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Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 & partir de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. jrrata to pelure, in d n 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 COMPLIMENTARY. -*-»-*- Your little volume is full of poetic beauty and deep feeling. — Henry W. Loui^fello^v. "Bide a Wee" contains a chaste and graceful collection of poems, which do credit to the heart and intellect of the author.— John G. W /lit tier. Your little book confirmed all my favorable impressions. I found your poems truthful and melodious.— O/^Vt-;- Wendell Hobncs. Your book is a true book, bright and \)t^\\\\{\}\.—Joa(jnin Miller. "Bide a Wee and other Poems" is a volume of verse, simple and sweet, much of it sprightly. If the sentiment is often the echo of familiar thoughts and strains, the music is always sweet and pleasing, but in some charming home scenes the author shows a scene of humor and good situations which ought, rightly used, to rank her a writer of vers de societe. The little scene in the poem " St. Elmo," is a delicious bit, and " A Sermon," on lace smuggling and custom dues, has a pretty fashionable touch. There is real grace in such romantic poems as " Gage d' Amour," the prettiest of her love verses. — Baldwin's Monthly, New York. This unpretentious little book will find a hearty welcome on both sides of the Atlantic. Miss MacColl has evidently inherited no small share of the divine afflatus from. her father, the well- known bard of Loch Fyne. " One Less To-night " is a pathetic picture. " Fallen Stars," a sweet poem, full of large-hearted charity and tender sympathy for human " wandering stars." In " My Love," with its musical cadence and glowing imagery, we recognize the work of a true poet ; but in " Good-by " there is poetry, and more, " Johnny's Letter" is charming in its sim- plicity and droUness. — Celtic Magazine, Inverness, Scotland, Judged merely for what they pretend to be, Miss MacColl's poems are abundantly worthy, sweet and womanly and excellent in their modest, artless way. They are the frank, sincere, unaf- fected utterances of a nature in which the perception of the poetic side of things is keen and loving, rather than ambitious. They are the utterances of a healthy, earnest nature, with strong convictions and positive principles of moral judgment. — New York Evening Post. These poems breathe a sweet earnestness. Throughout the whole book there is no straining after effect. The vers de societe are timely and demure, while "St. Elmo" is a picture full of refined humor. "To a Portrait," "My Lady," "At Parting." " Returned," "Good-by," all go to make " Bide a Wee" a favorite little home book, pure and sweet and absolutely free from cant and mysticism. — Philadelphia Chronicle- Herald. Miss MacColl's poems all bear the impress of a trained mind, a clear imagination, a deep insight into human nature, kindly wit and shrewd common sense. — Scottish American Journal, New York. In "Fallen Stars" there is a grand plea for the weak and erring. We would also call attention to " St. Elmo," " Gage d' Amour," " Yet a Little While," " After Many Days." Fresh and welcome are the many references to the joy, the laughter, the love and loveliness of children. — Ofta-va {Oni.) Free Press. The descriptive character of the poetry of this book is equal to any that we have seen in poems of the kind. Thus, in " Fallen Stars," the term "dimpled feet abare" is so expressive, so true to life, that it might have been limned by the poets of old. " In Memoriam " is full of sympathy and the holiest feelings that well up when speaking of the loved and lost. The imagery of Miss MacCoU's poetry is surpassingly good. — Hamilton [Oni.) Spectator, The meaning and moral of Miss MacCoU's poems may be seen at a glance. There is many a fireside where their sv/eetness will be welcome. — Buffalo Courier, There are a good many pretty things in this little volume, poems without pretention, but which steal their way to the heart of the reader, quiet and unambitious of great results, but which are thoroughly effective in the vein their author has chosen. — Buffalo Express. The first poem, " To My Father," is worth the whole cost of the book. — Buffalo Christian Advocate. Miss MacColl wields an able and very versatile pen. In all her poems there is a delightful gracefulness of expression, and the reader is not merely interested, but captivated by an occasional flight of fancy. There is not a mere imitation, but that peculiar fire and feeling and pathos whose deep significance and beauty is best and only indicated in verse. — Kingston {Ont.) British IVhig. It \i rarely that fugitive poetry is met with of so high a standard as Miss MacCoU's. To our mind, the best poems are " Two Autumn Days " and " Fallen Stars," but for a truly charming lilt, commend us to " Edith Ikll." We are not aware of ever having met with a grander description of feminine beauty, drawn by feminine hands than that in the poem, " My Love." — Hamilton (Ont.) Times. ( BIDE A WEE, AND OTHER POEMS. BY MARY J. MacCOLL. BUFFALO PETER PAUL & BROTHE 271 Main Street. 1880. R. 7084 Entered according to act of Congress, in tlie year 1879, !5y MARY J. MacCOLL, In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. The Courier CoMrANv, EUctrotyfers, Printers and Binders, Buffalo, N. Y. mm T OFFER these Poems to an indulgent public, feeling deeply their incompleteness in every respect. They have been written hastily, at intervals, under circumstances far from favorable to the cloth- ing of poetic thoughts in fitting garb, I dedicate them, with fond afftHtion, to my dear Father, from whom I have inherited what little poetic feeling they may display. M. J. M. Ri FKALO, N. v., November y iSyq. il1 CONTENTS. 'lO My Father, HiDK A Wkk, A Skrmon, I'wo Autumn Days, Contradiction, Fa I.: KN Stars, . Returned, Si'. Elmo, In Memoriam, Comfort, GOOD-BY, Tired to Death, Cage D 'Amour, Christmas, One Less To-night, Another Year, Snow, Edith Bell, Pack. 9 12 14 17 21 23 27 29 32 35 37 40 43 44 47 SO 53 55 f • Vi CON r K N T s. 1 Pack. • To A l^ORTRAIT, 58 "Afikk Many Days," .... 59 Answkrki), ....... 62 "Vkt a Littik While," .... 