A GOEOm,
BY
RICHEARD GEORGE IIHOLLAND.
COL U M BUS:
J. H. IRILEY & CO.
M DCCC LIII.
Scott & Bascom's                   Press, Columbus.
k -) —----------— ~ —--








TO
ADJUNCT PROFBRI SO  OF LANGU AG   IN KENYON COLL BO, AND
ASSOCIATI  PRINCIPAL OF THE GRIAMMAR SCHOOL,
WHOSE
SKILL AS A TEACHER,
AND SINCERITY AS A FRIEND,
HAVE
WON THE LOVE AND RESPECT OF
Zte %utbmn,.








HE N Autumn's reign had first begun,
The Sun to rule her realm she chose,
And while he slept, pale Twilight hung
Her lamp, and watched till he arose.
II.
Mild breezes fanned the heated day,
The valleys smiled with waving grain,
Ripe fruits lay strewn along the way,
And mirth and plenty filled the plain.
2




6
III.
When early morn its light displayed,
So brightly shining, so serene;
A thousand wilted leaves arrayed
With countless charms, the rural scene.
IV.
That season passed-dark Winter came —
Dethroned the sun —quenched Twilight's lampSet Night in place of her to reign,
And marked the heavens with his stamp.
V.
Casting his glance along the. earth,
Its plains appear, deck'd out in green;
These he designs to spoil with dearth,
Nor spare, till ruin marks the scene.
--- -----— ~~~~~~~g




VI.
Straight calling forth his cutting blasts,
Points to the choicest spots below;
Thereon with dire intent he casts
This unrelenting, bitter foe.
VII.
Into an orchard first they rush,
And through the loaded branches shoot;
Mark! how with sudden blow they crush
The bending boughs of golden fruit.
VIII.
Hidden from sight, a garden lay,
Made rare to please, made rich to grace;
Flowers were there in bright array,
And moss filled in each vacant place.




8
IX.
When ev'ning's gentle shades crept round,
The savage winds, by Winter sent,
Rush to the spot-sweep o'er the groundScatter the flowers and spill their scent.
x.
Bright morning dawn'd, no rose essayed
To sprinkle perfume in the air;
But sapless stems their tops displayed,
From beds of leaves that wither'd there.
XI.
In yonder lawn once stood a bower,
Shaded, and here the moss-rose grew;
Myrtle sprung near her sister flower,
And lilies courted morning dew.




9
XII.
Where now may we with joy look round,
On those fair ones of Autumn's train?
Go, seek them in the chill, cold ground —
There, stripp'd of beauty, they remain.
XIII.
The task is done, creation stands,
Bereft of all her lovely things;
And now to shake the solid lands,
More pow'rful tempests spread their wings.
XIV.
Off to the north, where yonder vale
Extends itself beyond the eye,
Exposed to every passing gale,
And lambent lightnings from the sky



10
XV.
How lonely and how drear the view,
Thick mists envelop it around;
Yet once we loved to wander through
Its pleasant walks and velvet ground.
XVI.
Choice Groves are there, but left alone,
No music now their peace pervades;
No kindred spirits fondly roam,
To whisper love beneath their shades.
XVII.
The valley too, which ofttimes gave,
Thick sheaves into the farmer's hand;
Is now, alas! the treach'rous grave
Of travelers o'er its snowy land.




XVIII.
Gray rocks remain as were of yore,
But all the nimble goats are gone;
The same trees stand, but where's their store
Of birds, that filled the air with song?
XIX.
Hush! music breaks the stillness round,
Anxibus we list to catch the lay;
It is the huntsman's bugle sound,
Mingled with cries of "Hark away!"
XX.
On comes the cry of hounds in chase,
The sounds of eager steeds behind;
And bounding o'er each rugged place,
Outstrip in course the fleeting wind.




12
XXI.
The deer's ahead, he's gaining fast,
Death spurs him on-he flies for life;
He feels this race may be his last,
And strains his nerves to quit the strife.
XXII.
Swift as the wing of morning's light,
Swift as the sudden hurricane,
Swift as the swallow's trackless flight,
The hunters pass o'er hill and plain.
XXIII.
They falter not, though miles they've tried,
Now clearing fence, now stemming flood;
O'er valleys filled with snow they ride,
And forests blocked with fallen wood.




