BIRCH-ROD DAYS AND OTHER POEMS. WILLIAM C. JONES. CHICAGO: AMERICAN PUBLISHERS' ASSOCIATION. 1892. COPYRIGHT 1892. WILLIAM C. JONES. MARY MY PLAYMATE WHEN A CHILD; THE IDOL OF MY BOYHOOD WILD; THE DEAKEST WIFE OF MANHOOD DAYS- I WILL TO THEE INSCRIBE MY LAYS. THE WATER LILY. Rippling rills that run down to the sea, Are but tears which the winter has shed ; When the Flower- Angel melts them all free And her cold, chilly ice-chains have fled. If the stars be the flowers of the heaven! Then the flowers are the stars of the earth ; Which God in compassion has given To us priceless for beauty and worth. We garland the bride of the morrow With the fairest and loveliest bloom; We place them in wreaths in our sorrow When the coffin is laid in the tomb. A joy to the sad ones left weeping ; An emblem of the rich golden-dawn ; Of spring-time the Father is keeping In heaven where the loved ones have gone. "Take this," and most sacredly guard it, It is Truth's germ, I give to your clan; ii THE WATER LILY. From the Flower-Angel ever regard it A rare bulb that is priceless to man! A bloom 'twill in beauty glow ever, Kesplendent in the sunshine or rain , 'Twill free thee of vice from sin sever Truth I give thee to always maintain. A slave to base passions, and in crime, Man trod Truth prostrate under his feet; In the marshes, in filth, and in slime Her destruction and loss seemed complete. Winter drew near with her tears all chilled; Her storms raging on seas, and the lands ; Rains beat down and the marshes were filled, And ice-fettered by her cold, cold hands. And God smote man for his sin and lust ; And for his struggle for worldly power ; Not willing to love or Him to trust Until the final and fatal hour. A window in heaven is open thrown, And the Flower- Angel breathes upon earth; All nature smiles, and the valleys groan Teeming in beauty, and lovely birth. THE WATER LILY. iii The valleys rejoice; the rooks laugh loud; While the green-covered trees clap their hands ; The hills sing out ; and the mountains proud Echo the refrain over the lands. The waters wide now cover the place Of brutish man's sad and reckless ruth ; Where once he had trampled in disgrace The Flower -Angel's bulb, the germ of Truth. A maiden came there with her lover fair, And she launched her light boat on the deep; In sailing around espied what were Twelve spotless white flowers quite fast asleep. The maid bent low at the lovely scene, Then touching the fairest of the flowers, "Why not, fair sister, O water queen, Join us in this fairy-land of ours? " "Dearest maiden, I'm thy sistor Truth, Whom the Flower- Angel gave away Unto a man in his reckless youth, With whom I loved and I longed to stay. iv THE WATER LILY. "But he crushed me, and I bleeding died, And was buried in the marshes low, Where the Flower- Angel came and me espied, Then soon again I began to grow. "Luxuriant leaves of the richest green, And lovely white flowers, spotless and pure; Crown now my head as the water-queen, O'er the deep disgrace I couldn't endure. " And the maiden bent low her head once more: "Thy name shall be Lily," she softly said; " White Water-Lily Truth, I adore, Purest, and fairest, raise up thy head! " The Lily said, " There's not a stain, Though bitter my hours in life now past, 'Truth crushed co earth shall rise again,' Be true to herself until the last." The Lily shall be an emblem pure Of virtue, beauty, and lovely grace ; And woman's love will ever endure In the heart of man to hold first place. CONTENTS. PROEM : The Water Lily. A Charivari - 150 A Guest of the Club 132 Allie - 179 A Merciless Mind - - - 131 An Episode - 175 An Ill-Formed Alliance - - 219 An Ill-Sorted League 217 Autumn Leaves - - 101 Avarice 119 Best Look Before You Leap - 163 Better Than Gold - 77 Birch-Rod Days 17 Caution - - 153 Changes - - I 87 Christmas - - 215 Coins - 235 Crafty - 212 Cupid and Death Dame Fortune - ~ H7 Daunt Not the Spirit - 191 Deception Discontent - 155 Discretion Dissension - 205 Drones vs. Bees - " 115 CONTENTS. Fail Not - - - - 91 Flattery - . 161 Forgive, O That Religion - - - 193 Friendship's Disease - . -SI Help - 167 Hypocrisy . . - 173 Idle-whiles ... 