THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FKAG-MENTS. MOSES OWETST. NEW YORK: C. A. ALVORD, 15 VAXDEWATER STREET. 1868. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1868, by MOSES OWEN, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. PS .2509 TO MY CHKRISHEH FEIF.ND T tl O 3VI A. S ~W- 18 DKOTCATRa TIII8 MODKST LITTLE BOOK IS MEMORY OF "DAYS DEPARTED. WHOSE INSPIRATION YET L1NGEKS IS THE MEMORY, ' Telling of happy dreams, of happy hours, Of life and sunshine which it caught from thee." 764045 PKEFACE. THESE Fragments, like an inharmonious cluster of wild- wood flowers, are sent by the author to his friends in Bath, simply because they have asked for them. If they breathe into the chambers of any heart a fragrance of emotion, or awaken a single impulse of good, they will more than fully equal the expectation of him that made them. CONTENTS. PAGE ON GUARD 13 RETURNED BATTLE FLAGS 17 THE ORPHAN'S HOME 19 SOLDIER'S MONUMENT 22 SEDGWICK 24 " UNKNOWN " 26 THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY THE PATRIOTISM OP OUR IRISH CITIZENS 28 THE CALL TO FREEMEN 31 THOUGHTS ox THE ENDING OF THE TEAR 1865 36 X CONTENTS. PAOB THE "BLUE" AND THE "GRAY" 42 POETICAL PARAPHRASE, VI. SATIRE, II. BOOK HORACE 45 GRANDMOTHER 55 To A LAKE 57 To THE KENXEBEC 59 THE PIXE-TREE STATE 61 " DESERTED " 63 SPRING 65 " LOST !" 66 "SAVED 1" 67 To 69 NEW ENGLAND. . . 71 " ONLY A CHILD " 74 ON THE DEPARTURE OF S 76 SUMMER 78 THOUGHTS ON THE DEATH OP A CHRISTIAN 80 EPITAPH. 82 REFLECTIONS OF AN OLD MAN 84 THE COMING OF WINTER 85 To A CHILD 89 IN MEMORIAM, S. F. J 91 CONTENTS. XI PAGE THE CHURCH-YARD 94 DISAPPOINTMENT 96 ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND WHO DIED AT HAVANA. .98 THE IDEAL WORLD 99 STANZAS 104 BASE BALL 103 INFANCY 109 " LOVER'S RETREAT " Ill ON GUARD. 1864. -and the Sentinel paces his IS night !- round, With an eye for each object an ear for each sound ; But his thoughts are roving, long, long, miles away, They speed from him swiftly like children to play. Again he's at home in a fond wife's embrace, And tear chases tear down his sun-beaten face ; His children now greet him now call him by name, He heeds not the night watch his home is the same. 14: FRAGMENTS. Still green is the vine that encircles the door, The path is the same as in blest days of yore ! Aye, every loved object stands clear to his view. God's angels have blessed him inspired him anew. " Oh, blessed be home !" now springs from his heart, " And blessed be the ties that earth's power cannot part! " And blessed be memory that spark from God's throne " That star for earth's mariner, wandering alone ! " And blessed be our Country our Flag of the Free, ""Which floats now, triumphant, o'er land and o'er sea, " And proud in thy glory we see thee arise, " As the sun scatters clouds in his course through the skies." The Sentinel's pacing his dull, dreary round ; His soul is now free though the body be bound : CLV GUARD. 15 But hark ! through the darkness some sound strikes his ear ; He stops as some object doth dimly appear ; " Halt !" cries he ; " Who comes ?" speaks the Sen- tinel now : "A friend with the countersign!" 's answered him low. "Advance with the countersign !" Soon it is given His home is now earth, whilst before it was heaven. That bright dream is over his home's far away ; The night breeze is speaking which round him dotli It tells of a country that's dearer than life, And his arm feels the stronger for Freedom's own strife ; It tells of a foe who would pluck the bright stars, From a Flag so triumphant in peace or in wars ; Who would make it a by- word an object of shame And he says, " I will die for its freedom or fame ! " 16 FRAGMENTS. And blessed is a country with stout hearts like these ; The tramp of her armies is swelling the breeze ; They rush to her rescue their lives freely give 'Twere better to die than in bondage to live ! God bless thee, O Sentinel, pacing thy round ! Safe may'st thou return, with the victor's wreath bound, When the dark clouds of war shall have passed from the skies, And rebellion is hurled down never to rise. MAINE BATTLE FLAGS. 17 THE RETURNED MAINE BATTLE FLAGS. WHICH HANG IN THE ROTUNDA OF THE STATE HOUSE, AT AUGUSTA. OTIIING but flags but simple flags, Tattered and torn and hanging in rags ; And we walk beneath them with careless tread, Nor think of the hosts of the mighty dead, That have marched beneath them in days gone by, With a burning cheek, and a kindling ej'e, And have bathed their folds with their young life's tide, And dying, blessed them, and blessing, died. Nothing but flags yet, methinks, at night. They tell each other their tales of fright ! And dim spectres come, and their thin arms twine 'Round each standard torn as they stand in line. 18 FRAGMENTS. As the word is given they charge ! they form ! And the dim hall rings with the battle's storm ; And once again, through the smoke and strife, Those colors lead to a Nation's life. Nothing but flags yet they're bathed with tears ; They tell of triumphs of hopes of fears ; Of a mother's prayers of a boy away, Of a serpent crushed of the coming day ; Silent, they speak and the tear will start, As we stand beneath them with throbbing heart, And think of those who are ne'er forgot, Their flags come home why come they not ? Nothing but flags yet we hold our breath, And gaze with awe at those types of death ; Nothing but flags yet the thought will come, The heart must pray though the lips be dumb ! They are sacred, pure, and we see no stain On those dear loved flags come home again ; Baptized in blood, our purest, best, Tattered and torn, they're now at rest. THE ORPHAN'S HOME. 19 THE ORPHAN'S HOME. DELIVERED AT AN ENTERTAINMENT GIVEN AT BATH IN AID OF THE " HOME." died for us ! The noble, true and brave, Laid down their lives their holiest offer- ng gave ; They thought of home of dear ones there the kind, And breathed a prayer for those the} 7 left behind. Their sacred trust remains their children dear, Though they, their fathers, are no longer here ; That prayer is answered and they need not roam, For loving hearts have op'ed the ORPHAN'S HOME. Near to the " Granite Shaft " its walls arise, And Love stands beckoning 'neath the azure skies ; Enter ye children ! though the world be drear, And find a refuge and contentment here. 20 FRA GMENTS. Of SAMPSON'S power we read that name is might ! "We feel its influence on this very night ; lie but pulled down when draining sorrow's cup, But one, with power divine, hath builded up. Her works remain and many a soldier's eye Hath gleamed with pleasure as she passed him by, Bringing sweet hopes of health and home again, She seemed an Angel by his bed of pain. Much had she done but yet she faltered not ; The dead were gone their living not forgot ; " Make them a place !" she said : " They should not roam !" And from her will, upsprung the ORPHAN'S HOMK. And well it is, that, 'neath her fostering care It sprung to life ; we all its glories share ; The little seed dropped tearful in the earth, Will bloom and blossom in triumphant birth. Who makes the waste to bloom, is mightier, far, Than