Simple Southern Songs 
 
 

 
 
 f / 
 
 ? , , # 
 
^*~ 
 
BY 
 
 IDA CAROLINE HARRELL HORNE 
 
 EDITED BY HER SON 
 HERMAN HARRELL HORNE 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED 
 1916 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE ... 9 
 
 II DAYS AND SEASONS . . . .35 
 
 III NARRATIVE AND OCCASIONAL . 65 
 
 IV HOME ....... 95 
 
 V MORAL AND RELIGIOUS . . .125 
 
 VI IN MEMORIAM 155 
 
 VII MISCELLANEOUS . . . .183 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The psychologist Hoffding says: "The 
 poetic form may cast a light on reality 
 which it does not naturally or always pos 
 sess, and the dominant feeling of the poet 
 discovers an order of the universe in which 
 his ideals find their satisfaction." 
 
 In the accompanying poems this poetic 
 light is cast on the great universal experi 
 ences of life, such as friendship, love, nature, 
 home, morality, religion and death. Inter 
 preted through poetic sympathy and imag 
 inative expression, these common experi 
 ences come to have for us uncommon mean 
 ings. 
 
 Poetry is the emotional interpretation of 
 life. It stands in greatest contrast to the 
 objective analysis of life provided by sci 
 ence, but is closely akin to both philosophy 
 and religion. Philosophy is, or ought to be, 
 the intellectual interpretation of life, and 
 religion is our sense of values as divine. 
 The content of poetry is a kind of philoso 
 phy and the spirit of poetry is a kind of 
 religion. The poet feels keenly the situa 
 tions of life and expresses his feeling in 
 fitting form of rhythm and rhyme. 
 
The reading of poetry refines feeling and 
 so assists in the sympathetic interpretation 
 of life. We come to see somewhat with the 
 poet s eye and hear with his ear. Thereby 
 we both enjoy and suffer more. The in 
 fluence of poetry is especially needed in a 
 materialistic or rationalistic age. 
 
 Wagner said, "All art is autobiography." 
 In the deep sense that we see and express 
 what we ourselves already are, this is true. 
 Yet a poet can sympathetically speak for 
 another in a w r ay that is not strictly auto 
 biographical, as, for instance, in the poem: 
 "No Wine for Me," p. 129. The reader of 
 these poems does not need to be told that 
 they were written by a true heart in the 
 midst of life s duties and beauties. He will 
 feel their sincerity, simplicity, genuineness 
 and unaffectedness. They are the writer s 
 own life in rhyme. Thus this little collec 
 tion may come to each recipient as a per 
 sonal message and greeting. 
 
 The content of these poems is individual 
 rather than social, factual rather than 
 problematic, and optimistic rather than 
 despairing. Here is art for life s sake, 
 not for pure form s sake. The course 
 of Nature is what it seems to be, and yields 
 us moral and religious truths, but the hard 
 experiences of human life are not final, be- 
 6 
 
ing signs rather of a better future state. 
 Thus faith supplements knowledge as re 
 gards man. The blighting effects of real 
 religious doubt do not appear here. 
 
 Upon any objective criticism of the poetic 
 merit of these compositions I am estopped 
 from entering, both by incapacity and dis 
 inclination. Others are welcome to make it, 
 if they will; to me they lie too close. The 
 collection is made primarily from the per 
 sonal standpoint, though students of our 
 Southern literature and those who await the 
 coming Renaissance of Southern letters will 
 no doubt be glad of this modest volume of 
 sincere verse. 
 
 The authoress has lived all her life in 
 North Carolina, most of the time at Clayton, 
 where these poems, and many more from 
 which these were selected, were written. 
 Their composition occurred mainly in the 
 third decade of life. They were usually 
 printed under the nom-de-plume of "Carine," 
 and were first published in various State 
 papers, as The North Carolina Teacher, The 
 Clayton Bud, The Clayton News, The Greens 
 boro Patriot, The Twin-City Daily, The Win 
 ston Sentinel, The Biblical Recorder, The 
 Methodist Advance, The Greensboro Times, 
 The Caucasian, The Goldsboro Sheaf, and The 
 Winston Courier. 
 
 7 
 
The following poems appear here for the 
 first time: "Our Martyred Chief," "The 
 Exile of St. Helena," "Osseo," "Blue Ridge, 
 and "To Father and Mother." 
 
 Written in love, often in the midst of busy 
 cares at the suggestion or request of some 
 friends, they are now sent forth in love, 
 with the hope that they may brighten the 
 day for the one who reads. 
 
 H. H. H. 
 
 September 18, 1915. 
 
FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE 
 
OTljtlr tEtjou &rt (Erur 
 
 The world may look in coldness now, 
 
 Or turn in scorn away. 
 Yet while I see thy cheering smile, 
 
 My heart is always gay, 
 For what to me are brightest hours, 
 
 Unless I see thee near? 
 1 want no sweeter happiness, 
 
 While thou dost hold me dear. 
 
 If I can have thee by my side, 
 
 And know thy heart is true, 
 The cold and selfish ones may fr^wr, 
 
 My heart finds rest with you. 
 1 cannot fret, I cannot pine, 
 
 While thou art all my own, 
 For all the joy the world could give. 
 
 I find in thee alone. 
 
 Be true to me, dear one, be true, 
 
 As long as life shall last; 
 Thy love can light the darkest way, 
 
 And fairest radiance cast. 
 One dear and tender thought from thee, 
 
 Is worth all earthly praise, 
 And while I have thy faithful heart, 
 
 My path is bright always. 
 
 May 9th, 1883. 
 
 1 1 
 
t\)t iliiir0 Wttt in HBloom 
 
 "When the lilies blossom white," 
 
 And the sweet spring days were bright, 
 
 With the roses fairest bloom; 
 Then the angels whispered low, 
 That our darling one must go 
 
 Now we weep o er her silent tomb. 
 
 Bring the lilies sweet and rare, 
 To surround her brow more fair, 
 
 Than the whitest of them all. 
 For her life was pure and sweet, 
 And the lily-bells are meet; 
 
 Lp.y them gently now o er the pall. 
 
 Could those blue eyes open now, 
 Could our little darling know, 
 
 How our broken spirits mourn 
 But we would not have her know, 
 We must bear this bitter \voe, 
 
 Nor once wish for her return. 
 
 Far beyond the cloudless sky, 
 Where is never breathed a sigh, 
 
 And the cold frosts never fall; 
 Where the lilies bloom for aye, 
 There our darling s foot-steps stray, 
 
 She, our lily, the fairest of all. 
 
 When the lilies bloom again, 
 I shall feel each throb of pain, 
 
 Which so wrung my heart that day; 
 When I saw her whit e and cold, 
 While the broken lilies told, 
 
 Of that dear, sweet life past away, 
 
 July 10th, 1884. 
 
 12 
 
looting 
 
 When you and I, with feeble step, 
 
 And deeply furrowed brow, 
 Shall walk a-down life s rugged slope, 
 
 Our hearts will beat as now. 
 
 Time cannot blight affection s rose 
 
 Or chill the heart s warm tide; 
 The love which crowned our youth s bright 
 day, 
 
 Forever will abide. 
 
 Tis many a year, dear one, since we 
 
 First plighted love s fond vow; 
 Sweet summers past, with bud and bloom, 
 
 And winter s drifting snow. 
 
 Yet still the heart s deep pulse will thrill, 
 
 With joy, at one sweet name; 
 Tho forms and faces change, the heart 
 
 Is ever more the same. 
 
 And dearest, tis thy faithful heart, 
 
 Which I have loved so well; 
 And mine is bound to thine, with love s 
 
 Pure and immortal spell. 
 
 November 10th, 1884. 
 
31n ail tbr 
 
 In all the world there is no face 
 
 So dear to me as thine; 
 No heart so full of happiness, 
 
 As this fond heart of mine. 
 
 In all the world, there are no eyes, 
 
 So beautiful to me; 
 As thine dear one, so dark and deep, 
 
 And full of mystery. 
 
 In all the world, no cheek so soft 
 As thine, where roses blend 
 
 With blushes sweet and brilliant glows, 
 And every charm doth lend. 
 
 In all the world no pure white brow, 
 So fair and smooth as thine; 
 
 Nor raven tresses half so bright, 
 Tho gems amidst them shine. 
 
 In all the world no form could be 
 
 So full of queenly grace; 
 Oh, all the charms of every land, 
 
 I find in thy sweet face. 
 
 In all the world there could be none, 
 That could compare to thee! 
 
 Thou art my spirit s hope and joy, 
 The one bright star for me. 
 
 December 12th, 1884. 
 
gou CBtorr ^infe of 
 
 When your heart is straying backward, 
 
 By the shore of Memory; 
 And you sigh o er fair hours faded 
 
 Do you ever think of me? 
 
 When dear friends speak words of gladness, 
 And their voices charm thine car 
 
 Do you listen for the echoes, 
 Of a voice you may not hear? 
 
 When life pours its richest treasures, 
 
 With a lavish hand, for thee 
 Do you think of one life, fated 
 
 For a sadder destiny? 
 
 Or when Grief with brooding pinion, 
 Hovers o er the gate of light 
 
 Do you think of one who loves thee, 
 Even in the deepest night? 
 
 Is there e er a note of sadness, 
 
 Which you hear with tear-dimmed eyes 
 In the soft and subtle music 
 
 Of life s mystic harmonies? 
 
 O I ask for you heaven s blessings, 
 
 Now and ever, full and free, 
 And my cup will have its sweetness, 
 
 If you sometimes think of me. 
 
 March 20th, 1885. 
 
a 
 
 May your heart be free from sorrow, 
 Every hour some pleasure bring; 
 
 May a kind fate, smiling ever, 
 O er your life no shadow fling. 
 
 May fair flowers surround your pathway, 
 Blooming sweetly to the close; 
 
 Sunny skies and balmy weather, 
 Tint life s day with brightest rose. 
 
 May hope s every shining vision 
 
 Prove realities, for you; 
 And w r arm hearts give you affection, 
 
 Faithful, pure, and ever true. 
 
 May 8th, 1885. 
 
 [6 
 
j^ebermore 
 
 Thou art with me, loved and lost one, 
 Through the long and dreary hours, 
 
 And a vision ever cheers me 
 
 Bright as summer s fairest flowers. 
 
 Eyes that beamed with joy and gladness 
 
 On me in the days of yore, 
 Shining through the falling darkness, 
 
 Thrill me sweetly as before. 
 
 In fond dreams her spirit whispers, 
 
 Of a precious, by-gone day, 
 But I \vake to weep in sorrow, 
 
 For a bright and vanished ray. 
 
 In the soft hour of the gloaming, 
 When the shades so lightly fall 
 
 In my grief I sit and listen, 
 As the bells of mem ry call. 
 
 And a voice than music sweeter, 
 
 With its thrilling melody, 
 Breathing of dear hopes now shattered, 
 
 Speaks again fond words to me. 
 
 But I miss the clinging fingers 
 
 Of a hand within mine own; 
 When I reach to clasp her closely, 
 
 Ah, I am alone, alone! 
 
 September 27th, 1885. 
 
Good-night, darling; may bright angels 
 
 guard thee, 
 Through the dreamy hours that bring thee 
 
 rest; 
 May their soft white wings so close enfold 
 
 thee 
 
 That no troubled thought can reach thy 
 breast. 
 
 May no sharp thorn rob thy downy pillow, 
 Of the sweet repose thy head shall find; 
 
 May thy warm bright cheek be fanned by 
 
 zephyrs, 
 Soft as voices of the southern wind. 
 
 May the gentle spirits who watch o er thee, 
 
 Keeping thee in sweet security- 
 Bending low, in tender whispers murmur 
 To thy dreaming heart one thought of me. 
 
 October 26th, 1885. 
 
 1 8 
 
Spirit Linger* j^rar 
 
 No more upon the earth her form will greet 
 
 me 
 No more her lovely eyes will look in 
 
 mine; 
 
 But round me breathes her sweet and gen 
 tle spirit, 
 And in my heart her face will ever shine. 
 
 1 seem to hear her speak my name in ac 
 cents 
 
 Of tender love, as in the days gone by, 
 And when I sit and dream of her for hours, 
 I know her form comes flitting from the 
 sky. 
 
 1 cannot see it with my mortal vision, 
 
 But in my soul, I kno\v she comes to me 
 
 On wings of love, and in that holy presence 
 No thoughts can live save those of purity. 
 
 And when in times of trial and temptation, 
 It seems the evil angel will subdue 
 
 1 breathe her name, and round me steals an 
 
 influence, 
 Which leads me ever to the good and true. 
 
 December 30th, 1885. 
 
 10 
 
H5r0t for 
 
 Tis best for you, my darling, 
 That we should part this way; 
 
 But ah, for me the yearning pain 
 Of many a weary day. 
 
 Tis best for you, oh loved one, 
 
 For you are happy now, 
 And I should smile to think no shade 
 
 Doth rest upon that brow. 
 
 For if I could have kept you 
 
 Forever at my side, 
 You must have felt the woes and griefs, 
 
 Which warmest hearts betide. 
 
 But now 1 know your spirit 
 
 Is free as birds of spring; 
 And I will try to teach my own 
 
 To bear its suffering. 
 