64 1 Kasii.r SoNd, 66 My I,(»vk, 68 At Fartinc;, 70 , My I,ai>y, ..... A PkNI'I KNTIAI, PrAYKR, Acrostic, ..... Throuc.h Dkaiii to I.ifk, Johnny's Li:rrKk, Throuch thk Storm, . Mkmkntos, .... An Owkr Truk Talk, forcf.'t-mk-no'ts, Beneath the Pines, Decorative Art, Follies of To-day, "My (Irace is Sufficient for The Sunset, . .... ti't 72 74 77 78 84 87 89 91 95 100 102 4 7 8 I 4 7 9 1 >5 )8 )0 )2 POEMS. TO MY FATHER. T~^ EAR, honored father, who in childhood's -■— ^ years Did'st fill to me the place of parents both So faithfully that scarce I felt that loss Which naught of earth can fully compensate — A mother's love and guidance — glad I tune My harp to sound thy praise, nor could I choose A nobler, fitter theme. An honest man, God's noblest work, thou art. For Truth and Right A champion undismayed, who ne'er at wrong Or aught unjust hath winked, because, forsooth The doers sat enthroned in places high. One who disdained to cringe to any man Although thereby he might have gotten gain And won position, ease, and all the good That baser minds would prize as far above A conscience clean and void of all offense. lO TO MY FATHER. E'en in the vilest thy broad charity- Could clear discern the good — the spark divine — Though latent, waiting but the quickening breath Of noble influence, example pure, To fan it into never-dying flame. The lowest outcast was thy brother man ; No Levite thou, to take the other side ; A kindly, helping hand was ever stretched To all in need, and from thy hard-won store Thou gnvest bountifully. None uncheered, Unaided, left thy ever-open door. No test of worthiness did'st thou require — That miserable excuse for heartlessness ; The greater to be pitied, in thine eyes. That wretch who knew that he himself had wrecked His own and worse, it might be, other lives; And bowed beneath the burden of Too Late. A man thou art of simple, child-like faith, Enduring patience, and undying hope. In one grand word, thou art a Christ-like man. I think with sad regret of all the years Passed far from thee, for Providence decreed TO MY FATHER. II That my life-path, when thy protecting love I needed most, should far diverge from thine ; And I have missed thee sore a thousand times, But ever by my side thy spirit seemed To stand and counsel me to choose the good ; And sweeter praise on me was ne'er bestowed Than this, *' Thou 'rt very like thy father, child." Had I not lacked so oft thy sympathy, Thy tender guidance, ever wise reproof, My muse had taken loftier flights and thou Had'st seen thy youth again renewed in me ; But having to forego so much, my strains. E'en when I sing of thee, are faltering ; And yet a deep, unfathomable flood Of fond affection surges in my soul. In vain I strive to give it overflow In voiceless music, and within my heart It must remain a sweet, imprisoned song. i! PATIENCE. ""pIDE a wee and dinna weary" ^-^ *' Patience" quaintly was defined By a little Scottish maiden, And the sweet words in my mind Ever linger, like the memory Of a beautiful refrain ; Making hours of gloom less dreary. When I breathe them o'er again. Fretted by the many crosses All must bear from day to day. Troubled by our cares and losses, Each of us hath need to say To our hearts, impatient, crying For the ships so long at sea. While faith faints and hope is dying — " Dinna weary, bide a wee." ; PATIENCE. ** Rainy days " each life will sadden, Gentle shower, or tempest wild, Fall upon us, — blessings gladden In their turn. To every child Gives the Father or withholdeth, Ever wisely, tenderly ; Thus our hearts for Heaven He mouldeth, ** Dinna weary, bide a wee." Some there are whom glad fruition 'Neath the skies may never bless. Some to whose long-urged petition Ne'er will come the yearned-for '* yes." Why ? God knoweth — He who lendeth Strength to suffer trustingly. What He seeth best He sendeth— '' Dinna weary, bide a wee." Hopeful wait a glad *' to-morrow Cast on Jesus every care, Not unseen by Him thy sorrow, Not unpitied thy despair, For His people there remaineth Rest and peace eternally, Where the light of joy ne'er waneth, " Dinna weary, bide a v/ee." 13 \ A SERMON. /^^ OING to church this morning, Helen ? ^^-'^ Mamma thinks we ought to go. But that prosy parson preaches ; — I shall go to sleep, I know. After Kingsley's thrilling sermons, Think of settling calmly down To the *' dry-as-dust " discourses One hears in this dull, old town. Never heard St. Ives new curate ? Oh, how much you've missed, dear girl ! While he's speaking one seems standing Very near the Gates of Pearl ; And he looks just like an angel In his gown ; — he's quite too good For (I cannot think who wrote it) ** Human nature's daily food." Yes, his people all adore him. Only think : last Christmas-day Forty pairs of lovely slippers To his study found their way; A S E R M O N. 15 Costly knickknacks, scores of foot-rests, Pictures, books, and easy-chairs, — " Traps enough," his " Boots " told Dennis, ** To have stocked a dozen fairs." He's a hero ; braver never Graced King Arthur's Table Round. No respecter he of persons — Every heart he seems to sound. Once " Thou shalt not steal " his text was: " Few," he said, " alas, how few Keep this law ! Let conscience answer, Are you honest? Are you true? " Steal 's an ugly word, I grant you. Well, ' defraud not ' means the same. How we hate to give our foibles. As we call them, their just name. Guiltless — are you ? Have you never vSw7/^^/^y/ broadcloth, satins, furs?" I thought of my Alexandrines, — Mrs. Upton glanced at hers. i6 A SERMON. J " Did you pay each dollar duty On your velvets, silks, and lace ? " " Great sensation I " Breathless silence. Eloquent was every face. Belle Brown brought her Paris dresses Over in a " crooked " way; Kate Clyde, too, her gloves and stockings And exquisite lingerie. After church we talked it over, — Vowed that we would never more Cheat those prying, pert inspectors ; — Why, it seemed a joke before. " Carriage waiting." Well, I'll tell you Of another, on the way, Just as stirring, — how I wish, dear, We could hear him preach to-day. .-«^ , I TWO AUTUMN DAYS. ALL day in gusty showers, I saw the leaves Swept eddying downward to the rain- soaked sod, I saw upon the uplands tented sheaves, And by the roadside wind-tossed golden rod. Above, the sullen sky frowned loweringly. Close-curtained, not the smallest patch of blue — A hint of brighter morrow — could I see, No gleam of silver lining peeping through. And bitterly I thought, How like my life Is this bleak day ! Hope's tree is lifeless, bare. Its empty arms are tossed in useless strife With fate, and sighing vainly, spare, O, spare ! Yet when the forest banners were unfurled. And fluttered in the balmy breeze of June, I too was gay, all perfect seemed the world. And my glad heart with nature's beat in tune. ^ IS T WO A U T U M N D A Y S. But in one day I saw the flowers of trust, — Flowers kindly tended and kept fresh by tears Of fond remembrance, trampled in the dust, And dyin<^ with the faith of long, sad years. Oh, 'twas a cruel blow, for well-loved hands Had dealt it — and I stood despairingly, Too faint to cry for aid, as one who stands Helpless on sinking ship, far out at sea. I could not weep, I could not even pray, My stricken heart cried, Where is now thy God ? What hast thou done, that He on thee should lay As in fierce anger, thus the chastening rod ? Thou call'st Him Heavenly Father, Lord of Love; Would an all-powerful, earthly parent send Sorrow on sorrow ? Lo, thy trust doth prove All unavailing, on