LIBRARY 
 
 OK THK 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 | AN1895 
 ^Accessions No.STfjf^ . Class No. 
 
IW 
 
 ~^J 
 
SUNNYSIDE (pages 67, 90). 
 
VERSES 
 
 FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 BY E. S. GOODHUE. 
 
 All are architects of Fate, 
 
 Working in these walls of Time; 
 
 Some with massive deeds and great, 
 
 Some with ornaments of rhyme. 
 
 Nothing useless is, or low; 
 
 Each thing in its place is best; 
 And what seems but idle show 
 Strengthens and supports the rest." 
 
 Longfellow, 
 
 OAKLAND : 
 
 PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING COMPANY. 
 1888. 
 
 U1TITERSIT7 
 
3 
 
 1 O flowering stretches glow and shine, 
 The language of my heart is thine." 
 
 COPYRIGHTED, \BQQ. 
 
 ^ H. 
 
TO HIS DEAFUM-QTHER 
 f- / . 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
CO N T E N TS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CONSPIRACY 9 
 
 FLOWERS 14 
 
 A LESSON 15 
 
 IN THE TULES 17 
 
 To P. H. H 18 
 
 MY VALLEY , 19 
 
 ECHO CASTLE 20 
 
 To MY NAMESAKE 25 
 
 LOVE FIRST 27 
 
 Two CITIES 30 
 
 PECCAVI 32 
 
 RELEASE 34 
 
 GOD RULES 37 
 
 MNEMOSYNE 38 
 
 THE DYING YEAR 41 
 
 A MOTHER S LOVE 44 
 
 PSYCHE 46 
 
 SILENCE 48 
 
 THE CLOCK AND THE OWL 50 
 
 THE THRONG 54 
 
 MY CHOICE 55 
 
 SINCERITY 57 
 
 JEALOUSY : 59 
 
 A CAROL 61 
 
 THE WAY OF THE WORLD 62 
 
 To A YOUNG FRIEND , 63 
 
 EVENA , 64 
 
 PROVIDENCE 64 
 
 IN OUR LAND 65 
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIDE 65 
 
 (v) 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 I AGE. 
 
 SUNNYSIDE 67 
 
 FEAR NOT 68 
 
 LOOK UP 68 
 
 To A CHILD 69 
 
 RECONCILIATION 7 ! 
 
 BY THE CLOCK 73 
 
 THE EBB AND FLOW 75 
 
 You 76 
 
 THE WISER PLAN 77 
 
 A SONNET 7$ 
 
 THE RAIN 79 
 
 LINES 8o 
 
 CLOUDS 8l 
 
 CARELESS WORDS 82 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE ILIA OF AN OLD SKELETON 82 
 
 To GRIEF 8 5 
 
 FRAGMENT 8 5 
 
 MONEY 8 7 
 
 FRUSTRATED 88 
 
 SUNNY SIDE 9 
 
 ST. JOHN S CHURCH 94 
 
 To MY CONFESSOR 96 
 
 To NELLIE - 97 
 
 MIDNIGHT 9 8 
 
 THE LEADERS 99 
 
 IN THE MAPLEWOOD I0 
 
 To CAPTAIN L I01 
 
 o- 
 
 EARLY PIECES. 
 
 X PAGE. 
 
 To MOTHER I0 3 
 
 HOLD THOU MY HAND I0 4 
 
 TRUE FRIENDS Io6 
 
 LINES, ON RECEIVING A BUNCH OF MAGNOLIA LEAVES 107 
 
 FIDUS ACHATES I0 9 
 
 FOLLOW ME 1 1 1 
 
CONTENTS. _ vn 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A GUEST "5 
 
 How THE WATER LILY CAME 1 16 
 
 AT EVENING I2 
 
 To M. J. A. P I22 
 
 I DID NOT KNOW 123 
 
 To MY BROTHER ON His BIRTHDAY 126 
 
 IN A SCHOOL-MATE S ALBUM 128 
 
 THE Two ROADS I2 8 
 
 NlCODEMUS I2 9 
 
 APPLE BLOSSOMS ...... 130 
 
 Two SOLILOQUIES I3 1 
 
 To MAY I3 1 
 
 IN AN ALBUM i3 2 
 
 DE GOOD OLE DAYS ; 133 
 
 COME LONG, SINNAH 135 
 
 As WE GWINE TURNIN RouN i3 6 
 
 -O- 
 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 PAGE . 
 
 MARGUERITE i.39 
 
 DUST TO DUST H 
 
 FRAGMENT H 2 
 
 GOD H 2 
 
 THE SWEET NIGHTS H 2 
 
 ARCANA 143 
 
 APHORISM H3 
 
 FAITH . . H3 
 
 FLORIDIANA. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CANTO i 145 
 
 CANTO ii 152 
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY 165 
 
 CANTO in i7 2 
 
 VIOLA S CHARM 183 
 
THY LAND WITH ITS HIGH, HIGH HILLS, AND ITS SUNKEN DALES 
 
UlTITBRS 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 O 
 
 CONSPIRACY. 
 
 ; THOU comest again?" 
 Said the mild-faced moon 
 To the bearded rime, 
 
 "Thou comest again?" 
 
 "Aye, aye," cried the giant, as hurrying fast 
 He came from the North in a northern blast, 
 
 " I have touched thy land at last. 
 Thy land with its high, high hills 
 And its sunken dales; 
 
 With its lakes of crystal; with its mountain rills 
 And its vales. 
 
 I shall spread my tent some night 
 Upon that plain of flowers. 
 When the sun is asleep and far away, 
 When you smile upon earth in a silver ray, 
 I will alight, 
 
 And blow my cold breath for hours and hours, 
 Till .the lakes smoke up, and the rills sink low; 
 Till the hills are covered with inches of snow, 
 And all the flowers that lie in the vale 
 Shall utter a wail, and lament and cry: 
 Oh ! spare us to-night ! Oh ! let us not die; 
 But I shall breathe out my frosty breath 
 And bring to a million of flowers their death." 
 
 (9) 
 
: : VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 -Thou art cruel, O frost !" 
 Said the kind-feced moon 
 . : :r.e :::s:y kir. r . 
 "The North is thy home, 
 And why shouldst thon roam 
 To this joyous land where* roses blow, 
 When your land is buried in ice and snow? 
 Thou an well in thy place, 
 And thy bearded face, 
 Frozen with ice into points of glass 
 Which rattle and glitter as we pass, 
 Is merry full oft, and kindly withal. 
 Bringing much cheer to great and to small. 
 
 -A month ago in the North, the leaves fell 
 Down from the trees. 
 Euroclydon came sandalless and cried: 
 Now is the day at hand, come forth ! 
 Prepare ye every one. A knell 
 Sounds loud in every whistling wind; 
 Summer and sun and warmth have died/ 
 
 "Forthwith the leaves turned red, 
 
 The shining silks of corn grew brown, 
 . The pumpkins yellow, r v erhead 
 A sea of leaden sky did drown 
 The former blue, and cast about 
 Its waves of drifting cloud, 
 East, west, and north, and south, 
 Like vast redoubts 
 To guard some cannon s mouth. 
 Rain came, and chilly air, 
 
Ml-SCELLAXEC I I 
 
 With winds that shook the apples down. 
 Now ripe and mellow, plump and brown; 
 While crows flew southward, flock by flock, 
 And goose and crane and wily hawk; 
 Full grew the barns of scented hay, 
 ? _: ever. r.t . : _-r lire ir. : _-iy 
 
 "Then one night die snow 
 Came falling down, 
 
 And fell into the field and into the town. 
 Down thro the darkness, flake by dake, 
 While the world slept and none were awake. 
 And when morning came they saw thy face, 
 It was smiling to them from an open space. 
 So they cried: - He has come, he Ins camt, - 
 For the rivers and lakes are stricken dumb." 
 
 "After that night when I looked on the earth, 
 It was ringing with laughter and mirth: 
 White were the rirer and lake: 
 Buried each bush and brake; 
 And thine icy breath 
 Brought life, not death. 
 Far below, below, 
 Deep under the snow, 
 
 Were hidden the flowers and blades of grass. 
 And lads were shouting: c Oh ho! oh ho! 
 Here is the snow, the snow/ 
 
 As I smile on these flowers to-night, 
 And the warm wind touches them soft and light. 
 
 : 5::::".= .15 e :- A ii.-erer.: s^r.: 
 Far up in the North, on a frozen lake, 
 
12 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Many lads and lassies do gaily make 
 The country around them in mirth awake. 
 They are skating and sliding and slipping along, 
 Hand in hand to the tune of a song, 
 Muffled and hidden in blanket and fur; 
 Hidden as safe as a nut in its burr. 
 
 "Blow and bluster, King Winter 
 Freeze the air into ice, 
 These are ready to greet thee 
 In any device; 
 But come not, I pray thee, 
 To frighten the children 
 Of sunshine and warmth." 
 
 Thus answered the king: 
 " To-night I shall visit this foot-hill and plain; 
 To-morrow your sun may well number his slain; 
 For my mission is hither, 
 I cannot go back: 
 Though, alack! alack! 
 I blight and I wither 
 The flowers in my track. 
 
 I rode from the North on the ridge of your mountain; 
 In the darkness I came; 
 And soon all the sleeping 
 Will rise into weeping." 
 
 Then the stars flashed and twinkled 
 Out into the sky, 
 And Mars made reply, 
 "You hard-hearted monster, 
 Go back to your place, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 13 
 
 Where the icicles hang, 
 Like fruit from the trees, 
 As they hang from your face. 
 Go back to your kingdom 
 And lasting disgrace." 
 
 "Tiscold, cold, cold, 
 
 I fear I m growing old," 
 
 Whispered a larkspur trembling. 
 
 Then Venus called across the space: 
 "Come not, O king! be not so base ; 
 
 Not for one day, t ; , 
 
 Come not, I pray." 
 
 But the old king laughed as he stood on the hill, 
 Bearded and frozen, with long, hoary locks; 
 As he shook off the frost from his crimson frill, 
 And stamped in the snow with his leathern socks. 
 
 "Down from the hill I. will glide 
 And slide ; 
 Down to the valley 
 Through canon and alley." 
 
 At this the stars grew larger, blinking, 
 And the moon moved swifter on ; 
 A south wind came, and winking 
 The moon-man s srhile was longer drawn, 
 As from the corners of the sky 
 Clouds grew and spread afar and nigh, 
 Huge, black, and swift they hurried by ; 
 Loud from above the thunder pealed ; 
 Moon, stars, and all were now concealed, 
 
14 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 While torrents fell 
 On hill and dell. 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 O PRECIOUS, precious flowers ! I love 
 Your glad, sweet faces as they srrile 
 Up from the hills for many a mile ; 
 Up to the light which from above 
 Comes to you, like some white-winged dove, 
 With cheering message for a while ! 
 Oh ! could I longer here beguile 
 
 Your shortening stay, and to you prove 
 How very much I love you all, 
 
 And how you fill my heart with joy ; 
 How thoughts go back at your soft call, 
 
 To days when I was but a boy, 
 W r hen, hidden in the blossoms tall, 
 
 I did my happy hours employ. 
 
 Or, gathering May-buds in the spring- 
 Under the birch and maple trees 
 For wondering boys and busy bees 
 Left as a graceful offering 
 I wreathed around my hat a ring 
 And there fell down upon my knees, 
 Thanking the God who all things sees, 
 
 In prayer that was a whispering, 
 For all these tiny tokens fair, 
 
 Scattered with such a lavish hand ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 1 5 
 
 For you, dear flowers, who have no care, 
 But work in silence through the land ! 
 
 Then, taking all my arms could bear, 
 Went home along the river strand. 
 
 And, as upon the mountain-side 
 I lie and watch the stretching plain, 
 Boyhood comes back to me again, 
 And years among the daisies hide, 
 As though, sweet years, they had not died. 
 Old memories loved crowd thro my brain, 
 Bringing a sort of spirit-pain 
 
 With o ergrown vistas opened wide; 
 And once again the gratitude 
 
 That filled my child-heart, flowing o er, 
 As stood I in the maple-wood, 
 
 Comes down upon me as before, 
 And to kind Nature s God I would 
 
 My heart in grateful feelings pour. 
 Pachappa Hill. 
 
 A LESSON. 
 
 AT my window an apricot tree 
 
 That has stood there the long winter through, 
 As leafless and bare as a dead thing could be, 
 
 Has taken on robes fresh and new, 
 And dressed up as gaily as any fair maid, 
 That comes to the church in her beauty arrayed. 
 
 I was thinking not long since Ah ! well, 
 
1 6 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 I will cut down that rough-looking tree, 
 For I thought, as I heard others tell, 
 
 It was really no service to me; 
 Ungrateful and selfish I was, I confess, 
 And very forgetful of past kindliness. 
 
 Lo! this morning I awoke, and beheld 
 Every twig clothed in purity white, 
 
 A thousand sweet blossoms six petals each held- 
 Their faces so happy and bright, 
 
 As if to reprove my impatience, and say : 
 
 Be less hasty in judging of others, I pray. 
 
 Tis a comfort to me when I sit 
 
 And look toward the west, from my room, 
 
 To watch how the petals are lit, 
 
 As the morning light falls on their bloom; 
 
 And I promise my heart ne er a child shall I be, 
 
 But this lesson will learn from my apricot tree: 
 
 That each has his work, and his time 
 
 In which that same work should be done; 
 
 That waiting is labor sublime, 
 
 When preparing and waiting are one; 
 
 That many adjudged to be idle, are those 
 
 Who make the world better, and lessen its woes. 
 
 That another I never may chide, 
 Till I know the intents of his heart; 
 
 By God s standard his works may abide, 
 As my own, by that standard, depart; 
 
 That with good-will and patience, results we shall 
 
 From men, as from also my apricot tree. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 17 
 
 IN THE TULES. 
 
 CHATTER and chatter and chatter, 
 
 In the tall tules all day long, 
 Singing a blackbird chorus 
 
 To the notes of a blackbird song. 
 
 Darker than jet are the singers, 
 
 And their coats shine in the sun; 
 Whistle, and sing, and chatter 
 
 Will they till the day is done. 
 
 And as long as the moonlight glances 
 
 Down into the blades of green; 
 As long as one ray of glimmer 
 
 May over the hills be seen. 
 
 Early and bright in the morning, 
 
 Ere old Helios calls his steed, 
 Swinging are all my blackbirds, 
 
 On many a flag and reed. 
 
 To the music of the clatter, 
 
 The cat s-tails nod and bend, 
 While the small stalks shake and shiver, 
 
 Yet attentively attend. 
 
 "Oh! fie on these noisy madcaps," 
 
 A fussy old mud-hen cries, 
 As out, with -an angry splutter, 
 
 She quick from her snug nest hies. 
 
 " How tired am I of such revels, 
 Such wild and hilarious mirth; 
 
1 8 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 I declare, not one hour have I rested, 
 Not one hour since the day of my birth." 
 
 And away off she flies, as huffy 
 
 As ever a mud-hen was, 
 Cursing the birds for her trouble, 
 
 And calling them heartless daws. 
 
 Two turtle-doves cooed from the branches; 
 Four rabbits were met; " Such a chance," 
 Said one of the four to the others, 
 " For a giddy whirl and a dance." 
 
 Twas a dance to the blackbird music, 
 
 And much of a rigadoon, 
 As you might have seen, had you watched them, 
 
 As they danced by the light of the moon. 
 
 Chatter and chatter and chatter, 
 
 In the tall tules all day long, 
 Singing a blackbird chorus, 
 
 At the end of a blackbird song. 
 
 TO P. H. H. 
 
 1 THERE lives the poet," said he, pointing down 
 
 To a low cottage in the oak and pine: 
 
 He who has writ so many a joyous line," 
 
 Then left me on the hill, and to the town 
 
 Went slowly back. As through the old trees brown 
 
 The morning sunbeams now began to shine, 
 
 And flood the forest with their li^ht divine, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 19 
 
 I stayed upon the fragrant sward, and sat me down, 
 Thinking of all thy inspirations sweet, 
 Caught, poet, from thy happy Southern wood, 
 Where mocking birds in merry concerts meet, 
 And sighing pines for centuries have stood. 
 Then blessed I thee for all thy strains that greet 
 And cheer the hearts of men, with weary feet. 
 Here could I praises sing, and fondly tell 
 Unto my soul and to the aged trees; 
 To blades of grass and birds and humble-bees, 
 Words they might list and understand as well, 
 But which, if in thine ear they sounding fell, 
 Would grate thee and thy poet s soul displease. 
 Augusta, Ga., October, 1881. 
 
 MY VALLEY. 
 
 MY valley hidden lies 
 
 Within its circling hills, 
 Above it stretch the arching skies, 
 
 And to it Northern chills, 
 Ne er come with deadly breath to freeze, 
 The life-blood of its orange trees. 
 
 Italian skies smile down 
 
 Upon the reaching plain, 
 Where glossy groves of far renown, 
 
 Hang with- the fruit of Spain; 
 Praised oft with poet s fire and zest, 
 The golden apples of the west 
 
20 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Fruit given to Jupiter, 
 
 The highest god, by one 
 Who, queen of heaven, possessed in her 
 
 The beauty of the sun 
 Small spheres of gold which tempting shine 
 Like rounded nuggets of the mine. 
 Armenia s children spread 
 
 Their ovate foliage wide, 
 And pomegranate blossoms red 
 
 Behind the hedges hide ; 
 Australian giants, odd and tall, 
 Stretch awkward branches over all. 
 I love my valley, and 
 
 I love what in it lies; 
 Not only miles of beauteous land 
 
 And cloudless, smiling skies, 
 But hearts of many there, who hold 
 The love I treasure more than gold. 
 They love my valley too, 
 
 For theirs it is as well. 
 And sheltered neath its dome of blue 
 
 In fairy homes they dwell. 
 Olympian gods might envy those 
 Who in my vale find their repose. 
 
 Riverside, Cat. 
 
 o 
 
 ECHO CASTLE. 
 
 AGAIN I see a castle old, 
 
 With broken gate and shattered tower, 
 
 Covered with vines of passion-flower. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 21 
 
 Alone it stood among the oak 
 
 And palm and bay trees, deep in gloom, 
 
 With windows high and spacious room. 
 
 Not far away the ocean tossed 
 Its noisy wave against a shore, 
 That lay resistant in the roar, 
 
 And groaned in deep-toned voice, around 
 The castle and through all the wood, 
 As only earth to ocean could. 
 
 Here came we when the sun went down, 
 And from the west a reddening glow 
 Fell upon us and all below, 
 
 Touching the trees with darker shade. 
 Tinting the white blooms as they lay 
 Closing almost, at close of day. 
 
 "Come, let us go within," I said, 
 And climb the stairway of the tower, 
 There to enjoy our leisure hour. 
 
 And so through darksome hall we went, 
 Yet pausing oft to catch the sound 
 That from our footsteps echoed round. 
 
 "Alice," the echo ever cried, 
 
 From sound of voice or footstep fall, 
 "A-lice," the echo seemed to call. 
 
 Closer my side my friend did press, 
 In half-way fear and shy alarm; 
 I felt her heart beat on mv arm. 
 
VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 I knew she wondered why each sound 
 Of voice or step or creaking floor, 
 Should echo "Alice," nothing more, 
 
 Through room and hall and winding tower, 
 And so I nothing said, while she 
 Drew close and closer unto me. 
 
 With silent voice and noiseless tread, 
 We reached the mouldy turret stair, 
 When, breaking shrilly through the air, 
 
 The horrid screech of frightened owl 
 Brought echoes loud from every wall, 
 Of cellar, attic, tower, and hall. 
 
 "Alice," the echoes singly came, 
 And met and mingled in one note. 
 So dreadful as they rudely smote 
 
 Ceiling and rafter with the sound, 
 
 Repeating ever, till they died 
 
 Like strangling ghosts on every side. 
 
 I felt the heart-beats plainer still, 
 And tremors with them soon began 
 To grow electric, as they ran. 
 
 We touched the crumbling, mossy stair; 
 With shadows dark we moved along, 
 As portion of the spirit throng, 
 
 And gained at length a turret small, 
 Reaching above the palm trees high, 
 With opening toward the starry sky, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 23 
 
 From which the moon, now rising, shone 
 Down on the forest and the sea, 
 Down on my gentle maid and me. 
 
 What," said she softly, "can it mean, 
 This plaintive, changeless echo voice, 
 Without a varying note of choice ? " 
 
 Tis not an echo, but a call, 
 
 A startling, dismal monotone 
 
 That might have echoes of its own." 
 
 And so I told her, as we sat 
 
 Up in that ancient, moonlit bower, 
 
 The story of the mouldy tower. 
 
 How in the years of long ago 
 
 A youthful lover, good and true, 
 
 Had planned the castle through and through, 
 
 And built it then accordingly 
 
 For her he loved more than his life; 
 
 For her who was to be his wife. 
 
 Sweet Alice Hope, the fairest maid 
 That ever lived where palm trees grow, 
 And orange blossoms bud and blow. 
 
 And when the castle ready grew, 
 With shady lawn and garden plot. 
 With not a beauteous thing forgot, 
 
 Or not a thing the heart could wish, 
 The lover brought his smiling bride 
 Up to the mansion, by his side. 
 
24 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY.. 
 
 And there they passed a happy day, 
 Till night spread o er the castle high, 
 Its mantle dark and shrouded sky; 
 
 Then, as the lover lay asleep, 
 Thinking in dreams of his fair bride, 
 Dark forms did through the castle glide, 
 
 While echoes low called out in vain 
 From muffled footsteps as they fell 
 "It is not well, it is not well." 
 
 At midnight hour the lover woke, 
 A And, listening, heard fall everywhere 
 
 Faint echoes through the heavy air; 
 
 And, starting, found himself alone; 
 Alone in couch and room and hall; 
 Alone within his castle wall. 
 
 "Alice," he called, "Alice, my love," 
 
 But back into his lonely room 
 "Alice," came echoing through the gloom. 
 
 Then quick the lover rose in fear, 
 And trembling ran, and wildly cried, 
 As voice notes into echoes died. 
 
 Though weeks went by he never found 
 Her whom he searched both day and night, 
 With beating heart and tearful sight, 
 
 Till sad he grew, morose and gray. 
 Till strangely in his eyes there came 
 The red lamps of unreason s flame; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 25 
 
 And through the castle, wild he ran 
 In maddened frenzy, knowing not 
 Entreating word or sober thought. 
 
 So thus he searched, but never found, 
 And died at length within the tower 
 Where sit we at this very hour. 
 
 And ever since his maniac voice 
 Broke jangling discord in the air, 
 "Alice," is echoed everywhere. 
 
 TO MY NAMESAKE. 
 
 FORTUNE and fame are mine, strange chance, 
 
 I own! 
 
 Deserving neither, I may claim 
 Both honors in thy infant name ! 
 
 "Obscure, unknown," I cried, "Ah me!" 
 
 And dreamed, 
 
 But never that my name would be 
 Passed downward to posterity ! 
 
 Yet so it fell about. One night 
 
 A soul, 
 
 Whose, none can tell, came down to earth 
 Wrapped in the circle of its girth. 
 
 Down from mysterious heights it drew 
 
 To us, 
 
 When, by some subtle power, unknown, 
 It snapped apart the virgin zone, 
 
26 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And turned from life of chrysalid 
 
 To what, 
 
 Though small, is still another I, 
 Which must into expansion fly, 
 
 And see and feel and think and speak 
 
 Like men ; 
 
 Be just as much what others are 
 As star is like another star. 
 
 Well, thanks to kindness, thou dost bear 
 
 My name ; 
 
 Not for the name s sake, but for mine, 
 And for the sake of auld lang syne. 
 
 Though when my head is white, wilt thou 
 
 Be young. 
 
 When I descend the hill thy feet 
 Will reach new paths with footsteps fleet. 
 
 Youth will thy guardian be mine, age. 
 
 And so, 
 
 When in my ear no voices call, 
 Thy name will into circles fall. 
 
 Some blushing maid will say thy name 
 
 In love; 
 
 Will write it down full oft, and stay 
 Upon each writing half the day ; 
 
 Think what a perfect name to have, 
 
 Then add, 
 
 Shyly enough, though no one sees, 
 Such words as may her fancy please. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 27 
 
 This will be quite reward enough 
 
 For me, 
 
 If, watching, I can speak a word 
 That by my namesake shall be heard. 
 
 If, speaking from my rugged hill, 
 
 I know 
 
 That thou shalt listen as I speak : 
 "Son, look above; Christ s kingdom seek. 
 
 " There is no joy on earth but His, 
 
 No peace; 
 
 Let Him thine own possession be, 
 And all things else shall come to thee." 
 
 LOVE FIRST. 
 
 To C. 
 
 Do you remember how, one tranquil night, 
 When all the shore along where eye could reach 
 Tall palms cast graceful shadows on the beach, 
 And spreading oaks hung low with mystic white, 
 We lay us down on beds of drifted shells, 
 And listened long to what the ocean tells? 
 How waves came rolling from the boundless sea, 
 With thoughts from far away for you and me, 
 Of life and love and of eternity ? 
 
 Life then indeed seemed fair and sweet, 
 Its years, like passers in the street, 
 Met thoughtless, without time to greet. 
 
28 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Love! how its very semblance shone 
 
 And flashed and warmed. Ah ! had we known 
 
 How soon its ashes would he sown! 
 
 Eternity the sound we heard, 
 Though not a leaf of thought it stirred. 
 The sound we knew, but not the word. 
 
 Twas circle wide to us, but less 
 Than one small ring of tenderness 
 Which had no arc of bitterness. 
 
 All was encompassed by that ring 
 
 Of youthful love; its power could fling 
 
 Unreason into sentient thing. 
 
 You put the pink shell to my ear, 
 And, pausing, asked me, " Do you hear 
 These ocean whisperings soft and clear?" 
 
 "Love first," was murmured in the shell, 
 "Without it, death, the end, may well 
 Come knocking at your mortal cell. 
 
 " Love is the essence of the whole ; 
 Love gave to man his living soul, 
 Guides, leads, directs as ages roll. 
 
 " Love is the mould of all your clay, 
 And, out of chaos, in one day 
 Draws Psyche from the far away. 
 
 " Life hears the call, more quick obeys, 
 And runs its current through the maze 
 Of roads and paths and winding ways. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 29 
 
 "Aye, love is God; love could alone 
 Come from its higher, highest throne 
 With bounteous proffer to atone 
 
 " For all the sin that hate has wrought, 
 For selfish longing bringing naught 
 But evil actions from the thought. 
 
 u And God is love; he sent love here 
 To aid, to strengthen, and to cheer; 
 To make himself to us more dear. 
 
 " First love thy God, he first loved thee, 
 Then life will swift within thee be, 
 And sweeten thy eternity. 
 
 "Get love for love, and life for life; 
 Gladness for sorrow, peace for strife; 
 Rest after janglings loud and rife. 
 
 " Love thou thy neighbor God obey 
 Though yet he hate thee, love alway; 
 Love turneth even hate away. 
 
 " And she who loves thee love her well, 
 For such is love its broken spell 
 Has in it all the pangs of hell." 
 
 Then ceased the voice within the shell, 
 And I remember, as the moon went down, 
 Its crescent dipping in the ocean blue, 
 
 I asked the meaning of the voice, but you 
 
 Were lost in thought, and answered with a frown, 
 
 A sentence long of silence, looking down. 
 
30 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 TWO CITIES. 
 
 HERE shall I rest, upon this grassy knoll, 
 Where, lying prone so far below, the great 
 And noisy city stretches into view, 
 Keeping along the mighty river s edge 
 Like clinging child unto its mother s side; 
 Wherein are living men and moving things 
 That crowd and jostle forth from day to day, 
 Among the turrets, towers, and spires, which throw 
 Their heavy shadows on the surging tide. 
 
 Fit place to rest, for nearer yet to me 
 Lies now a city of the dead. Its streets 
 Run here and there by habitations dark; 
 By dim mausoleum, with marbled front, 
 And sculptured tombs of brass and onyx stone; 
 By monuments whose tall tops, rising, lift 
 Their heads above the trees, and glisten there. 
 No voice is heard; the dead speak not to us 
 Who wear a flimsy, changing garb. But through 
 The clear air of this mild September day, 
 The sound of voices falls upon my ear, 
 Voices of mourners who have come to lay 
 Within its prison place, a dear, cold form; 
 And through the broken sobs, I hear the noise 
 Of falling earth upon the coffin thrown, 
 As slowly back the sad procession moves 
 Down to the lower city whence it came. 
 