 To bear without complaining, 
 The loss which gives you joy; 
 
 But dreams of vanished hours will come, 
 My sad thoughts to employ. 
 
 I miss thee, oh I miss thee! 
 
 And must forever more 
 Regret the joys which once were mine, 
 
 And nothing can restore! 
 
 January 23rd, 1886. 
 
ClnOrr ttjr 
 
 Softly the snowflakes are falling around me, 
 Silently covering valley and hill; 
 
 Tenderly kissing the mound which is hiding 
 One who is sleeping so peacefully still. 
 
 Under the snow never dreaming of sorrow; 
 Pain cannot reach her beneath the white 
 
 drifts. 
 
 Thoughts of her happiness lighten my sad 
 ness, 
 
 Piercing the clouds with their beautiful 
 rifts. 
 
 But I remember with many a heartache, 
 Every dear charm of that sweet lovely 
 
 face; 
 Under the snow rests the form that hath 
 
 thrilled me 
 
 With its proud bearing, and soft-winning 
 grace. 
 
 Under the snow lie the hopes that were 
 
 dearest; 
 
 But we must finish the journey below, 
 Though every joy we have cherished is be 
 hind, 
 Under the drifts of the beautiful snow. 
 
 February 9th, 1886. 
 
 21 
 
I look a-down the vista 
 
 Of years that live no more, 
 
 And see thy smile as pure and bright, 
 And tender as of yore. 
 
 I hear thy kind words falling 
 
 In music on mine ear, 
 And dream those happy days return, 
 
 When thou wast ever near. 
 
 With pleasure 1 remember, 
 Each hour I spent with thee; 
 
 For you were ever fond and true, 
 And faithful unto me. 
 
 No bitter word was spoken, 
 To wound my loving heart; 
 
 And never one cold glance from thee, 
 To cause a cruel smart. 
 
 To me you were the dearest, 
 And sweetest friend of all; 
 
 And oh, believe me still the same, 
 Though joy or grief befall. 
 
 However dark the hour, 
 
 Or bright with golden sheen 
 
 No power can divide our hearts 
 Or shadow steal between. 
 
 Tis true that we are parted, 
 Yet still our souls are one; 
 
 E en though I see thy face no more, 
 Nor hear thy gentle tone. 
 
Beyond the orient, shining, 
 
 I see a golden star, 
 And lift my eyes above the gloom, 
 
 To greet its rays afar. 
 
 And if the hour should linger, 
 And hope s fruition fail 
 
 That star will ever brightly gleam 
 Though other splendors pale. 
 
 And while I know you love me, 
 Though land and sea divide 
 
 I would not give the joy I hold, 
 For all the world beside. 
 
 May 1st, 1886. 
 
 23 
 
H5ontf apart 
 
 On the billows of life s ocean, 
 We are drifting day by day; 
 
 With a sure and constant motion, 
 Toward the harbor far away. 
 
 Once our barques sailed on together, 
 Side by side o er sun-kissed wave; 
 
 It was fair and summer weather, 
 And the skies sweet promise gave. 
 
 But the winds of fate o ertook us, 
 In the morning of life s day; 
 
 And Hope s silver star forsook us, 
 On the dark and stormy way. 
 
 And the rude waves rose, dividing 
 Two frail barques, almost awreck. 
 
 And the tempest s breath outriding, 
 Each appears a tiny speck. 
 
 Ah, the tranquil days are over, 
 When we drifted side by side; 
 
 And in sorrow we discover 
 Rough and angry seas divide. 
 
 But afar, we see the gleaming, 
 Of a fair and beauteous land; 
 
 There where Day is ever beaming, 
 We shall wander hand in hand. 
 
 June 17, 1886. 
 
 24 
 
of ilong 
 
 There s ever a sigh in the soft autumn wind, 
 That touches the heart with its sadness; 
 
 Yet still there awakens a thrill that is sweet, 
 Though mingled with grief and with glad 
 ness. 
 
 The voice of the wind seems to say o er and 
 
 o er: 
 
 "Farewell to the pleasant day flying; 
 The bright, bonnie season of summer is 
 
 gone, 
 And all the fair flowers are dying." 
 
 But all the drear seasons that linger be 
 tween 
 
 Can never shut out the loved faces 
 Of dear ones that gladdened life s beautiful 
 
 spring; 
 They shine in the old hallowed places. 
 
 And all the bright hours may die in their 
 
 bloom, 
 
 And leave life a desert of sorrow- 
 Vet fond hearts will live o er the joys of the 
 
 past, 
 And hope for a sunny to-morrow. 
 
 "Farewell," on the air in the light in the 
 heart, 
 
 And we think of the loved and the lost; 
 Rut still in the spirit a memory lives, 
 
 Unblighted by time s chilling frosl. 
 
 September 25th, 1886. 
 
31 
 
 I would not live again the vanished hours 
 Which once across my path such radiance 
 threw; 
 
 I would not, if I could, recall the season 
 Which glided by so pleasantly with you. 
 
 ] would not hear again the vows of friend 
 ship, 
 Which once you breathed into my willing 
 
 ear; 
 
 Or see the fervent glance of sweet affection, 
 From eyes that spoke to mine a language 
 dear. 
 
 No; for I see thee now with clearer vision. 
 And know thy heart was never pure and 
 
 true; 
 
 Else had I ne er withdrawn the trust con 
 fiding, 
 
 Which once I gave, so full and free, to 
 you. 
 
 I would not even hold, within my spirit, 
 The dream, so beautiful in days of yore; 
 
 Lest rudely waking, once more I should 
 
 find thee, 
 As fickle and as faithless as before. 
 
 Another lesson added to the many 
 
 Life holds for us, before we learn our 
 
 way: 
 The frankest face may hide a heart the 
 
 foulest, 
 
 And friends who truest seem, may first 
 betray. 
 
 December llth, 1886. 
 
 26 
 
31t ait Come* Bacb 
 
 It all comes back to me tonight, 
 
 The golden glory of the past; 
 Days gilded with a tender light, 
 
 Too beautiful to last. 
 
 Thy form in all its witching grace, 
 
 Glides softly through the rosy dream; 
 
 And every feature of thy face 
 Is clear as daylight s beam. 
 
 The fire upon the hearth burns low, 
 And I with fixed and earnest gaze, 
 
 See in the bright red coals that glow, 
 The scenes of other days. 
 
 The music of a voice long flown, 
 Melts on the stillness of the hour; 
 
 The words you spoke in gentle tone, 
 Thrill me with magic power. 
 
 Dream on fond heart hold close the spell 
 Which stirs thy pulses with delight; 
 
 Forget the long and sad farewell, 
 Which left thy path in night. 
 
 December 31st, 1886. 
 
Come 
 
 Come in the beautiful summer, 
 
 When blossoms are bright on the tree, 
 And soft is the sigh of the zephyr 
 
 Ah, glad will 1 welcome thee. 
 
 Come in the gloomiest season, 
 When dim is the light of the sky, 
 
 And blighted the fields and the flowers 
 I ll welcome thee joyously. 
 
 At morn s rosy beam or at noonday, 
 Or with the sweet stars of the even, 
 
 You come; it will gladden my spirit, 
 As beautiful dreams of heaven. 
 
 May 9th, 1887. 
 
be 
 
 I try to live in future hours, 
 
 Forgetting these that be; 
 So wearily the days drag by, 
 
 While I am far from thee. 
 
 I try to think a sunny day 
 
 Will surely dawn for me, 
 When I, in perfect joy, shall rest 
 
 My happy eyes on thee. 
 
 I try to keep a brave, strong heart 
 Through these sweet days of June, 
 
 For something seems to whisper low, 
 "Cheer up, it may be soon." 
 
 June 9th, 1887. 
 
CoUJ? 
 
 Why cold to me? My warm, true heart 
 Throbs with its every pulse for thee; 
 
 And yet it seems a waste of love, 
 For thou art cold to me. 
 
 Why changed? Canst thou forget so soon 
 The vows you spoke with earnest breath? 
 
 You said your heart and soul were mine, 
 Till life should end in death. 
 
 But now thy cold and altered glance, 
 Falls on my heart with heavy pain; 
 
 O let me see one look of love 
 In thy sweet eyes again. 
 
SDO 31 Care? 
 
 What do I care, that his false heart beats 
 
 No more for me; 
 And not one sigh will I breathe for his 
 
 Inconstancy. 
 
 \Yhat do I care, that his changing smile 
 
 Doth wander oft; 
 Are there not other smiles as bright, 
 
 And words as soft? 
 
 What do I care, that his accents fond, 
 
 I hear no more; 
 They could not hold my heart in thrall, 
 
 As once before. 
 
 What do I care, that the magic spell 
 
 Is broken now; 
 Or that his fickle heart forgets 
 
 Each fervent vow. 
 
 For since the mask has fallen off 
 
 From his false face 
 I look on him and strive in vain 
 
 Some charm to trace. 
 
 The dream is past, and with no sigh 
 
 I see it go; 
 Nor feel one shadow of regret 
 
 That it is so. 
 
If all the world should sound my praise 
 And think me good and great, 
 
 And thou wert cold all else would fail 
 My spirit to elate. 
 
 And if all other voices blamed 
 While thou alone wert kind 
 
 I d live for one dear word from thee, 
 Nor other voices mind. 
 
 If all the hearts of all the world 
 Would shut me from their love, 
 
 And thou shouldst hold me dear, no pain 
 My happy heart could move. 
 
 Thy heart is the proud throne I d choose 
 Of all earth s kingdoms grand; 
 
 Its love would be far richer wealth, 
 Than gold or diamond strand. 
 
 v 
 
Bells 
 
 Sweet memory bells! sweet memory bells! 
 
 Ring- out your silvery bells to-night; 
 And while your soft, sweet music swells, 
 
 There comes a vision fair and bright. 
 I live again mid happy hours, 
 
 Bright hours, that blest the years agone; 
 Life s joyous spring, with fairest flowers, 
 
 And brilliant dreams, before me shone. 
 
 Sweet memory bells! so soft and low, 
 
 Each note rings out some tender thought; 
 Some joy I never more may know, 
 
 By memory bells, in music brought. 
 Along the track of wasted years, 
 
 These low, sweet tones, bring back 
 
 youth s JO3 S, 
 And in each chime, the heart still hears, 
 
 The melody of some loved voice. 
 
 Dear friends, that seemed a part of life, 
 
 So well beloved in days of old, 
 Have fled amidst the toil and strife, 
 
 And left a sadness all untold. 
 In girlhood s bright and joyous days, 
 
 When life knew not a shade of care, 
 I wandered where the wild birds lays 
 
 Made glad each breath of balmy air. 
 
 One well beloved, walked at my side, 
 A friend I loved with perfect trust; 
 
 We vowed, that whatsoe er betide, 
 
 Our love should last, till hearts were dust. 
 
 33 
 
We rambled in the bright spring weather, 
 Where grew the long ferns in the shade, 
 
 Across the fields of blooming heather, 
 And where the silver streamlet played. 
 
 We watched the golden sunset linger, 
 
 Around the hills at eventide, 
 When from the West, some angel finger, 
 
 Flings out bright rays of glory wide. 
 We dreamed our dreams of life together; 
 
 We talked of love, and light, and fame, 
 And vowed that naught should ever wither, 
 
 Our friendships pure and holy flame. 
 
 Sweet friends, the years have brought their 
 changes; 
 
 I hear no more your songs at eve, 
 But still to you my fancy ranges, 
 
 And for your loss, 1 still would grieve. 
 I can t forget your auburn tresses, 
 
 And soft brown eyes, with tender light, 
 Your songs so sweet; and memory blesses, 
 
 Those happy years, so purely bright. 
 
 Sweet memory bells! sweet memory bells! 
 
 My heart w r aits for each thrilling tone, 
 Each note in sweetest music tells 
 
 Of light and joy, forever flown. 
 And when the evening shades surround me 
 
 And twilight breathes a mystic spell. 
 Those bells bring other scenes around me, 
 
 And weave a charm I cannot tell. 
 
 34 
 
II 
 
 DAYS AND SEASONS 
 
(Etje gear 10 before 
 
 By the memory of failures which have 
 
 blotted 
 
 The record now unfolded to our view, 
 Of days that floated on time s rolling river 
 Let us, with praying hearts, now start 
 anew. 
 
 By the sad regret which stings our troubled 
 
 conscience, 
 To look back o er the snares in which we 
 
 fell 
 We should be now a thousand times more 
 
 careful, 
 
 To try and guard our words and actions 
 well. 
 
 While the year is stretching fair and bright 
 
 before us, 
 
 Let each one ask a special share of grace 
 To conquer in the strife, and at the closing, 
 With peaceful hearts, its victories to 
 trace. 
 
is Coming 
 
 Daisies in the dell 
 
 Lift their starry eyes; 
 Sweetest zephyrs tell, 
 
 With their gentle sighs, 
 Spring is on her way; 
 
 Let the words repeat! 
 All the balmy day, 
 
 Breathes the message sweet. 
 Sing, oh, birdie, sing! 
 
 Let your heart be glad, 
 While your carols ring. 
 
