will you not, with hand of bounty, Show a grateful, thankful heart. And in ministry of mercy, Bear a noble, God-like part? 330 AN APPEAL FOE THE LETTER CARRIERS. When the Christmas time shall greet you — When its anthems rise on high ; When sweet voices echo 'round you, As bright eyes new gifts descry ; Then remember, oh ! remember. This untiring, noble band ; Let no hand remain unopened. Let no hearts their chains withstand. CHRISTMAS CAROL. Down through the vanished ages, Along the shores of time, We hear the " old, old story," Like some melodious chime. Millions of silent voices Have sung that glorious hymn ; Glad eyes have caught its rapture, Whose light in death is dim. The old, the grand old story, Of our dear Savior's birth ; The light — divine and holy — Which cheered the darkened earth. Jesus! who came to save us, In pity and in love, — Who wore the robe of mortals, With pain and care inwove. 332 CHRISTMAS CAROL. To-day we stand with shepherds Beneath Judea's skies, — We hear from heaven's high portals Triumphant strains arise. We watch the star, whose beauty Doth guide us safely where, With deepest awe and wonder. We find Messiah there. Within a lowly manger Is cradled His dear head, — In poverty and suflPering His infant tears are shed. Oh, earth ! is this the welcome To your Redeemer given ? Is this your royal greeting To Christ, the King of Heaven? Dear Savior, ever blessed ! Upon this day of days. We come with loud hosannas To sing Thy noblest praise. We look from earthly places. Where Thy pure feet have trod, And hail Thee in Thy glory — Ascendine: Lord and God. LINES. Inscribed to my uncle, Hon. John McKeynolds, on his ninety-first birthday. Ninety-one years since the sunlight First shone on thy infant brow, And thine eyes looked out on the now world, Strange happiness to avow. Since thy hand, so untired with burdens, Reached forth in its new-found power; While hearts were happy and cheerful, Each hailing thy natal hour. Ninety-one years! — and thy pathway Has blossomed with hope's glad flowers ; Love twined its fair brightness around thee, Encircling thy happiest hours. Fair childhood and youth — noble manhood, And age with its coronal fair, Have walked with thee over lii'e's pathway, And sheltered thine hours with fond care. 334 LINES. Ninety-one years ! ah, how many Fair brows have grown pale in these hours; How many dear lips have grown silent, And rest 'neatli the pure summer flowers. Yet thou, like the oak of the forest. Stand still in thy manhood sublime ; Tho' thine eyes, looking sadly around thee, With tears trace the footsteps of time. God bless thee ! forever and ever ; And still may His high, bounteous hand Encompass thy life with rich blessings. Which fall, like the dew, from His hand. Still, still may His sunshine fall o'er thee, And flowers blossom fairly and sweet; Still making thy heart in its freshness For His own blessed mansion so meet. And when to thy pillow the angel Shall come with a summons of love, May thou pass through the radiant portal To a rest that is sweeter above, — Where thy years will glide onward and onward, With the loved who have passed on before. And never a tear or a sorrow Be thine on eternity's shore. IN THE HOSPITAL. What is his name? I know it not — yet some one far away Loves him — and of his agony to-day No thought doth frame. This pallid brow My hand shall soothe to charm away the pain, Winning a blessed calmness there again, To bless me now. These sad, sad eyes. With light so broken in the battle's storm, Weary with looking for a wonted form, Look their surprise. Lips parched and pale, — May I not win from them some little word — Some name, amid life's hours of brightness heard In home's sweet vale? 336 IN THE HOSPITAL. V And fevered hand ! May I not give thee from my strength and life? Palsied amid the battle's fearful strife As thou did'st stand. Fast throbbing heart ! Bounding with fever's rapid, scorching glow, That no repose or quietude doth know — In health no part. Shall I not calm Thy quick pulsation — sooth each fitful start, And bring again to thee a blessed part Of peace and balm ! These wearied feet, — Oh ! be it mine to win them gently back To their accustomed ward upon life's track, With strength replete. No power is mine. Savior, to thee I look for strength and aid, — Oh ! be thy healing hand upon him laid, Strong and divine. IN THE HOSPITAL. :«7 Call back again To manhood's noble strenj^th this wasted form — So shattered 'mid the agony and storm Of fiercest pain. Oh ! envied lot, — To