he who conquers in despoiling war ; THE ORPHAN'S HOME. 21 And one sweet word comes, sacred, from above, And gilds the heavens with the name of " Love." Help on the work ! for this we meet to-night ; What nobler purpose could our minds incite ? The ORPHAN'S HOME ! what memories cluster there ! What more deserving of a Nation's care ! A country, saved, implores ! fair Freedom's shrine Proclaims each gift is hers, and is divine ; And they are hers her children loved and dear, She says, "Protect them while ye have them here !" Much has been done yet much remains to do ; A %; PATTEN'S " name is " sacred w r are "- 'tis true ; And hearts all throbbing as the ocean's foam, Should beat this night, to aid the ORPHAN'S HOME. \ Oh, hallowed thought ! our soldier's sacred trust Shall e'er remain, till earth shall sink to dust. 22 FRAGMENTS. THE SOLDIER'S MONUMENT. SACRED TO THE MEMORY OP A NATIOX'S DEAD. IS but a shaft on the windy height, Which will crumble to dust by the age's blight ; And the names will fade from the stone away, In the long, long years yet they count to-day ! 'Tis but a shaft yet we bow the head, And feel we are nearer our noble dead ; "We watched them going with tear-dimmed eye, And clasping hand, and fond " good-by ! " And the rolling drums and the flags unfurled, Told not of the shock that should shake the world ; Of those fearful years when in battle's strife, They should give their own for a Nation's life. We saw not the spectres that followed on, Yet, somehow, we wept when we found them gone, THE SOLDIERS MONUMENT. 33 And many a heart felt itself alone, Though it read no name on the un wrought stone. 'Tis but a shaft and our valiant dead, Perchance, sleep far from its rocky bed ! Yet I love to think that they hover 'round, At home, once more, near this hallowed ground ; And, all unseen, with their words of cheer, They whisper, " Mother, your boy is near ! " And I love to think that their toils are o'er, They form no ranks hear no cannon's roar ! They have passed beyond all their work is done ! They have fought the fight and the victory's won. n Oh, valiant dead ! though that shaft decay, And crumble and sink into dust away, Yet, nobler than cunning works of art, Your temple stands in Freedom's heart. And brighter and brighter your names shall glow, For they shine on high though they fade below ; And eternal years may not blight nor chill Though that shaft must sink from the windy hiil. 24 FRAGMENTS. "SEDGWICK." MAY 9, 1864. E breathe his name the " cross " gleams bright, On every manly breast ; HE wore it and it caught the light Of heaven's own pure bequest. Then brothers let us bow the head, And feel his presence near ; The brave die not he is not dead, No ! SEDGWICK'S soul is here ! God bless him ! When, amidst the fray, We sweep the death-struck plain, We hear his voice the foe gives way, And SKDGWICX leads again! "SEDGWJCK" 25 He left us, when through "Wilderness" War shed its lurid flame ; When ranks were growing less and less, lie left us but in name. His sword was sheathed yet ever near The dear old flag he moves, Beneath the " cross " he whispers cheer. The " cross" that SEDGWICK loves. Then breathe his name ! the " cross " gleams bright On every manly breast ; He wore it, and it caught the light Of heaven's own pure bequest. 26 FRA GMEXTS. UNKNOWN. H, cold, cruel, word ! on the cold, cruel stone, That marks where a hero lies sleeping " unknown ;" And the tear it will rise as the sad thought doth come, That some one was waiting to welcome him home. And love waiteth long and hope lingereth on Though reason may whisper " Your loved one has gone !" And morning and night on the sweet breath of prayer, Some fond heart entrusts him to God's loving care. But the sweet flowers of Summer shall blootn on his grave, In the far distant South, and the life that he gave UNKNOWN. 27 For Freedom on earth, shall be sacred above, And there they shall meet him where's nothing but love. And Faith points triumphant, above the low mound, And Heaven seems nearer this is hallowed ground ; And my tears cease to flow for I hear a sweet tone, Saying, "Up high in heaven there's nothing un- known." 28 FRAGMENTS. THOUGHTS. SUGGESTED BY THE PATRIOTISM OE OUR IRISH FELLOW CITIZEN'S. 0^fca pfONG suff'ring Ireland, from thy island homo, Thy sons are gazing o'er the restless sea ! With hearts all throbbing as the ocean's foam, And souls all ardent, they can yet be free. They love our country, for she heard their cry, When famine gaunt was stalking, 'round each door; She heard to heed it, and her ships did fly, And brought relief to Ireland's suffering poor. They love our country for she shines a star In freedom's sky, to light all Nations on ; They catch its radiance o'er the waste afar, And Ireland dreams of Freedom's blessed morn. THOUGHTS. 29 Go in the thickest fight where duty calls, That love is shown for Ireland's sons are there ! Onward they press though many a hero falls They fill the gap and never know dispair. And history's page will brighten with their deeds, In years to come when truth asserts her sway, When wrong is vanquished, and the tyrant bleeds, "When error's night gives place to brightsome day. Look ! in that dismal cell a captive brave Is sadly gazing through its iron bars ; His soul is wandering where he strove to save, Again he fights for Freedom's stripes and stars. Yes, Corcoran, yes, with pride we call thy name ; No truer heart than thine could ever beat ; No nobler gift could Freedom give to Fame No braver soul a vaunting foe could meet. 30 FBA GMENTS. Well may they hold the lion in his cage, And tremble but to think that he was free ; Well may they show the tyrant's ceaseles rage, He finds an echo o'er the heaving sea. Yes Ireland hears, and asks each passing gale, " What news from Freedom's shores, Columbia's land?" Trembling, they ask, " If right can ever fail ?" " If Freedom's Temple will not always stand ?" Yes, Ireland, yes ! by thy brave sons we swear, By all that's prized above or loved below, That flag shall float as free as God's pure air, Whilst freemen live and tyrants fee] the blow. THE CALL TO FREEMEN. 31 THE CALL TO FREEMEN, 1862. i UT for three hundred thousand of freemen true and brave, To crush the serpent Treason a bleeding land to save ? To raise the starry banner o'er Freedom's sacred soil, To keep intact our fathers gift gained with such ceaseless toil ? We know our brothers, marshalled, are panting for the fray, Not great in force but great in heart they wait the coming day ; The foe, exultant, presses and boasts that right is low, Up every Freeman of the North, and show them 'tis not so 1 Hg FRAGMENTS. Young man, arise ! each, southern breeze is fraught with dire alarm, Your country calls ! you can but hear ! she needs your stalwart arm ; Your brothers call! full well they've borne the the burden of the day, Gird on your armor meet them South, and rout the foe away. Obey the call and hurry on three hundred thou- sand strong, And when you're gone we'll follow on we hope it won't be long ; Come from the workshop and the bench, send up the deaf ning cry, " For Freedom, happy, we will live, or happier still will die." Three hundred thousand, well we know, with those before us gone, Must make it lighten all around and show the com- ing morn ; THE CALL TO FREEMEN. 