OTHER POEMS
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CROWN OUR HEROES 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 MRS. MARY E. KAIL. 
 
 This book is offered, that this book m r iy be 
 A friend to you, as it has been to me ; 
 For through the trials of the passing years, 
 To write its lines was balm for all my tears. 
 
 WASHINGTON, D. C. : 
 
 JUDD * DETWEILER, PRINTERS. 
 
 1887.
 
 Entered according to act of Congress in the Office of the Librarian of 
 Congress by Mrs. MARY E. KAIL, in the year 1887. 
 
 NOTE. John Church & Co., 8. Brainard's Sons, and W. F. Shaw own the 
 copyrights of songs in this collection, which are placed under their respect 
 ive names, and published by permission. The song " By and By the Roses 
 Wither," was written for S. Brainard in 1870, but has been since published 
 by White, Smith & Co., and other publishers.
 
 TO 
 
 THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC; 
 EVERY LIVING AND EVERY DEAD SOLDIER; 
 
 AND TO 
 
 MRS. LELAND STANFORD, 
 
 WHOSE GENTLE CHRISTIAN SYMPATHY HAS SOOTHED 
 SO MANY SUFFERING HEARTS, AND BROUGHT 
 
 THE 
 
 MORNING OF JOY 
 TO THE HOME OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 .1 03590?.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Crown Our Heroes I 
 
 General Grant's Funeral Ode 2 
 
 To Mrs. Leland Stanford 4 
 
 Poem of Welcome 6 
 
 Thou Hast Won My Heart to Love Thee 7 
 
 Flowers Around the Picture 8 
 
 A Spray of Jasmine. to 
 
 We Sing of the Merry Harvest-Time II 
 
 Little Effie 12 
 
 Some One 13 
 
 How We Journey 14 
 
 A Picture of Life 15 
 
 Two Natures 17 
 
 Blue Morning-Glory 18 
 
 Genius 19 
 
 Two Altars 20 
 
 A Shower of Roses 21 
 
 An Autumn Day . 22 
 
 Rest, Mother, Rest 24 
 
 Sweet Vale of Connotton 25 
 
 Crocus 27 
 
 If we Could Know 28 
 
 Jonquil 30 
 
 Pretty Little Maiden .__ __. 31 
 
 Our Silver Wedding Song .. 32 
 
 Morning, Noon, and Night 34 
 
 I Am Trusting in God 35 
 
 His Footstep at the Door 37 
 
 Daffodil 38 
 
 (V)
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 My Little Son and I 39 
 
 We Silently Slumber at Last 4 
 
 Pretty Robin-Redbreast 4 1 
 
 Frozen 4 2 
 
 Rest 43 
 
 Autumn Glory 44 
 
 Ohio 46 
 
 Come Where the Flowers Lie Sleeping 47 
 
 For Me, Sweet Birds 49 
 
 There Is a Difference 50 
 
 Emancipation Day 5 1 
 
 A Winter Day 54 
 
 My Love of Long Ago 55 
 
 My Love is True to Me 56 
 
 A Reverie 57 
 
 Marguerite 59 
 
 On the Evergreen Shore 60 
 
 The Recompense of Faith 61 
 
 Rest, Noble Hero, Rest 63 
 
 What is Poetry 64 
 
 The Old Hearthstone 66 
 
 A Song of Sadness 67 
 
 Tell Me Roses 69 
 
 Summer Weather 70 
 
 Sometime 71 
 
 Sea- Anemones 72 
 
 The Voice of the Roses 74 
 
 The River's Answer 75 
 
 I Envy Not 77 
 
 Inauguration Ode 78 
 
 Beautiful Violets 80 
 
 A Fragment 81 
 
 Heaven Bless the Little Boys 82 
 
 Farewell to the Ohio Editors 83 
 
 In Silence Now 84 
 
 Centennial Ode 85 
 
 Mabel 88 
 
 Faded Lilies , 89 
 
 A Gift of Roses 90
 
 CONTENTS. VII 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A Welcome gi 
 
 At Last ^ 95 
 
 Oh, No, Not There ' 99 
 
 Silvery Waves 100 
 
 At the Gate I Wait for Thee 101 
 
 Under the Roof-tree 102 
 
 Our Thanksgiving 103 
 
 From the Rill to the Ocean 104 
 
 Lines in a Young Lady's Album 106 
 
 Violets 107 
 
 Claribel Lee 108 
 
 The Pauper 109 
 
 Oh, Sing for me a Song To-night I II 
 
 By and By the Roses Wither 112 
 
 At Close of Day 113 
 
 I Was Waiting for a Letter _. 114 
 
 I'm Dreaming I'm an Infant 115 
 
 My Mother's Flowers 117 
 
 Tell Me, Darling, that You Miss Me 118 
 
 I'll Dream Love of Thee 119 
 
 Jennie Vernon 121 
 
 Summer Night 123 
 
 The Music of Tears 124 
 
 Send Me 125 
 
 I Am Weary, Oh, My Father___ 126 
 
 Softly and Low 127 
 
 To My Bride of Thirty Years 128 
 
 What Shall We Name the Baby ? 129 
 
 Gloomy Weather 131 
 
 An Autumn Revery 132 
 
 Cold, My Darling 134 
 
 Give Me Back My Childhood 135 
 
 Life is Short and Death is Near 136 
 
 In the Garden 137 
 
 Into the Fields With Golden Grain 138 
 
 Bitter Wine 139 
 
 Cast Off 140 
 
 Then Life Were Worth the Living 142 
 
 Only a Woman's Smile 144
 
 VIII CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Our Angel Watchers 145 
 
 Another Year 146 
 
 Thrice Wedded 147 
 
 Brightness 149 
 
 Submission 150 
 
 Departed June 151 
 
 With the Gift of a Rose 152 
 
 Gentle Words 153 
 
 Little Mary 154 
 
 Where Shall the Soul Find Rest 156 
 
 To an Old Friend 157
 
 CROWN OUR HEROES. 
 
 CROWN OUR HEROES. 
 
 [The following poem was read by Mrs. Davidson, of Alabama, Deco 
 ration Day, 1 88 1, at the tomb of Washington, on the occasion of 
 the visit to that place of George Washington Post, G. A. R. , Gen. 
 M. T. McMahon, commanding, the verses placed in their archives 
 and the writer presented with the badge of the Post, a gold hatchet 
 on blue silk.J 
 
 Crown our heroes, the soldiers, whose spirits have fled 
 To the land of the blest : crown the heroic dead. 
 Let the fair hand of woman weave garlands of flowers 
 Kissed by heaven's pure sunlight in sweet morning hours. 
 Go tenderly, gently, and scatter them where 
 Our heroes are sleeping, go scatter them there. 
 
 Crown our heroes, the soldiers, who sleep on the shore 
 Where the call of the bugle can wake them no more. 
 Men who fought to defend us oh, can we forget 
 The tribute of glory we owe to them yet ? 
 Bring love's fairest offerings, with tears and with prayer, 
 And gratefully, sacredly scatter them there. 
 
 Crown our heroes, the soldiers, whose grandeur and power 
 Saved our own dear Columbia in war's troubled hour 
 When amid the fierce struggle each soul was a host, 
 Who was ready to die lest his country be lost. 
 They are dead ! they are dead ! what now can we do 
 As a token of love for the noble and true ?
 
 2 
 
 Crown our heroes, the soldiers. Oh ! scatter the flowers 
 O'er the graves of the dead : they are yours, they are ours. 
 Men who fought for the flag, and our foes in the fray ; 
 For as brothers they sleep, both the blue and the gray. 
 And true to our banner, our offerings we bring, 
 Blushing roses of summer, and violets of spring. 
 
 Crown our heroes, God bless them ! no true heart must lag: 
 Crown the dead and the living who stood by the flag. 
 Through the oncoming ages let each have a name 
 Carved in letters of gold in the temple of fame ; 
 For the bright Stars of Freedom our banner unfurled 
 Is the joy of Columbia, the pride of the world ! 
 
 GENERAL GRANT'S FUNERAL ODE. 
 
 [From Memorial Edition of the NATIONAL REPUBLICAN.] 
 
 Muffle the drums, for the hero is dead ! 
 
 And our tears tell the sorrowing story ; 
 From pain and from suffering his spirit has fled, 
 
 And we bury our chief in his glory. 
 Nevermore shall the voice of the clarion's call 
 
 Wake the dearly loved form from its sleeping ; 
 Whisper low ! let the music in reverence fall, 
 
 While around him a nation is weeping.
 
 -3- 
 
 Our tears for the hero while angels proclaim, 
 
 He has passed o'er the heavenly portal, 
 Where wreaths of the victor and laurels of fame 
 
 Have been changed for the glory immortal. 
 Rest, soldier, rest, for 'tis joyful to know 
 
 Ah, was it e'er known by another? 
 Gallant men, who once stood in the ranks of the foe, 
 
 Love you now as a friend and a brother. 
 
 Round his grave we will gather with tributes of love, 
 
 And the songs of his country's devotion, 
 While the flag of Columbia floats proudly above, 
 
 Reaching out to the isles of the ocean. 
 And 'mid glory awaiting the on-coming years, 
 
 Loving friends shall plant summer's sweet flowers, 
 That shall blossom and bloom 'neath their fast falling tears 
 
 O'er the grave of this hero of ours. 
 
 Mufflle the drums while the people draw near, 
 
 Every heart with a" voice of caressing ; 
 Touch gently the chords of each memory dear 
 
 For it brings us a boon and a blessing. 
 Fold softly his battle flags over his breast 
 
 And disturb not his wonderful sleeping ; 
 With a world's benediction our hero shall rest 
 
 While his spirit is safe in Heaven's keeping.
 
 4 
 
 TO MRS. LELAND STANFORD. 
 
 AN ANGEL CAME TO ME WHEN DREAMING. 
 
 " Are they not all ministering spirits ?" 
 
 [The late Leland Stanford, jr., whose example of youthful piety should 
 be a lesson to children of the entire world, always repeated before 
 retiring to rest, the beautiful prayer, " Now I lay me down to 
 sleep," and invoked the Heavenly blessing upon his beloved par 
 ents. The author has taken the liberty to embody this impressive 
 incident in the following poem, feeling, as the Bible teaches, that 
 Heaven and the angels are very nigh to those who believe. It is 
 well known that the Hon. Leland Stanford's princely gift to the 
 State of California, was not only bestowed in commemoration of 
 the memory of his son, but also to carry out the expressed wishes 
 and plans of his child; whose love and consideration for children 
 was only exceeded by his devotion to his dear father and mother.} 
 
 An angel came to me when dreaming, 
 
 And whispered fond words, sweet and low ; 
 While on my face the tears were streaming 
 
 But why those tears I could not know. 
 Yet, I had lost an earthly treasure 
 
 As pure as flower of earth could be ; 
 And I had loved him beyond measure, 
 
 For he was heaven and life to me. 
 
 Now by my side, the angel kneeling 
 I saw the bright form in my sleep 
 
 Prayed reverently, with deepest feeling, 
 " I pray thee Lord my soul to keep 
 
 And bless my father and my mother 
 If I should die before I wake
 
 I love them as I love no other 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take." 
 
 Then bending low with fond devotion, 
 
 The holy angel sweetly smiled, 
 And with a mother's strong emotion 
 
 I knew it was our precious child. 
 While 'round me golden light was falling, 
 
 Our darling whispered soft and low, 
 " My angel friends from heaven are calling, 
 
 Kiss me good-night before I go." 
 
 Then with angelic touch caressing, 
 
 My lips were pressed with kisses sweet ; 
 And thus in beauty and in blessing 
 
 My heavenly dream was all complete. 
 And though sometimes my feet may weary 
 
 While walking through the coming years, 
 The path of life shall ne'er be dreary 
 
 Since love has been baptised in tears. 
 
 Heaven is our trust ! there is no other, 
 
 And thus we hear our angel say 
 " Lookup to Jesus father, mother; 
 
 His hand shall wipe your tears away." 
 Our bud of promise still unfolding, 
 
 'Mid fragrance of the life divine ; 
 Beyond the blue, our eyes beholding 
 
 Shall see him rise to manhood's prime. 
 JANUARY ist, 1887.
 
 6 
 
 POEM OF WELCOME. 
 
 [To Gen. Lucius Fairchild, of Wisconsin, Commander-in-Chief of the 
 G. A. R., read by Comrade W. S. Odell, Washington, D. C., 
 Sept. 23, 1886.] 
 
 Hail, our chieftain ! We greet thee with glory to-night, 
 While around us the stars of Columbia shine bright, 
 And the stripes of our banner in beauty unfurled 
 Speak the joy of our nation and pride of the world. 
 Every star flecked with gold in its heaven-born place, 
 Every stripe proudly streaming with rapturous grace. 
 In this soul of the nation, we bid thee good cheer, 
 For as brothers united we welcome you here. 
 
 Yes, welcome, thrice welcome ; we well understand 
 That we greet thee as one who was born to command, 
 With the guerdon of Justice and Liberty's dower, 
 While the blessing of brave hearts gives strength to your 
 
 power. 
 
 Thus the rainbow of love forms an arch overhead 
 That shall brighten the path where your armies are led 
 Men who marched at the sound of the clarion's call ; 
 Men who laid on the altars of freedom their all. 
 
 Hail, our chieftain ! To glory we're marching along; 
 Let the sky, air and ocean re-echo our song ; 
 While our grand institutions, so brilliant in fame, 
 Speak the triumph our souls would so proudly proclaim.
 
 To our comrades and brothers all over the land 
 We extend renewed vows, and a firm proffered hand ; 
 That each heart may unite in the interest of all, 
 Standing true to their trust, when our country shall call ! 
 
 Hail, our chieftain ! We greet thee and offer to you 
 
 The laurel wreath, twined for the noble and true ; 
 
 And we pledge you good faith, through the on-coming 
 
 years, 
 
 Though our hopes may be dimmed by the memory of tears. 
 Ah! brothers, to-night, 'round this banquet outspread, 
 We are bound by the living and bound by the dead. 
 By the North and the South, all united and free 
 By the deeds of the past, and our works yet to be. 
 
 THOU HAST WON MY HEART TO LOVE THEE. 
 
 [Music published by John Church & Co.] 
 
 Thou hast won my heart to love thee 
 
 The old time dream is past ; 
 Thy tender, earnest pleading 
 
 Has won my heart at last ; 
 The brilliant stars of heaven 
 
 That are mirrored in the sea 
 Cannot be more true and lasting 
 
 Than the love I give to thee.
 
 8 
 
 Thou has won my heart to love thee ; 
 
 I bow before love's shrine 
 And whisper with a trusting heart, 
 
 My darling, I am thine ; 
 And though thou shouldst forget thy vows 
 
 And prove untrue to me, 
 The heart thou hast so bravely won, 
 
 Will still be true to thee. 
 
 Thou hast won my heart to love thee 
 
 And bound me by love's chain, 
 And through life a willing captive 
 
 I ever shall remain ; 
 And when upon that blissful shore 
 
 My spirit shall be free, 
 A nobler and a purer love 
 
 I then shall give to thee. 
 
 FLOWERS AROUND THE PICTURE. 
 
 [Suggested on learning that President Arthur, every morning, wreathes 
 in fresh flowers the portrait of his beloved wife, the late Nellie 
 Herndon Arthur.] 
 
 My darling, while around your calm, sweet face, 
 
 I wreathe these precious flowers, 
 Fond memory bears me with a tender grace 
 
 To life's fair morning hours,
 
 -9- 
 
 When, like a radiant vision of the skies 
 
 An angel form divine 
 I saw the rapture in your smiling eyes, 
 
 And knew that you were mine. 
 
 Hope's rainbow-arch across life's ambient sky 
 
 With heaven was all aglow 
 Earth seemed a dream, even heaven itself was nigh, 
 
 For heaven was here below. 
 Each star that flashed across the azure blue 
 
 From out the dome above 
 Seemed to our hearts, so trusting and so true, 
 
 A golden gleam of love. 
 
 My darling, may this precious wreath of flowers 
 Remain an emblem of that holier life of ours. 
 When far above earth's tumult and its strife 
 Our souls shall meet in God's immortal life, 
 Where sweet-voiced roses never know decay, 
 And angel hands shall wipe our tears away. 
 
 WASHINGTON, D, C.,June 15, 1882.
 
 A SPRAY OF JASMINE. 
 
 Within the shadow of my quiet room 
 
 I sit and dream ; 
 
 While near my casement trembling snowflakes fall 
 And spread a chilling mantle over all 
 
 The fields, that once were robed in shimmering green. 
 
 I dream, and in a far off southern clime 
 
 With fragrance fraught, 
 I am surrounded by arcadian bowers 
 Golden with beauty of the jasmine flowers, 
 By fairy fingers into garlands wrought. 
 
 And through the branches of the waving pines 
 
 And arches dim, 
 
 There floats a melody, so sweet and low, 
 'Tis like unto a river's rythmic flow 
 
 Or grand primeval forest's evening hymn. 
 
 And clinging mosses drape the graceful trees 
 
 Just as the veil 
 
 Conceals the blushes of the loving bride ; 
 When kneeling proudly by her lover's side 
 She vows to love him until life shall fail. 
 
 Sweet south-wind whisper low and tell me why 
 
 I thus am blest ; 
 With tranquil joy I view the crimson sky
 
 Whose opal tints upon the ocean lie 
 Like the full glory of a soul at rest. 
 
 But ah, though orange groves inspire my dream, 
 
 And perfumed showers 
 Of sea-kissed roses nestle at my feet 
 Without this gift my dream were incomplete, 
 
 Your welcome gift, my friend, of jasmine flowers. 
 
 Dear friend, this spray of jasmine speaks to me 
 
 Of summer lands, 
 
 And fancy weaves a garland bright and fair 
 That in the coming years my soul shall wear ; 
 My dream dissolves, I wake by angel hands. 
 
 WE SING OF THE MERRY HARVEST TIME. 
 
 SONG. 
 We sing of the merry harvest time 
 
 When skies are all aglow, 
 And blossoms of the summer days 
 
 Are drifting scented snow. 
 And listening to the robin's song, 
 
 Oh, how we love to stray 
 With bleating flocks and lowing herds 
 
 Down by the new-mown hay.
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 We sing of the merry harvest time, 
 With hearts athrill to music's chime, 
 Though clouds are dark and tides are low, 
 We'll dance along and onward go, 
 Singing of the harvest time. 
 
 We sing of the merry harvest time, 
 
 Strange fancies memory weaves, 
 Of harvesters with dancing feet 
 
 Who gathered golden sheaves. 
 We love to dream of the reaper's song 
 
 How bright those memories seem 
 When love was young and hope was fair, 
 
 And life was but a dream. 
 
 LITTLE EFFIE. 
 
 Little Effie, with golden hair, 
 Eyes eclipsing the violet's blue ; 
 
 Lips, like rubies, that always wear 
 A smile of brighter and richer hue. 
 
 Little Effie, with childish glee, 
 Chasing the fleeting hours away; 
 
 Radiant, beautiful, fancy free, 
 Dancing merrily all the day.
 
 Gathering sunshine, where it lies 
 Deep in the lily's cup of gold, 
 
 Angels whisper from out the skies : 
 " Purer than lily a thousand fold." 
 
 Little Effie, at close of day, 
 
 Bows at the bedside her golden head 
 Hear the innocent prattler pray : 
 
 " Bless me before I go to bed." 
 
 Oh, that the weary, o'erworn with care, 
 Walking life's journey with tired feet, 
 
 Would learn from Effie to turn in prayer 
 To Heaven for a benediction sweet. 
 
 SOME ONE. 
 
 Hark ! the bell tolling, and crape on the door ; 
 Dear ones are weeping as never before ; 
 Fond hearts are sighing ; their joy is all fled, 
 For the pride of the household lies silent and dead. 
 
 Some one was borne by the angels away 
 Weary of toiling, no longer could stay ; 
 Some one is robed in a vesture of white, 
 Who faithfully conquered by doing the right.
 
 14 
 
 Some one has gone from trial and sin 
 To the land where temptation can enter not in 
 Some one has gone to the isle of the blest 
 Some one has gone where, the weary find rest. 
 
 Some one has gone to the beautiful shore, 
 With angels above, to rejoice evermore. 
 Saved from all sorrow I know I shall be, 
 For some one in heaven is waiting for me. 
 
 HOW WE JOURNEY. 
 
 How oft through life we idly wander 
 
 O'er the green fields with daisies bright, 
 Where, from the trees, fresh apple blossoms 
 
 Scatter their crowns of pink and white ; 
 Where blushing roses breathe fond kisses 
 
 From lips all moist with scented dew ; 
 'Twould seem that thus, so bliss enchanted, 
 
 We fain would walk life's journey through. 
 