thyself depend. And long I bore my burden sore alone, I could not say " Thy w^ll, not mine, be done." Unceasingly my aching heart made moan Through the long day, from dawn to set of sun. TWO AUTUMN DAYS. 19 Oft in the silent watches of the night The *' still, small voice" spake gently, tenderly, " Trust nie, my child, in time will come the light, And in this grief a blessing thou shalt see." Humbled at last, I bowed in prayer my head And cried, " (), Saviour, take again my hand. Through starless deserts long my path hath led, My weary feet pressed only shifting sand. ** Alone I cannot tread life's thorn-set road, I need Thine arm to stay, Thy voice to guide ; Take all I have, but keep me, O my God, A trusting child, forever near Thy side." Then straightway came the Comforter to me. The troubled waters of my soul were stilled. The wondrous power that calmed deep Galilee With perfect peace my restless spirit filled. Soon was the meaning of my sorrow plain, I found a blessing what I deemed a cross. And owned with glad surprise the richest gain Where I had counted bitter, hopeless loss. mm BiBIHBSSSSBHtB 20 TWO AUTUMN DAY S. And when next year, 'mid fields of waving grain, I saw the reapers binding golden sheaves, When southward fled the swallows, and again 'Neath Autumn's kiss blushed crimson all the leaves, I gave glad thanks, for God my life had crowned, Like to the year, with fair fruition. Blest With His kind smile, like Heaven, this earth is found In every season. Yes, He knoweth best. \ ti i) I: ( CONTRADICTION. r^VER the purple hills, ^^ On through the dewy dale, Softly the twilight steals, Clad in her misty veil • Dead is the after-glow ; Fair on the brow of night Gleameth the moon ; below Mirrors the lake her light. Creeping o'er clovered leas. Stealing through boughs abloom, Bloweth a gentle breeze Laden with rich perfume. Sweetly adown the dell Floateth a lightsome lay; Katydid, hush ! and tell— Ridcth my love that way.? Close by the ivied tower. Weaving sweet dreams, I wait, Wearing his favorite flower; Yet when he ope's the gate If*"' Ill 22 CONTRADICTION. I shall be cold and shy ; The buds aside I'll throw, And wish he would pass by, Though I should weep, I know. The robe he praised I wear, A simple gown of white ; I've bound my shining hair With sprays of myrtle bright. O, heart ! he is anear ; In haste I turn aside. Albeit I love him dear. Dearer than all beside. FALLEN STARS. BEFORE the window little Mamie stood In nii;ht-robc white — her dimpled feet abare, Waitini^ in (|uict, reverential mood, While sister Annie lisped her evening prayer. The smiling moon sailed slowly up the sky, And just above the gray horizon's bar Beamed down upon the earth, with golden eye. Twinkling and bright, a solitary star. "The heavens declare God's glory," — from my heart These words of praise o'erflowed my lips in speech : How great, I thought, if this be only part The glory unrevealed, we hope to reach. Childhood's sweet, simple prayers had each been said ; Still I sat musing in the gathering gloom, Upon my knee had dropped the golden head, When sudden plaintive sobbing filled the room. i i M _ci 24 FALLEN STARS. " Mamie," I called, and hastened to her side, With eager questions filled with anxious fear; " Not ill — then tell me why my darling cried ? ** Not hurt — what is the matter — tell me, dear?" " I cried because the naughty mamma moon Has left the little, tiny baby star, And gone away into the sky alone, So high, so very high, and oh, so far." Quick to my eyes, warm tears responsive welled ; Close to my heart I pressed the sad, sweet face, Giving glad thanks that in my arms I held My fair, twin stars in tender, safe embrace. I thought how many "wandering stars" to-night Are far away from mother-love and care, How many fallen — once as pure and bright As these my treasures — innocent and fair. " Who is sufficient?" Vain is human power Alone to keep the wolf outside the fold ; The strong are weak in dark temptation's hour, The '* old, old story " all in vain is told. FALLEN S T A R S. 25 Alas, those straying ones ! How little they Who ne'er have stood alone can understand How hard life's battle is from day to day, What cunning snares arc set on every hand. Poor, lonely souls, to whom the lamps of heaven Bring only thoughts of dread, remorse and shame ; Have we, their sisters, "to whom much is given," Done all we might to rescue and reclaim ? We give of our abundance, clothing, food, We counsel, warn, read sermons, proffer tracts, And deem such heartless service doing good. Forgetful it the ** one thing needful " lacks — The spirit of the Master. W^hile we stand Clad in self-righteousness to preach and pray, Yet shrink to touch with ours the outcast's hand, Or one kiss on a branded forehead lay. How can they trust in God the Father's love. His power to cleanse the vilest from all sin, When by our deeds our fair words we disprove? We doubt them, and we fear to take one in. r^ 1 ! 26 FALLEN STARS. And they go forth once more, we know not where; Perhaps to fall again a helpless prey ; Sin's heavy burdens all alone to bear, Alone to struggle up the ** narrow way." Yet Christ hath said, *' If for the least of these Ye have done aught it hath been as for me ;" Each fallen star His eye wMth pity sees, Each straying sheep He seeketh tirelessly. Unseen, the Shepherd walketh by our side, How dare we, then, in thought, even, ** cast a stone"? Beneath the Pharisaic robe of pride His eye doth pierce, all hearts to Him are known. RETURNED. DROOPING lilacs, nod and sway All your fragrant purple plumes; Robins, sing your sweetest lay 'Mid the dainty apple-blooms; Golden sunshine, flowerets rare, S4iine and blossom bright, I pray ; Smile, O sky, O winds, blow fair — For my lover comes to-day. Comes from sailing o'er the main Back to wed his promised bride ; From the casement once again Shall I see his swift bark glide Up the silver-crested bay, Where the ripples dance and gleam Till beneath the sunlight they Waves of liquid silver seem. Just one little year ago Since we parted on the strand ; Then as now, like perfumed snow. Blossoms strewed the meadow-land ; r 28 RETURN E D. « Earth had donned her robe of green, Daisy-broidered, gemi. J with gold ; Ah, how like a troubled dream Seem the months that since have rolled. Hasten, darling, o'er the sea. For to-day is due thy vow ; " Love," you whispered, " look for me When upon the crimson bough Of the maple bluebirds sing, When the swallows 'neath the eaves Ivy-crowned are twittering, And the zephyrs woo the leaves." Drooping lilacs, nod and sway All your fragrant purple plumes; Robins, sing your sweetest lay 'Mid the dainty apple-blooms; For my own true lover now Clasps me closely to his heart, Whispers, kissing lips and brow, ** Darling, mine, no more we part." ST. ELMO. ONE summer Sabbath Grandma Gordon bent In reverent meditation o'er the