33 But for the mid-day panting, our souls await your call, But give it " Father Abram" we'll " push them to the wall !" This is no baby's pastime, no sight nor grand re- view, A bleeding country, groaning, calls ; we all have work to do ; Why stop at home deriding the Southron's skill and power, And boasting of the conq'ring North, when dark the tempests lower ? For Eight must have her champions and strength decides the fray, Trust in your powder in your men, and God will give the day. List to that wail on Southern breeze ! your broth- er's tones are there ! They speak and urge you now to come on every breath of air ; 34 FRA ORIENTS. And can ye now forsake them the fearless and the brave ? No j Freemen, No I they've gone before if needs we'll share their grave ! Go ask that Spartan mother, though all her sons have gone, If she'd one more for Freedom's cause she would not urge him on ? I see her dark eye kindle I hear her stern reply, " Go forth my boy, I give you up, there is a God on high ! " And living, is but dying, if with a coward's fear, " You dare not face your country's foe, howe'er he may appear. " Your father, boy, was eager to smite the Briton's pride ; " You are his son- -I know you'll stand firm by your brother's side ; " He gave his life for Freedom and, 'mid the can- non's roar " He only mourned he could not live to give it o'er and o'er ! THE CALL TO FREEMEN. 35 " His spirit now is present his voice is breathing low, " Go forth my boy, your father bids, your father bids you go !" Then give the call! the Eastern States will hurl their legions on, The noble West bear on the cry, Maine join with Oregon ; Atlantic to Pacific speak, and scorning Nations see That Freedom's fires shall brighter glow that men can yet be free. 36 FRAGMENTS. THOUGHTS ON THE ENDING OF THE YEAR. 1865. ND Sixty-Five has gone! that great victo- rious year Has passed all noiseless, but its record's clear ; It speaks a country saved, a flag unfurled ; It speaks of Freedom to the wide, wide world It speaks a mother's heart made glad her boy at home, Alas, it speaks of those who ne'er can come ; It tells a Nation's joy a Nation's grief A Nation's mourning for her fallen Chief. He fell, triumphant, with his armor on ! The night had passed and war's red field been won ; ON THE ENDING OF THE YEAR. 37 Thus, in (iod's morning, when the summons came, He passed to glory and to deathless fame. "Wherever hearts shall beat, his name shall thrill ! Wherever Freedom breathe, his deeds instill ! And LINCOLN'S name, alone, have power to save, And strike the shackles from the tyrant's slave. And Peace has come, and merry bells ring forth, And notes of joy are heard both South and North. Our prayer's been granted, and our God has shown That right must triumph wrong be overthrown. All blessed Peace ! we hail thy genial rays ! We watched thy dawning through the long, long days. The East grew red, then, to our rapturous sight, God wrote his promise in his words of light. The serpent's head was bruised ; the tyrant host "Was put to shame their pride and valor lost ; The sea rolled on though Freedom's wave ran blood, Each drop was pregnant for a Nation's good. 38 FRAGMENTS. Our dead rest well : on many a Southern plain They sunk to sleep, nor summer heat, nor rain, Xor wintry blasts they heed ; they woke to life, And with their flags marched proudly from the strife. Their flags are home; they hang in solemn gloom, And lend a grandeur to the stately room ; Are they not present ? Ask the yearning heart ! Though not in form their spirits ne'er depart. Some died in prison, wasting day by day, Sighing for home, beneath the tyrant's sway, Their freedom came from God not brutal men, And souls went home from many a prison pen. God will avenge the blood of Patriots slain, The car of justice moves in might again. Give thanks to God ! let merry bells ring forth. Their notes of triumph through the South and North, The harvest smiled, nor want nor care should come, To cast a shadow o'er a happy home. ON THE ENDING OF THE YEAR. 39 Give thanks to God and let the notes roll on, The right has triumphed, and the war is done ; Our peace is conquered, and our flag is free, And floats triumphant over land and sea And o'er the ocean, like a guiding star, Its rays are shining through the waste afar, And earth's downtrodden, poor, may come, And find their freedom for 'tis Freedom's home. God pity England though a friend in name, She sowed our ruin, and she reaped her shame ; War's dogs let loose she urged and cheered the pack, And lit the ocean with her pirate's track. Though on her soil the sun may never set, She gropes in darkness and she sees not yet ; Her boast should he that, Where her Sun doth rise, Her Justice sets not, but illumes the skies. E'en now she trembles, for the dark clouds form, She cowers before it for she dreads the storm, And tyrants there, as here, may shortly find Their shackles broken from the limb and mind. 40 FRAGMENTS. Around the festive board, Thanksgiving day, The vacant chairs, spoke many far away ; '.Neath summer skies they sleep perchance " Un- known," They had their union near their Father's throne. And Christmas time came by with merry bell, Christ died for them they know, and feel full well ; The sword is sheathed the thunders died away, They gamed their freedom when they left their clay. Then welcome 'Sixty-six nor man can know Your coming record as thy stream doth flow ; Upon thy waves perchance we joyful glide. And float all heedless down thy rapid tide. The sea is reached and many ere this year Has run, must sink, and many, a doubt and fear Will perish as your waves roll on, And many rise before your race is done. And farewell 'Sixty-five thou'rt Freedom's year ! You rose in darkness but you set all clear ! ON THE ENDING OF THE YEAR. 41 And gray-haired Sires whom danger ne'er could daunt, Will breathe their blessings on the name of GRANT. And.SiiEKMAN's march, triumphant, to the sea, The child will hear that prattles by the knee ; And every second of thy course be fraught With memory's tear, and memory's pleasing thought. 42 FRAGMENTS. THE "BLUE" AND THE "GRAY." APRIL 9, 1865. HE stars o'er two armies the " Blue " and the u Gray," To-night in the South-land are twinkling away ; It seems but a dream but, thank God, it is more, The Right is triumphant the Contest is o'er. The flag that earth's heroes in glory unfurled, The terror of despots the hope of the world Comes out of the smoke and the roar of the strife, Baptized with the blood that has poured for its life. 