 Regardless of the souls who journey 
 
 Their lives o'ercast with shades of night 
 While hopeless tasks and tears of sorrow 
 
 Obscure life's roses from their sight ; 
 With bleeding feet and hands o'erburdened 
 
 With constant toil and withering cares, 
 While others reap the golden fruitage 
 
 They may but gather up the tares.
 
 A PICTURE OF LIFE. 
 
 An exquisite picture I now recall, 
 
 That was long ago painted on memory's wall, 
 
 Of a fair little babe on its mother's breast, 
 
 Who had tenderly closed its blue eyes to rest ; 
 
 And the chubby hands, with their dimples deep, 
 
 Were folded like lilies in infant sleep, 
 
 And the artist had touched, with a masterful grace, 
 
 Every line on the beautiful sleeper's face. 
 
 But the picture has changed, and behold now I see 
 A golden-haired boy at his mother's knee ; 
 The bright face is all radiant with childish glee, 
 And the possible hopes that are yet to be. 
 While the lips seem to whisper, as children can, 
 " O mamma, I love you ! I'm your little man ! " 
 And the mother looks down with a tearful surprise, 
 For she sees the soul life in her darling boy's eyes. 
 
 Now the child turns away and a proud youth appears, 
 And his eyes speak the promise of oncoming years ; 
 What cares he for the world or the swift-fleeting hours 
 When his life is all garlanded over with flowers ? 
 His soul is enraptured with life's music sweet, 
 While he echoes the song with his glorified feet ? 
 And his lips wear a smile, while his heart seems to say, 
 " I'm a man that the world shall acknowledge some day."
 
 i6 
 
 But the youth disappears, and a brave, manly form, 
 Who has gathered life's harvest in sunshine and storm,. 
 Speaks out from the canvas, and now seems to feel 
 That the world is a foeman deserving his steel ; 
 And his future is great with the works of the past, 
 For he knows that men's good deeds are garnered at last ; 
 And he knows life is earnest, if men are but true, 
 And each heart finds the work which the strong hands 
 must do. 
 
 Ah ! the picture has changed and now, weary with tears, 
 
 I see a form bowed by the gathering years. 
 
 The cheek has grown pallid, the footstep is slow, 
 
 And the hair is as silver as winter's bleak snow. 
 
 But the soul has grown rich in its ocean of grace, 
 
 And the eyes look above to the heavenly place 
 
 Where his heart's treasures are, and where he, after all, 
 
 Shall lovingly answer the good angel's call. 
 
 Now the end has drawn nigh, and a bright angel band 
 Have arrived from the courts of the heavenly land ; 
 But the artist is weeping with soul-throbbing pain, 
 For he knows that his labor would all be in vain. 
 For no pencil of artist, nor poet's charmed song, 
 Could picture the bliss of the seraphim throng ; 
 But we know that we live, and must work for the best, 
 And can trust to the love of our Father the rest.
 
 T *7 
 
 TWO NATURES. 
 
 There are spirits who walk through life's mystical way, 
 
 Ever toiling on wearily day after day, 
 
 Looking downward so close to the earth which they tread 
 
 That they see not the stars in the sky overhead. 
 
 Ah, the hours are so slow and the days are so long 
 
 For they know not the joy of life's wonderful song. 
 
 Thus the road is made rough to their slow, plodding feet, 
 
 And life's rapturous smiles but a dream incomplete. 
 
 There are spirits with wings and they noiselessly fly, 
 
 Bearing all of life's burdens aloft to the sky; 
 
 And though trials and sorrows around them may throng, 
 
 They wake up the world with their heaven-born song. 
 
 Like the lark they may rise till they soar out of sight, 
 
 Reflecting each star-gem that gladdens the night; 
 
 But like dewdrops that fall on the roses at even, 
 
 They bring back to the world the sweet perfume of heaven. 
 
 Blessed spirits, surrounding with beauty and grace 
 The mansion of wealth and the humblest place ; 
 All our tears are forgotten and hushed is our fear, 
 For we know in their presence God's angels are near. 
 They have learned the true faith, that, without asking why, 
 It is glory to live, and 'tis glory to die. 
 Unto them has the record of ages been given, 
 That the music of earth is the prelude of Heaven.
 
 18 
 
 BLUE MORNING-GLORY. 
 
 My blue morning-glory 
 
 All radiant with sweetness 
 Your voice like the thrush's song 
 
 Tender and true, 
 And heart overflowing 
 
 With gentle completeness, 
 You scatter rich blessings 
 
 In all that you do. 
 
 When you swing your blue bells 
 
 From the vine-trellissed bower; 
 Or come to my window 
 
 To smile in my face, 
 You are ever the same pretty 
 
 Summer-kissed flower, 
 Whose friends all admire you 
 
 For beauty and grace. 
 
 But should the south-wind 
 
 Breathe, a message of sadness ; 
 Or clouds in the heavens 
 
 Bring tears to your eyes ; 
 Look within your pure soul 
 
 For the glory and gladness, 
 That shall brighten your life 
 
 With a joyful surprise.
 
 19 
 
 Imperial genius, great and grand thou art, 
 Standing from other lives so wide apart ; 
 The modest veil that drapes your glowing face 
 Cannot conceal the mastery of your grace. 
 Oh, genius, where the mellow sunlight streams 
 And weaves of golden threads a jeweled crown, 
 And where the holiest star of evening gleams, 
 There, at thy shrine, I bow in silence down. 
 
 And when the lark repeats the song of spring, 
 And dips in heaven's own blue his fearless wing, 
 'Till rising thus, above the earth-born throng 
 He wakes the world with his immortal song ; 
 Around thy brow a halo light is there, 
 Which makes thy face than angel's face more fair, 
 Then in thy soul I hear the thought waves throb 
 And know thou art a prototype of God ; 
 
 And when I hear the rippling song of June 
 A wildwood harp with every string in tune ; 
 When every budding flower is all athrill 
 With melody which none but June can trill, 
 And drowsy bees in minor monotone 
 Kiss the queen lily on her virgin throne ; 
 Oh, then proud genius, kneeling at thy feet, 
 I find the balm that makes earth life complete.
 
 20 
 
 And when at hush of golden summer day 
 I see the crimson slowly drift away, 
 And purple clouds and clouds of amber hue 
 Sail like good ships across the ethereal blue, 
 And from the censers of the sleeping flowers 
 Sweet perfumes rise to charm the evening hours j 
 Oh ! then, loved genius, kneeling at thy shrine 
 I know the power that blends with life divine. 
 
 TWO ALTARS. 
 
 I built an altar fair and bright, 
 
 And placed it on the sand ; 
 Its pillars, decked with costly gems, 
 
 Were fashioned by my hand. 
 Of all things great, on earth or sea, 
 I said its workmanship should be 
 
 The finest in the land. 
 
 When frorn its censer of pure gold 
 
 I saw the incense rise 
 Poor foolish heart, I vainly asked, 
 
 Where is the sacrifice ? 
 A voice came throbbing through my brain 
 
 " Your altar is but clay." 
 A wave dashed high upon the shore 
 
 And washed it all away.
 
 Ah, vain is sorrow now, I said, 
 
 And useless is regret ; 
 The clouds that broke my altar down 
 
 Are big with mercy yet. 
 I turned to Heaven, and asked for help 
 
 To build again once more, 
 And found the place to build would be 
 
 A rock upon the shore. 
 
 Faith, Hope and Love, then helped me rear 
 
 A structure firm and high, 
 Whose base is built upon a rock, 
 
 Its summit in the sky. 
 The flowers that round my altar twine 
 
 Shall bloom through all the years, 
 For when the sunshine dries their leaves 
 
 I water them with tears. 
 
 When trials come and storms assail, 
 
 And sorrow leaves its trace, 
 The rock, whereon my altar stands, 
 
 Shall be my hiding place. 
 
 A SHOWER OF ROSES. 
 
 In through the casement of my morning room 
 A breeze steals softly, laden with perfume, 
 For heaven had rained from out the realms of light 
 A shower of roses on the world last night.
 
 Bright fairy blossoms, speaking hope and love 
 To soothe the weary; pointing them above 
 To the unfading hills, where they may rest 
 From labor evermore among the blest. 
 
 Immortal roses, tell me can it be 
 You hold within your hearts a shrine for me ? 
 Whisper your answer softly, speak it low, 
 Sweetest and best of all the flowers that grow. 
 
 Oh, precious treasures of the summer time 
 Your fond reply my soul receives sublime. 
 While drinking from your lips love's nectar sweet, 
 You cast your crowns of beauty at my feet. 
 
 A shower .of roses ! coming from the skies, 
 With fragrant voice you make poor mortals wise ; 
 For speaketh not the rose, with dying breath, 
 A hope that liveth even after death ? 
 
 AN AUTUMN DAY. 
 
 A stillness rests upon the dreaming hills 
 
 A glory on the flowers ; 
 It seems to me, this autumn day was born 
 
 Of holier days than ours. 
 
 An inspiration from the realms above 
 Is borne among the trees,
 
 And fragrant dewdrops from the ambient sky 
 Perfume the evening breeze. 
 
 The south-wind echoes low in whispered song, 
 
 A chime of vesper bells, 
 And listening to the music's rippling flow 
 
 My heart with rapture swells. 
 
 A holy calm that lights the poet's thought 
 
 Is resting everywhere ; 
 Each trembling blade of emerald grass is fraught 
 
 With fragrant, voiceless prayer. 
 
 The autumn leaves, about to say farewell, 
 
 Are robed in gold and rose 
 Their transient lives have known earth's fairest charms, 
 
 And none of earthly woes. 
 
 The heavens with royal grace are bending low 
 
 In ecstasy divine 
 To touch with smiling lips the proffered cup 
 
 Of nature's sparkling wine. 
 
 In vain my pen the tranquil scene would trace 
 
 Where angel feet have trod ; 
 I only know, this is a time and place 
 
 To kneel and worship God ! 
 
 And though the winter days are drawing nigh 
 
 With storms of hail and rain, 
 The benediction I receive to-day 
 
 Shall keep my heart from pain.
 
 24 
 
 REST, MOTHER, REST. 
 
 [In Memory of the Mother of Mr. Samuel G. Kinsiey. Adapted to 
 music by Mrs. Clara Moore, New Philadelphia, O.] 
 
 Rest, mother, rest, your care and toil are ended, 
 
 Your trials over and your work well done ; 
 At Heaven's gate, by angel guards attended, 
 
 Your crown was given you the victory won. 
 Rest, mother, rest, and peaceful be your slumber, 
 
 Your dear hands folded o'er your gentle breast ; 
 Above your grave shall blessings without number 
 
 Fall from the lips of those your deeds have blest. 
 
 Rest, mother, rest, your loving words shall linger 
 
 To soothe and guide us through the coming years, 
 'Till God shall touch with His eternal finger, 
 
 And turn to joy the fountain of our tears. 
 Oh, mother, when at holy evening hours 
 
 The stars look down from out the sky of blue, 
 And dewdrops tremble on the sleeping flowers, 
 
 With reverence then our thoughts shall turn to you. 
 
 Rest, mother, rest, your cross is wreathed in roses 
 No brighter joy to child of earth is given, 
 
 For while in sleep your precious form reposes, 
 Your spirit wakes to nobler life in Heaven. 
 
 Oh, gentle south-wind, touch the chords of sweetness 
 With tender measure of an artist's hand
 
 25 
 
 Round mother's grave let music's full completeness 
 Echo above to Heaven's sweet summer land. 
 
 Rest, mother, rest, we love thee now as ever, 
 
 And though with care our souls may be opprest, 
 Not even death a mother's love can sever 
 
 Life's dearest friend, divinest, purest, best. 
 While by your grave we kneel with strong emotion, 
 
 And breathe our earnest benedictions there, 
 We know that, when across life's troubled ocean, 
 
 We'll meet again in answer to our prayer. 
 
 SWEET VALE OF CONNOTTON. 
 
 [The home of the author was for many years in the Connotton valley, 
 in eastern Ohio, and through which flows Connotton creek, whose 
 waters move so slowly as to leave scarcely a ripple upon the sur 
 face, excepting in time of heavy rains along the valley, when it 
 overflows Us banks and assumes the dignity of a river. The 
 scenery is perfectly charming.] 
 
 Sweet vale of Connotton, 
 
 Ever dear to my soul ; 
 Where the soft sunshine plays 
 
 And thy calm waters roll ; 
 Others sing of the power 
 
 Of the proud rolling sea ; 
 But sweet vale of Connotton 
 
 Thou art heaven to me.
 
 26 
 
 Here the robin trills songs 
 
 To the birds in her nest, 
 And with tender caresses 
 
 She soothes them to rest, 
 Then she sings to her mate 
 
 From the juniper tree ; 
 While sweet vale of Connotton 
 
 Thou art heaven to me. 
 
 Ever quietly onward 
 
 Thy calm river flows ; 
 With a smile on its bosom, 
 
 Of tranquil repose, 
 And dreaming beside thee 
 
 My spirit is free ; 
 For sweet vale of Connotton 
 
 Thou art heaven to me. 
 
 If from thee, loved valley, 
 
 My footsteps should stray, 
 And with strangers around me 
 
 Find a home far away ; 
 Bright and green in loved memory 
 
 Shall thy scenes ever be 
 For sweet vale of Connotton 
 
 Thou art heaven to me.
 
 27 
 
 CROCUS. 
 
 This morning beside my window 
 I heard a voice strangely complete; 
 
 A robin was calling her lover 
 
 In words that were thrillingly sweet, 
 
 O'er-charmed by the voice of the singer, 
 I reverently bowed my head low, 
 
 When, behold ! a dark-eyed little crocus 
 Was peeping from under the snow. 
 
 I caught up the fresh little beauty, 
 But deep in its pure heart of gold 
 
 I knew its young life held a sorrow 
 Which had not as yet been told. 
 
 For when I pressed fondly its bosom, 
 And looked in its heavenly eyes, 
 
 The delicate blossom was weeping, 
 I found to my tearful surprise. 
 
 I asked of the Crocus, sincerely, 
 
 '' What giveth your young heart pain ? 
 
 The roses that sleep close beside you 
 Are striving to waken, in vain. 
 
 You, of all the fair flowers of my garden, 
 Have heard the sweet songs of the spring, 
 
 And thus to be favored, believe me, 
 Is not such a vain little thing."
 
 The Crocus half folded its petals 
 Thus shading its eyes of dark blue 
 
 And modestly answered, " My story 
 Of sorrow, I'll now give to you. 
 
 I know that the Crocus is favored, 
 To hear the first robin's love song, 
 
 And to hear the light feet of the south-wind 
 As softly it dances along ; 
 
 But through all the long lineage of Crocus 
 
 It ever has been our sad lot, 
 That when roses and lilies were blooming 
 
 The Crocus was always forgot." 
 
 Ah, thus it has been and is ever, 
 We constantly languish and sigh 
 
 For some unattainable blessing, 
 Refusing the blessing that's nigh ; 
 
 And thus a most excellent lesson, 
 
 I never before could know, 
 I have learned from a plain little Crocus 
 
 Just peeping from under the snow. 
 
 IF WE COULD KNOW. 
 
 If we could know how many years of life, 
 Where thorns are growing 'mid the fitful strife, 
 Our tired feet must walk the weary road
 
 29 - 
 
 That leads the pilgrim to the unknown abode 
 Beyond the frontier oh, if we could know. 
 
 If we could lift the veil and bring to view 
 The hidden page, and read its mysteries through- 
 Though we were wiser for the knowledge gained, 
 Would we be happier for the wish attained ? 
 If we could know ah ! yes, if we could know. 
 
 If we could know why, in the mystic past 
 Joy was a dream, too bright and fair to last, 
 And hope a phantom, mocking all the while 
 She beckoned us, with weird enchanting smile ; 
 Then left us sorrowing in the vale below. 
 
 If we could know where want and woe abide, 
 And pain is constant at the mourner's side, 
 Would we make haste to dry the sufferer's tears 
 And smooth the pathway of the coming years, 
 Whispering sweet consolation soft and low? 
 
 This we can know we have a work to do, 
 Though mercy hides the future from our view. 
 Behold the stars around the crescent rise 
 To brighten earth with splendor from the skies, 
 Veiling their faces when the storm winds blow. 
 
 The past to us a faithful lesson proves 
 That while the green earth in her circle moves, 
 Joy, hope and pain shall journey hand in hand 
 With faith, the harbor of the heavenly land. 
 There we shall know in glory we shall know.
 
 _ 3 o- 
 JONQUIL. 
 
 Just as the voice of the robin, clear 
 
 Warbles the welcome song "spring is here ; " 
 
 Bright little jonquil in sweet surprise 
 
 You peep through the snow with your dreaming eyes. 
 
 In your heart of hearts, do the pulse waves swell 
 
 As the music floats from your golden bell ? 
 
 Is there never a heart throb, never a sigh 
 
 As you glance from the earth to the far off sky ? 
 
 Deep down in your bosom to me would seem 
 A magical throne for a fairy queen ; 
 Where with the soft touch of her delicate hand 
 She could bless all the flowers in her fairy land. 
 How pure is the life you so briefly live 
 For you ask not a joy for the joy you give 
 While you scatter your jewels so rich and rare 
 Through your kingdom of love, which is everywhere. 
 
 Oh ! dear little jonquil you speak to me 
 Of the possible hopes that are yet to be ; 
 For out in the storm where the clouds drop low 
 You smile through the flakes of enchanted snow. 
 What cared you for the rain or the winter's cold 
 As you calmly unfolded your frill of gold ; 
 Then brushing the clouds from your shining hair 
 You bowed to the world from your golden chair.
 
 -3 1 - 
 
 Svveet flower so humble and yet so grand, 
 'Tis well to know you and understand 
 That modest worth though it hide away 
 From the glory and pomp of life's summer day ; 
 Is the first to come, when the wintry pall 
 Of sorrow and storm-clouds around us fall ; 
 And brighten our lives with the soft sunshine 
 And the tender memories of sweet spring time. 
 
 PRETTY LITTLE MAIDEN. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Maiden, I would speak to thee. 
 
 Pretty little maiden, 
 On the threshold of thy life, 
 
 Arms with roses laden ; 
 All day long gathering fairest flowers, 
 Dreaming not of pain nor care 
 
 In this world of ours. 
 
 Maiden, I would tell thee now 
 Of approaching danger 
 
 Do not listen to a vow 
 
 Spoken by a stranger. 
 
 Blue-eyed maid, fairer than the roses, 
 On thy tender, blushing cheek 
 Innocence reposes.
 
 - 3 2 
 
 Men will worship at thy shrine 
 Maiden dear, believe me 
 
 Calling thee by names divine, 
 Only to deceive thee. 
 
 Turn away, all their praises scorning 
 
 From the gay deceiver's smile 
 
 Listen to my warning. 
 
 Maiden, I would say " good-bye ; " 
 
 May no ill betide thee. 
 Should the tempter's power be nigh 
 
 Holy angels guide thee, 
 Safe from harm, pure as morning flowers, 
 Dreaming not of pain nor care 
 
 In this world of ours. 
 
 OUR SILVER WEDDING SONG. 
 
 [Kindly inscribed to Hon. J. L. McCreery and Mrs. McCreery, Wash 
 ington, D. C., on the occasion of their Silver Wedding.] 
 
 Just tive-and-twenty years ago 
 Our lives were joined together, 
 
 To walk through life's mysterious paths 
 In calm and stormy weather ; 
 
 O'er mountain heights and forest glade, 
 
 With roses blooming in the shade.
 
 -33 
 
 Your eyes so gentle, yet so bright, 
 
 So blissful in their seeming, 
 Were full of heaven's diviner light, 
 
 Like meadow violets dreaming ; 
 Your lips, like cherries ripe and red, 
 
 So pure in their caressing, 
 Inspired with every word you said 
 
 New beauty with a blessing. 
 
 Your cheeks were like the nectarine 
 When summer sunset flushes 
 
 The landscape with a crimson sheen- 
 It drops its head and blushes. 
 
 Your smile was like the golden ray 
 That flashes from love's quiver, 
 
 And brightened every passing day 
 With hopes that live forever. 
 
 Your voice, my love, was music sweet, 
 
 My trusting soul entrancing, 
 As when the brooklet's joyful feet 
 
 Goes o'er the meadow dancing; 
 But autumn time has only touched 
 
 Your brow with dainty fingers, 
 For with a pure and hallowed light 
 
 The summer sunset lingers. 
 
 My darling, though the faded years 
 Were blent with joy and sorrow, 
 
 The days that brought us passing tears 
 
 Brought sunshine for the morrow. 
 3
 
 34- 
 
 And when one darling from the nest 
 Fled up to heaven's fair bowers, 
 
 Two blushing buds were fondly press' d 
 Upon these hearts of ours. 
 
 And while our silver wedding bells 
 
 Without are gaily ringing, 
 The dear old songs that memory tells 
 
 Our loving hearts are singing. 
 With you, my love, my future hope 
 
 Of happiness reposes- ; 
 For you have made life's darkest path 
 
 A very path of roses. 
 
 MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT. 
 
 In the morning I gathered fresh flowers 
 
 On the shore of a crimson sea, 
 When beside me there came a fairy form 
 
 And whispered sweet words to me ; 
 And the music of hope filled the morning air, 
 While joy with its blessings was everywhere. 
 
 But with pain I am now toiling on, 
 My tasks growing harder each day, 
 
 And I toss my sweet flowers in the dreamy sea 
 And with tears see them drifting away.
 
 35- 
 
 Ah, why have my hopes fled away so soon, 
 While yet it is only the hour of noon. 
 
 It is night, and the golden stars 
 Slowly rise on the amber shore ; 
 
 And I know I am nearer to Heaven now 
 Than I ever was before. 
 
 And though summer fades and the winters go 
 
 The world is the whiter for winter's snow. 
 
 I AM TRUSTING IN GOD. 
 
 I am trusting in God, 
 
 And I see the land of glory ; 
 I hear the angels singing from afar ; 
 The words that they sing are the well -remembered story 
 Of how the heavenly gates were left ajar. 
 I know my Redeemer is waiting to receive me, 
 And the day of my rejoicing is begun, 
 For I hear a sweet voice saying "trusting soul, believe me, 
 And the work of your salvation is begun." 
 
 I am trusting in God, 
 
 And I see the silent river ; 
 I know the ship of Death is sailing near ; 
 But the love of my Saviour shall bear me on forever, 
 And my happy soul has nothing ill to fear ;
 
 -36- 
 
 Above me I hear precious voices sweetly singing, 
 Loving spirits are around me everywhere ; 
 Sweet and sweeter the music that in my soul is ringing, 
 And they tell me I shall meet them over there. 
 
 I am trusting in God, 
 For I know that pain and sorrow 
 And the weary, weary toiling of to-day 
 Shall be lost in the brightness of Heaven's grand to-mor 
 row, 
 
 When the Master's hand shall wipe our tears away. 
 All around is the splendor of angels in the chorus ; 
 On the shore, see the shining armies stand, 
 Of the friends who have conquered and only gone before us 
 To their rest in the happy Beulah land. 
 
 I am trusting in God ; 
 
 Friends farewell, but not forever. 
 Dearest mother, though our parting gives you pain, 
 Far beyond the blue sky, where no earthly hand can sever, 
 We shall meet, and to never part again. 
 Precious mother, your love like a holy benediction, 
 Hath so oft given my fainting spirit rest, 
 And I know that the Lord will sustain you in affliction, 
 Till you enter in the mansions of the blest.
 
 -37- 
 HIS FOOTSTEP AT THE DOOR. 
 
 [Music by Kimball; published by S. Brainard's Sons.] 
 
 I am waiting, I am waiting, 
 
 Fondly waiting for my sweet, 
 Where the evening shadows gather 
 
 For the coming of his feet ; 
 Where daisies white are blooming, x . 
 
 Like drifts of scented snow, 
 Where my darling knelt beside me 
 
 In the years of long ago. 
 
 In my soul his kisses linger, 
 
 With his voice so sweet and low, 
 And the fond " good-bye " he whispered 
 
 When he told me he must go. 
 Will the holy angels guard him 
 
 As they never did before ! 
 While alone I wait the coming 
 
 Of his footstep at the door. 
 
 May my prayers to Heaven ascending, 
 
 Hopeful, trusting, pure and true, 
 Bring to him a benediction 
 
 Gentle as the falling dew ; 
 And the white sail proudly gleaming 
 
 Out upon Love's shimmering sea, 
 In kind answer to my pleading, 
 
 Bring my darling back to me.
 
 -38- 
 
 DAFFODIL. 
 
 Fragrant little blossom 
 
 Blooming all alone ; 
 Greeting me with gladness, 
 
 Darling little one : 
 Near thy velvet pillow 
 
 Angel feet have trod, 
 And thy form was fashioned 
 
 By the hand of God. 
 
 Envious little blossom, 
 
 Thus I hear you say 
 "Why was I created 
 
 In this plain array ? 
 For I hear the robins 
 
 Laughing as they trill, 
 ' Though an early blossom 
 
 'Tisbuta daffodil." 
 
 Darling little blossom, 
 
 Beauty, love and grace 
 Are 'not always blended 
 
 In a handsome face; 
 Each one has a station 
 
 He may nobly fill ; 
 Though it may be lowly 
 
 As the daffodil.
 
 39- 
 MY LITTLE SON AND I. 
 
 The sun on the eastern hill-tops 
 
 Is pouring a golden flood, 
 While evening with smiles advances, 
 
 A queen in her purple robe. 
 We rest in the flaming splendor 
 
 Dreamily watching the sky, 
 And our souls are 'rapt in the glory, 
 
 My little son and I. 
 
 Higher the crimson rises 
 
 Brighter the flames of gold ; 
 In vain would my soul describe them, 
 
 Such grandeur can ne'er be told. 
 For only the hand of an angel 
 
 Could paint on the sapphire sky 
 Those tints that entrance with their beauty 
 
 My little son and I. 
 
 But the robe of the evening is fading, 
 
 And hushed is the day-bird's song, 
 While whippoorwill in the gloaming 
 
 His sorrowful notes prolong. 
 Yet around us is floating a splendor, 
 
 For we know that e'en heaven is nigh, 
 And we fold to our hearts each other, 
 
 My little son and I.
 
 WE SILENTLY SLUMBER AT LAST. 
 
 This life is a fanciful stage of commotion, 
 
 A dream that is faded and past ; 
 A voyage soon made o'er a storm troubled ocean 
 
 Then we silently slumber at last ; 
 We slumber at last, we slumber at last, 
 
 \Ve silently slumber at last. 
 
 From day unto day souls grown weary with pleading 
 Have mourned for the hours that are past ; 
 
 But the poor wounded heart, over weak from its bleeding, 
 Shall silently slumber at last, 
 
 Shall slumber at last, shall slumber at last ; 
 Shall silently slumber at last. 
 
 Then how can we scornfully jostle each other, 
 
 Or withhold love's endearing repast, 
 When the people we meet, be they stranger or brother, 
 
 Shall silently slumber at last ; 
 Shall slumber at last, shall slumber at last ; 
 
 Shall silently slumber at last. 
 
 Oh, then let us give from love's ocean of sweetness, 
 
 Forgetting all wrongs of the past, 
 Such gems as will bring to us heaven's completeness 
 
 When we silently slumber at last ; 
 When we slumber at last, when we slumber at last, 
 
 When we silently slumber at last.
 
 41 
 PRETTY ROBIN-REDBREAST. 
 
 [Published in sheet-music form by Annie Pixley, with a picture 
 of Miss Pixley on title page.] 
 
 Pretty robin -redbreast 
 
 Near my cottage door ; 
 Asking for a crumb of bread 
 
 This, and nothing more. 
 In your sweet contentment, 
 
 Singing me a song, 
 Where have you been wandering 
 
 All the winter long ? 
 
 In the maple branches; 
 
 Where the daisies grow ; 
 Where the dancing streamlet 
 
 Murmurs in its flow ; 
 Have you little birdlets 
 
 In a downy nest, 
 Waiting to be folded 
 To their mother's breast? 
 
 Pretty robin-redbreast, 
 
 Darling little friend, 
 Should a note of sorrow 
 
 With your music blend ; 
 Will you not remember 
 
 Though you sadly sing 
 Joy attuned to sadness 
 
 Is a precious thing.
 
 42 
 
 Pretty robin-redbreast, 
 
 Sing your sweet refrain ; 
 Bringing dreams of summer time 
 
 Back to me again ; 
 June with roses laden, 
 
 Fields of yellow wheat, 
 Rich with summer sweetness, 
 
 Gathered at my feet. 
 
 FROZEN. 
 
 I gathered some plants with a tender hand, 
 They were gorgeous as those of a tropical land. 
 Their censers all laden with rich perfume. 
 I placed them in pots ; for a friend had said, 
 " If tenderly nursed they will live, and shed 
 Rich volumes of fragrance, to cheer the gloom 
 Of the winter days in your quiet room." 
 
 An artisan came with a magic hand 
 
 And traced on my window panes fairy land 
 
 Gleaming lakes of silver, and mountains of snow. 
 
 He labored hard the wily old wight 
 
 To build up such grandeur in one short night ; 
 
 Then he told my green plants that he loved them so 
 
 And said " kiss me good-bye before I go."
 
 43 
 
 Morning arose and bright billows of gold 
 O'er hill-top, meadow and streamlet rolled ; 
 Through curtains of amber and crimson they shed 
 Soft roseate tints ; a warm summer glow 
 That strangely contrasted with winter's snow, 
 But my plants were frozen, their beauty had fled, 
 And all, save one little rose tree was dead. 
 
 Thus many fond hearts, by false love beguiled, 
 Are drooping and fading in anguish wild ; 
 And no smile of morn, nor crimson bright, 
 Can bring to their faded cheeks the light 
 Of other days, but still lives for me 
 In its blushing beauty, my fair rose tree. 
 
 REST. 
 
 There is rest for the weary one 
 
 Rest for the meek ; 
 There is rest near the setting sun 
 
 Rest for the weak. 
 There is rest for the troubled heart 
 
 Rest for the soul ; 
 Gilead's precious balm 
 
 Maketh us whole.
 
 -44 
 
 There is rest where good angels sing 
 
 All the day long ; 
 Where the friends we so dearly love 
 
 Join in the song. 
 There is rest where the aching heart 
 
 Knoweth no pain 
 Where voices of darling ones 
 
 Greet us again. 
 
 Then go to the Blessed One 
 
 Lean on His breast ; 
 Cast your burden of care on Him 
 
 Who promises rest. 
 Kindly He pities you 
 
 Weeps when you weep, 
 And when life's tasks are done 
 
 Giveth sweet sleep. 
 
 AUTUMN GLORY. 
 
 October waves a proud farewell 
 
 With trailing robes of crimson splendor, 
 And presses with her jeweled hand 
 
 The trembling hand of chill November, 
 Then bending closer, whispers low, 
 
 In words of more than summer sweetness, 
 Behold ! the promise of the land 
 
 Now garnered in its full completeness !
 
 45 
 
 White curtains drape the western sky, 
 
 Embroidered with the gold of heaven, 
 While from the amber-tinted folds 
 
 A balmy breeze is softly driven. 
 A robin sings a parting song, 
 
 And sets the wooded hills a-ringing, 
 While from the trellis at the door 
 
 The jasmine bells are gently swinging. 
 
 Tall spikes of feathered golden-rod 
 
 Are pointing with their jeweled fingers, 
 Across the emerald fields of wheat, 
 
 Where the rich kiss of summer lingers. 
 The sun looks on with raptured gaze, 
 
 And like a fond, devoted lover, 
 He kisses with impassioned grace 
 
 The blushes from late blooms of clover. 
 
 Now comes the blissful Hallowe'en 
 
 When holly-branch, a gift possessing, 
 Reveals the future yet to be, 
 
 Endowing life with every blessing. 
 The blushing maid, with guileless heart, 
 
 Turns pale with transport to discover 
 Reflected in her looking-glass, 
 
 The features of her own true lover. 
 
 Pale violets down beneath the sod 
 
 Have closed their eyes so sweetly tender, 
 
 To dream of a returning spring 
 Regardless of a bleak November.
 
 Nature, still truthful to the last, 
 Confirms the oft-repeated story, 
 
 That splendor of the summer time 
 
 Can ne'er compare with autumn glory. 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Ohio, I love thee, for deeds thou has done ; 
 
 Thy conflicts recorded and victories won ; 
 
 On the pages of history, beaming and bright, 
 
 Ohio shines forth like a star in the night. 
 
 Like a star flashing out o'er the mountain's bine crest, 
 
 Lighting up with its glory the land of the west ; 
 
 For thy step onward marching and voice to command, 
 
 Ohio, I love thee, thou beautiful land. 
 
 Commonwealth grandly rising in majesty tall 
 In the girdle of beauty the fairest of all. 
 Tho' thunders of nations around thee may roar 
 Their strong tidal waves dash and break on thy shore- 
 Standing prouder and firmer when danger is nigh, 
 With a power to endure and an arm to defy; 
 Ohio shall spread her broad wings to the world, 
 Her bugles resounding and banners unfurled.
 
 -47 
 
 A queen in her dignity, proudly she stands, 
 Reaching out to her sister states wealth-laden hands. 
 Crovvn'd with plentiful harvests and fruit from the vine, 
 And riches increasing in ores from the mine. 
 While with Liberty's banner unfurled to the sky 
 Resolved for the UNION to do or to die 
 Her soldiers and statesmen unflinchingly come, 
 'Mid booming of cannon and roll of the drum. 
 
 To glory still onward, we're marching along, 
 Ev'ry heart true and noble re-echoes the song, 
 Ever pledged to each other, through years that have fled, 
 We have hopes for the living, and tears for the dead. 
 Bless the heroes who suffered, but died not in vain ; 
 Keep the flag that we love without tarnish or stain. 
 Thus uniting with all, shall my song ever be 
 Ohio, my home-land, my heart clings to thee ! 
 
 COME WHERE THE FLOWERS LIE SLEEPING. 
 
 Come where the flowers lie sleeping 
 
 Down in their crystal beds ; 
 Come where the shy little violets 
 
 Are resting there weary heads. 
 Come in the early morning, 
 
 Come in the fading gray, 
 Come where the painted rose-tints 
 
 Reveal the sweet smiles of day.
 
 4 8 
 
 Come in the golden noontide ; 
 
 Pause where the blossoms sleep ; 
 Dreaming of last year's blushes, 
 
 And the tears that e'en flowers must weep. 
 Hope for the coming springtime 
 
 With its incense of fragrant dew, 
 When winter shall drop its mantle 
 
 And bring the fresh flowers to view. 
 
 Come in the hush of evening 
 
 Come with a noiseless tread ; 
 Whisper of loving caresses 
 
 Oft-given the flowers we call dead. 
 For soon shall the birds in the branches 
 
 Awaken with musical trill, 
 The eyes of each delicate blossom 
 
 Whose pulses of life are still. 
 
 Come when the heart in its anguish 
 
 Bleeds for the dearest and best, 
 Who faded when summer was fading 
 
 Arid folded her pure hands to rest. 
 Turn to the beautiful city 
 
 Oh, there, let your anguish'd soul rise, 
 Where the fair flower, your loving heart cherished, 
 
 Wakes to life in the heavenly skies.
 
 49 
 
 FOR ME, SWEET BIRDS. 
 
 While nature pours its choicest gifts 
 
 Into the lap of June, 
 And flowers awakened at her voice 
 
 Come laden with perfume; 
 Oh, sing your songs for me, sweet birds, 
 
 Your tender, trusting, loving words, 
 Whose music thrills my soul with joy, 
 
 Light-hearted, happy birds. 
 
 Your mystic rhymes of ecstasy, 
 
 Fall softly on my ear ; 
 They tell me winter's power is past 
 
 And summer now is here. 
 Oh, sing your songs for me, sweet birds, 
 
 There's magic in your loving words, 
 And summer would not summer be 
 
 Without your songs, sweet birds. 
 
 You bear me back to childhood's hours, 
 
 Those long departed years, 
 And though I love to hear your songs, 
 
 My eyes grow dim with tears. 
 But tears are hallowed mysteries 
 
 Our lives would fain conceal, 
 And thus your soul-enchanting words 
 
 Oft dearest hopes reveal. 
 4
 
 5 
 THERE IS A DIFFERENCE. 
 
 There is a difference, though the sun's bright rays 
 
 Shine on the just and unjust alike, 
 And unto each are given equal days, 
 
 Still we divine not Heaven's mysterious ways. 
 
 There is a difference, oft vainly the good may toil 
 To give beloved ones comfort, and sweet rest ; 
 
 Remorseless penury may like a serpent coil 
 And blighting weeds o'ergrow the fertile soil. 
 
 There is a difference, virtue so often blamed 
 Shrinks from the heartless gaze of cruel scorn, 
 
 While laurels and glad songs have oft proclaimed 
 Honors all undeserved to those who attained. 
 
 The unjust man, with intellectual power 
 
 May classify the stars and call their names, . 
 
 Unfolding each bright page of hidden lore 
 While rustics wonder all the more and more. 
 
 But he may languish on a couch of pain, 
 
 His friends dark-eyed Remorse and fierce Despair, 
 
 His sins upon him like a withering flame 
 
 Heaven's birthright sold, for greed of earthly gain. 
 
 Repine not faithful soul, by care oppressed, 
 Hard is the battle but soon victory won 
 
 Shall blazon thy banners. Heaven's imperial crest 
 Shall point the way to God's eternal rest.
 
 EMANCIPATION DAY. 
 
 Read by Milton Holland at the Emancipation Banquet, Washington, 
 D. C., April 1 3th, 1883.] 
 
 Sound aloud the trump of freedom, 
 
 Let the answering echo ring, 
 
 While with liberty commanding, 
 
 We our heartfelt tribute bring ; 
 
 As we gather round Columbia, 
 
 Let us scatter on the way 
 
 Flowers of love and flowers of trusting, 
 
 For Emancipation Day. 
 
 Let us pray for benedictions 
 
 While we bow in reverence low 
 
 At the shrine of noble heroes, 
 
 Bravely charging on the foe. 
 
 Gladly we hear our welcome, 
 
 To this feast of Liberty. 
 
 WELCOME. 
 
 Lo, the car of progress moving, 
 Over all Columbia's land ; 
 Gifted men are proudly coming 
 And we take them by the hand 
 Men of different race and color, 
 Yet our peers in soul and brain, 
 And their names shall soon be sculptured 
 On the towering dome of fame.
 
 -52- 
 
 Float aloft the stars of glory, 
 For we love to tell the story 
 That is written on the pages 
 Of Columbia's record true ; 
 How amid the cannon's rattle, 
 And the shot and shell of battle, 
 Chains of living death were broken 
 By our gallant boys in blue ! 
 
 Ah ! our soldiers never faltered ; 
 Never heeded they the gloom ; 
 Quailed not when the shock of battle 
 Seemed the eternal knell of doom ; 
 But with comrades pale and bleeding 
 Only heard Columbia pleading 
 " Wipe away from my escutcheon 
 Every trace of human woe. 
 Let my rightful sons and daughters 
 Of whatever race they be, 
 Hear the clarion voice of heroes, 
 Making way for liberty. 
 
 Let no cloud of dark oppression 
 Linger in Columbia's sky ; 
 Let the joyful shout of freedom 
 Rise aloft to God on high ! " 
 
 Days were dark and fierce the struggle- 
 Can it be the day is lost ?
 
 53- 
 
 Came from many an anguished mother, 
 
 As she reckoned up the cost 
 
 Of the blood and of the treasure, 
 
 Given freely without measure, 
 
 As the price of liberty. 
 
 But amid the desolation, 
 Spreading o'er our glorious land 
 Came the news Emancipation 
 Has been reached the proclamation, 
 Far above the cannon's roar 
 Sounded loud, o'er hill and valley 
 Bells were ringing, hearts were singing, 
 As they never sung before. 
 
 For the shackels had been broken, 
 And four million souls were free, 
 That 'till then had never tasted 
 Of the joys of liberty ! 
 And to-day we gladly greet them, 
 As we gather 'round to meet them, 
 And to take them by the hand 
 Men whose throbbing souls ignited 
 At the watch-fires freedom lighted. 
 Freedom's altar fires, still burning 
 Flash and sparkle at each turning, 
 As the car of progress moving, 
 Rolls them on to nobler fame.
 
 54- 
 
 A WINTER DAY. 
 
 Beside my cottage, in their towering height, 
 
 Rise purple hills, crowned with a sunset light ; 
 
 Kissed by a breath of such peculiar sweetness 
 
 That heaven bows down, in all its grand completeness. 
 
 The western sky is flecked with drops of gold 
 
 Richer by far than poet's song has told 
 
 In vain a painter's art would dare portray 
 
 The glowing splendor of the closing day. 
 
 But ah ! the trees in seeming desolation, 
 
 Lift up their hands in feeble supplication ; 
 
 Yet with the prayer this hopeful thought is blended 
 
 "To us, the day of beauty is not ended ; 
 
 Though from our arms the whispering leaves are fled 
 
 Within our hearts the life-power is not dead ; 
 
 Soon from our branches shall the wild birds sing 
 
 Amid the foliage of the coming spring." 
 
 Ever thus, our souls so subject to temptation, 
 We gladly know are not our own creation. 
 Though ruthless hands our dearest joys may sever 
 Trusting in God we shall not fail, no never. 
 And should we work through years of vain endeavor 
 The victor's wreath shall crown the bright forever, 
 And hopes that now lie faded at our feet 
 Shall bloom again, in endless fragrance sweet.
 