13
XXIV.
But now the deer is not so fleet,
From every obstacle he shrinks;
Crags hung with ice impede his feet,
Exhausted nature almost sinks.
XXV.
Danger on every side appals,
Through yonder wood a path he spies;
HIe bounds-is on it,-headlong falls,
And helpless in the snow pit lies.
XXVI.
To man and beast much woe will come,
Ere Spring again unveils her face;
Many will find their resting home,
Within eternity's embrace.
3 —-— ~ —   -~ —~   ~ —-- i




14
XXVII.
A rural view we've here portrayed,
But let us turn our gaze awhile,
To Winter, as he stands displayed,
Within our city's crowded pile.
XXVIII.
The morning's air is dense with smoke,
Mingling with fogs of darkest dye;
Confusion's voice so soon awoke,
Goes echoing to the vaulted sky.
XXIX.
In yonder doorway's deep recess,
A woman lies-her tattered gown
Wrapped closely round her infant's breast,
Its little head with want weighed down.




15
XXX.
The pallor of that sunken cheek
Denotes how soon its life will cease;
Shortly, and then those eyelids weak,
Will close in death's unbroken peace.
XXXI.
With tender look and warm appeals,
The weeping mother asks relief;
HIer gestures tell how much she feels,
Her words, the anguish of her grief.
XXXII.
But no response, no gentle voice,
Speaks comfort to assuage her pain;
She only has the bitter choice,
To cease her words, or speak in vain.
& ---------------- 




16
XXXIII.
See here, in nature's last decline,
Old age is forced to beg for bread;
Ile, round whose path, in youth's spring time,
The gifts of love and wealth were spread.
XXXIV.
That form once stately, now bent down,
That brow so placid, marked with care;
From his pale cheek gay health has flown,
And age has left its furrows there.
XXXV.
Again he stops to raise his head —
Perchance Compassion's coming by?
The answer is too plainly read,
In his sad look and heavy sigh.




XXXVI.
Whom cannot such an image move!
Behold him desolate, alone,
Shut out from sympathy and love,
Uncared for by the crowd, unknown.
XXXVII.
Another, by some piteous lay,
Begs alms from those who love sweet sounds,
While scheming paupers throng the way,
With naked limbs and painted wounds.
XXXVIII.
Observe the tatters in their clothes!
Listen, how others loudly sigh!
All such are aggravated woes,
To draw relief from passers by.




18
XXXIX.
Signs like to these depict the works
Of Winter passing o'er a town;
But more heart-rending misery lurks
In scenes we've yet to look upon.
XL.
In a dark lane, where live the poor,
A lonely tenement appears;
We enter through the open door,
And now ascend the creaking stairs.
XLI.
Tired with ascending, let us stand —'Tis poverty's worst wreck; and TimeI see in every breakage round,
The work of that dread hand of thine!
LO~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-~~




19
XLII.
But while we take a close review,
What sounds are these so sad, so low?
Oh! turn your anxious eyes and view,
A picture fraught with bitter woe.
XLIII.
See, where the feeble light of day,
Forms ghastly shadows thro' yon room;
And with its sombre, sullen ray,
Serves to increase the sickening gloom.
XLIV.
Here poverty usurps control,
And famine revels with delight;
Grim sorrow fastens on the soul,
And brands it with untimely blight.




20
XLV.
A wretched bed, with scanty clothes,
Supports three children, young and fair;
How sweet to them this short repose,
Already doomed to toil and care!
XLVI.
Another holds the wasted form
Of woman, stricken blind and old;
IHer tattered quilt can't keep her warm —
She's aching from the bitter cold.
XLVII.
Her daughter sits beside the bedA widow young- a mother too;
Upon her knees she sinks her head,
To hide their misery from her view.