79 Idly-Heeding - % . - 123 In Contempt - - - - 159 In Fancy Dreaming - . . - 71 Integrity - - - - 163 Keats 4? Labor has Its Reward - - - - 157 Life's Grapes - ... 224 Lingering at the Grave - - - 52 Little Lights . . . - 39 Little Physician - - - - 180 Love's Arrows - - an oy Luxury and Ease - . - 176 Madie Green - . . -102 Mine, Only Mine - ... 99 Mocking-bird and Jay - . . - 88 Molliter Manus Imposuit - - - 169 My Florida - . . . - 51 My Lady Fair - - - - - 207 My Loves - - - - - 233 My Mary - - - 185 Old Age - - - - - 72 Oppression - - - 231 Our Country Home - . . - 75 Our Faithful Servants - - - 125 CONTENTS. iii Polly, You Talk Too Much - 143 Recompense - 149 Rejected - - 90 Scotch Letter - 209 Sic Iter Ad Astra - - 64 Sleep and Hope - - 105 Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child - 129 Summer's Labor - - 203 Sunny Southern Home - - 97 Sweet Lady, I Love Thy Fair Face - % Temporal Power - - - 195 The Battle-Flag - 83 The Cross Ill-Natured Man - . . 60 The Dancing Kid - 127 The Disastrous Crossing - - 147 The Farmer's Soliloquy - - 173 The Felon's Dream - 94 The Felon's Soliloquy - 43 The Fireside 213 The Harvest of Death - 40 The Man of Dignity - 139 The Miser - 225 The Mocking-bird - 48 The Orator - 63 The Relation of Man to Nature - - 239 The Reward of Stealth - - 229 Tae Smile of Woman - 145 The Templar - 85 The Thrush - 121 The Train - 55 The Traitor Bird - - - - - 108 iv CONTENTS. The Tree and the Rose - 58 The Twilight Shades - 81 The Wabash - 111 The World is Cold and Dreary 109 Three Plagues - 189 To Mary: 194 To My Wife - 73 To PortiaJ 190 Transformation - - 137 Treacherous Friendship 233 True Might - 199 Union is Strength 123 Valor - 141 What Is Fame? C7 What Is Life? - - 183 What Is There Better Man Can Do? - 197 When Fortune Frowns - 45 Who May Serve Well? - 113 BIRCH-ROD DAYS AND. OTHER POEMS. BIRCH-ROD DAYS. Fond memory still recalls the day Of tyrannizing birch-rod sway, When sturdy teacher, of the old-time school, Did govern well with rod and rule. His unrelenting look, his solemn mien, May, in imagination, still be seen j And the truant, disobedient of his law, Recalls how quick he was to find some flaw ; Remembers youthful days the days of woe When oft was dealt the unforgiving blow Upon the back, oft minus coat and vest, Of hapless youth, for trifles, thus opprest. Who dared to look or feel a moment gay, it his coercion all that dav! 18 BTRCH-ROD DAYS Well calculated to suppress all noise, His laws inexorable were for boys. We would rebel, yet each rebellious time Were scored with the birch-rod, as for some crime. Forgive him ! Never ! My heart revolting swells With wicked thoughts, when back my memory dwells. Yet, I remember, when in days now past, We were all taught to spell, alike and fast j To syllable and pronounce were taught it well Taught from the spelling book learned how to spell j The class in reading, from books, were taught to read. The teacher had one purpose to succeed j And grammar, boys and girls were sparse Who could not give the well-known rules and parse; Each winter brought us to the rule of three, And we could cipher well for well could he; In writing the teacher would oft indite This couplet, in our home-made copy-books to write : " A man of words and not of deeds Is like a garden full of weeds." And well we wrote, and there was scarce a blot For praises from his grace quite oft were sought AND OTHER POEMS. 19 But never given, unless true worth was there Worth was not found, if it was, I'm not aware. Among them all, alone there is but one My memory loves to dwell upon; He spared the rod on me, a helpless wight, And made me love him, ruled me not by might j Judge was he then, as now supreme Best of them all, be he alone my theme : ACROSTIC. Just man ! A friend to my early days, All hail, for thee can I sing praise ! Clear was thy head in discrimination then [men ; Oft hast thou since shown it 'mong thy walks with Brilliant in speech, sweet voiced also j [show. When first I knew thee, thou did'st thy greatness When in my boyhood days, young, frank and free, In thy tuition I loved to be ; Led by thy teaching we first inclined Knowledge to obtain for the youthful mind. Infinite thy kind offices we name thee Noblest of men true as man can be. 20 BIRCH-ROD DAYS As the mind recalls those days, I am