 Oh ! strange, that side by side these cities be, 
 One near the river s edge, the other high 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 31 
 
 Above it, on the reaching mountain-top; 
 
 One full of living sights and sounds, and fraught 
 
 With what concerns these beating hearts of ours; 
 
 Labor and waiting, love and hate and joy; 
 
 Sin, sorrow, pain and longing; deep desire 
 
 For things we may not have: the other, still 
 
 And silent, holding but the shapes of men 
 
 Who neither wait nor work, nor love nor hate, 
 
 But lie as cold and motionless as are 
 
 The pulseless stones that mark their resting-place. 
 
 Oh! it is strange and wonderful to see 
 
 The hastening, anxious throngs of men which pass 
 
 Along that city s street, yet stranger far 
 
 To stand among the speechless slabs, and know 
 
 That thousands rest the re dead and dumb, who ne er 
 
 Will speak again betwixt the earth and sky, 
 
 Lord, soldier, martyr, peasant, priest, and sage, 
 
 Mother and father, lover, wife and child, 
 
 Past all expression, pain or joy, and safe 
 
 In awful rest within trie city s walls. 
 
 So thus the days go by, and one by one 
 From out the city of the living, comes 
 Some weary traveler to his resting stone. 
 But none goes back. The city of the dead 
 Will not refuse a home to anyone 
 Who seeks it there, but he may not return, 
 Nor speak, nor sigh, nor tell why he remains 
 So long in exile. While between the two 
 I sit and muse, as twilight falls on both 
 These cities of the living and the dead, 
 
32 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 How can I tell in which most mystery lies, 
 Or whether it be best to quietly sleep 
 Under some humble mound, or battle on 
 Still longer for a breathing-place with men. 
 
 Whether or not it be, I know that I 
 Must leave the living, some day, for the dead; 
 Pass from one city to the other, up 
 Perhaps unto some mountain-top, perhaps 
 Down in some valley, to my endless rest. 
 So, as the shadows cluster darkly down 
 O er grave-stone, mound, and winding path, 
 I nearer feel to these mysterious things 
 Than to the twinkling city far beneath. 
 Mt. Royal Cemetery, 1882. 
 
 PECCAVI. 
 
 " PECCAVI," cried she, as she fell 
 Down on the pavement of her cell; 
 
 "Peccavi," and the piteous sound 
 Rang through the corridors around. 
 
 "Thou God, my guardian, draw a-nigh, 
 If not, Great Spirit, let me die; 
 Thou knowest all, and unto thee 
 I look for aid. Oh, comfort me!" 
 
 A Vestal was she once, but now 
 Her pledge is broken, and her vow. 
 Down in the awful, dismal tomb 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 33 
 
 She, living, goes to meet her doom. 
 Cold from the wall the water rains, 
 The warm blood curdles in her veins. 
 
 "O holy Spirit!" hear her cry, 
 
 "Bid light come in or let me die. 
 
 11 1 never let the fires go out 
 Upon the altars ; and about 
 My duties e er I faithful was. 
 I did obey the vestal laws 
 In all save this : One lonely day 
 A kind and dear one came my way; 
 Long had we loved, and, oh! so well, 
 But, Guardian, need I further tell? 
 
 " He pressed me hard, I told him no, 
 T would bring us only pain and woe, 
 
 Though by no choice of mine I took 
 
 The vows of chastity ; one book 
 
 Of many virgins held my name, 
 
 And marriage now were wrong and shame. 
 Depart/ I cried; O dear one, go; 
 
 Thou wouldst not ask>if thou didst know. 
 
 " Alas ! he would not turn away, 
 Alas! I could not tell him nay. 
 His outstretched arm, his deep blue eyes, 
 Made beautiful by sad surprise, 
 O ercame my longing, loving heart, 
 And made the fatal tear-drops start. 
 The hour of weakness came, and I 
 Gave what my heart could not deny. 
 
34 VERSES EROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "Father of Heaven, was this wrong 
 In thy great sight, when all along 
 I loved him more than lip would tell, 
 More than ascetic vows could quell? 
 Thou who art just, oh, judge, I pray 
 In thine own tender, holy way 
 Of this my sin, not his, my God, 
 And help me bear thy chastening rod! 
 
 " If tis thy righteous will that I 
 Should in this dreadful dungeon die ; 
 If I deserve such punishment, 
 And none forgive and none relent, 
 O Jove, my Father, let me feel 
 Sweet peace within me gently steal; 
 Comfort my heart in this dark hour, 
 And guard me from its awful pow r." 
 Ne er came the maiden from her grave; 
 Gods that she worshipped could not save. 
 Her lamp burned low; her food was gone; 
 The light of day came not at dawn; 
 And as she prayed, One whom we know 
 Looked on his stricken child below, 
 And calmed the heavings of her breast, 
 With peace from His eternal rest. 
 
 RELEASE. 
 I. 
 
 BEHIND the bars, caged in, a birdling sang 
 A sorrowing, plaintive song; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 35 
 
 "Freedom," the words in quavers rang, 
 "Denied to me is wrong. 
 
 How much, how very much I long 
 
 To use these idle wings and fly 
 
 Into that broad and open sky ! 
 
 " The world without me lies so fresh and fair, 
 So wonderfully grand; 
 Its flowers and trees and fragrant air, 
 Its stretching miles of land 
 A gift to all from God s own hand 
 While in my small, small cage I fret 
 And sing for what I cannot get. 
 
 "Why keep me so? Because I have a voice? 
 Because my notes are clear? 
 For sing I must I have no choice; 
 Though I should glad my jailer s ear, 
 And make her care to keep me here, 
 Through every note I breathe a sigh, 
 And all my song is all a cry." 
 
 Now swiftly to the pavement stone 
 The cage fell down; its bird had flown; 
 And, soaring toward the heavenly blue, 
 It sang a carol as it flew, 
 Nor saw not on the pavement there 
 Its jailer with her golden hair, 
 Her trembling lip and tearful eye, 
 Sob for her pet with piteous cry: 
 "Oh, darling bird, come back to me 
 Come, my own little birdie be!" 
 
36 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 II. 
 
 Within its bars, caged in, a sad soul lay, 
 
 Crying a rending song, 
 
 Bearing its pain from day to day, 
 
 Through months and years along, 
 
 Yet never noticed by a throng 
 
 Of dearest friends to sob or sigh, 
 
 But softly sing as days went by. 
 
 Tho to One ear the song seemed full of pain, 
 
 A symphony of grief 
 
 Sweet, calm, and low in every strain, 
 
 Yet asking, praying for relief 
 
 Of Him who makes life long or brief, 
 
 With words and tears: "O Father, God, 
 
 No longer chasten with thy rod. 
 
 "Beyond me lies that wondrous, wide expanse, 
 So great, so far, so high; 
 For it my bosom throbs and pants, 
 I would within its pastures lie 
 Oh, let me thither, thither fly ! 
 Saviour, I would but view thy face 
 And leave this narrow, prison place." 
 
 Now from two bright eyes, just at eve, 
 The light went out. Two hands did leave 
 Their tasks, and fall so cold and still- 
 Dead servants to an absent will. 
 Up into Heaven, past heavenly blue, 
 The spirit gladly, quickly flew, 
 Nor heard there, bending o er her clay, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 37 
 
 An agonizing husband pray: 
 " Oh, darling, do not, do not go !- 
 Without thee all of life is woe." 
 
 GOD RULES 
 
 LET the earth roll 
 
 And turn upon its axis round and round; 
 Swing through the awful sea of space, 
 Where neither height, nor breadth, nor depth is found; 
 . God rules, above, around ! 
 
 Darken the sky, 
 
 From north to south in banks of blackness, send 
 Live, livid, flashing tongues of lightning out; 
 Crash peals of thunder on from end to end; 
 
 God rules and will defend! 
 
 Toss up the sea, 
 
 Into a hundred horrid heavings dark, 
 Which groan back to uncaverned depths beneath, 
 Yet from above, beyond, far heavens arc, 
 
 God rules and guides the bark ! 
 
 Let anger rise 
 
 Within the heart of man, and words of gall 
 Burn out their way between his whitened lips; 
 Let friends betray, or whatsoe er befall, 
 
 God rules, and loveth all. 
 
38 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 MNEMOSYNE. 
 
 STRETCHING myself upon a bed 
 Of beaten sand and withered moss, 
 
 I lay full length and watched the red 
 Sun send its rays the waves across. 
 
 A charm I held within my palm, 
 And clasped it tightly, as a dream 
 
 With various fancies, fair and calm, 
 
 Did soon my wandering thoughts redeem. 
 
 More weary grew I, till there came 
 Entrancing rhapsodies of sleep, 
 
 To whisper sweet things in the name 
 Of her whose love was mine to keep. 
 
 "Come," said fair Iris, "take my hand; 
 
 I know thy great desire must be 
 To view some islets in the Land 
 Unbounded by a boundless sea. 
 
 " I know thy haunts, and everyone 
 
 Has seen my arch prismatic glow, 
 When, at the rising of the sun, 
 Light fell upon the mists below; 
 
 " Or when the moon rose, pale and fair, 
 
 Up from her mystic hiding-place. 
 And gave the rain-drops in the air 
 The color of her cheerful face. 
 
 "Be hopeful thou, and follow me; 
 If thou wilt but my wish fulfill, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 39 
 
 Sweet Memory s handmaid into thee 
 Shall all her wealth of charm instill. 
 
 "I heard thy wishes, and thy maid, 
 Oft have I seen her as she lay, 
 Her locks disheveled, not afraid 
 
 To let my moon-beams round her play, 
 
 " Disclosing beauty that would fill 
 
 Thy soul with trembling, strange delight, 
 And give thee thoughts to throb and thrill 
 Thy pulses swift from morn till night. 
 
 "Come thro this vale of twenty years, 
 
 Grown up with weeds and bramble vine. 
 And view the scene which now appears ; 
 Note every shade and every line. 
 
 "There, on a grassy slope, and near 
 
 A row of nonage cherry trees, 
 Some childish forms are seen ; they rear 
 A hamlet fit for chickadees. 
 
 " With anxious look they scheme and plan, 
 
 To make their home the very best ; 
 A house they call it, and again 
 
 Add something to the growing nest. 
 
 " Tis made of broken bough and limb, 
 
 With blossoms hanging down between, 
 Through which the sunlight pierces dim, 
 Resisted by a roof of green. 
 
 "Scan well their faces his and hers; 
 List to their laughing, happy play ; 
 
40 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 See how he bids how she demurs, 
 But how he always has his way. 
 
 " Their task is done, and so they sit, 
 
 And talk in quite a serious way; 
 
 Speak often with a wholesome wit, 
 
 Not found in those whose heads are gray. 
 
 " Thou rt looking at her auburn hair, 
 
 And at her dark and lustrous eyes, 
 Low saying she, so sweet and fair 
 I know it well : thy look belies. 
 
 "But follow me another way 
 
 Into this woody, winding path, 
 Where scarce the light of brightest day 
 Can touch the lusty aftermath. 
 
 "Rememberest thou the pretty walk, 
 
 The grand old trees which met above, 
 Whose leafy branches seemed to talk, 
 And sometimes whisper, of their love ; 
 
 "And where, beneath a rugged tree, 
 Of many limbs and fruitful yield, 
 Upon the soft grass list to me, 
 
 Thou hast in earnest tones appealed 
 
 "Once on a time thou but a youth, 
 And she more tender far in years, 
 To whom thou saidst enough, in truth, 
 To bring the blushes and the tears? 
 
 "Ah ! now I see upon thy cheek 
 
 The shadow of her burning blush. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 41 
 
 It must be so; thou dost not speak, 
 
 But whisperest strangely, Hush thee, hush. 
 
 So be it then, and now farewell, 
 
 Though thou hast seen but half my span, 
 
 Its farther limit reaches well 
 Beyond the ken of any man." 
 
 I starting woke, and found the sun 
 Had sunk behind a darkened sea ; 
 
 The wind blew cold ; a fog begun 
 To cast its dampness over me. 
 
 Out of my mind the fancies went, 
 Quick from my hand the trinket fell, 
 
 And as my homeward steps I bent, 
 I thought of things I cannot tell. 
 
 THE DYING YEAR. 
 
 IN the wide hearth the fire burned bright, 
 And cast about a shadowy light, 
 
 Fitful but cheery; 
 While close beside an old man sat 
 And watched the figures on the mat, 
 
 Until a-weary. 
 
 His locks were gray, and fell about 
 Shoulders now bent which once were stout, 
 And all his beard 
 
42 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Scrambled along his sunken chest, 
 And fell upon his faded vest, 
 In manner weird. 
 
 " I am an old man," and his breath 
 Had in it quavering notes of death, 
 
 Trembling, unsteady; 
 Yet spake he on : " My end draws near, 
 I see it in the embers here. 
 But I am ready. 
 
 " At midnight hour my knell shall come, 
 And life within be stricken dumb. 
 
 Hark! now I hear 
 
 The voice of him who, calling, speaks 
 In my deaf ear, and cries and shrieks, 
 
 Lo! I am here. 
 
 <" I am the new prince, get thee hence, 
 Thou wrinkled, old Experience, 
 
 Go to thy lot; 
 
 For I am king, if thou be seer, 
 And I will rule through all my year 
 In act and thought. 
 
 " I see down in the embers red 
 Pictures of scenes that now are fled, 
 
 Of days when I was young, 
 And sang so merrily, and laughed 
 As from my bowl I gaily quaffed 
 
 The wine by muses sung. 
 
 " Much have I done for all of you, 
 Much heard of sayings false and true, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 43 
 
 And oft, as well, 
 
 Brought life and death into one ring, 
 A theft and then an offering, 
 
 For so the embers tell. 
 
 "Rejoicings have I seen, and mirth 
 Attend the advent of a birth, 
 
 With laughing smile; 
 Then, ere the joy had spent its breath, 
 I saw the bloodless face of death 
 
 And funeral pile. 
 
 " So shall* it be when this new king 
 Is old as I, and everything 
 
 Leads on to swift decay; 
 When locks are white, and voice is low; 
 When life is but an empty show, 
 And youth has fTown away." 
 
 Now faint and fainter grew the light; 
 The embers darkened into night ; 
 
 No shadows fell; 
 Till, suddenly, a dying spark 
 Shot up the chimney, thro the dark, 
 
 While peal of bell 
 
 Cried out its notes at midnight hour, 
 Down from the turret of the tower, 
 
 Far, and around, 
 
 Pealing in joy, "Our prince is here;" 
 Tolling in grief, "Farewell, old year," 
 
 One echoing sound. 
 December, 1887-88. 
 
44 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 A MOTHER S LOVE 
 
 [A few months ago an execution took place in the town 
 of S., where I was staying. The unfortunate man was a 
 person about thirty years old, his only living relative being 
 his mother, then seventy years of age. After the sentence 
 of death had been passed, the old woman seemed almost 
 heart-broken, yet she prayed and entreated for pardon. She 
 obtained a number of names to her requisition it was pit 
 iful to see with what an eager joy she received each signa 
 ture -and sent her petition to the Governor. After this 
 the mother returned home some hundred miles distant, 
 without a doubt as to the success of her effort. But the 
 fatal day came with no pardon, and the widow s unfortunate 
 boy atoned for his dreadful crime. She came with bending, 
 tottering form alone, and returned alone, sacredly guarding 
 her precious charge with all the love of a mother s immacu 
 late devotion.] 
 
 NOT a sad brow in all the throng, 
 No mellowed voice, but cruel jeers, 
 There were to take the place of tears; 
 Death must requite the felon s wrong. 
 
 Ah ! these are brutes, not men, who stand 
 To wait and watch in jest and fun, 
 The trembling steps, the shame of one 
 Who now gives what his sins demand. 
 
 What still? can man give more than all, 
 Will life and breath not yet atone, 
 Could not the murderer die alone 
 And leave the wormwood and the gall? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 45 
 
 No ; he must take the bitter cup, 
 Stand and be firm before that gaze; 
 He faltering stands, but see! he prays 
 For strength to drink the poison up! 
 
 And now the hangman s work is done, 
 His pulseless victim lies all white, 
 His eyelids quivering in the light, 
 His fingers purpling in the sun. 
 
 No pity! not a one to sigh! 
 
 Does no heart Borrow o er this pall, 
 
 This retribution of a fall? 
 
 Is it then nothing thus to die? 
 
 Yes, one alone weeps; hear her cry, 
 Full, full of anguish and of woe. 
 Has ever woman suffered so, 
 Since God of mercy ruled on high? 
 
 Alone the feeble mother stands 
 Beside the body of her boy, 
 He who was once her love and joy, 
 To close his eyes and fold his hands. 
 
 Her head bends low, the tears fall fast, 
 Her wrinkled hands clasp his again, 
 And in the anguish of her pain 
 She falls insensible at last. 
 
 Poor mother, now thy boy is dead, 
 His guardian must thou be in death, 
 As when he drew his infant breath, 
 And from thy willing bounty fed. 
 
46 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And that which kept him in his youth, 
 And sang him often into sleep; 
 That often did his vigils keep, 
 Was love which must prevail, like truth. 
 
 No common love can such love be, 
 For with it can no love compare; 
 It is than precious jems more rare, 
 And yet tis boundless as the sea. 
 
 A mother s love who has not known 
 The beauty of its holy light, 
 That shines alike by day or night, 
 With gaining strength though older grown. 
 San Francisco, February, 1885. 
 
 PSYCHE. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHAT soul is this that has come down to our earth to-day, 
 Perfect, immortal, unchanging, changeless forever? 
 
 How came it thence and thus from its home so far away, 
 Where beginning ne er was and ending is never? 
 
 Why, coming down, must it serve and obey like a slave, 
 Be what a casket, perishing, imperfect, would make it? 
 
 Tossing twixt fear and pain; pressed like the wave 
 When the wind and the storm in fury o ertake it. 
 
 Taken from high estates unto a low one; held 
 
 Prisoner within the dank walls of dust, earth, and clay ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 47 
 
 Wonder tis not our spirits have cried, have rebelled, 
 
 Have shouted and shrieked for some light of the hidden day. 
 
 Buried and dungeoned in cavern and cave, in the dark, 
 Indiscerptible souls are in this discerptible dust; 
 
 An essence of purity, goodness, and truth near the stark 
 Naked forms, shameless postures of lies, hate and lust. 
 
 Idiots, insane, sick, the deformed, helpless and maimed, 
 
 Given for slave what is higher than angels in Heaven ; 
 Used and reused for things that can never be named ; 
 
 Used and reused for the devil seven days out of seven. 
 
 II. 
 To the soul belong joy, faith, peace, goodness, and love, 
 
 Temperance, meekness and charity, deep hatred of strife, 
 For coming from Him, it is His, and like Him above 
 
 Why should it, why should it be, a part of such life? 
 
 III. 
 In the arm, and the hand, and the eye, and the ear, and the 
 
 tongue, 
 Sin lives, and flows thro the veins, and quivers the nerves 
 
 along, 
 Though it shine and glitter like the stones it was written 
 
 there hung 
 
 In some goblin s cave, it is crime it is shame it is 
 wrong. 
 
 For the works of the flesh are hatred, revenge, and ill, 
 Idolatry, selfishness, revilings, and envy and wrath, 
 
 Emulations, drunkenness, seditions, a murderous will; 
 These are the thorns of flesh, these are the thorns the 
 soul hath. 
 
48 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And the only joy of the soul is the day of our death, 
 
 When this burden of clay shall fall ; when the soul may fly 
 
 On the wings of a never-returning breath, 
 
 To its home, where is nothing that maketh a lie. 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 To DR. S. 
 
 AH, yes! silence is eloquent, and tells 
 To you and me of things we cannot say 
 Jn the poor language of this shallow world. 
 As when the day of parting comes, and I 
 Clasp all your hand in mine, and, in your eye, 
 Look to the deepening depths of your great soul, 
 Seeing there more than all our pens could write 
 On all the paper made, or to be made. 
 
 As when the lover gazeth upon her 
 
 Who rests her head upon his throbbing heart, 
 
 And gazeth silently, yet speaketh not. 
 
 Silence is language of the soul, and speaks 
 
 Ne er so a third can he ar, nor does it sound 
 
 Through air, or to the ear of any man. 
 
 It comes as light comes to the mountain-top, 
 
 Or as those shadows, falling on its side, 
 
 Is, yet is not, like space which holds our worlds; 
 
 Is nothing of itself, and has no form, 
 
 No bulk, no magnitude, nor anything. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 49 
 
 When, after all the peals of music deep, 
 Which issued from the organ loft, there comes 
 An end, you still can hear, so low and sweet, 
 Within your soul the same notes o er again, 
 With variation added, and you know 
 That silence is the mother of the strain. 
 
 In the great aisle of some cathedral dark, 
 When night has come and not a soul is near, 
 Listen you well to silence, which shall speak 
 Unto your heart as never spake there man. 
 Or, move out to the graves that lie as still 
 As children sleeping when the day has fled. 
 Sit down awhile and catch the thrill that runs, 
 Like some electric current, to your soul, 
 Bringing you thought on thought, until your mind 
 Flows over, and you break the magic spell, 
 By breaking silence in some uttered word. 
 
 What made the harps that weary wanderers hung 
 
 Up, on the willows, in the olden time 
 
 By Babylonian rivers, yet convey 
 
 More thrilling notes, and deeper music far 
 
 Than when their many strings were fingered o er 
 
 And strung ? Or why should all the world, and you, 
 
 Not hear Tiara s harp till silence struck 
 
 Her trembling fingers on its every cord? 
 
 Who cannot shake the air with words and words 
 
 And cast them in your ear ? But gods have oft 
 
 Not able been to even guard their lips 
 
 From speaking into death their dearest hope 
 
 And wish. So thus the brooklet babbles on, 
 
 0? THB 
 
 tHTIVERSITT 1 
 ft 
 
50 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And tells a shallow tale to every man, 
 While on the noble river deepening flows, 
 And silent is. No man shall know how deep 
 The river runs, until he come and see. 
 
 And now thought to the outward ear speaks not, 
 
 Though thought is father of the universe, 
 
 Sea, air, sky, rocks, and earth but children are 
 
 Of this great silent Thought that speaks to you 
 
 Alone, or me alone, but never speaks 
 
 So you and I can learn at once the word. 
 
 And what are words to thought? As moon to sun, 
 
 Night unto day, and hate to loving are. 
 
 Silence is like to faith, and words to works. 
 
 Both words and works but hint the wondrous power 
 
 Of faith and silence, for it hath been told 
 
 That silence is the language of the gods. 
 
 THE CLOCK AND THE OWL. 
 
 ON two shelves in his office a banker once kept, 
 
 Cheek by jowl, 
 
 A clock and an owl. 
 
 The former for use and the latter for show, 
 
 A hollow pretence one, of feathers, you know; 
 
 An owl stuffed with sawdust, but looking as well 
 
 As though it were sleeping at noon in the dell. 
 
 Just as wise as a being can possibly look, 
 
 Who never wears glasses nor reads from a book. 
 
 But one night very late, when the bank lights were out, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 5 1 
 
 The owl called the clock a pestiferous lout, 
 A thing quite uncalled for, especially when 
 Polite to its partner the time-piece had been. 
 "Oh, when will you cease," sneered the owl with a mock, 
 "With your endless twaddle and tiresome talk; 
 Cease holding the minutes of every hour 
 Like some old gauge holds the drops of a shower. 
 What good is it all, I would like to know, 
 To measure out minutes just so and so ? 
 You stand on the shelf and all through the night 
 Your pendulum sways from left hand to right, 
 And your hands are held up to your sallow face, 
 Like a child that has fallen into disgrace. 
 Not often one deigns to hear what you say, 
 Tho sometimes tis done in a casual way; 
 But often I see, and oft have I heard, 
 That no one has taken or trusted your word. 
 As you point to the hour and strike it again, 
 They will look at their watches, both women and men." 
 
 "Sneer and talk all you will, 
 I shall tick on still, 
 Though you snap out more wrath from your crooked 
 
 bill 
 
 I am doing my duty, while you, ugly owl, 
 Have nothing to do but to grumble and growl, 
 And all through the day 
 Not a word will you say, 
 
 But make people think, with your large, open eyes, 
 You are learned and knowing and wondrously wise. 
 
 " I am plain, I confess it, my hands both are coarse, 
 
52 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And my voice very often is husky and hoarse. 
 Then, fearing my memory, I tick through the night, 
 So the hours of the day be kept proper and right, 
 For I never go wrong you may ask whom you will, 
 And this is the reason I never keep still. 
 
 "The busy consult me; the idle I warn 
 By showing how quickly the eve follows morn, 
 By counting each moment of time as it goes, 
 By telling it over, when everyone knows. 
 If I ticked only hours, the world would go by 
 Like a ship on the sea or a cloud in the sky, 
 And life would escape without thought or endeavor, 
 And minutes and seconds be lost us forever. 
 But now every second I call men to work, 
 With all of twice sixty less chances to shirk. 
 
 Come, come, so I call, and they haste to obey; 
 
 Come, come, every second I solemnly say, 
 Though, totals deceive us, the details will tell 
 Us fairly our standing, you know very well. 
 Our fortunes by dollars may quickly be told, 
 But by mills and by dimes will they greatly unfold. 
 
 "You sneer at my duties and think they are small, 
 Because you are idle, and have none at all, 
 But, sphinx-like, you stand on your pedestal shelf, 
 Puffed up and all ruffled with glorious self. 
 You are laid on the shelf in more senses than one; 
 If you ever were useful, your mission is done. 
 
 "When the banker comes down in the morning, he looks 
 At my face just a second, then takes out his books, 
 For at seven precisely my orders I get, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 53 
 
 And never one order I shirk or forget. 
 
 If you think I am useless keep awake for one day, 
 
 And see how they watch me and hear what I say. 
 
 At six one consults me and sweeps off the floor; 
 
 At ten one consults me, then opens each door; 
 
 So they quiz me and ask me what hour, all the day, 
 
 And the answer I give them they never gainsay." 
 
 "Oh ! you are for labor," the sage owl replied, 
 And puffed up his feathers in anger and pride; 
 
 "No gentleman, truly, I have at my side. 
 I knew by your talk you belonged to the rabble. 
 I pity you now but continue your babble ; 
 Pay no notice to me, yes, talk when I talk, 
 You miserable, garrulous, plebian clock. 
 Though they quiz you and hear you, oh! do not believe 
 Their questions you answer or their minds you relieve, 
 For each question they ask you, they give me a wink, 
 As much as to say, Now what do you think, 
 He s a babbling old fool and he never keeps still, 
 But let him go on while there s gold in the till ; 
 You are Capital, friend, that fellow is Labor, 
 We are catering now for his vote, O my neighbor. 
 
 " So what are you here beside me, little clock, 
 Though you think you are much, and chatter and talk? 
 They respect me and fear me, but you they can use; 
 If me they neglect, you they often abuse; 
 In this bank I for money, you for labor do stand, 
 I for dollars and cents, you for muscle and hand. 
 
54 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 But I ll lose no more wit on you ticking old thing, 
 I am tempted to push you plumb off with my wing, 
 I can do it so quickly and well if I like 
 There ! you re wheezing and rattling and off on a strike." 
 
 " I would rather be something than stand for a billion; 
 
 You are poor, boastful owl, though your master has 
 million. 
 
 What are being and doing to having, I wonder, 
 
 As fire is to smoke, or as lightning to thunder ! 
 Time is money, we say, yet you scorn time and labor; 
 
 Beware of your sawdust and feathers, O neighbor!" 
 
 "More room do I want," said the banker one day; 
 
 " I must move this old owl or our timepiece away, 
 The owl we can spare, but we cannot the clock." 
 So they took down the owl with its shelf and its block, 
 And put them away in the vault with the money, 
 Up high in the corner, oh! wasn t it funny? 
 
 THE THRONG. 
 
 IN a strange city, 
 
 With no one to greet you, 
 No one to love, 
 
 Though many to meet you, 
 Hurrying and rushing, the crowd moves along, 
 An anxious, a busy, a marvelous throng. 
 
 No one to look down 
 In sympathy cheering, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 55 
 
 No one to give 
 
 You a word of endearing, 
 
 Though you be starving to love and be cherished, 
 Seem heart and love among men to have perished. 
 
 See there a sweet face, 
 
 With eyes soft and tender! 
 Will not his crying 
 
 For pity unbend her? 
 
 Ah, no! she casts but a glance at his tatters, 
 Then turns away to less troublesome matters. 
 
 What is a beggar 
 
 Here, crying for pity ? 
 
 Hundreds are standing 
 
 All over the city, 
 
 Yet hurrying, rushing, the crowd moves along, 
 A selfish, a cruel, a passionless throng. 
 
 Suicides, murders, 
 
 Oh, terrible trifling, 
 How can I stay here, 
 
 The air is so stifling! 
 
 Come away, soul, from these scenes of disaster, 
 Come to the mountain and rest, like the Master. 
 San Francisco, CaL, November, 1885. 
 