'Tis Sabbath ! all holy and nothing alarms ! The cannon are silent and stacked are the arms ; For years they have thundered by night and by day, And Death reaped his harvest, the "Blue'' and the " Gray," THE "BLUE" AND THE "GRAY." 43 All quiet ! The picket to-night breathes a sigh ! His home and the loved ones seem wondrously nigh ! He whispers a blessing that " Peace " has been won. Yet starts at each footstep, and looks to his gun ! Oh Picket ! this night in advance of the " Blue," Our hopes and our country hung trembling on you; Through colcl and through hunger through dark- ness so drear, You swerved not, nor faltered, and morning is here! No longer the marches, the shriek of the shell, The ground strewn with dying, and earth made a hell ; No longer the fears in the homes ' far away," For the stars whisper, " Peace !" o'er the " Blue " and the " Gray." 44 FRAGMENTS. One fought for" a Country, for Freedom, for Right, And Heaven hath crowned it with glory to-night; The other, with madness, rushed forth to the fray, And passed with its flag, in dishonor away. The contest was fearful, the years were so long, And Fortune seemed guarding the cause of the wrong ; But the Picket looks upward, his troubles will cease And Hope gilds with glory the sweet name of "Peace!" POETICAL PARAPHRASE. 45 POETICAL PARAPHRASE. VI. SATIRK, II. BOOK, HORACE. " Hoc erat in volis " Y heart longed earnestly for these : * A tract of ground, well fringed with trees ; Not over large, and also near, A gurgling fountain deep and clear. For me the Gods have better done ! And well it is, O Maia's son ! No more I ask, no more from thee, But that they e'er remain to me ; If I by fraud have nothing gained, Nor lost by vice and have abstained From offering up these foolish prayers : " O, that this spot was mine, not theirs. 46 FRAGMENTS. " Which now my little farm makes drear ! " O, how I wish chance might appear, " And show me where deep hid in earth, " Lie countless treasures free from dearth ! " As he who serving, tilling ground, " The same soon bought with money found, " And rose to affluence in the end, " For valiant Hercules was his friend !" If what there is, my mind doth please, Thee I address with prayers like these : " Make fat my cattle but my mind u Turn sprightly, hidden truths to find ! " And be to me a guardian true, " To bear me all my dangers through !"' Then when from city's dusty street, Some Sylvan grove forms my retreat, Flow better can I spend my days, Than penning satires rural lays ? Ambition bears no grief to me, The leaden Auster murmureth free ; POETICAL PARAPHRASE. 47 And Autumn brings me pleasant hours, And Libitina's gain ne'er sours. Pater Matutine ! or, Janus, Thou ! By whom -men first labors undergo, Come be thou present with thy fire, And grant me strength to strike the lyre ! And by thy orders I depart, Another's bail in Rome's great mart. " Quick ! make thee haste, lest one before, " Of this, thy part, should be the doer I" And I must go where north winds roar, And wintry days e'er decrease more ! Then speaking clearly to my harm, The jostling crowd my words alarm ; Insult the tardy by my speed, " What mean you madman ? Take you heed ! " Must you push down all that's before, " To reach with haste Macenas' door ?" And one, more surly than the rest, Says everything, except, " Be blest !" 48 FRA GXENTS. This pleases and is sweet to me, I must not lie where'er I be. The black Esquilise then draw near ; A hundred plans buzz round me here : One is, that Roscius begs of me, 'Fore eight on morrow him to see ! " And you, O Quintus, should devise, " For greater plans before us rise ! " Has great Macenas set his seal " To documents of woe or weal ? But when I answer : " I will try !'' " You can T' adds he, more earnestly. The seventh year now draws to its end, From whence I ranked Macenas' friend ; That is, as one whom he would trust In chariot rumbling through the dust ; And these small trifles would propose : " Can Syrus stand Gallina's blows 2" " The mornings, I think, grow more drear !" And such like, for a leaky ear. POETICAL PARAPHRASE. 49 Yet all the people think that he Entrusts his great affairs to me. Are any rumors in the street ? I'm stopped by each and all I meet, And asked: " Good sir for you must know, " How stands it with the Dacians now ?" But when my ignorance I plead, " What ! wilt e'er joke ? there is no need !" " But may the Gods me ever rack, " If I know aught," 1 answer back; " Are Dacian or Italian lands " Granted as farms for Gsesar's bands?" But when I say " I nothing know !" Their wonder greater still doth grow ; Admiring me, as keeping still, On what a mighty brain doth fill. And 'mong these things the days go by ; " Oh, wretched me !" I groan and sigh ! " Oh, farm ! when shall I thee behold '* " When shall this life appear less cold ? 7 50 FRAGMENTS. " When shall Pythagoras' kindred bear., " And pot-herbs, seasoned well, be seen ?" Oh, Nights and godlike Suppers ! Yon Have me regaled with friends e'er true ! My pert slaves also have their share Of hallowed viands, rich and rare; And as each one may have the mind, He quaffs his goblets, no laws bind ; Whether the toper runs it o'er, Or mellow grows by drinking lower. And friendly speech springs up meanwhile 'Tis not of dome's or temple's style, Nor whether Lepos dances well or not ! Such things as these are here forgot ; But what is better far to know, About the highest good belo\v. Whether wealth or virtue can befriend, And whicli stands conqueror in the end. And 'mongst these Cervius prates away Old tales, on whatsoe'er we say. For should one praise Aurelius' gold ; He tells this one, 'tis good if old : POETICAL PARAPHRASE. A country mouse so runs the tale, Who had his-cave in some lone dale, A city mouse did once invite, His friend and guest and great delight, To share his cave ; he ope'd his soul, And hoarded vetches out did roll ; Long oats he freely did bestow, And all he had to him did go, Desiring, by his dainties rare, His squeamishness would disappear ; Whilst he, stretched out on well lain straw, Ground coarser food within his maw. At last the city mouse outspoke : " How comes it friend you bear the yoke u Of living patient in this dell ? " Would'st not prefer with men to dwell ? ' Come ! take your journey ! go with me ! " Since mortal souls all have like thee, " And death must come to great and sma'l. u Wherefore, my friend, make this life all !" 52 FRA GMENTZ. The simple mouse drunk in the tale, And nimbly springs without his pale ; And now the twain rush swiftly on, To end their jaunt ere day has gone. When Luna's rays shone in the sky, They spied a stately mansion nigh ; And entered it with eager haste, Where crimson carpets showed rare taste, And many a fragment scattered lay, Of some grand feast of yesterday. Then with his rustic friend at ease, As nimble host he tries to please ; And brings up dishes, one by one, Tasting, to see if they are done. Whilst he, on couch, at ease prone lies, And marks his friend with loving eyes. When, suddenly, the rattling door Makes both to scamper o'er the floor ! The dogs bark loudly through the hall, The lofty house resounds each call ! POETICAL PARAPHRASE. 