proud There is one enduring without a cloud To darken. Brilliant to-day bright was then - Best of dear teachers loveliest of men ; Who ruled and governed well one always may Kindly without dictatorial sway. My memory loves to dwell upon those days For even 'midst the clouds of mist and haze Life's brightest sunshine will appear When looking back o'er times we now revere. Ah, chilling time! we turn aside to glance And find thy fancied visions all romance ; Thy fondest hopes, thy brightest dreams,' Sad memories for life's after themes. We hear no more the gentle, child-like voice, Who long, long years ago was youthful choice Of one who bent with years, now silvered gray, Waits but for time to bear his cares away; Waits for the hour to come when life is o'er, When he shall join her on the other shore. AND OTHER POEMS. CLARA. I think me now of one sweet girl, That was the gem, 'mong many a maiden pearl, That grew in loveliness and grace Until we loved her time will ne'er efface The memory of her sparkling eyes Bright as the stars, that nightly jewel skies ; And the wavy tresses of her dark-brown hair Were soft and silken, as her face was fair ; Lithe was her form, each perfect part Chiseled as 'twere for the sculptor's art ; With voice full round, so soft and sweet, She spoke not word you would not wish repeat. But like the wild flowers we used to gather And bring to her from off the heather, She too has faded. Gone now to rest With Him who gave that angel spirit blest Unto the friends, who lingering stay To watch and weep o'er now her lifeless clay. Who is there that hath not stood by the grave Of some dear friend, and tried most brave 22 B1KCH-ROD DAYS To stop the silent tear that trickled down with sorrow All the fond hopes of the bright to-morrow? Who is there that does not now recall The sorrow of the funeral knell and pall ? Who is there here on earth who would not give His own sweet life, one dear to him might live ? Who is there who has not felt the sting and tear Of bitter anguish losing friends most dear? And yet 'mongst God's angel-forms and fairies, I'll find, I know, some day, loved Clara's ! THE SKATE. December's sun had risen bright and clear j Red cheeks and blue noses told winter was severe. But boys were happy, for the chill of night Brought to them visions of rare delight ! The creek was frozen o'er, its glistening ice Was to their minds a part of paradise ; And morning's task at home complete, Each buckled on his skates for winter's treat. Alas ! the glittering surface of the ice Did many a truant boy from school entice. AND OTHER POEMS. 23 The swiftest was a "deer," and soon the race, For forty lusty throats quick gave him chase ! The school bell rang, although its notes were clear, What cared we for it, while playing deer ? Away we went, each steady stroke But hours of distance on us broke ; And as the race more intense grew It seemed to each he fairly flew ! When, at last, we caught the long-chased deer, The air was rent with deafening cheer ! It was then boys circles cut, and eagles spread While some cut letters that were plainly read ! On ice we ran to see who could farthest jump Saw stars, in daylight, as our heads would thump ! Yes, mingled we in sports, then, o'er and o'er, Just as boys mingled in the days of yore. Then schoolward turned, each skater gay, Little did he list, the weal that he must pay. The homeward journey one always tires And passes little that he first admires; 'Tis true of life, we pass ambition's goal, Then pray to rest the weary mind and soul. 24 BIRCH-ROD DAYS Ah, noble youth, thy freaks are oft despised, When better judgment would them have prized ! Think you, my friend, that boyish vim Augurs not but usefulness to follow him ? Exultant youth, both bright and gay, Will ever live to bear life's prize away ? Reached we at last the school-house door, our faces bright, Forgetful of the hour, in our delight His angry looks, his sullen tones, Were worse than next day's aching bones His switches? I remember and Jive to tell How well he used them Aye, used them well ! THE HUTSON MASSACRE. In eighteen hundred and ten, a pioneer, Named Hutson, left for the wilderness, then here. His wife was with him, and six dear boys and girls ; One, a maiden