 MY CHOICE. 
 
 WITHIN her soft, pink hand 
 She held a lily, pure and white. 
 
56 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Its pistils trembled at her heart s 
 
 Each joyous pulse-beat, quick and light. 
 Like babe asleep it lay so still, 
 Breathing, yet without breath or will. 
 
 She held it up to me, 
 
 The lily in her lily hand, 
 And of the two full well I knew 
 
 Which would my praises best demand. 
 I looked upon them both, and thought 
 Ne er fairer workmanship was wrought. 
 
 One liveth not but one 
 
 Is pink and warm, and can obey 
 
 The dictates of a higher will, 
 
 Though be it, like the flow r, of clay; 
 
 Much can it grant, and much express 
 
 Of love, or aid, or willingness. 
 
 "/ // take the get n away^ 
 
 Now spoke a voice reproachfully; 
 "I cannot hold it here for you 
 
 To simply gaze upon, nor say 
 What beauty has it in your eye, 
 So then, indifferent man, good-bye." 
 
 "Stay, my fair friend," I cried, 
 
 "Thought took all power of speech away, 
 I saw what was so beautiful, 
 
 More came to me than I could say; 
 I know the flower may pretty be, 
 But lovelier far the hand to me. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 57 
 
 "For seeing both, I thought 
 
 How much the hand more than the flower 
 Seems beautiful. Knowing how great, 
 
 In deeds of kindness, is its power; 
 How thro it all the current red 
 Flows from the heart and from the head." 
 
 The maid s cheek crimson grew, 
 
 She did not mean her hand, she said, 
 
 But what lay in its hollowed palm; 
 
 Then tossed aloft her haughty head : 
 "I meant the lily, not the hand; 
 
 How hard for men to understand!" 
 
 But obstinate I stood, 
 
 I would not understand at all, 
 Until the hand I firmly held 
 
 Her hand, so warm and soft and small, 
 Nor did I let it go till she 
 Had given it away to me. 
 
 SINCERITY. 
 
 IF you think so, say so, 
 
 Do; 
 I would rather twere said, 
 
 If true. 
 
 Tis better to take the rough thorn out, 
 Than to fret and whine and cry about 
 
 The pain which it gives to you. 
 
58 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 If tis a thought you hate, 
 
 Now, pray, 
 Treat it with scorn and scowl; 
 
 For we may 
 
 Sometimes have thoughts that we do not love, 
 Which come from below, and not above, 
 From night-time and not from day. 
 
 are but crows that fly 
 Along 
 Into our pure, white air. 
 
 Soon a song- 
 
 Bird may follow and sweetly sing, 
 And, dove-like, pass over the croaking thing, 
 As Right flies over Wrong. 
 
 Blame you I never would 
 
 No, 
 Not for a strayward thought, 
 
 For I know 
 
 There are thoughts that wander about for homes; 
 They are stalking shadows of ugly gnomes, 
 Which travel to and fro. 
 
 Bony and gaunt and thin, 
 
 Dead 
 To loving and peace and joy; 
 
 They are wed 
 
 By angry ghosts to the sprites of hell, 
 And their breed, how monstrous, I cannot tell, 
 By monsters bred. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 59 
 
 True thoughts are like the rain, 
 
 Fresh, 
 Down from the clouds of heav n. 
 
 Poor flesh 
 
 And blood have not many to spare 
 Some, sometimes, there are, but rare, rare, rare, 
 And mixed in a mixed-up mesh. 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 OF all the wicked sins that keep 
 
 Down in the sinful heart of man, 
 
 Of all the monsters of the deep, 
 
 Of all the horrid things that creep 
 
 In Ashantee or Hindostan, 
 
 None are so falsely, fiercely wild 
 
 As this Briareus-handed child, 
 
 This jealous wrath that sets the heart on fire, 
 
 And rakes the burning coals of base desire. 
 
 Truly tis said to be the sin 
 
 Of an ignoble, selfish mind, 
 
 That seeks no gentler grace to win, 
 
 But gladly lets the baser in 
 
 So it possessorship may find, 
 
60 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 While wholesome word and action die, 
 And all the holier promptings fly. 
 Thus jealous anger does its direful work 
 And stabs brave manhood with a subtile dirk. 
 
 Look through the records of the past, 
 
 Down through the history dark of Rome; 
 
 Think but a moment of the vast 
 
 Recorded crimes, like raging blast 
 
 That sweep before its Arching Dome! 
 
 To jealous spirit trace may we 
 
 Their murder, hate, and tyranny, 
 
 In ancient king or haughty autocrat, 
 
 Neath jeweled crown or laboring peasant s hat. 
 
 Through England s line of rulers vain, 
 Through all the deadly throes of France, 
 Through centuries that wax and wane 
 In sad degrees of strife and pain, 
 Through secret stab or open lance, 
 We see the shape of that dark face 
 Grin from its gloomy, dismal place, 
 Cast deep its lurid, burning gaze, and bring 
 All other shades to its own coloring. 
 
 When Juno jealous grew, she wrought 
 
 With other gods her jealous spite; 
 
 How to revenge she planned and thought, 
 
 Evil continually she brought 
 
 Nor ever after knew delight, 
 
 But, dwelling with the selfish elf, 
 
 Grew into bitterness itself. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 61 
 
 So anciently, when one had sinned, they sent 
 Waters of jealousy for punishment. 
 
 Twas this that filled the heart of Cain 
 
 With hate instead of tender love ; 
 
 That gave fire to his maddened brain ; 
 
 That bade him call aloud in vain 
 
 To God for blessings from above, 
 
 Till, ruled by jealousy, he killed 
 
 His brother Abel basely spilled 
 
 The life-blood of his kinsman to the ground, 
 
 And gained a heavy burden for the wound. 
 
 Busiris righteous was beside 
 
 A jealous spirit in the heart ; 
 
 For only evil twill betide, 
 
 Nor with it e er can good abide ; 
 
 It bids kind Charity depart, 
 
 And, like the tyrant, it will feed 
 
 Pure, tender feelings to its greed. 
 
 O man, beware, let not the tempter nigh; 
 
 Pray God he keep thee from its evil eye ! 
 
 A CAROL. 
 
 THE first sweet Christmas, when a Saviour s birth 
 Came, like the light of dawn, from heav n above, 
 
 Bringing good-will to men and peace to earth, 
 With blessed tidings of a Father s love, 
 
62 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Wise men from far came to the lowly bed 
 
 On which the King of Peace, uncrowned, lay; 
 
 Gave treasures rich, then, with uncovered head, 
 In rev rence bow d. and gave their hearts away. 
 
 And as night, dark ning o er the wide plains, fell, 
 Touch d every sloping foot-hill far and near, 
 
 While all was still, save when some tinkling bell 
 Rang its clear notes upon the shepherd s ear, 
 
 Light flash d in darkness: and a rushing sound 
 Of many voices, full and rich and strong, 
 
 Shook all the waves of air, fell to the ground, 
 And through the plains and valleys rolled along. 
 
 "Fear not," the angels sang, ; for there is born 
 
 Unto you all this day a Saviour King, 
 As to the darkness is the rising morn, 
 So unto you is He; arise and sing. 
 
 Then all the shepherds sang with mighty voice, 
 "A Saviour unto us is born, rejoice! rejoice! 
 And yet the music floated down again, 
 Yea, peace for earth is and good- will to men, 
 
 Rejoice, a Lord is born, rejoice, rejoice." 
 Yule Tide, 1886. 
 
 o 
 
 THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 
 
 UP and down, 
 High and low, 
 Broad and narrow, 
 Fast and slow, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 63 
 
 Plough and harrow, 
 Fade and blow. 
 Life and death, 
 First and last, 
 Beginning and end, 
 Present and past. 
 So they blend 
 And contrast. 
 Coming and going, 
 Reaping and sowing, 
 Laughing and crying 
 Living and dying; 
 All in one day, 
 Here, and away. 
 Shifting and shifting. 
 Drifting and drifting, 
 Onward we go; 
 In changes, forever, 
 We meet and we sever, 
 For gladness or woe. 
 
 TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 
 
 THE diamond is not found encas d with gold, 
 Nor are pearls hidden in a showy case; 
 
 Fortunes, we know, are buried in the mould, 
 And truths upheld in many an untow rd place. 
 
 Look, then, within; yes, far within 
 
 The outer mouldings of this clay, 
 There lives what will affection win, 
 
 The soul it is the heart, we say. 
 
64 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Tis hidden deep, perhaps, but thou 
 Mays t polish off the rough without; 
 
 Thy small, soft fingers well know how 
 To bring the much desired about. 
 
 EVENA. 
 
 "Qsys sfc &-a fW-v." 
 
 THEY do not flash, her eyes, 
 But they sparkle and shine, 
 
 Reflecting the kindly light 
 Of a soul divine; 
 
 I wish I have often wished 
 Their dark orbs were mine. 
 
 Mine to look into and 
 Mine, to have love express, 
 
 With, oh! such a wealth and power 
 Of deep tenderness; 
 
 With virtue to cheer, I know, 
 And comfort and bless. 
 
 Better than words they speak 
 Out what the heart would say, 
 
 Bidding me wait and hope 
 Till another day 
 
 When clouds which threaten low 
 Have all cleared away. 
 
 s\ 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 WE sow the seed, and we may reap 
 The harvest flower, 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
f "yv~ , i 
 
 IN OUR LAND 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 65 
 
 But God alone can watch and keep; 
 Lo! when our eyelids droop in sleep 
 He sends the shower. 
 
 IN OUR LAND. 
 
 BRIGHT days have we in our land so fair, 
 No frost ever breathes through the balmy air, 
 Snow and ice we chain to their mountain lair, 
 And sunshine is radiant everywhere. 
 And the skies are blue all over the land, 
 
 Over valley and hill ; 
 Beautiful blossoms on every hand 
 Open their treasures at our demand, 
 
 And the wafted air 
 
 Is freighted with odors sweet and rare, 
 Of laurel, acacia, jessamine, 
 Myrtle, marjoram, wild eglantine, 
 Lily and orange and lavender. 
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 
 
 (To JAMIE.) 
 
 AGAIN the sea of time reaches our shore 
 With its full tide of joy and cheer, 
 
 Bearing up to us ships of tokens more 
 The lasting trophies of a Christmas year. 
 
 5 
 
66 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And as, when waves roll back, there lie 
 Shells, mosses, stones, and coral rare, 
 
 For some to take, and by and by 
 Keep as mementoes sweet and fair, 
 
 So the full wave of Christmas-tide 
 Bears down upon us all to-day, 
 
 Bringing dear tokens to our side 
 For us to take and lay away, 
 
 To treasure in our hearts their worth, 
 Not for themselves but what they show, 
 
 Love for each other what on earth 
 Greater or better could we know? 
 
 It is not then for treasure rich 
 We ask now at this happy time, 
 
 But only words of sweet assurance, which 
 Are tokens of a love sublime, 
 
 Sublime because tis true and deep ; 
 
 Precious because tis pure, 
 Oh! such a love will surely keep 
 
 Our hearts and minds secure! 
 
 If the great sea would try to bring 
 A fitting token of its might, 
 
 The grandeur of its offering 
 Would startle not delight. 
 
 Mine then a token is, but small, 
 
 For our great love cannot a token find ; 
 
 To search one out would only pall, 
 And turn expression blind. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 67 
 
 The sun sends down a joyful gleam, 
 
 Why not be happy as the birds; 
 The skies are beautiful, and seem . 
 
 To speak for us the words : 
 
 " Good-will and peace to everyone, 
 Now not a single cloud have we 
 To mar the brightness of our sun 
 Come, let your loving hearts be free." 
 
 A merry Christmas then on this fair day, 
 And merrrier ones through coming years; 
 
 May gladsome cheer chase care away 
 And leave behind no place for tears. 
 
 And with this wish I pray that He 
 Who gave us what we have to give, 
 
 May fill our hearts with love so we 
 
 Shall praise His goodness while we live. 
 December 25 , 1886. 
 
 SUNNYSIDE. 
 
 IN dreams, both day and night, oft do I go 
 Back to thy paths, sweet Sunnyside, and see 
 Thy dear old haunts so fraught with memory 
 Of all now loved and sacred here below; 
 View thy fair form and hear the soft winds blow 
 Down through the bow rs where, oh! so often, we 
 As children played in loving harmony, 
 Brother and sister, nor did even know 
 The precious value of the passing joy 
 
68 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 That filled the hours which went from morn till eve, 
 And thinking less of cares that might annoy, 
 Or throbbing pain which tears may not relieve, 
 For weary thoughts could not our minds employ, 
 Till added years had taught our hearts to grieve. 
 
 FEAR NOT. 
 
 Do not borrow 
 From to-morrow 
 
 Grief and pain; 
 With the present 
 Though unpleasant 
 
 Cope again! 
 
 Storms may thunder, 
 And, far under, 
 
 Waters roll; 
 Still abiding, 
 God is guiding 
 
 Safe the soul! 
 
 LOOK UP. 
 
 ALL worldly glory is but vain, 
 
 Though charm it may the youthful heart. 
 Look up! if thou would st e er attain 
 
 True honor and a worthy part 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Seek higher things, the kingdom of our God, 
 
 And trust his holy will alway; 
 Follow in love the humble path he trod, 
 
 Which leads unto the everlasting Day. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 DEAR child, so pure, 
 
 I pray that ne er 
 
 The shadow of thy father s sin 
 
 Shall fall upon thy soul within! 
 
 He was not true, 
 
 And holy love 
 
 Touched not his heart with sacred fire; 
 
 His was the love of base desire, 
 
 Which, satisfied, 
 
 Kindled anew, 
 
 And left a broken-hearted maid 
 
 To bear the burdens he had laid. 
 
 He did not know, 
 
 Nor aught cared he, 
 
 Whether thine eyes would ever view 
 
 Earth s beauty or the skies of blue, 
 
 But wandered far 
 
 In distant lands, 
 
 Thoughtless of one to whom he gave 
 
 The wound that brought her to the grave. 
 
70 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 She did not die 
 
 With friends around 
 
 To comfort in the trying hour, 
 
 But died without a friend or flower, 
 
 One single flower 
 
 To cheer her way, 
 
 As through the awful vale of death 
 
 She went with faltering step and breath. 
 
 And when she lay 
 
 So dead and cold, 
 
 No gentle hand did kindly care 
 
 To smooth her locks of wavy hair, 
 
 But youth and age, 
 
 Maiden and sire, 
 
 Cast from their minds all thought of her 
 
 Whose only sin had been to err 
 
 In loving much 
 
 The heart of one 
 
 Whose hellish deed, I pray, may meet 
 
 Reward at God s own Judgment-seat! 
 
 Yet I am wrong, 
 
 Dear child, I know, 
 
 To rake these ashes of the past 
 
 And into present fair winds cast 
 
 Their blinding dust; 
 Without my prayer 
 A Nemesis will surely come 
 And strike the evil-doer dumb. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 71 
 
 My hope is then, 
 
 Sweet child, for thee; 
 
 God grant thee manhood pure and strong, 
 
 To bear the right and fight the wrong. 
 
 RECONCILIATION. 
 
 MY heart was tender, so I cried, 
 Speak out, O heart! through quivering lip; 
 Speak now before the moments slip; 
 Speak softly, gently, near her side, 
 And tell her twas in anger spoke, 
 The soul doth ask forgiveness now ; 
 Yea, haste ere thought all utterance choke, 
 Or on her young, untroubled brow 
 The marks of sorrow deeply plough." 
 
 And thus within my heart replied: 
 " I cannot beg forgiveness yet, 
 But could she come and ask me why 
 I said those words, I would reply, 
 And press these trembling lips to hers. 
 Confess my sin with tearful eye, 
 And earn forgiveness by and by. 
 I cannot ask, but, oh ! I pray 
 God grant me it this very day." 
 
 And as she wept, while scalding tears 
 Rolled down upon her feverish cheek, 
 These cruel lips refused to speak, 
 
72 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Which they had never done for years. 
 
 Then cried I out : " Do now with hand 
 
 Stretch out to her thy willing aid, 
 
 Encircle her as with a band, 
 
 Thatjshe may never be afraid; 
 
 Haste soon and cheer the grieving maid." 
 
 Then once again my heart replied : 
 "These hands are burning now to press 
 Heart unto heart. Against my own 
 To keep hers there until have flown 
 All cause for weeping and for tears. 
 Her sob is answered by a moan; 
 Oh! that I kinder words had known; 
 If she could lift one pleading hand 
 Mine both would answer her demand." 
 
 Implored I now : "Turn both those eyes 
 With loving glance into her own; 
 Show her that they have kindly grown 
 As after clouds the summer skies." 
 And turning such a flood of light, 
 Of love and soulful longing too, 
 As well would chase the darkest night 
 And let the rays of sunshine through, 
 Two dark eyes gazed into the blue. 
 
 And pride gave way to contrite tears, 
 And hand went out in manly aid, 
 And lip expressed in loving word 
 What was received and gladly heard. 
 In long embrace and pressure warm 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 73 
 
 Smothered was every trace of pain, 
 And well I know that winter storm 
 Can never toss our sea again. 
 
 BY THE CLOCK. 
 
 SIXTY seconds by the clock, 
 
 Sixty ticks and that is all, 
 
 Sixty only: as we talk 
 
 Down upon the garden walk 
 
 Shadows deep begin to fall. 
 
 Sixty minutes by the clock, 
 
 Made of pulse-beats quick and small, 
 
 But a dear soul takes its flight 
 
 Up from earth to realms of light, 
 
 While hot tears bedim our sight; 
 
 Death has come, and that is all. 
 
 Sixty long hours by the clock, 
 Sixty only, yet alone, 
 All alone, I sit and rock, 
 As the seconds laugh and mock 
 Every sigh and every moan. 
 Sixty days marked by the clock, 
 How my face has older grown, 
 Gray hairs with the brown ones lie; 
 Wrinkles deep and faded eye, 
 Plainer grow as days go by, 
 While the roses long have flown. 
 
 iu 
 
74 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "Sixty weeks of tearless grief, 
 Sixty weeks so sad and long, 
 Asking Heaven for relief, 
 Praying that my life be brief, 
 Yet resistless borne along. 
 Sixty months, the very chief 
 Of the chiefest, all along 
 When the heart learns, oh! how deep 
 Do the chords of sorrow keep, 
 Though the sounds of sorrow sleep, 
 Like sad notes of untouched song. 
 
 " Sixty years by seconds told, 
 
 Minutes, hours, and days as well, 
 f Weeks and months; now I am old, 
 Youth is silver, age is gold, 
 I will say, since poets tell. 
 Time in eighty years has rolled, 
 By clear strokes upon its bell, 
 All my youth and strength away, 
 Turned to snowy white the gray, 
 Breathed cold winter into May, 
 Warned me I must say farewell." 
 
 Sixty seconds by the clock, 
 Sixty seconds, that is all, 
 Once again the shadows stalk 
 Through the garden and the walk; 
 Now they tremble on a pall. 
 It has come again the shock 
 That to each must soon befall. 
 Though the clock ticks on the sill, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 75 
 
 Heart-throbs, pulse-beats now are still, 
 Throb and beat they never will- 
 Death has come, and that is all. 
 
 THE EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 Tis an ebb and a flow 
 
 Of the ocean wide, 
 
 Of the tireless tide. 
 
 It is coming and going the long hours through, 
 
 Rushing along in its beaten track, 
 
 Onward and upward and forward and back, 
 
 To its paths in the rocks and the sand, 
 
 Here and on every hand. 
 
 What it brings it will take away, 
 
 What it takes it will give again 
 
 Even as rain clouds give the rain 
 
 Seme day. 
 
 If we only knew, 
 
 And we all may know, 
 
 This life of ours is an ebb and a flow, 
 
 Of days and of years, 
 
 Of joy and of woe. 
 
 And, like the tide that breaks on the rocks 
 
 And throws in the air its briny spray, 
 
 Is the tide of our life which bears along 
 
 Toward the ragged rocks of ill and of wrong, 
 
 That cast through our years 
 
 Their spray of tears. 
 
76 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 By our Tide 
 Must we all abide; 
 What it brings it will take away 
 What it takes it will give again 
 All but the woe and the pain- 
 Some day. 
 Laguna Beach, August, 1886. 
 
 YOU. 
 
 IT is you and no one else 
 
 Who have taken my hope and my heart; 
 You know it not; perhaps if you knew 
 
 You would tremble and start. 
 
 Now you are thoughtless and young, 
 And you think not I do not forget; 
 
 What you told me once I have kept 
 And treasured, and hold it yet. 
 
 Are words of love nothing, that you 
 Should sound them in every ear? 
 
 Is it as well not to think what you say 
 As to speak and be sincere? 
 
 I would not die if you said 
 
 You loved another man better than me; 
 I would not break in my grief, 
 
 But bend, like the willow tree, 
 
 Then swing to my place again 
 After the storm had passed, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 77 
 
 For sorrow alone cannot kill a man, 
 Though it hold him fast. 
 
 But you told me not the truth, 
 
 For you uttered a pack of lies; 
 And all you said to me was as false 
 
 As the false light in your eyes. 
 
 You are the cause of my wandering 
 
 Out from the paths of right; 
 Pointing, you told me where to go^ 
 
 And I went down into night. 
 
 Then you kept me in the darkness, 
 
 Though I walked along till I fell 
 Headlong almost to the very gates 
 
 Of a deep abysmal hell. 
 
 "Do this for my love," you said, 
 
 And whatever you asked was done; 
 I would love all you love, and hate 
 Whatever you wished to shun. 
 
 Did I do right?. Ask your conscience, 
 
 I am not much in doubt; 
 Blind I was, blinder than Hecuba 
 
 After her eyes were out. 
 
 THE WISER PLAN. 
 
 BENEATH an oak a lazy croaker lay 
 Long after sunrise and the dawn of day, 
 
VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 To fret, to worry ; and to whine, 
 To find some fault with workmanship divine 
 "Why," said he glibly, "should there be 
 Pumpkins on vines, and acorns on a tree? 
 The vines are tender, while the trees are tougfT; 
 Acorns are small, but pumpkins large enough. 
 If God in trees had hung these pumpkins large, 
 And given to vines the lesser charge, 
 I m sure we all could then agree 
 That it a^wiser plan would be." 
 Just then from its high perch an acorn fell 
 Into the croaker s face and hit him well, 
 Which was reproof, and argument at once 
 Sufficient to convince the veriest dunce, 
 Though, through the mercy of God s wiser plan, 
 We were not spared the wit of such a man. 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 [To a little blue-eyed lassie who sits near me in church.] 
 
 PASSING strange these blue eyes are, 
 Shining like some merry star 
 
 In the sky! 
 
 Only more these two will say, 
 And in quite a different way, 
 Than those twinkling from the gray 
 
 By and by! 
 
 Eyes that would, yet may not, frown 
 If they try, can but look down 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 79 
 
 With a smile; 
 
 In whose depths, so sweet and pure, 
 Sleep expressions which I m sure 
 Will some day some heart allure 
 
 And beguile ! 
 
 Hide these eyes with fan or screen, 
 
 Snowy white or leafy green, * 
 
 For a while, 
 
 And you find that in a glance, 
 In a look that will entrance, 
 Stealing through by merest chance, 
 
 Comes the smile ! 
 
 THE RAIN. 
 
 FAR from the hill-tops there comes a sweet strain, 
 Louder it echoes now over the plain, 
 And through the valleys the sound thrills again : 
 : The rain, the rain." 
 
 Down on the hard, on the dry, scorching ground, 
 Patters the rain with a musical sound, 
 As from each flower a fair, trembling cup, 
 Begs of the rain to be quickly filled up. 
 
 Oh ! was there ever such mirth on the prairie, 
 Did one e er see so many so merry? 
 
 Trillions of blossoms are gladdening the air, 
 Sending their fragrance out everywhere, 
 
8o VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Tingeing the valley with red and with blue, 
 Such tints and colors the world never knew! 
 See! on the mountain the bluebells are ringing, 
 Larkspurs and poppies and daisies are singing, 
 And the whole plain is stirred in commotion 
 Like that which stirs the depth of the ocean. 
 
 List ! all the flowers ecstatic are crying, 
 Shouting and dancing, their gay colors flying, 
 Well may old Chronos now wonder what mirth 
 Could thus have taken possession of earth. 
 "Be merry, dear comrades," the trillions flowers sing; 
 Long live our kind master, and long be he king; 
 So fill up your cups, be they blue, red, or yellow, 
 And drink to the health of a jolly good fellow." 
 
 Not a bud but was drunk with the rain, 
 Not a cup but would fill up again, 
 Not a frond but would join the refrain. 
 
 "I thank thee, O Lord! I have not come in vain," 
 Sang the rain. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [On seeing the night-blooming cereus open in church on Easter 
 night.] 
 
 AND without sun or light, just at the hour 
 When darkness reigns supreme in ev ry place, 
 Slowly unfold, with ever changeless grace, 
 The waxen petals of a snowy flow r, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 81 
 
 Which, softly stealing from their mystic bow r, 
 Ope, all unbidden by that cheerful face 
 Whose smile and glance become the royal mace 
 That gives to pregnant buds the magic pow r. 
 Like to this flower came One from high above 
 When all was dark, down to our earth below, 
 Unfolding one by one His acts divine, 
 And showing us the beauty of that love 
 Which our cold hearts ask d not, yet now may know 
 And prove the wisdom of God s great design. 
 
 CLOUDS. 
 
 TOSSED are the clouds in the sky, 
 Hurried and pushed by the wind; 
 
 So are the strange doubts that fly 
 Into my wondering mind. 
 
 Shadows do fall from the clouds 
 
 Down to the valley below; 
 As from my doubts, ghostly shrouds 
 
 Of sadness forever flow. 
 
 They fall o er a longing life, 
 Casting a shadow and gloom, 
 
 Telling of sorrow and strife, 
 And giving no sunlight room. 
 
 Will these, like clouds in the sky, 
 
 Which bring us sweet showers of rain, 
 
 Refresh us, and by and by 
 
 Send sunshine and warmth again? 
 6 
 
82 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 CARELESS WORDS. 
 
 IN careless mood I shot a bird 
 
 And broke its tender little wing; 
 It fell from the great tree; I heard 
 
 A cry escape the fluttering thing; 
 And such a plaintive cry it gave, 
 
 So full of meaning and of pain, 
 I would have given all to save 
 
 That bird from harm again. 
 So oft our words, without a thought 
 
 Of the deep woe they may convey, 
 Are careless spoken, to be caught 
 
 And hidden in some heart away. 
 No cry may fall upon our ear, 
 
 Of the great sorrow that they bring; 
 We do not often see the tear 
 
 When we ourselves feel not the sting. 
 But such words missiles are, and keen 
 
 To sink into the heart of some dear child, 
 And there, with cruel power unseen, 
 
 Work out their mission, fierce and wild: 
 For what is the heart but a tender thing, 
 As easily crushed as a birdling s wing! 
 o 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE ILIA OF 
 AN OLD SKELETON. 
 
 COME ! grinning maiden, let us be 
 More cheery on this stormy e en, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 83 
 
 Stand by the light, where I can see 
 
 Your socket eyes and visage lean; 
 Loll not with such a drooping air, 
 For surely you are free from care 
 And have no scruples, at this day, 
 But which should all be cast away ! 
 Play not the prude to-night with one 
 Who bleached your long bones in the sun. 
 
 When soft flesh covered all these bones, 
 
 I heard, and know it very well, 
 Your name was Mary Ellen Jones, 
 
 And you were quite a lively belle; 
 You drank a little, to be sure 
 Some whisky punches taken pure 
 And sometimes in a fight you found 
 Your nasal beaten hard and sound, 
 And once or twice you had to bear 
 The pulling of your flaxen hair. 
 
 Chicago was your home : ah, well, 
 
 That may explain your wayward life, 
 And how, at length, you sadly fell 
 
 Into a constant round of strife. 
 You broke your radius one night 
 In a disreputable fight, 
 Which caused me once to really make 
 It looked so odd a sad mistake: 
 I thought twas natural, and lo ! 
 In my report described it so. 
 
 I do not know, but I have heard, 
 
 You worked your jaw-bone swift and sure 
 
84 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 In billingsgate and evil word ; 
 
 For you were not an epicure. 
 But though the motion s gone, I see, 
 This bone once moved most rapidly, 
 When angry would you snap those teeth 
 Like sword within its scabbard sheath, 
 Bend up your phalanges, and swing 
 Your humerus like some flapping wing. 
 
 Oft did your metatarsals err 
 
 And take you where you should not go 
 And, from appearance, I infer . 
 