53 The rustic, out, says to his friend, ' This life to me no joy can lend ! "' And now good-by ! my wood and dell, " With scanty store, I like full well !" o4 FRA GMENTS. GKA ND310 THER. 55 GRANDMOTHER. IIE sits all day by the idle wheel, As the grand-child softly in doth steal ; The cat's at play on the well-worn floor, And the clock ticks on o'er the ancient door. The fragrant breath of the new-mown hay, Comes up from the meadow this summer day : The dreamy hours seem to whisper " Rest ! ' As the bird trills love to its mate in nest. Oh, little girl ! it will not be long, Ere she will sleep, where no bird's sweet song Can reach her ear and our grief you'll share, When you look with tears on her vacant chair. 56 FRAGMENTS. Her thoughts go back when the Summer smiled. And she walked forth as a careless child ; But the years went by with their woe and weal, And she sleeps to-day by her spinning-wheel. TO A LAKE. 57 TO A LAKE. OUN TAINS around thee rise Above, below, the skies ; The wild fawn, timid, from the leafy brake, Starts at his imaged form, in thee, fair Lake. The woods embrace thee round ; Each height with foliage crowned ; But few have e'er beheld thy smiling face, Thou jewel, set with Nature's loveliest grace ! The wild bird flies o'erhead, Or, 011 thee, has no dread ; The little brook that wooed thee through the day, Melts with thy waters into song, away. 8 58 FRAGMENTS. Thou glassy mirror, fair ! My thoughts are wand'ring, where, This summer day, thou laughest in thy pride, And I, alas, am far from thy loved side ! For to earth's wearied mind, A pleasure, undefined, Thou bring'st to him, who, far from bustling street, Communes with Nature in her own retreat. Undine-like, I see Fair forms arise from thee ! And from thee come sweet words to cheer my heart, I know thou chidest, that I keep apart. I shall be near thee, soon ! The balmy breath of June Shall greet me, wand'ring, 'neath thy wild- wood's shade, Where oft, o'er flow'ry banks, my feet have strayed. TO THE KENNEBEG. 59 TO THE KEKNEBEC. H, sweet flowing river ! how oft by thy side, In childhood's bright days I have wan- dered along ; When the world was all bright, and my thoughts, like thy tide, Danced out to an ocean of music and song. Thou, still, art the same : but, alas, I am not ! Grown older, the charm and the freshness have fled ; Some friends that I loved have grown cold have forgot And some now are sleeping the sleep of the dead. 60 FRAGMENTS. Your white-winged ships you still bear to the sea ; I once thought that pleasure must follow them on, And far o'er the waters my thoughts went with thee, They went into dream-land, where I, too, was gone. I know now that tempest, and darkness, and gloom, Encircle them round both by night and by day ; That many are mold'ring in ocean's drear tomb, And tears bring not back what your tide bore away. Yet, sweet flowing river! my thoughts once again, Shall turn, as in childhood, all fondly to thee; Deal kind with thy treasures, I'll love thee, as when My thoughts, like thy waters, danced out to the sea. THE PINE TREE STATE. Q\ THE PINE TREE STATE. "DIRIGO." 4 IIOU first in the light of the morning ! Thou first in the light of the truth ! " Dirigo," thy forehead adorning ! All fresh with the vigor of youth ! Lead on in the march of the nations ! Our hopes and our prayers are with thee ! Stand firm for a Country's salvation, Upright as thy stately pine tree ! " What news from 'the east ?" is now ringing O'er mountain and forest and plain ; The heralds glad tidings are bringing ; E'er true to her record is Maine. 62 FRA GMENTS. Lead on, with thy colors proud flying ! Lead on, in the cause of the Right! All danger, for Freedom, defying, Thou first in the beams of the light ! DESERTED. 63 DESERTED. HE river flows fast to the sea to-day, Deserted I wander forlorn ; Its tide, as it passes, seems sadly to say, Life's hopes and its pleasures are gone ! The old house stands, by its well known shore, Deserted a thing of the past ; That dream of the morning has swiftly passed o'er, The shadows of night gather fast. The river flows back but it brings not the joy, That went, long ago, on its tide ; It brings but remembrance of days when a boy, I wandered, its waters, beside. 64 FR- GMENTS. I think of the times when the e'er open door Spoke welcome to each happy guest ; The river sobs on as it tells, o'er and o'er, That those that I loved are at rest. The river flows fast to the sea to-day ; Deserted I wander forlorn ; Its tide, as it passes, seems sadly to say, Life's hopes and its pleasures are gone. SPRING. 65 SPRING. ACK to our clime again a Maiden hies ; ^ At first too coy, with downcast, modest eyes; The violets greet her, and the song-birds sing, And trill the praises of their mistress, Spring. Stern Winter's hand is loosed the brook runs free, The blade grows green the bud adorns the tree ; "Where'er her light foot falls, a trace remains, And beauty nestles o'er our hills and plains. Sweet time of Spring ! What memories flood the heart ! What dreams of rapture doth her name impart ! She grows in beauty through her lengthening hours, And girlish Summer walks amongst her flowers. 66 '-LOST." "LOST!' GOOD ship sailed from a land-locked bay, Far out to the distant west ; And we watched her long, till she sank away, And thought of the time of that not far day, She'd enter a port of rest. She passed from sight, and was seen no more ! Who knows how the wild waves tossed ? How 'gainst the tempest and storm she bore, And, perchance, went down near her destined shore, With the wild waves howling, " lost !" 'Tis a dismal sound, yet more sad, each day, Are the wrecks in this life we see ; And passion's waves have a fiercer sway, For they whelm the soul with the mold'ring clay 'T is " lost " for eternity. SA VED." SAVED. HE demon wind shrieking its horrors bespeaking, We float but a hull on the wild, raging sea ; Do we speak? None can hear us! The craggy shore near us ; And Death seems to whisper : " Just under the lee !" The lead gives its warning; each thought of the morning Is pregnant with gloom, with a wreck on the shore. But never despairing his face a smile wearing, The sailor hopes on he has left nothing more. 68 FRAGMENTS. " Light ho !" is now ringing the beacon-light flinging Its rays through the darkness, shines dim to our sight, And joy usurps sorrow we know that the morrow Will find us, safe anchored, inside of the light. Thus over life's surges when drear are its dirges. And Hope almost leaves us, cast down in deep fear, The soul that ne'er chiding, in God all confiding, Is " saved," for its refuge forever is near. TO . 69 TO HOU wert deceitful, yet thou wert all truth ; My whole thoughts, once, were pleasant dreams of thee ; Without thy presence I had lost the light, And now I live, though thou art gone from me. We left, forgetting yet not all forgot ; We can not meet, as we have met, again ; 'Twas not in anger that we said, " Good-by !" We left in sorrow that we could not feign. A change had come ! a shadow o'er the sky, We knew not whence, if shadow be the name ; A certain something brought a wondrous change, Yet thou, at least, canst take no share of blame. 70 FRAGMENTS. ' Thou wert deceitful !" did I say ? " To whom 2" Deceit was ne'er thy nature, nor could be ; Our paths diverge, and though they ne'er may meet, I can but think of what thou wert to me. NEW ENGLAND. 