of sixteen, had soft brown curls, And bright blue eyes, with cheeks so fair, They would with lilies well compare! The daughter was the idol of her father's heart AND OTHER POEMS, 25 And when the time had come they must depart For the unknown, and then far distant west, She was with all his plans imprest. Hardships were endured, and privations by the way But laughed at, in hopes of a better day. Then came they to a land in Nature's dress A plain and valley teeming in fruitfulness : Earth had not then, nor now, a lovelier spot, Than the grand old prairie of Lamotte! It was here Hutson built a homely dwelling-. A rude log cabin his stout heart welling With joy o'er the happiness it gave to him, To be thus safely housed in a cabin trim. Time went smoothly on until the season's close, When their harvest warned them of the savage foes ! Plundering, murdering, committing ravages, Around that cabin home were lurking savages, Who for the pale face had the most intense hate Yet none was more cruel than the Hutsons' fate : One evening, as the sun sank in the west, A mother sat watching, with babe at breast, The return of father who had gone to mill 26 BIRCH-ROD DAYS Miles of distance, across the plain and hill. Would that lovely sunset, as it westward fell, Could but their fate to them foretell ! Calmly she waits when yells of Indian devils Break now upon her death in carnage revels ! Her babe was into a boiling caldron thrown ; Mother and children tomahawked, save one lone Sweet girl ; who was their captive led To live a life of shame and dread ! Then to that cabin was placed a torch of tire, The lifeless hurled thereon ! While with demon's ire They watched the rolling flames and curling smoke, Till sighing embers, and faint glare, the end bespoke ! Hutson came home ! Though strong of frame Intensely haggard his face became ! "My wife! my children!" Then 'mid the agony of woe, The teardrops from their fountain ceased to flow ! The carnage was complete. Aye, well he knew The brutal nature of the scene in view ! Hutson, from all once near and dear, then turned. And while on horse, as heart within him burned, AND OTHER POEMS. *t Vowed eternal vengeance, o'er and o'er, Against the Indians evermore. Well did he keep that vow! Week after week, He with his trusty rifle did vengeance seek ; Until, at last, he too was known to fall At the head of troop, pierced by the Indian's ball ! And the old creek, where we boys used to skate, Was named Hutson, o'er his untimely fate; And on the Wabash banks, 'bove and 'neath the hill, Sits to his memory, the village Hutson ville. 'Tis said that we grow old ! That time's decay Will change our feelings day by day ; That man will change the purpose of his youth, And feel that all is fading even truth; That what is good lived only in the past The world's degenerating fast and fast. The lawyer lays aside his book, grown old, Which once such precious truths had told, And folds the door upon the musty shelf, And feels despondent with the world and self Then moralizes o'er his time and fate, 28 BIRCH-ROD DATS And blames the world, not his declining state; But youth, exultant, with eager look, Will gather up the shelf-worn book ; He will its pages anew read o'er, And glean fresh treasures from its store. He will, for the future each day plan And feel the world depends on coming man ; New cities shall grow up, the future great, Will rival all the past in Church and State ! 'Tis ever thus; the old shall weary be, While youth is buoyant, lithe and free ; And feels the world, with all its broad expanse Is made for him, his pleasures to enhance; And grapples with it, new treasures sure to find, That ever yield to his inquiring mind. One age declines, another takes its place, And progress ever marks our noble race. Aye, man ! no matter what thy sphere, Thy memory loves to wander back to things once dear; And dear to thee, which after years will trace, Are all the scenes of boyhood's time and place. AND OTHER POEMS. 