 You often stubbed your leading toe. 
 One clavicle is cleft in twain 
 And never can be used again, 
 While all the larger bumps you own 
 Would phrenologically atone 
 For many sins that you have done, 
 My cold and dismal skeleton! 
 
 You had a lover once who paid 
 
 You kind attentions for a year, 
 But, like a cruel, heartless maid, 
 
 You dropped him off without a tear; 
 Yea, without warning word, or fuss, 
 Sank all his hope in Erebus. 
 Ah! do I see you laugh, and hear 
 Those dry bones rattle in my ear, 
 Ribs, shafts, phalanges, jaws, and all, 
 Like wind-blown branches in the fall? 
 
 Then I have stirred at last your soul, 
 Old maid, so gaunt and tall and thin; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 8$ 
 
 Come, help me quaff my student bowl 
 
 And drink its inspiration in ! 
 For I am weary all alone 
 Conning these leaves on flesh and bone ; 
 A word or two of present aid 
 Would help me on, O bony maid! 
 So clasp my hand, and tell me o er 
 Tales from the dark Cerberian shore! 
 
 TO GRIEF. 
 
 COME, grief, why need st thou have a fear? 
 Know thou art not a stranger here. 
 My heart and thee in sad embrace 
 Too oft have shown each other grace, 
 And parents been to sob and tear. 
 
 For we are wedded: grief and I 
 
 Shall not be severed till we die, 
 
 Though sighs and sobs and sometimes tears 
 
 May be our offspring, as the years 
 
 Of weary waiting shall go by. 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 [Written on the back of an envelope addressed to the author, in Mr. 
 Longfellow s handwriting.] 
 
 THINE own dear hand did write 
 These letters each, and all, 
 
86 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Forming my name upon the white 
 With rise and fall. 
 
 And, as I look, I seem to see 
 Thee sit beside thy writing board; 
 Take out, where many more were stored, 
 A parchment, and to me 
 
 Give up a moment that might be 
 Spent writing, for eternity 
 Some word of sweetest song. 
 
 But no! to me belong 
 
 The pen and hand and moment too, 
 As light thy fair hand glides along, 
 
 Then stays to cross the letters through; 
 Seal envelope and lay it down 
 Upon thy study desk of brown. 
 I wonder if thou gavest a thought 
 
 To me thou ne er hadst seen, 
 Whose name to thee by chance was brought 
 
 By written go-between? 
 And if thou saidst upon thy lip 
 
 My name, as it would sound in air, 
 Lest thou shouldst let a letter slip 
 
 Or seem to want a care ? 
 
 I do not know; but this I know, 
 I love thee, poet, and thy song; 
 Much comfort has each brought to me, 
 In days of sad uncertainty, 
 Through all these years along. 
 I love thy music more and more, 
 As to my soul the chords sound o er; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 87 
 
 Nor can I tell thee what I feel 
 When through my soul they softly steal, 
 But, oh ! I would that thou couldst know 
 What grateful feelings outward flow. 
 
 MONEY. 
 
 MONEY is less than the least of all things 
 
 Left to Adam before or after his fall; 
 
 But a crumb from the sumptuous feast 
 
 Of blessings God-given to all; 
 
 Of possessions the smallest of small. 
 
 Fit to be used in a proper way, 
 
 Honestly, carefully, well : 
 
 Made a good servant, but never a lord 
 
 Unto the heart or the lip or the hand. 
 
 Else may it sear with its burning brand. 
 
 What can it buy? for in keeping tis worthless, 
 Worse to be kept than the dust of the street 
 Never a home nor a friend nor a lover; 
 Honor nor talent nor wisdom nor life. 
 What can it buy for the heart that is precious 
 Comfort in sorrow or rest for the weary ? 
 Nothing but houses and vanishing pleasures ; 
 Nothing but things we must leave as we go; 
 Nothing but trifles too small for perfection, 
 Nothing eternal ah! nothing, we know. 
 
 And from the man who an idol shall make it 
 Death shall demand all the flow rs of his heart; 
 
88 VERSES FROM tHE VALLEY. 
 
 Wither and scorch them with gold-shine forever; 
 Burn up their petals with niter of silver; 
 Smother their fragrance in dim, dusty paper, 
 Till the whole man will be fashioned 
 From his head to his feet ; 
 
 Formed by the breath and the throb and the beat 
 Of desire most insatiate 
 To have gold and keep it and hide it, 
 Till his tenderness withers, 
 His home love dec3ys, 
 And callous he grows; cold 
 ^A.s the money he worships and loves; 
 Till at length, without heart-friends. 
 He lies by the gold ore and silver 
 Down under the sod of the hill. 
 
 FRUSTRATED. 
 
 (To E.) 
 
 " The best laid schemes o mice an men 
 Gang aft a-gley." 
 
 Two rings of gold 
 
 Were given to me by a maiden fair, 
 
 Placed for a moment in my hand and care 
 
 Until she should return; and so I mused, 
 
 Turning the circlets o er and o er, 
 
 On sayings I had read before. 
 
 How everything 
 
 Comes down to us in circles round and round- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 80 
 
 Light through the air or waves of pleasant sound; 
 How earth is but a spheroid which revolves 
 Itself, revolving round a ring, 
 As morning comes and evening ! 
 
 How days and years 
 In winding circles ever come and go, 
 Inclosing for us either weal or woe ! 
 How hills surround and blue skies arch, 
 While the horizon circleth all 
 Visible things upon this ball. 
 
 And so I wished, 
 
 Vainly I know, that I might learn from these 
 
 Two rings what would a doubting heart appease; 
 
 Learn what the pulses beat within the bands 
 
 Which circled them, and where each day 
 
 A dozen secrets came their way. 
 
 For I had read 
 
 How ancient gods, for pledge of loving care, 
 
 Had given rings made from their golden hair 
 
 To one they loved, which should a token be 
 
 Of blessings that would e er descend, 
 
 In falling circles without end. 
 
 And more I read, 
 
 How rings once worn upon the finger, could 
 
 Secrets reveal to others, if they would 
 
 He pressed against the warm and beating pulse; 
 
 For, rushing currents from the heart 
 
 Bear messages to every part. 
 
90 VERSES FROM THK VALLEY. 
 
 Then as I tried 
 
 But failed to learn what most I wished to know, 
 I let the ancient tales and fancies go. 
 Resolving then that I would give the maid 
 Only one ring, and to her say, 
 "One now, and one another day." 
 
 Yet when she came 
 
 Tripping so lightly, with extended hand 
 To make her just and reasonable demand, 
 Her blue e.yes beaming, I forgot to siy 
 A single word, but gave each ring 
 Without the power of questioning. 
 
 SUNNYSIDE. 
 
 " I remember, I remember 
 The house where I was born." 
 
 HOME of my boyhood days! how doth this heart 
 Quicken at thought of thee, and haste its work 
 Like one who suddenly remembers aught 
 Important, but forgotten in the midst 
 Of work more near. Slow pulses feel the thrill 
 And send a glow upon my cheek; my eyes 
 Grow liquid, and these hands are trembling now, 
 So much I love thy name, my Sunnyside! 
 
 And I must pause here, though my soul be full 
 Of other, later thoughts which press their weight 
 And crowd against the dreams of long ago; 
 Thoughts, recollections, dear remembrances 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 91 
 
 Of what shall never be again; of what 
 Lies like a beauteous valley in the past, 
 Hidden sometimes by shadowy mists, but now 
 Clear in the stream of memory s lucid light. 
 
 Here is the garden with its narrow path, 
 A path that wanders every whitherward 
 Like wilful child that will not guided be- 
 Now under apple trees, and now between 
 Green walls of vines and eglantine, which reach 
 Over the way, and cast strange tracery 
 Of shade upon the daylight there. Beyond 
 Stretches the clover field where we could run, 
 A dozen children, playing hide and seek, 
 And not be found, while every rosy head 
 Of clover saw the place and would not tell, 
 But helped to shield us with its triple leaf. 
 
 Not far away, where cherry bushes grew 
 
 And bore the red choke-cherries high aloft, 
 
 We had our play-house, on a little knoll 
 
 With grassy sides. Here came we when white bloom 
 
 Fell o er the plum trees like thin flakes of snow, 
 
 And tender spears of green pierced through the earth 
 
 On hill-sides everywhere, and May flowers thrust 
 
 Their fresh, sweet faces through the l a afy mould; 
 
 When pussy buds of willow broke their shells, 
 
 And warmed their downy fur backs in the sun. 
 
 Here were we too when dandelions shot 
 
 Their yellow suns abroad o er all the field, 
 
 And vi lets, white and pink and yellow, hid 
 
 Their pretty modest faces by the brook; 
 
92 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And fire-weed flamed, and dear forget-me-nots 
 Made us kneel down and pay them homage there. 
 
 Here lived we when the grass had grown 
 
 As tall as we, and all the trees hung low 
 
 With apples, plums, and cherries black and red; 
 
 When dark-eyed autumn flowers grew on the slopes, 
 
 And corn-fields tossed thetr-silken fringes loose 
 
 For us to braid, and pumpkins gave us seats. 
 
 We played we people were of consequence, 
 
 Women and men who had secured the things 
 
 Children so covet knowledge of the world, 
 
 Stature and years, and, looking forward, found 
 
 Our joy in what was yet to come, as we 
 
 In later years, for this same joy, backwards 
 
 Must look. Our home was humble, but it seemed 
 
 A palace, for we furnished it with great 
 
 And costly draperies made from Fancy s loom. 
 
 Nothing we lacked but what we could supply 
 
 By wishing it, while little Nell, the wife, 
 
 Faithfully performed her household duties, like 
 
 Some matron who had lived nigh half her days 
 
 Toiling at home. Children my sisters were 
 
 To us two girls, and oft a neighbor s child 
 
 Would be their brother, and thus add a third 
 
 To our already happy family. 
 
 Sometimes we wandered from our sheltered nook, 
 
 On to the mountain-side and through the fields 
 
 Of long, long grass, where blue flowers tossed their heads 
 
 Among the hay-seed tufts, and there, below, 
 
 Close to the ground, we picked the strawberry, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 93 
 
 And picked and ate, painting each others cheeks 
 And lips till they were crimson red ; then strdng 
 A dozen straws with berries large and soft, 
 And homeward went, a harvest in our hands. 
 
 Oft, too, when birching season came, we took 
 Our lunch and sought old Polette s road, which went 
 Winding along down to the river brink, 
 Through woods of birch- sweet woods of scented birch- 
 Wherein we peeled the white bark from the trees, 
 Scraping the rich, sweet, pulpy juice until 
 We filled our birchen dishes full, then turned 
 Up towards our Prospect hill, and rested there 
 Awhile, sitting on Rest stone, near which lay 
 The little grave-yard sleeping silently. 
 Yonder the wide fields spread, with cottages 
 Among the garden plots ; then miles of land, 
 Stretching far up against the horizon, 
 Their woods of hemlock dark and tamarack, 
 While, by the sloping side, the river flowed, 
 Bending its course to suit the rugged hill, 
 Till in the distance, like a silver thread, 
 In many folds it wound itself away. 
 
 Often we went down to the river s edge 
 
 When the red sun was reaching towards the west, 
 
 My love and I, and watched the deep, dark stream 
 
 Flow on between its rocky sides, and sa w 
 
 Upon its bosom all the sky, the clouds, 
 
 The tinted leaves of maple, beech, and birch, 
 
 Reflected in a beauteous miniature. 
 
 And on the moss-grown sides we sat to make 
 
94 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Baskets of burdock burrs, with pails and chairs, 
 
 Or what we wished, according to our mood. 
 
 Now we would tell the hour by blowing off 
 
 The dandelion-down, when every seed 
 
 That stayed upon the stem would count one hour. 
 
 Or with the lichen we would make a chain, 
 
 A necklace, or a ring, which Nell would keep 
 
 And wear because I made it and so willed. 
 Mats wove we of the pliant stems that %rew 
 About the river s edge, and linden leaves 
 Were turned to aprons. There we played till Eve 
 Touched the dark hemlocks with her misty hand, 
 And warned us plainly of approaching night. 
 
 And oft we picked the May flowers in the spring, 
 And gathered violets by the laughing brook, 
 And filled our hands in balmy summer-time 
 With fire-weed stems, and showy buttercups, 
 And succory, and lilies pale and wan. 
 
 O Sunnyside, how far thy prospect lies 
 From me to-day ! tis as the promised land 
 To Moses, beautiful but far away; 
 Seen only and not realized. But he 
 Who stood on Nebo s top could view a land 
 That was to be, while I am looking back 
 To what has been a past that will return 
 Never, except in memory. 
 
 ST. JOHN S CHURCH. 
 
 SILENT the little church, where once 
 So many at the beat of pulses came, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 95 
 
 With burning soul and restless heart. 
 
 Father and maiden, son and feeble dame, 
 
 To cry to God and honest men, 
 
 How England s heavy hand now bore them down; 
 How tyranny was forcing them 
 
 To break allegiance to the kingly crown. 
 
 See how they come from far away ! 
 
 Old men with tight-pressed lip and faces white, 
 Signs of a mental combat which 
 
 Is but precursor of a fiercer fight. 
 
 Old women leaning for support; 
 
 Mothers with infant crooning at the breast; 
 Maidens and lovers hand in hand, 
 
 Breathless and eager, pausing not for rest. 
 
 The church grows crowded ; every pew 
 
 Gives room until no room for more; 
 The aisles are pressed, and on the steps 
 
 Hundreds are seeking entrance at the door. 
 
 Who mounts the stair? Ah! one who brings 
 A hush of silence like the still of death ; 
 
 See, from all eyes how eagerly 
 
 They watch the comer now with bated breath ! 
 
 He speaks, and like electric flash 
 
 His words conducted are to hearts of men! 
 
 Shock after shock they feel, and yet 
 
 He strikes them with his tongue of flame again, 
 
 Then thunders out his voice, till old 
 
 Men clinch their wrinkled hands and forward bend; 
 
96 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Till young men stand in zeal, and women weep, 
 And with the maidens sobbing voices blend. 
 
 "God made us all," the speaker says, 
 
 "And in his image made us every one, 
 Not one above another, but 
 
 All equal sharers in his soil and sun. 
 
 11 Must we submit to tyranny 
 
 And unjust laws," he cries with patriot breath ; 
 " Men of my country, cry with me, 
 
 O give me liberty, or give me death ! " 
 
 Over one hundred years have passed away 
 Since here these voices filled the throbbing air 
 
 With cries for freedom, yet they ring 
 Not only in my heart, but everywhere. 
 
 And as the sun sinks low, I hear 
 
 Within the church and from each humble tomb, 
 Voices of those who fought and died 
 
 To bring the light of freedom through our gloom. 
 Richmond, Va., May, 1881. 
 
 TO MY CONFESSOR. 
 
 You know my sins, and follies too ; 
 
 You have them at your fingers ends; 
 The only thing I have to do 
 Is pardon full and free to sue, 
 
 And then to make amends 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 97 
 
 Please to absolve me now, my dear, 
 
 And I will from my ways desist; 
 How can I err when you are near, 
 Or, sweet girl, give you cause for fear, 
 
 Or your kind will resist? 
 
 The down-glance from your eyes I ft el 
 Reach deep within me, like some gleam 
 
 That through the leaves will downward steal. 
 
 And brighten as it doth reveal 
 The pebbles in the stream. 
 
 Those red lips are two ruby gates, 
 
 From which kind words like angels come ; 
 Where Love with Patience now debates, 
 While Love demurs and Patience waits, 
 And wrath is stricken dumb. 
 
 They cannot chide, those lips, ah, no ! 
 
 Though worthy of all blame I be ; 
 They only can forgive, and so 
 Full absolution soon, I know, 
 
 They will vouchsafe to me! 
 
 Come, now, my love, give me your hand, 
 So small, and warm, and dimpled o er; 
 
 I swear by every oath s demand, 
 
 In this or any other land, 
 That I will sin no more. 
 o 
 
 TO NELLIE. 
 
 OVER the field where you have scattered seed, 
 Has fallen the rain, 
 7 
 
VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And the sun hath shone in a time of need, 
 Nor shone in vain. 
 
 For tall blades have sprung and their blossoms burst 
 
 Over it, one by one, 
 Watered by rain-clouds and sacredly nursed 
 
 By a gentle sun. 
 
 But no one in fruit-time came, so the day 
 
 Of the harvest went past; 
 And the untouched fruit has fallen away 
 
 To the earth at last. 
 
 Now nothing is left but the hardened seed 
 
 In the dead fruit s heart; 
 Oh, tell me, my Nell, shall a life indeed 
 
 From such promise start? 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 Tis midnight and nu sleep, 
 No sleep, comes to my eyes; 
 
 Long have I lain awake 
 Vv 7 atching the skies, 
 
 Watching vague waves of cloud, 
 Moving like ghosts of night 
 
 Over the moon s pale face, 
 Veiling her light. 
 
 How do they drift and drift 
 Onward so far away, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 99 
 
 Going no whitherward, 
 Where can they stray? 
 
 Large grows my vision now, 
 
 Nothing but sky I see- 
 Nothing but clouds that pass 
 
 On silently. 
 
 THE LEADERS. 
 
 " Nostram nunc accipe mentem" 
 SAVE us, O Lord ! from pigmy men 
 Who cry and shout and shriek till hoarse, 
 With idle word and accent coarse, 
 Their little arguments again ! 
 
 Small politicians who can talk 
 And spill their vain words in the air, 
 Which fall like soot-flakes everywhere, 
 
 And blacken all the way we walk. 
 
 Are men so low they must be shown 
 Their duty by such shallow fools; 
 Whose tongues are used like common tools, 
 
 Much more another s than their own ? 
 
 Yet such but babbling babblers be, 
 Their noisy streams must soon run dry ; 
 They sourceless are, nor by and by 
 Will their wild waters reach the sea. 
 
 O you who see and think and feel, 
 Who hold a part of God s great mind, 
 
ioo VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Trust not these faithless leaders blind, 
 Nor your own reason s laws repeal. 
 Ask Him who gave you minds, to give 
 You courage now to show their worth, 
 And make you, whom He blessed with birth, 
 Feel your existence as you live. 
 
 IN THE MAPLE WOOD. 
 
 WITHIN this shade of maple wood, 
 
 Where, at high noon, day scarce can penetrate, 
 Upon some knoll, in thankful mood, 
 
 How sweet to think and wait! 
 To listen to the happy birds, 
 
 Which flit with lightsome wing from tree to tree, 
 Singing a song too sweet for words, 
 
 A heavenly minstrelsy ! 
 To watch the gentle flowers bend 
 
 In low obeisance to the passing breeze ; 
 To see light s quivering arrows blend 
 
 Their points beneath the trees ! 
 And dance upon the brooklet s breast, 
 
 Or lighten up the lily s ashen face; 
 Oh, bliss it is indeed, and rest 
 
 To be in such a place ! 
 Yonder a winding path leads on, 
 
 O ergrown and strewn with fallen leaf and seed, 
 Where, toiling from the early dawn, 
 
 The squirrel finds his meed, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 101 
 
 And chatters gaily to himself 
 
 At each discovery for his winter store, 
 Then scampers off like some wee elf, 
 
 But yet returns for more ! 
 
 Near by, a noisy bumble-bee 
 
 Makes all the air with his own music ring ; 
 And swiftly darting, I can see 
 
 The dragon s double wing ! 
 There, like a falling leaf, so white 
 
 Floating, a butterfly sinks toward the stream, 
 Wherein, reflected by the light, 
 
 It motionless doth seem. 
 I could live always with such things 
 
 To charm my senses into dream-like rest. 
 For here sweet fancy taketh wings 
 
 To grant my soul s request. 
 Now slant the rays of sinking sun, 
 
 With no one near but quiet earth and me; 
 Soon will the fading day be done, 
 
 And night fall silently. 
 O Earth! how rich thy treasures be 
 
 In gifts to every creature great and small ! 
 How doth my heart go out to thee, 
 
 Thou mother of us all! 
 
 Home, August, 1883. 
 
 o 
 
 TO CAPTAIN L. 
 
 Est in secessu longo locus: insula pprtum 
 Efficit objectu laterum, quibus omnis ab alto 
 Franeitur, inque sinus scindit sese unda reductos. 
 
 Virg. A. I. 159. 
 
102 VERSKS FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 I. 
 
 ALL through the warp of life does sorrow weave 
 Its strange, dark threads, but still 
 We ply the shuttle of our will, 
 
 And weave across the fine white silk, and weave 
 Careful or careless, as we may, 
 The fabrics for another day. 
 II. 
 
 Of good our ills are made, and surely will 
 Prove good to us, if only we 
 Dissolve them with our Alchemy; 
 
 For nothing harmful is to him who knows 
 How to resolve the woe and pain 
 Back to their elements again. 
 
 The lack within us lies, and all is good 
 That comes to good men everywhere 
 Through water, fire, or earth, or air. 
 Ill 
 
 There is a place deep in the mind s recess, 
 A beauteous island of the soul, 
 Where safety is when waters roll 
 
 In tidal waves of trial and of wrong; 
 Or in the rising flow of pain 
 Which ebbs away and flows again. 
 
 Safely the island rests, and every wave 
 Raging against it breaks and swerves 
 Back on itself in falling curves. 
 
 And from the sea of trouble here below 
 
 Naught can affect that island s peace, for He 
 Holds its foundations in eternity. 
 
EARLY PIECES 
 
 TO MOTHER 
 
 (With birthday greetings, April 26, 1881.) 
 THE Past with all her treasures, yet receives 
 Into her reaching lap another year; 
 While poorer Present loudly grieves, 
 And gathers her remaining sheaves, 
 As the wind gathers up the leaves. 
 
 Dim Future stern seems but a waste, 
 A desert stored with coming time. 
 Of which ne er comes a sure foretaste 
 But which the Present takes with haste, 
 And holds about her with a pride sublime. 
 
 And then she writes before our face 
 Promises from this grim Future yet to be 
 Of some more years, some extra grace, 
 That may permit a longer race, 
 That soon alone the past will see. 
 
 Ah ! Future, cold and haughty, now 
 I would not ask one single day; 
 For it is written on thy brow, 
 Of thy hard dealings oft, and how 
 Requests were granted in a cruel way. 
 
 (103) 
 
104 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Thou may st have years of happy life 
 
 To give us all a part; 
 
 And then, perhaps, tis years of strife, 
 
 Where pain and sorrow ere are rife, 
 
 And aching wounds to bruise the heart; 
 
 So never do I ask thee aught, 
 
 And joy or sorrow coming, comes unsought. 
 
 Dear Past ! for thou art always sad; 
 So full of many thoughts that seem 
 To fill thy soul and never make thee glad; 
 How oft thy face looks tho there had 
 Come to thy mind some longing dream ! 
 
 Happy to-day, child of the present hour, 
 I greet thee now, and humbly ask 
 Thee for one lasting, little flower 
 From out the many in thy bower, 
 To aid me in my loving task. 
 
 HOLD THOU MY HAND, 
 
 SAVIOUR, the way is long and dark; 
 And when I see the waters drear 
 Angry and raging, almost I fear 
 With faith so small my little bark 
 Will sink. 
 
 Guide thou me it and keep it safe 
 From every tossing wave of ill 
 And danger; help me to do thy will 
 
EARLY PIECES. 105 
 
 And serve thee more, not like the waif 
 Wander away, 
 
 But in thy love serve thee alone, 
 And praise the Maker of my life, 
 In joy or sorrow, pain or strife, 
 Praise yet to thee, my God, alone 
 For all. 
 
 Oh ! help me trust and never doubt 
 Of anything that thou hast said- 
 Just read thy word as some have read 
 And trust, not think a thought about 
 The rest. 
 
 Faith gave the Elders good report; 
 So through this faith we die one death 
 To live again, as Scripture saith, 
 To join an everlasting court 
 Of light. 
 
 Do I not know that He is just, 
 And on that dreadful day will know 
 His jewels; and sever from below, 
 From sin all who did calmly trust 
 
 His word? 
 
 Then I may know, for saith the Lord divine, 
 "I, I will spare my jewels in that day, 
 Those who have followed in my way; 
 Those precious jewels shall be mine 
 
 In Heaven." 
 
 Father, my only dearest Friend, 
 Press thou my hand and keep it firm, 
 
io6 VKRSKS FROM TIIK VALLEY. 
 
 For I am weak a feeble worm, 
 
 Apt to be crushed and then not lend 
 
 My aid, 
 
 For I would have thee tightly hold my hand, 
 That I may walk in confidence, and teach 
 Others of thy dear love; help them to reach 
 Our home, that beauteous, far-off land, 
 
 Of rest. 
 
 I walk, and as I go light is around, 
 And joy, and peace all gladness in my h.-art; 
 I would not from the path depart, 
 But of the precious peace I have 
 
 Impart, 
 
 And spread it on from land to land, 
 Fill every man with God s own love, 
 Give him that mission from above, 
 That he may join the happy band 
 
 And sing 
 
 Loud with the psalmist of God s heart, 
 Praise ye the Lord, tis good to sing 
 Praises of love to our great King, 
 For he is great, and rules above, 
 Commanding nature at his will, 
 E en telling oceans to be still, 
 And yet he is a God of love 
 
 And merciful. 
 
 --o 
 
 TRUE FRIENDS. 
 
 WE know some friends are found 
 Around 
 
KAKLY PIECES. 107 
 
 Us, like the stones upon the ground, 
 Which, clustered o er the fields away, 
 Do stay. 
 
 But true friends are not ever found 
 
 Around; 
 
 They are like diamonds neath the ground, 
 Which hold well hidden in the earth 
 
 Their worth. 
 
 Among the stones upon the field 
 
 Revealed, 
 
 Some shine out like the burnished shield, 
 And some like precious gems of gold, 
 
 Untold. 
 
 But the bright treasures in the mould, 
 
 All gold, 
 
 Will never of themselves unfold; 
 They must be sought for, and are found 
 
 Fast bound. 
 
 LINES 
 
 [On receiving a bunch of magnolia leaves from a distant friend.] 
 
 LEAVES fresh and green, 
 
 Have you sent to me; 
 
 They come, I ween, 
 
 From the dear old tree 
 That stood in the sun with nitid leaves, 
 And caught all the rain drops from the eaves; 
 
 
io8 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 That whispered and sang, as through and through 
 Its branches the musical South wind blew. 
 
 They seem to tremble and shake again, 
 
 As they did before in the wind and rain, 
 
 And the thoughts of dear days crowd through my 
 
 brain; 
 
 I am thinking, loved friend so good and true, 
 Of the precious days that I spent with, you, 
 Of a weary coming so gladly met, 
 Of gentle kindness that lingers yet, 
 Of a child watched over with patient care, 
 Of impulses deep laid open and bare, 
 Of waiting till sickness and woe went by, 
 Of watching the dark clouds from the sky, 
 Of bidding at last a long adieu, 
 Of seeing each other fade from view, 
 One in the city and one on the blue. 
 
 I see the strange, strange little town, 
 With its homely houses low and brown, 
 And I hear the rush on that rough old quay 
 Where you stood alone and beckoned to me; 
 
 I beckoned back, 
 
 I beckoned again, 
 
 But I could not stay, and my tears were vain. 
 I remember well, when my tears were dry, 
 I watched the city sink into the blue, 
 And the tall, tall palm trees against the sky 
 Were sentinels guarding your isle, I knew, 
 As the spires of the churches stood up between 
 Their graceful forms of brown and green. 
 
EARLY PIECES. 109 
 
 Now when the winds blow in your tropic clime, 
 And wondrous flowers bud out in pride sublime, 
 
 With petals of white 
 
 In the sunny light; 
 
 When your shining leaves smile back to the sun, 
 Or catch the dews when the day is done, 
 
 I will gaze upon this, 
 
 My beautiful treasure, 
 
 And drink a full measure 
 
 Of memory s bliss. 
 1882. 
 
 FIDUS ACHATES. 
 
 (To N.) 
 ALMOST a life 
 
 Of friendship, that to me 
 Was very true and dear, 
 
 Has ceased to be. 
 
 And for a word 
 
 I cannot now recall, 
 Love I have told thro years 
 
 Must wear its pall. 
 
 An ache, a pain 
 
 Throbbing against my heart, 
 That needs the sympathy 
 
 It doth impart. 
 
 A cruel wolind 
 
 For which is there no cure 
 
1 10 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 But time? OTime! soon make 
 Thy healing band secure. 
 
 And yet the hand 
 
 That brought the flowing blood, 
 All stained, I would but wet 
 
 And wash it with a tearful flood. 
 
 Who would have said 
 That in the after years, 
 
 Our friendship and our love, 
 Would bring us cause for tears? 
 
 What child would think 
 
 When the fair sun is bright, 
 
 That a few little hours 
 
 Shall bring the dark of night ! 
 