71 NEW ENGLAND. ilfET them boast of their climes where Summer e'er smiling, Gilds bright with its glories, the long, fragrant day; Where Nature adorns, and her smile, so beguiling, Wooes mortals from cares and from labors away ! Deceitful that smile for the fetters are riven, And mortal, all hopeless, must e'er drag the chain ; No light springs from thence for earth's tyrants have given That land of the sun, into bondage again ! 72 FEA GMENTS. But whence come the rajs, that, the heavens adorn- ing, Shine forth for all nations to bask in their lio;ht ? O Which give us the noon-day which give us the morning, Whose progress is onward dispelling the night ! They spring from NEW ENGLAND that fountain of learning, Thy land of all others that tyrants most dread ; The star, that earth's poor and oppressed, in their yearning, Take courage at seeing shine bright overhead. Though cold be thy clime when, the wintry winds sighing, Bring home from the ocean thy treasures again, Yet warm are the hearts, that, all danger defying, E'er true to their GOD and their country remain. NEW ENGLAND. 73 They call thee, "fanatic /" and hoot, in derision ! NEW ENGLAND, "fanatic f" Thank (rod it is so ! Her arm though is strong, and undimmed is her vision, She cowers to no traitor she shrinks from no blow. 74 FRAGMENTS. ONLY A CHILD. a child that was killed in the street ; Wandering there with her poor weary feet ; u No one's to blame !" and the driver looked wild, Saying, " It's lucky 'twas only a child !" Only a child yet the crowd presses on ; Take her away for the spirit has gone ; Gone from its anguish, its prison, its woe, Up to its Maker who sent it below. Pity her not ! She had no loving home ; Father a drunkard, her fate was to roam ; Weary and hungry to beg for her bread, Pity her not ! for, at last, she is dead. ONLY A CHILD. 75 Hollow-eyed ragged deformed from her birth. All have refused her a home but the earth ; Poor little feet that have wandered too long, Pure, sinless heart that has ne'er known the wrong. Only a child and there falleth no tear; No one remains, that will think of her here ; But 'mongst the blessed the Father sweet smiled, And angel-harps welcomed a glad, radiant child. 76 FRAGMENTS. words been said ! And we must part ; This gloom y earth, With general dearth, Has scenes like these to rend the heart. The loved must part from those they love ! Though friendship's tear Would hold them here, Their Saviour's voice calls them abova The Christian says, " I 'm going home !" " I've breasted life, " And ceased its strife," In golden streets my feet shall roam " ON THE DEPARTURE OF S- . 77 " 'Tis time to go !" the sailor cries : He spreads the sail And 'fore the gale, From those he loves, his vessel flies. Thus in the happiest hours we know, When pleasures cup, Is foaming up, We hear the dirge, " 'Tis time to go !" Then cherished friend, a fond adieu ! Nor time, nor space, Can e'er efface The memory of our friendship true. Fit A GMENTS. SUMMER. 3, rosy Summer smiles !" and from her throne ^J| of flowers, She scatters perfume through the livelong day ; Babbling sweet words to charm the list'ning hours, She trips with pleasure and with song away. The fields are green, or show their changing hues ; The swallow's shadow swiftly skims the ground ; Dame Nature's mirror gleams with countless views, And peace and plenty seem to smile around. The brook pays tribute to the noon-day sun, And laughing children cross its shallow bed ; The woods resound with ring of huntsman's gun ; The clouds seem sporting as they fly o'erhead. SUMMER. 79 The night breathes still, if we can call that night, Which comes all radiant with its jeweled crown ; The moon floats on; the stars with eyes of light, Look from their ocean in contentment down. Sweet time of peace ! The soul is upward drawn; We look to Him who made and giveth all ; Who opes day's gates and gives the blessed morn, He knows each thought, He marks each spar- row's fall. 80 FRA GMENTS. THOUGHTS ON THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN. "VIVIT POST FUNERA VIRTUS." OWE, I in the sweetness of her young life gone; The loving child, the Christian tried and true, Has passed from earth to Heaven's own, endless morn, To live with Jesus, as she longed to do. Her's was the kindly heart that strove to cheer The poor and needy ; to reform and and bless ; Did sorrow call ? She could but stop to hear ! Did want demand ? She could but answer, u Yes !" They called her " Saint," on earth, and blessed her name; She lives a saint in heaven, and blesses still ; She did not murmur when God's angel came, But, smiling, said : " It is my Master's will." ON THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN. 81 I wandered through the " City of the Dead," And saw the new made grave where sleeps her clay, Beside a mother's, who, long since, had fled. But met her loved one where tnere's no decay. The autumn winds were sighing, bleak and drear, The fallen leaves were rustling all around, Yet, something, told me that He had passed near, And passing, blessed : I felt, 'twas holy ground. I knew that Spring would come again with cheer- ing showers, When wintry winds had passed and ceased to rave, And Summer bloom with all her lovely flowers, And fragrance rise alike from every grave. She is not dead ! she has but gone before; She needs no tears ; this is her only prayer From heaven above : that, when our toils are o'er, We have so lived that she can meet us there. 11 82 FRAGMENTS. EPITAPH. ~ lEXEATH this mound I lie ; You, overhead, With careless step may pass my lowly bed ; Stranger or friend, pass on ! whoe'er you be, Go where thou wilt thy steps but lead to me ! I was ambitious sought to win a name And found the worm respects not rank nor fame. Shed no vain tear ! the pall the sigh the groan, The last farewell must shortly be thine own. I, too, have strayed here in an idle mood ; Where you now stand, perchance I, too, have stood ; Perchance your thoughts were mine unknown to fear, I sought a phantom and it led me here. EPITAPH. 83 I had my joys my friends my hopes my gloom ! I left them all outside this narrow tomb ! Stranger or friend, pass on ! whoe'er you be, You, too, must leave them and become like me. 84 FRA ORIENTS. REFLECTIONS OF AN OLD MAN. STARTED right, and thought the way was P lain ; With my dull eye I thought I all could see : An aged man, I now no more will feign, This life has been a bitter life to me. First Pleasure came, and wooed me with her smile ; I loved the Syren, and obeyed her tone ; O'er many a steep my feet she did beguile, Then left me, wondering where she could have flown ! Then every passion swayed me at its will, E'en as the wind can raise and swell the sea ; But now, the tempest calmed, the wild waves still, An old man humbly bends to THEE. THE COXING OF WINTER. 