Book, Wherein she found the wondrous bahn which lent Her placid face its gentle, happy look. The day to her was truly God's own day. Kept unprofaned from taint of worldly things ; Tabooed were novels, journals, — papers lay Untouched. The rustling faint of angels' wings At eventide, in fancy, we could hear. When at the household altar low we bowed ; So heavenly round her seemed the atmosphere. We scarcely dared to speak our thoughts aloud. Stretched out upon the lounge lay brother Rex, Weary of brooding over " Guthrie's Life ; " I pondered over the problems which perplex Each human heart with endless mystery rife. 30 S T. E L M O. Half hidden by the curtains Katie sat Curled, kitten-like, upon an easy chair, On book intent, — near her upon the mat Old Nestor crouched, with watchful, serious air. At length a voice the solemn stillness broke — Rex, boy-like, craved yet more than '* food for thought " — From her sweet reverie grandmamma awoke, And Katie's face her loving eyes first sought. Smiling, she kindly said, " I'm pleased, my dear, To see such eager interest in your book ; Heed Wisdom's voice whene'er she calls and hear." Kate listened with a roguish, guilty look. " What is the title, darling ? " The reply Came prompt, "St. Elmo." I look up amazed. " The name seems strange," said grandma, with a sigh. '* Ah, how my memory fails, but, Heaven be praised. lL=^ ST. ELMO. 31 '' Each saintly life will strengthen hope and faith In one's own heart,— read all, dear, pass by none." Rex coughed and vanished, while I held my breath, And wicked Katie read demurely on. IN MEMORIAM. DAVID DEVEAUX AL TMAN. DEAD, with the dew still fresh upon the flowers Which made life's pathway sweet, His sun gone down in the bright morning hours, Its glory incomplete. Gone, swift as rosy dawn, as flowerets rare, As even's glowing gold, A story ended, closed the volume fair. With all the best untold. Dead, as when dies a glad, exultant song Ere yet the sweetest strain Is reached, — with eager ears we wait and long, No sound floats back again, A father crieth, as King David cried Of old, *' My son ! my son ! My son, would God that I for thee had died ! " My hope, my only one. IN M E M O R I A M. 33 My darling boy ! I seek him everywhere, I cannot make him dead, I seem to hear in chamber, hall, on stair, His voice, his buoyant tread. Light of mine eyes; long had I hoped on thee To lean when age came on, Yet I am left, a bowed and stricken tree. And thou, my staff, art gone ! A tender mother mourns for him, her pride. Crown of her womanhood. Strong, generous, brave, he grew up by her side With every grace imbued. With mother-love she read the coming years. And saw a proud place won By him o'er whom she weepeth hopeless tears, Her happy dreaming done. ii ill \ I A loving sister calls with aching heart, O, brother, come again ; Had'st thou but said good-by ere we did part. Less bitter were our pain. fill 34 IN M E M O R I A M. But O, to have no kiss, no clasp of hand, No glance from thy blue eyes. Nor slightest gesture love could understand,- No last, fond word to prize. Sore stricken hearts, how can I comfort ye ; Alas, too well I feel The kindest words must seem but mockery And wound, where meant to heal. Yet O, believe, Our Father knoweth best, He giveth soonest sleep To his beloved, happy, peaceful rest, They do not wake to weep. The angels called him, ere his young white soul Was smirched by stain of sin. His race is ended, — he hath reached the goal. And when ye enter in Triumphant through the gates with jubilant song, The loved and lost shall be First in that wondrous bright, angelic throng. To meet and welcome ye. ■ . •.^i-x^MU.\/A2lil COMFORT. THOUGH many flowers have faded from my life, And clouds obscure the brightness of its sky, Though still amid the turmoil and the strife I must toil onward, as the days go by; O, loving Father ! I can lift to Thee Grateful thanksgiving, and the voice of praise, A harvest fair of blessings, unto me Thy love hath given, lo, these many days. ' i ;■ 1 Oft have I questioned with the poet old, — *' Doth God exact day labor light denied?" Must they whose lives are sad, and dark, and cold, Work bravely on, peaceful and satisfied? Can I make others glad, when no bird sir.^. Within the bloomless garden of my heart ? And self-forgetting lead to better things Those who in deeper shadows dwell apart ? 36 COMFORT. T This have I learned, we can do much to make Our Hves a blessing, and our words a power, If what we find to do for Christ's dear sake We do with faithfulness, from hour to hour. The wondrous story loved by old and young Was penned by Bunyan in a prison cell, In banishment the great-souled Dante sung His grand, prophetic strain of Heaven and Hell And still their name is legion who have wrought Steadfast and calm, bereft of earthly cheer; Songs in the night by angels have been taught, Which wakeful, praying souls alone could hear. Thus thinking on these things my heart grows string, And I walk nearer to my heavenly guide And bless Him for the joys I have, — ere long ** Beyond the veil," I shall be satisfied. G O O D ■ B Y. f~^ OOD-BY ! I cannot speak it, love, to thee, ^^-^. That saddest of all words ; my quick tears flow At thought of parting ; life would sunless be Without thee ; nay, I cannot bid thee go. I know that by thy side Hope smiling stands, Painting a future fair and bright to thee — Fame, fortune, waiting in the golden lands That lie afar, beyond the glittering sea. Could'st thou be free from ill through all the years We must be severed, ere fruition come To thy sweet dreams, I'd smile e'en through my tears, And bid thee go, win power and wealth and fame. But, ah. I cannot pierce the mystic veil Which darkly shrouds the future from my sighi, And I would weep, and long for thee by day And dream of dangers round thee in the night. !fi( H ' i ■ 38 GOOD-B V. ii Even now, I think how many proud, young heads Arc lying low, beneath the shining sand; How many vessels bearing brave, young hearts, Have sailed, but never, never reached the land. O, darling, think what it would be to die, To yield up hope, and love, and life alone; Unwept o'er, in a n 'arlpss grave to lie, From friends afar, l .red for and unknown. Would strangers tenderly across thy breast Fold these dear hands, and from thy brow when cold Smooth the dark locks I have so oft caressed, With tender touch, in the blest days of old .'' Will careless watchers see the last soul-ray Die from the eyes now looking into mine? Nay, I read in them that thy lips will say Farewell Ambition, Love, the victory's thine ! O, chide me not, mine may be needless fears. Fate might be kind, and smile, beloved, on thee ; But, ah, remember, years, long weary years. Must pass ere thou could'st come again to me. GOOD -BY. 39 r i ' I could not climb life's rugged mountain side Without thy strong right arm ^o lean