 That summer warmth, 
 
 And the sweet flow rets gay, 
 
 Will in a few short weeks 
 Vanish and fade away ! 
 
 Or that the sea, 
 
 Calm as some mountain lake, 
 May soon dash angry waves 
 
 And make its islands shake ! 
 
 Oh, what will time 
 
 Not ever dare to do 
 
 Changing flowers, sea, or sun, 
 And friendships dear and true? 
 
 Pray, friend, that we, 
 In our firm friendship now,. 
 
EARLY PIECES. 1 1 1 
 
 May never have to wear 
 Its thorns upon our brow. 
 
 Oh! make it then 
 
 So very near thy heart 
 That years, with all their wiles, 
 
 May never make us part. 
 
 Some things change not, 
 
 And why need our love change? 
 
 Oh ! why need time or age 
 Our trustful hearts estrange? 
 
 FOLLOW ME. 
 
 (JOHN i 143.) 
 
 "DEAR Lord," I said, " I cannot go; 
 Cans t thou not give me other work to do? 
 My hands are feeble and my feet too slow. 
 
 I know my offerings have been small, 
 But thou, O Lord, with goodness unsurpassed, 
 H ist taken, and with blessing paid them all. 
 
 "But if I go unto those lands 
 Far, and away from all I know or love, 
 Will strength enough uphold these trembling hands ? 
 
 " Could I not labor here as well, 
 Teach some, and learn from others as I teach, 
 Gaining in power and might thy love to tell?" 
 
ii2 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "My child," and not in anger said, 
 A. voice did answer wondrous kind and sweet, 
 "Must I yet tell thee o er what thou hast read? 
 
 "About the fishermen of old, 
 How they made answer to my Follow me, 
 Gave all they had to give, nor sought, nor sold. 
 
 "More, too, they left, family and all, 
 Treading with patient feet the thorny path, 
 Not even fearing what might -yet befall. 
 
 " Many a thorn tore the soft flesh 
 Of their too tender feet, while the blood flowed 
 As does the juice from fruit that broken is, and fresh. 
 
 " Oft new-healed wounds were torn again, 
 And nature s acts roughly undone, 
 Leaving behind a trail of crimson stain. 
 
 "But yet they followed me, until 
 White locks were crowns of glory that they wore, 
 And their knees trembled as they followed still. 
 
 "Gird up thy loins with faith, my child ; 
 Thou art my servant, and I ask of thee 
 To help us glean our harvest from the wild. 
 
 "For fields are white, wasting away, 
 And hoary heads bend low like ripened grain, 
 To fall and die, if we provide no other way. 
 
 "Nations in darkness reach to me, 
 And call for what they would but know not of, 
 Striving in weary bonds for liberty. 
 
EARLY PIECES, 1 1 3 
 
 "And unto you who now are free, 
 To all rejoicing in my love, 
 I ask to tell the tale of Calvary. 
 
 "I will uphold thee, do not fear, 
 My strength sufficient is for all thy needs; 
 I will watch o er thee and be ever near. 
 
 "The ignorant have I made wise, 
 And to the feeble I have given strength, 
 And filled with hope the heart that knew but sighs. 
 
 "Tongues that were ever slow of speech 
 Have I made full of words and truth and fire; 
 And those as babes in learning apt to teach. 
 
 "My ways are not the ways of man, 
 And so my laws must ofttimes differ from 
 E en thy sincere and well-intentioned plan. 
 
 "Therefore fail not; I bid thee go 
 And whisper in that Nation s ear the truth, 
 That I am Him from whom all blessings flow. 
 
 "And I will be to thee a C.od, 
 1 ,oving thee as I loved my Israel, 
 Withholding oft the chastening of the rod. 
 
 "Depart, and do not tarry long 
 In this place; follow me to the land 
 Where I have promised thou shalt soon belong. 
 
 "Depart, the sun sends up his light 
 Already from the eastern horizon, 
 And when he sees the west, it will be night. 
 
ii4 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "Depart far out to that dark land, 
 While yet thy life is in its eastern glow, 
 That, sinking to the West, it shall be grand. 
 
 "Depart, thou shalt not find a king 
 More just to guide his people as they go 
 Far from their home, or grant them anything. 
 
 "At last I will not say, Depart, 
 But, Welcome, child, to thy eternal home, 
 Granting the holy wishes of thy heart. 
 
 "For I will give thee lasting rest 
 From all that ever caused thee pain or woe, 
 And an abode among the blissful blest." 
 
 "I will not tarry, my dear Lord, 
 Nor ask for other work that is not mine, 
 But do as thou hast bid, trusting thy word. 
 
 "Strengthen my hands, oh! make them strong 
 To carry tidings heavy with thy love, 
 And bear them bravely as I pass along. 
 
 "Direct my steps aright, my King, 
 And keep them from the way not sure or safe, 
 And from the tempting paths that ruin bring. 
 
 " So farewell all ! I go far hence, 
 Taking my Master s hand and leaning hard, 
 Looking with hope up to the firmaments, 
 
 "And wondering if I still may look 
 Upward from earth to those small, shining stars, 
 When many years have turned life pages in my book; 
 
EARLY PIECES. 115 
 
 " Or whether these same stars will shine 
 Upon my grave instead, while I am far 
 Above them and rejoicing in a light divine. 
 
 " It may be One will watch from earth, 
 While one with love watches from Heaven, 
 Longing to welcome there another birth. 
 
 " It will be well, and His way best, 
 \Vhether we toil long years, or wing 
 Gladly a flight to our supernal rest. 
 
 "One has gone there before us all, 
 And she will look and smile upon us, when 
 We hasten to obey the Master s call." 
 
 A GUEST. 
 
 I KNOW not why, this night my grief 
 
 Has all returned to me; 
 My heart aches sore, and for relief 
 
 Hot tears fall heavily. 
 
 Sorrows that burst long years ago 
 
 Like dark waves over me, 
 Are here to-night, but ebb and flow 
 
 Their waters silently. 
 
 I wonder much. Soul, dost thou know? 
 
 But list ! a voice I hear: 
 " Grief is not subject to the will, 
 Nor reason s mind austere. 
 
n6 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "Thy grief thou canst not ever hide, 
 
 It heeds no sacrifice ; 
 No woe of thine has ever died, 
 For no great sorrow dies. 
 
 "It may lie buried in the breast 
 
 Through weeks and months and years, 
 When, like some unexpected guest, 
 It suddenly appears, 
 
 "Yet welcome is, though bringing pain 
 
 And ache and mental rack; 
 Though to thy soul it once again 
 Bring such sad memories back." 
 
 Then welcome to my heart, O friend ! 
 
 Take all I hold as mine; 
 I will not stand aloof, but bend 
 
 My wish and will to thine ! 
 
 1K)\V THE WATER-LILY CAME, 
 
 ON a sunny day in the month of May. 
 
 A May-flower and a Lily met; 
 Their faces were bright in the morning light, 
 
 And their cheeks with the dew were wet. 
 
 Well," said the flow r, "at this early hour, 
 
 Tis good we are here, my friend; 
 I am sure that we, if you agree, 
 May together our pleasure blend. 
 
EARLY PIECES. 11; 
 
 The Lily blushed and with cheeks a- flushed 
 
 So modestly answered, " Yes," 
 That the May-flower stood in the shady wood, 
 
 With a heart full of tenderness, 
 
 And he put down his face with a pleasing grace, 
 
 As he whispered into her ear, 
 "Let us go to King May on this summer day 
 And be wed this very year." 
 
 So hand in hand through the woody land, 
 
 They went to the King of May; 
 But sternly he said: "You can never wed 
 
 That Lily, as you say. 
 
 "We May-flowers are so v^ry far 
 
 Above the common race, 
 That I must brand your strange demand 
 As exceeding out of place." 
 
 And the haughty king saw each trembling thing 
 
 Bow at his cruel look; 
 But he uttered the word, and never stirred 
 
 As his palace they forsook. 
 
 So on they sped, for they would wed, 
 
 Whatever the king might say, 
 Till they came to a stream where a merry gleam 
 
 Led into a pleasant way. 
 
 But all seemed foes, and of their woes 
 
 Did not care to hear them tell; 
 How they met, and love from its flight above 
 
 Had come in their hearts to dwell. 
 
ji8 VKKSKS FROM TIIK VALLI.V. 
 
 At last they came to a blind old dame. 
 
 Who lived by the water s side; 
 Her face was yellow, but soft and mellow, 
 
 And her hands were smooth and wide. 
 
 Then, growing bold, the May-flower told 
 
 Of his love for the Lily maid; 
 How the King of May, that very day, 
 
 Had refused to lend them aid. 
 
 But the Lily cried, " I can be your bride, 
 
 For the king is far away; 
 And I surely think, at this brooklet s brink, 
 
 We should let our hearts be gay." 
 
 Now the blind old dame was known to fame, 
 
 And secrets of men she told; 
 By snapping a pod she became a god, 
 
 And wise as a sage of old. 
 
 To the Lily she said, " Your life I have read 
 
 By the lines in your pretty face; 
 Here is the bend where your troubles end, 
 
 This is your resting-place. 
 
 "Not many days hence will some bright days comment , 
 
 For a son shall inherit your name; 
 And an honor will he to his country be, 
 Yea, bring you a lasting fame." 
 
 So saying she took a leaf from her book 
 
 And gave to the* Lily fair; 
 Her book was a rose that blossoms and blows, 
 
 With color and fragrance rare. 
 
EARLY PIECES. 119 
 
 Then she made them a boat, and in it they float, 
 
 On the cairn of a rippling lake; 
 As they merrily play and laughingly say,. 
 " Let us now of this beverage take." 
 
 As soon as they drink, the dame gives a wink, 
 And the lake sinks them into its breast, 
 
 Where away from all dross they sink to the moss, 
 And partake of the pleasure, of rest. 
 
 Oh, happy the day when we followed the way 
 
 That led to this gay retreat ! " 
 And they sang to the mosses, which, with vain little tosses, 
 
 Laughed back in their voices so sweet. 
 
 Now the Lily looked wise, and a light in her eyes 
 
 Betokened the end of their mission ; 
 For her mind was at rest, and in it imprest 
 
 The leaflet s wondrous commission. 
 
 Soon, Lucina came down to the watery town, 
 
 And attended the birth of one 
 Who was fair as the rose though in water he grows, 
 
 While he lifts up his face to the sun. 
 
 The mosses were gay, and, in royal array, 
 
 Shouted loud at the birth of a prince; 
 For he rose to the top of the rippling drop, 
 
 And has smiled to the sun ever since. 
 
 No w they sleep neath the mosses, and the water-lid tosses 
 
 His head in the shining sun; 
 And he bears on his breast the picture and crest 
 
 Of those whose journey is done. 
 
(20 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 If ever you float in your pleasure-boat, 
 
 And come to a Lily fair, 
 Just ask for his history, and the wonderful mystery 
 
 He will tell with a pleasing air, 
 
 Flow he came to be named and so wonderfully fanned; 
 
 How his beauty is never surpassed ; 
 His mother was Lily, and he, Water-lily, 
 
 Has been called from the first to the last. 
 1878. 
 
 AT EVENING, 
 
 Tis autumn evening, and the sun, 
 Fast sinking, tells his work is done; 
 (ireat cumulous clouds are colored bright 
 With many shades of varying light, 
 And hills and mountains throw their shadows o er 
 A grassy meadow or some cottage door. 
 Across the fields they move and still keep on, 
 Until the fading day s last beam is gone; 
 Until the mountains, wrapt in sombrous night, 
 Spread like huge giants up against the light. 
 Now, far beyond, the sun sends up its smile. 
 Which here and there the golden clouds beguile; 
 And near the sun, above the forest green, 
 Small specks of gold and silver may be seen, 
 Which move, like visions in the eye of man, 
 That shine, then fade, and then shine out again. 
 The earth is silent, all her voice is still; 
 
EARLY PIECES. 121 
 
 The ploughman rests his steed; and at the mill 
 Waters, now unrestrained, rush to their course, 
 And seek a pebbly bed with murmur hoarse. 
 Soon as the lighter clouds are gone, 
 Huge forms, fantastically drawn, 
 Hover about the darkened earth 
 And wreathe it with a horizontal girth. 
 Above, the heavens shine out in twinkling dots, 
 As though some painter carelessly made spots 
 By shaking paint into the spreading blue, 
 The first ones larger and of whiter hue, 
 Then others smaller, till at last, in play, 
 He shakes his brush and forms the Milky Way. 
 The moon is absent from the starry vault, 
 Because- -in very truth a dark cloud s fault- 
 She screens her face, and from us hides the light, 
 That soon would chase the timid shades of night. 
 Hut see! she bolder grows with longing face, 
 And casts her veil into another place. 
 Quickly weird forms of shadow shyly glide 
 By forests dense or to the mountain-side, 
 And some to other places turn their feet, 
 Fast, faster yet, for light is very fleet, 
 Thus do they (lit and flee or now return, 
 As the mild guardian of these hours may learn 
 The inner secrets of a cautious night, 
 And change its gloomy spirits into light. 
 
 Tis autumn every year, and oftener, too, 
 
 The sun goes down, shades come, and stars shine true. 
 
 Oh! should we not thank God for such a sight 
 
122 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 As fading sunset and a starry night; 
 Intelligence to read those distant spheres, 
 And earth s relation to them all in rolling years? 
 For when we sit beneath God s wondrous sky, 
 To view his work stupendous work on high 
 We with the psalmist would rejoice and say, 
 How excellent is His name from day to day, 
 Night unto night shows knowledge of his power, 
 Nor speech nor language can above it tower. 
 
 TO M. J. A. P. 
 
 MY friend, our village poet, 
 Unto thee I sing this song. 
 
 Wilt thou hear it? Wilt thou take it? 
 For it doth to thee belong. 
 
 Oft have I admired thy music, 
 Chords and harmonies so sweet, 
 
 And thy soft and gentle rhythm 
 So with joy my heart doth greet, 
 
 That I cannot keep from singing, 
 Cannot keep thee from thy praise, 
 
 But with pleasure in the duty 
 Would mine Ebenezer raise. 
 
 Young art thou, but there is promise 
 Thou wilt sing the poet s lays, 
 
 Which will bring thee to remembrance 
 In the long and future days. 
 
KAKLY I IKCKS. 123 
 
 Strains will echo from thy mountains 
 
 And resound along the bays, 
 With a soft reverberation 
 
 Up our steep, romantic ways, 
 
 And some day we may be singing 
 
 Songs that claim their birth from thee; 
 
 Reaching back in their returning 
 Like some loved and lost Ami. 
 
 Though thy flowers be few in number, 
 
 We have promise still of more; 
 For the plant that blossoms early 
 
 Always keeps some buds in store, 
 
 Aad these buds will surely blossom, 
 
 Ope their petals wide and send, 
 Out to every land and nation, 
 
 Fragrance from my poet friend. 
 
 So in parting I would thank thee 
 Once again, and then farewell, 
 But remember that thy name is 
 In the land of song to dwell. 
 Quebec, 1879. 
 
 I DID NOT KNOW. 
 
 DKATH, I can greet thee now, and gladly take thy hand, 
 That leads so far down in the narrow way, 
 Through the drear valley, to the other land. 
 
124 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Once I did shudder at the thought that this grim death 
 Some day would lead me to himself, and take 
 This beating life, my soul, and all my breath. 
 
 And oft, when nearing to the twilight hour, or night, 
 Sad thoughts would tell my heart their secrets o er, 
 And dwell upon the parting, and life s fight; 
 
 How some, though weary of their own existence, 
 When came, at last, the awful gloom of death, 
 AVould seek to live, and struggle in resistance; 
 
 Then, looking at our earth, more firmly would I say, 
 "I cannot leave my home --this happy world 
 For death that world of darkness not a day." 
 
 I loved to think about the land of pearly gates, 
 As something far and ever out of reach, 
 lie-Id dec]) within the womb of future fates. 
 
 lint for myself, 1 loved the world, its pomp and show, 
 The empty pleasures which it gives, and short, 
 Because God s lesson yet I did not know. 
 
 All is not told thee why I do not fear death more, 
 But long to see him take his hour-glass up 
 Firmly, and say, " Prepare, thy course is o er." 
 
 All would be more than thou couldst wish to hear, 
 
 Of agonizing sorrow, grief, and pain; 
 
 Loss of my home, and what, I pray, more dear? 
 
 A husband lay upon his bed in feverish dreams ; 
 His children two, and mine, nearing the end, 
 That reached them just before the morning beams. 
 
EARLY PIECES. 125 
 
 Death entered, and without a note of warning 
 Market on his glass the measure of each life, 
 And took them all, my very own, ere morning. 
 
 How did I pray and plead that I might keep but one, 
 But still relentless heard he not my voice, 
 Leaving me broken-hearted at the rising sun. 
 
 When weary eyes so full of light not long ago, 
 Closed with the constant pleading of the pain, 
 My heart no more withstood; I knelt, bowed low. 
 
 I did not weep a flood of tears, but sadly knelt 
 Down by the side of my departed own 
 In agony, not knowing what I felt. 
 
 And then I prayed to Him who brings all lasting pear e, 
 That He would calm my proud, rebellious heart 
 With rest from sources that can never cease. 
 
 God gave me peace and hope, that blissful hope 
 Which faith and trust and love only can bring, 
 And which enlarged my vision and my scope. 
 
 1 know full well pain went not from my heart that day, 
 (lod knows the aching void I felt for years 
 Succeeding, but 1 knew God s better way. 
 
 Now, many years have passed away; they still go on, 
 
 And speed me onward to eternity, 
 
 As shadows fall upon me, ere the dawn. 
 
 Still there is pleasure in the thought, " I m going home," 
 And that my Master needs me here no more 
 To toil alone, to sorrow, or to roam. 
 
126 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And what a glorious greeting when I reach the land ; 
 
 Past all temptation, and all weary pain ; 
 
 Led through the journey safe by his right hand! 
 
 A strong and guiding hand will surely lead me on, 
 Keep all my steps; while little hands of love 
 Will lighten burdens till the night is gone. 
 
 Now dost though wonder yet, when all my work is done, 
 That I should wish, and watch, and wait alway, 
 For death to tell me that my race is run ? 
 
 For, nearing to the twilight hour, or night, 
 Sweet thoughts will tell my heart their secrets o er, 
 And dwell upon the meeting and life s flight. 
 
 TO MY BROTHER. 
 
 [On his birthday.] 
 
 Do you remember ah ! how could you forget 
 Those sacred evenings when the sun had set, 
 That recess high and small beneath the attic stairs 
 Where we were wont to creep oft unawares ; 
 And where the hours did glide so fast, when evening came 
 It caught us building castles great in airy fame? 
 How many did we build, how great, how high, 
 False pictures of the mfsty by and by! 
 Then twilight hour would catch us there to add anew; 
 We would be noble knights who bravely thousands slew? 
 With sword and shield we fought like bloody men, 
 Or lived like pirates in some gloomy den. 
 
EARLY PIECES. 127 
 
 But ever when we spoke of deeds we should not do, 
 Conscience would smite us hard and better feelings woo; 
 Remind us of the very things we knew, 
 That better was the good man than the one who slew. 
 Or when grim shadows made our recess dark as night, 
 Knowing our former themes were wrong, we turned them 
 
 right, 
 
 And talked of being men of truth and valor strong, 
 Who fought, if need be, to resist the wrong. 
 And you remember Sabbaths, how they passed ! 
 Those days, when we must do our duty plain, 
 Learn Bible verses, and, forgetting, learn again, 
 Until dear mother, satisfied we knew them well, 
 Would bid us sit and listen while she d tell, 
 Not tales of wild adventure, but of old; 
 Of David, of the temple and its gold! 
 These were our romances ; of Joseph would we hear, 
 His childhood and captivity his father s fear. 
 And when she told of Jesus, oh ! better far than all, 
 Our hearts would throb. Why should they give him gall? 
 We would exclaim with earnest, flowing tears. 
 It touched us then our hearts were tender as our years. 
 Why can we not e er live in childhood and enjoy 
 Pleasures like these as free from all alloy? 
 Why should each year bring with it added care, 
 And make this world to us less kind and fair? 
 His will it is. Time speeds us on and on; 
 Obey we must, to find that youth is gone; 
 Each birthday comes, leaving one year behind, 
 Which passes from us like a sad thought from the mind. 
 And thus in youth, glad days, we longed to be 
 
128 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Sailors on life s wild, boisterous sea. 
 The time is now, and our fond dreams we meet, 
 Perhaps as men of valor, but with feeble feet. 
 Our knights of youth are gone, our castles high 
 Flown from us like the nervous butterfly, 
 And though we realize the dreams of being men, 
 Little are they like dreams when you were ten; 
 And age must come, and childhood pass away, 
 For time is fleeting and our life a day. 
 
 IN A SCHOOL-MATE S ALBUM. 
 
 SHOW your true colors, and the flag unfurl 
 
 Of your just Principle. Into the wind 
 
 Free let it wave, and o er the lightnings fierce 
 
 Of Opposition. If drops of rain do, 
 
 Fulling from Slander s cloud, now make it droop, 
 
 Soon as the storm bursts loud the flag will spread 
 
 Abroad its folds, shaking the rain from off 
 
 Their colors bright, and show how they were made 
 
 More fair and bright for their slight dampening. 
 
 THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 Two roads are ever ready 
 For travelers who know not the way, 
 Each leads through a lonely valley, 
 And one to a pleasant city; 
 
EARLY PIECES. 129 
 
 Both guide to an endless day. 
 And the road that leads to the city 
 Is plain with His smile o er the way, 
 But the other is ever leading 
 Its many far out and astray. 
 i8 79 . 
 
 NICODEMUS. 
 
 THERE was a man, a Pharisee, 
 A learned one and wise, 
 Who came to Jesus and by night 
 Inquired of him for the precious light 
 That never dies. 
 
 And Jesus, willing then, as now, 
 Told him the story o er, 
 How that he, and every sinful man, 
 To be free from sin must be born again, 
 As once before. 
 
 But the wise and learned ruler 
 Knew not what Jesus said, 
 For, doubting yet, he could not see 
 How now or ever these things could be 
 That he never read. 
 
 And He still tells on the story 
 In his word to us each day. 
 Pointing, with love and pity 
 Up to the wondrous city, 
 A way 
 
 9 
 
130 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 That leads to a grand old city, 
 Where many mansions be, 
 With shining streets of heavenly gold, 
 Where all can His dear face behold 
 
 And see 
 1879. 
 
 o 
 
 APPLE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 PRETTY apple blossoms, 
 Blossoms pure and fair, 
 
 Sending luscious fragrance 
 Through the morning air, 
 
 Make me think of snow-flakes 
 Covering all the trees, 
 
 Dropped in dire confusion 
 By some careless breeze. 
 
 Here and there a pink bud 
 Hides its modest face, 
 
 Then, unfolding slowly 
 With a beauteous grace, 
 
 Opens wide its petals 
 To our wondering view, 
 
 And becomes a blossom 
 Perfect, full, and true. 
 
 Let away one summer 
 With its pleasant sun, 
 
 And the apple blossom s 
 Little life is done. 
 
EARLY PIECES. 131 
 
 While, instead, great apples, 
 
 Green and red and brown, 
 Turn their fair cheeks toward you, 
 
 Asking to come down ! 
 
 TWO SOLILOQUIES. 
 
 [Which have not yet reached the ears of Cupid and Opportunity.] 
 
 HE. 
 I LOVE a lass so very much, 
 
 I think a lass loves me. 
 I have no courage to express 
 That love; has she? 
 
 SHE. 
 
 That funny boy, I love him well ; 
 
 He seems to love me too, 
 And were I in his place I know 
 
 What I should do. 
 
 TO MAY. 
 
 I KNOW a pretty maiden, 
 Whose large blue eyes 
 
 Do often make me think 
 Of summer skies! 
 
 As bright and clear they look, 
 As far and deep, 
 
132 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Hiding from busy Time 
 The thoughts they keep, 
 
 Which, if they re like her eyes, 
 I now would know, 
 
 What fairer thoughts than these 
 Could live below. 
 
 Sometimes clouds come and make 
 Tears fall like rain; 
 
 But then the sun soon comes 
 And shines again. 
 
 I hope few clouds may pass 
 O er those blue eyes, 
 
 Like some which often vex 
 The summer skies; 
 
 But may they always be 
 
 Free from a care, 
 And see the world as kind 
 
 As they are fair. 
 
 IN AN ALBUM, 
 
 MANY are the years which come, 
 And many the ones that go; 
 
 Upon our hearts in this rolling time> 
 Shall the light of our friendship glow? 
 
EARLY PIECES. 133 
 
 DE GOOD OLE DAYS. 
 
 TSE ole an gray, 
 
 An de only way 
 
 I spen de hours dat go, 
 
 Am to tink ob de days .when I were young, 
 
 Of de kin ole peepil I libbed among, 
 
 Of de days dat come no mo . 
 
 Fer dis hair am white, 
 
 An de glory light 
 
 Dat shine on de earf an you, 
 
 Am darker to me dan my niggah skin; 
 
 No nebber a gleam ob it do shine in, 
 
 Not a speck ob de light shine froo. 
 
 I would lub to see 
 
 Jess one bush or tree 
 
 Ob de big plantation groun , 
 
 Dat I wo k upon in dose happy days 
 
 When de darkeys sung all de sweetes lays, 
 
 An play wid de merr-go-roun . 
 
 Ole Massa he come, 
 
 An fetch de big drum 
 
 In de ev nin when we dance, 
 
 An Sambo an Mose play de violeen 
 
 Oh ! dat were the pretties sight I seen, 
 
 To see all the niggahs prance! 
 
 Dere war Chlo an Moll, 
 My Dinah an Poll; 
 
i34 VERSES i ROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Dere war Pete an Sam an Jo, 
 Dese all war my friends but de udder ban s 
 Come togedder, and soon we all joins ban s 
 Dere war Roosh an many mo . 
 
 Dan massa would say, 
 "Now come dis way, 
 You hab dance enuff to-night; 
 Here am good sweet candy for one an all, 
 Help you selves to lasses, bof great and small, 
 And each pull wid all tha might." 
 
 How we pull an tear 
 
 Done stick up our hair, 
 
 An run all de lasses dry, 
 
 An den we sit down by the moonlight an sing 
 
 Dem deah ole songs dat still does ring, 
 
 Fit enuff to make me cry. 
 
 An now when I tink 
 
 My ole heart do sink. 
 
 An* teahs comes into my eyes, 
 
 Fer Dinah, my wife, an de udder fren s 
 
 Is gone an am singin da sweet amens 
 
 In dat Ian beyond de skies. 
 
 An I bress de Lord 
 
 An his holy word 
 
 Dat I ll see de light once mo , 
 
 Dat he ll gib me soon dat fair Ian to see, 
 
 Where all my deah niggah fren s 11 be, 
 
 Dat Ian on the udder sho . 
 
EARLY PIECES. 135 
 
 Fer Fse ole an gray, 
 An de ondly way 
 I spen de hours dat go, 
 Am to tink ob de days when I were young, 
 Ob the kin ole peepil I libbed among 
 Ob de days dat come no mo . 
 Danville, Va., November, 1881. 
 
 COME LONG, SINNAH, 
 
 COME long, sinnah, 
 
 Come an be save 1 , 
 Ef you doan do it, 
 
 You s goin to de grave. 
 De Lord his arm am mighty, 
 
 De Lord his lub am great, 
 An ef you ondly ax him, 
 
 You ll nebber hab to wait. 
 
 Come long, sinnah, 
 
 Oh! doan delay, 
 Jesus am waitin , 
 
 An mebby he can t stay, 
 Fer he hab odder bus ness 
 
 Dat call him roun de globe, 
 An now s de time to gib him 
 
 Ycu order fer a robe. 
 
136 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Come long, brudder, 
 
 What am you bout, 
 All de days you hab 
 
 E ll soon be runnin out, 
 An all de souls you s leavin 
 
 To go along in sin, 
 Will poun de gates ob Hebben 
 
 Fer you to let dem in. 
 
 Den, O brudder! 
 
 What ll you say, 
 W T hen all dose sinnahs 
 
 From Hebben s kep away? 
 I tink you will be wishin 
 
 Wid all your might an main 
 Dat massa, he would gib you 
 
 One little chance again. 
 
 You, too, sistah, 
 
 What am you song? 
 You to de minstrels 
 
 Ob Hebben does belong, 
 An dis yere am you mission 
 
 To sing de jubilee; 
 To tell de worl from bondage, 
 
 De Lord hab set it free. 
 Columbia, S. C., 1881. 
 
 AS WE GWINE TURNIN ROUN 
 
 DEY tells us dat dis earf am roun 
 An ervolves in de air, 
 
EARLY PIECES. 137 
 
 Turnin an turnin , but I believe 
 
 Dat dis yere am not fair, 
 An we could nebber hab got heah 
 
 Widout some climbin stair. 
 