 55 
 MY LOVE OF LONG AGO. 
 
 [Music by Bischoff, published by John Church & Co. ] 
 
 Down by the silvery sea to-night 
 
 The sky is all aglow, 
 And crowned by evening's golden light 
 
 The sparkling breakers flow ; 
 And I am waiting for my love 
 
 As dear as life can be 
 Oh, winds that float from heaven above, 
 
 Pray bring him back to me. 
 
 'Twas down beside the silvery sea 
 
 On that sweet summer day, 
 My lover pledged his vows to me, 
 
 And then he sailed away. 
 Ah, I have waited through the years, 
 
 And watched the sails go by, 
 And cherished hopes with all my tears, 
 
 But yet, no ship is nigh. 
 
 Oh, sweet south-wind beside the sea, 
 
 I ask this boon of you, 
 Go tell my lover this for me 
 
 That still my heart is true. 
 And may the holy angels guide 
 
 His steps where'er they go, 
 And Heaven grant no ill betide 
 
 My love of long ago.
 
 -56- 
 MY LOVE IS TRUE TO ME. 
 
 ANSWER TO MY LOVE OF LONG AGO. 
 
 SONG. 
 My darling I have heard your song 
 
 And know your prayers for me, 
 And know that you have waited long 
 
 And watched beside the sea. 
 And while my barque is sailing home 
 
 Bright, with its freight of gold, 
 Your voice of love that bids me come 
 
 Is more a thousand fold. 
 
 Your love has been my guiding star 
 
 Though clouds might intervene ; 
 It whispers softly from afar, 
 
 As meadow violets dream. 
 And though I sail the stormy sea, 
 
 My soul is all for you 
 What greater joy of earth can be 
 
 When you my love are true ? 
 
 Soon 'neath the glowing western sky, 
 
 We'll anchor in the bay, 
 And then with joy my love and I 
 
 Shall name the happy day. 
 With memory's golden chain secure, 
 
 My darling's life shall know, 
 My vows of love and faith are pure 
 
 As in the long ago.
 
 57 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 [Dedicated to Welch Post, G. A. R., Department of Ohio.] 
 
 The year draws near its close, and in the sobbing air, 
 We hear the voice of winter everywhere ; 
 Within our homes the cheerful embers glow, 
 While softly falls the winter's crown of snow. 
 The ripened harvests garnered safe away, 
 Secure us plenty for each coming day, 
 And thus, with grateful hearts our thanks are given 
 To Him who gives us home and gives us heaven. 
 
 How short the years are seeming but a day 
 Since men, as comrades, bravely marched away ; 
 For they had heard the ominous tocsin bell 
 That tolled a dirge, when proud Fort Sumter fell. 
 Their partings said then mothers, sisters, wives 
 Bade them God speed, with tender, tearful eyes ; 
 While sweethearts blushed and tried in vain to still 
 The heart-throbs, that each loving word would thrill. 
 
 The strongest comrade shed a manly tear, 
 When low sweet words revealed the parting near ; 
 And men who braved the cannon's thundering roar 
 Trembled and faltered at the roof-tree door. 
 But on the field, where, battle-stained and torn 
 The glorious flag of liberty was borne 
 By stalwart hands all danger to defy 
 The shout went up, " For liberty we die."
 
 -53- 
 
 Ah, how the loved ones, waited day by day 
 
 For messages from heroes far away ; 
 
 And how they wept, no poet's pen can tell, 
 
 To read the record, how some hero fell. 
 
 Year after year the shock of battle rang 
 
 Throughout the land, and brought each heart a pang ; 
 
 And graves were made, amid our hopes and fears, 
 
 And loyal blood was mingled with our tears. 
 
 We sometimes felt our prayers were all in vain ; 
 
 The roll was called " three hundred thousand slain ! " 
 
 But God knew best, and gave our eyes to see 
 
 The golden light ; four million souls were free ! 
 
 And we to-day can boast the honored name 
 
 Of gallant men who fell among the slain 
 
 One on the field, and one passed on above 
 
 While teaching Heaven's ministry of love.* 
 
 And while the years go by, with birds and flowers, 
 We'll ne'er forget these comrades brave of ours ; 
 When reveille proclaims the morning light, 
 Or tattoo sounds, 'mid gathering shades of night ; 
 Or when 'round camp fire we together meet, 
 To make unwritten history more complete 
 Memory will bring anew the tearful scene, 
 How we, on duty, shared the same canteen. 
 
 * Welch Post was named in honor of two brave soldiers who were 
 residents of Tuscarawas county, Ohio.
 
 59- 
 
 And when God's armies muster into line 
 With angels, worshipping at the eternal shrine ; 
 WELCH POST will " forward march " at tap of drum, 
 And hear the plaudit, faithful souls " well done." 
 With comrades brave from over all our land 
 We'll marshal forces at the Great Command, 
 In solid colum, rank and file shall rest, 
 In heavenly armor, helmet, shield and crest. 
 
 MARGUERITE. 
 
 [Music by Bischoff. published by John Church & Co.] 
 
 Star-eyed flow' ret, Marguerite, 
 You have wakened from your dream, 
 In the meadow by the stream 
 Where the laughing little brook 
 (Brighest page in nature's book) 
 Heard the lily from its throne 
 In a gentle undertone 
 Whisper to itself alone ; 
 " Marguerite, Marguefite." 
 
 Star-eyed flow'ret, Marguerite, 
 Have you loving words to tell, 
 Of the pleasant woodland dell, 
 Where the violet in surprise
 
 6o 
 
 Opened wide its dreaming eyes; 
 When the fairies' dancing feet, 
 And the thrushes' music sweet, 
 Made your humble life complete, 
 Marguerite, Marguerite. 
 
 ON THE EVERGREEN SHORE. 
 
 [In Memory of Miss L. W. F.] 
 
 Oh sweet be thy slumber, my darling, 
 
 In Heaven thy loved spirit shall rest 
 From sorrow and sin and temptation, 
 
 At home with the saints ever blest. 
 Oh, zephyrs of spring-time float softly, 
 
 And wake not her gentle repose, 
 Whose life like a bright flower unfolded 
 
 Like a swift fading flower was its close. 
 
 I knew that her dear life was fading, 
 
 As a rose when it blushes at even, 
 When kissed by thg breath of the summer 
 
 That wafts its sweet perfume to heaven ; 
 For when shadows of evening were falling, 
 
 And the stars lighting up the blue sky, 
 Angel voices around her were calltng, 
 
 I heard their soft wings rustle by.
 
 6i 
 
 While on through life's tiresome journey, 
 
 I wearily toil day by day, 
 I'll trust in the blessed Redeemer, 
 
 And think of my child when I pray ; 
 My darling, as fair as the roses 
 
 That bloom with the coming of spring ; 
 Whose dear form in silence reposes 
 
 Where birds of the summer-time sing. 
 
 Far away is a beautiful river 
 
 That flows by the evergreen shore, 
 Where the angels make music forever, 
 
 And where friends meet to part nevermore. 
 And I know that my child will be waiting 
 
 On the banks of that river for me ; 
 When I hear the blest words of our Saviour, 
 
 " Welcome home, for thy spirit is free." 
 
 THE RECOMPENSE OF FAITH. 
 
 I had struggled in the darkness 
 
 In the darkness of the night ; 
 While no ray of golden sunshine 
 
 Shed its gleam of glorious light. 
 And when fain among the reapers, 
 
 I would gather up the sheaves, 
 I could only find before me 
 
 A few dead and withered leaves.
 
 62 
 
 While my hands were worn and weary, 
 
 And my feet with thorns all scarred, 
 And the lessons suffering taught me, 
 
 Were both practical and hard ; 
 Still I knew that God intended 
 
 That my hands should gather flowers ; 
 Else why were they strewn so thickly 
 
 In this changeful world of ours ? 
 
 Thus with patient faith I waited ; 
 
 Trusting on from day to day, 
 'Till I found my path grow brighter, 
 
 For the clouds were giving way. 
 Then I knelt before the Master, 
 
 And with trembling and with tears 
 I revered Him for the mercy, 
 
 That had kept me through the years. 
 
 Through the weary years of trial, 
 
 When no earthly friend was nigh 
 To relieve my heavy burdens, 
 
 Nor to hear my pleading cry. 
 Now I ask for grace to keep me 
 
 Till my tasks of life are done ; 
 Till life's work shall all be ended, 
 
 And the crown of victory won.
 
 -63- 
 REST, NOBLE HERO, REST. 
 
 [Read Memorial Day, 1884, at the grave of Col. Alfred B. Meacham, 
 of Modoc fame.] 
 
 Rest, hero, rest, thy care and toil is done. 
 Thy battle ended and thy victory won ; 
 Thy path through life was often dark and drear, 
 Yet faith's eternal lamp was bright and clear ; 
 Thy trusting soul in darkest hours would stand 
 Amid the joy of Heaven's sweet summer-land. 
 Though thou did'st suffer much and suffer long, 
 Pain always made thy dauntless spirit strong, 
 And 'mid the storms of sorrow's wild unrest, 
 They always loved thee most who knew thee best. 
 
 Friend of the friendless ones, whose council fires 
 
 Burn low in memory of departed sires ; 
 
 Who, in the solemn grandeur of the wood 
 
 Hear the Great Spirit whisper, Heaven is good ; 
 
 Whose faith sublime with ours might well compare ; 
 
 For unto them God dwelleth everywhere. 
 
 'Tis true, they sent the bullet in the fray, 
 
 To take from thee thy precious life away; 
 
 But when they found thee still their faithful friend, 
 
 They loved thee well and loved thee to the end. 
 
 Rest, hero, rest, we love thee now, as in departed years, 
 While on thy grave we place these flowers and bless them 
 with our tears,
 
 64 
 
 The bugle call can never wake thee from thy dreamless 
 
 sleep, 
 
 But angel forms around thy grave shall loving vigil keep. 
 The balmy breeze at evening time shall chant a requiem 
 
 song, 
 
 And woodland thrush in gentle tones the sacred notes pro 
 long. 
 
 These flowers will drift their fragrant snow across thy 
 
 silent breast, 
 While nature's voices whisper low, rest, noble hero, rest. 
 
 WHAT IS POETRY. 
 
 Go ask the rose, whence came its shapely grace 
 And the rich blushes of its smiling face, 
 And why its leaves such holy incense shed 
 When all of beauty, life and hope are dead. 
 And why we cherish through departing years 
 Its memory, with our blessings and our tears. 
 
 Go ask the lily in its stately pride, 
 
 Or when it dips its fingers in the tide ; 
 
 Why it was formed to neither toil nor spin, 
 
 Yet more than kingly glory here to win. 
 
 And when its trusting heart to heaven looks up, 
 
 The bee drinks nectar from its brimming cup.
 
 _6 5 - 
 
 Go ask the violet, humble, pure and true, 
 Who gave to it its eyes of tender blue, 
 And such rare sweetness, that the angels tread 
 With reverent awe beside its lowly bed ; 
 And when 'tis crushed by cruel, careless feet, 
 It only smiles and breaths a sigh more sweet. 
 
 Go ask the birds why they in chorus sing 
 
 The same sweet words with each returning spring, 
 
 And soaring upward from ambrosial bowers 
 
 Look down upon this careworn world of ours ; 
 
 While white-winged beings, near heaven's portal throng 
 
 To listen to the glory of their song. 
 
 Go ask the stars, enrobed in golden light, 
 Who gave to them a voice to rule the night, 
 And myriad banners flashing o'er the sea, 
 Reflecting heaven's eternal imagery; 
 While man looks up with wonder from afar 
 To view the splendor of each royal star. 
 
 Go ask the worn with waiting, weary heart, 
 
 That in life's trials bears a bitter part, 
 
 Whence comes the rainbow light across the skies 
 
 Revealing roseate tints of Paradise. 
 
 And the sweet voice, the gentle " peace be still," 
 
 That calms its fears and makes its pulses thrill. 
 
 Go ask of these, thus shall the answer be, 
 " There blooms a flower immortal Poetry. 
 
 5
 
 66 
 
 God gave it man, to make his pathway bright, 
 And hide the thorns and thistles from his sight. 
 With awe we worship, at the rose-wreathed shrine, 
 And bow before an influence Divine!" 
 
 THE OLD HEARTHSTONE. 
 
 f Music published by Shaw & Co.] 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I'm dreaming of the old hearthstone; 
 
 The home so far away, 
 And pleasant scenes that long have flown 
 
 Come back to me to-day. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The old hearthstone, the old hearthstone- 
 While sailing o'er life's restless sea 
 
 Shall memories of the old hearthstone 
 Bring joy and hope to me. 
 
 I see the maples by the mill 
 
 The orchard and the lane ; 
 The cherry trees upon the hill 
 
 Seem all to be the same. 
 
 Beside the hearth my mother sits, 
 
 Her face so calm and fair ; 
 Her hands the self-same stocking knits 
 
 As when I last was there.
 
 -6 7 - 
 
 The rockers of her old arm-chair 
 Are making music sweet ; 
 
 The kitten with its glossy hau 
 ls nestling at her feet. 
 
 And yet I know that twenty years 
 Have with their blessings fled, 
 
 And on a marble stone appears 
 The name of ' mother ' dead ! 
 
 Dear mother sleeps, no throb of pain 
 Her loving heart can stir 
 
 Our loss was her eternal gain, 
 We need not weep for her. 
 
 But while these sacred memories rise 
 With dreams of home, sweet home, 
 
 Tears come unbidden to my eyes, 
 While o'er the world I roam. 
 
 A SONG OF SADNESS. 
 
 They are blooming in their beauty- 
 The early flowers of spring, 
 
 And above my cottage window, 
 I hear the wild birds sing ;
 
 68 
 
 But the flowers will fade and leave MS 
 Though the smiles of sunlight fall, 
 
 And the tender dew of heaven 
 Sheds it's sweetness over all. 
 
 'Twas thus, the joys of spring-time 
 
 That blossomed in a day, 
 'Neath the chilling winds of autumn 
 
 Were buried, all away ; 
 And the hopes I love to cherish . 
 
 Are hidden in my pain, 
 For I sigh to think life's summer-time 
 
 Can never come again. t 
 
 Cease, my soul, thy wail of sadness 
 
 There is work for thee to do ; 
 Though the cruel storms of winter 
 
 Hide life's roses from thy view, 
 It is only the faint-hearted 
 
 Who yield to blank despair, 
 While the true and noble gather 
 
 Gems of beauty everywhere.
 
 -69- 
 
 TELL ME ROSES. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Oh, tell me, shining lilies, 
 
 Let me press your hand of snow, 
 Does my lover love me truly ? 
 
 For surely you must know. 
 In the early gray of morning 
 
 When your lips were wet with dew 
 Did not an unseen angel come 
 
 And whisper it to you ? 
 
 Oh, tell me blushing roses 
 
 With your voice of fragrance sweet, 
 Tell me will my absent lover 
 
 Come and worship at my feet ? 
 I have been so broken-hearted 
 
 Since we pledged our fond good-bye, 
 And if he has ceased to love me 
 
 Tell me roses, tell me why. 
 
 Oh, brilliant stars of heaven 
 
 That gem the brow of night, 
 Go brighten up his pathway 
 
 While absent from my sight. 
 Oh, fairy winds float softly 
 
 While you cross the distant sea, 
 And pray tell my absent lover 
 
 To hasten back to me.
 
 _ 7 o 
 
 SUMMER WEATHER. 
 
 Across the fields of ripening grain 
 
 The smiles of summer light are glancing, 
 And on the river's silver breast 
 
 The shadows of the trees are dancing, 
 As on the chanting waters flow, 
 
 The lilies dream and sigh and quiver 
 And dip their snowy finger-tips 
 
 Into the sweetly singing river. 
 
 The humming birds, in rainbow sheen, 
 
 Drink nectar from the fragrant clover, 
 And from the vale the meadow-lark 
 
 Is calling for her truant lover. 
 The summer skies and river's song 
 
 And music of the woodland thrushes, 
 Bring back the hour when first I kissed 
 
 From my love's cheek the tell-tale blushes. 
 
 Heaven bless the time our vows were given 
 
 To walk the path of life together, 
 Through autumn shades and wintry storms 
 
 And dreamy bliss of summer weather. 
 The stars bore witness to our pledge, 
 
 And bowed their crowns of golden glory, 
 As though 'twere something new to hear 
 
 From lover's lips the old, old story.
 
 7i 
 
 Full twenty years have come and gone, 
 
 And brought us tears as well as pleasure, 
 What matters it I still possess 
 
 My purest, dearest, only treasure. 
 Sing thrushes ! let your songs and mine, 
 
 Blended in unison together, 
 Rehearse the sweetness of to-day 
 
 The splendor of this summer weather. 
 
 SOMETIME. 
 
 Sometimes my heart and brain grow very weary 
 
 Longing for quiet rest ; 
 Life seems to be a desert dark and dreary 
 
 With fragant flowers unblest. 
 
 Sadly I sigh for fields of scented clover 
 
 Where wild bees love to roam; 
 In vain I search the beds of violets over 
 
 To find one leaf of bloom. 
 
 If I could hear one strain of music thrilling, 
 
 My glad enraptured soul 
 Would bow at life's behests, supremely willing, 
 
 Till love should make me whole.
 
 - 7 2 
 
 E'en o'er my muse a cloud of gloom is drifted 
 
 Coldly enshrouding all ; 
 I wonder if the cloud will e'er be rifted 
 
 At memory's loving call. 
 
 Ah, heart ! so ever ready at repining, 
 
 God doeth all things best ; 
 Sometimes He hides the gorgeous silver lining 
 
 To give His children rest. - 
 
 Else our poor eyes o'erdazzled by the splendor 
 
 Would soon grow weak and dim ; 
 He wills it thus, no earthly arm can hinder 
 
 Then learn to trust in Him. 
 
 Sometime, beyond the golden gates of glory 
 
 My soul shall learn to know 
 Why life was thronged with deserts wierd and hoary 
 
 And always clouded so. 
 
 SEA-ANEMONES. 
 
 Anemones ! sea-anemones, 
 
 Purple, white and red, 
 Dreaming loves enchanted dream 
 
 In your golden bed ;
 
 73 
 
 Memory bears me back again 
 'To your fragrance sweet, 
 
 Where the cool waves of the sea, 
 Danced beside my feet. 
 
 Anemones ! sea-anemones, 
 
 Tell me can it be 
 We shall ever meet again 
 
 Close beside the sea ? 
 Where the breakers proudly rise, 
 
 Towering mountain high, 
 While the silver-crested foam 
 
 Drapes the azure sky. 
 
 Blessed hours, when love and I 
 
 Wandered hand in hand, 
 And the ocean seemed to be 
 
 Love's immortal land ; 
 Listening to the trembling sea's 
 
 Sacred monotone, 
 This my lover said to me 
 
 " Will you be my own ?" 
 
 While the answer of my soul 
 
 Blushing lips concealed, 
 Quick the throbbing of my heart 
 
 Loving words revealed. 
 Voice of love is still the same, 
 
 Though it silent be ; 
 Thus my raptured heart confessed- 
 
 'Twas no longer free.
 
 74 
 
 Anemones ! sea-anemones, 
 
 Purple, white and red, 
 Dream for other lovers now 
 
 In your golden bed. 
 While you close your tearful eyes 
 
 Dreaming life away 
 Other lovers by the sea, 
 
 Roam love's land to-day. 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE ROSES. 
 
 Oh ! this precious gift of roses 
 
 They shall droop and fade away, 
 For each heart of gold discloses 
 
 Trembling signs of sure decay. 
 But in death they breathe a sweetness 
 
 Through this throbbing life of mine, 
 And 'mid suffering's full completeness, 
 
 I shall know their power sublime. 
 
 Oh ! this precious gift -of flowers 
 
 Speaks a world of joy to me 
 Tells me of the golden hours 
 
 And the days that used to be ; 
 Days when yet my footsteps lingered 
 
 In the Eden of the blest 
 When each passing zephyr whispered 
 
 Only love and hope and rest.
 
 -75- 
 
 Oh ! this precious gift of flowers 
 
 . Fill my soul with sweet surprise, 
 And in fancy, Heaven's fair bowers 
 
 Bloom, before my wondering eyes ; 
 While with reverent gaze and holy 
 
 As I look toward the sky, 
 Clouds above me, drifting slowly, 
 
 Seem like angels passing by. 
 
 Oh ! this precious gift of flowers 
 
 Speaks of glorious victories won ; 
 Whispers of the restful hours 
 
 When the battle's toil was done. 
 Speak, oh flowers, with voice of sweetness, 
 
 Words that oft the weary thrill 
 Fraught with God's supreme completeness, 
 
 " Peace, oh troubled heart be still." 
 
 THE RIVER'S ANSWER. 
 