cheer the sick and suffering — and to pallid lips Place the refreshing draught e'er life's eclipse — With blessings fraught. With gentle hand To soothe the fevered brow and aching head; With footsteps light amid sad hearts to tread And faithful stand. Thrice happy they Who walk life's pathway girt about with gleams That bless the merciful — upon whose vision beams Unending day. THE MARRIAGE BELL. Unfold your glory, oh ! ye flowers, Distill your fragrant life above The fair young brow, replete with grace, That wears the crown of happy love. Like showers of blessings gently fall Ai'ound the hearts that beat as one ; "Whose new, unclouded, happy life, With hope and promise has begun. Ring o'er their pathway, " Marriage Bell," Moments of happiness and joy ; Ring in a holy faith and trust, Which time and change may not destroy. Enshrine amid your blossoms pure, Traces of glad and coming years, A low sweet prophecy — which tells Of sunny smiles unmixed with tears. THE MARRIAGE BELL. 339 Life hath to them been full of hours Of light — and pleasure charmed their way ; The sunlight, with its radiant rays, Hath brightened every passing day. Green were the vales and pleasant hills, And fair the skies that o'er them shone, While not a trace of troublous care, Hath their glad spirits known. Even now their lips have spoken words That floated o'er the golden streets — Words which will never cease to sound. With love they fondly did repeat Words uttered low beneath the skies, But heard amid the angels fair. And borne in silence to the Throne, And given unto Jehovah's care. Then ring out sweetly, " Marriage Bell ;'' Swing your glad incense o'er the head Of youth and beauty — only bloom Their happy lives has garlanded. Scatter your perfume, rich and rare. Before the forms of graceful mien ; Leaving thy memory when thy life And wakened grace no more are seen. 310 . THE MARRIAGE BELL. Fair bride! whom love with winning voice To other walks thy steps doth call ; God smile npon each coining year, Whose light and shadow o'er thee fall. God bless thee ever! thee and thine, Surround thee with His kindly care, And lead thee with a loving hand, Where days are bright and angels are. OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. The babe of Bethlehem — whose infant head Was pillowed amid poverty and woe; No gorgeous hangings 'round his manger bed, The warm, rich hues of sheltering comfort show. Shut out from homes where plenty reigned supreme, In meek submission, blessings to resign ; Even Pity hid its warm translucent gleam, And Mercy's blessed light refused to shine. The Man of Sorrows — on whose saddened brow Earth's wearing toil left many a deepened trace ; Humanity's prerogative — for man below — Near thy divinity it hath no place. Thy spirit plumage, pure and white through earth, Bore not a pressure mark of life's unrest — Breathing forever of thy heavenly birth And high perfection, through the fearful test. 342 OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. The Muii of Sorrows — doubted and betrayed, Even by the hearts so near unto thine own — By lips that called thee Master — gently laid Upon a cheek where falsehood was unknown. In the lone garden of Gethseniane, Where blessed angels spread the shining wing, And with their own seraphic ministry, A holy peace unto thy heart did bring. The Crucified — who stood on Calvary's height, Wearied and worn and toiling with the Cross — Triumphant in thine all-enduring might— O'er sin and death and earth's enslaving dross. Stricken and sorrowful thy Father's face On thee with loving smile hath ceased to shine; Oh, Undefiled! in earth or Heaven's high place Was e'er such love and misery as thine? A sleeper 'mid the shadows of the tomb, Laid gently in its quietude to rest, While its deep shadows and abiding gloom Gather above the cold and pulseless breast. The darkened eye gave back no loving liglit, — The gentle hands, with earth's sad misj^ion o'er. Were folded in the rest of Death's dark night, To clasp in direst agony no more. OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. 