29 Call back in memory, ye gray-haired sires, Call back to memory your youthful fires; Call back the laws you once transgressed, Call back the times you were repressed ; Go back unto the turning point of life, The sweet repressions of the future wife ; She, who was sweetheart of your youthful days, Reproving kindly wayward ways. THE SPELLING SCHOOL. How cheery was the old-time spelling school Given by the teacher in days of birch-rod rule. Do you not still remember with what delight We hailed the coming of that night ? The mud of winter, or the drizzling rain, Caused us no anxiety or pain ; For we would bundle well and go Be it through storm or winter's snow; Do you not still remember the rosy cheeks Which youth and health alone bespeaks? His glasses were adjusted, with stick in hand, He was determined all erect should stand ; 30 BIRCH-ROD DAYS Long lines were drawn up, like armies well arrayed For field of action, not for dress parade; And warm the contest, for there were those Who faced each other like deadly foes! And there were some who knew every word In Webster's speller for I have heard It said, 'twas only by some grave mistake That either side could honors take. 'Tis no fancied vision ! Ah, I remember well The merry times of the old-fashioned spell! The night though dark, the sidewalk then unknown, But other pleasures would these all atone ; For as we wandered home, her words so sweet, I would not dare in after life repeat ! But you remember, though now you're silvered gray, The words as well as 'twere but yesterday. And you might tell, though this perhaps you'd hate The kiss was stolen just at her father's gate ! These feats of skill by all were well enjoyed, Think you not still, 'twas time quite well employed ? O, boyhood's happy days ! We dream them o'er, Forgetful now the ills we had in store. AND OTHER POEMS. 31 As we go back unto our first_old home, To find none dearer 'neath earth's dome. We see again with enrapt delight The teachers in their power and might ; And learn obedience from their law That ever guides our after life in awe. Ah, yet those lessons first impressed in youth Are fall of thought if not prosaic truth. We find the boy a man, and watch his course, And hail delightedly his manhood's force ; Then trace his truant youth, his wayward ways, To find the man was made in birch-rod days. THE DEBATE. Can you call back the anguish of your look When first you part in the discussion took ? His august presence, as he sat in state, And eager watched your first debate ! Aye, Cushing's Manual, altho' 'twas new, Produced not consternation then to you ; But stammering, speechless, with your heart in. throat 33 BIRCH-ROD DAYS Forgetful the points you were quick to note ; The floor was sinking it would soon give 'way You could not then on feet one thought convey. Your effort was a failure but his word Was not reproof, and when from him you heard : "The Halls of Congress would some day resound With words from the speaker, intense, profound!" You felt at once this life to you renewed, As with new ideas you were imbued. Confidence in yourself when once you've gained Ever through life will be by you maintained. And from that moment in forensic art You eager were to take some active part ; Skilled in parliamentary law, you tried With due deliberation to preside. Your efforts then, if with success were crowned, Speak but the man, in after life renowned. Dear Hutson, my heart turns back to thee As scenes of boyhood days come back to me Back to the river's bank I trace My steps, with line, to the old fishing place. AND OTHER POEMS. 33 We angle with the world in after years, Trembling and cautious we battle it with fears, While in our youth we cast a baited hook With joyous glee into the babbling brook, Watching contentedly until the bite To land the bass and croppie with delight ; But busy man will scarce find time to know, Or wander back to scenes of long ago, Until old age creeps 'long with silent stealth When first he realizes that in life his wealth Is but contentment! Contented will I be When the hour shall come, old Time is done with me When the clouds grow dark, and the eye grows dim, And the Master's summon is to answer Him, If they'll take me back to thee, old place so dear, To rest 'side Him who gave my spirit here. O, fleeting years ! an unperceived decay Beckons us ever onward day by day. He will live best who lives the present seeing; A wiser man, a happier being. 