upon ; I could not stem the waves of sorrow's tide Without thy voice and smile to cheer me on. O, what is gold, or rank, or power to me ? They will not satisfy an aching heart: And wanting love how cold the world would be, How desolate— with all its show and art. I love thee, darling, more than I can tell. All else I could yield up ; but thee, ah, no, Not e'en when dying shall I say farewell, Sweetheart, sweetheart, I cannot bid thee go ! '11 I n- '!! I " TIRED TO DEATH. OH, Marie, come quickly and take off my shoes; Now, bring my \v\\\\.q peignoir, and let down my hair; I'm tired to death! Grace, you must excuse Me to Alice and Captain Bellair. Not a moment of rest all this day have I had Since my coffer was brought me at ten, With the papers. Each item of interest I read : By the v^ay, I'm disgusted with men ! A second Maud MuUer young Moneyworth's wed, When he might — but no matter — and then An hour was spent dressing, — a letter I wrote To Bell Breeze — she's a love of a girl ! Drove to Russell's — was fitted — then penned a sweet note To Fred Fairleigh : that card case of pearl He sent me — a bet on the races last week. Yes, archery is quite the rage : A cute polo pony's my very last freak — I'll never fall back of the age. I TIRED TO DEATH. 41 Had breakfast at one ; then a short nap I took ; Read Daniel Deronda till three ; I must say it's tedious — not my style of book — George Eliot 's too solid for me. Now, Southworth and Flemming are just to my taste, And French novels are quite an fait. Kate Norris called next — oh, how tight she was laced, And I'm sure she was painted to-day. While we talked, Clara Alden rushed in with a gush, I thought she would strangle me quite ; Her brother is charming, you know, dear, don't blush— I saw that flirtation last night. • r 1 f \ - ■I Next, Mordant dropped in — he's a donkey; but then He's worth a cool million or more ! Ma thinks him the nicest and wisest of men — To me he's a horrible bore, I 42 TIRED TO DEATH. But I don't mean to snub him ; his T-cart and drag Are the most stunning turn-outs IVe seen ; While driving, to-day, we met Marion Flagg, And with envy she fairly turned green. One cannot well blame her, he is such a catch, And the poor girl is growing passe. How she has manoeuvered to make a good match ! What ! Grace, six o'clock, did you say ? Why, I must be dressing ; at seven we dine At Delmonico's. What shall I wear ? The German at Granger's commences at nine — Shall I bang, friz or scollop my hair ? How frightful to think I have not a new dress ; I'm sure I've appeared at least twice, While at Newport, in each of the robes I possess. My white mull — do you think that is nice ? Come, Marie, make haste, you are always so slow — I wish I had time to take breath ; Well, darling, good-by, if you really must go. Thank goodness! I'm tired to death. GAGE D'AMOUR. nr^HERE came to me a little page one day, -^ In livery of red, and green, and gold, — He uttered not a word, Not e'en a sigh I heard ; And yet his message sweet, to me he told, — A greeting from my lover far away. A white-winged dove, had borne my dainty page O'er hill and dale, across the wide, blue sea, I kissed him o'er and o'er, — 'Twas but a leaf, — no more, — From Autumn's crown, my love had sent to me, — Topaz with rubies set, a true knight's gage. f^ r I ;■' 1 i fi II i i '; CHRISTMAS. T O, Merry Christmas smiles again ! ■^^^ Day brightest in the year, And happy greetings fill the air Re-echoing far and near. Let Yule logs blaze, and every home Be decked with holly gay. Without, within, all should be fair On this the children's day. I I i How many feet adown the stair Were flying ere the light. To where the stockings in a row Were hung with hope last night ? How many youthful hearts beat high, When full and brimming o'er With Santa's gifts their own they found ? Bliss ! — earth could give no more. / CHRISTMAS. 45 To-day, each grandsirc will grow young To share the joyous glee Of laughing girls and merry boys, That gather round his knee. And grandmamma live o'er again The time so long ago. When saucy Harry kissed her first, Beneath the mistletoe. And in a thousand homes to-day The story will be told — The wondrous story, ever new, Albeit ages old — Of the blest Babe at Bethlehem born Long centuries ago. The " King of Kings," from Heaven sent, To save the world from woe. And of the anthem, angel-voiced, That filled the midnight sky — " Peace and good-will to men .on earth ; Glory to God on high." Of three wise men that came from far ; — The star that led their w^ay By hill and plain, until it shone O'er where the young child lay. • i i 46 C H R I S T M A S. Alas ! how many ne'er have heard The tidings strange and glad; Who grope through life uncheered by hope, Unloved, uncared for, sad. Let us remember those who have No joy in earth or Heaven, And give to-day of our good cheer, As God to us hath given. ONE LESS TO-NIGHT. IT ERE she stood beneath the mantel Just a year ago to-night, With her smiling face uphTted, Cheeks aglow, and blue eyes bright, Holding up a little stocking; While her sweet voice eagerly Pleaded " Won't you hang it, mamma, Where old Santa Claus can see?" Lone I sit by dying embers, Christmas eve has come and gone ; And the bell in yonder steeple Slowly tolls the hour of one. One— my heart re-echoes sadly, Two were here one year ago; By my side my boy lies dreaming, She is sleeping 'neath the snow. ;• ■ li:: .i 48 ONE LESS TO-NIGIIT. Here, with dimpled hands close folded, Did she lisp her evening prayer. But no white-robed form now kneeleth By the tiny, vacant chair. Once for all the red lips murmured, '* Now I lay me down to sleep," And the blue eyes closed forever In a slumber, dreamless, deep. Morn, and noon, and night, we miss her, Listening often, all 'n vain, For the sound of coming footsteps We shall never hear again. Little feet the loving Saviour Early through the Pearly Gate Led them, knowing in life's journey Thorns must wound themi, soon or late. Oh ! the loneliness and sorrow In our hearts and in our home. When we know on no " to-morrow " Will our absent darling come ! Wh}^ this cross? we grieving question, God, who took our idol, knew If our ''treasure" were in Heaven We would long to follow too. 1 ONE LESS TO-NIGHT. And we know to-night she is singing In the palace of the King- Once the Bles-d Babe of Bethlehem— And our fond hearts ever chng To our loved one- yet, this morning Through our blinding tears we smiled Saying, whiie we wreathed her picture, ** It is well " with our sweet child. 