343 The risen Lord — who burst the icy bars Of the grave's prison; soaring far above The golden glory of the shining stars, Unto the clime of pure, unshadowed love ; Welcomed by angel bands to that blest shore. Where in effulo-ent liy;ht he ever reio-ns ; To take the pilgrim's march of earth no more — To know no more its wanderings and pains. The Mediator — who, with wondrous love, Pleads for the erring at the Father's side, Through ceaseless years its mighty strength to prove, Infinite still, as ages onward glide. Hope of the sad heart — light of dreary ways — Joy of the sorrowful — in death the life — Theme of seraphic legions, whose glad praise Shall sound when earth's dark waves have hushed their strife. The King of Glory, — through the pearly gate, And everlasting doors, he enters in ; While loud hosannas for His coming wait. And glittering harps their brightness flash within. Life's river ripples with a sweeter flow As the All-Father owns His mission done ; The realm of Heaven doth higher glories know In welcoming His well-beloved Son. 344 OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. The King of Glory, — and His banner waves O'er mount and plain, — o'er shore and surging sea; O'er polar lands, where shimmer snowy graves; 'Neath tropic skies, which glare so fearfully. The household shelter in the sunny clime, — The gleaming brightness on the darkened shore, — The whispered key-note of the silvery chime — That summons earth to worship and adore. Strong be the hands that raise each starry fold To plant its standard that the world may see ; Loyal the hearts that with proud strength uphold That blood-bought banner — stamped on Calvary. So shall our earth with one harmonious voice, Shout glad thanksgivings to the King above; Rejoicing more than angels m;iy rejoice Who never sans: His all-rcdeeminir love. NORMAN AND PHILIP BOURLAND. 1873. AiigUHt 2Cth. 1876. Tliroo times have purple violets bloomed Amid the beauty of the Spring, — Lighting the quiet valleys up With Nature's fresh glad offering. Three times the royal rose hath given Its fragrance to the summer air, And lillies with their balmy breath Swept o'er the earth with perfume fair. Three times hath Autumn aloft Her signals tinged with Tyrian dyes, — While mournful winds were floating by, And pale and pensive grew the skies. Three times old Earth hath grandly worn A snowy mantle clasped with gems, — While stream and fountain ceased their song To wear their icy diadems. ;U6 NORMAN AND PHILIP BOURLAND. 8inoe two fair childrqii Nvoke to life, And looked with wondering eyes around,- Pure in their infant loveliness, With many a charm and beauty crowned. Two winsome boys, whose baby brows Wore even then a noble seal, — Stamped with a promise of the power Which future years might well reveal. Norman and Philip! names of grave, That fit them as a garment — well. Were given to them — throughout time Their own distinctive life to tell. Twin-born — they were the joy and pride Of those who loved them passing well, — While every day that fleeted by. Came with new voice their charm to tell. Three years upon each little brow Mark with light hand their gentle trace, Impressing early childhood's lines With infancy's unconscious grace. With sturdy limbs and happy hearts They wander 'mid the bloom and shade, And softly o'er the shining hair The gentle hand of love is laid. NORMAN AND PHILIP BOURLAND. 347 So like in face and form they are, That one can scarcely ever know Whether they look on Norman's brow, Or see the eyes of Philip glow ; And when their notes of childish glee Ring in their freshness gladly out, Love scarce discerns whose rosy lips In laughter wake the happy shout. God bless them Avith his fondest care, And keep them safe through earthly ways, — From haunting evil and from woe, — Giving them pure and peaceful days. May little hands few burdens know. And little feet walk bravely on, Until beneath Heaven's radiant skies They stand — with life eternal won. DEATH AT SEA. Out on the sea — Where the wikl billows reared their foamy ercst, And wailing winds, in nil their wild nnrest, Sighed nionrnfnlly ; A ship's prond form Sped o'er the bosom of the tronbled waves — O'er the nnfathomed depths of Ocean's caves, Amid its storm. For land and home Pined many a longing heart — prayed many a lip, As the fierce waters dashed across the ship Their spray and foam. One with fair brow, Whose angel beanty deepened day by day, With fading cheek, whose bloom had passed away, AVas dvino- now. DEATH AT SEA. 349 Out on the sea ! Father in Heaven ! Thy liand alone can save — Keep the beloved from an ocean grave, They look to Thee. There are fond hearts Who wait with whitened cheek and })allid lip For tidings from their own, — this tossing ship Gladness or woe imparts. 