 White-winged and beautiful, swift flowing river, 
 Chanting thy sweet songs forever and ever ; 
 Pause in thy music, and tell me I pray 
 Whither on white wings so swiftly away.
 
 Ever thou bringest me dreams of my childhood, 
 When from thy shore near the deep-tangled wildwood, 
 River and sky softly blended together 
 In the calm twilight of sweet summer weather. 
 
 Sometimes in day dreams I am flying like thee, 
 
 On thy bright dancing course to the deep-sounding sea ; 
 
 Sometimes my tired soul rises up in its flight 
 
 And enters the mystical portals of light. 
 
 Sometimes, ah, sometimes I seem free from life's clod. 
 And thus in my transport hold commune with God. 
 Thus blest, through the realms of blue ether I fly, 
 Too happy to live, but unwilling to die. 
 
 Oh, beautiful river, tell me, I implore, 
 Hast thou ever yet found a flower-bedecked shore, 
 Where hope was immortal and joy was supreme, 
 Where no shade of sadness could darken thy dream ? 
 
 The river reflecting the blue of the sky, 
 In a voice of strange melody makes this reply. 
 "There is but one land where the worn and opprest, 
 The weak and the weary have ever found rest ; 
 This land to the poor of earth's children is given 
 'Tis the city of God the unchangeable heaven."
 
 77 
 
 I ENVY NOT. 
 
 I envy not kings the sceptre bright, 
 Nor crowns encircled with jeweled light, 
 Xor kingdoms of countless wealth untold, 
 With hoarded treasures of molten gold. 
 
 I am free I am free ! 
 The wealth that is born of the soul for me. 
 
 I envy not those imperial heads 
 
 Where beauty its mystical influence sheds ; 
 
 Nor voices that murmur sweet words ; as the dove 
 
 When its heart has been bound in the meshes of love. 
 
 I am free I am free ! 
 The beauty that comes from the soul for me. 
 
 I envy not the rich nor the great, 
 
 Who boast of a high and a proud estate ; 
 
 Nor the cottager his vine-clad cot, 
 
 With the greatness and joy of his humble lot. 
 
 I am free I am free ! 
 The joys of my own sweet home for me. 
 
 If envy at all, I only should, 
 The noble heart, that is truly good ; 
 Who pities the weakness of human lives 
 And seeks not itself to aggrandize. 
 
 I am free I am free ! 
 The wealth that is born of the soul for me.
 
 - 7 8- 
 
 INAUGURATION ODE. 
 MARCH 4, 1881. 
 
 Ring the bells throughout the Nation, 
 Let the people's grand ovation 
 
 On the tide of music roll; 
 While our bugles are resounding, 
 And all loyal hearts are bounding, 
 Let the fire-tongue flash the message 
 
 Through the earth from pole to pole. 
 
 Greet our chieftain with a blessing, 
 While the winds of Heaven caressing 
 
 Sing their songs of welcome low ; 
 Gra-nd triumphal arches bending, 
 And with sweetest incense blending, 
 Scatter beauty o'er his pathway, 
 
 Like to drifts of perfumed snow. 
 
 Hail ! the stars and stripes of glory 
 Wake anew to tell the story 
 
 Of the vict'ries we have won ; 
 How amid the thundering rattle, 
 And the shot and shell of battle, 
 Proudly stood our brave defenders 
 
 Till their noble work was done.
 
 -79- 
 
 Heaven be praised, the time is ended 
 
 When the clarion's giant breath 
 Sounded loud, to call our comrades 
 
 To the rank and file of death. 
 Crown the dead and bless the living 
 
 All who struggled to be free ; 
 Bless the men who marched with Sherman 
 
 From Atlanta to the sea. 
 
 Brothers, let us stand united, 
 
 Firm and true in heart and hand ; 
 North and South, in solid column, 
 
 Pledged, a strong fraternal band. 
 Nations bow their heads to listen 
 
 To the pledge we make to-day, 
 While we fold the blue around us, 
 
 And forget the fading gray. 
 
 Lo ! the lamps of peace are burning, 
 And the olive branch returning, 
 Welcomes all the States together 
 
 To this festival of love. 
 Greeting, trusting, we assemble 
 While the list'ning nations tremble ; 
 For they know Columbia registers 
 
 Our pledge of faith above. 
 
 On to glory, pass the watchword 
 
 Through the lines from shore to shore ; 
 
 Not a soul must dare to falter 
 On to glory evermore !
 
 8o 
 
 While our signal lights are flashing, 
 Ocean breakers, wildly dashing, 
 Cannot, dare, not reach Columbia, 
 On her pedestal secure. 
 
 Ring the bells throughout the Nation ; 
 Let the people's grand ovation 
 
 On the tide of music roll ; 
 Echo hill and dale and valley ; 
 Freemen rally, rally, rally ! 
 While Columbia shouts the watchword 
 
 Through the earth, from pole to pole. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL VIOLETS. 
 
 Beautiful violets why do you sleep, 
 
 Wrapped in your mantle of snow ? 
 Do you fear the rude touch of the cruel storm-king, 
 
 Or the cold winds that fitfully blow ? 
 
 Are you waiting to hear the robin's sweet voice, 
 From the old orchard tree on the hill ; 
 
 While woodland and valley, mountain and glen 
 Re-echo the fanciful trill ? 
 
 Do you dream of the hours we spent by the lake, 
 With our old friends the musical birds ; 
 
 When from the meadows with daisies o'er spiead, 
 Came the lowing of numberless herds?
 
 Si- 
 Night after night, the dream angels bring 
 
 Sounds of your silvery feet ; 
 Your fairy-like lips with warm kisses glow, 
 
 Then hope's full fruition's complete. 
 
 Beautiful violets' soon from your sleep, 
 
 Blushing with tender surprise 
 You'll awake, to behold nature radiant and gay, 
 
 With a glance from your wonderful eyes. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Watching, watching, thoughtfully watching 
 Children enjoying their midsummer play ; 
 
 Dreaming of childhood's ineffable hours 
 That on light wings passed quickly away. 
 
 Toiling, toiling, incessantly toiling 
 
 Wearing the gathering hours away ; 
 But when from our grasp they drift away slowly, 
 
 We gladly would welcome their stay. 
 
 Hoping, hoping, earnestly hoping 
 
 For flowers that shall bloom at the foot of the hill ; 
 When we reach the low valley where sunlight is fading. 
 
 And have suffered the good Master's will. 
 6
 
 82 
 
 HEAVEN BLESS THE LITTLE BOYS. 
 
 When out upon the crowded street 
 
 The mischief-loving boys I meet ; 
 Rolling their hoops and tossing ball, 
 
 Ever engaged with busy feet, 
 I breathe a prayer Heaven bless them all. 
 
 The pride and glory of the town 
 
 Are the bare-foot boys with cheeks of brown ; 
 Who rush along with clamorous noise, 
 
 And hearts as light as eider-down. 
 Heaven bless them all ; those precious boys. 
 
 In each young brow and tender face 
 And smiling eyes and voice I trace, 
 
 The future of our country joys, 
 And grand ennobling of our race. 
 
 Heaven guard and keep the little boys. 
 
 If we would train with honor great, 
 Men to adorn both church and state, 
 
 And every power of vice destroy, 
 Our prayers must be, early and late, 
 
 Heaven's angels guard each little boy.
 
 -8 3 - 
 FAREWELL TO THE OHIO EDITORS. 
 
 [In the winter of 1881 a brilliant reception was given to the Ohio 
 Editors visiting Washington, D. C.] 
 
 Farewell, sons of Ohio, proud knights of the pen, 
 As you go to your sanctums to labor again, 
 From this home of the Union, where Liberty stands 
 With her arms wide extended and warm loving hands 
 Reaching out to receive you, and crown you anew 
 With the laurels reserved for the noble and true. 
 Go forth, noble toilers, in grandeur of might, 
 Your laurels emblazoned with truth and the right. 
 
 Great men of our nation surrounded your shrine 
 
 And poured on your altars the tribute divine 
 
 Of their grand inspiration, like garlands of flowers 
 
 Kissed by heaven's pure sunlight in sweet morning hours. 
 
 'T is thus you go forth, borne on intellect's tide, 
 
 With the fires fresh kindled of honor and pride. 
 
 Firm and true to your calling your hosts shall be led 
 
 With the banner of freedom above you outspread. 
 
 Farewell, sons of Ohio, 'tis yours to defend 
 The proud rights of the people ; and thus, to this end, 
 You must labor for statesmen and soldiers, and all 
 Who'll be true to their trust when our nation shall call. 
 With your hands on the pulse of Columbia, to tell 
 When her heart's blood is throbbing with victory's swell, 
 May you bury the sword 'neath our banner unfurl'd. 
 For the Press is the beacon that lights up the world.
 
 -8 4 - 
 IN SILENCE NOW. 
 
 [Mr. L. W. Kennedy, editor of " The Truth," died at his home in 
 Washington, D. C., Feb. 25, 1881. On the coffin was placed a pen 
 made of English violets, and the chief mourner was his intended 
 bride.] 
 
 Fold the cold hands of the sleeper ; 
 
 Walk with silent step and slow ; 
 Breathe a parting benediction 
 
 Holy, reverent, sweet and low. 
 Press love's purest, fondest kisses 
 
 On the tear-wet, marble brow : 
 'Tis a fitting time for worship, 
 
 Bow the knee and worship now. 
 
 Hushed the voice ; the bright expression 
 
 Faded from the love-lit eyes 
 But the soul in holier radiance 
 
 Smiles from Heaven's immortal skies. 
 Heard you not the benediction, 
 
 Heard you not the harps of gold, 
 When the angel song of welcome 
 
 Through the heavenly portals rolled? 
 
 When we heard the white wings rustle 
 And the sigh of parting breath, 
 
 Then we wept in sobbing anguish, 
 For we said the sleep was death.
 
 -8 5 - 
 
 What is death? 'Tis like a lily- 
 Spotless, fragrant, white and pure. 
 
 Need death seem so cold and chilly 
 Since it makes our faith secure. 
 
 Let him rest, the noble toiler 
 
 Earnest champion of " The Truth," 
 While the pen of fragrant violets 
 
 Writes the words, " immortal youth." 
 In the land of deathless flowers, 
 
 Emblems of a woman's love, 
 These fond hearts shall be united 
 
 Evermore in Heaven above. 
 
 CENTENNIAL ODE. 
 JULY, 1876. 
 
 Unfurl your banners, let the joy-bells ring ; 
 All hail the light that heralded the dawn, 
 The glorious dawning of our greatness ; 
 Ring, ring the bells and let the echo run 
 To every kindred land beneath the sun ; 
 Let all unite, to celebrate the day 
 When smiling Heaven in kindly mood bestowed 
 Our own beloved, immortal Washington ! 
 
 Unfurl the stripes, float out the golden stars, 
 Emblem of more than life, our liberty,
 
 86 
 
 The priceless boon for which our fathers bled, 
 And bravely died, on to the conflict led, 
 By him who, patriot, statesman, soldier all combined 
 Now lives, within a nation's heart, enshrined. 
 
 We speak his name, and every pulse is thrilled 
 From very love, our eyes with tears are filled ; 
 Born to be honored seeking not renown, 
 His noble brow disdained to wear a crown. 
 He needed none, his own great deeds shall be 
 A living crown through all eternity ! 
 And nations yet unborn, shall honor claim, 
 To bow their heads, and proudly speak his name. 
 
 Our Washington ! well may our pulses thrill, 
 Well may bright eyes, with loving tears o'erfill 
 For him, who lit Columbia's torch of fame, 
 And dying bequeathed her sons his honored name. 
 
 *|C 3f 5JC 2JC JjC 5|C 
 
 But hark ! commotion sounds throughout the land, 
 Dismay and terror reign on every hand ; 
 Fort Sumpter falls, 'mid showers of shot and shell 
 Blood marks the spot where Sumpter's heroes fell. 
 Brother meets brother in the unholy strife; 
 Each madly strives to take the other's life ; 
 Columbia mourns, her proud escutcheon stained 
 Drooping the wreath her fallen heroes gained. 
 
 But joy ! above the din of war, is heard 
 
 The welcome news, each loyal heart is stirred,
 
 -8 7 - 
 
 The angel Peace, outspreads her golden wings ; 
 The dove, the olive branch of covenant brings. 
 Rejoice, for North and South are bound as one; 
 " With charity for all, and malice toward none !" 
 Brothers again ! hushed is the knell of doom, 
 Where tumult raged, love's fairest flowers bloom. 
 
 Ring, ring the bells, and let the echo run 
 To every kindred land beneath the sun ; 
 All honor to our own immortal dead, 
 Who, through the darkness, on to victory led. 
 And while sweet violets bloom above their graves, 
 And while the stars and stripes above them waves, 
 A nation's blessing shall their requiem be, 
 Who purchased with their blood, our liberty ! 
 
 Ring, ring the tidings, Independence Bell ! 
 To all the nations the glad story tell, 
 Liberty ! Peace ! and Union ! all combined, 
 Around our altars sacredly entwined. 
 While over all, in stately triumph waves 
 Our glorious flag, to kindly welcome all 
 Who meet as friends in Independence Hall. 
 Glory to God ! for what our fathers wrought ; 
 Glory to God ! for what the years have brought. 
 O, car of Progress, speed in conquest on 
 Throughout the century about to come. 
 Heaven guard, and keep our country's honor pure 
 While earth shall last, and rolling time endure.
 
 MABEL. 
 
 SONG. 
 I am thinking to-night of thee, Mabel, 
 
 Mabel, so peerless and fair, 
 Of the heavenly light in thy violet eyes, 
 
 And the gold of thy rippling hair 
 Of the moonlit path where we used to meet 
 And walk together with stainless feet. 
 
 I am wearing a garland for thee, Mabel, 
 
 Pale violets, and roses white ; 
 As pure as the flowers that forever bloom, 
 
 In the gardens oi golden light; , 
 They whisper to me, of departed years 
 As I moisten their lips with my falling tears. 
 
 Why art thou so cruel and cold, Mabel ? 
 
 Why spurn me away from thy side ? 
 Sweet Mabel, my love, my angelic queen ! 
 
 Tell me this : wilt thou be my bride. 
 Patiently, fondly, I here shall wait 
 Until from thy lips I have learned my fate. 
 
 Heaven guard and keep thee, Mabel, Mabel ! 
 
 When another's home thou shalt bless ; 
 But love, should life's shadows around thee fall, 
 
 Wilt thou think of my soul's distress. 
 And now, that I journey across the sea, 
 Wilt thou breathe at the altar a prayer for me ?
 
 FADED LILIES. 
 
 My lilies, pure white lilies, 
 
 Have all faded from my sight ; 
 Just as many of the loved ones 
 
 I am dreaming of to-night. 
 With their lustrous waxen petals 
 
 And sweetly-perfumed breath, 
 I forgot, that like the roses 
 
 They were subject unto death. 
 
 I asked the clover blossoms, 
 
 To give the answer true ; 
 Where are my shining lilies? 
 
 I have searched the garden through j 
 But the clover blossoms answered 
 
 As they drooped their graceful heads 
 "You will find their faded petals 
 
 Scattered o'er the garden beds." 
 
 Then I turned away in sadness 
 
 And in sorrow breathed a sigh ; 
 Although I know, while flowers may fade, 
 
 Bright things can never die. 
 Another year, when summer comes 
 
 My faith shall not be vain ; 
 My silver-throated lilies then 
 
 Shall bloom for me again.
 
 90- 
 A GIFT OF ROSES. 
 
 The flowers you gave me yester-night 
 Those roses of crimson and fairy white 
 As they pour perfume on the morning breeze 
 They whisper to me of a heart at ease. 
 Oh, beautiful roses 
 Hasten to twine 
 Your tranquil life 
 In this soul of mine. 
 
 The roses in white and crimson sheen, 
 Encircled by leaves of golden green, 
 Have been kissed by the lips of fairies bright 
 As they whispered their love in the soft moonlight. 
 The subtle tints of 
 
 Their leaves disclose 
 The blushes that on 
 
 My love's cheeks repose. 
 
 No flash of the rubies, nor diamonds' glare 
 Can with the sweet blush of these buds compare, 
 Nor delicate pearls from the foaming sea, 
 With the flowers that my darling gave to me. 
 May your life, my love, 
 Be as free from care, 
 As the rose that so near 
 To my heart I wear.
 
 A WELCOME. 
 
 [Read by Crypti Palmoni, at the Convention of the Right Worthy 
 Grand Lodge of Good Templars of the World, Washington, 
 D. C, May 28, 1884.] 
 
 Hark, the bells of joy are ringing 
 
 And our flags are all unfurled, 
 While we gather here to welcome 
 
 All the nations of the world ; 
 With a love that is immortal 
 
 And a hope that is sublime, 
 Proud Columbia's hand is offered 
 
 Unto friends of every clime. 
 
 Friends of every land and ocean 
 
 Where the human voice is heard, 
 Have aroused this great commotion 
 
 And Columbia's pulse is stirred; 
 For around us is the dawning 
 
 Of a new and glorious light 
 ' ' On to glory ! " is our watchword 
 
 And our battle flags are bright. 
 
 Welcome friends, a thousand welcomes, 
 
 To this grand fraternity ! 
 Welcome from the land of flowers, 
 From the pure arcadian bowers, 
 
 Where the southern sunset lingers, 
 And the palm-tree dips its fingers 
 
 In the billows of the sea ;
 
 And the southern cross is lighted, 
 By the lamps which heaven ignited, 
 
 And from where the star of empire 
 Grandly takes its westward way - 
 
 Loving friends, we give you welcome 
 And a greeting hand to-day. 
 
 Ah, your coming gives us plea'sure, 
 More than poet's song can measure, 
 
 For you answered by your presence 
 When you heard the bugle call. 
 
 You have come to give us power 
 
 In this great momentous hour, 
 When the battle wages strongly 
 
 Between purity and sin. 
 Toiling friends we bid you welcome, 
 
 Welcome, welcome, one and all. 
 Love inspired we'll march together, 
 
 'Mid life's storms or summer weather, 
 
 
 'Till our husbands and our lovers, . 
 
 'Till our fathers, sons and brothers 
 From the wine cup shall be free ! . ** 
 
 Though our altar fires burn slowly, 
 Yet our cause is pure and holy, 
 
 And our noble temperance band , 
 Has been strengthened through the suffering 
 
 Of the women of our land. 
 Not a soul shall be discouraged, 
 
 Neither faint beside the way
 
 -93 
 
 For we've seen a greater struggle 
 Than the struggle of to-day. 
 
 We have wept beside our battle-fields, 
 
 We have wept beside our slain ! 
 We wept to see our heroes fall 
 
 We felt their throbbing pain 
 We wept because we loved them 
 
 When we saw them march away ; 
 Noble men whose names emblazon 
 
 Our escutcheon of to-day ! 
 
 Our heroes fell ! ' but then we heard 
 
 United voices rise ; 
 Shout after shout, throughout the land 
 
 Ascended toward the skies ; 
 And sealed in blood the covenant 
 
 Of glory yet to be, 
 
 For the shackles had been broken 
 
 
 
 And four million souls were free. 
 
 And while we pray that Heaven will spare 
 
 Our land from such a strife ; 
 The men who make our nation's laws 
 
 Must give our nation life. , 
 
 Full twenty million human souls 
 
 Are pleading here to-day 
 " Oh ! save us from the tempter's cup 
 
 And open up the way
 
 -94 
 
 That leads to honor, love and truth, 
 
 And blessings yet to be," 
 And hark! our temperance hosts exclaim; 
 
 "Make way for liberty." 
 The trumpet voice comes thundering down 
 
 The corridor of years, 
 Yet gently as an angel's hand 
 
 It wipes away our tears. 
 
 Behold, the arch of promise bright ; 
 
 Our hosts with proud eclat, 
 Are marching onward in the fight, 
 
 Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! 
 On, on to victory, onward on ! 
 
 Our flags are all unfurled, 
 The reveille has just begun, 
 
 Our battle-field's the world. 
 
 We need not fear, our soldiers brave 
 
 Shall never suffer loss ; 
 For lo, the Crescent reaches forth 
 
 To greet the Southern Cross, 
 And thus united we shall be 
 
 Through every day and hour, 
 'Till all our loved ones shall be free 
 
 From Rum's despotic power !
 
 95 
 
 AT LAST 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 She loved him not, though her pledge was given 
 
 To love through all the years ; 
 And cheeks once pink with blushes 
 
 Were stained with cruel tears. 
 Where the sea-foam's eternal splendor 
 
 Lay white, 'neath a moonlit sky, 
 This beautiful maiden was waiting, 
 
 Hoping only to droop and die. 
 Across the billows her lover 
 
 Had gone for a year or more ; 
 And she secretly prayed that his vessel 
 
 Would never return to shore. 
 