49 1 1 ^ i l?r ANOTHER YEAR. \i T N my Book of Life, leaf after leaf The Master's hand turned o'er E'en to the last, while I in grief Stood trembling, weeping s-^re, Thinking how marred, and dark with spots Was every page my tears Had washed in vain, to cleanse the spots From the record of the years. In dread I waited the just rebuke, And bowed in shame my head ; But, gently my hand in His own He took,- " Fear not, my child," He said ; " I will not chide — see, free from stain, Another page, pure, fair. Before thee lies, try yet again. Write good deeds, true words there." ANOTHER YEAR. 51 Upward I looked, the touch, the tone So te der. moved my heart To thank and bless Him, but alone I stood, with lips apart Thrilling with words unsaid, — my eyes Saw not the face Divine ; But the golden stars in the purple skies, And I heard the church bells chime. Solemn and slow the midnight hour They pealed, then loud and clear Rang merrily out, from every tower To greet the glad New Year. And I knew but a dream was my vision bright. Yet its meaning came to me Like the welcome gleam of a beacon light To the mariner far at sea. When the clock struck ten, two hours before. From a merry group I sped Alone, to my chamber, and closed the door, Then each penned page I read Of my diary small, to the very last, — And all were stained and wet With bitter tears, for the vanished past I grieved, with vain regret. i ji .ii I 52 ANOTHER YEAR. *' Twelve months/' I wailed, " have flown away All, me! how swift they \vent, And I cannot recall a single day Of the many lost, misspent." Then low I knelt by the window-seat To pray, — for God more nigh Did seem (so ran my fancy sweet), — Could I but see the sky. There like a child myself to sleep I sobbed, and the vision bright Shone softly through my slumber deep, And my sorrow put to flight, For it seemed as if on my list'ning ear Those pleading words, for me anoth( ' y y<- Spare thou, oh, spare this tree ! " To all, God gives the Book of Life A pure, white page turned o'er ; — O, let us wage a ceaseless strife, And fight as ne'er before For the glorious prize, the victor's crown, Glad when the ijoal is won At the Master's feet to cast it down, And hear his sweet, '' Well done." ' SNOW. pROM frost-kissed, fern-traced vvindow I watcli the fleecy snow, So softly faltering dowinvard To clothe the earth below; l^^akelet on flakelet fallin«.- Pure as soul of a child, Fairer than lily chalice, Stainless and undefiled. Crowninnr each cot and mansion, Shrouding the long, dark street,— White as the glis: ^u-ng foam-bells, Noiseless as fairy feet. Draping the leafless branches, Gemming with pearls each spray, Bringing a dream of blossoms, And sunny, fragrant May. i 11 1 1 V 'I W H I 54 SNOW. Each tiny star's a jewel Graven by God's own hand, Bearing a mystic signet, Seal of a King's command. Lighting alike on lowly And men of high degree — Ten thousand thousand preachers Of purity are ye. Snow, spotless snow, fit emblem Of every heart e'er sin The spirit's shrine profaneth, And evil reigns within. Who hath a stainless tablet? Yet, if to God we go, "Though red our sins like scarlet, They shall be white as snow." EDITH BELL. J AM dreaming, Edith Bell, Of youth's happy hours and thee ; Ocean waves between us swell. Yet thou seemest near to me. "Mist-hke fade the long, lone years, Fled since we a last farewell. Mutely looked, through blinding tears- Parted hopeless, Edith Bell. Round my heart, dear Edith Bell, Sad, sweet memories cluster fast ; Chaining me in fancy's spell, Bringing back the sunny past Ere we trod earth's thorny ways, Ere life's shadows on us fell- Childhood's careless, cloudless days, Fair and fleeting, Edith Bell. iti 1 1. \i 56 EDITH BELL Of the Summers, Edith Bell, When we wandered by the sea. Building castles, shell on shell. Launched our tiny bark with glee, Roamed by hazel-skirted streams, Gathered berries in the dell ; One long feast of golden dreams Seemed our life, then, Edith Bell. Winter days, sweet Edith Bell, Ne'er to us seemed dark or drear ; And we lov^cd, when twilight fell. Grandma's wondrous tales to hear Of grim ghosts, or fairies bright. Brownie's help, or witches' spell, Wailing banshee, evil sprite. Never doubting, Edith Bell. Time sped onward, Edith Bell, Brought me sorrow, toil and care ; But no shadow seemed to dwell On your life, 'twas glad and fair As the future we had planned Mid the gowans, in the dell, Where we sat, hand clasped in hand- 'Twas our Eden, Edith Bell. ii I EDITH BELL. 3/ Dost remember, Edith Bell, When the last time there we met? Could we e'er such woe fcM'etell ? Can we e'er such grief forget ? Still your words ring out to me, Softer, then, were thy death-knell, *' In the morn a bride you'd be — Lady Lisle," viy Edith Bell ! Love was conquered, Edith Bell, By ambition, and the fear Of a father's curse. Too well Had I loved, and still more dear Than my life art thou to me : Weary years, nor death, can quell Love's fire kindled but by thee, \\\ my heart, dear Edith Bell. Snow-white now, sweet Edith Bell, Say they, is thy raven hair; Lines of care and sorrow dwell On the brow, kang-syne so fair ; But no change my heart can see, So I heed not what they tell ; Thou art ever young to me, Ever bonnie, Edith Bell. i »-i; ir; hi ■ TO A PORTRAIT. /^^ PERFECT ideal face, which long in vain ^^ Throughout the world I sought, until with pain — The bitter pain of finding idols clay, Of gathering fair, false, dead sea fruit alway- Meart-weary I the useless quest gave o'er, E'en as an exile on a foreign shore Scans with an eager gaze each passing face. Remembering one with lines of tender grace ; Yet as long years roll by and all hope dies, With lagging steps he walks, and downcast eyes. And thus, unheeding, I moved on life's way With listless air, — nor features grave nor gay Enchained my gaze, — until (like heaven earth seemed morn) the face of which I'd dreamed gold( By day, by night, I found, — and claimed thee mme, My true soul mate, as I, beloved, am thine. "AFTER MANY DAYS." ■\/r USING I sat one dismal, cheerless day, Sufferincr and sorrowful, with hopeless eyes Fixed on the ^n'ound, as if below there lay Some dark abyss, from which all troubles rise. Few hearts are unimpressed by Nature's mood ; When she doth frown and weep, sad memories wake, And even youth's day-dreams are sombre-hued, Life seems a mystery deep, or sad mistake. Strange, when the i^loom ci sorrow's night comes on, Straight we forget the dewy, radiant morns- Strange, when the beauty of a rose is gone, Most often comes remembrance of its thorns. f ir 6o AITER MANY DAYS. I As d.irkcr ^rcw the day, with darker lines I sketched each picture from life scenes lonp^ past ; Dark cypress trees and ever-sifjhinf:r pines I'^ormed every background, and weird shadows cast. Shadows that hid the sunny slopes from sight, And fair mis -Mantled hills that lay beyond. The emerald meadows starred with v'.aisies white, The fleets of lilies anchored in the pond. I passed all by, and came to Memory's grave — Alas, though I have made it wide and deep. Though flowers bloom o'er her, and long grasses wave, She stirreth often, whispering in her sleep. Like ghosts old griefs and wrongs from out the Past