 De idee dat ou Lord would put 
 
 Us on a rollin ball, 
 An let us scramble to ou selves 
 
 Wid likelerhood to fall, 
 Am not de way to keep his own, 
 
 I does not tink, at all. 
 
 Ef dat be so, de Lord know when 
 
 De watahs ob de sea, 
 Might come a-swoopin all about 
 
 To swalla you an me; 
 An also would de Lord know whar 
 
 De res ob us would be? 
 
 I se gwine to tell you dis, my fren , 
 
 Dat settle all de case, 
 Dere am in ole Kentucky State 
 
 A mighty lastin place, 
 Dat all de movin ob de globe 
 
 Hab nebber yet deface . 
 
 De house hab stan dere fer a time 
 
 Dat you an me can t name, 
 An ef you goes dar you will fin 
 
 It s stan in jess de same. 
 I knows dis talk about de earf 
 
 Am all a bluffin game. 
 
VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Dat s so da ole house nebber could 
 Hab stuck on to de groun, 
 
 Per ebbery stone were loose an would 
 Be shu to tumble down, 
 
 Jess when dey reach de under side 
 As we gwine turnin roun . 
 
TRANSLATIONS 
 
 o 
 
 MARGUERITE. 
 
 [From the French of Madame Jenna.] 
 " IN the morning, Margaret, 
 When the fields with dews are wet, 
 Tell me, as you dreaming go, 
 And against the flowers below 
 Press you close your brow of snow ; 
 Tell me what unto the flower 
 You are whispering every hour?" 
 "This I whisper: Holy gift! 
 Broken from celestial rift, 
 BeautiCul and silent star; 
 Though thine odors reach afar, 
 Happier far than lot of thine 
 Is this happy lot of mine, 
 For I hold a heart divine ! 
 
 "What say you now, Margaret, 
 To the brook that murmurs yet. 
 And invites you to a seat 
 On its banks, where waters fleet 
 Hurry by with music sweet?" 
 
 "This I say: { O ribbon stream ! 
 Singing voice of living dream, 
 
VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 On whose crystal bosom shine 
 Reed, and bud of eglantine; 
 Willow branch, and insect bright, 
 Pictured there by ray of light, 
 Happier am I far than thou; 
 God with reason did endow 
 Her who speaketh to thee now ! )r 
 
 " What words now, my Margaret, 
 Say you to the birds that flit 
 From the village to the tree; 
 From these banks to foot-paths free? 
 Speak to them and then to me." 
 "All I say is, Faithful friends 
 Of mankind and flower, ye send 
 Out your wings in every place 
 With a quick and easy grace ; 
 All your song is free from sighs, 
 In your breasts no sorrows rise, 
 But more happy far than ye 
 I shall live eternally. " 
 
 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 [From the French.] 
 
 I. 
 
 DUST to dust, 
 Iron to rust, 
 
 Soon shall crumble and fall 
 Into mould and decay, 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 141 
 
 And vanish away, 
 Yea, all. 
 
 Blades of grass, 
 
 Pillars of brass, 
 Mountains of rugged rock, 
 Trees that grow high and tall, 
 Creatures both great and small 
 That walk 
 
 Or that fly, 
 
 Under the sky, 
 All shall wear into dust; 
 All shall dissolve the same, 
 Be what they may in name, 
 And rust. 
 
 Loved things here 
 
 Shall disappear, 
 And from our poor sense go; 
 Death around all the earth 
 Closely has drawn its girth 
 Of woe. 
 
 II. 
 
 Nothing that is shall cease to be, 
 Nothing through all eternity"; 
 Dust or iron, or birds that fly, 
 Nothing that liveth beneath the sky, 
 
 Blades of grass, 
 
 Pillars of brass : 
 All shall be that e er has been, 
 Somewhere, somehow, hid or seen; 
 Nothing shall die, though change is writ 
 Into life and over it. 
 
142 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 [From the French.] 
 
 AM I like those yellow leaves, cried I, 
 Which are falling to wither, and fade and die ? 
 Shall I crumble to dust like them, and stay 
 Only a part of the earth s decay? 
 
 And a voice deep within me did then reply, 
 "Man, why dost thou question thus? oh, why? 
 For know there is in thee a soul which must 
 Rise higher than earth, or death, or dust; 
 Tis an essence from God and ne er can it die, 
 Though the casket that holds it in clay shall lie. 
 
 GOD. 
 
 [From the French."! 
 
 OF God s eternity do all things tell. 
 If depths we see not, shall we them ignore? 
 All nature sings his never-ending power, 
 And, with its voicing heart, bids us adore. 
 
 THE SWEET NIGHTS. 
 
 [From the Spanish.] 
 SWEETLY the sweet nights come 
 And sweetly they go, 
 Like strains of some music, soft and low; 
 While outward we follow with senses numb, 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 143 
 
 We are going, we know, 
 But our voices are dumb; 
 And we never return, 
 Though the sweet nights come. 
 
 ARCANA. 
 
 [From the French.] 
 
 O PRETTY cheeks, whose dimples deep 
 Now in sweet pink nests snugly sleep, 
 Do but awaken, and your smile 
 Will every human heart beguile! 
 O beaming eyes! pray tell me why 
 In your dark orbs such myst ries lie ! 
 And tell me, too, ye red, red lips, 
 Your chapters of Apocalypse ! 
 o 
 
 APHORISM. 
 
 [French.] 
 
 HE who to live aright doth try, 
 Will live aright, and so will die. 
 o 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 TRUSTING the Lord 
 Thy faith will grow; 
 His will thy will shall be, 
 And thou shalt know, 
 Through every trial, every woe, 
 Full perfect peace below. 
 
KLORIDIANA. 
 
 [A Medley.] 
 
 FOR Mexico did lave 
 With her soft wave 
 
 Our prow; 
 
 While we, a jolly crew, 
 Who each the other knew, 
 Talked, sang, or read, 
 Then sank the lead, 
 To find how deep 
 Some waters sleep. 
 Sometimes we cast our eyes afar, 
 Over the waste of waters blue, 
 And saw there often what we knew 
 Would soon our peaceful sailing mar, 
 The nucleus of a squall, 
 Clouds large and dark, 
 Frowned on our bark, 
 In ominous threat of what us might befall. 
 And so we moved on toward the nearer shore, 
 Lest we the unknown farther need explore. 
 (144) 
 
FLORIDIANA. 145 
 
 Then no church bell 
 Would toll our knell! 
 How sad twould be for us to feel 
 That we had known the last of weal, 
 And that we all must give our lives, 
 For others who would take our wives, 
 And gobble up our real estate 
 As fish do gobble up the bait, 
 But find the hook, alas, too late ! 
 Now did our fattest man 
 Step to the bznk; 
 Gaily along he ran 
 Holding the frying pan, 
 Sign of his rank. 
 " Anchored at last," one said, 
 As he looked overhead 
 Into the sky, 
 
 Saying that the false wind 
 Had quickly changed its mind, 
 As women do, 
 To trouble brew. 
 This spake our Boston man, 
 Who bore a Southern tan, 
 This and some more, 
 Which to your ears, we may, 
 If you are willing, tell some day. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 \Dolce far niente.~\ 
 In style befitting 
 
 We were sitting 
 10 
 
146 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Under some waving trees, 
 
 While summer bees 
 
 Buzzed all about our ears, 
 
 And oft aroused our fears, 
 
 Yet did not deign to sting, 
 
 Or threaten anything. 
 
 Near by the streets with sand were filled, 
 
 Since Tampa s mayor had calmly willed 
 
 That he would ever let them be 
 
 Loose samples of antiquity. 
 
 Weary one day of idle ease, 
 
 Of sitting under shady trees, 
 
 We took advantage of the breeze, 
 
 And started up on Tampa s stream 
 
 In a small skiff, wherein a scheme 
 
 We set about to ventilate. 
 
 Far up the river, 
 
 Where tall reeds shiver, 
 
 And water-turkeys shake their sides; 
 
 Where alligators show their hides, 
 
 And other ugly things besides, 
 
 We took our way, floating along, 
 
 Like echoes of some merry song. 
 
 Bananas grew on every side, 
 
 Pine-apples sent their fragrance wide, 
 
 While the fair orange glistening from its tree 
 
 Was now a beauteous thing to see; 
 
 Now here and there a stately pair 
 
 Of palm trees kept each other company. 
 
 There the guava, with its slim white waist, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 147 
 
 Made us think how guavas taste, 
 
 And the odd mangrove whose strange roots are seen 
 
 As waters pass beneath them and between. 
 
 Twas up the Lockapopka stream 
 
 Where we were floating like a dream, 
 
 Restful but real, until we came 
 
 To one called Benjamin by name, 
 
 Who had a boat 
 
 That well could float 
 
 On any river or on sea, 
 
 With quite becoming dignity. 
 
 This did he aptly call the Pet, 
 
 Because its sides had oft been wet 
 
 With spray and foam, 
 
 When, tossing on the waters gay, 
 
 It courage kept, though far from home. 
 
 Many the time its helm was cast 
 
 Into the great and moving vast, 
 
 When creaking cord and straining mast 
 
 Could scarce resist the coming blast; 
 
 But the brave Pet 
 
 Continued yet, 
 
 And soon became a favorite. 
 
 But now she lay upon her side, 
 
 As some were painting her in colors gay, 
 
 That she might once more sail away. 
 
 Ah, what a sun shone out that day ! 
 
 So warm and bright, yet did not say, 
 " You must not work while I am out," 
 
 But kindly let us move about. 
 " Boys," cried out crafty Benjamin, 
 
148 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " This boat must be, as all can see, 
 
 Turned on her other side, 
 
 Else she may never ride 
 
 Proudly again on Mexico. 
 
 Twas sometime last year, nearer May, 
 
 That I, with father, sailed away 
 
 Down to Havana and the coast, 
 
 Where reefs are seen, and waters boast 
 
 That they can founder any boat 
 
 That tries upon their waves to float. 
 
 There this same/W did calmly sail, 
 
 Not heeding half the ocean s rail, 
 
 But sped and took us to the shore 
 
 We thought we d surely see no more." 
 
 Now made we bold 
 
 When this was told 
 
 To pull one mighty pull together, 
 
 Despite the hot and sunny weather. 
 "Ye ho! " cried Dexter, as he drew; 
 " Ye ho!" cried all the jolly crew, 
 
 So with the music and the muscle, 
 
 With all the groans and sweat and tussle, 
 
 Out came the JPef, showing where she 
 
 Had braved so well the angry sea. 
 
 At length we came to go, 
 
 As the red sun sank low, 
 
 And sent its rays up from the west 
 
 Where it was sinking down to rest, 
 
 For the earth was stained with a crimson light; 
 
 All the sky was scarlet and red and pink, 
 
 And the clouds were stranger than one can think, 
 
FLO RI DIANA. 149 
 
 While deepening colors threw below a shade, 
 
 Like beauty that appears as pictures fade. 
 
 Large blossoms scarcely waved along the shore, 
 
 Which shook with laughter just awhile before, 
 
 And lilies that were pure and white, 
 
 Now flushed with pleasure and delight; 
 
 And what long shadows fell behind the palms ! 
 
 Soon came we neath a cloud of green 
 
 Which faced the sky with royal mien; 
 
 Odors rich, sweet and strong, 
 
 Fell o er us as we moved along; 
 
 The jasmine with its pleasant smell, 
 
 Where bees and sunshine love to swell, 
 
 And oleanders that will give 
 
 Beauty and fragrance while they live; 
 
 Softly we moved, and thenwe sang, 
 
 First low 
 
 And slow, 
 
 Till all along 
 
 Music was echoed loud and strong. 
 
 Sunday came on, a day of rest, 
 Worthy to bear the name of blest, 
 And, in the eve, we took our way, 
 Some few, out toward the setting day, 
 Until we reached the humble church 
 That stood upon a rising perch 
 Of sand, higher than all the rest, 
 Clustered about, like to a nest, 
 With leaves and bushes overgrown, 
 And grasses which hda long been sownj 
 
150 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Rough, tumble steps led to a door 
 
 That opened out upon the floor, 
 
 And benches lay about, 
 
 Fashioned too rude and stout 
 
 To seat those used to easy-chairs. 
 
 A pulpit stretched from end to end, 
 
 And with the benches seemed to blend 
 
 In trying to be rough and plain, 
 
 Having no polish, nor a stain. 
 
 A Bible soiled, but holy still, 
 
 Lay, waiting, on the window sill, 
 
 While a few dusky people sat 
 
 Down on a round and braided mat. 
 
 Then others came, when soon along 
 
 Sat all about a mighty throng, 
 
 All shades of black or dusky hue, 
 
 Some light, but most to Ebon true. 
 
 Something is moving through the crowd, 
 
 And now, in accents rich and loud, 
 
 A voice read out: "Please sing dis hymn, 
 
 An cry it wid a pow ful vim." 
 
 And so a hundred negroes sang 
 
 And shouted, as the old church rang : 
 
 "Shout, oh! shout de glory song, 
 Doan delay but come along, 
 Fer de day am proachin fas 
 When dis earf will hab to pass 
 In one drefful, fiery mass*. 
 
 "An de moon will tu n to blood, 
 An de brooklet make a flood 
 
FLORIDIANA. 1 5 1 
 
 Swoopin bout us like de sea, 
 An den, sinnah, you an me, 
 Say, oh, whar, say whar ll we be? 
 
 " Oh ! dis yere will be de day 
 Fer de bad to fall away, 
 An de just will stan apart, 
 Waitin de comman to start 
 Whar we goes to nebber part. 
 
 " Glory, glory ! den we ll sing 
 All de day, 
 
 An de wicked, lazy lout 
 Dat can hardly walk about, 
 To de debbil mus he go 
 Mighty quick." 
 
 After the hymn, 
 When twilight dim 
 Took to racing 
 
 In the form of shadows weird, 
 Which increased the live oak s beard, 
 The lamps were lighted, 
 And the benighted 
 
 Heard loud the text, "Oh, mine is dine ;" 
 " Mine is dine ! " said the preacher, 
 The tall black teacher, 
 Who in his pulpit stood 
 To give his people food; 
 Who ever told them not to steal, 
 But always for their neighbors feel, 
 If ne er for melons. 
 "An mine is dine," he said, 
 
152 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "As you hab often read, 
 Oh! mine is dine, dear bredderen, 
 Oh ! dine, ah ! am mine, dear sisteren. 
 David, de son, de king, 
 He knows bout eberyting; 
 An yet he sin, dat man, 
 An say de Lord do fan 
 De niquity ob mine enemy. 
 Oh, ah, oh, ah, ah, oh ! 
 De Lord hab tol us so." 
 And so the preacher told, 
 Going from hot to cold 
 And cold to hot, 
 Trying to say what he could not, 
 Which same thing happens oft to others 
 Who preach in churches, O my brothers ! 
 Who wander from their texts so far away 
 They land at last into some boggy bay. 
 They tell of Heaven, and how we all may win it, 
 And preach upon it till there s nothing in it, 
 With Hebrew words, with dialects of Greek, 
 With every language but the one we speak, 
 And though they differ, being black or white, 
 They stand on common ground in needing light 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 [Non satis vivere, debemus bene vivere, } 
 
 Monday morning bright and early, 
 Without clouds and no one surly, 
 We did make and leave our couches, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 153 
 
 Get our guns and hunting pouches, 
 
 Fishing tackle and provisions, 
 
 Making manifold divisions, 
 
 For convenience and for pleasure, 
 
 In the coming days of leisure. 
 
 Bags full of bread, 
 
 Which some had said 
 
 Would more than feed 
 
 Ten times our need, 
 
 Went off on Sambo s shoulders 
 
 Like wondrous boulders, 
 
 And disappeared behind the trees, 
 
 Much as the fitful morning breeze. 
 
 Into the Pet they went, 
 
 While more were sent, 
 
 Blankets and sheets, 
 
 Fruits, wines, and meats, 
 
 Till Tampa stared in wild amaze, 
 
 And lengthened out her wondering gaze. 
 
 Into a store we took our way, 
 
 About the eighth hour of the day, 
 
 And there bought milk and flour, 
 
 And quantities of fruit that s sour, 
 
 Called grape fruit, and resembling much 
 
 Lemons, limes, oranges, and such; 
 
 In other words, as learned Southrons say, 
 
 Belonging to the citrus family. 
 
 Coffee we bought, 
 
 Because we thought 
 
 That it might be, out on the sea, 
 
 Better than tea, 
 
 V OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
154 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY 
 
 Though of the latter we did take 
 
 Enough for several times to make 
 
 A good strong cup, 
 
 That would steam up, 
 
 And make us taste it suddenly. 
 
 At last the boat was full, 
 
 When one did pull 
 
 Small, trembling ropes, 
 
 Like certain hopes 
 
 Soon followed by 
 
 Free open sails and pleasant sky. 
 
 Now was it time to go, when a slight blow 
 
 Helped us to speed away, 
 
 Out to the restless, moving bay. 
 
 And each had bought, before he left the shore, 
 
 A wide sombrero in some Tampa store, 
 
 So very wide the eye grew dim 
 
 Ere it had gazed across the brim. 
 
 Hilsboro left we in the rear, 
 
 As a small island that was near 
 
 Stretched its green body into view, 
 
 And glistened in the morning dew. 
 
 A gentle breath touched all the sea, 
 
 And rippled o er its waters free, 
 
 While from above the sunny light 
 
 Gladdened it into liquid bright. 
 
 As on the surface fast we glide 
 
 One looked from off our small ship s side, 
 
 Wondering no doubt how deep and blue 
 
 Were the soft waves we journeyed through 
 
 He wore a wide and Southern hat, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 155 
 
 Covering his person fair and fat ; 
 
 Eyes that were large and wondrous mild ; 
 
 Eyes which good-natured ere beguiled 
 
 Were his; while a full beard, 
 
 Light floating to his waist, now neared 
 
 As he bent forward and beneath 
 
 His high-crowned, wide Panama wreath. 
 
 Slightly stooped were his shoulders too, 
 
 While dark brown locks across them woo 
 
 The constant, cooling breeze 
 
 Which stirred them, as it did the trees. 
 
 A suit of dark he wore 
 
 Which often he had worn before, 
 
 And from his hat there swung about 
 
 A hempen cord of texture stout, 
 
 To keep it safe from falling out. 
 
 His pockets all were crowded full, 
 
 From household scrap to Popish bull, 
 
 With papers by the dozen, 
 
 Concerning priest and king and cousin; 
 
 Concerning house and home and cattle, 
 
 Or how to shake a baby s rattle, 
 
 All done in tidy little scrolls, 
 
 And fastened up in tissue rolls. 
 
 Much was there too about gastrology, 
 
 Not unto us a mere mythology, 
 
 But a real truth we felt each day, 
 
 As hunger proved us, on the way. 
 
 This was our right-hand man, 
 
 Who held the frying-pan, 
 
 Named for a season Dexter, 
 
156 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY, 
 
 For though he didn t come from Exter, 
 
 He loved the sea, 
 
 And reveled in hydrography. 
 
 Ohio was his native State, 
 
 Where many others who are great 
 
 By chance were, born, 
 
 And now adorn 
 
 That fair State s history. 
 
 It is a mystery 
 
 Why Dexter did not in his State remain, 
 
 And to the presidential chair attain, 
 
 But fate had willed it otherwise 
 
 She has her way beneath the skies 
 
 And soon our hero went to school, 
 
 There to learn o er the rigid rule 
 
 Of stern theology. 
 
 But when the noise of war broke out, 
 
 Brave Dexter followed in the route; 
 
 Through all the war he fought, until 
 
 The cannon s roar and smoke were still, 
 
 When he came back 
 
 With a haversack, 
 
 And a captain s legacy. 
 
 Busy upon a piece of bread 
 
 Sat he who always sank the lead; 
 
 Brown as a nut with tropic tan 
 
 Was he, the Texas laboring man, 
 
 With common sense, but hidden deep, 
 
 And almost always fast asleep, 
 
 So unto strangers it did not appear, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 157 
 
 But ever dawdled in the rear. 
 
 Though kind of heart, his form was coarse, 
 
 He slowly spoke in accent hoarse, 
 
 And drawled his words so very long 
 
 They ended in a dismal song. 
 
 Here sat he by an open box, 
 
 And watched it like a wily fox 
 
 Watches his game; 
 
 Twas a sesame 
 
 That gave him privilege to eat 
 
 Another piece of tempting meat. 
 
 Tabler was this, or Fiddle-diddle, 
 
 Or both, each was a riddle, 
 
 Than try to guess twere better far 
 
 To leave one s fortune to a star. 
 
 Quite tall he was, his legs were short, 
 
 He used them as a last resort, 
 
 As though the will that moved the rest 
 
 Had left them, at their own request, 
 
 To follow when they felt inclined, 
 
 Or, if they wished, to stay behind. 
 
 This gave them then a paddling gait 
 
 That often made their owner late. 
 
 Now Tabler s hands were large and rough, 
 
 His arms were strong, his sinews tough ; 
 
 His neck was surely long enough. 
 
 His head a shock of hair did own 
 
 That looked as if some wind had blown 
 
 It in a pyramid; 
 
 But this was only his wife s style 
 
 Of combing it, well fixed with "ile," 
 
158 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 A somber, solemn, cranial pile, 
 On which a hat did calmly rest, 
 Obedient to its lord s behest. 
 
 " Wai," and he swallowed with a gulp, 
 A wondrous piece of orange pulp, 
 
 " I reckon this yere sea is calm, 
 And runs as easy as a psalm. 
 We re movin far out- on the bay, 
 It will not take us half a day 
 Before our boat will almost be 
 Touching upon the old Long Quay, 
 That s quite a distance out at sea." 
 At this remark our little bark 
 Rushed through the water faster still, 
 And set to work with earnest will. 
 Contented Tabler, with one wayward eye, 
 Looked up into the cloudless sky, 
 But^vith the other gazed not there, 
 For his two eyes were not a pair ; 
 One, ever faithful to his Texas home, 
 Looked back, wherever he might roam. 
 
 The captain s name was Benjamin, 
 
 A crafty lad was he ; 
 
 He owned the boat, and manned it well; 
 
 He understood the sea. 
 
 His form was good, his face was smooth, 
 
 His moustache long and red. 
 
 He said 
 
 He came from Nebraska, 
 
 Where he was born and bred, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 1 59 
 
 And told of startling deeds in which 
 
 He figured as the head. 
 
 His voice was pleasing to the ear, 
 
 And if he would he might 
 
 Speak either like a scientist, 
 
 Or as a trifler light. 
 
 So Benjamin would tell us all, 
 
 If good or bad or great or small, 
 
 About the land, the sea, the sky, 
 
 Or any fish we might descry; 
 
 About the winds, or how to sail; 
 
 About the gull, or water rail; 
 
 Here point to some outlying isle, 
 
 Or there to many a coral pile, 
 
 And thus our leisure hours beguile. 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir," said a mellow voice, 
 It was the helmsman one by choice 
 Who, though our equal partner in the yachting trip, 
 Was loth to let such an opportunity slip 
 As he had to learn the ways of a ship. 
 So the captain he 
 For the time made free, 
 To use him as his own guarantee. 
 Blue were his eyes, and his face was fair, 
 W r hile into his heart not even a care 
 Had discovered the way up its golden stair. 
 Not a wrinkle and not a line 
 On his face; it was soft and fine, 
 Expressing its workmanship divine. 
 He came from a land where frost and snow 
 
160 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Fall from the clouds to the earth below, 
 
 And cover it all in a robe of white, 
 
 With glittering diamonds small and bright; 
 
 Where the birch and maple in gladness grow, 
 
 Where all the Canada thistles blow; 
 
 But his heart was as warm as a tropic sun 
 
 When its daily journey is not half done; 
 
 Of malice or hatred his heart had none. 
 
 But why did he not remain 
 
 In his home so far away? 
 
 Why did he seek the main 
 
 To ride through its spray? 
 
 This is what we said, but his head 
 
 He shook in a doubtful way, 
 
 Meaning you all shall know 
 
 Why I came, another day. 
 
 I believe in the rule of a president, 
 
 And not in the reign of a king: 
 
 In my country they all believe 
 
 Just the other thing. 
 
 Last but not least came Pennirnan, 
 
 Who sat not far away, 
 
 In a study brown, and his form was held 
 
 In a suit of iron gray. 
 
 He looked ever ready in rnood and mien 
 
 For some wild affray. 
 
 Into the war he had been, like a man, to fight; 
 
 Out of it all he came with wounds that were slight, 
 
 But it left on his cheek an impress deep, 
 
 Coming and going like shepherdless sheep. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 161 
 
 In his every act 
 
 We could see the fact, 
 
 For he seemed to be fighting over again, 
 
 Or planning for life a silent campaign; 
 
 And over his spirits there seemed to fall 
 
 Sometimes a deep cloud like a funeral pall, 
 
 But often the sun would shine through it all. 
 
 He was a Yankee, and believed 
 
 The Constitution through, 
 
 And on his heart its very laws 
 
 In living letters grew; 
 
 And if you lauded Uncle Sam 
 
 He was at once with you. 
 
 A traveler was he o er the globe, 
 
 A traveler whom we could not probe; 
 
 No matter what we asked or told 
 
 He never would himself unfold. 
 
 And more than this he would not tell: 
 
 In Boston, where he used to dwell, 
 
 He left his wife a pretty belle 
 
 Because she always dressed too well. 
 
 Down into the great wide sea 
 The red sun sank to rest, 
 Sending its soft light far and free, 
 Tinging the wave to its very crest; 
 This was the sun s farewell, for he 
 Was taking our daylight into the West. 
 And the shades of night, 
 In ecstatic delight, 
 Gathered upon the silent shore, 
 ii 
 
1 62 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 To worship their sweet goddess and adore. 
 
 Deeper and darker the waters grew, 
 
 For before us and o er us 
 
 The curtains of night 
 
 Had hidden the sun and shut out its light. 
 "Whar are we now?" said Tabler, 
 
 As he rubbed his willful eye, 
 My pinion is we re movin 
 
 Jes as fast as we can fly, 
 
 And I speck we re goin outwards 
 
 Like a Neptune on the sea; 
 
 Though I m not afraid of water, 
 
 I think now perhaps we d orter 
 
 Betake ourselv.es to land, 
 
 But whar and how to git thar 
 
 I do rfot understand. 
 
 Accordin to my own idee 
 
 I reckon that it s time for tea, 
 
 For one poor meal a day can t keep 
 
 A man alive unless he s sleep." 
 All right, then, general," cried the captain quick, 
 "You are a daisy and a brick; 
 
 Steady the helm; 
 
 Just see that all is right, 
 
 And I will see you into port before the moon is bright." 
 "Aye, aye, sir, your commands I hear, 
 
 Just shift the sails and I will steer." 
 
 So in we came between two islands dark, 
 
 Which stood like guards on either side our bark, 
 
 While through the trees we caught the shimmering light 
 
 Of a now rising moon so pale and white. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 163 
 
 Higher and higher fair Luna pushed her way 
 Into the gladdened sky; 
 Larger and larger grew the ray, 
 Till by and by 
 
 It covered all the heaven with light 
 And such, in Florida, is night. 
 Up to the very shore we took our Pet, 
 And landed without getting wet. 
 Meanwhile the captain fixed the sails, 
 Dipped out the water with the pails, 
 Spread up the canopy a sheet, 
 And made it look so nice and neat, 
 A very little home complete. 
 "Out with provisions, we shall have a fire 
 That will with heartiness inspire 
 Us all and each to one desire, 
 And this to make a fragrant cup 
 Of coffee strong, and drink it up." 
 One took some boxes from the bark, 
 Another kindled with a spark 
 Upon the sand, a cheery fire, 
 That soon created havoc dire 
 Among the branches that were brought, 
 Of mangrove roots and gnarled oak knot, 
 With which the shore was strewn about 
 An army for the sea to rout. 
 Upon the hard white beach we sat; 
 No Persian prince had better mat 
 In all his palace than was that. 
 Now in the frying-pan there went 
 Some savory meat, of which the scent 
 
1 64 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 And kindly flavor almost made 
 
 It very subject to a raid. 
 
 "Have patience, Tabler, do not fret; 
 
 The supper is not ready yet; 
 
 It will be, soon as we can get 
 
 The bacon fried, the coffee boiled, 
 
 The wild meat done and nicely broiled. 
 
 We re getting things upon the table, 
 
 And just the minute we are able 
 
 We shall sit down to such a feast 
 
 As ne er was served to man or beast." 
 
 So spake the cook; the kettle in assent 
 
 Hummed o er that song that makes all men content. 
 
 And seemed in making good cheer all intent. 
 