 In a low-roofed, vine-bower' d cottage, 
 
 Where the honey-suckle's bloom, 
 Lifted from scarlet censers, 
 
 Rich volumes of sweet perfume, 
 This maiden found a new lover, 
 
 Who kissed with a manly grace 
 Despair from her brow of marble, 
 
 And grief from her tear-stained face ; 
 At last she had found her ideal
 
 - 9 6- 
 
 What more could she want beside ? 
 And with lips that out-blushed the roses 
 She vowed to become his bride. 
 
 'Twas night and the tempest's blackness 
 
 Loomed up in a threatening sky 
 And above the roar of the waves was heard 
 
 TJie ominous sea-gull's cry. 
 The sea, with a wierd unearthly voice, 
 
 Dashed angrily to and fro ; 
 Louder the wail of the breakers 
 
 As louder the storm-winds blow. 
 A fisherman ran to the cottage ; 
 
 His face of an ashen white ; 
 " Help !" in tremulous tones he shouted, 
 
 " The Dolphin is wrecked to-night !" 
 
 "The Dolphin, oh Heaven;" shrieked the maiden 
 
 " Heaven send that no ill betide, 
 The captain commanding the Dolphin, 
 
 I once promised to be his bride. 
 Go, save him, go save him," she faltered, 
 
 " Now the tale of my life is told ; 
 For I must abandon the new love, 
 
 And give myself up to the old," 
 " Give me the life-line; I'll save him ! " 
 
 Spoke her lover my faith shall be true ; 
 " But if I should be lost in the sea to-night, 
 
 Forget not my love for you."
 
 97 
 
 Then he clasped to his heart the maiden 
 
 In a lover's manly embrace, 
 And pressed a sweet kiss of parting 
 
 On her beautiful upturned face ; 
 And seizing the life-line firmly, 
 
 He plunged in the stormy tide, 
 And bravely battled the waters 
 
 Till he reached the wrecked Dolphin' 's side. 
 
 Then he called to the noble captain 
 
 So firm and gallant and true 
 "Give me the command of the Dolphin, 
 
 Your sweetheart is waiting for you. 
 Take the life-line, strong arms are waiting 
 
 To carry the life-line in ;" 
 Then above the roar of the ocean 
 
 There sounded a crash and a din ; 
 But the captain rescued from the billows 
 
 Was safe on the welcome shore ; 
 While the Dolphin, ah, where was the Dolphin? 
 
 'Neath the storm waves to rise no more. 
 
 At length came a time of mourning, 
 And a widow, not young, but fair, 
 
 Sat dreamily watching the sunlight 
 That gleamed in her shining hair ; 
 
 Here and there a pale thread of silver, 
 Was blent with the shimmering gold, 
 
 7
 
 - 9 8- 
 
 But autumn had made her more lovely 
 
 Than summer, a thousand fold. 
 Sweet and low was the voice of her sorrow 
 
 As she whispered, " Ah, woe is me, 
 One sleeps 'neath the grass in the churchyard - 
 
 And one in the treacherous sea." 
 
 Was it the form of an angel 
 
 Appeared at the fair mourner's side ? 
 Was it the voice of the sea she heard, 
 
 As on dashed the incoming tide ? 
 " Cease, darling, O cease thy repining, 
 
 Let me kiss from thy lips those tears ; 
 With a love time has not disenchanted, 
 
 I have waited these twenty years ; 
 That thy love was pure as an angel's, 
 
 I had not a reason to doubt ; 
 When to save from the deep thy first lover, 
 
 I carried the life-line out." 
 
 And now the white sea-foam's splendor 
 Is touched with a pencil of gold, 
 
 And these lovers, so blest in the new love, 
 Will ever remember the old.
 
 99 
 OH, NO, NOT THERE. 
 
 A vision of beauty, with gossamer wings 
 And a golden harp with golden strings, 
 Drew near to my side, as I, worn with care, 
 
 Sat wearily watching the shadows go by, 
 And dreaming of bliss in my home over there ; 
 I asked the vision if on that side the shore 
 True peace might be found, and it said " evermore. 1 
 
 I asked the vision, robed in garments of white, 
 
 Do roses fade in the gardens of light, 
 
 Or cruel storms beat in the lily's pure face, 
 
 Or the lightning's flash, with pencil of fire, 
 On the pale sweet brow of the violet, trace 
 Dark lines of grief, as on this side the shore 
 The sweet voice answered, "oh, no, nevermore ! " 
 
 Then I asked the vision, as it floated along 
 Trilling musical echoes of silvery song, 
 In the shining city, do joys ever fade 
 
 Day change to night, and our smiles to tears, 
 And our fondest hopes in the dust be laid, 
 Or wither the blossoms we fondly wear ; 
 Then the sweet voice answered, " oh, no, not there ! " 
 
 Then I asked the vision whence it came, 
 
 And what was its mission, and what its name 
 
 When lo, for an answer, it only smiled
 
 IOO' 
 
 But it leaned on my breast in a fond caress, 
 And I knew 'twas the form of my angel child, 
 And its mission would be, through the coming years, 
 To soothe my sorrow and dry my tears. 
 
 SILVERY WAVES. 
 
 [Music arranged by Kimball, published by S. Brainard's Sons,], 
 
 Where silvery wavelets flow, 
 
 Wavelets flow, wavelets flow ; 
 
 I'll launch my bark to-night 
 
 Darling come with me. 
 Beautiful tints of the rich opal sky, 
 Dreaming upon their fair bosom they lie. 
 
 You'll hear the mermaid's song, 
 
 Happy song, happy song ; 
 
 I shall be your gondolier 
 
 Safe my boat shall glide. 
 Sorrow no longer with lingering sway, 
 Shall from my life take its bright dreams away. 
 
 When out on the moonlit sea, 
 
 Moonlit sea, moonlit sea ; 
 
 Give me one smile of love, 
 
 Smile of love divine. 
 
 Give me the answer my soul longs to hear, 
 Though you may seal it, my love, with a tear.
 
 101 
 
 AT THE GATE I WAIT FOR THEE. 
 
 BELLE MAHONE'S REPLY. 
 
 Musicby Mark Havens, published by S. Brainard's Sons.] 
 
 At the gate I wait for thee, 
 Come my loved one, come to me, 
 Come and wander where the flowers 
 Fade not in love's rosy bowers, 
 Where the voice of love is true 
 As the sky of blue. 
 
 CHORUS: Thy Belle Mahone, 
 Thy Belle Mahone, 
 Thine forever, thine forever, 
 Thy Belle Mahone. 
 
 Garlands I will weave for thee, 
 Blossoms from life's golden tree; 
 Buds of pure and spotless white 
 Kissed by Heavenly light. 
 Weep not darling, I shall wait 
 For thee at the shining gate, 
 Loved one weary and alone, 
 Still thy Belle Mahone. 
 
 Heaven without thee would be dark, 
 Speed thy fairy-phantom bark ;
 
 102 
 
 When thy boat shall touch the strand 
 I shall clasp thy hand 
 And fondly fold thee to my heart, 
 No, nevermore again to part, 
 God will bring thee safely home 
 To thy Belle Mahone. 
 
 UNDER THE ROOF-TREE. 
 
 [Music by Sudds, published by W. F. Shaw.] 
 
 Under the roof- tree we gather to-day, 
 Brothers and sisters from homes far away ; 
 Children are with us, and father is here, 
 In the old home, in the old home so dear. 
 Changed is the homestead, but memory is bright, 
 Bringing back scenes so long faded from sight ; 
 Scenes when we gathered hope's blossoming flowers, 
 Fresh from the garden of life's morning hours. 
 
 Though we are happy, yet still we must weep 
 For the beloved ones who silently sleep 
 Sleep where the marble is chilling and gray 
 Oh, precious loved ones, we miss you to-day ! 
 Father stands waiting so near to the shore, 
 Mother will lovingly welcome him o'er; 
 Thus comes the question that brings our hearts pain, 
 Shall we all meet in the old home again ?
 
 -io 3 
 
 OUR THANKSGIVING. 
 
 NOVEMBER, 1886. 
 
 Come, friends and good neighbors, sit down with us here, 
 While we talk of the blessings that crowned the dead year 
 The year that, like others, fled swiftly away, 
 But bequeathed as a legacy Thanksgiving Day. 
 
 Sit close by the fireside before we begin ; 
 Let the rainstorm without reflect comfort within ; 
 And, dear friends, please remember, whatever befall, 
 There is sunshine enough in the world for us all. 
 
 To avoid being tiresome the best thing to do 
 
 Is to outline the picture that conies in review 
 
 In each mind, and be sure that you carefully trace 
 
 With the shadows each line of white light in its place. 
 
 But do not spare the brush where the shadow must come ; 
 You will like the work better when thus fairly done 
 For so often we find with a tearful surprise, 
 That the clouds which seemed darkest were nearest the skies. 
 
 Now, dear friends, are we thankful in sickness or health 
 Quaffing poverty's cup, or the vintage of wealth, 
 Or sometimes amid plenty, if we should complain, 
 Do we know that thus living our lives are in vain ? 
 
 For another Thanksgiving, we'll set out anew 
 And be careful to keep, as an object in view
 
 A record, with day-book and ledger at hand, 
 
 That the future may tell how the balance sheets stand. 
 
 If your brother is fainting go help him to rise, 
 
 Set his feet in the pathway that leads to the skies ; 
 
 Call the good angels 'round you with voice and with pen; 
 
 For the angels of God are the angels of men. 
 
 Do your duty whatever your duty may be, 
 
 And be thankful for life, 'neath the flag of the free ! 
 
 FROM THE RILL TO THE OCEAN. 
 
 [The author introduces this poem, it being among the first written by 
 her son, Jay VVirt Kail.] 
 
 Oh, thou tiny, rippling rill 
 Coursing down yon distant hill, 
 Splashing up in silvery spray, 
 Onward ! onward ! every day. 
 Silently you form a brook, 
 Receiving streams from every nook, 
 Glittering in the golden light, 
 You have peace, yet long for might. 
 
 Not contented with your sway 
 Still more turbulent each day, 
 Thou dost foam and roll and surge 
 Like some mournful, tuneless dirge.
 
 -105- 
 
 As a maddened steed you quiver, 
 Dashing onward to the river, 
 Where you're swallowed out of sight 
 Losing freedom, gaining might. 
 
 Now, you'll surely be content 
 
 And have all your fury spent ; 
 
 But you've gained the river's motion 
 
 Onward ! onward ! to the ocean. 
 
 Ever dark and restless river 
 
 Thou dost plunge and dash and quiver, 
 
 Wearing rocks to grains of sand, 
 
 That thyself thou mayst expand. 
 
 Onward ! onward ! oh, dark river, 
 Like an arrow from a quiver, 
 Like the north wind : shrieking, sighing- 
 From the mountains thou art flying. 
 Like a proud steed madly prancing 
 To the end you're wildly dancing; 
 Pausing not till in the breast 
 Of the ocean you find rest. 
 
 Onward! onward! plunging, rearing j 
 Swiftly now your home is nearing. 
 Hark ! you hear a great commotion 
 'Tis the moaning, storm-tossed ocean. 
 Vainly now would you return 
 Since the ocean you discern. 
 Onward ! onward ! naught can save 
 The river buried 'neath the wave.
 
 io6 
 
 Thus the peaceful rill grew sad, 
 And the shining brook grew mad, 
 For the river's ceaseless motion 
 Longed and pined to reach the ocean. 
 But at last they've reached the sea 
 They who once were light and free 
 Now are slaves to power and fame : 
 Nothing left them save a name. 
 
 LINES IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 Young friend this world to you must be 
 
 All garlanded with roses, 
 While shining pearls so fair to see 
 
 Each passing day discloses ; 
 For you, the thrushes sing their song 
 
 With strange artistic power, 
 And blessings which to few belong 
 
 Crown every day and hour. 
 
 But, ah, should clouds across your sky 
 
 Obscure the gathered sweetness 
 The rainbow arch of heaven is nigh 
 
 With all its grand completeness ; 
 And tears so like the summer rain 
 
 That soothes the weeping flowers 
 Are given to calm our souls from pain, 
 
 And bless this world of ours.
 
 VIOLETS. 
 
 To A FRIEND. 
 
 I walked out in the open fields to-day 
 To while from care a lonely hour away, 
 And read a page from nature's open book, 
 And gather violets blooming by the brook. 
 The violets started up with mute surprise 
 While tears of sweetness gathered in their eyes. 
 
 I asked the precious violets why those tears, 
 Does life to you bring recompense of fears? 
 It seems to me life should be ever sweet 
 To flowers endowed with beauty so complete. 
 The brook beside you sings a happy song 
 As o'er its lowly bed it floats along. 
 
 The violets pointed up toward the skies 
 A deeper blue reflected in their eyes 
 The sun had kissed the tears of night away 
 And opened up to them a perfect day. 
 The brooklet whispered low a sweet refrain, 
 Then danced across the meadow-land again. 
 
 Thus, while we walk in life's sequestered way 
 We meet with human violets every day ; 
 Their fond hearts aching with a withering blight, 
 Their eyes o'erflowing with the tears of night.
 
 loS 
 
 But when through faith they look toward the skies, 
 The tears of sorrow vanish from their eyes. 
 
 To you, dear friend, life is a summer day ; 
 When trials come love kisses them away ; 
 You have not suffered sorrow's wild unrest ; 
 God wills it so, and what He does is best. 
 
 CLARIBEL LEE. 
 
 [Music by Mark Havens, published by S. Brainard's Sons.] 
 
 Breathe softly ye night winds and whisper, 
 
 As ye float o'er the dim distant sea; 
 Go bear on your light wings a message 
 For my darling, sweet Claribel Lee, 
 Go tell her my heart is so lonely 
 The world seems a dark grave to me, 
 And though sweet be the music, it charms not, 
 In the absence of Claribel Lee. 
 
 There's no charm for the heart that is breaking, 
 
 Nor beauty in flower or tree ; 
 The robin in vain sings to soothe me 
 
 While I mourn for my Claribel Lee. 
 My bark is approaching the river, 
 
 When my heart, prisoned now, shall be free ; 
 Then I'll soar on the wings of the morning 
 
 To the home of my Claribel Lee.
 
 109 
 
 They told me, my darling was dying, 
 
 And they folded her hands on her breast, 
 Then I knew, tho' they said she was sleeping, 
 
 That my Claribel Lee was at rest. 
 A smile o'er her brow floated sweetly, 
 
 Holy smile ! it was only for me; 
 And through life shall the memory linger 
 
 Of the smile of my Claribel Lee. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I know that my angel is waiting, 
 That above she is waiting for me ; 
 
 Where the roses immortal are blooming 
 At the feet of my Claribel Lee. 
 
 THE PAUPER. 
 
 I stand upon the grand seashore, 
 
 And view the rocks and drifts of sand ; 
 The deep waves plashing o'er and o'er, 
 
 Seem like a voice from spirit-land ; 
 And sea-weeds bow their drooping heads, 
 
 And dip their fingers in the sea, 
 While reaching down its golden threads, 
 
 The sunlight weaves a crown for me. 
 
 A magic harp of thousand strings 
 Is waked to life by angel hands ;
 
 no 
 
 A choir seraphic, sweetly sings 
 The music of immortal lands ; 
 
 Beneath the azure-tinted sky, 
 Old ocean moans a low refrain, 
 
 While white-winged beings from on high 
 Re-echo back the song again. 
 
 Why comes to me a dream like this 
 
 To me, a pauper, old and poor? 
 While life, to some, brings perfect bliss, 
 
 I beg my bread from door to door ; 
 Scorned and upbraided, cast aside 
 
 No friend to wipe my tears away ; 
 None fear to wound my helpless pride, 
 
 A wanderer by night and day. 
 
 Oft in the blessed Book I read 
 
 That mercy, hope and love are free j 
 And yet I fear, while here I plead, 
 
 There is no hope for such as me ; 
 Doomed ! I am doomed to suffer pain ; 
 
 Father of all, thine arm make bare, 
 While here I bow and call Thy name, 
 
 Remove this withering cup of care. 
 
 If I could sleep beneath the sea, 
 
 The sea-weed blooming o'er my breast,. 
 
 Where no false dreams could come to me, 
 To mar the sweetness of my rest.
 
 E'en such a fate were better far 
 
 Than life with all its blessings flown, 
 
 For then, perchance, some radiant star 
 Would watch beside the dead unknown. 
 
 OH, SING FOR ME A SONG TO-NIGHT. 
 
 SONG. 
 Oh, sing for me a song to-night, 
 
 A happy song of the olden time ; 
 Your hand so pure and fair my love 
 
 Can touch the keys with a power divine 
 My darling, sing a song for me, 
 A plaintive, touching melody. 
 
 Oh, sing for me a song to-night 
 With brightness in the mystic flow ; 
 
 With memories sweet of summer days 
 That breathed their fragrance long ago. 
 
 Then smile not though I shed a tear 
 
 O'er scenes that seem to me so near. 
 
 Oh, sing for me a song to-night, 
 One precious song, my lady fair, 
 
 Of years when life and hopes were gay, 
 As flowers that nestle in your hair ; 
 
 Untasted then, life's wintry stream, 
 
 The hours were all a passing dream.
 
 BY AND BY THE ROSES WITHER. 
 
 Music by R. Goerdeler, published by S. Brainard's Sons.] 
 
 By and by the roses wither, 
 
 By and by the leaves with fall, 
 By and by the crimson autumn 
 
 Sheds its lustre over all ; 
 By and by our hopes will brighten, 
 
 Though the swallows homeward fly, 
 And false friends who seem to love us 
 
 May forget us by and by. 
 
 By and by the rose that withers 
 
 Shall uplift its drooping head, 
 Awakened from its slumbers 
 
 By an angel's gentle tread ; 
 By and by fond hearts be broken 
 
 That have never known a sigh ; 
 Friendless ones with joy will lighten 
 
 In the coming by and by. 
 
 By and by there will be false hearts, 
 
 By and by there will be true ; 
 Do I hear you say you doubt it, 
 
 If you do, then, why do you? 
 By and by bright eyes will moisten 
 
 When beneath the turf we lie 
 There will still be those who love us, 
 
 In the silent by and by.
 
 AT CLOSE OF DAY. 
 
 Above the towering snow-crowned hills, 
 
 I lift my enraptured eyes ; 
 For angel hands are painting there 
 
 Heaven's drapery on the skies. 
 
 The sun has waved a proud farewell, 
 And bowed his golden crown ; 
 
 It seems to me that angel arms 
 From heaven are reaching down. 
 
 The river silently and slow 
 
 Is drifting to the sea ; 
 A holy calm, like spirit rest, 
 
 Is brooding over me. 
 
 How strangely sweet the silence falls 
 O'er field and wooded hill ; 
 
 No spoken words of gifted tongue, 
 Could thus my being fill. 
 
 Bright thoughts and beautiful appear, 
 
 My soul is all aglow ; 
 I heed not wail of winter winds, 
 
 Nor touch of winter's snow. 
 
 Thus, when the day of life is done 
 And death's pale mystery here, 
 The soul that trusts the Master's love 
 
 Shall neither faint nor fear. 
 8
 
 IT4 ' 
 
 No poet's words can paint the scene 
 That waits our enraptured eyes 
 
 When angel hands shall open wide 
 The gates of Paradise ! 
 
 I WAS WAITING FOR A LETTER. 
 
 SONG. 
 I was waiting for a letter ; 
 
 And the postman seemed so slow, 
 When I'd hear his coming footsteps 
 
 To some other house h'd go. 
 When I saw the postman passing 
 
 Then the tears would fill my eyes 
 For that I should thus be waiting, 
 
 Gave my heart a sad surprise. 
 
 CHORUS. Repeat four last lines. 
 
 While I waited for my letter, 
 
 Ah, the days became so long, 
 For my soul had lost its brightness, 
 
 And my lips forgot their song ; 
 Even the flowers could breathe no fragrance 
 
 Or no kiss of joy for me, 
 While I waited for a letter 
 
 From my lover o'er the sea. CHORUS.
 
 I had waited for my letter 
 
 Till I thought my hopes were vain ; 
 But to-day I saw a loving face 
 
 That soothed my heart of pain ; 
 And a voice 'twas not the postman's 
 
 Said, "we've just returned from sea, 
 And, thank Heaven, I find my darling 
 
 Is still waiting here for me." 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O ! to-day I got my letter, 
 And my soul is full of song, 
 
 And I wonder that I ever thought 
 The summer days were long. 
 
 I'M DREAMING I'M AN INFANT. 
 
 [Music by Karl Merz. Published by S. Brainard's Sons.] 
 