 Can our thoughts be sad? 
 All the woods rejoice, 
 
 Buds begin to swell, 
 Daisies love thy voice, 
 
 In the ferny dell. 
 Streamlet, wake thy sleep, 
 
 From the icy hand, 
 Glide with music deep, 
 
 O er the shining sand; 
 Winter s reign is past, 
 
 Lift your voice in glee, 
 Dancing, rippling fast, 
 
 Singing merrily. 
 Mosses soft and green, 
 
 To the gray rocks cling, 
 Everywhere is seen 
 
 Promises of spring. 
 Winter cannot last 
 
 Longer than its day; 
 Sorrow soon is past, 
 
 Grief will flee away. 
 
 38 
 
All things in their time, 
 
 Is the rule of life. 
 And this little rhyme, 
 
 Falls amid the strife. 
 Weep not o er thy fate, 
 
 Tho it may be dark, 
 It is ne er too late 
 
 For the gleaming spark. 
 As the winter goes, 
 
 And the spring returns, 
 So our earthly woes 
 
 Fall in silent urns. 
 Sorrow cannot last; 
 
 Let the words remain, 
 Winter soon is past, 
 
 Spring will come again. 
 
 February 21st, 1884. 
 
Breatl) of 
 
 Winter s rain is almost over, 
 
 With its cold and piercing blast, 
 
 And the flowers will soon discover 
 They may lift their heads at last. 
 
 Spring with gentle touch is coming, 
 To awaken them from their sleep; 
 
 And the little birds are humming, 
 Softly in the woodland deep. 
 
 Wind and rain and stormy weather, 
 Brought a long and chilling gloom; 
 
 Now all hearts rejoice together, 
 
 For the sweet spring s budding bloom. 
 
 Wintry skies have hid the sunlight, 
 
 With a dull and leaden grey; 
 And the dim sad days seemed one night 
 
 Moon and stars withheld their ray. 
 
 But to-day the sun is beaming, 
 
 W 7 ith a radiant smile for all, 
 And the earth awakes from dreaming, 
 
 Answering to Nature s call. 
 
 Would we prize the light and sweetness, 
 
 If they never pass away? 
 No it is their very fleetness, 
 
 Which enhances while they stay. 
 
 So the Father in his kindness 
 
 Through these things would lessons tell; 
 And we feel e en in our blindness, 
 
 That He governs wise and well. 
 
 March 16th, 1885. 
 
 40 
 
of Hoses 
 
 Nature wears her brightest smile, 
 
 All the day is golden; 
 Down beside the rustic stile, 
 
 Breathes the story olden. 
 
 Thro the cool and- shady lane, 
 Young hearts gladly wander, 
 
 Whispering their love again, 
 And their blisses ponder. 
 
 Happy birds in fragrant bowers, 
 
 Sing love s joy forever, 
 And the many tinted flowers, 
 
 Bid us thank the Giver. 
 
 Roses, yellow, white and red, 
 Scent the air with sweetness, 
 
 While each fair and regal head, 
 Charms us to completeness. 
 
 Which is fairest, sweetest, best, 
 We could ne er determine; 
 
 For we love each waxen crest 
 White, or brilliant carmine. 
 
 June, the empress of the year, 
 Holds her court in splendor; 
 
 And her lovely subjects bear 
 Joy to spirits tender. 
 
 But methinks no heart could feel, 
 
 Careless at this season; 
 O er the soul a spell will steal, 
 
 Touching sense and reason. 
 
And it seems a crime to me, 
 Gainst the heavenly powers, 
 
 Not to prize the wealth we see, 
 In the beauteous flowers. 
 
 June 5th, 1885. 
 
 31une 
 
 Far o er the hills the golden grain 
 Is falling neath the reaper s blade; 
 
 The merry harvest time again, 
 
 Brings joy to every nook and glade. 
 
 The earth awakes with one full voice, 
 And smiles beneath the sun s bright ray. 
 
 From morn to eve the birds rejoice, 
 And charm our hearts with blithesome lay. 
 
 Sweet summer! beautiful! divine! 
 
 Breathes on our hearts a magic spell, 
 And like intoxicating wine, 
 
 She fires the pulse to fiercer swell. 
 
 The fairest month of summer time, 
 The sweetest days are those of June! 
 
 The nights are perfect; how we love, 
 To watch the stars and quiet moon. 
 
 The dreary days are far away, 
 
 We gaze into these deep blue skies, 
 
 And dream of heaven s perfect Day, 
 Where happy summer never dies. 
 
 June 18th, 1884. 
 
 42 
 
The weary day is over, 
 Its toil and care are past; 
 
 The twilight hour approacheth, 
 And we may rest at last. 
 
 The southern breezes murmur, 
 And cool the burning cheek, 
 
 Their odors sweetly linger, 
 While we its blessings seek. 
 
 We watch the shadows gather, 
 Around the hill and vale; 
 
 And hear the gentle vesper, 
 Sung by the nightingale. 
 
 The pale moon floods the valley, 
 With rays of silver light; 
 
 The gems of evening glitter, 
 Above the peaceful night. 
 
 How sweet the twilight hour! 
 
 How dear the calm repose! 
 While pearly dew drops tremble, 
 
 Upon the dreamy rose. 
 
 The soft delicious evening, 
 We love its blissful rest; 
 
 When tired hands are folded, 
 Above the quiet breast. 
 
 Lie down, poor heart, and slumber, 
 Thy toilsome work is o er; 
 
 And dream of rest eternal, 
 Upon the golden shore. 
 
 July 1st, 1883. 
 
 43 
 
Come with me, love, where breathe the gar 
 den flowers 
 Their fragrant sighs upon the tender 
 
 night; 
 And we will watch the stars peep from the 
 
 curtain, 
 Which hides day s clearer light. 
 
 O, sweet the soft, still shadows of the 
 
 evening, 
 And calm the holy hour of pleasant 
 
 dreams, 
 With thy warm glance and dear, loved face 
 
 before me, 
 Life s pathway golden seems. 
 
 The daylight dies; but through the western 
 
 portal 
 
 The after glow still lingers faintly yet 
 To greet the night, and as the last rays 
 
 vanish, 
 There seems a soft regret. 
 
 But night is fair, and as the eve advances 
 Its charms allure the heart from daylight s 
 
 care, 
 Come, love, with me among the groves and 
 
 flowers, 
 Where joy floats on the air. 
 
 44 
 
Summer 10 j 
 
 The warm bright days of summer time 
 
 Will soon have past away; 
 We watch the soft and mellow lights 
 
 That linger round each day. 
 
 How many a heart, in after years, 
 
 With fond regretful sigh, 
 Will turn from lonely cheerless hours, 
 
 To these fair days gone by? 
 
 Then let the joy of each bright hour, 
 
 Be all in all to thee, 
 Nor watch and wait for pleasures far, 
 
 Beyond a trackless sea. 
 
 Fair summer days, too quickly fled, 
 The sweetness and the light, 
 
 Are fading from the earth and sky. 
 Like some loved vision bright. 
 
 \Ye watch the lights and shadows come, 
 
 And love each tender hour; 
 The butterfly and drowsy bee, 
 
 Caress each drooping flower. 
 
 While bidding them a long farewell, 
 
 We loathe to see them fade; 
 But ah! too soon their fairy forms, 
 
 Will pass from wood and glade. 
 
 The little birds mid changing leaves, 
 \Vith saddest sweetest song, 
 
 Would chant one last and dear refrain, 
 And summer s joys prolong. 
 
 45 
 
Each day is warmer, brighter still, 
 
 And charms the hill and dell, 
 Fair Summer while she leaves us breathes 
 
 A passionate farewell. 
 
 These days so pure and fair will live 
 
 In some true heart for aye, 
 And tho the mists and clouds may rise, 
 
 They ll bless ONE summer day. 
 
 Farewell, sweet summer, must it be? 
 
 Ah, then, a long farewell, 
 And when the days are sad and drear, 
 
 Our hearts will bless THY spell. 
 
 We never know life s dearest joys, 
 
 Till they are cold and dead 
 Nor prize our loved ones half so well, 
 
 As when their forms have fled. 
 
 August 24, 1883. 
 
 46 
 
There s a sigh in the wind as it sweeps 
 along, 
 
 Through the heavy shaded bough, 
 But the summer bowers will soon be bare, 
 
 For the leaves are turning now. 
 
 There s a sigh in the wind as it wooes the 
 rose 
 
 For its fragrant breath once more, 
 Ere the autumn s chilling blast shall blight 
 
 The beauty which she wore. 
 
 There s a gentle sigh in the moaning wind 
 
 That echoes in each heart; 
 For Summer plumes her lovely wings, 
 
 And soon she will depart. 
 
 There s a low, sad sigh in the wind to-day, 
 That recalls a voice long flown; 
 
 And its music thrills on my list ning ear, 
 With each breath of the wind s soft tone. 
 
Beautiful 
 
 Beautiful days of the years long departed, 
 Ever your memory awakens regret; 
 
 When the sad winds of the autumn pass by 
 
 me, 
 Whispers a dear voice I ne er can forget. 
 
 When purple tints make the air soft and 
 
 hazy, 
 
 When the sky glows w r ith a beautiful blue, 
 When a loved face beams amid the gold 
 
 glory, 
 
 With earnest eyes that were lovely and 
 true. 
 
 When the sun shines with a light deep and 
 
 mellow, 
 Breathing a spell that is both sweet and 
 
 sad; 
 
 Once more I see the dear smiles that de 
 lighted, 
 
 Thrilling a heart which was thankful and 
 glad. 
 
 Come back, sweet years, for my spirit is 
 lonely, 
 
 Sadly I sigh for one taste of lost bliss; 
 Why did ye vanish so quickly, and leave me 
 
 Only the memory of love s tender kiss. 
 
 Hands that caressed me are cold now, and 
 folded 
 
 Over the bosom which once beat for me; 
 Lips that returned warmest kisses, can never 
 
 Utter my name in love s low melody. 
 
 48 
 
Days of the past, lost and faded forever, 
 Come with sweet visions and memories to 
 
 me; 
 Once more I live o er dear hours that are 
 
 buried 
 Mid the wild waves of life s dark rolling 
 
 Over the tide, in that beautiful Haven, 
 I shall reclaim all the joys I have lost, 
 
 Purer and sweeter they wait for me yonder, 
 \Yhere I shall sing with the glorified host. 
 
 October 10th, 1884. 
 
 r. 
 
of autumn 
 
 Bleak and cold the wind is blowing; 
 
 Steady drops the dreary rain, 
 And w r e look from out the window 
 
 For some little cheer in vain. 
 
 Moaning w r inds that seem to murmur 
 Of a summer late entombed; 
 
 And the weeping rain is falling 
 
 For the flowers that sweetly bloomed. 
 
 Nature mourns her faded brightness, 
 
 With a wail of bitter woe; 
 But we know when winds are balmy 
 
 Violets again shall blow. 
 
 Soon the melancholy hours 
 
 With their dark and heavy wing, 
 
 Will be numbered with the faded, 
 W r hile we welcome back the spring. 
 
 How the heart will prize the coming 
 Of the sweet and sunny hours, 
 
 After dreary days are ended, 
 
 And we greet the op ning flowers. 
 
 \Vhen life flows with even current, 
 And the sky is bright and fair 
 
 Scarcely e er a thought of dying 
 Comes to claim our smallest care. 
 
 But in days of grief and sadness, 
 When no ray of hope appears 
 
 W T eary spirits, lift their vision, 
 
 For the light ne er dimmed by tears. 
 
 50 
 
tZTtjr Autumn OTooD 
 
 In the quiet autumn wood, 
 
 While the low winds steal along, 
 Xeath the drooping boughs I stood, 
 
 Listening to the brooklet s song. 
 Sadder than the last farewell, 
 
 Of loved ones who meet no more, 
 Was the story it would tell, 
 
 As it murmured o er and o er. 
 
 Why the sigh of untold \voe, 
 
 In the autumn s faintest breath? 
 For the golden days, we know, 
 
 Smile o er summer s silent death, 
 Now the leaves are turning fast, 
 
 Soon they ll lie neath winter s snow, 
 For no earthly joy can last, 
 
 Tho we weep to see them go. 
 
 But the drowsy autumn air, 
 
 Wraps the spirit in bright dreams, 
 And the earth is passing fair, 
 
 With the sunlight s softest gleams, 
 Tho I hear the brook and wind, 
 
 Whisper o er and o er good-bye, 
 Still their grief I do not mind, 
 
 For another joy is nigh. 
 
3finDian Rummer 
 
 Fairest flush of dewy spring time, 
 Of the rosy summer s glow, 
 
 Charms not as these autumn hours, 
 Which a subtle spell do throw. 
 
 Quiet, dreamy, golden hours, 
 
 Sometimes soft with purple haze; 
 
 Paler skies than June would gather 
 Round the gay and festive days. 
 
 But the fleecy clouds are drifting 
 O er the calm, blue deep above, 
 
 Beautiful as white-winged vessel, 
 Bringing home the one we love. 
 
 On the bright hill-slope we linger, 
 Where the golden rod is seen; 
 
 And each brilliant blossom greets us, 
 With a crown of burnished sheen. 
 
 And the gorgeous tinted flowers, 
 
 Waving in the balmy air, 
 Star our pathway with bright faces, 
 
 Till the frost shall strip them bare. 
 
 From the portals of the sunset, 
 Where the dying splendors fade, 
 
 Oft we seem to glimpse the beauty 
 Of the gates w r ith gems inlaid. 
 