21
XLVIII.
Now, mother, all your feelings steel,Your children wake - they ask for food!
They cannot stop the pangs they feel,
Nor can you offer what you would.
XLIX.
The voice of age is heard in pain,
How deep, how piercing, who can know?
"Mother, some bread!" is asked again,
In accents of conflicting woe.,L.
Groan follows groan —see her despair!
She will not, can not stay within;
She rushes out, a new career
Of common begging to begin!
4.w~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o




22
LI.
Ye who on beds of down repose,
Whose eyes on smiling plenty rest,
Forgetful of the grief of those
Who wake, by pangs of'hunger prest:
LII.
Ye who on couches hourly lie,
And weep while reading Fiction's tale,
But pass true scenes of misery by,
And turn deaf ears to sorrow's wail:
LIII.
Or ye who idly spend the hours
Listlessly sipping at a feast,
Not heeding those outside your doors,
Who'd gladly eat the crumbs you waste:




23
LIV.
Say, by what title can you hold
The name of Christians, kind and good?
How talk of charity, while gold
You never kindly give for food?
LV.
You've heard of those in foreign lands
Who shut their doors on helpless men;
You shudder, while your own vile hands
Will do the same thrice o'er again.
LVI.
A bell rings out its solemn knell —
A miser passing to his grave;
While rumor's tongues can hardly tell,
The ill-got wealth he loved to save.




24
LVII.
Fancy calls up his garret dark,
His wretched bed and scanty fare;
His fire, that warmed him with a spark,
His midnight watchings, full of care.
LVIII.
Then each one says, "I'll show that I
Am not as he, I'll spend my gold;"'Tis said, and luxuries quickly lie
Around them, and their steps enfold.
LIX.
A vain attempt of thoughtless minds,
Sinking them deeper in the clay;
As vain as that of him who finds
His clothes on fire, and flies away!




25
LX.
This anxious care to spend their means,
Without due thought or proper aim,
Directly tends to worse extremes
Than did the miser's love of gain.
LXI.
Pure charity will never dwell
Where pompous men their wealth unfold;
Nor mix with those who boasting tell
The priceless value of their gold.
LXII.
It lives alone in good men's hearts,
Silent, though active -void of pride —
The ray that lights the gloomy parts
Where want and every woe abide.




26
LXIII.
The screen that hangs o'er others' faults,
And puts the good before the stain;
The soul to brighter spheres exalts,
Where love and gentle feeling reign.
LXIV.
Oh! that as ages grow refined,
As science also brighter shines —
Increasing grace would seize the mind,
And virtue strengthen with the times.
LXV.
So far our theme has been —loud storms,
Cold frosts and snow -a gloomy train;
Winter's fond joys in various forms,
Henceforth shall guide our simple strain.
01~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




27
LXVI.
Hark! on the frozen ear of night,
The sleighs with silver bells —
On yonder hill top's snowy height,
The merry music swells.
LXVII.
Delightful tones! I love to hear
Their cheerful, tinkling sound;
Which sweetly fill the list'ning ear,
And wake the echoes roundLXVIII.
While rising to the spangled sky,
They reach the highest pole;
And hand in hand go sweeping by,
Where countless systems roll.




28
LXIX.
Anon they check their rapid course,
And downwards gently glide;
Where rivers rush with fearful force,
Along the mountain's side.
LXX.
Now on the frantic water's breast,
We hear the dying sound;
Till soothed by distance into rest,
They sink in sleep profound.
LXXI.
When day's dull light begins to wink,
Yielding to early evening's sway;
When noon-day fogs to darkness sink,
And man from business steals away —




29
LXXII.
When smoke ascends in streams upright,
From chimney tops as black as clay;
When lights increase and twinkle bright,
In cottage windows far away —
LXXIII.
When rains descend with pattering tread,
On roofs and shining panes of glass;
When travelers throng the nearest shed,
And others shiver as they pass —
LXXIV.
Then let the hearth be piled up high,
And all the household sit about;
The curtains hide the low'ring sky,
The candles keep the darkness out.




30
LXXV.
How happy look both old and young,
Relating stories full of mirth;
Oh! who could keep a silent tongue,
While sitting by the household hearth!
LXXVI.
Meanwhile a cherished friend drops in,
And as the hours commence to wane,
The social orchestra begin
To sing their tuneful, evening strain.
LXXVII.
In decent order, evening prayer,
The father reads, the rest reply;
Then to their beds in peace repair,
To rise when morning courts the sky.