 I'm dreaming I'm an infant 
 
 Lulled upon my mother's breast 
 Mother's bending sweetly o'er me 
 
 And soothing me to rest. 
 In prayer I hear her breathing, 
 
 Father take this child of mine, 
 Fit it for the joys of heaven 
 
 Oh ! make it wholly thine.
 
 u6 
 
 I am dreaming, I am dreaming, 
 
 Of childhood's happy hour, 
 When I watched the laughing sunbeam 
 
 Kiss the dew from off the flower ; 
 I am dreaming of the lilies 
 
 Down at the river side 
 Of the pearls that slept beneath them 
 
 Washed by the surging tide. 
 
 I am dreaming of the churchyard 
 
 Where the waving willow weeps ; 
 Of the mound beneath its branches 
 
 Where my gentle mother sleeps ; 
 The granite in its grandeur 
 
 In my waking dreams I see, 
 And I know though mother's sleeping 
 
 She is watching over me. 
 
 . % 
 I am dreaming of the diamonds 
 
 In life's enamelled chain, 
 Of the pearls I clasped so fondly 
 
 That I ne'er shall clasp again ; 
 Of the jewels in hope's casket, 
 
 That from my grasp have fled ; 
 I'll not pursue them farther 
 
 Earth's brightest hopes are dead. 
 
 I am dreaming now of heaven, 
 Of the crowns that angels wear,
 
 And I see the hopes that perished here 
 
 Forever centered there ; 
 And the pearls I lost are gleaming 
 
 On the bright eternal hill, 
 And mother whispers softly 
 
 Dearest child I love you stil,!. 
 
 MY MOTHER'S FLOWERS. 
 
 SONG. 
 I'm walking in the garden paths 
 
 To breathe the evening air ; 
 I've laid aside my daily toil 
 
 My sorrow and my care. 
 Around me gathered are my friends, 
 
 To guile the lonely hours 
 'Twas mother's hand that planted them, 
 
 Oh, how I love these flowers. 
 
 My mother dear has gone to rest, 
 
 Her smile no more I see ; 
 But when I look upon her flowers, 
 
 Through them she smiles on me, 
 I feel her hand upon my head, 
 
 Her kiss upon my brow 
 Oh ! I am safe from worldly care, 
 
 For mother's with me now.
 
 n8 
 
 Again I lisp my evening prayer 
 
 Before I go to sleep ; 
 " If I should die before I wake 
 
 Pray Lord my soul to keep." 
 Then softly on my trundle-bed 
 
 In angel arms I lay, 
 And the sweet words, "child go to sleep,' 
 
 I hear my mother say. 
 
 Now on the far immortal shore, 
 
 She weaves a garland fair, 
 And tells me if I follow her 
 
 I may that garland wear ; 
 And though like all terrestrial things 
 
 I soon must pass away, 
 My mother's flowers my path shall cheer 
 
 Through every toiling day. 
 
 TELL ME, DARLING, THAT YOU MISS ME. 
 
 SONG. 
 Tell me, darling, that you miss me 
 
 Where the evening shadows fall; 
 Where the splendor of the autumn 
 
 Sheds its sweetness over all. 
 When the purple light is fading 
 
 From the western sky away, 
 And the lamps of heaven are lighted 
 
 At the closing of day.
 
 Tell me, darling, you are waiting 
 
 For the coming of my feet ; 
 That when absent, life is dreary, 
 
 And its dreaming incomplete ; 
 That no lingering voice of summer, 
 
 Nor the autumn's crimson bloom, 
 Can awake sweet chords of pleasure 
 
 Nor your heart to love attune. 
 
 O ye night winds, bear a message 
 
 O'er the proudly rolling sea; 
 Words of love as yet unspoken 
 
 Kindly whisper them to me ; 
 Tell me that my love is waiting 
 
 Of the fairest the most fair, 
 Where the autumn tints are fading 
 
 She is waiting for me there. 
 
 I'LL DREAM LOVE OF THEE. 
 
 SONG. 
 I'm dreaming, my darling 
 
 I'm dreaming of thee, 
 When sleeping or waking, 
 
 By land or by sea ; 
 Should darkness and sorrow 
 
 Through life come to me, 
 To brighten the shadows, 
 
 I'll dream love of thee.
 
 As a bird of the spring-time 
 
 Conceals in her breast, 
 When soaring away to 
 
 Her leaf-hidden nest, 
 The song that so sweetly 
 
 She sings from the tree, 
 I dream of my darling 
 
 I dream love of thee. 
 
 Sometimes in my dreaming, 
 
 Beside thee I stand, 
 I feel the soft touch of 
 
 Your lily-pure hand ; 
 And glory surpassing 
 
 The blue of the skies 
 Illumines my soul from 
 
 Your heavenly eyes. 
 
 And thus while your kisses 
 
 Are tender and sweet, 
 With passionate pleading 
 
 I bow at thy feet ; 
 The answer of fate that 
 
 Your lips would conceal, 
 Your smiles and your blushes 
 
 Can only reveal. 
 
 In some fairy bower, 
 In sweet summer-time, 
 
 I know I shall claim thee 
 Forever as mine,
 
 121 
 
 Till then, through life toiling 
 My pleasure shall be 
 
 To dream of my darling 
 To dream love of thee. 
 
 JENNIE VERNON. 
 
 [ Jennie Vernon, a beautiful child, whose father was killed in battle, 
 presented Col. Lansing a garland of flowers with the request that 
 they be placed on a rebel soldier's grave.] 
 
 Day was drawing near its close, 
 
 Lilies and violets going to sleep ; 
 The robin was singing her vesper hymn, 
 
 When I heard the patter of fairy feet ; 
 I saw 'twas a child divinely fair 
 
 With deep blue eyes so sweet and mild ; 
 But precious, sacred, holy tears 
 
 Dimmed the eyes of the fairy child. 
 
 She seemed an angel sent from Heaven 
 
 With a balm to sooth each aching heart, 
 To cool the fevered scorching brain 
 
 And words of truth and life impart. 
 To banish all coroding cares 
 
 And soothe the suffering mourner's tears; 
 To link in love's immortal chain, 
 
 Our souls, and brighten all the years.
 
 122 
 
 She held aloft a garland fair, 
 
 Just gathered from an odorous dell, 
 Where dew-drops kiss the blushing leaves 
 
 And evening zephyrs their music tell. 
 She spoke I paused entranced to hear 
 
 " Lay this wreath on a rebel soldier's grave, 
 I love them all, my father sleeps 
 
 Where orange blossoms o'er him wave. 
 
 Perhaps some child of the sunny south 
 
 Will drop on father's grave a tear, 
 Or plant a flower to mark the spot 
 
 Where lies the form to me so dear." 
 Oh Father ! let thy will be done, 
 
 Let childhood's lips perfect thy praise ; 
 Oh, light of Heaven, illume our souls 
 
 Speed on the bright and happy days. 
 
 When bound by friendship's golden chain, 
 
 A band of brothers we shall be ; 
 When malice crushed to earth shall die 
 
 And freedom's flag float o'er the free. 
 Then we shall blend with kindred lights, 
 
 Who've passed before to Heaven above, 
 And breathe a soul refreshing air 
 
 Perfumed by censers filled with love.
 
 -123 
 SUMMER NIGHT. 
 
 Oh, summer night, divinely bright, 
 Resting in Luna's silver light; 
 While by her side, one glittering star 
 Directs my wandering thoughts afar. 
 
 Thy shadows steal and hopes reveal 
 Which only trusting souls can feel ; 
 While worshipping before thy shrine ; 
 Oh make these joys forever mine. 
 
 In evening hours, thy sylvan showers, 
 Fall as the dew upon the flowers ; 
 While o'er the shadowy wildwood dell, 
 Soft falls the notes of vesper bell. 
 
 Around my feet pale violets sleep ; 
 With loving hearts the roses weep, 
 And greet me with a fond caress 
 While blessing with their tenderness. 
 
 Oh, summer night, with radiant light 
 The dewdrops showering crystals bright, 
 And fire-flies flitting through the glade 
 Dispense at once both light and shade. 
 
 Sweet summer night, so fair and bright, 
 Encircling me with holy light 
 Thy smiles, my darkest hour can cheer 
 Joy reigns supreme when thou art near.
 
 124 
 
 THE MUSIC OF TEARS. 
 
 The wind hath a low, sad voice, to-night, 
 
 As I dream of departed years ; 
 The wail of the breeze, as it floats thro' the trees, 
 
 Is the mystical music of tears. 
 Each echoing throb, like the heart-felt sob 
 
 Of a soul over-burdened with grief, 
 That can only find, to the wearied mind, 
 
 In the music of tears, relief. 
 
 The wind hath' a tender voice, to-night, 
 
 As it sweeps over last year's leaves, 
 All covered with snow, and it whispers low, 
 
 Of the grain and the golden sheaves 
 That will soon appear, for the harvest year 
 
 Is dawning all over our land ; 
 When the silver light of the sickle bright 
 
 Shall gleam in the reaper's hand. 
 
 Oh ! the wonderful keys of the wind, to-night, 
 
 Are touched by a master hand, 
 And the plaint refrain is echoed again 
 
 By a melody deep and grand ; 
 And the silvery song as it floats along, 
 
 Giveth hope for the coming years; 
 For the roseate glory of smiling morn 
 Of the gloom and the darkness of night is born, 
 
 I have heard thro' the music of tears.
 
 -I2 5 
 
 SEND ME 
 
 HYMN. 
 The harvest work is truly great, 
 
 Though laborers are few; 
 Yet ail who have a will to work 
 
 Can find a work to do. 
 Oh, give me then some humble place, 
 
 Thy love my guide shall be, 
 And where the path of duty leads, 
 
 My Father, pray send me ! 
 
 I would not from the mountain-top 
 
 Look down upon the vale ; 
 For should I strive the hill to climb, 
 
 E'en there my strength might fail ; 
 But I would launch my fragile bark 
 
 Out on life's stormy sea, 
 And ask of Him who rules the storm, 
 
 My Father, pray send me ! 
 
 Oh, may my life show forth Thy praise 
 
 Each day and every hour ; 
 Oh, give me grace to trust my all 
 
 To Heaven's almighty power ! 
 Though sorrows compass me about, 
 
 My soul shall cling to Thee ; 
 And plead from out the gathering storm, 
 
 My Father, pray send me !
 
 126 
 
 I AM WEARY, OH, MY FATHER. 
 
 HYMN. 
 I am weary, oh, my Father, 
 
 My Father I would rest ; 
 Oh, let me lean my aching head, 
 
 Upon Thy loving breast. 
 Surrounded by temptation, 
 
 By trial and by pain, 
 I only can be comforted 
 
 By trusting in Thy name. 
 
 This world is very beautiful, 
 
 E'en here, the angels sing; 
 They tell us of our Father's love 
 
 The happy tidings bring, 
 But death is here, and steals away 
 
 The dearest and the best ; 
 The polished marble marks the spot 
 
 Where our beloved ones rest. 
 
 The rose, in all its conscious pride, 
 
 Is circled by its thorns 
 'Tis thus the sunshine of our lives 
 
 Is shaded by life's storms. 
 But when we lean upon Thy breast 
 
 We see the golden light, 
 And clouds sometimes so threatening 
 
 Descend in blessings bright.
 
 127 
 
 SOFTLY AND LOW. 
 
 Softly and low good angels weep, 
 Guarding o'er those, who silent sleep; 
 Softly the gentle whisperings come : 
 Pilgrim, oh, hasten to thy home. 
 
 Softly and low red roses bloom, 
 Shedding their fragrance o'er the tomb; 
 Then tenderly blushing they pass away, 
 Short lived beauties of a day. 
 
 Softly and low life's dream is told, 
 Through unseen chords on harps of gold 
 While hidden fingers sweep the strings 
 Our heart the answering echo sings. 
 
 Softly and low at evening floats, 
 Over the Alpine hills, sweet notes ; 
 Labor all ended and sins confessed, 
 Weary, the shepherds go home to rest. 
 
 Softly and low the years go by 
 Yet who can tell from whence they fly? 
 This we do know, that they leave their trace 
 Of hope and sorrow on every face.
 
 128 
 
 TO MY BRIDE OF THIRTY YEARS. 
 
 To MR. AND MRS. V. P. W. 
 With friends and children we have met, 
 
 Around the ingleside, 
 To celebrate the happy day 
 
 When you became my bride. 
 Oh ! can it be that thirty years 
 
 H.ave with their blessing fled? 
 And can it be that friends we loved, 
 
 Are numbered with the dead ? 
 
 It seems to me but yesterday 
 
 Since you were young and fair ; 
 Your cheeks were pink as apple bloom 
 
 'Mid springtime's fragrant air. 
 I loved you then, I love you still, 
 
 My heart is yours alone 
 For through the years your smile has blest 
 
 And sanctified our home. 
 
 My thoughts go back and life appears 
 
 A fitful summer dream ; 
 How strange that we have glided down 
 
 So far along life's stream. 
 And yet our Father's loving hand 
 
 Has led us on aright ; 
 With just enough of sorrow's clouds 
 
 To make life's sunshine bright.
 
 129 
 
 While we beside the festal board 
 
 Our loving vows renew, 
 We'll ask for grace to make us strong 
 
 To walk life's journey through. 
 Though autumn winds have strewn our path 
 
 With summer's faded leaves, 
 The golden grain of harvest time 
 
 Is gathered with the sheaves. 
 
 We know not what the years may bring, 
 
 But this we understand : 
 Beyond the sea of life appears 
 
 The blissful summer land, 
 Where spring-time blossoms never fade, 
 
 Nor summer flowers decay ; 
 There angel hands shall open wide 
 
 The gates of perfect day. 
 
 WHAT SHALL WE NAME THE BABY? 
 
 What shall we name the baby ? 
 
 Our darling and our pride ; 
 With pink hands softly folded 
 
 She nestles by our side. 
 Violet, because the violet's blue 
 Speaketh the language, "ever true. 
 9
 
 Or shall we name her Lilly, 
 
 This precious babe of ours 
 We always call the lily . 
 
 The fairest of the flowers 
 Its shining petals speak to me 
 The noble language, purity. 
 
 Then we might name her Daisy ; 
 
 For in the early spring 
 The daisy wakes from pleasant dreams 
 
 To hear the robin sing, 
 And speaks from out its laughing eyes, 
 " True beauty never, never dies." 
 
 Then Snowdrop would be pretty ; 
 * For with a gentle grace, 
 Carnation and the snowdrop 
 
 Are blended in her face. 
 To it the language has been given, 
 "Forget-me-not," and "thoughts of heaven." 
 
 But why not call her Pansy ? 
 
 The pansy's purple hair, 
 Is crowned by a rich jewel 
 
 Such as a queen might wear. 
 Its language shall our darling's be 
 " Sweet be thy dreams and dream of me." 
 
 Or Rosebud though soon withered, 
 We may not call them dead ;
 
 -131- 
 
 When their pure leaves are faded, 
 
 They sweetest incense shed. 
 Of virtues, roses speak of three 
 "Love, innocence and constancy." 
 
 God bless our baby blossom ! 
 
 Angels of peace and love 
 Guard o'er our priceless treasure, 
 
 Good angels from above. 
 We know when life's brief dream is past, 
 Our flower shall bloom in heaven at last. 
 
 GLOOMY WEATHER. 
 
 Oh, dark, dull days, 
 
 No summer sunshine dancing 
 Across the fields 
 
 To music soul-entrancing. 
 The robin folds 
 
 His wings of painted glory ; 
 The dove has ceased 
 
 To tell her plaintive story. 
 
 Fair flowers of June 
 
 Have lost their magic sweetness; 
 And trees bow down 
 
 Their drapery of completeness.
 
 -133- 
 
 All nature mourns, 
 
 For skies are dull with weeping ; 
 Its blue eyes closed 
 
 The meadow violet's sleeping. 
 
 Though June may wear 
 
 Her bridal veil in sorrow, 
 Nature gives hope 
 
 For brightness on the morrow. 
 By faith we learn 
 
 The hidden source divining 
 That far beyond the gloom, 
 
 Heaven's light is shining. 
 
 AN AUTUMN REVERY. 
 
 Oh, thou royal autumn day, 
 Drifting from my sight away, 
 While your banners blue and gold, 
 Draped with crimson in each fold, 
 Seem to say as you pass by, 
 Earth recedes, but heaven is nigh, 
 And with sunlight dropping low 
 Earth and heaven are aglow. 
 
 Nature's harps are all in tune, 
 Just as when the leafy June
 
 Came, all garlanded with flowers 
 Gathered from the woodland bowers ; 
 When her violet covered feet 
 Lightly danced, where roses sweet 
 Softly blushed, with new-born grace, 
 At the summer queen's embrace. 
 
 Now the Hallow-e'en is nigh. 
 When the maiden, with a sigh, 
 Asks the book of fate unrolled 
 Will her destiny be told ; 
 Will her lover, brave and true, 
 Look through eyes of brown or blue ; 
 Will the voice of coming years 
 Bring her smiles, or bring her tears. 
 
 Ah, sweet maiden, for your fate 
 On life's threshold do not wait ; 
 But from all life's budding flowers 
 Gather strength for later hours ; 
 For the joy that blooms to-day 
 May to-morrow fade away ; 
 But through life remember this, 
 Heaven is love, and love is bliss.
 
 134 
 
 COLD, MY DARLING. 
 
 Cold, my darling, lie the shadows 
 
 Out upon the snow-robed lea, 
 And the wind with mournful music 
 
 Sweeps in grandeur from the sea. 
 Cold, so cold the darkening shadows 
 
 Where the wreaths of autumn lay, 
 And the pretty blue-eyed violet 
 
 Sweetly breathed its life away. 
 
 Cold my darling, cold and quiet ; 
 
 Silent is rhe robin's trill ; 
 Nature shows no sign of gladness 
 
 Even the brooklet's voice is still. 
 Trust me, darling, though the shadows 
 
 Deepen on life's stormy sea, 
 For I know glad days of brightness 
 
 Wait my love for you and me. 
 
 Joy ! the glorious dawn is breaking, 
 
 See the red light in the skies, 
 And the golden day reflected 
 
 In the splendor of your eyes. 
 Cold, my darling never, never 
 
 Love's sweet flower that blooms for you; 
 And though dreams of joy may perish 
 
 Still believe me ever true.
 
 -135 
 GIVE ME BACK MY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Give me back my childhood's 
 
 Sunshine and its shade ; 
 Let me romp again 
 
 'Mid the flowers of the glade; 
 Let me gather garlands 
 
 Roses bright and fair 
 Twine the scarlet maple leaves 
 
 In my shining hair. 
 
 Take me to the valley 
 
 Where the violets sleep ; 
 Let me kiss the tears from 
 
 The lilies when they weep; 
 Let me watch the primrose 
 
 Smile with dreaming eyes, 
 When the stars of evening 
 
 Wake with sweet surprise. 
 
 Give me back my childhood 
 
 Life's immortal day ! 
 When the glory of a flower 
 
 Smooths life's cares away; 
 When each chord of music 
 
 Wakes a sweet refrain. 
 Ah, can it be we may not know 
 
 Such days of joy again.
 
 1 3 6 
 
 LIFE IS SHORT AND DEATH IS NEAR. 
 
 Life is short and death is near, 
 Lo, the golden moments flying, 
 
 Whisper as they disappear, 
 
 Passing hours are swiftly dying. 
 
 Whisper, as they float along, 
 
 Crowned with summer's royal sweetness, 
 
 Hearken to our trembling song 
 Years, are days, in full completeness. 
 
 Days o'erclouded by the night, 
 
 Days of woe, and days of sorrow, 
 Days without a sunbeam bright, 
 
 Hopeless for the coming morrow ; 
 Days when hearts were bending low, 
 
 Weary with their weight of weeping ; 
 Cheeks were pale as drifted snow 
 
 'Neath the storms of winter sleeping. 
 
 Days that brought a tranquil joy, 
 
 And the weary heart grew lighter ; 
 Days that knew not pain's alloy 
 
 Heaven was near and earth was brighter. 
 Days made pure by deeds of love, 
 
 And we knew that God intended 
 Thus to lift our souls above, 
 
 When the davs of toil are ended.
 
 137 
 
 Life is short and death is near, 
 Labor for the Master's reaping; 
 
 Soon the harvest shall appear 
 ' Let no soul be idly sleeping, 
 
 Soon the Saviour's voice shall say 
 Unto thee a crown is given ; 
 
 Welcome to the gates of day, 
 Welcome to a home in heaven. 
 
 IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 One day in my garden I found a blush rose, 
 
 All bright with the dew of the sky, 
 And while gently I saw its soft petals unclose, 
 
 Then I knew that the summer was nigh. 
 
 But at noontime my rose bowed its beautiful head, 
 For the sun had been strong and severe 
 
 And at even from its bosom the petals had fled 
 And its fond heart was moist with a tear. 
 
 But around me there floated a fragrance so sweet, 
 As the rose sighed away its last breath ; 
 
 Then I knew that in glory its life was complete, 
 While it passed through the shadow of death. 
 