 And the stillness of the hour, 
 
 W T hen the gloaming turns to night, 
 
 Is as peaceful as our dreaming 
 Of "that land of pure delight." 
 
 October llth, 1886. 
 52 
 
In all the bright land of the fair sunny 
 
 South, 
 
 Or far away clime of the North 
 There is not one home but hath many a 
 
 cause 
 
 In praises and thanks to break forth. 
 We look back across the swift track of the 
 
 year, 
 
 That past since last Thanksgiving day, 
 And see how God s mercies have wrapt us 
 
 about, 
 
 Providing our needs by the way. 
 The fire crackles merrily on the hearthstone 
 
 In many a snug little home, 
 And hearts that have waited and longed for 
 
 the hour, 
 
 Are watching for loved ones to come. 
 The dainties heaped up on the plentiful 
 
 board 
 
 Speak loudly of feasting in store, 
 When all the long absent ones mingle again, 
 
 Within the dear old homestead s door. 
 And when the fond circle is once more com 
 plete, 
 
 What joy fills the spirit of all! 
 And happy the chatter which flashes around, 
 
 While gladness the hour doth befall. 
 But ah, if thus be one beloved image missed, 
 
 And vacant the seat at the board, 
 How tender and soft do we whisper her 
 
 name, 
 Who ne er will to us be restored. 
 
 53 
 
But still her sweet presence is nearer to all, 
 
 Than those smiling faces around, 
 While in every heart speaks the voice that 
 
 is still; 
 
 We hear it above mirth s gay sound. 
 And yet may we whisper our praises to Him, 
 
 Who gave her a happier lot, 
 Than earth s brightest highway to pleasure 
 
 and fame 
 
 An Eden of love, changing not. 
 In seasons of joy when with fervent delight, 
 
 We drink from the fountain of bliss 
 For one perfect moment, we think that up 
 
 there, 
 
 Her joy is far sweeter than this. 
 And in the proud zenith of hope s shining 
 
 day, 
 
 Or ever w r e dream of its close, 
 The storm crested cloud steals the light 
 
 from the sky, 
 
 Leaves black where the color was rose; 
 When raven-winged sorrow the portals ob 
 scure, 
 
 Where once streamed a glory of light, 
 We bless the Death angel who bore her 
 
 away, 
 
 Where day is eternally bright. 
 Thanksgiving! Ah, yes; I had well nigh 
 
 forgot, 
 
 To mingle my voice with the rest, 
 Though having the gifts from a bountiful 
 
 hand 
 
 My portion a thousand fold blest. 
 
 In warfare, in danger, in ordeals fierce 
 
 As the fires of a merciless stake; 
 
 54 
 
His strength hath sustained me and kept 
 
 me secure, 
 
 And saved me for Jesus dear sake. 
 When in some wild moment I craved the 
 
 desire, 
 
 Which filled a poor weak human heart, 
 I thank Thee, my Father, while holding it 
 
 back, 
 
 Thou showdst me a far better part. 
 And whether of sunshine or shadow the 
 
 hour 
 
 Life s \vine, for me, bitter or sweet 
 If thou hold the cup I will drink from Thy 
 
 Hand, 
 
 While praises I breathe at Thy feet. 
 And oh, Gracious Father, my soul boweth 
 
 low, 
 
 Before the full tide of Thy love! 
 And words I would utter fall back on my 
 
 heart, 
 
 While mute lips still silently move. 
 But Thou Who canst read every impulse 
 
 that swells, 
 
 In this proud, happy bosom to-day 
 Wilt see the glad fountain which freshens 
 
 the flowers, 
 
 That spring into bloom by the way. 
 A life that is blended so close within mine, 
 
 That grief cannot touch him alone 
 The nearest and dearest the one best be 
 loved, 
 
 My one precious treasure my son. 
 Ah, surely, a fond mother s heart never 
 
 thrilled, 
 With holier pleasure than mine, 
 
 55 
 
When in his young bosom was kindled the 
 
 flame, 
 
 That caught from Thy favor divine. 
 And through the brief years of his life I 
 
 have asked 
 
 His dear childish feet might be led 
 By Jesus Who loved little ones long ago, 
 And breathed blessings on each bright 
 
 head. 
 
 Not quite twelve fair summers have scat 
 tered their flowers, 
 Along the short path he hath trod, 
 And now in the fresh, tender years of his* 
 
 youth, 
 He gives that dear heart unto God. 
 
 And when from my side he must seek in 
 the world 
 
 The place he is destined to fill 
 The armor and shield of the Lord will re 
 main 
 
 To save him from life s direst ill. 
 Thanksgiving! O, shout it in clarion notes, 
 
 Far over the land and the sea; 
 In gladness, in sorrow, in joy, and in pain, 
 
 "His mercy endureth for me!" 
 
 November 15th. 1886. 
 
Christmas 
 
 The merry, merry days are come, 
 The gayest, brightest of the year; 
 
 When every heart thrills with a chord 
 Responsive to the season s cheer. 
 
 Above the winter wind I hear 
 
 The voice of mirth and maddest glee; 
 
 And e en the wind seems kinder now 
 To touch the bare and barren tree. 
 
 The sky, which might at other times, 
 Seem dreary with its leaden hue, 
 
 And falling rain is still the sky 
 
 Of Christmas Eve, though gray or blue. 
 
 And every heart must own the spell 
 
 Of "Peace on earth, and sweet good will"; 
 
 The evening shadows softer creep 
 Upon the field and distant hill. 
 
 Ah, happy, happy Christmas Eve! 
 
 And while my heart is full and glad, 
 I would that none to-day might be 
 
 For e en one moment, lone or sad. 
 
 May friends long parted meet again, 
 And hearts estranged be reconciled; 
 
 Love s fervor warm the chilling glance 
 Of eyes that once in kindness smiled. 
 
 O may each bosom beat as mine 
 With happiness, to think of bliss 
 
 For me, when soon, ah soon I ll greet 
 A loved one with affection s kiss. 
 
 December 24th, 1887. 
 57 
 
The merry days will soon be here, 
 
 The happy Christmas-tide, 
 And while we revel in its joys, 
 
 Let peace and love abide; 
 All should be full of light and life, 
 
 And hearts should happy be, 
 While meeting with the little ones, 
 
 Around the Christmas tree. 
 Methinks that when our childhood days 
 
 Give place to riper years, 
 The brightest, freshest happiness, 
 
 Fades in the mist of tears; 
 The cares of life so softly rest 
 
 Upon the children s hearts, 
 A little thing will give them joy, 
 
 While sorrow soon departs. 
 Tho many years have past away, 
 
 I mind one Christinas eve, 
 When I a little girl of seven, 
 
 Such fancies bright did weave 
 Of Santa Claus abundant store, 
 
 And would he think of me? 
 I tossed upon my little couch, 
 
 In wild expectancy. 
 The cruel strife of bloody war, 
 
 Was sweeping o er our land, 
 The pretty toys w T ere very scarce, 
 
 And dolls were in demand. 
 My childish heart knew but one wish, 
 
 Of course it was a dolly, 
 To look back now how strange it seems, 
 
 Indeed, it was all folly. 
 
 58 
 
But then, a child s great happiness, 
 
 Is made of simple things, 
 And it should make our spirits glad, 
 
 That sorrow o er them flings 
 So light a weight; I got my doll, 
 
 And never can forget 
 How beautiful she seemed to me, 
 
 Her dear face haunts me yet. 
 A rag doll oh, I hear you laugh, 
 
 But never mind it now, 
 For that sweet time is far away, 
 
 The years sleep neath the snow. 
 O let us make the little ones 
 
 To feel a joy and glee, 
 That sheds a light and peace around, 
 
 And gloom and care will flee. 
 But let us not forget the poor, 
 
 Who scarcely can buy bread; 
 And while we see our lavish boards, 
 
 W 7 ith costly dainties spread; 
 O may we still remember now 
 
 God s poor, who fill the land, 
 And of our feast, give them a part, 
 
 Stretch forth the helping hand. 
 Perhaps in some lone dwelling place, 
 
 \Vhere Poverty stalks grim, 
 A mother weeps in sadness, 
 
 And wildly prays to Him 
 Who promises to answer 
 
 The cry of anguished hearts 
 For means to feed her darlings, 
 
 That prayer a peace imparts. 
 And God speaks to our spirits, 
 
 To help those in distress, 
 
And while we give to others, 
 Our own hearts He will bless. 
 
 O, let the earth in gladness 
 Pour forth its voice of praise, 
 
 For Christ our precious Saviour, 
 The King of Christmas days. 
 
 60 
 
What shall I give you, darling, 
 To prove my love unchanged; 
 
 A token from a heart that ne er 
 From thine can be estranged? 
 
 A Christmas gift for you, dear, 
 
 Should rare and lovely be; 
 From all the bright and dazzling store, 
 
 I d choose, ah, carefully. 
 
 I have no jewel brilliant, 
 
 Or gift of gleaming gold; 
 But the heart I gave you long ago, 
 
 Is faithful as of old. 
 
 So this is the gift, my darling; 
 
 And do I judge aright, 
 To think you prize it even more, 
 
 Than gems of flashing light? 
 
 I wish you a happy Christmas, 
 
 A bright and merry day, 
 And joys that bless the festive hours, 
 
 With pure and shining ray. 
 
 A happy Christmas, darling, 
 
 A heart from sorrow free, 
 And mine, in every joy I share, 
 
 Will fondly think of thee. 
 
 December 21st, 1886. 
 
 61 
 
The cold winds sweep thro the bare 
 
 branches, 
 And brown leaves He heaped on the 
 
 ground; 
 
 The pale gray sky dims the sun s brightness, 
 And snow clouds lie banked all around. 
 
 But still tho the pleasures of Summer 
 Have fled with the months that are gone, 
 
 There s a charm in the cold days of Winter, 
 We feel at this season alone. 
 
 The red berries glow in the brown wood, 
 And sparkle with beautiful hue, 
 
 The dark evergreens on the hillside, 
 Still gladden the cold, silent view. 
 
 All Nature at rest from her labors, 
 
 Seems wrapped in a sweet dreamy sleep; 
 
 The streamlet s low song thrills the heart- 
 pulse, 
 With memories the soul loves to keep. 
 
 How pleasant the long Winter evenings 
 To sit by the bright glowing hearth, 
 
 And read, while the cold hours creep on 
 ward, 
 And soft falls the white robe of earth. 
 
 The brightness and warmth of our chamber 
 Is dear for the contrast outside, 
 
 And voices that come in the storm-wind, 
 Recall some beloved eventide, 
 
 62 
 
When friends that we cherish, ah dearly, 
 Would meet with us round the hearth 
 stone, 
 
 Their faces come back in the silence, 
 They speak in the wind s moaning tone. 
 
 We watch the red coals gleaming brightly, 
 And see forms we loved long ago; 
 
 They rise up before our glad vision, 
 And smile in the fire s ruddy glow. 
 
 O sing the loved songs of the past-time, 
 I long for sweet music to-night; 
 
 And while the winds sob in the darkness, 
 We ll bask in a warm joyous light. 
 
 And tho Winter reigns on the mountain, 
 And chills every valley and plain, 
 
 Tis Summer always to the warm heart, 
 And sorrow hath chilled it in vain. 
 
Ill 
 
 NARRATIVE AND OCCASIONAL 
 
Host ^Letter 
 
 The mellow tints of autumn lay 
 Upon the changing robe of earth, 
 
 And song-birds in their carols trilled 
 A minor strain through all their mirth. 
 
 The fields were fading fast, and far 
 Across the meadows fell the shade, 
 
 As slowly through the pleasant grass, 
 A youth and maiden fondly strayed. 
 
 She who had trod that path full oft, 
 Through all the years she could recall, 
 
 Ne er felt its subtle charm before 
 So tenderly her heart enthrall. 
 
 And he, whose feet had roamed the climes 
 Beyond the sea of storied fame, 
 
 Still thought no land had been so fair, 
 As this, where first he felt love s flame. 
 
 The quiet village held him long 
 
 Beyond what he had thought to stay; 
 
 He saw her face, and sunlight seemed 
 To flood his path with golden ray. 
 
 How swift the summer days had fled! 
 
 How soft and sweet the summer hours, 
 When with her willing hand in his, 
 
 They roamed amid the groves and flowers. 
 
 They paused beside the rustic stile, 
 In her dark eyes he read her heart, 
 
 And she within her woman s soul 
 
 Felt first love s keen and cruel smart. 
 
 67 
 
How brief and blissful was that dream 
 From which her happy heart awoke; 
 
 Stunned and distressed, she scarcely heard 
 The parting words he fondly spoke. 
 
 "To-morrow I must leave you, dear, 
 This eve we part; look not so sad, 
 
 Sweetheart, for I will write to you." 
 She strove to speak in tones as glad. 
 
 Somehow he could not frame the words 
 That trembled on his lips that night, 
 
 But ere a day had passed he wrote 
 The letter that would make it right. 
 
 He told her in a manly way 
 
 Of what her love could be to him, 
 
 And if that precious prize were given, 
 Life s glory never could grow dim. 
 
 And if his fond, sweet hope might live, 
 And he return ere spring had come, 
 
 To claim her for his wife, one word 
 
 From her would bid that dear hope 
 bloom. 
 