5 THE COMING OF WINTER. from the icy North the Storm King And Nature shudders at his stern command ; He marks his coming in the leaden skies, And chills his victims with a frozen hand. The trees stand leafless to his chilling blasts, And seem to mourn their wealth of foliage lost ; The bird flies southward yet a sad look cast?, Ere far it flies from storm and blighting frost. The brook grows still that gurgled through the day; The lazy cattle seek the well known shed ; The earth grows white contracts the narrow day, The stars shine brighter from the vast o'erheaL 86 FRA GMENTS. Without, the joyous laugh is heard of happy boys, Who, freed from school, with health and joy elate, With eager haste and ear-appalling noise, Throw down the book to seize the sled or skate. In many a happy home the hearth glows bright, Bright eyes are sparkling, and joy reigns su- preme, The prayer is uttered, then the fond " good night !" And health and virtue guard each sleeper's dream. In homes of want where gaunt-eyed famine stares, The poor, despondent, wail their hapless lot ! Life brings to them no joy, but bitter cares, To die neglected and to be forgot. Oh, ye, who happier are, turn not away ! Stretch forth the helping hand relieve distress ! Your winter, too, may come let pity sway ! And love shall greet you and affection bless. THE COMING OF WINTER. 7 Thus Winter comes and, at the touch of Spring, Reluctant, yields his sway to milder hands ; And homeward hies, where, as perpetual King, He wields his sceptre o'er his barren lands. 88 FRAGMENTS. TO A CHILD. 89 TO A CHILD. EADTIFUL child, in life's radiant morning, When all is fair and the world seeraeth bright, All of our hopes are with thee, must the warning Also be heard, lest thou swerve from the right ? God grant thy little feet never may wander Forth in the cold, dreary, province of sin ! E'er let thy loving heart fonder and fonder Turn to that source whence thy life did begin. Happy to-day with no care for the morrow, Bright is thy sun which now first gilds the sky : Clouds will pass o'er, for this life beareth sorrow Happy thou art. in not knowing it nigh. 12 90 FRAGMENTS. All of our hopes are with thee let them never Sink into darkness, to see thee defiled ! God keep thee, loved one, and grant that, forever, Thou may'st in heart be a pure, sinless child. IN HEMORIAM. IN MEMORIAL "S. F. J." 1863. BOWED my head, and spoke the one word, " gone !" " Whom the Gods love, die young," 'tis said : 'Tis but a pilgrim departed at morn, Leaving before he'd a cold world to dread. " Gone !" 'tis a word that doth harrow my soul ! Loved ones are passing in silence away ; " Gone !" and the bell with its deep, sobbing toll, Tells of a brother now mingling with clay. And can it be that all mortal must fade ? Sweet flowers must wither at autumn's drear blast ; Daylight is mingled with night's dreary shade, Earth and its pleasures, we know, cannot last. 92 FRAGMENTS. But let us joy, when the sun dips the west, He sinks but to rise as refulgent as e'er ; And from the grave to the regions so blessed, Angels are waiting, our spirits to bear. The stream must be crossed though the surges sound drear, The body must yield, though the spirit would stay; Our brother is over we'll shed not a tear ! Why weep, when the darkness gives place unto day. Out on life's sea rides a tempest tossed bark, Far o'er the ocean she holds her lone way ; Billows may roll, or the day may grow dark, Reason or judgment may give her no ray Yet there's a light which is shining for all, Brightly it casts its rays over the sea, Welcome thou beacon ! 'mid night's gloomy pall, All of our hopes and our prayers are with thee. IN MEMORIAM. 93 Yes, though dark clouds may life's pathway ob- scure, And though life's surges break harsh on the ear, There's a haven before us, a light that is sure. The Star of Redemption is shining so clear. Rest then, our brother ! The grave has no woe, Though death's sombre name casts a gloom o'er the heart ; You've left us in tears and in mourning below, To live where's no sorrow, where loved ones ne'er part. 94 FRAGMENTS. T is the resting place of those before us gone, **| Who have lain down to slumber till the morn ; The rich and poor, alike, the strong, inform, Must seek its darkness, and their friend the worm ! It knows no caste ! 'tis dust that lies below. Though marble stone, above, may praise bestow ; The rains will fall, and summer birds will sing, Alike 'bove peasant and the peasant's king. It brings us peace ! the hands that cross the breast, In earth's drear chambers, have at last found rest ; The feet all weary, with the heavy load, No more must hasten o'er life's thorny road. THE CHURCHYARD. 95 The better part has fled ; no grave can keep A human soul, however dark or deep ; Life springs from death, and though enwrapped in gloom, Hope springs, triumphant, from the silent tomb. 96 FRAGMENTS. DISAPPOINTMENT. *t is our common lot ; earth's castles rise At Hope's command and proudly pierce the skies ; They seem secure the sunbeams 'round them P la J> "We look again they have dissolved away. Have gone fore'er ! one breath but o'er them passed, They disappeared ; too frail to longer last : And with them went the joys, that cheered us pn, The short-lived pleasures, that, we find, have gone. We bow the head and murmur 'gainst our lot ; We grasped a phantom but \ve held it not ; It smiled so sweetly, that we called it u Friend v It turned to ashes in the very end. DISAPPPOINTED. QT It lured us on, e'er keeping in advance ; It led us headlong, through life's giddy danca ; But disappointment marked its final goal, And cast its shadow o'er the weary soul. It is our common lot ! both rich and poor Must feel its blight ; earth's hopes are not secure ; It comes with sorrow and its name is filled With joys long vanished -hopes all unfulfilled. 13 98 FRAGMENTS. LINES. ON TH3 DEATH OP A FRIEND WHO DIED AT HAVANA. E died from home : far, in a distant land, From those he loved, he laid him down to sleep ; Earth's scenes are o'er, but Faith uplifts her hand And points above ; he would not have us weep, The loved must die ! the brother dear has gone, The son confiding, and the friend so true ; 'Tis but before, for we are hast'ning on, And soon shall meet him and our love renew. Safe o'er life's ocean, 'mid the howling blast, He shaped his course, nor bowed him to the gale; God's light was seen, his harbor gained at last, No more through tempests must his bark now sail. THE IDEAL WORLD. 99 THE IDEAL WORLD. ''HERE is a land where the sunbeams are glist'ning, It is a land which all mortals may know ; Often we rove there, and stand vaguely list'ning, Reveling 'mid objects that dwell not below. Bright are its plains with sweet flowers ever bloom- ing, Time has no sway in those regions sublime; Castles and turrets within it are looming, What shall I say is the name of this clime ? It is the Dream Land ! of fancies the dwelling ; It is the threshold of that great " to be," From whence the music of angel harps swelling Fills all our souls with its sweet melody. 100 FRAGMENTS. Drear is this earth, and its shadows are falling Over the pathway, perforce, we must tread ; Time never loiters each second is calling: O Some one from life, to the home of the dead. But in our visions, the loved, the departed, Come once again as in blest days of yore ; Drying the tears of earth's poor, broken-hearted, Telling of glories, of life evermore. Is it ideal, that the spirit, upspringing, Leaves its dull body to slumber below ? Death is but life ! as the ages are ringing ; " Over the river " we see the bright slow. Hast tbou not heard 'tis a strange, ancient story, Of a fair island where death never came ? E'en the poor Indian has dreamed of its glory, And, dying, has whispered its sweet breathing name. THE IDEAL WORLD. 