Through my soul's chambers flitted one by one, And o'er my life a heavy pall seemed cast, Nor star of hope shone out, nor gleam m I 1 1 a aftp:r many days. 6i How like to children are we — when afraid, In doubt or anguish, to the Father's face We wistful l(3ok, as mutely asking aid ; Thus I looked up to pray for help and grace. And lo, it seemed as if an unseen hand Had traced again a message on the wall In speech I could not fail to understand No prophecy of some great city's fall. But a sweet promise kindling hope anew, " God is our refuge and our strength," — twice o'er I read the^precious words, and felt them true, And sweeter seemed they than e'er before. For little hands this motto worked for me With loving care, e'er they grew still and cold ; And oft a childish voice read solemnly The sweet assurance from the Book so old. And through my tears, with grateful heart, I said, ** O Lord, how wondrous are Thy works and ways ; ' ' Upon the waters once I cast my bread, And lo, I find it " after many days." ANSWERED. F ;ORGOTTEN ?— darling, nay, I love thee still With all the fervor of tiie olden days ; As then, imperial o'er my heart and will Thou reignest, crowned with never-fading bays. Why ask if in the windows of my soul A rival's eyes now read the secret sweet Thine own have conned, as from an open scroll, So oft, in happy hours, alas, too fleet ? O my beloved ! what need have I to tell That absence makes thee only still more dear? Life is not life without thee, ah, — too well Thou knowest how I lonp; to have thee near. Miss thee ? — would Earth not miss the King of Day, Did fair Aurora cease at morn to fold The rose-lined curtains of his tent awav. And lead him forth, in robes of gleaming gold? ANSWERED. 63 O ! dark as death seem all the leaden hours Which must be numbered ere thy face I see; As summer rain to drooping, dying flowers, So will thy coming be, dear one, to me. My king of men! I love, aye, worship thee, And oft I pray. Lord, be my sin forgiven, If sin it be, to love so tenderly Him in whose presence Earth seems like to Heaven. 1 ' I m M f "YET A LITTLE WHILE." 13 EYOND the clouds smiles the clear blue sky, -^^ And the sun will shine when the storm blonds by. In the frost-bound earth through the winter lay The flowers that in beauty bloom to-day, And soon from the buds on the bare brown trees. Will banners of green be unfurled to the breeze. Cloud, flower, and Kaf, ye are teachers three Of the many my Father hath given to me. The lesson ye teach I can understand ; To me 'tis as rain to the thirsty land. I know that the sunlight will gild my sky, In the sweet, mysterious " by-and-by ; " And from chilly realms of dark despair, Will spring Hope's blossoms fresh and fair. l!l!RiiiHK.1 "VET A LITTLE WHILE.' 6S Then my heart will thrill like a wind-kissed leaf Though it fainteth now 'neath a weight of grief Oh, Thou who dost clothe the lilies aye, 111 light or in shade may I feel Thee ni^rh • May my faith burn bright, and my love be strong. Though the tempest rage, and the night be long. Help me to work while 'tis yet to-day- Ere the twilight falleth cold and gray; Help me with careful hand to sow Good seed from -.vhose germs no tares may grow. May the Lord of the harvest upon me smile When He cometh to reap in " a little while." d eastf:r song. BLITHE heralds of the Spring break into singing, Warble your sweetest, merriest notes to-da\' ; Teal out, glad bells, the joyful tidings ringing, Christ hath arisen, the stone is rolled away ! H Haste, laughing brookle-t, tell it to the river, O hasten, river, sing it to the sea; Chant the. grand anthem to the shore forever. Wild waves of (jcean — shout it ceaselessly. ?■ i I if i i|i Smile, mother Earth, thy richest treasures proffer, Thy lovely, first-born darlings, piu'e and fair. And bid them from a m}riad censers offer The sweetest incense, like a voiceless prayer. Rejoice, rejoice, all things in Earth and Heaven, Bless the Redeemer with united breath ; Glory and praise be to the victor given, Jesus hath triumj^hed over sin and death ! EASTER SONG. 67 Rejoice all nations! Christ our Saviour liveth, To help the weak, to rai.e up those who fall • Joy passing knowledge, lasting peace He givetl'i, Love, rest, eternal life, offers He to all. Meet are our offerings, meet our adoration, Dear Mediator, all we owe to Thee ; " O, wondrous love, which purchased our salva- This be our song, throughout eternity.? i I! MY LOVE. A HALO bright, of golden hair, Doth crown her royally ; Her low, broad brow is white as foam Upon a stormy sea. Like open violets gemmed with dew Her laughing, soul-lit eyes, Serene and clear and deeply blue As cloudless summer skies; And bright they beam as fair twin stars Through rifted cloud, when night Has donned her trailing, sable robes, And veiled the moon from sight. ¥ ■■ ! n Her lips are like to coral wet By kiss of rippling waves, Less faultless than her teeth the pearls That gleam in ocean caves. Her cheeks have caught the faint, sweet flush Of rosebuds ere they blow, MY L O V E. And fair her dainty, dimpled chin As freshly-fallen snow. Soft is her winning voice, and clear As sound of woodland streams, A voice that ever haunts me, sweet As music heard in dreams. Like lilies are her little hands, In fancy even now I feel, O bliss! their soft, pink palms Like rose leaves touch my brow ; And falleth on mine ear a sound, Of all sweet sounds most sweet, The cojTiincr footsteps, light and low, Of dancing, fairy feet. My love, my life ! how thrills my heart With joy unfelt, unknown, Ere Heaven had sent thee to my side, My peerless one, my own ! 69 * ■ I ;h 11 ■1 i 1. AT PARTING. "D EFORE we said farewell, upon my hand -^-^ He pressed two kisses, tenderly and slow ; The first fell just below this golden band (His pledge of troth) here, where the blue veins show. The second kiss he folded in my palm, Saying the while, " My darling, ne'er forget That thus I seal thee mine, in storm and calm. Come weal, come woe, until life's sun shall set. " O, love of mine ! I consecrate these hands To noble deeds, to Ch''ist-like ministry. Ready for harvesting the world's field stands, Go forth to reap, the Master needeth thee." A third kiss on my brow he fondly pressed, And said, " Dear, keep thy thoughts as pure as snow," Then in a rain on lips and eyes the rest Fell passionately, while he whispered low, . 1 AT I'ARTINi;. 71 " My own, my own, from these sweet lips and eyes Let Truth's white soul speak out ; thou canst not tell How many hopeless souls up to the skies Thy faithfulness may lift from Doubt's dark hell." He went afar, a hero's part to take In life's fierce battle ; trusting^dy I pray, And strive to reach j^rrcat hei^i^hts for his dear sake, Knowing he'll come again to me, some day. When life seems hard, close to my aching brow And tearful eyes I clasp caressingly The hand he kissed. The memory of his vow, That baptism of love, come back to me, And I am glad, content and strong once more, Grief spreads her sable wings and disappears. I pray '^ God bless my darling," o'er and o'er, And chide my weak heart for its foolish fears. \n !' !