 The letter never met her eye; 
 
 Like many more it went astray; 
 And she was left, her load of grief 
 
 To bear through many a weary day. 
 
 He thought she did not care for him, 
 And tried to crush that yearning love 
 
 That filled his heart, and life, and brain, 
 The more when gainst its power he 
 strove. 
 
 68 
 
And thus two fond true hearts were tried 
 And wrung with bitter doubts and fears; 
 
 She hid her sorrow, but no more 
 
 Love touched her heart through long, sad 
 
 years. 
 
 On life s wide sea, these two were borne 
 
 Apart; nor either could forget 
 One golden summer of the past, 
 
 Whose radiance could never set. 
 
 A dear and well remembered face 
 
 Deep in each heart shut out the thought 
 
 Of other love; and looking back, 
 
 Lost hopes with joy and pain were 
 fraught. 
 
 Again they meet; and years have flown; 
 
 They stand within the crowded hall; 
 He late returned from distant lands, 
 
 Beholds her now, the queen of all. 
 
 The village maid was not so fair, 
 As this sweet woman by his side; 
 
 One glance in her soft eyes awoke 
 Regret that ever must abide. 
 
 And she beheld him still the same, 
 Except perhaps more noble grown, 
 
 And browned by tropic suns that brow 
 Where silver midst the dark hair shone. 
 
 And is it strange these two should find 
 A sheltered nook from all apart, 
 
 And once again each pulse should glow 
 With thrilling mem ries of the heart? 
 
 69 
 
And he whose proud soul scorned to stoop 
 And ask for her dear love again 
 
 When once he had been turned away 
 Still felt his warm blood throb with pain. 
 
 "I am so pleased to see you back," 
 She could not keep the w r ords unsaid; 
 
 But while he stern and silent stood, 
 Half timidly she raised her head. 
 
 "I think we d better go," she said, 
 "Not yet," he spoke in husky tone; 
 
 "My letter tell me why you wrote 
 No answer to my pleading one?" 
 
 "Your letter! It has never come 
 To me!" and in her truthful eyes 
 
 He read it all; and she could see 
 In his the pitiful surprise. 
 
 "O lost and happy years," he cried, 
 
 "That should have been so purely blest!" 
 
 Yet still he could not grieve for long, 
 With that dear head upon his breast. 
 
 70 
 
il of t\)t Serpent 
 
 Respectfully Dedicated to Clayton Lodge 
 No. 33, I. O. Q. T. 
 
 In our land of bloom and beauty, 
 
 Where the fairest flowers blow, 
 Where the song-birds in the woodland 
 
 Seem no sorrow e er to know; 
 Where the peaceful hamlets slumber, 
 
 Afid the hills we love so well, 
 And the streamlets softly murmur, 
 
 Through the sweetly scented dell; 
 W here at eve, the sunset golden 
 
 Flashes forth such beauties rare, 
 That the artist and the poet 
 
 Could not dream of land more fair; 
 Where the gentle maiden lingers, 
 
 By the old gate, down the lane, 
 Waiting for the blissful moment, 
 
 When she greets her love again; 
 W T here our mother, Nature, gives us, 
 
 Every joy we fain would know, 
 Is there aught to cause us sorrow, 
 
 Or to whisper tales of woe? 
 But, alas! for outward beauty, 
 
 When the heart with grief is full, 
 When a shadow on our hearthstone, 
 
 Makes our spirits dark and dull; 
 What is there to mar our pleasure 
 
 Cause us nights of weeping spent, 
 Take our hearts best treasures from us, 
 
 Leave our bosoms torn and rent? 
 
Tis a Monster, frightful, fearful, 
 
 Creeping o er the land we love, 
 With its fangs, we know, so deadly, 
 
 Leaving woe where it doth rove. 
 None are safe from the destroyer; 
 
 None may know the anguish wild, 
 That this crawling fiend may cost them, 
 
 Through a father, brother, child. 
 Could the low winds, as they pass us, 
 
 All their tales of sorrow tell, 
 Of the hearts left torn and bleeding, 
 
 By this demon, dark and fell; 
 Could we see the woe and anguish, 
 
 Left behind his fatal track, 
 All the happy homes left blighted, 
 
 Would we e er in courage lack? 
 But we know, full well, his power; 
 
 See him almost at our door; 
 Feel his withering breath beside us; 
 
 Need we go "from shore to shore"? 
 We have seen the true and noble, 
 
 When he stings, grow sick and fall; 
 Seen them strive to rise, but yielding, 
 
 He would have them, after all. 
 We have seen our own dear loved ones, 
 
 Writhing in his fatal grasp, 
 Seen him laugh, and mock our anguish, 
 
 While he d draw the deathly clasp; 
 Seen him seize the fairest flowers; 
 
 Seen him drink the heart s best blood, 
 And the widow and the orphan, 
 
 Welt ring in a crimson flood. 
 We have known the bright and lovely, 
 
 Of our land, fall in his power; 
 And beheld him, coming onward, 
 
 Making dark the brightest hour. 
 72 
 
Oh, how long, I say, my brothers; 
 
 Sisters, too, I ask, how long 
 Shall we know this giant evil, 
 
 Sung in story and in song; 
 And mourn o er the devastation 
 
 Left us by the demon bold, 
 Weeping o er the dear ones, fallen, 
 
 And our hands still idly fold? 
 See the happy homes left darkened 
 
 See him gloating o er the spoil 
 See his head held high, exultant 
 
 See him in his fatal coil. 
 We have seen the best and brightest, 
 
 Lying low with want and pain; 
 Seen hope s sweetest blossoms wither, 
 
 Ne er to bloom for them again! 
 Arise! arise! and onward, brothers; 
 
 Sisters, lend a helping hand; 
 Let us slay the fearful monster; 
 
 Let us save our stricken land, 
 E er the darksome night of sorrow, 
 
 Close around us while we wait, 
 And o er tombs of lost and loved ones, 
 
 We shall weep, alas, too late. 
 Let us rise in might and power; 
 
 Buckle on our sword and shield; 
 Onward! forward! to the rescue 
 
 Of the dying on the field! 
 But why stay to raise the fallen? 
 
 Why the erring ones to chide? 
 Stay to soothe the smitten victims, 
 
 And still let the serpent glide ? 
 Let us hasten to the battle; 
 
 Ask for guidance from on high, 
 
 73 
 
For our Father will assist us, 
 When He hears our earnest cry. 
 
 W T e are ready for the warfare; 
 Let us love God s holy laws; 
 
 Crush the hated liquor traffic 
 
 Speed the glorious Temperance Cause. 
 
Chief 
 
 The song-bird of the sunny South 
 Chants forth a dirge of sad refrain, 
 
 And every heart is bowed with woe, 
 For thee, our mighty Chieftain, slain! 
 
 The moaning winds of autumn time 
 Breathe out a bitter, wailing cry; 
 
 And e en the sunlight falls in gloom, 
 Since thou in marble state doth lie. 
 
 O grand and good! O pure and true, 
 
 O kingly type of all the best! 
 Thy steady hand, so firm and strong, 
 
 Didst give Columbia s lofty crest. 
 
 Our noble ship of state, with thee 
 To guide her over roughest wave, 
 
 Hath safely made the proudest ports, 
 
 Thou her brave crew didst shield and 
 save. 
 
 O not to-day, or yesterday, 
 
 Or days to come, saw or will see, 
 
 Thy peer in matchless character, 
 Supreme in all integrity! 
 
 O ruler of our loyal hearts, 
 
 We can but weep we will we must, 
 To see thy gracious form laid low, 
 
 And mingled with the common dust. 
 
 McKinley 
 
Or e er our Father didst decree 
 
 That them shouldst lay thine armor down, 
 O fell and bloody deed that gave 
 
 Thy princely head the martyr s crown! 
 
 O cruel hand which smote the blow, 
 That tore a million hearts in twain! 
 
 And ne er for thee shall sorrow cease, 
 
 While southern suns shall wax and wane. 
 
 Thy name in all the days to come 
 Shall shine in hearts that hold thee dear; 
 
 For her, who saddest tears doth weep, 
 We plead our God s protecting" care. 
 
 Our grief, which words refuse to tell, 
 And e en the bravest heart unmans, 
 
 Is softened by the precious boon 
 Of sympathy from other lands. 
 
 We thank our friends beyond the seas, 
 Our brothers in this hour of woe; 
 
 Their prayer we need, their help we prize, 
 While crushed beneath this heavy blow. 
 
 May God have pity on our land, 
 Whose colors trail upon the earth! 
 
 For darker day hath never been, 
 
 Since Thou didst give our nation birth! 
 
 - 
 
Cfriir of g>t, Helena 
 
 Far out on the brow of the tropical sea, 
 There stands a lone isle looking out frown- 
 
 ingly; 
 Its grey mountains rise from the wave to 
 
 the sky, 
 And its rock-girdled shore greets the sailor s 
 
 keen eye. 
 
 A ship gliding o er the dark waters so blue, 
 Is bound for that harbor, her path straight 
 
 and true; 
 
 A proud monarch gazes far over the foam, 
 On that rock in the ocean which now is his 
 
 home. 
 
 O who shall relate the fierce storm in that 
 
 breast, 
 
 Of wildest emotions which never can rest! 
 His power is departed, his glory is shorn; 
 A captive in bonds to that island he s borne. 
 
 Fair France, well beloved of Napoleon s 
 
 best years, 
 Can you dwell on his sorrows without 
 
 bloody tears? 
 Can you think of his greatness, his power, 
 
 his pride, 
 And leave him to fret out his life o er the 
 
 tide? 
 
 O, Frenchman, subdued, in this hour of 
 
 distress, 
 Weep, weep for your king, for you need 
 
 not repress 
 
 77 
 
The pain in your heart or the tear in your 
 
 eye, 
 While the bravest of heroes is left there 
 
 to die. 
 
 Yet still, though he dwells on that isle of 
 
 the sea, 
 His name thrills the world with a strange 
 
 witchery. 
 The nations of earth will remember that 
 
 name, 
 While the ocean, the rocks and the hills 
 
 are the same. 
 
 The bitter years passed in their wearisome 
 way; 
 
 The Emp ror still guarded by night and by 
 day, 
 
 Looks out from the heights of that storm- 
 beaten shore, 
 
 And dreams of that land he shall see riever- 
 
 Away, far away o er the deep surging sea, 
 Those dim, tired eyes looking out longingly, 
 Oh, God, can it be that no rescue will come, 
 Is this burning rock the great warrior s 
 home? 
 
 The days wear away and the long months 
 creep by; 
 
 The dark hills look out o er the waves si 
 lently. 
 
 Napoleon, still caged in that jail of the sea, 
 
 Is fretting uncared for and droops day by 
 day. 
 
 78 
 
That proud spirit broken, that heart in des 
 pair, 
 
 While the murmuring billows fling back his 
 
 wild prayer; 
 He thinks of those years, oh, so brilliant 
 
 and grand, 
 And he the bright star which illumined the 
 
 land; 
 
 The high and the noble, from countries afar, 
 Bowed low at his shrine; in the annals of 
 war 
 
 That name shone in glory, so far and so 
 
 wide, 
 Men breathed it with reverence, with joy 
 
 and with pride! 
 
 But now, ah, how changed! And he beat 
 
 on his breast, 
 Where the fangs of disease tore his soul 
 
 with unrest. 
 
 A torture was tearing his vitals away; 
 Life s hopes had departed, and now he could 
 
 pray 
 
 For the mercy of Heaven; at last it had 
 come; 
 
 That great heart found rest in its lone ocean 
 home. 
 
 They laid him to sleep by the side of the 
 
 sea, 
 Though he begged that his grave in his own 
 
 land might be. 
 
 Long years passed away e re his foes did 
 
 relent, 
 Their wrath had subsided, their vengeance 
 
 was spent; 
 
 79 
 
His ashes were borne to the land that he 
 
 loved; 
 They rest by the Seine, and will ne er be 
 
 removed. 
 
 Napoleon, thy sorrows endear thee to all; 
 We rejoice at thy greatness, we weep for 
 
 thy fall; 
 And still on the isle, and the sea, and the 
 
 shore, 
 That name, proud and fearless, will shine 
 
 evermore! 
 
 8c 
 
&fter Ctonup gears? Si 
 
 He held her closely to his heart; 
 
 "Dear wife," he said, "farewell; 
 Tis sad to leave you, dearest one, 
 
 This sorrow none can tell." 
 
 "But can I keep my place at home, 
 While comrades swell the throng, 
 
 Who fight for home and liberty, 
 With valiant hearts, and strong?" 
 
 "No, let me die, if needs must be, 
 For this our Southern Land; 
 
 My heart is panting- for the strife, 
 And with the brave I ll stand." 
 
 One fond embrace as close as death, 
 
 Her heart is breaking now, 
 "O, shall we meet again?" she cries, 
 
 With pale and anguished brow. 
 
 "Yes, when this dark and bloody strife 
 Is o er, and peace has come, 
 
 I will return to you, my own, 
 And this, our happy home." 
 
 A hurried kiss, a wailing cry, 
 
 He tears himself away; 
 The memory of that parting hour 
 
 Haunts her for many a day. 
 
 The long and weary months creep by, 
 
 No tidings tell his fate; 
 " O, if he lives he will return, 
 
 For him I watch and wait." 
 