31 BIRCH-ROD DAYS Expectant future is to us unknown; Lives happy he who calls each day his own. Tho' living present, we must ne'er forget Our days of yore, dear unto memory yet. THE EXHIBITION. All is expectancy! The nervous strain Is not much lessened by the six months' train. Aye, from the boy of six, for one his age "You'd scarce expect upon the stage." Unto the lad much older grown, Who realizes that the world's his own, And thinks before few years have passed him by To realize his expectations high. Who thunders forth his eloquence in tones Well calculated to melt the frigid zones; Bidding defiance to all laws of speech Save those the birch-rod master doth him teach. O glorious youth, expectant hope ! Well calculated with the art of speech to cope. AND OTHER POEMS. 35 The timid maiden with her voice so low, How sweet her speech, "The Beauteous Snow." And plays! Why, I remember to have seen Them where they crowned the fairest maiden queen. These recitations of our youthful days I find more winning than the modern plays. 'Twas good McDonald, he that played the part Of teacher in the terpsichorean art, That furnished music with his band of ten; Sweet players were they, all now cherished men. Aye, well they swayed the audience with delight We recollect the music of that night. Up rolls the curtain j bashfully steps forth An humble youth j time tells his after worth And ever as the bell doth tap anew Another comes greets well the audience too. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck '' while Mary Told well her story of the Lambkin fairie j While greater actors raised fine fierce disputes And seemingly about "Bombastes' boots!'' 36 BIRCH-ROD DAYS The " Hardshell Sermon " and " Survive or Perish!" " Webster's Reply to Hayne" I now cherish. Ah, think you o'er in after life the part You played that night in fine forensic art! And wonder you that time will not efface The memory of the birch-rod master's grace. Then step we to that other grander stage, The after years riper, maturer age. Look where we will, in life scan o'er and o'er, You see the actors of the days of yore. The lad who won, "The night we'd the spelling," Is sure to win in life. Where ? No telling ! And he who tries, is eager to debate, Kules certain after in affairs of state. Life's exhibition and the school's the samej The after years but tell of birch-rod fame. Then turn we aside, one pitying glance Tells that the after life is no romance But real. Well is he who struggling tries On earliest resources most relies. The envious world, vast and battling throng, AND OTHER POEMS. 37 Gives always way to him both well and strong. The world is ever full, but learn to know And dare its heights, look upward as you go. The steeps of Fame though proudly you ascend, It is through Toil that Fame her crown will lend. Dare you the mysteries of skillful art, Expect with work to take an active part Dare you gain success of any kind, be brave Success demands mankind almost a slave. No matter where, what part we take in life, We may expect a constant struggling strife j And only he who's best prepared, and strong, Will mingle in life well, and mingle long. Should fortune favor, frown not on the poor ; Go back, remember birch-rod days of yore. In giddy forum should you meet success, Remember strong the weak will oft oppress; If born to rule, deal lightly with the mass ; Help, help the brother of the humble class. These lessons all in former days were taught; And must they perish go for naught? Would he permit the strong oppress the weak, 38 BIRCH-ROD DAYS The high and mighty to deride the meek? Were not his switches ofttimes used to pay The tyrant youth who would oppress at play? Heed then the lessons of thy youthful age, In thy life's play upon the after stage j And learn to know, no matter what thy ways, Life's grandest lessons were in birch-rod days. AND OTHER POEMS. LITTLE LIGHTS. In the sky little lights we frequently see, Descending toward earth with a twinklesome glee ; Resplendent their course as through space they go dashing, Soon to be out 'tis the meteor's flashing. They remind of the lives of little ones given To us here on earth, from the kingdom of heaven; They bud and they blossom awhile 'round our home, Till the Heavenly Father bids them unto Him come. The pangs of the parting will be ever the same; And each sorrowing tear will burn as a flame, To brighten the pathway of the little lives given, In their journey from earth to the kingdom of heaven. 