■■ ,..V..^ 1 MY LADY. ¥ i SHE is not sedate and queenly, Crowned with hair of ebon hue, Not a fay with golden tresses Shading eyes of heavenly blue ; She is not an ideal airy, — Dove or floweret, pearl or star, Not an angel is my lady, But a creature dearer far. Just a little, laughing maiden, Dusky-haired and hazel-eyed. With a heart so filled with goodness, Room remains for naught beside. Fresh and pure as meadow daisy, Ever gentle, loving, gay ; Like a sunbeam from my spirit. Chasing all the gloom away. MV LADY. As I gladly hasten homeward, When the busy day is o'er, Comes to me the -olden vision Of a bright face at the door ; Round, white arms my neck eacirch-n<,r, Rosy h*ps pressed close to mine, Breathing welcome; ah, my lady,' Face and arms and hps are thine ! Bright eyes dim and Time's rude finger Changes e'en the fairest face, Care and sorrows of a life-time' Bow forms once erect with grace ; But heart-beauty fadeth never, *Tis a loveliness divine, And thou hast this priceless treasure DarHng little lady mine ! 73 ! t A PKNITENTIAL PRAYICR. /'~\ GOD, 1 lift my tearful eyes to Thee, ^-^ Hear Thou my prayer ; For comfort, Lord, I cry, imploringly, — My sorrow share. Here at Thy feet, my wounded heart I lay, — Thou will not spurn. Though I have wandered from Thee far away. Nor would return. Though oft with patient love Thou did'st beseech, In wrath command, I heeded not the lessons Tho" would'st teach, — I built on sand. I sought with earthly love my soul to feed, But all in vain, — It left me famishing in hour of need. And brought but pain. A I'Kx I ji: \ r [ A [. 1' K . \ y 1-; K. 75 Rendincr the veil that hid my inner life From human eyes, Revealed past failures, errors, sorrow, strife.- In cold surprise. Love, seeking f„r perfection, scornful turned From me aside ; The comfort, lielp, and strength for which I yearned, Were each denied. Now, ever faithful Friend, to Thee I come; Dear Lord, forgive ! A weary wanderer returning home, I pra); receive. An empty, undivided heart at last I offer Thee, O, seal it Thine,--my broken idols cast Afar from me. With wihing feet Til follow evermore Where Thou dost lead ; Thy ' .ve hath proven an exhaustfess store In hour of need. II, 7<^ A P E N [ T E N r I A L 1' K A V E R. Within the shelter of Thine arms alone Is peace and rest ; Dear, tender Saviour, gladly do I own Thy love is best. im K I I; : t 4 - --{ t i fc: i 'r i i i i t .«L^ ACROSTIC. W EAVLN'S richest blessings I would wish '- for thee, Ever unclouded may thy life-sky be ; Love's firmest tendrils round thy heart entwine ; Earnest and faithful friends be ahvay thine ; Nightly may angels guard thy slumbers sweet, Leading by day aright thy careless feet, And guiding thee where living waters flow Close to the Shado^viiig Rock,-in grief or woe Vield thou thy will to Christ, who loves thee so. Free may'st thou ever be from i)ain and care, And all thy years on earth be glad and fair, Radiant as thy life's morning be the night ;' Gla(' thine awakening m the Land of Light,— Ovei the river deep, where all is bright. HI THROUGH DEATH TO LH^E. m hi I*!) U it ||! if «-' ill ii /""^ ONE arc the fair summer flowers ; ^-^ Lifeless and shrouded they lie 'Neath tlie brl- chair, WJiat memories they bring! I hear once more the patter of his feet, TJie merry laughter, ringing clear and s'ueet, And see him as of old about to spring To my embrace,— forgetting, in m\' joy, "^ That in a fairer home, beyond the sky. My nestling now doth sing. Here is his little cot, the pillow soft His wee head rested on so oft, so oft, O, it does almost seem I could again to mine his red lips press. And feel his baby fingers dear caress, And see his dark eyes gleam ; Alas, that little grave with grass o ergrown, "Our Darling" carved upon the marble stone, Dispels my happy dream. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) m P // ^/ iP &< A 1.0 I.I *^IIIIIM ill IM 2,2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ■< 6" — ► V] & /a m t. « 'W ^^f V o /,. 7 M Photographic Sciences Corporation m. s ^^ V s V \ \ s 'lor's,- Can the)' more desire'* Yea, '' sub rosa," be it spoken, Else my peace of mind were broken, Cigarettes— the signs betoken ; What will follow then? Very little more is needin 99 Other garments superseding Skirts. 'Tis thus Dame Fashion's leading, — Strike for rights, O men ! f I "MY GRy\Cl^ IS SUMICIENT FOR THEE." T^ F. patient when trials assail thee, -■^ And hope seems to fade from thy sight ; When tile L;lory of morninj^ has vanished And left but the darkness of night ; In deei)est affliction despair not, Though bitter the ordeal may be, Remember the Savit>ur's sweet promise, " My grace is sufficient for thee." Ni 3 Tf blossoms of joy droop and wither. When fairest and brightest they seemed, Forget not, *' through great tribulation," Have passed all the white-robe redeemed; When loved ones, thy nearest and dearest, To join them, cross death's narrow sea, Murmur not, He is faithful who promised, " My grace is sufficient for thee." *'MY C.KACK IS SUFFK [KN|- I'(;K Mn;!;." FOI R ( Then trust, thoii^rh the clouds frown alK)vc thcc, And thorns chistcr thick 'nciith thy feet, While others have nr)vverets and sunshine, And (juaff from life's chalice but sweet; The reason we shall know hereafter ■ On earth we but darkly can see ; Then coura^re, He suffered, who sayeth " My ^rrace is sufficient for thee." Grief purifies, fits us for Heaven— A Father's hand holdcth the rod ; In joy we forget the kind giver. In sorrow we turn unto God ; Have faith, then. He ne'er will forsake thee, And merciful ever shall be; To tried souls and tempted. He whispers— " My grace is sufficient for thee." SUNSET. A BOVR the hills, mist-mantled, a wondrous '^^ glory lies, Bright billows — gold and amethyst — flood all the western skies. O, perfect, matchless picture ! O, scene sublimely f^iir! A glimpse of Heaven seeming, of glory shining there. How slow the purple paleth, the crimson fades to gray. While sad the night breeze waileth above the dying day. Its joys and griefs are ended, its cares and trials past, Its record sealed, O, solemn thought, what if it were our last ? SUNSET. 103 teavens gates each even Ah, can it be that H( stand ajar, While guardian angels wing their flight, unseen, from star to star ? And if the City's portals are so beautiful to see, What must the hidden splendor of the - many mansions " be ? This hour to me doth holy seem, my soul goes forth in prayer To God who hath to mortals given a scene so grand, so fair ; And when my life's last sun hath set, and death's long night is nigh, O, may I wake in that bright land, where daylight ne'er shall die.