 81 
 
That faithful wife, as years would pass, 
 
 Wept o er his long delay; 
 The war had ended long ago, 
 
 Yet still he is away. 
 
 "I know he s dead; it must be so; 
 
 But when and where he died 
 I fain would know; I d find his grave, 
 
 And kneel down by his side." 
 
 For twenty weary years, and more, 
 
 She lived in doubt and fear, 
 The days could bring no joy to her. 
 
 The hours were sad and drear. 
 
 And when they brought our soldiers home, 
 
 From Arlington s lone height, 
 This sad-eyed woman s heart was stirred, 
 
 And thrilled thro sorrow s blight. 
 
 She sent the fairest freshest flowers, 
 
 In memory of that name, 
 And with the crowds who sought the spot, 
 
 This gentle woman came. 
 
 She stands beside a casket now, 
 
 To read the names outside, 
 "Ah, what is this? Tis he! tis he!" 
 
 In joy and grief she cried. 
 
 "My husband, is it thus we meet? 
 
 But oh, thank God, thank God, 
 Your precious ashes now shall rest 
 
 Beneath our own loved sod." 
 
 She blessed the day, she praised the hour, 
 That brought him home once more; 
 
 And while she weeps her heart finds rest 
 It could not know before. 
 
 82 
 
"^Titanic 
 
 She was queen of all the seacraft, 
 
 Beautiful and strong and brave, 
 And her like ne er lifted anchor 
 
 From the dimpling sun-bright wave. 
 She was firmly wrought together, 
 
 Oaken beams and metal bands, 
 And her artisans said proudly 
 
 "She surpasses all demands." 
 And her owners satisfaction, 
 
 While they tho t of golden gain, 
 Coming to their eager fingers 
 
 From this palace on the main, 
 \\~as so deep and all absorbing, 
 
 That they failed where care was due 
 To provide sufficient safety 
 
 For the passengers and crew. 
 And the word went forth that swifter 
 
 Than the fleetest bark that sails 
 Would this mighty ocean monster 
 
 Make the trip thro storm and gales. 
 While the comfort of her cabins 
 
 And her staterooms costly ease, 
 Made her first among the fairest, 
 
 That e er braved the surging seas. 
 There were many of the famous, 
 
 And the rich and great of earth, 
 Who took passage on that steamer, 
 
 In her cabins sought a berth. 
 And the lowly peasant woman, 
 
 With her babe upon her breast, 
 From the land where custom makes her 
 
 But a slave, was with the rest. 
 
With bright hopes and hearts untroubled, 
 
 All were ready to set sail; 
 Cheery were the good-byes spoken 
 
 As they took the trackless trail. 
 For, was not the great director 
 
 Of the line among that throng? 
 He would see that all things needful 
 
 For their safety be along. 
 Merry-making, joyous meetings, 
 
 With the friends who dwelt aboard 
 And the first few days went smoothly, 
 
 Even with the steerage horde. 
 But it came to pass, that scarcely 
 
 Had the Sabbath passed away, 
 When there came a solemn warning 
 
 At the closing of the day, 
 "You are in a field of icebergs," 
 
 Said the message, "Have a care!" 
 But the captain and director 
 
 Tho t, "What is it we ll not dare? 
 With the staunchest boat that ever 
 
 Plowed the deep and heaving sea 
 What care we for any iceberg, 
 
 Or the fiercest thing that be?" 
 So, a knot was never slackened, 
 
 In the roaring, rushing speed, 
 Of the mighty ship "Titanic!" 
 
 O, she was a queen indeed! 
 And the revelries grew higher, 
 
 While the wine cup flashed its glow, 
 And the light and careless laughter 
 
 Rippled o er the waters flow. 
 Hark! A shock! "We have struck some 
 thing!" 
 
 But the game of cards went on, 
 
 81 
 
And the merriment grew wilder, 
 
 With the nearing of the dawn. 
 "She is listing!" someone shouted; 
 
 "Tis an iceberg, high and grim; 
 See, it rears its deadly pillars 
 
 Far above the ocean s rim!" 
 And the captain s face grew pallid 
 
 As the snow upon those peaks, 
 While the air was rent asunder 
 
 With the women s fearful shrieks. 
 "Get the life boats!" rang the order; 
 
 "Hasten! we are sinking fast! 
 Bring the women and the children! 
 
 Men must wait until the last!" 
 But the women held back, weeping, 
 
 With their arms in death-like clasp, 
 Round their loved ones; and stern orders 
 
 Failed to loosen that fond grasp. 
 Some were rudely torn asunder, 
 
 And the sad, heart-breaking wail, 
 Clave the night with mournful sobbing, 
 
 But no tears could then avail. 
 One devoted wife clung closely 
 
 To her aged husband s side; 
 "We will die together, dearest; 
 
 Nothing shall our love divide; 
 We are old, dear heart, and never 
 
 \Vill I leave you here alone," 
 And he strained her to his bosom, 
 
 While his lips made bitter moan. 
 But with weeping he besought her 
 
 That she get into the boat, 
 But she clung the closer to him; 
 
 Then, her name in gold she wrote, 
 
 85 
 
And she was a Jewish woman, 
 
 Like the faithful wives of old, 
 And thro all the coming ages, 
 
 Her devotion will be told. 
 O, the chivalry of seamen 
 
 Shone resplendent, in that hour! 
 "Women first!" the cry continued, 
 
 While they worked with might and power. 
 And a few were safely rescued, 
 
 By the good "Carpathia," 
 For she flew with speed and sureness, 
 
 At the message from afar. 
 For the noble ship, "Titanic" 
 Had to call in her distress; 
 "We are sinking! Come and save us! 
 
 We are in a direful stress!" 
 The "Carpathia" was risking 
 
 Lives, and ship, and all on board, 
 When she steamed so near the icebergs 
 
 To relieve that suff ring horde. 
 Blessings on that ship, forever! 
 
 May she stem the roughest tide; 
 With her steady course unhindered, 
 
 And all dangers safe outride. 
 And the lowly peasant woman, 
 
 With her baby in her arms, 
 Came before the monied monarchs, 
 
 Where was then their gold, and charms? 
 And the woman tho t, " Twas different 
 
 In the land from whence I came, 
 Where the men are ever foremost; 
 
 Can it be, I am the same?" 
 But she soon will learn the reason 
 Why her kind are succored here; 
 
 86 
 
Tis the Christland, and His Spirit 
 
 Shields the weakest, everywhere. 
 And the millionaire was crying, 
 
 Drowning like a worthless dog; 
 "Take my money! save me! save me!" 
 
 But, unheeded as the fog, 
 That a winding sheet was making 
 
 For the doomed and shattered bark, 
 Were his cries, so keen and piercing, 
 
 Thro the fearful midnight dark! 
 O, the wails of bitter anguish, 
 
 From more than a thousand men; 
 For the all too few, frail life boats, 
 
 For these, came not back again. 
 "Let us play," said a musician; 
 
 He was leader of the band. 
 "Come, my comrades, while death waits us, 
 
 We will close together stand. 
 Let your notes ring clear and solemn, 
 
 Deep and prayerful o er the sea; 
 While the ship is sinking, sinking, 
 
 Nearer O, my God to Thee, 
 Nearer, while the waves rise higher, 
 
 Nearer, in death s icy chill; 
 \Vhile all earthly hopes are fading 
 
 Let us feel Thee nearer still." 
 And the music grew still sweeter, 
 
 Till it seemed an angel choir, 
 Came to join the funeral prayer, 
 
 And fulfill each soul s desire. 
 Grand, true men, we bless that music 
 
 Wafted to us from afar, 
 And thrice blessed be forever, 
 
 That brave ship "Carpathia!" 
 
The Ninmelah Agency nestled 
 Amid the bleak hills of the West; 
 
 Its flag waved o er many a wigwam 
 Of heavy hearts, sad and distrest. 
 
 One night, as I sat in my lodgings, 
 A-dreaming of friends far away, 
 
 And w r atched in the mouldering embers, 
 Dear faces that came not to stay, 
 
 I heard the far tinkle of dog-bells, 
 Then yelps, as the sled nearer drew; 
 
 A head was thrust in at my doorway: 
 "Say, doctor, here s someone for you." 
 
 A tall, brawny Indian was waiting, 
 His dog team must take me, he said. 
 
 I thought of the storm and the tempest, 
 And snow, with a feeling of dread. 
 
 But his sad, deepset eyes, spoke such sor 
 row, 
 
 I waited his story to hear; 
 "The Storm Spirit cursed fair Osseo, 
 
 Her life to her father is dear. 
 
 Old Kennebeak stands bare and lonely, 
 A tall bending pine at his feet; 
 
 The frost hath breathed blight on the flow 
 ers 
 That made the dark winter days sweet. 
 
 88 
 
Just one drooping bud in his wigwam 
 The last of old Kennebeak brave; 
 
 The medicine man of the pale face 
 It maybe her young life can save." 
 
 I drew on my great coat and started; 
 
 "You ll freeze," called the men at my 
 
 back; 
 Tis ten miles or more to their village, 
 
 And snow lying deep on the track." 
 
 The old chieftain tucked me in snugly, 
 The sled was too narrow for two, 
 
 But close by my side did he never 
 
 Once lose step, the whole journey thro . 
 
 How swiftly we sped o er the ice lake, 
 And soon the rude tents rose to view; 
 
 He lifted the flap of his doorway, 
 
 The sight pierced my man s spirit thro ! 
 
 Shrieks, howls and the rattle of drum-beats 
 From strange watchers rent the night air. 
 
 The dying girl started in terror 
 
 At sounds dread beyond all compare! 
 
 I saw at a glance she was going; 
 
 The chief read the same in my face. 
 "To soothe her is all I can offer," 
 
 I said, "but you ll first clear the place." 
 
 We watched by her side till the dawning, 
 When rousing, she called to the chief: 
 
 "My Father, is Osseo better? 
 
 Has white medicine brought relief?" 
 
 89 
 
Old Kennebeak lifted her higher, 
 
 And laid her dark head on his breast; 
 
 "My flower must go to the sunland, 
 
 The bright hunting grounds of the blest." 
 
 A moan from a spirit in anguish, 
 
 A sob shook the frail, wasted form; 
 
 "I don t want to leave you, my Father, 
 Our lodge is so pleasant and warm. 
 
 The grave, oh, so cold and so lonely, 
 The bright hunting grounds far away, 
 
 I fear that they will not admit me; 
 Will you let poor Osseo stay?" 
 
 I knelt by her side and I told her 
 
 The story of infinite love; 
 Of Jesus, who tenderly waited 
 
 To bear her in safety above. 
 
 "He loves me!" she cried, "the good chief! 
 
 No fear frightens Osseo now! 
 But pale face, how long have you known 
 this?" 
 
 And eager the look on her brow. 
 
 I said twas the tale of my people; 
 
 My mother had told it to me; 
 Her eyes great and dark searched me 
 wildly, 
 
 And asked of the sad mystery. 
 
 "So long you have known it and never 
 
 Have told us the story before! 
 Strange, strange! both my mother and 
 sister 
 
 Were fearful to pass the dark door!" 
 
 90 
 
Ah, sealed were my lips at that moment; 
 
 My spirit bowed down at the words. 
 "She sleeps," said the chief, "and will waken 
 
 No more to the song of the birds!" 
 
 Tis years since that night, still before me 
 The old chief kneels, hopeless and sad; 
 
 While Osseo whispers, "You kept back 
 The tidings so joyful and glad!" 
 
 01 
 
15lur HiDgr 
 
 O, the hills of Carolina, rising far above the 
 
 cloud mist, 
 Reaching up beyond the vision that would 
 
 pierce into the blue; 
 
 Kingly crests, inviting, calling, lifting heav 
 enward the spirit 
 That would seek the goal supernal, where 
 
 awaits the best and true. 
 O, the peaceful rest, and tranquil, of the 
 
 air among the mountains, 
 When w r e view the giant monarchs, stand 
 ing changeless, strong and tall; 
 Heads uncovered to their Maker, looking 
 
 ever to the skyline, 
 Of the city fair and holy; gate of pearl 
 
 and gem-starred wall; 
 
 When at morn the rising sunbeams shim 
 mer on the chestnut blossoms, 
 Snowy fringes, drooping gracefully from 
 
 every fragrant bough, 
 And the laurel s pearly pinkness mingles 
 
 with the rhododendron, 
 Wrapt we gaze and dream what Eden w r as 
 
 ere sin came trailing through. 
 O, the glory of the noontide in the heart of 
 
 early summer, 
 \Vhen the breezes blow refreshing from 
 
 the heights of "granite towers," 
 "Ho, for Carolina," sang we, with the poet 
 
 of our North State; 
 
 There can be no fairer region than this 
 sunny land of ours. 
 
 92 
 
Blue Ridge! Scene of happy meetings 
 
 where we gather in the June time, 
 With the noblest and the brightest, and 
 
 the rarest minds of earth, 
 Telling us of highest vision, as the Master 
 
 taught on hill-top, 
 
 Sacred Olivet, in ages gone, where broth 
 erhood had birth. 
 O, the evenings in the open on the grass 
 
 slope of the hillside, 
 With our comrades from all lands, who 
 
 came to hear the words of life, 
 Of realities eternal, while our hearts were 
 
 knit together, 
 That the healing of the nations, from all 
 
 selfishness and strife! 
 Oriental eyes of darkness, deep and earnest, 
 
 gleamed around us, 
 Olive cheeks, aglow with purpose high 
 
 and holy, at our side. 
 Dusky brows and features foreign, showed 
 
 one covenant, one effort, 
 One endeavor after service, through what 
 ever might betide. 
 