'Neath the blue sky Of sunny Italy, — amid its cheering bloom; Flower-crowned she went almost unto the tomb, Sadly to die. And so they bore The remnant of her glorious promise back, Across the deep and sounding ocean's track. To her own shore, That she might look, Although with dimming eye — and linger yet By the sweet beauty of the violet. In sheltered nook -, 350 DEATH AT SEA. Might see once more The old familiar trees, whose whispering leaves Had flung their shadows o'er the cottage eaves Above the door : Might hear again The murmured sweetness of the wonted tone, Around her young existence ever known, In joy or pain. And on her brow Feel the calm, soothing pressure of those hands For which her spirit pined in foreign lands. And prayed for now ; And die at last With the beloved — who would ever keep Their loving vigils o'er her quiet sleep, When life was past. Home ! blessed home ! Thy name her waiting spirit may not keep. And calmly, stilly, in her placid sleep, Death's footsteps come. DEATH AT SEA. 351 Ah ! never more Shall those still feet in coming seasons press, With springing life and gushing happiness, Her native shore. Ah ! never more Those darkened eyes will shed their loving light Around the home afiPection made so bright And glad before. Oh ! bitter woe, Amid heart-crushing agony and prayers ; Not even in Death is the beloved theirs, For she must go Beneath the wave To rest in soundless depths — that silent hall Where loving household echoes never fall ; An ocean grave ! Her Parian brow, Kissed by the surging billow, wanders down, Though angels keep for it a shining crown In glory now. 352 DEATH AT SEA. That graceful head, So radiant with its wealth of sunny hair, Fades from the vision — seeking sadly there Funereal bed. Sad, moaning sea ! Guard the rich treasure given to thy embrace, — Keep the pure beauty of that sleepless face, Until to thee, In thunder tones. Comes the command, "Give up thy dead, thou sea!'^ Love's severed links shall re-united be. And Death o'erthrown. fiPRINGDALE CEMETERY. I come to tbc'C, sweet Springdale — shuttinj:; out The busy hum and toil of wakened life, — The clang and clash of spirit, sounding e'er Along the pathway of earth's warring strife. I come to thee, — even as a little child, Who pines to hear a mother's loving word, — In the cuiet beauty of thy shade The echoes of that gentle voice are heard. Those wonted tones! I hear them all again, As long I linger o'er a sleeper's rest, Where the green turf in quiet beauty lies O'er the calm stillness of a mother's breast. My cradle hymn floats through the balmy air. Sang by the lips, in death so still and cold ; The childish prayer seems syllabled for me. As when I heard it in the days of old. Ah, mocking echoes! only in light Of sacred memory can ye exist; For have not I, all tearful, seen the lips That breathed them, to Death's slumber kissed ? 354 SPRINGDALE CEMETERY. Have I not heard the last fond word, and seen The loving light leave earth to brighten Heaven,- Felt the unclasping of that dying hand When life eternal to that soul was given ? Ah, yes ! and yet I love to linger here, — Winning again life's early music back. Oh, the sad loneliness ! when its rich tones Fade from our pathway o'er life's weary track. I love to win it back, though for an hour ; Then doth my spirit find new trust in God, And gains an onward movement to her home, In the same pathway her still feet have trod. I leave thy quiet beauty, sacred spot. With heart-resolvings to press ever on. With the sweet purpose, that each future hour Shall bear above some trace of victory won. That when I come amid thy pleasant shade, And linger with thee never to depart, My name shall live in memory — while I Shall dwell forever with the pure in heart. LETTERS OF THE DEAD. My trembling hand can scarce untwine The little silken thread That clasps in gentle pressure now, These letters of the dead ; For from each fold there seems to come, Smiles, vanished from my sight, And tones, whose music faded out Amid death's gloomy night. Over each sheet, in by-gone hour-s, Looked some familiar face ; Revealingrs from some chosen heart Find here a sacred place. And welcome greetings come to me In many a faded line, That keep through time an influence Both changeless and divine. 356 LETTERS OF THE DEAD. This was the prompting of a heart Upon her bridal clay ; A farowcll to me, from her home Ere she had turned away. Love's glowing skios hung o'er her path Without a passing cloud ; Yet ere Death claimed her, that bright head In misery was bowed. This came to me one summer's morn, From one whose heart beat high With proud ambition's fevered dreams. With glory in his eye. I sought to quench the mocking light That madly lured him on ; He iieeded not — and now his dreams. With his young life, are gone. This, from a gentle friend whose hours W^ere fleeting fast away, Come from afar amid the buds. And balmy winds of May; Only to tell me angel bands Were wooing her away ; Only to tell me that her trust Grew brighter day by day. LETTERS OF THE DEAD. 357 The hand that wandered i)\tr this sheet Wa.