40 BIRCH-ROD DAYS THE HAKVEST OF DEATH. Ah ! harvest is ripe, and Death is around, Securing his victims no matter where found , And no greedier gatherer ever was known Of the seeds of destruction, his agents have sown. Not choice in his victims, not caring at all, He sweeps down the line and gathers them all. The young and the old, the rich and the poor, Death gathers alike and brings to his door. He touches all fall ; They come at his call ; And he is but waiting to gather them all. The sick and the weary, distressed and forlorn ; The gay and the merry, the proud'st e'er born ; The haughty and great, all lying in state, He conquered by the same inevitable fate. Nor wants he their lands, cares less for their gold: Death is no miser, tho' grasping his hold ; And his eye seem'd to twinkle while he cast with a laugh AND OTHER POEMS. 41 Their worldly possessions, like wind does the chaff. He touches they fall ; All come at his call ; And he is but waiting to gather them all. Men striving and toiling from the time of their birth, Depriving themselves of the luxuries of earth ; While neighbors, more lavish, build castles and revel On the sins of this world, not unlike the devil. Still others, ambitious for fame and renown, Work body and mind till well broken down. With hard striving statesman for temporal power, Death touches each one ere the realizing hour. He touches they fall; All come at his call ; And he is but waiting to gather them all. And I sigh'd as I thought how Death gathers them in ; 'Tis the penalty paid for man's primitive sin. Then be cheerful and happy, altho' you be nigh, Cross bravely Death's river when the time comes to die ; 42 BIRCH-ROD DAY For do not the merry, light-hearted and gay, Make more out of life as they pass on their way ? Then do not have fear of an impending fate Postpone never happiness until 'tis too late. For all come at his call; When Death touches, we fall. And he is but waiting to gather us all. AND OTHER POEMS. 43 THE FELON'S SOLILOQUY. Yes, I have killed him ! And in bending low, Rifling pockets, I saw his life's blood flow Then stood aghast ! For who can tell the sorrow Even a life-long criminal will borrow At sight of deed so cruel. Woe is me ! Outcast ! Outlaw ! Where'er on earth to flee ! Quick! Let me go! The very stillness of night Makes doubly dread even a felon's flight ! And blood-leeches will soon be on my track, Hounding, pursuing, soon to drag me back. Where shall I fly ? Is there no safety left To one of law's protection now bereft ? Flee where I may, the lightning tracks my path And justice scents my trail with pent-up wrath. Hark! Ere the gray of morning's dawn, I fear The sleuth-hounds will have trailed me and be near. Surrender ! Never ! I will fast retreat Back to the lonely swampe for life is sweet. "Throw up!" List! See! Now they surround me fast. I yield for in these times escape is past. For even one, who hath law offended oft 44 BIRCH-ROD DAYS Of God and man, and at man's nature scoffed ! But tracked and trailed, like a wild beast of prey, I, felon, bend before the law's dread sway! Oh, fate, thrice wretched ! Henceforth in this cell Kemorse is mine, so bitter none can tell! Behind the prison wall, a sin-cursed Cain, Fettered in irons, bound in prison chain ! Aye, never more to breathe a breath that's free In sorrow waiting for the gallows tree ! Ah ! We have felt the silent tear of time Steal down the careworn, hardened face of crime. Ah, crime! Foul crime! Thou hast indeed to grief Brought all thy followers, and thy course is brief ! Methinks at times, thy seed is bred in man, And curse the fate that brought us in thy van To dire destruction ! yet, we oft neglect Best feelings of our conscience, and reflect Not until the deed is done. Ill-fated born, Flee from the path of sin, ere you, forlorn, Fill some prison cell, or a felon's grave! Fear laws of God and man and thyself save Respect, as well as fear, for they alone Bring peace on earth and happiness our own. AND OTHER POEMS. 4P WHEN FORTUNE FROWNS. The world's a cold sympathizer, when once