 O, the consecrated workers of the Associa 
 tion Conference, 
 And the tender bonds that drew us close, 
 
 to labor heart to heart, 
 
 For the saving of the jewels of the Mas 
 ter s spreading kingdom, 
 Those he bought with a price, and w r e, 
 
 too, must bear a part 
 In assisting some benighted soul toward 
 
 the hills of glory, 
 
 If we hope to claim His welcome smile 
 when life s brief day is done. 
 
 93 
 
O, the vision splendid given, while we gazed 
 
 on rays of beauty, 
 
 Resting on the mountain peaks at the set 
 ting of the sun. 
 O, the hills of Carolina, long will linger 
 
 what ye gave us, 
 When we met amid your witchery in 
 
 balmy summer time; 
 And the friendships dear and tender, will 
 
 be cherished with our life breath, 
 Sweet remembrances now w r e waft you in 
 this simple southern rhyme. 
 
IV 
 HOME 
 
Dear one, my sad heart fondly dwells 
 \\ith those sweet years, so long ago; 
 
 When life was bright and beautiful, 
 And thou, the best of all below. 
 
 Tho many a weary day has past, 
 And lonely nights of pain and care, 
 
 Yet still thou art my heart s deep sigh, 
 Thine image closely nestles there. 
 
 I see again thy soft dark eyes, 
 So fondly gaze into mine own; 
 
 In dreams I hold thy precious form, 
 But, oh, the vision s quickly flown. 
 
 I sit alone in sadness now, 
 
 And think of thee, my own sw r eet one; 
 O, golden days come back to me, 
 
 And bring once more my life s bright sun! 
 
 I loved thee, oh, so tenderly, 
 
 Thou wast the light of every hour; 
 
 But now I ll see thee never more, 
 
 And darkness o er my life doth lower. 
 
 When last I saw thy gentle form, 
 
 So dearly loved, but cold and still, 
 I thought my heart must break with woe, 
 I COULD NOT bow to Heaven s will. 
 
 O, darling, in your far off home, 
 Beyond the reach of earthly care, 
 
 Dost think of one who loved thee well, 
 And prays to find thee waiting there? 
 
 97 
 
When first my weary eyes behold, 
 The glory of that brighter land, 
 
 O, let me clasp thee in my arms, 
 
 And roam with thee, the golden strand, 
 
 I long to hear thy voice again, 
 
 My heart aches for its thrilling tones, 
 
 Dearer than earthly melody, 
 Or any joy my spirit owns. 
 
 My own! yes mine, thro life or death, 
 The years can bring no change to me; 
 
 And when the angel lets me in, 
 
 O, may mine eyes first rest on thee. 
 
 O, you who have your treasures now, 
 And hold a little thrilling form, 
 
 O, clasp them closer, closer still, 
 
 And love them while that heart is warm. 
 
 But, Father, thou wast kind and good, 
 To take my darling to Thy rest, 
 
 And tho I miss her from my side, 
 I ll pray to meet her with the blest. 
 
 March 17th, 1883. 
 
Cl)itol)oo& Jftome 
 
 Fell me dear ones, if you miss me 
 
 In my childhood s home to-night; 
 Is there sorrow with your spirits, 
 
 That no other voice can light? 
 Do you miss my form and footstep, 
 
 Do yon sigh for me to come, 
 Tell me if you miss me, loved ones, 
 
 In my girlhood s happy home? 
 
 \ es, 1 know your hearts will cherish 
 
 Every mem ry of my face, 
 And your love will light my pathway, 
 
 Tho I miss your fond embrace. 
 And the songs we sang together, 
 
 In the happy days of yore, 
 Still are dearer than all others, 
 
 Tho 1 sing with you no more. 
 
 Oh, this weary watching, waiting , 
 
 For a time that tarries long! 
 Do you find the hours so lonelv, 
 
 \\ hile you miss the evening song? 
 Oh, how often in the twilight, 
 
 Have we joyed in music s spell, 
 And our hearts were bound together 
 
 \\ ith a love no tongue can tell. 
 
 Tho the storms of life shall gather, 
 Round my heart in coming years, 
 
 And 1 miss the light and gladness, 
 While 1 look thro blinding tears; 
 
Still the memory of those loved ones, 
 
 In my home so far awaj r , 
 Gives a precious joy and sweetness, 
 
 That will bless life s latest day. 
 
 July, 1883. 
 
 Don t keep your pleasant manners, 
 
 And gentle phrases, too, 
 For strangers; be your best at home, 
 
 Where true hearts beat for you. 
 
 Be kind to those who love you, 
 
 Agreeable always; 
 Keep not the bright and cheerful smile 
 
 Reserved for better days. 
 
 Tis well to be attentive 
 
 And pleasant to the guest; 
 But speak your sweetest, kindest words, 
 
 To those who love you best. 
 
 July 6th, 1885. 
 
 100 
 
i&osa 
 
 I sit here alone in my chamber to-night, 
 While every fond thought is of thee; 
 
 O, welcome fair vision so radiant and bright, 
 That brings back those last hours to me! 
 
 Sweet sister, beloved of my earliest years, 
 
 1 cannot be happy and gay, 
 I murmur thy name, while the gathering 
 tears, 
 
 Remind me that thou art away. 
 
 I m lonely, I miss thee and lon^ -for the^ 
 
 now, 
 
 Come lean your fair head on,.m\ br3ast; 
 I d kiss every shade from thy pure marble 
 
 brow, 
 And soothe thy sweet spirit to rest. 
 
 Dear arms that caressed me so long, long 
 
 ago, 
 
 Enfold me as fondly once more; 
 O, sad are the hours as they pass, and I 
 
 know 
 They will not thy presence restore. 
 
 My heart grieves in pain as the long months 
 
 creep by, 
 
 I fret for one sight of thy face; 
 I sigh for the light of thy laughing blue 
 
 eye, 
 That brightens the dreariest place. 
 
But still I will watch, I will wait, I will 
 
 hope, 
 
 For a day that will bring thee again. 
 May sunshine surround thee, and tho I 
 
 may mope, 
 I ll pray that your life has no pain. 
 
 O, do you, my darling, think often of me, 
 And long for the moment to come, 
 
 When meeting, all sadness and sorrow will 
 
 flee, 
 As the lone heart returns to its home? 
 
 No other can take your dear place in my 
 heart, 
 
 TiVpldce that was yours long ago, 
 O, come little sister, the sad tears will start, 
 
 \V j hilc n-igb.t ,Vvinds moan softly and low. 
 
 I watch the bright stars in the far away 
 
 blue, 
 
 And think that my loved one s fair form, 
 Shines deep in my heart just as lovely and 
 
 true 
 And nestles so closely and warm. 
 
 I dream of those years when our lives were 
 
 as one, 
 
 Each day brought some joy to our hearts, 
 Ah, if we had known ere those bright days 
 
 were flown, 
 How swiftly life s springtime departs! 
 
 September 28th, 1883. 
 
 102 
 
I press them to my quivering lips, 
 
 And think of days gone by; 
 Once more I see those tiny feet, 
 
 And kiss them joyously. 
 
 Dear feet that now can never stray, 
 
 I love to think that there 
 They wander through a blissful realm, 
 
 With angels bright and fair. 
 
 precious feet that tread the shore 
 Beside the crystal sea, 
 
 Tis sweet unto my lonely heart 
 To know they wait for me. 
 
 But darling, once my life s deep joy 
 
 \Yas found in thee alone, 
 And thou wast fairer to mine eyes 
 
 Than all the world can own. 
 
 These little stockings that I prize, 
 
 Beyond all else beside, 
 Recall those joys that now are fled, 
 
 As ripples on the tide. 
 
 How often in that happy time 
 
 I ve played with baby s feet, 
 And thought that naught was ever made 
 
 One-half so fair and sweet. 
 
 1 hear once more her merry laugh, 
 And kiss the cherub s mouth, 
 
 O sweeter was her pure soft breath 
 Than winds amid the South. 
 
 103 
 
I force the struggling tears away, 
 And crush my aching heart, 
 
 And try to make my soul believe 
 Twas best for us to part. 
 
 The feet that wore these stockings once 
 
 Can never weary grow; 
 No shade of sorrow now can rest 
 
 Upon her brow of snow. 
 
 November 15th, 1883. 
 
 104 
 
I know a little darling 
 
 Whose merry laughing eyes 
 Are brighter than the sunbeams 
 
 That light the summer skies. 
 The sweetest dimples nestle 
 
 In baby s rosy cheek, 
 And tho we oft caress him, 
 
 Our love we ne er can speak. 
 
 We clasp the fair-haired darling, 
 
 And kiss him o er and o er; 
 And wonder if the world contains, 
 
 Mid all its precious store, 
 A gift that could be dearer 
 
 Than this our baby boy; 
 No darling, not in all the earth, 
 
 Is one so sweet as Roy. 
 
 Oh, loved one, do we worship thee; 
 
 Is love like our s a sin? 
 But why are you so fair and sweet, 
 
 To glad our hearts within? 
 And if our darling soars away, 
 
 To fairer climes above, 
 We still will know our grateful hearts 
 
 Give him a wealth of love. 
 
 We pray no harm may come to him; 
 
 We ask that he may stay, 
 To bless our earthly journey, 
 
 A-down the toilsome way. 
 
 105 
 
But if the angels call him, 
 
 To join the shining band, 
 We think he ll be the fairest 
 
 In all that happy land. 
 
 Dear little hands, so soft and white, 
 
 That seem so frail and weak, 
 God grant that they may scatter 
 
 A light to spirits bleak. 
 And may our darling s heart be strong, 
 
 To breast the ills of fate, 
 And find at last the happiness, 
 
 Within the golden gate. 
 
 December 13th, 1883. 
 
 106 
 
(3Io 
 
 My heart is sad, dear Annie, 
 And spring" will come in vain 
 
 For me; I think of naught but thee, 
 Upon that couch of pain. 
 
 I cannot prize the music 
 
 Of merry song-birds lay; 
 The voice which would delight me more 
 
 Is silent thro tin- day. 
 
 1 cannot love the sunshine, 
 
 It does not make me glad; 
 I know you cannot see it, dear, 
 
 And oh, my heart is sad! 
 
 The hyacinths are blooming, 
 
 And violets ere long 
 \\ ill lift their purple eyes and smile, 
 
 To hear the brooklet s song. 
 
 The joys which once did charm me, 
 
 Bring only sadness now, 
 For thou, dear one, art lying low, 
 With hot and throbbing brow. 
 
 The soft breeze hath no power, 
 To cool that burning cheek; 
 
 The form, which late was full and round, 
 Is thin and frail and weak. 
 
 The eye which beamed so brightly 
 
 The beautiful brown eye 
 Is sunken with the fever s blight, 
 
 And I can onlv sigh! 
 
 107 
 
O, if my prayers could heal you, 
 
 Or tears allay your pain, 
 You had been well long weeks ago, 
 
 But I have wept in vain. 
 
 The songs that are the sweetest, 
 
 I cannot dare to sing; 
 You sang them once, oh Annie dear, 
 
 Their words sad mem ries bring. 
 
 When e er I touch the organ, 
 
 I can but think of you; 
 Your fingers once awoke the keys, 
 
 And o er them lightly flew. 
 
 When shall I hear you sing, dear, 
 As once you sang for me? 
 
 The question only makes me weep, 
 Sad tears fall silently. 
 
 February 14th, 1884. 
 
 1 08 
 
SDream 
 
 Some months ago I had a fearful dream, 
 Even yet the memory will make me weep; 
 
 And when I look on thee I ask my God 
 To spare my life the horror of that sleep. 
 
 I dreamed that you were dead, and then I 
 
 knew 
 How utterly my life was linked with 
 
 thine; 
 
 I knelt beside your dear and lifeless form, 
 And prayed the vital spark might pass 
 from mine. 
 
 I laid your precious head upon my breast; 
 I clasped you in a passionate embrace; 
 In yearning tones I spoke your loved, sweet 
 
 name, 
 
 A thousand times I kissed your cold, 
 white face. 
 
 And oh, what bitter, bitter tears I shed! 
 
 I murmured every fond and tender word 
 In love s intensest agony; it seemed 
 
 That e en in death s deep sleep you must 
 have heard. 
 
 I thought my warm caresses would restore 
 One throb to that dear heart which loved 
 me well; 
 
 1 knew it then I felt that twas mine own 
 Unto the last and sorrowful farewell. 
 
 log 
 
"Dear love," I said, "oh can you hear me 
 
 now? 
 My soul is bowed with grief I cannot 
 
 bear; 
 
 I cannot live without thee; let me rest 
 My form beside thee, and thy low couch 
 share. 
 
 I cannot live without thee! even now 
 
 A blackness closes round my breaking 
 
 heart; 
 Life s every hope and joy is lost with thee; 
 
 cruel Death, to tear our souls apart!" 
 