101 u Isle of the Blessed ! unseen o'er the ocean ! Fancy has pictured thy regions sublime ; Life-giving streams in their musical motion, Wash out the foot-prints of death-dealing time. Land of Immortals ! your blue skies are smiling Somewhere, I know, though they're seen but in dreams ; Not as a mirage, deceptive, beguiling, Nor wholly departing at morning's bright beams. Life is but thought ; and should we call seeing With the dull eye though the organ of sight, All of our vision? The soul has a being, Wandering at will through the regions of light. Knowing no shackles, ne'er drooping, nor dying, W here the poor body must stop, it can roam ; In the Ideal ! and, methinks, it turns sighing, Joining with sorrow its poor, earthly home. 102 FRAGMENTS. Nature is speaking ; Each bud in expanding : Cover the seed ! 'tis the germ of the tree : "What is the lesson to our understanding ? This is its teaching Immortality. Nothing is lost ; though in gloom and in sorrow, Death takes a loved one and bears him away, The sun that goes down, sinks to rise on the mor- row, And light springs from darkness and life from decay. Is it ideal when the soul, ever longing, Peoples a world with its visions of light ? Calling up objects that ever are thronging Visions that come from the shadows of night ? t Hast thou not gazed on the vast, surging ocean, Dashing its waves on the wild, craggy shore, Telling and chanting with deep-toned emotion Tales of such grandeur ne'er thought of before? THE IDEAL WORLD. 1Q3 Or in deep woods when the moonbeams are falling, When the dark shadows cause spectres to rise, Hast thou heard, as it were, a voice calling, As though the angels spoke soft from the skies ? Then to their Maker, unconscious, we wander, Awe-stricken think " And does He care for me?" ' Is He not speaking? "we ask, and we ponder, Dreaming sweet dreams of the life yet to be ! Call these but fancies ! they yet have a meaning, Deeper than mortals, perchance, here can know ; He, who in sorrow and gloom is now gleaning, May gather rejoicing, the harvest shall glow. 104 FRAGMENTS. STAXZAS. HE loveliest flower that now is blooming, Scenting sweet the Summer air, When the autumn winds are sighing, Fades and dies although so fair. The forest tree that now is flinging Branches to the wind in scorn, When the woodman's axe is ringing, Crashing, falls, its glory gone. And e'en man, who dreams of glory, Fast is hast'ning to the tomb ; And his deeds are but a story Told with joy, but closed in gloom. BASE BALL. 105 BASE BALL. OU ask me, Dear sir (and you are not to blame,) " To tell you the points of our "National dame !" " Why they only take nine on a side, an 1 not ten? " And who is the basest of all the base men ?" You ask me again and it is apropos, " Why they stop on a " foul," and the pitcher don't throw ? " Why a "fly," when it's taken, produces alarm, " How a ball gets " red hot ?" why a " muff" causes harm ?" 106 FRAGMENTS. Yon ask ine, " the pleasure ?" and here I look wise, And answer you thwly : first rolling my eyes, (Though I ne'er played a game) yet I boldly will speak, For he knows the most who "goes in on his cheek" "Why, you see, sir, the pleasure consists in the fact, ' That the pleasure consists in the consumate tact " Of the pleasure !" At this point I stop, For I find my poor friend about ready to drop ; In fact, as a joke, though it is 'bout the worst I ever got off, he goes " out on the first." " Tis the great aim of life !" " It is the all in all P " Young man leave your business, but leave not base ball ! " Why the village of Pokeville, with forty-four men, "J3o divided these up, that of clubs it had ten. BASE BALL. 107 " And Stubbville, my friend, grew alarmed, for 'twas said ' That Pokeville was getting a little ahead ; " So they straight called a meeting, and here is the rub, " Every man in the town of himself made a dub ! " "Why Sir ! here's an instance of progress in life : " I well know a man with a child and a wife, " Who lived by his labor, had no hopes to shine, "And now he's third base on tha "Roaring Bull Nine !" ' 'Tis true he is poor and his wife suffers some; " That his nose has turned red and his breath smells of rum ; " That his child goes in rags, but his club, t'other day, " Beat the club out to Beanville, at least so they say. " This is only one case, but I could mention more, " Of just such advancements ; I know a full saora ; 108 FRAGMENTS. " Why you see, my dear friend," I was still going on, But on looking 'round, I found out he had gone. INFANCY. 109 INFANCY. l: I DREAMT I AVAS A IME of the measles and the whooping- cough, When Death gets wearied taking young-ones off ! Time of the colic and the midnight yell, An humble bard would fain thy glories tell ! Delightful period of infantile joy ! When careful nurses soothe the " darling boy !" With life all pure and undefined by sin, He rests his head on some protruding pin. Time that must come to wise man and to dunce, Ambrosial nectar that we sip but once ! Time of the hopes that ne'er can be fulfilled I wonder that more young-ones are not killed ! HO FRAGMENTS. Time when we know the most we e'er can know ; Time when we sleep and folks can ' see us grow ;" Time when we're lovely "-though a perfect fright ; I pray you Time don't backward turn," to-ni.-ht f JT* Time of all times the best and yet the worst ! Time of all times the last and yet the first ! I can but bless thee that thou hast passed by, And wait thy second birth, which I feel nio-1, } * "LOVER'S RETREAT." Ill "LOVER'S RETREAT. i is blushing at the kiss of sun, jf^|rr 'The Day God, smiling,sinks, his course well run ; The tall tro >s arch o'erhead, and Nature, sweet, Proclaims t is chosen spot her own retreat. At such p, time, alone, in idle mood, My steps have led me through this fragrant wood ; The flowers around me spring the birds sing love, And Beiuty holds her reign, below, above. The brook's sweet murmur, 'neath the sylvan shade, Steals fraught with music from the opening glade ; Afar, frojm busy town, the chiming bell, Day's closing hour, in harmony, doth tell. 112 FRAGMENTS. How many a bashful maid and ardent ; wain \ Have passed, all fondly, o'er this lovely plain J And shaped their future, whilst, with in - iric pdwer, They felt the influence of the place th hour. Perchance 'twas long ago that here th< And told their tales of love beneath thi -hade Tet mem'ry e'er will turn to scenes lik these, And lead them, dreaming, 'neath the ar lung trees. The clouds grow darker in the western sky ; I homeward turn yet breathe a fond good-by ; And oft when wand'ring through the dusty street, I, too, will dream of Nature's fair retreat. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-lGOm-9,'52(A3105)444 09 Fragments UCLA-Young Research Library PS2509 .O97f yr L 009 576 957 6 PS 2^09 097f llT IT I1 1 fTi m LIBRARY FACILITY AA 001234084 o