<* clasped in wild despair, Amid a trembling, fearful erowd, Who bn-athed a dying prayer. Amid old oc(;an's might and strength, The ship went down in woe, — I fain would shut that vision out. As tears mine eyes o'erflow. The buried past is with me now, Kind words and smiles of old; I almost cease to think each lip Ilath grown so still and cold. Memorials of the hn-ing ones. Who o'er life's pathway shed The fragrancy of kindred hearts. Which dies not with the dead. But lingers in its beauty still, An angel presence — fair, Who with a calm, unsullied wing, Dispels earth's clouds of care; Who oft amid life's hour doth come, The hidden fount to move. For the sure healing of the soul, Its strengthened faith to jirove. THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. We know that Spring with robes of light is gone, We know the violet's meek blue eye is dim — That the sweet warblers of the greenwood bowers Sing never more the strains of nature's hymn ; That buds and blossoms have all passed away, Each short life finished — each pure mission done That whispering leaves are lying crisp and sear, Whose days were ended gently — one by one. We know that Summer's long and golden hours, Crowned with the loveliness of fragrant bloom. Have fleeted by us as a vision bright. Down to the old year's waiting, silent tomb. The fair and beautiful are garnered there. Cut down by the repentless Reaper's hand, Gone ! like the glory of the sunset skies, To dwell in memory's placid, moon-lit land. THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. :i59 We miss the lingering light of Autumn days, Whose mellowed beauty seemed as not of earth ; The burnished banners hung o'er shrub and tree, And russet gleams, that claimed a higher birth. We miss them all — and yet we do not mourn Above the radiant glow which has fled, Nor do we linger with those by-gone hours Time stilly numbers with the sleeping dead. We keep no thought of the moments fled. Amid December's snowy, transient time, — We marvel not around the icy chains That crush the captive blossoms in their prime; And for the Old Year — weary, wan and pale — We yield him up with scarce one fond regret. Forgetting how we welcomed him to earth, — Forgetting how how we loved him when we met. Why is it thus? Were we not wont to weep Over the vanished light of vernal hours? Did we not ever keep such tender thoujjhts For Summer's faded coronal of flowers? Have we not sighed, when Autumn's skies were veiled, For fleeting beauty that we might not save? And longed again for the remembered bliss Of days that waked not from their wintry grave? 360 THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. Why is it thus? Because upon this day The King of Years hath come unto our laud,- A royal ruler! — to the purple born — He wears his honors regally and grand. The nation sings aloud his triumph song, Whose echoes float across the listening world; And starry banners cluster round his way, By every patriot hand they are unfurled. Nor can we wait to sigh o'er faded flowers, Or mourn o'er Nature's many new-made tombs; In all the earth our spirits may not find A place befitting well desponding glooms. For never have we heard such hymns resound ; Never such cheers — such high and lofty cheers As those that circle 'round the onward path Of the proud monarch of A hundred years. Hail, thou Centennial Year ! whose robes so rare Were woven in dim ages by God's hand, — Whose misty moments, days, and months, became Obedient to the power of His command. Hail ! hail ! to all thy grandeur and thy grace ! Hail ! hail ! to all the coming hours and days ! Marked with heroic memories they come, Wearing the heritage of fadeless bays. THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 361 Grand cycle! making up one hundred years ' Of well-earned freedom — her own jubilee! One hundred years the gallant stars and stripes Have floated in unfettered majesty ! By the blue lake, and by the winding stream ; Over the beauty of each grass-crowned hill ; Over the sunny Southland, and the North, They wave in all their pristine glory still. God bless the dear flag of the olden time! Heroes and patriots honor it to-