 Like the rose from my garden our lives pass away , 
 And the work of our destiny's done ; 
 
 But beyond the blue arch of heaven's glorified day, 
 Our lives shall be truly begun.
 
 -138- 
 INTO THE FIELDS WITH GOLDEN GRAIN. 
 
 Into the fields with golden grain, 
 
 A sower went one day to sow ; 
 He scattered wheat, that sun and rain 
 
 Might help the fruitful germs to grow. 
 Then he prayed that the Lord of the harvest would come 
 And bless the good work his hands had done. 
 
 Some of the precious golden seed 
 
 Fell on the dusty barren way, 
 And fowls of the air, in their hungry need, 
 
 Came and bore the good seed away. 
 And with anguish deep and sorrowing pain 
 The sower wept that his work was vain. 
 
 Some of the grains of wheat had found 
 
 Beneath the sun's o'erpowering ray, 
 Root where the rocks and stones abound, 
 
 And they withered at close of day. 
 Then the sower wept in his deep despair, 
 To find that at harvest no wheat was there. 
 
 Seed that was sown amid blossoming flowers, 
 
 Grew in the crimson morning light ; 
 But weeds came up in a few short hours 
 
 And hid the good wheat from his sight. 
 Then the sower exclaimed that his work was vain, 
 But he toiled and trusted the Master's name.
 
 139 
 
 After the passing of many years 
 
 Behold ! a rich harvest of golden wheat ; 
 
 Then the sower knew though he sowed in tears, 
 That his work was now all complete. 
 
 Thus shall the harvest of life be well, 
 
 If we work and wait as the years will tell. 
 
 BITTER WINE. 
 
 In youth I dreamed a dream, 'twas wondrous fair; 
 Around me flowers were blooming everywhere, 
 And roseate clouds sailed slowly in the sky, 
 Their glowing banners floating from on high. 
 
 A river, dancing on from day to day, 
 
 Entwined the shore with wreaths of crystal spray, 
 
 While floating out their white wings overhead 
 
 To catch the perfumed breeze broad sails were spread. 
 
 Birds sang sweet songs and each ecstatic trill 
 Awoke sweet chords that made my being thrill ; 
 I asked my heart amid the enchanting bliss 
 If heaven could be a happier place than this. 
 
 The world seemed pure, I little understood 
 That but for selfish ends the world is good. 
 Thus in my dream, so strangely incomplete, 
 I pressed life's roses smiling at my feet.
 
 140 
 
 When my long cherished dream dissolved away 
 I woke to find my idols were but clay ; 
 In vain I asked of my deluded mind, 
 Where are the joys which now I cannot find ? 
 
 Ah, would that I had earlier learned to know 
 That bitter wine must in life's chalice flow. 
 Though rich the promise of the vintage time, 
 Some unripe clusters bring forth bitter-wine. 
 
 Then press with willing lips life's mystic bowl ; 
 The bitter wine makes strong the fainting soul. 
 Life is a problem, which when understood 
 Reveals alike the evil and the good. 
 
 CAST OFF. 
 
 I saw her in her bridal robes, 
 
 The shimmering lace adorning ; 
 She knew not that mad love for him 
 
 Within my soul was burning. 
 She dreamed not, that to my proud lips 
 
 Love's chalice he presented, 
 And though I dashed the wine away, 
 
 I ever had repented.
 
 I thought, that he would come again, 
 
 His wealth of love revealing, 
 And I would deign to smile on him 
 
 My own deep love concealing. 
 He only said, " the wound to heal 
 
 Shall be my life's endeavor ; 
 Remember, if we part to-night, 
 
 That it shall be forever." 
 
 Long years had passed, he did not come j 
 
 One evening by the river 
 I met a noble manly form : 
 
 It was my absent lover. 
 No words of tenderness he spoke 
 
 To show a heart relenting ; 
 Though on my knees I wildly told 
 
 Him, of my soul's repenting. 
 
 "You are too late," he coldly said, 
 
 "The truth I will not smother ; 
 The love, that might have once been thine, 
 
 Is given to another." 
 Now, at my feet the arrows fall 
 
 From hope's immortal quiver 
 Unloved, unsought, ah, woe is me, 
 
 I am cast off forever.
 
 142 
 
 THEN LIFE WERE WORTH THE LIVING. 
 
 Although my tasks are hard to bear, 
 
 Yet I am often singing 
 The merry chimes of rythmic song 
 
 That in my soul are ringing ; 
 And while each day new duty brings, 
 
 Within my soul is stealing 
 A voice, to wake the sleeping chords 
 
 Of deep poetic feeling. 
 
 I wonder why my life is blest 
 
 By such enchanting sweetness 
 For wealth, or fame, could never bring 
 
 Such gems of rare completeness ; 
 And yet, sometimes, I fain would sigh 
 
 And stoop to weak repining ; 
 Poor foolish heart, too blind to see 
 
 The glory round me shining. 
 
 While thus I mused, and thus I toiled, 
 Throughout the passing hours ; 
 
 I went one day, that I might hold 
 Sweet converse with the flowers. 
 
 White clouds were sailing in the sky; 
 
 A robin's voice was singing ; 
 A cypress on the garden path 
 
 Its scarlet bells was flinging.
 
 -143- 
 
 Ah, stately cypress thus I said 
 Bright queen of floral beauty ; 
 
 A lesson I have learned of you ; 
 A sermon on life's duty. 
 
 I see your queenly head is crowned 
 
 With summer's royal splendor, 
 And yet with all your stately life 
 
 Your heart is pure and tender. 
 There's not a daisy at your feet 
 
 Too low for your caressing ; 
 To each you cast a shining crown 
 
 And give it with your blessing. 
 
 And this methinks I hear you say 
 
 Though soon my life must perish, 
 I care not, if the humblest flower 
 
 One act of mine shall cherish ; 
 One little deed of kindness done 
 
 With pure, unselfish giving ; 
 One mourner blest, one heart made glad, 
 
 Then life were worth the living.
 
 144- 
 
 ONLY A WOMAN'S SMILE. 
 
 Only a woman's smile did I say 
 
 But my heart with its throbbing pain 
 Grows light as the balmy breeze that floats, 
 
 And memory is young again. 
 Before me sweet visions of beauty rise, 
 
 And forgotten is my despair 
 While the holy light of a woman's smile 
 
 Is blended with all my care. 
 
 Only a woman's smile but the stars 
 
 Bow down their golden heads, 
 To listen to woman's magic voice, 
 
 And to kiss the earth she treads. 
 The world would be only a dreary waste 
 
 A sad, unbroken wild 
 No light, no love, no joy, no hope 
 
 Had woman never smiled. 
 
 Only a woman's smile but it lives 
 
 Through all the long dead years ; 
 For there's nothing can equal a woman's smile 
 
 Save only a woman's tears. 
 Woman can make the most humble home 
 
 As bright as the portals of heaven ; 
 The comforting power to bless human hearts 
 
 Unto woman's charmed life has been given.
 
 OUR ANGEL WATCHERS. 
 
 Our dear departed loved ones 
 
 Oh, are they ever near, 
 To touch the throbbing chords of love 
 
 And see the falling tear. 
 Do they whisper of a better home 
 
 Beyond this world of pain ; 
 Do they gently, oh so gently 
 
 Fold us in their arms again. 
 
 Do we think, because we laid them 
 
 'Neath the violets down to sleep ; 
 Where roses of the summer-time 
 
 Their tears of sadness weep ; 
 And though, that we in vain must wait 
 
 Their coming at the door 
 Do we think that we shall never see 
 
 Our angel watchers more. 
 
 They are chanting ; they are chanting 
 Happy songs of love divine 
 
 Oh, I often hear the voices 
 
 Of those precious friends of mine ; 
 
 The echo of the music 
 
 Floats across the distant stream, 
 
 I hear it in my waking hours 
 
 And hear it when I dream. 
 10
 
 146 
 
 And when my heart is lonely, 
 
 And for a balm .would seek, 
 My precious angel watchers 
 
 Fond words of comfort speak. 
 And then my soul takes courage 
 
 As o'er my senses thrill 
 Such words of blissful melody 
 
 As only they can trill. 
 
 ANOTHER YEAR. 
 
 My roses failed to bloom for me this year, 
 
 In vain I waited their unfolding charms ; 
 
 Vile worms with traitorous hearts destroyed the leaves 
 
 Of the fair buds smiling beneath the eaves, 
 
 And lifting at blissful, holy hour of prayer 
 
 Their incense sweet upon the evening air. 
 
 Ah, they may smile again, my heart to cheer 
 
 Another year, in joy another year. 
 
 My pansies, children of most loving care, 
 Their bright eyes sparkling with the morning dew, 
 The sweet expression of each beaming face, 
 The birthplace of a more exquisite grace ; 
 In them I hoped my joy would be complete, 
 But found them withered blossoms at my feet, 
 The jewels faded in their purple hair. 
 Yet, they may bless my life another year.
 
 147- 
 
 I built a ship and sent it out to sea, 
 
 Freighted with deeds of kindness for the friends I love ; 
 
 Some cruel light-house with its glittering ray 
 
 Allured my gilded bark from me away 
 
 Its precious cargo hidden out of sight, 
 
 My deeds of kindness all are unrequite. 
 
 Another year my ship may sail for me ; 
 
 Another year, ah yes, another year. 
 
 Hope's wing is broken, but it is not dead 
 
 Trusting, it soars aloft to realms above, 
 
 And hope that faded with departed years 
 
 Shall rise immortal though it be in tears. 
 
 For ah, perchance, false friends may yet be true, 
 
 All this, even more, another year may do. 
 
 For me life's ripening harvest shall be sweet, 
 
 Though seeds my hands have sown seem incomplete. 
 
 'Tis winter now, but summer-time is near, 
 
 With golden fruitage of another year. 
 
 THRICE WEDDED. 
 
 I am dreaming of my darling, 
 And the days that long are past, 
 
 Sever not the blissful seeming 
 All too bright and pure to last ;
 
 148- 
 
 For the long forgotten memories 
 Into deathless blossoms grow 
 
 As before me floats the vision 
 Of my love of long ago. 
 
 Softly breathe, O blushing roses, 
 
 Hold your breath of fragrance sweet, 
 Lest your breathing wake my slumber 
 
 And my dream be incomplete. 
 Cease your warbling, robin -redbreast ; 
 
 Thrushes chant your matins low, 
 Let me hear the old, old story 
 
 From my love of long ago. 
 
 In the rosy hours of spring-time 
 
 I had given her my heart, 
 But a fate both stern and cruel 
 
 Bade our paths lie far apart. 
 Only in the great hereafter 
 
 I may learn why this was so 
 Why, through life I have been parted 
 
 From my love of long ago. 
 
 Though three times I have been wedded, 
 
 And each time I thought my wife 
 Was the best of noble women, 
 
 And the glory of my life. 
 Though my eyes have lost their brightness, 
 
 And my head is crowned with snow. 
 Yet I never have forgotten, 
 
 MV beloved of long ago.
 
 149 
 
 BRIGHTNESS. 
 
 The world is full of beauty, 
 
 Of gold and crimson light] 
 Break not the blissful dreaming 
 
 That charms my soul to-night. 
 My heart is wildly throbbing 
 
 With joy, akin to pain 
 Spare me; break not the mystic spell, 
 
 Oh, sever not the chain. 
 
 Dance on, oh rippling waters 
 
 Across the rock-bound strand ; 
 Laugh at the poisoned chalice 
 
 That grief holds in her hand ; 
 I'll take from joy the gilded cup 
 
 And quaff the sparkling wine, 
 Fresh from the purple clusters 
 
 Just gathered from the vine. 
 
 'Twas pain, the soul refiner, 
 
 That brought this perfect bliss ; 
 My brightest dreams of pleasure 
 
 Have never equalled this. 
 Earth's withering cares and sorrows 
 
 Have vanished from my view ; 
 Heaven's gates of pearl are open 
 
 And the splendor shining through.
 
 SUBMISSION. 
 
 I would that I could soar away 
 
 Up through the straight and narrow way, 
 
 And enter the blissful realms of day, 
 
 Where thought has often flown. 
 My soul aflame with holy fire, 
 I'd touch with joy some angel's lyre, 
 And as the strains rose higher, higher, 
 
 I'd bow before the throne. 
 
 But ah, were life a summer dream ; 
 If no dark cloud should intervene, 
 And joys were lasting as they seem, 
 
 Would my poor selfish heart 
 Deal gently with a brother's woe ; 
 Lift burdens from the poor and low ; 
 With sweet words soothe the mourner's woe 
 
 And of it bear a part ? 
 
 With patience I must learn to wait, 
 But not with those who come too late, 
 To enter at the golden gate 
 
 Celestial joys on high. 
 I'll follow at the Saviour's feet, 
 And pray my work shall be complete, 
 Each duty through His love made sweet ; 
 
 Thus Heaven is ever nigh.
 
 DEPARTED JUNE. 
 
 Flower-crowned May went to sleep near a musical rill, 
 Just when June was beginning her songs to trill, 
 Went to sleep 'neath the silvery moon. 
 
 June's cheeks grew red 
 
 And she blushingly said 
 I'll scatter fresh flowers 
 
 O'er the sleeper's bed 
 Then sweet bloomed the roses of June. 
 
 June followed her sleeping sister May, 
 
 And the flowers wept when she went away, 
 
 And the dove wailed a mournful tune. 
 
 But blithe and gay 
 
 Was our queen that day ; 
 As little children 
 
 When at their play. 
 Light-hearted and happy June. 
 
 She will come again with her smiles and tears, 
 When the cycles pass of departing years ; 
 She will come in her beauty and bloom. 
 
 With blossoms rare 
 
 In her golden hair; 
 
 Clothed in wonderful robes 
 
 Such as summer shall wear, 
 Then we'll welcome our smiling June.
 
 WITH THE GIFT OF A ROSE. 
 
 You gave me a rose, my fair young friend 
 A rose all fresh with morning dew 
 
 A fragrant rose, whose blushes blend 
 
 With the smile on your lips, so pure and true. 
 
 A radiant rose you seem to me, 
 
 With joyful heart and fancy free, 
 
 And dancing feet that gayly glide 
 
 O'er life's summer sea, with its rising tide. 
 
 O sweet -breathed rose ! O precious flower ! 
 
 In silent language all your own 
 You speak of dell and woodland bower 
 
 Where wood-nymphs weave their leafy throne. 
 Where thrushes join in gleeful song, 
 While echoing hills the notes prolong, 
 And rippling streams with music sweet 
 Go dancing on with fairy feet. 
 
 The artist's pencil seeks in vain 
 
 To paint the glory of a rose ; 
 The poet's soul must throb with pain, 
 
 And dream in love's secure repose, 
 Ere he can sing a tender song 
 Of memories dear that round him throng, 
 Of roses sweet ; that faded soon 
 But blest the summer with their bloom.
 
 My fair young friend, your gift shall be 
 
 Remembered in the future years, 
 Though life should only bring to me 
 
 A gathered recompense of tears. 
 Ah, may your life be bright with leaves 
 All harvested in golden sheaves, 
 And budding hopes with blossoms bright 
 Dispel the shadowy clouds of night. 
 
 GENTLE WORDS. 
 
 Gentle words are precious jewels 
 
 Whose worth can ne'er be told ; 
 We should value them as rubies 
 
 Set in shining frames of gold. 
 Ah, 'tis well, like running water 
 
 Gentle words are always free 
 Do not fear to use them often 
 
 Thus rewarded you shall be. 
 
 Should you find an erring brother 
 
 Stumbling just about to fall 
 Give your hand to help him gently, 
 
 Or do not help at all. 
 For should you speak unkindly, 
 
 You might find your words were vain 
 Go, spread roses in his pathway 
 
 And remove the thorns of pain.
 
 -154 
 
 Should his feeble footsteps tremble 
 
 On the dark and dangerous brink ; 
 Go and throw your arms around him, 
 
 Do not let your brother sink. 
 Shield him from the cruel tempter 
 
 'Till the tempter's power is past ; 
 Do this seven times and seventy 
 
 You may win his soul at last. 
 
 There is an Eye above us 
 
 Notes the sparrows when they fall, 
 And with loving arms extended 
 
 He is watching over all. 
 And our deeds shall not be hidden 
 
 While our thoughts are understood ; 
 And our acts shall be remembered 
 
 Both the evil and the good. 
 
 LITTLE MARY. 
 
 [A little girl whose mother was a friend of the author, said one day : 
 " Mother, I want to see Jesus. Please brush the clouds away."] 
 
 "I want to see Jesus; 
 
 Mother, brush the clouds away ; ' ' 
 'Twas thus said little Mary 
 
 One pleasant summer day :
 
 155 
 
 And o'er her childish features 
 Fell a flood of go-lden light, 
 
 While good angels gathered 'round her 
 In their robes of fairy white. 
 
 " I want to see Jesus, 
 
 Does He dwell among the stars 
 Where the amber sunlight lingers 
 
 In mellow golden bars ? 
 Mother, I want to see him 
 
 Oh ! will he be my friend, 
 And, if I always love Him, 
 
 Will He save me in the end ? ' ' 
 
 Years have passed, and little Mary 
 
 In life's cares has borne a part, 
 And the image of the Master 
 
 Is reflected in her heart ; 
 And though clouds have often hidden 
 
 Life's brightness from her view, 
 She has learned to always love Him 
 
 And through faith to trust Him too. 
 
 Ah, many, very many, 
 
 Have breathed the self-same prayer, 
 When their path has been surrounded 
 
 By anguish and despair; 
 But Jesus kindly whispers 
 
 He will brush the clouds away, 
 And welcome all who love Him 
 
 To the realms of endless day.
 
 i. -6 
 
 WHERE SHALL THE SOUL FIND REST. 
 
 Where shall the troubled soul find rest 
 On Chimborazo's rugged steep ; 
 
 Or on the Ganges' sluggish tide 
 
 Where deadly night-winds softly creep. 
 
 Or where the frightened Arab flies 
 Before the simoon's poisonous breath ; 
 
 Upon the torrid, burning sands ; 
 
 No. There to linger would be death. 
 
 Deep down in hidden ocean caves, 
 While all around dark billows roar ; 
 
 Or where the restless, sleepless Nile 
 Is washing Egypt's fertile shore. 
 
 Or out upon green Oman's sea 
 
 Where pearls in silent beauty sleep, 
 
 And the pale moon shines languidly 
 While stars their quiet vigil keep. 
 
 In lands where glittering iceberg's spire 
 Points to the gloomy arctic sky ; 
 
 Or mid Stromboli's crimson flame 
 Shall the o'erburdened spirit fly.
 
 Where Lebanon's tall cedars wave 
 
 And Zion's daughters sorrowing weep ; 
 
 Or out upon the emerald plains 
 
 Where faithful shepherds watch their sheep. 
 
 Where California's golden sands 
 
 Produce the burnished shining ores; 
 
 Or where the thundering cataract 
 Its volume of destruction pours. 
 
 Ah no ; beyond the Heavenly hills 
 
 Where faith can see the immortal shore 
 
 Our aching hearts may seek for rest, 
 Where toil and sorrow come no more. 
 
 TO AN OLD FRIEND. 
 
 [The Saturday Evening Post via.?, a valued literary friend of the author 
 in childhood, and subsequently she became a contributor for its 
 columns.] 
 
 My dear old friend your smiling face 
 
 Reminds me of my childhood hours, 
 When in my heart you found a place, 
 
 Enwreathed in fancy's budding flowers ; 
 I loved you then, I love you still 
 
 As other hearts can surely say 
 These memories bright my senses thrill 
 
 And bear me back to childhood's day.
 
 -158- 
 
 When first we met my hair was gold 
 
 As rippling wavelets of the sea, 
 But now they say I'm growing old 
 
 I wonder, friend, if this can be ? 
 The fields were red with clover bloom 
 
 And gay the thrushes' woodland song, 
 The air was rich with sweet perfume, 
 
 The meadow brooklet danced along. 
 
 But ah, alas, in later years, 
 
 Where grapes 'mid clustering foliage fell, 
 I found the recompense of tears 
 
 For work that seemed to me was well. 
 And roses gathered all too soon 
 
 Dropped at my feet in frail decay, 
 While ships I hoped to greet at noon 
 
 Would drift from out my sight away. 
 
 Dear friend, since you have older grown 
 
 And marked the cycles of the years, 
 Pray tell me where the years have flown 
 
 And where the smiles and where the tears ; 
 Where are the friends whose rythmic flow 
 
 Through your bright pages spoke to me ; 
 My dear old friends of long ago 
 
 Oh, tell me where those friends can be ? 
 
 As now I read your pages through 
 
 With earnest thought from day to day,
 
 -'59- 
 
 You give me hope and bring to view 
 For future life a brighter way. 
 
 Your heart is young, your life is old, 
 In unison we thus agree, 
 
 And joys our lives have often told 
 Give life to you and strength to me.
 
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