 "This makes me think," said Penniman, 
 As he stirred up the frying-pan, 
 That sputtered loud as such things can, 
 
 "This makes me think of islands of the sea, 
 Such islands as, for instance, Hawaii, 
 Where, covered with tall palms as here there be, 
 The natives do, some tranquil night, 
 Disport themselves in rare delight, 
 Making, as we have made, a fire upon the beach, 
 But leaving, as we shall not leave, some bones to bleach- 
 At any rate I hope we may not leave our own, 
 Or any which the ghost of man could own." 
 
 Round the fire now all were seated, 
 Each one served and no one cheated; 
 First came bread and then came butter, 
 Ham and eggs with noisy splutter 
 
FLORIDIANA. 165 
 
 Hard-tack biscuits soaked in water; 
 
 A broiled goose, twas Dexter shot her 
 
 With his little short revolver. 
 
 In the coffee found we pleasure, 
 
 And we drank our cup s full measure; 
 
 Thus we drank in days of leisure. 
 
 Then the dishes cleared away, 
 
 By the fire we snugly lay, 
 
 Planning for another day. 
 
 Into the air bright sparks were kindled, 
 
 Upward they went until they dwindled, 
 
 Dwindled, dwindled, dwindled, and dwindled, 
 
 Falling at last to earth in a cinder, 
 
 Only a blackened, crisped-up tinder. 
 
 How like some men, and we thought as we wondered, 
 
 Who, starting right, have afterwards blundered, 
 
 And fallen to earth as anathemas thundered, 
 
 Or like some others who in honor have started, 
 
 Meeting with insult from which they have smarted, 
 
 Lost all their courage while glory departed. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 
 
 "Listen, my comrades, while I tell," 
 
 Cried Benjamin, our captain gay, 
 "And give attention, if your thoughts 
 
 Are not employed another way. 
 
 " For as you sit around the fire, 
 
 And look each other in the face, 
 Thinking about the homes you left, 
 
 Your wondrous change of scene and place, 
 
1 66 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "It may be well to think upon 
 
 Things that transpired long years ago, 
 From the far North, and up the coast, 
 Down to the Everglades below. 
 
 "Through all the land blood-guilty Spain, 
 
 Discovering Florida, had made, 
 Upon the tribes who owned it all, 
 Many a wrong and shameful raid. 
 
 "Boasting of a religion which, 
 
 They held, from God and truth came down. 
 They with it hid their lawless deeds, 
 And feared not either curse or frown. 
 
 " Well known to history and the world 
 
 Are all the wicked acts of Spain, 
 And the revenge of angry wrath 
 
 Which quickly followed in their train. 
 
 " If noble Ponce de Leon found 
 
 The holy waters that he sought, 
 His followers, in the after years, 
 
 The bitter streams of Marah brought. 
 
 "They lifted high their standard here, 
 
 Not asking even right to come, 
 And treated all the wondering tribes 
 As heartless creatures, blind and dumb. 
 
 "While carnage reigned, and blood was shed 
 
 Out to this islet lone, there came 
 A solitary monk, who sought 
 
 The holy joy of peace not fame. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 167 
 
 "It was a maiden, and her form 
 
 Was wrapped in deep and safe disguise; 
 Her locks, though short, were dark and soft, 
 And heaven s blue shone in^her eyes. 
 
 " Fame had she left on that far shore 
 
 To which she never would return ; 
 
 In her white bosom, deep, there lay 
 
 The spark of what had ceased to burn, 
 
 "A mighty love that once had filled 
 
 The very soul of her who now 
 Was wearing, with a patient grace, 
 Its stinging thorns upon her brow. 
 
 " Valencia and Alcoy, 
 
 Castellon of the mighty plain 
 To all she bade a sad adieu 
 
 And vowed she ne er would see again. 
 
 " She entered in her forest home, 
 
 With priestly gown and mournful hood; 
 No one was there to help her build 
 Her house of thatch and rustic wood. 
 
 "For food she caught the rabbit shy, 
 
 And took the tender cabbage palm; 
 But many hours she whiled away 
 In penance and in prayerful psalm. 
 
 "The years sped by, but still this monk 
 
 E er faithful to her island was ; 
 In other lands new kings were made, 
 And ruled with ever-changing laws. 
 
1 68 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "Here she became a friend to all, 
 
 The Indians flocked from far around 
 To ask for medicine, and have 
 
 Their wounds and painful lesions bound. 
 
 "The pale-face daughter, was she called, 
 Whom the Great Spirit loved so well, 
 But whence she came or how she lived 
 Not e en the Indian could tell. 
 
 "She gave the islands near her own 
 
 The very names this day they bear, 
 And drew upon a parchment white, 
 In careful writing, fine and fair, 
 
 "A map of her environs each, 
 
 With islets dotted here and there, 
 
 Their rivers and their lakes and bays, 
 Put down with all a woman s care. 
 
 "Just north of us is Egmont s Key, 
 
 Covered with mangrove trees and palm; 
 There Esperitu Santo, where 
 The sailors find it ever calm. 
 
 " She named sweet Sara Sota Bay, 
 
 Whose waters wash so many isles, 
 And all the narrow straits where pass 
 The rushing waters in their wiles. 
 
 "Tis said she spoke the Indian tongues, 
 
 And taught the tribes deep in the Word; 
 While Christian peace came down to those 
 Who listened and who gladly heard. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 169 
 
 < And thus her influence did spread 
 
 Until it reached o er all the land, 
 Till Tlathopopkahatchee came 
 
 To tribute pay with his own hand. 
 
 " Name all your lakes, the priestess said, 
 
 After your good men as they die, 
 So they may have a record here, 
 As well as records up on high. 
 
 "And so the chief went gladly back 
 
 And named his own possessions all. 
 The names of which we now may know 
 If yet we may not each recall. 
 
 " Thonolosassa, for a lake; 
 
 With la Koochee, Hickpochee; 
 Choconicla, Ocklawaha 
 And old Olia kon konhee. 
 
 "Long after, when the chief returned, 
 The maid was on the isle no more; 
 Silence was round the hamlet stood 
 Deep hid with vines and clustered o er. 
 
 " Loud called the chief, no answer came, 
 
 The forest echoed back the sound, 
 While its reverberations rolled 
 
 On through the islands far around. 
 
 " As Tlathopopkahatchee took 
 
 His homeward way, by chance he found, 
 Well hidden under mossy oaks 
 
 In the deep wood, a lonely mound ; 
 
i/o VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " And, bending o er the wooden slab, 
 
 He read the name of her who taught 
 Him how to read; who left those truths 
 Nor gold nor treasure could have bought. 
 
 " Her name was Anna Maria, 
 
 The same this pleasant island bears; 
 Her grave is here, not far away; 
 Let him disturb her rest who dares. 
 
 " From Nassau to Monroe and Bade, 
 
 Where er an Indian you see, 
 Speak only this poor maiden s name, 
 And he will to you friendly be. 
 
 " Her history all is known to them, 
 
 Unknown to us. Her plighted love 
 Is oft the theme for Indian tales, 
 
 And, speaking, they will point above. 
 
 "Tis growing late, you must not wait; 
 I ve told you quite enough to-night, 
 And though the moon is shining bright, 
 She may before long take her flight, 
 And leave us all in such a plight, 
 Out of the boat without a light." 
 
 "A word before we go," 
 Said Penniman the wise, 
 
 "Where shall we travel to when next 
 The sun does o er our visage rise?" 
 
 To-morrow of to-morrow will 
 Take the best care I think; 
 Let Nature for itself look out, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 171 
 
 So said the bobolink," 
 
 And so said Tabler, with a sleepy bow 
 
 As wisely as his tongue knew how. 
 
 Dexter lay stretched out on the sand, 
 
 His head upon a log, 
 
 An easy pillow, one by which 
 
 The rest were kept agog, 
 
 To know if all this mist of sleep 
 
 Were nothing but a fog. 
 
 Often the eyes of one would blink, 
 
 And sometimes on his breast would sink 
 
 His weary head, 
 
 While everybody thought twas time 
 
 For all to go to bed. 
 
 So now into our boat we went, 
 With hearts brimful of sweet content, 
 While under the fair firmament 
 The blankets were spread, 
 Our prayers were all said, 
 We jumped into bed 
 And covered our head. 
 
 VOICES. 
 
 Good-night, good-night, 
 
 Sweet people all, 
 
 The darkness deep begins to fall; 
 
 Sleep fast and do not wake till morn, 
 
 When Gabriel blows his merry horn, 
 
 And daylight shall again be born. 
 
 Fairies then again shall flee 
 
i/2 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Back into the moving sea. 
 
 Sleep on then all till morning light, 
 
 Good-night, good-night, good-night, good-night. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 The night had gone, 
 A rising dawn 
 
 Fell softly over land and sea; 
 While one awoke, 
 And silence broke 
 By calling out vehemently: 
 " Wake up ! wake up ! the sun is high, 
 We must be moving by and by, 
 And ere we sail out from the shore, 
 We should our beauteous isle explore." 
 Breakfast well over, down a path 
 Now covered with an aftermath, 
 We slowly moved with careful eye 
 So game or relics we should spy, 
 Through varied woods of oak and balm, 
 Of bay tree and of cabbage palm, 
 As over all a floor of green was spread, 
 On which might fairy princes tread 
 W T hen they held merry matins overhead. 
 Across the path many a tree clasped hands, 
 Vowing eternal friendship; while with bands 
 Of bamboo and of grape their oath s demands 
 Sacred were made. 
 More narrow grew the winding way, 
 And neath the tangled vines that lay 
 
FLORIDIANA. 173 
 
 At its far end stretched all around, 
 Anna Maria s grave we found. 
 The wooden slab was there no more, 
 A simple cross of oak instead, 
 While underneath her name was read 
 And not a single word we said. " 
 Tabler did now the silence break, 
 And from his reverie awake; 
 As tears stood in one pensive eye, 
 He lifted up his head on high 
 To show the other was not dry. 
 With great surprise, we all began 
 To wonder how our Texas -man 
 Had now discovered cause for grief, 
 And called these tears to his relief. 
 Waal," said he as he wiped his eyes 
 And brushed his bedimmed vision clear, 
 I will declar , I shed a tear, 
 Which doesn t happen onc t a year, 
 And why it has don t now appear. 
 This ain t no time to make excuse, 
 And twouldn t be no kind of use, 
 For you can see it aint my style 
 To be a cryin like a chile. 
 For when I lets my feelin s out, 
 Tis cause they re pushed by suthin stout, 
 That won t recede or turn about; 
 Jes as them waves swells on the sea, 
 And rush and heave toward you and me; 
 Jes as the boomin hurricane 
 Flies swoopin o er the level plain; 
 
i;4 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Jes as clouds comes into the sky 
 And brings the rain-drops, by and by; 
 Jes so them ere tears starts to fall, 
 And why I cannot tell at all. 
 I specks there s suthin moves the whole, 
 That makes the water toss and roll, 
 That tells the wind blow strong and loud, 
 And presses rain-drops from the cloud. 
 So then my fren s there suthin here 
 That axed my fountain for a tear." 
 
 "I m glad your fountain is not dry," 
 Said Penniman, in slow reply, 
 
 " For such things empty often are 
 In men who travel long and far, 
 Especially if they go West 
 And in dry land their means invest. 
 They find then, but, alas! too late, 
 They need their tears to irrigate; 
 
 , No other water far or near 
 Falls on their acres save a- tear. 
 Oft too their wives will help to shed- 
 Poor women from an aching head, 
 Tears till their eyes are swollen red. 
 Tis a good sign, my friend, that you 
 Have well preserved some youthful dew, 
 For had you wept o er Texas land 
 And watered Matagorda sand, 
 Your springing well, with hollow sound, 
 Would at your earnest call resound." 
 
 "Thanks, mister, you are very kind; 
 I ll tell you, if you do not mind, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 175 
 
 That not a drop is left behind. 
 My Texas ranch wan t worth a tear, 
 If it did cost me mighty dear 
 But now I specks we better steer." 
 Nearly the day we spent a long, bright day, 
 Whose gleams were moving to the west away; 
 Much had we seen and gathered from the isle, 
 Much to remember and our thoughts beguile, 
 When, in the after years some future time 
 We came in memory to this sunny clime. 
 But shadows, like grim ghosts on hands and knees, 
 Crept hovering ever toward the mossy trees, . 
 Stole up their trunks, and, in a spreading cloud, 
 Hung down a floating drapery of shroud. 
 Swift from the flowers, where all day long they fed, 
 The humming bees in anxious hurry sped; 
 Night birds came out, and owl, with hoot and screech, 
 Hysteric laughter made from oak and beech; 
 Like hay-field music was the locusts song, 
 That sounded from the tree-tops all along. 
 Then up from the island there suddenly rose 
 A thunder of groanings and puffings and blows, 
 Like a very earthquake under one s nose. 
 Ho! for the frogs their band was now playing, 
 Listen! the leader his notes is conveying. 
 Oh! what a concert we had without paying! 
 For out of the swamp a thousand frogs sang, 
 Both large ones and small ones with guttural twang : 
 "We re a gang, a gang, we re a noisy gang." 
 Better by far than many a choir, 
 That ? seated up somewhere under some spire, 
 
176 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Are never contented but looking up higher; 
 
 Playing and singing according to note ; 
 
 Very much too by rule and by rote-, 
 
 Taking a license and trying to float 
 
 Each his own voice through the atmosphere thick, 
 
 Bass sounding deep like the fall of a brick, 
 
 Tenor falsetto, and fearfully quick 
 
 Save me, I pray, for the thought makes me sick. 
 
 Though every ray of light had gone, 
 And night its heavy curtains drawn, 
 We stood and listened to each charming sound, 
 Which made sweet music through the forest round. 
 "But let us go," at length one of us said, 
 "Or we may not till morning find our bed. 
 The way is long and narrow if the isle be small, 
 Tis easy to be lost here after all, 
 And for a night in this dark wilderness 
 I am not longing, I confess." 
 We started then in a jolly trot, 
 And our feet flew fast, for we surely thought 
 Of a supperless night and an empty cot, 
 Of snakes and of panthers, of scorpions too. 
 Oh, what in the world should we ever do ? 
 At last came we to a wonderful end, 
 Where the path and forest seemed to blend, 
 And into a mystery of limbs extend. 
 There were limbs above and limbs down below, 
 And limbs where they never ought to grow, 
 For they crossed and twisted in close embrace 
 Twas a very mysterious sort of place. 
 No matches had we in our marvelous luck; 
 
FLORIDIANA. 
 
 177 
 
 In the jungle and darkness we firmly were stuck; 
 
 And we scrambled through thicket, o er bramble and bush , 
 
 With effort determined, with pull and with push. 
 
 "Now, boys," cried out Dexter, "in our first camisade 
 We must keep well together, or out of the raid 
 Someone will be lost, I am now much afraid. 
 There s no telling what things lie under these branches, 
 As ugly and fierce as the thirsty Comanches; 
 For I think this strange place with beasts is infested, 
 And the trees feel like mangroves long grown unmolested. 
 
 " Hello, thar! hello, thar! I say thar hello!" 
 Was a sound that came up from some puddle below; 
 
 "I m down on my back and fast in the mud," 
 So Tabler exclaimed as he fell with a thud. 
 
 "We are coming," we shouted, " but where do you lie," 
 And the thought came upon us, if Tabler should die 
 Before we his shape in the darkness can spy. 
 All the while he was sitting and scraping his clothes, 
 For Tabler was quick, as this incident shows. 
 
 "Are you up?" and we laughed, restraining our mirth, 
 
 "Are you out of the mud and up from the earth?" 
 But in process of cleaning ne er Tabler would deign 
 To answer our questions so asked we in vain. 
 
 Now came the rain-drops pattering loud, 
 New offspring of some pregnant cloud, 
 On shrub it fell, on leaf, and frond, 
 Or back into the jealous pond, 
 Which, full and almost flowing o er, 
 Begs from the clouds for more and more. 
 Another cloud, in strange delight, 
 
 12 
 
i/8 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Scatters Jove s bolts throughout the night, 
 
 Paling the heavens into fright, 
 
 While angry thunder s pealing roar 
 
 Rolls and resounds along the shore 
 
 Twas a Florida storm and nothing more.. 
 
 But we saw through the flash and the blaze 
 
 We had stumbled along to a mangrove maze, 
 
 And were lost in the midst of its intricate ways. 
 
 Up high on a limb 
 
 Sat the form of him 
 
 Whose chances for drying were wofully slim; 
 
 And he looked in the light 
 
 Like a goblin sprite 
 
 Who might be around upon such a night. 
 
 Soaking and wet, 
 
 So far from the Pet, 
 
 By light all electric we huddled together, 
 
 A lot of poor travelers, deep under the weather; 
 
 And clustered about round the trunk of a tree, 
 
 Adown which were running the waters so free, 
 
 We shivered and wished we were having our tea. 
 
 Down came the rain, and boom went the thunder, 
 
 Crash fell a tree, with its limbs split asunder, 
 
 And the swamp shuddered in turn, and no wonder ! 
 
 While the storm roared and never relented, 
 
 Raging and groaning like mmhood demented, 
 
 Worse than King Lear when he cried and lamented. 
 
 We slept, I suppose, 
 
 For through somebody s nose 
 
 Came a story of woes. 
 
 Once or twice Dexter woke, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 179 
 
 And in dream voice he spoke, 
 
 For he thought we were sailing 
 
 With high winds prevailing; 
 
 As he asked who was bailing 
 
 We gave him a poke, 
 
 And so in a trice thus ended the joke. 
 
 At last fair Aurora, with glistening eye, 
 
 Sant a glimmer of daybreak athwart thro the sky, 
 
 While we moved with the shadows and out of the marsh? 
 
 Resenting our treatment as cruel and harsh. 
 
 Chilly and wet and shivering too, 
 
 Moved our sad and hungry crew, 
 
 As the mocking gay curlew, 
 
 Shrieking out, " How do you do? " 
 
 High above our bowed heads, flew. 
 
 Upon the beach quite unabashed 
 
 Great waves in restless motion dashed, 
 
 And pushed and tumbled o er and o er, 
 
 With noise incessant and with roar, 
 
 While in the east the morning sun 
 
 Called for his steed, that had begun 
 
 To fret and worry, wondering why 
 
 They were not riding through the sky. 
 
 With royal mien fair Helios took 
 
 His chariot seat, as shades forsook 
 
 His path, and hid in some recess 
 
 Of sombrous cloud or wilderness; 
 
 Glanced from the wheels rays warm and bright, 
 
 And soon sent out the dark of night. 
 
 All clouds were gone, an open sky 
 
i So VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Stretched o er our heads so grand and high 
 We only wished our clothes were dry. 
 Wishes we knew would not avail, 
 Actions alone could aught prevail, 
 And so with pluck quite wondrous, we 
 Made a good fire to steep our tea, 
 And in one hour were out at sea. 
 Spent was the anger of the wind, 
 And though it blew its touch was kind; 
 It filled the sail and gave us speed, 
 Then passed along, not giving heed 
 To what the grumbling ocean said, 
 Though from its sleep and quiet bed, 
 The night before,* the wind had pitched 
 The great sea out, almost bewitched; 
 But soon it woke, and white with rage 
 Demanded fierce a war to wage, 
 Fumed, roared, and called upon the rain 
 To aid the cause, nor called in vain. 
 Thus had hj felt through all the night 
 The wrestlings of that dreadful fight. 
 Bat now the wind of a forgiving mind 
 Had left its wrath in some deep cave behind, 
 And touched the sea, now here and there, 
 With quite a vain and jaunty air. 
 Deep as the ocean is, its wrath was deep, 
 It would not hear of rest or sleep, 
 But long did a resentful spirit keep. 
 Wave after wave our little Pet 
 With lightsome bound all eager met, 
 Making a feather of the load 
 
FLORIDIANA. . 18 1 
 
 It bore so bravely as we rode. 
 "Now, boys," said Benjamin, "to-day 
 I think some fish will be at play 
 Or work, it matters not if we 
 Can only view them well, and see. 
 Southeast we sail out toward some islands small, 
 And though they be not named I know them all. 
 Beauties they are, small gems of lovely green, 
 Covered with palms of graceful mien, 
 And quite surrounded by a snow-white beach 
 That has upon it shells for Sol to bleach. 
 These isles would be the very soul s delight 
 Of some poor monk or anchorite, 
 Or one who, tired of vain applause, 
 Has left the world to study Nature s laws. 
 But look here, lads, there goes a school 
 Of tempting mullet : see them fool 
 About the boat ; I wish we might 
 Have a good meal out of the sight. 
 They all are fat and taste right smart 
 To any man who eats a part. 
 See! there s a skipper riding fast, 
 His tail the rudder, and himself the mast!" 
 All day, to some sight entertained, 
 We viewed and each in wisdom gained; 
 Saw porpoise ploughing through the wave, 
 Their large, mild eyes so sad and grave, 
 Asking for food we quickly gave; 
 And flying fish with finny wings 
 Such strange, eccentric little things ! 
 And sharks whose ugly dorsal fin 
 
1 82 - VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Cropped out like some vain-glorious sin 
 
 That e er is out, and ne er will in; 
 
 And water- snakes; and turtles large 
 
 That moved along like some vast barge 
 
 With ponderous load and heavy charge. 
 
 Ah ! what a host of herrings small ; 
 
 Of things that were not fish at all, 
 
 Of sailing shells, anemones, 
 
 And other things brought by the breeze, 
 
 Till night drew on and found us where 
 
 We could approach without a care 
 
 Near to the mainland, whose wide shore 
 
 Was strewn with coral, shells, and ore. 
 
 Back was a forest, dense and deep, 
 
 In which scarce daylight dared to peep, 
 
 But looked at dusk, like some abattis made 
 
 To guard a fortress or resist a raid. 
 
 After our supper, after night fell down, 
 
 As each one lay wrapped in a study brown, 
 
 There rose from out the sea a little arc, 
 
 A tiny speck of white, a silver bark, 
 
 A pretty sight to see just after dark. 
 
 But soon it turned to be a crescent fair, 
 
 Such as may oft be seen most anywhere. 
 
 Slowly the orb rose upward, as a beam, 
 
 Glanced down to meet the up-reflected gleam, 
 
 From which embrace sprang offspring clear and bright- 
 
 A golden line that trembling path of light 
 
 In which the fairies travel after night 
 
 They come in thousands thro the moonlit ray, 
 
 Down to our earth, but ne er forget do they, 
 
FLORIDIANA. 183 
 
 When Morning s path is made, to go away 
 
 Of this was thinking Dexter as he lay. 
 
 " Now," said he to the rest, "if you desire, 
 
 I with a tale will you sweet thoughts inspire, 
 
 And tell you what I read long years ago, 
 
 If true or not, I say I do not know. 
 
 Not far from here, for so the legends say, 
 
 On an indented island in our bay, 
 
 Was treasure hid by some wild buccaneer 
 
 No date is given to us, and no year 
 
 Before old Chronos reigned it was, I fear; 
 
 So prick your ears to what I now shall tell, 
 
 And wake you up, and listen well. 
 
 VIOLA S CHARM. 
 
 "Tis told that centuries ago 
 
 There lived in Spain a lady rich, 
 And whoe er did her beauty know 
 
 Felt its deep power their souls bewitch. 
 
 " Not only wealth in house and gold, 
 
 But wealth in form had she as well ; 
 What charms were hers, though often told, 
 Twas said no human tongue could tell. 
 
 "Among a score of suitors, there 
 
 Were only two the maid received, 
 And of the two she most did care 
 For bold Andrino, all believed. 
 
 "Though Don Fernando often came 
 And often saw the lady, too, 
 
184 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 The question was to win the dame 
 
 Who would, and which the damsel woo. 
 
 " True twas, Viola loved but one 
 
 Of the gay courtiers who did pay 
 Their kind attentions, now begun 
 And growing bolder day by day. 
 
 "And he, Fernando was, a youth 
 
 To whom she gave her heart and hand, 
 But whom in combat, for a truth, 
 Could not his rival well withstand. 
 
 "Viola feared Andrino s rage 
 
 No less than his more steady blade; 
 But time his passion will assuage, 
 Declared the eager, loving maid! 
 
 "Yet as time sped and months flew by, 
 
 The knight his love told ever on, 
 Nor wearied he; but well did ply 
 His suit till eve from early dawn. 
 
 " One balmy day Viola felt 
 
 She could not wait much longer now, 
 And told Fernando, as he knelt, 
 Of her own feelings deep, and how 
 
 "She hoped and waited, trusting he, 
 
 Fernando s rival, soon would cease 
 To seek or love her, so that she 
 Could marry her true love in peace. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 185 
 
 " But now to longer wait were vain: 
 
 She had a plan she would unfold; 
 And though the thought did give her pain, 
 Twas needful that it soon be told. 
 
 " And ere she told, her lover made 
 
 A promise of deep secrecy, 
 Till all their plans matured as laid 
 Had worked out their conspiracy. 
 
 "In that far country of the West, 
 The guilty maiden thus began, 
 Is hidden treasure a bequest 
 Unknown since years to any man. 
 
 " "Tis buried in some obscure isle; 
 
 The will lies hidden with the gold, 
 And grants to him the precious pile 
 Who seeks and finds it in the mould. 
 
 " Placed there it was by father s sire, 
 
 Panfilo de Narvaez, brave, 
 Whose valiant deeds do yet inspire 
 To works of good and acts that save. 
 
 " He to my father left a charm 
 
 By which the island might be found, 
 
 As e en the spot where strength of arm 
 
 Must seek the treasure underground. 
 
 " This charm has lain in disregard, 
 
 And is a useless thing to me; 
 So now, Fernando, do thou guard 
 It as my offering to thee. 
 
1 86 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " For it will give thee, more than gold, 
 
 Possession of my face and form ; 
 Of graces which shall yet unfold 
 From out a bosom true and warm. 
 
 " And I will Don Andrino tell 
 
 Of this my plan that thou and he 
 To our dear Spain bid short farewell, 
 And sail across the mighty sea. 
 
 " Find in our country far away 
 
 (What thou hast aid to easy find), 
 And, coming back that very day, 
 Viola claim with tranquil mind. 
 
 " Go, tell your rival that I will 
 
 He come with thee to-morrow eve, 
 Where, in our garden cool and still, 
 I may his mind- and ours relieve. 
 
 "Thus spoke the damsel as she left 
 
 In Don Fernando s hand the charm 
 Which he, with senses nigh bereft, 
 Closed down upon in quick alarm. 
 
 "A craven fear filled all his soul, 
 
 And, trembling now in every limb, 
 He knew guilt, like some midnight ghoul, 
 Was surely creeping over him, 
 
 " The morrow came; then twilight soft, 
 
 That fell upon a garden spot 
 Where wooing branches high aloft 
 Seemed with celestial music fraught. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 187 
 
 " And on a rustic seat below 
 
 Sat Viola with both her knights, 
 To whom in accents false and low 
 She thus a wicked speech indites: 
 
 " List, noble lovers, you have sought 
 
 My heart and hand so long and well, 
 I cannot say I love you not; 
 
 Which love the best, I cannot tell. 
 
 " So to your ears I will disclose 
 
 A plan to set all matters right, 
 And spare us each such cruel words 
 As spring from wrath and jealous fight. 
 
 " There is in our new land afar, 
 
 On some small island of the sea, 
 Hidden great wealth; what may debar 
 You, lords, from searching it for me? 
 
 " To him who finds the gift shall be 
 
 The* gold he found, and I will give 
 Him all he ever asks of me; 
 
 Be all his own while he shall live. 
 
 " For this will show which best deserves 
 The love of her, who, speaking now, 
 Much loves you both, and yet reserves 
 The most for him with crowned brow. 
 
 " Who with success and lasting fame 
 
 Comes to receive the greater meed, 
 
 That valiant strength and wisdom claim; 
 
 Which will be worthy crown indeed. 
 
 OF 
 
 .JT.IltSXtr 
 
1 88 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "Now, promise, knights, give me your word 
 
 That by this search you will abide, 
 And each by oath upon his sword 
 Show how you win or lose a bride. 
 
 "Then these two -knights did gladly kneel 
 
 Before that autocratic maid, 
 And promise ne er to clash their steel, 
 But that her will would be obeyed. 
 
 As many other fools have done 
 
 Before these two and after them, 
 With promises as rash like one 
 I do remember well a-hem ! 
 
 "A man in love sees by the moon, 
 
 His daylight wrapped in shadow lies;. 
 Judgment trips off on some monsoon, 
 That blows his reason to the skies. 
 
 " Tis sad but true that men do lose 
 The very time when most they n eed 
 The wits they had, then quite refuse 
 To let the wits of others lead, 
 
 " But swear they know their own affairs 
 Better than saner men would know. 
 I say, who fall in Cupid s snares 
 Tis ever best to let them go. 
 