LXXVIII.
Bless'd scene of every dear delight,
Where constant friendship still endures!
Would I might linger, and unite
My simple ev'ning song with yours.
LXXIX.
If there's a spot on this bleak globe,
Where peace and pleasure always bloomWhere all are in contentment's robe,'Tis surely in a "happy home."
LXXX.
Ye blissful souls, whose joys such are,
While seated round your blazing hearth;
In kindness drop a faithful tear,
For all who cannot taste their worth.




32
LXXXI.
Ah! think of them whose homes display
A father drunk, a vagrant wife;
Where raging famine holds its sway,
And learn how blest your lot in life.
LXXXII.
But stay, my muse, prolong my rhyme,
Another strain I've yet to sing —
Of Winter's merry Christmas timeThe best that all the year can bring.
LXXXIII.'Tis Christmas eve —dark night has come,
And earth lies shrouded in her veil;
Within the peasant's peaceful home
Is spread the full and rich regale.




33
LXXXIV.
The wide hearth brightens up the scene,
The Christmas block's in flames arrayed;'Mongst all assembled there, I ween
No face assumes a mournful shade.
LXXXV.
The white-washed walls support bright tins,
That smile at holly placed behind;
The pendant bacon also spins,
With clust'ring ivy in its rind.
LXXXVI.
Smiling with looks of love, they meet
Around their host's inviting board;
Each modest maiden takes her seat
Near him by whom she's most adored.




34
LXXXVII.
Oh! what a ceaseless din of plates,
Mixed with the noise of forks and knives;
While each one to his neighbor prates,
How this man fails, or that one thrives.
LXXXVIII.
The ale goes round to many hands,
And cheerful hearts'tis sure to make;
The honest matron smiling stands,
With knife upraised to cut the cake.
LXXXIX.
The moments pass, they scarce heed howWhen joy is ours, Time speeds his wing;
The passing viands need no bow,
Nor "Thank you, sir," for everything.




35
xc.
And when the poor man at their door,
In God's own name implores relief;
His prayer is heard, and from their store
They help his wants and soothe his grief.
XCI.
The clock ticks on,'twill shortly warn,
And usher in a Christmas day;
Now many an anxious look they turn,
To see how far'tis still away.
XCII.
The young men rise, their partners take,
A moment, each is in his place;
The pipes and fiddles music make,
And'round they dance in rapid pace.




36
XCIII.
The walls shake from the bounding floor,
And quicker still they dance about;
While thus the room is traversed o'er,
The merry Christmas chimes ring out.
XCIV.
And many fervent prayers are sent,
To gracious heaven, from grateful souls;
That thus each Christmas may be spent,
By all their friends as each year rolls.
XCV.
When youthful Spring the year commands,
And torpid nature owns her sway;
When verdure blushes o'er the lands,
And rip'ning blossoms scent the day



37
XCVI.
With joyous heart man sees the sun,
That calls the earth from death's dark verge;
lie courts Spring's smiles till they are flown,
And then his praises sing her dirge.
XCVII.
Soon Summer shows her sunny face,
To tempt the fruit to richer life;
The flowers to bloom, the sheep to place
Beneath the shearer's sharp-edged knife.
XCVIII.
Her short lived reign is quickly told,
For Autumn then the sun-beams dawn;
I1er store-house opens to infold
The fruit that seasons past have sown.
6




38
XCIX.
This task complete she locks the door,
And gives the key to Winter's hand;
To guard the food till that glad hour,
When Spring once more shall deck the land.
C.
Man drops a tear upon their graves,
Then turns to Winter standing by;
And as the faded fields he leaves,
Ends his adieu with heavy sigh.
CI.
"Grieve not," says Winter, "I've in store,
More solid joys than those just flown;
Love me while here- I'11 ask no more,
And then court Spring when I am gone."




39
CII.
ilan checked his tears and thanked his God,
For all the blessings He bestows;
And while he owned His chast'ning rod,
To heaven his song of praise arose.
it.,~