 ; And, said the damsel, one thing yet 
 
 To both I give this much advice: 
 Do not return here till you get 
 The gain or loss, at any price. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 189 
 
 "Go! and God bless you in your task; 
 Don Carlo s ship to-morrow sails; 
 If you would from me something ask, 
 Ask quickly, then; for night prevails. 
 
 " No answer! well, I take it then 
 
 You both brave lords are satisfied. 
 Farewell! and I may meet you when 
 
 One of you knights shall claim his bride. 
 
 "Two months had gone; one sunny day, 
 
 With soft, warm winds and smiling skies, 
 A weary ship slow on its way 
 Into a tropic harbor hies. 
 
 "Its sails were tattered well, and torn; 
 A Spanish flag hung in the breeze, 
 Showing dim colors sadly worn, 
 And harshly treated by the seas. 
 
 "A motley crew stood on the deck 
 
 Of seamen rough and buckled knight, 
 All gazing at a distant speck 
 
 That danced and trembled in their sight. 
 
 "But nearer came they, till it grew 
 
 Into an oval form of green, 
 With palm trees tall from which there flew 
 Gay birds with necks of sparkling sheen. 
 
 "Gulls, white and brown, and speckled o er, 
 Rose, now alarmed, with flapping wing; 
 While round it all a circling shore 
 Inclosed it like some wizard s ring. 
 
190 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " Look, noble youths, the captain said; 
 
 To this fair land our fathers came, 
 And to its shores were hither led 
 By love of honor, and of fame. 
 
 I trust that you have worthy aims 
 
 And come here to perpetuate, 
 By valiant deeds, your honored names, 
 As some have done who now are great. 
 
 "Pardon me if I seem too bold; 
 
 Know that I have your good at heart, 
 For you are young, while I am old ; 
 So tell me truly as we part, 
 
 " If trouble bring ye here alone 
 
 Out to this country wild and new, 
 
 To seek in wrath calm reason flown 
 
 Revenge which ye must surely rue. 
 
 " Ne er gave it peace to any man; 
 
 Twill not atone for any sin ; 
 It doth the flame of anger fan 
 And drive its pain but deeper in. 
 
 " Well, we believe thee, honest friend; 
 
 And, listening, thus Don Carlos heard, 
 Our two knights make suave amend 
 For silent mood and sullen word. 
 
 " But we come not with evil mind, 
 Nor do we wish each other ill ; 
 For both here come to search and find 
 A long and nigh forgotten will. 
 
FLORIDIANA. I9 1 
 
 "Thinking of this, forgotten were 
 
 Things more apparent and more near 
 Since what we search is but for her 
 We shall not quarrel ; do not fear. 
 
 "Now running here and running there, 
 
 With stern command and startling shout, 
 1 )ark-visaged sailors everywhere 
 
 Great ropes and cordage swung; about. 
 
 "Till suddenly the anchor dropped, 
 And sank into the shallow tide; 
 As quick the ponderous vessel stopped 
 And tossed the waters from its side. 
 
 "Sir knights, adieu! I leave you each 
 
 To go your way, where er that be, 
 While I and my poor ship do reach 
 Some trading islands south of me. 
 
 "Jupiter inlet this we call; 
 
 A few kind friends live just within, 
 Where open hearts, though hamlet small, 
 Will glad receive their blood and kin. 
 
 "And so the captain bade adieu 
 
 To our lone lords, who quickly went 
 Into the forest, and from view 
 
 In search of house and dwelling bent. 
 
 " Down through a path they found their way, 
 
 Past cherry, oak, and walnut tree; 
 Past iron-wood and silver bay, 
 And dogwood and mahogany. 
 
192 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "Through palm, and hickory red and white; 
 
 By poplar, cypress, gum, and ash; 
 Magnolias whose blossoms might 
 The Amazon s fair flowers abash. 
 
 "As over all the clinging vine 
 
 With mild persuasion, binding still, 
 The branches which it did entwine, 
 Ruled over with an iron will. 
 
 " Ah! thought Andrino, what has He, 
 
 Our Lord, kept back from out his store, 
 That ever and anon should we 
 Be asking yet for more and more ? 
 
 " Now, as I walk my heart expands, 
 
 I feel my own inanity; 
 And realize that my demands 
 Are oft but prayers of vanity. 
 
 "At times I ask I know not what, 
 
 And grow content by less and less, 
 As in my greed I have forgot 
 The very blessings I possess. 
 
 "At last they reach a garden small, 
 
 In which a homely cottage stood, 
 Where orange grew and plantain tall, 
 And many other kinds of wood. 
 
 " Agaves straight and yucca blades, 
 
 Mimosas held in quivering green; 
 
 And flowers, sweet in many shades, 
 
 From pink and blue to mazarine. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 193 
 
 " Within a latticed portico, 
 
 Up which trailed graceful clematis, 
 Stretched in a hammock snug and low 
 Swung there a pretty little miss 
 
 " None else there seemed about but her, 
 And she asleep was, fast and sound; 
 So watched the knights but did not stir, 
 For much they were in wonder bound. 
 
 " A girl it was whose fairy shape 
 
 Lay wrapped in careless robes of white; 
 Her tresses like a sable cape 
 
 Fell o er her shoulders soft and light. 
 
 "Down by her side a romance lay, 
 
 Forgotten quite, or in some dream 
 Told over in a different way, 
 
 With grander plot and larger scheme. 
 
 " A smile was on her face, her breast 
 In trembling motion rose and fell; 
 
 Ah! maiden of thy snowy nest 
 
 The mystery what tongue can tell? 
 
 " Thus thought Andrino as he stood, 
 And drank the wondrous beauty in : 
 
 Oh ! in such heavenly shapes how could 
 There ever creep the shame of sin ? 
 
 "Therein lie hidden, strong and deep, 
 
 Feelings that will in after years 
 Thy heart and soul and body keep, 
 
 In sure reserve for joy or tears. 
 13 
 
194 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " Now with a start the damsel woke 
 
 Some power mesmeric warned her sense- 
 And, flushing crimson, quickly spoke 
 With air of righteous insolence: 
 
 "What business have ye two to be 
 
 Strangers withal and here unknown 
 Gazing like idiots to see 
 
 A maiden sleeping and alone ? 
 
 " Pardon, sweet maid, and do forgive 
 
 Andrino spoke in pleasing tone 
 Us knights who truly would not give 
 Thee cause for anger had we known 
 
 " The way to go in this great wood, 
 
 Or where else might we shelter find, 
 
 From Spain came we, our kinship should 
 
 Take fear of danger from thy mind. 
 
 " I ask thee pardon, noble knight, 
 
 For my impetuosity; 
 But greatly startled, in my fright 
 Uttered I words too thoughtlessly. 
 
 " Take seats within, and I will go 
 
 To seek my parents in the dell 
 Where they have gone, for now I know 
 They will receive thee wondrous well. 
 
 " Her glance and word are but for thee, 
 
 Said Don Fernando with a sneer, 
 As down the garden light and free 
 The maiden s form did disappear. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 195 
 
 " She smiles upon the handsome one 
 And looks not at the lesser light, 
 But we shall see when we have done 
 Which comes out victor in the fight. 
 
 " What angry devil has within 
 
 Thee once more broken bolt and bar, 
 And, like some guilty, jealous sin, 
 Sounded his tocsin from afar ? 
 
 " Know that I will not quarrel now, 
 
 Nor e er again; so hold thy tongue, 
 And if by chance upon thy brow 
 
 The wreath of victory should be flung, 
 
 " I shall not trouble thee, nor show 
 
 My shadow twixt thee and thy light; 
 But act so all the world may know 
 How keeps his oath a worthy knight. 
 
 "Though thou who art a coward born, 
 
 Kept on Andrino, in his rage, 
 I love thee not and with thee scorn 
 To ever in a feud engage- 
 
 " If thou dost gain the treasure rich, 
 
 And win Viola s hand as well, 
 Twill be I know by aid of witch 
 
 Or some enchantment dark from hell. 
 
 " Quick as a flash, Fernando took 
 
 His sword and plunged it in the breast 
 Of him who spoke, and then betook 
 Himself of other home in quest. 
 
196 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 "The wounded lord lay on the floor, 
 Unconscious and of ghastly hue, 
 As maid and parent near the door 
 With quickening pace all eager drew. 
 
 " Not waiting questions vain to ask, 
 
 They took the youth and gently bound 
 The maiden aiding in their task 
 
 With healing salve, his bleeding wound. 
 
 " And so the daughter nursed him on, 
 
 From day to day and week to week, 
 Till many days and weeks were gone, 
 And color touched again his cheek. 
 
 "To his kind friends Andrino told 
 
 Oft of his search, now long delayed; 
 About the will and all its gold, 
 Nor did forget the Spanish maid. 
 
 u But as he spoke of her, the eyes 
 
 Of his young nurse would flash and flame, 
 Her head bend low, like one who tries 
 To hide from view a modest shame. 
 
 "And as he gazed upon the face, 
 
 Many a time he thought how pure, 
 And even heavenly, was the grace 
 Which he who won her would secure. 
 
 " He loved her, though he knew it not, 
 
 Far better than the faithless child 
 Who by deceptive practice brought 
 Him to this tropic land so wild. 
 
FLORIDIANA. . 197 
 
 "And she loved him, and knew it well, 
 
 With all a maiden s burning zeal, 
 Which trembling hand and blushes tell, 
 And which no maid can e er conceal. 
 
 "Now, every day Andrino grew 
 
 Better, and strength came to his arm, 
 While round his heart love s halo threw 
 Its cheerful radiance soft and warm, 
 
 " Till after while he realized 
 
 Without this love he could not live; 
 And far above mere treasure prized 
 What would him sweeter comfort give. 
 
 " One morning then, before the sun 
 
 Poured its rich rays upon the earth, 
 
 While yet the skies were gray and dun, 
 
 And no fires kindled on the hearth, 
 
 "Andrino lay in wakeful mood, 
 
 Thinking of what he soon should do; 
 How, ere he left that shady wood 
 He must his faithful guardian woo. 
 
 " Already I believe her heart 
 
 Is won by mine, as mine by hers, 
 While each to ea~h does love impart, 
 Though open sufferance each defers. 
 
 " I can no longer rest in doubt, 
 
 Since doubt no longer rests with me, 
 But I will quickly set about 
 And make my declaration free. 
 
[98 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " As for the one I left in Spain, 
 
 No more I love her, nor her gold, 
 And I will never search again 
 For paltry treasure in the mould, 
 
 "Since I have found far better worth 
 Than such a love as honor gains, 
 Or prosperous searching round the earth 
 O er mountain, forests, hills, or plains. 
 
 "In musings similar, the maid 
 
 Oft in her chamber, after dark, 
 Launched on her sea, yet half afraid, 
 Fo id longings in Hope s fragile bark; 
 
 "And feared she knew not what might turn 
 
 Thit bark upon some hidden rock, 
 For pleasant wind and wave to spurn, 
 And for an angry sea to mock. 
 
 " Yet had she found a mystic charm, 
 E en on the day Fernando gave 
 To his brave comrade that deep harm 
 Which almost brought him to his grave. 
 
 "For as he took his sword, there fell 
 Out of his pocket to the ground 
 Viola s charm, that proved so well 
 Exacting payment for the wound. 
 
 " And in a letter wrapped about 
 The magic thing, Viola gave 
 As best she knew the proper route, 
 That toil she might her lover save. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 199 
 
 "This read the maiden Felisa, 
 
 Nor understood its import till 
 She heard the tale of Viola, 
 
 Of hidden wealth and mouldy will. 
 
 "Then to her senses, like a flash 
 
 Of lightning from some passing cloud, 
 Came the full meaning of the rash 
 
 And treacherous act; and like a shroud 
 
 " It folded her pure heart all up, 
 
 And bound it with a deep regret; 
 She thought twould be a bitter cup 
 For her dear noble friend, and yet, 
 
 "Perhaps, if but he knew, he might 
 
 Love her as she did him, and be 
 Her own, as she would his, delight. 
 And shall I show him this? said she, 
 
 U (, 
 
 This charm and letter? No, he must, 
 If love me ever, love me now, 
 
 Before I break the wreath of trust 
 Placed by Viola on his brow. : 
 
 And here stopped Dexter in his tale, 
 As though his heart and tongue did fail 
 
 To more relate; 
 
 For Luna now had hidden deep 
 Her laughing face and gone to sleep; 
 Nor would she longer vigils keep, 
 
 But called it late. 
 While echoes all the shore along 
 
2oo VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Caught Tabler snoring loud and strong, 
 And did his nasal notes prolong. 
 " I think tis growing late, my friends, 
 And for my tale will make amends 
 
 By ending for the night," 
 Said Dexter, as he fixed his couch, 
 And twisted round his hunting pouch 
 
 From left to right. 
 
 "No, no," cried his companions all; 
 "It is not very late at all; 
 
 A.nd ere we close our eyes, 
 We wish to hear of Viola, 
 But most if gentle Felisa 
 
 Did win her noble prize. 
 No matter if our Tabler snores, 
 No doubt his troubled spirit soars 
 
 Into Elysian skies." 
 
 "But don t stay thar," cried Tabler quick, 
 " My wife she says I never stick 
 
 In any place; 
 
 As though a man were like a brick 
 To be stuck down with mortar thick, 
 Or like some dangerous lunatic, 
 
 I do declar 
 
 Tis fit to make a parson swar. 
 But, frien , tell on that purty tale 
 Of which I did the sense inhale 
 
 A while ago. 
 
 I think we left off whar them knights 
 Was havin out their jealous spites. 
 I want to know 
 
FLORTDIANA. 201 
 
 How Don Fandrino did behave, 
 For he was nothing but a knave 
 And sure deserved a fiddler s grave." 
 "Without more parley and more fuss, 
 Since you all seem unanimous 
 
 In asking for my story, 
 I will tell how it came to pass 
 Our noble lord and his sweet lass 
 United were by holy mass 
 
 In matrimonial tie; 
 So listen, friends, a little more; 
 Not long it will be now before 
 
 The end we spy." 
 
 " Andrino, fretting at the fate 
 
 That kept him prisoner so long, 
 More restless grew, and could not wait 
 Till he was really well and strong; 
 
 "But strength enough he had to make 
 
 His wishes known to maid and sire, 
 Which, well received, did new awake 
 Felisa s love and pure desire. 
 
 " She felt now that her secret might 
 Be told Andrino, without fear; 
 Indeed, thought she, it is but right 
 
 That he the monstrous plot should hear. 
 
 And so she told him, as his cheek 
 
 Grew red and white alternately, 
 And his poor tongue refused to speak, 
 
 Or muttered incoherently. 
 
202 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " Couldst thou then love the lass so well? 
 
 The damsel at his side did ask, 
 Or dost thou some regret the spell 
 
 That takes thee from thy weary task ? 
 
 " In error art thou, gentle maid, 
 
 The lord made answer, as he pressed 
 Her clinging hand, and softly laid 
 A throbbing head upon his breast, 
 
 " Before I heard, this, thou dost know 
 
 I asked thee, love, to be my bride; 
 Far better than all else below 
 I love thee, and all things beside. 
 
 " But shocked I felt to hear of her, 
 
 Whom I believed was true and kind, 
 As one who could so sadly err 
 And plot and plan with evil mind. 
 
 "And, oh! I thank the Lord that he 
 
 Did send me to this wonder-land, 
 To find my treasure all in thee; 
 
 A mighty wealth of heart and hand. 
 
 " Aye, thankful that I have escaped 
 
 Seeking to find what such a youth, 
 Whose paths in windings dark^are shaped, 
 Would soon have easy found, forsooth. 
 
 " But now, my love, when may we wed ? 
 The earth is fair, and summer skies 
 Propitious seem; by song-birds led 
 The forest wafts us harmonies. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 203 
 
 1 The passion-flowers round yonder tree 
 
 Have opened all their blossoms wide; 
 The bridal rose and fleur de Us, 
 And pinks that in the hedges hide. 
 
 "Acacias, lindens, jessamines, 
 
 Smile on us with a gladsome air; 
 Myrtles, marjorams, eglantines, 
 White lilies, balm, and lavender. 
 
 ; "Yes, said Felisa; but you see 
 
 Among them all lobelias grow, 
 The laurel, crown, and barberry, 
 Emblems of evil, scorn, and woe. 
 
 " While in the sky appears a cloud, 
 
 A night-hawk screeches overhead, 
 So, knight, and laughed she half aloud, 
 I wonder when we two may wed? 
 
 c:< I see, Andrino made reply, 
 
 Thy meaning is that Nature will 
 Her kind approval ne er deny 
 To him who wishes her no ill. 
 
 "She frowns and smiles alike on all; 
 
 Tis only he with mind morose, 
 Who, murmuring, finds the bitter gall 
 And takes, by choice, a noxious dose. 
 
 "To all who hold a cheerful heart, 
 
 Each flower or shrub or tender blade 
 Is Providence, which doth impart 
 In turn bright sun or gladsome shade. 
 
204 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " On good and bad the same rays fall, 
 
 And so to good or bad intent; 
 And what we have is not at all 
 More to us than to others sent. 
 
 "What brings the bud to perfect bloom, 
 
 And breathes sweet life to hidden seed, 
 Sends blossoms to a darkened tomb 
 And proves the death of life, indeed. 
 
 "According as we search, we find; 
 
 Enjoy as we appreciate, 
 So tis not Providence, but mind 
 
 That holds the keys of chance and fate. 
 
 " This I believe, and now, dear one, 
 I see how Nature s winning smile 
 My joy increases with each sun, 
 
 And how things well my hours beguile. 
 
 " But I am ready: give me this, 
 
 The charm thou hast, and let me go ; 
 When I return most perfect peace 
 
 Shall crown what augured perfect woe. 
 
 "And when the treasure yours and mine- 
 
 I shall discover, we may wed, 
 Whether the earth with light doth shine 
 Or courts the storm-cloud overhead. 
 
 " With clinging hand and fond caress, 
 
 Andrino left his love s abode, 
 And, in the somber wilderness, 
 
 Deep through its mystic shadows rode. 
 
WITH TORTUOUS STRAITS AND STRANGE DEFILES 
 PASSING BETWEEN, DRAW EACH AND ALL 
 
FLORIDIANA. 205 
 
 " Long was the ride, past jungles dense, 
 
 And swamp and plain and deep morass ; 
 By Indian villages, and tents 
 
 Which sent their points up through the grass. 
 
 "Rivers he crossed, and muddy lakes, 
 
 In which dwelt things innumerable, 
 Lizards and toads and water-snakes 
 And beasts with coats invulnerable. 
 
 "Weary he grew as days went on, 
 
 But now at length drew near the shore, 
 Just as the light of early dawn 
 
 Tinged all the ocean o er and o er. 
 
 "And here he saw a myriad isles, 
 
 Narrow and wide and great and small, 
 With tortuous straits and strange defiles, 
 Passing between them each and all. 
 
 "Nor could he tell which one might be 
 
 The isle wherein the treasure lay; 
 And, blaming the temerity 
 That led him on so far away, 
 
 "Now off in spirit went the knight, 
 
 His body lying on the sand ; 
 Through all the islands left and right, 
 And on the sea and on the land. 
 
 "Till came he to a lovely spot, 
 
 Shaded by royal trees of palm, 
 No better place could be, he thought, 
 For sweet repose and restful calm. 
 
206 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " Tis here/ said voices, we will touch 
 
 The utmost limit of our span, 
 Never in any age was such 
 A favor done for any man. 
 
 "Not far art thou, good knight, from where 
 
 The treasure that thou seekest lies, 
 Which thou mayst find without a care, 
 If anxious, ere the daylight dies. 
 
 "Then, as the knight awoke, his arm 
 
 Crossed heavy on a burdened breast, 
 He found the Spanish maiden s charm 
 Within his hand was tightly pressed. 
 
 "And to his mind the dream returned, 
 
 Nor, as he rose, did pass away; 
 
 Come, said he gaily, what is earned 
 
 Must be secured without delay. 
 
 "And so forthwith he made a boat 
 
 Of cypress trunk, hollow and large, 
 In which as swiftly could he float 
 Or safely, as in grander barge. 
 
 "Palmetto leaves for oars he took, 
 Yet scarcely needed oars at all, 
 For in this strange Elysian nook 
 Crowded were islands large and small 
 
 "So close the bark could guided be 
 
 On through the channels blue and still, 
 Slowly along or rapidly, 
 
 According to the boatman s will. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 207 
 
 " Now came the morning rays, with light 
 
 Traversing all that sea of isles, 
 Turning the shadow frowns of night 
 Into the day s bright, laughing smiles. 
 
 "And mom laughed back, and dancing ray 
 
 Clove spears of gold through palm and fern, 
 As lone Andrino sought his way 
 With eager gaze, from bend to turn. 
 
 "At length he saw an island dark, 
 
 Which, to his eye, did surely seem, 
 As nearer drew he with his bark, 
 The very island of his dream. 
 
 "Tall, haughty palms grew high, and trees 
 
 Of other size and shade were there, 
 With blossoms sweet from which the bees 
 Bore their rich burdens through the air. 
 
 " Here stayed Andrino with his bark, 
 And drew it high upon the beach, 
 Far past the highest water mark, 
 Where tide and storm could never reach. 
 
 " And then Viola s letter took, 
 
 Reading it once again, to see 
 Where on the island he might look 
 If this the treasure spot should be. 
 
 " The isle is small, the letter said, 
 
 Covered with tangle branch and vine; 
 But seek its center, thither led 
 Thy path will be by aid divine. 
 
2o8 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 " And so Andrino hurried fast, 
 
 Guided he knew not how, but still 
 On to the sought-for place, at last 
 By strange direction of some will. 
 
 u And there he saw, ah ! must I say ? 
 Fernando prone upon his face ; 
 A lifeless, wasted form of clay, 
 Atoning for his past disgrace. 
 
 " Quite dead he lay across the mound 
 
 Of earth whereon no grasses grew, 
 And where, within deep underground, 
 Lay all the treasure he did sue. 
 
 "Strange fate, alas! Andrino mused, 
 
 Has led my rival to this spot; 
 Without the charm he would have used 
 The very place his soul has sought. 
 
 "And yet he knew it not, but died, 
 Miserable, starving, here alone. 
 God pity him! His virgin bride, 
 Must now his sins and hers atone. 
 
 " Down in the white soil s hidden keep 
 Andrino found the maiden s gold ; 
 And in its place, as far and deep, 
 Buried his rival in the mould. 
 
 ^ Quantum sufficitj carved he plain 
 
 In letters rude upon a cross; 
 Since God alone can give the gain 
 
 Tis right that he should send the loss. 
 
FLORIDIANA. 209 
 
 "Full was Andrino s thankful heart, 
 
 When to his loving bride he went, 
 And found her willing then to start 
 For any shore or continent. 
 
 "Back to old Spain they sailed, and there 
 
 Were married into happy life; 
 No happier couple anywhere 
 
 Than Don Andrino and his wife. 
 
 "Not for themselves the gold they kept, 
 
 But gave it to the needy poor, 
 And many in their castle slept 
 
 Who sought admittance at their door. 
 
 "So, like a magic wreath around, 
 
 Good deeds and children circled them, 
 And, one by one, these gems were bound 
 Into a household diadem." 
 
 Here ended Dexter, as the camp-fire threw 
 Its dying glimmer on a sleepy crew, 
 And flashed and darkened like some lightning cloud, 
 While Tabler, soundly sleeping, snored aloud, 
 And thought the whole of this long tale he heard, 
 Hearing a sentence here, and there a word, 
 And flattered much himself that he could keep, 
 At this late hour, from falling fast asleep. 
 
 "Tell me some more," he said; "Fandrino will 
 The other fellow lord mos surely kill, 
 Unless the captain of the ship they sail 
 Does lock the useless fellows both in jail." 
 
 "You have our thanks," said Benjamin; "but tell 
 14 
 
210 VERSES FROM THE VALLEY. 
 
 Us what became of that false Spanish belle?" 
 
 "Yes," cried the others; " we are anxious all 
 To learn what to the maiden did befall." 
 
 "Little is known," said Dexter, "of her life 
 After Andrino married his sweet wife; 
 She left her native land and ne er returned, 
 Nor where she went was ever surely learned; 
 Though some have said she crossed the sea, and came 
 Here to this land, disguised in dress and name, 
 And, much repenting of her former sin, 
 Tried by good deeds a better fame to win. 
 
 "My tale," cried Benjamin, "may only be 
 A sequel to the happy one, which we 
 Have gladly heard you tell, and this false maid 
 The same child to whose grave we homage paid." 
 
 " But so or not, good-night," we said to all, 
 And as we spoke 
 The fire s last embers darkened into smoke. 
 
 With this night ended all our trip as well, 
 For early in the morning it befell 
 That Tabler took a lonesome "spell," 
 And said he would not go another mile 
 
 On sea or shore; 
 Nor with rich promises could we beguile 
 
 Or him implore. 
 
 " We ve skipped across," said Tabler, "land and sea, 
 And, as the sayin is, enough s enough for me; 
 We couldn t find no new thing now, you see: 
 A-hunting nothing arter finding it 
 Is like a-fighting arter you have fit; 
 
FLORIDIANA. 211 
 
 Birds, flowers, and sech is good enough to see, 
 But something more substantial give to me." 
 We could not quell this mutiny, and so 
 Decided then, that very day, to go 
 
 Back to our trees. 
 
 Besides, our clothes were old, for we 
 Had been a month or so at sea. 
 
 Now came the breeze, 
 
 By whose kind help we sped along, nor took, 
 Like Lot s sad wife, a backward look. 
 Our shells we piled into the Pet, 
 And never did one thing forget 
 Of coral, sponge, of stones with color rare, 
 Of leaves and grasses gathered here and there, 
 Of alligator s teeth, and jaw of shark, 
 Of crabs, and claws, and moss, and weed, and bark, 
 Of birds, and nests, and eggs, and other things 
 Which Nature to this country kindly brings. 
 Thus laden now, we on our homeward way 
 Moved with the breeze through strait and stretching bay, 
 Camping by night upon some little isle, 
 And starting out before the rooming s smile, 
 Till, when eight days had gone, on Tampa s shore 
 We furled our tattered sails and sailed no more. 
 
IN PREPARATION 
 
 SKETCHES 
 
 Bound in Cloth, $1.OO. 
 
 These sketches are very interesting, and written in that pleasing style charac 
 teristic of the Author of "VERSES FROM THE. VALLEY." They have been 
 compared by some to Hawthorne s "TWICE TOLD TALES." 
 
 1H- HER 
 
 IECES 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 
 
 Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 This volume contains some twelve essays, on Liberty, Manners, Inconstancy, 
 Criticism, The Right and Wrong, Being and Doing, and other subjects. 
 
 BIT 
 
tt] 
 
 BY E. S. GOODHUE, 
 
 Beautifully Bound in Cloth, Price $l.r,0. 
 
 What you have sent impresses me very favorably. Mr. Goodhue 
 is a poet, and will be recognized as such before many years. 
 
 Boston, Jan. 24, 1880. E. P. WHIPPLE. 
 
 For one so young he has made himself quite a literary niche. 
 
 REV. DR. P. S. McKILLOP, 
 Chicago, March, 1879. Editor "Missionary. 
 
 The poems from the pen of the Editor-in-Chief possess very con 
 siderable merit, and all the articles are well written. 
 
 W. E. JONES, M. A. 
 February, 1879. (Oxon.) in review of College "Echo." 
 
 Have always found Mr. (loodhue an easy and pleasant writer. 
 He has contributed to our columns for several years. [Editor 
 "Observer." 
 
 Dec. 30, 1883. 
 
 Some with whom we have spoken think the poetry of "E. S. (i." 
 is too metaphysical ; but if any one can read his "Release" without 
 being moved to admiration at its sweetness and beauty, we say he 
 has no soul for poetry. JAMES H. ROE, 
 
 March, 1888. In Riverside "Echo." 
 
iel Hawthorne, which author, by the way, was a near relative of Mr. 
 Goodhue s grandfather. His family is an old one to which he refers 
 with considerable pride. His ancestor, Wm. Goodhue, came to Massa. 
 chusetts in 1636, and left a homestead still in possession of the Salem 
 Goodhues. The family genealogy contains many well known names 
 among which are those of "Gail Hamilton" (Miss Dodge) and Edna 
 Dean Proctor. 
 
 Mr. Goodhue loves the South and the Southern people, as a,uy on.e 
 
 who reads his poetry need not be long in finding out.. Many of his 
 
 u^est sketches were written from n.ote tafcen. in Virginia and North 
 
 o olina. ^gge^^ssi^ J. L. BROWN. 
 
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