 When I awoke I laughed aloud in joy, 
 Although mine eyes were wet with recent 
 
 tears; 
 
 My happy heart was lifted up to Heaven 
 In praise and thankfulness; gone were all 
 fears. 
 
 When next I gazed upon your form and 
 
 face, 
 Life seemed so beautiful, Hope s shining 
 
 beam 
 Lit all the future with a hallowed light; 
 
 1 said, "Thank God thank God, twas 
 
 but a dream!" 
 
 July 24th, 1885, 
 
 no 
 
3 Arrant almost 
 
 I watched beside my darling s couch, 
 Thro days and nights of anxious pain; 
 
 Aly soul then knew but one desire 
 To see him well and strong again. 
 
 The form I thought so beautiful, 
 And perfect in its manly grace, 
 
 Was stricken like a lovely flower, 
 
 \\ Inch fades and dies before our face. 
 
 The scorching hand of burning heat, 
 Which fever laid upon his brow, 
 
 Seemed drinking up his sweet young life, 
 While love and care seemed worthless 
 now. 
 
 I kissed the dry and parched lips 
 Which late responded to mine own; 
 
 I called his name, but when he spoke 
 Twas in delirium s wild tone. 
 
 The dearest hands I ever held, 
 Lay hot within my tender clasp; 
 
 It almost killed me then to think 
 They never would return the grasp. 
 
 And in my agony I thought, 
 
 "O, is my dream to be fulfilled? 
 
 Is this loved form to leave my sight, 
 This heart to be forever stilled?" 
 
 I listen now to hear it beat 
 I hold my breath in deadly fear; 
 
 And when he speaks my name it is 
 The music that I long to hear. 
 
 m 
 
I know I wearied heaven with prayers, 
 To raise my darling up once more; 
 
 I never knew what depths of love 
 Lay in my soul s exhaustless store. 
 
 And when I saw the light return, 
 
 To those dark eyes so dear to me 
 lt seemed my heart could scarce contain 
 Joy s fullness and intensity. 
 
 Whene er I knelt at twilight hour, 
 And every moment thro the day 
 
 My soul goes up in silent praise 
 And thankfulness in all I pray. 
 
 And if this precious life was spared 
 In answer to my fervent prayer, 
 
 I still will trust that God will keep 
 Him in His love and tender care. 
 
 O, well I may rejoice, for what 
 
 Would life have been without my love? 
 
 And in my joy I ll not forget 
 
 To thank the Gracious Powers Above: 
 
 August 22nd, 1885. 
 
 112 
 
In the valley, dark with shadows, 
 Where the silent angel treads 
 
 I have seen a loved one linger, 
 
 In the gloom his presence spreads. 
 
 And I thought that death was calling 
 
 Ah, I know he waited there, 
 While my broken spirit murmured 
 
 Ever one untiring prayer. 
 
 "If it be Thy will, oh Father, 
 Give me back this precious life." 
 
 Heart and soul were torn and bleeding 
 In the agonizing strife. 
 
 Oh, the anguish of that season, 
 When for days I feared the worst! 
 
 While the mournful nights seemed endless 
 Hope, I neither could nor durst. 
 
 Then I asked God s faithful children, 
 For their earnest, fervent prayers; 
 
 For twas not in vain He answered, 
 And in love that life He spares. 
 
 Let me never more be doubtful, 
 Of the love of one dear Friend, 
 
 Which will last thro life s sad changes. 
 Blessing me unto the end. 
 
 And my thankful heart in meekness, 
 Bows beneath its weight of joy; 
 
 When I feel the warm sweet kisses, 
 Of my little dark-eyed boy. 
 
 "3 
 
When I hold him to my bosom, 
 In the gladness of my love, 
 
 Never do I cease to whisper, 
 Praises to that Friend above. 
 
 114 
 
I seem to see your sad dark eyes 
 Still looking up to mine, dear Nell, 
 
 And ever in mine ear there rings 
 That cruel word, "Farewell." 
 
 I knew that I would miss you, dear, 
 And lonely days must come and go, 
 
 Yet still I did not think my heart 
 Would feel such heavy woe. 
 
 But I can bear whatever loss 
 Brings to thy life a brighter day; 
 
 And o er thy path the star of hope 
 Shines with resplendent ray. 
 
 I would not "call thee back again," 
 For fortune smiles upon thee now, 
 
 And holds a wreath of beauty rare, 
 To crown thy pure young brow. 
 
 And while I know that it is well 
 With you, I will not feel regret; 
 
 But though you roam a distant land, 
 My heart is with you yet. 
 
 And if the parting be for years, 
 
 Xor time, nor fate can change my heart, 
 E en though a stern relentless hand 
 
 Should bid us dwell apart. 
 
 And if the time should ever come, 
 When I can show my earnest love, 
 
 O come to me with perfect trust, 
 And 1 will faithful prove. 
 
 April 14th, 1886. 
 
 "5 
 
Clause 
 
 Like a ray of golden sunlight, 
 Glancing o er a shadowed way, 
 
 Came my little Claude to brighten, 
 Every moment of the day. 
 
 Streamlets dancing thro the woodland. 
 Laughing in their merry glee 
 
 Seem not gayer than the music 
 Of your joyous laugh, to me. 
 
 And the spring-time skies that glisten, 
 With a beauty sweet and rare 
 
 Are not bright as smiles once playing 
 O er a face so dear and fair. 
 
 Oft I listen for thy footstep, 
 Thinking that it must be near; 
 
 And the voice that cheered my spirit, 
 In soft melody I hear. 
 
 But the beautiful illusion, 
 
 Fades and leaves me still alone, 
 
 Dreaming of the happy hours, 
 Which beyond recall, have flown. 
 
 Still tis pleasant to remember, 
 
 That you came for one short w r hile. 
 
 And I cherish tender mem ries, 
 Of your sweet and sunny smile. 
 
 May 15th, 1886. 
 
 116 
 
$)nnorir0 of 
 
 Sweet mem ries of long buried years 
 
 Throng round me with voices of old, 
 And bring back the days of the past, 
 
 When life seemed no sadness to hold. 
 I stray through the scenes of my youth, 
 
 And linger mid loved ones again 
 Around the bright hearth-stone at eve, 
 
 When laughter was gay with mirth s 
 
 strain. 
 How happy the days that we spent 
 
 Out at the old farm long ago! 
 The old fashioned house was so queer, 
 
 But oh! twas the dearest I know. 
 We played through the long sunny hours 
 
 Beneath the great oaks at the door, 
 And fanciful houses we built; 
 
 Such structures were ne er reared before. 
 We roamed through the fields at our will, 
 
 As gay as the birds on the boughs 
 And skipped o er the meadows so green 
 
 Where loved the meek cattle to browse. 
 Dear grandpa would help us to find 
 
 The peaches that yellowest grew, 
 And search with us children the trees 
 
 \\ here red apples hid from our view. 
 And oft where the strawberries glowed, 
 
 We d hie with our baskets to fill, 
 And when one had found a rare prize, 
 
 A shriek would break forth, loud and 
 
 shrill. 
 And oh, was there ever such cream 
 
 As grandmother had in those days! 
 
 117 
 
And oh, were there ever such wolves 
 
 As we, with our ravenous ways! 
 But then there was naught to compare 
 In all the wide world, with the charm 
 Of grandma s good things, which we found 
 
 In those happy days at the farm! 
 There never was carriage so grand, 
 With horses so dashing and gay, 
 That could have seemed dear to us then, 
 
 As Fan, and the old rock-a-way. 
 How 1 oft on a bright Saturday 
 
 It stood at our door, while we all 
 Made ready to go to the farm 
 
 To stay over Sunday. How small 
 Seem life s joys compared with those days 
 
 When hearts were so joyous and free; 
 No thought of a sorrow to come, 
 E er ruffled youth s tranquility. 
 How scattered the dear ones who met 
 
 In days that were sunny and fair; 
 Dear grandfather died long ago, 
 
 And changed are the places so rare. 
 He who was companion and friend, 
 
 And playfellow all; when he crossed 
 The river whence none come again 
 
 We grieved for the loved and the lost. 
 But still we had grandmama left; 
 
 And dear were the times when she came 
 To visit us in our own homes, 
 
 And ever we found her the same. 
 We sat at her feet while she told 
 
 Strange tales of the long, long ago; 
 When she was a girl in her "teens," 
 
 And grandpa her handsome, best beau. 
 The dress that she wore made us laugh, 
 To hear of its scant skirt and waist 
 118 
 
Just under the arms; and how queer 
 
 The hat that her auburn hair graced. 
 Ah, days that were free from all care! 
 
 Bright hours that can come not again. 
 Sweet mem ries of summers long fled, 
 
 Bring sighs that are sighed but in vain. 
 Dear grandma we ll never more greet 
 
 This side of the City of God; 
 For she, too, in silence now sleeps, 
 
 With hands folded under the sod. 
 But while we in sadness are waiting 
 
 The angel to carry us o er. 
 We know she is happy with loved ones 
 
 Who reached the fair heaven before. 
 When life s stormy day is declining, 
 
 And gleams the soft light of the eve 
 W r e ll look for a rest from our labors, 
 
 In realms where we never shall grieve; 
 \Yhere hands that we kissed in their cold 
 ness, 
 
 That gave back no token of love 
 Will stretch forth to meet us in heaven, 
 
 And fondly love s tenderness prove. 
 We wait by the river, dear loved ones, 
 
 And watch for a glorious ray; 
 W T e bear the rude blast of the tempest, 
 
 In hope of a fair summer day. 
 
 March 1st, 1889. 
 
 IIQ 
 
to tlje 
 
 When fortune frowns and friends desert, 
 
 And all thy hopes decay, 
 There is a heart still true a face 
 
 That will not turn away. 
 The mother s fond and trusting love 
 
 Will live through cold neglect; 
 And ne er a thought of a return 
 
 Its service doth direct. 
 
 She never asks, "Is it a waste 
 
 To give so much, and get 
 So small a portion back?" nor feels 
 
 One shadow of regret, 
 For years of long devotion given 
 
 To an unworthy child; 
 But deems it still a joy to love 
 
 Her o\vn, e en though defiled. 
 
 O, who would wound a heart so true, 
 
 And send a throb of pain 
 To one who d sooner die than give 
 
 One sorrow back again? 
 The pure unsullied love that lasts 
 
 As long as one heart-beat 
 Lives in the breast, that aye would shield 
 
 From ills that we must meet. 
 
 So ready e er to hide the faults 
 
 Which vex our other friends: 
 So quick to see and prize the good 
 
 That in our nature blends. 
 A love unselfish, pure and sweet, 
 
 As holy angels feel 
 For erring mortals here below 
 
 For aye, through woe or weal. 
 
 March 12th, 1890. 
 
 120 
 
a SDrar %>i&ttt 
 
 A vision arises before me, 
 
 A beautiful vision of thee; 
 I see every line of thy figure, 
 
 Its grace, and its fair symmetry. 
 
 I think of thee now as I saw thee, 
 
 On that winter day long ago; 
 Your smile was as bright as the sunbeams, 
 
 That danced on the glistening snow. 
 
 do you recall how I wept, dear, 
 When saying good-bye to you here? 
 
 My heart was like lead in my bosom, 
 With saddest foreboding and fear. 
 
 And darling, tis long since you left me, 
 \Vith promises soon to return; 
 
 The future seemed brilliant before you, 
 Our eyes could no shadow discern. 
 
 Ah, why did I weep? Was it something 
 Which told me of dark days to come? 
 
 1 think of thee now as I saw thee, 
 
 When last you went out from my home. 
 
 I know that your dear, patient spirit, 
 
 Hath bowed ncath the chastening rod, 
 
 And suffered unmurmuring, resting 
 Thy faith on the love of thy God. 
 
 One wish stirs my heart s deepest longing, 
 It is my one prayer day and night; 
 
 To see thee again, as I saw thee, 
 So beautiful, radiant and bright. 
 
 121 
 
jfatljer ana s 
 
 For this being of mine, I would thank you; 
 For the heart, and the brain, that are 
 
 yours. 
 For the light in my eyes, and the blood in 
 
 my veins, 
 
 And the spirit that ever endures. 
 For the love that you gave me, unmeasured, 
 And the dear guiding hand that re 
 strained, 
 And shielded in hours of danger and need; 
 
 In trial this shelter remained. 
 For your smiles in the morning, unfailing, 
 
 Your kiss at the evening s still hour; 
 The tears and the songs and the blessings 
 
 you gave, 
 
 That helped to make life s golden dower. 
 For the faith you had in me I thank you; 
 For your hope and your trust and your 
 
 pride; 
 For your praise and your blame and your 
 
 infinite care 
 
 And the honor you taught me beside. 
 But oh, dearest Mother, forgive me, 
 
 For the fears and the dreads and alarms. 
 That my waywardness caused you, sweet 
 
 angel, 
 When your life would have spared me all 
 
 harm. 
 For the times that I hurt you, forgive me; 
 
 For the sighs and the sobs that I wrung 
 From your soul in its peril of bitterest pain, 
 When your breath in the balance was 
 flung. 
 
 122 
 
My Father, forgive for your lessons, 
 
 And councels unheeded by me; 
 While your life s holiness and your walk close 
 to God, 
 
 My selfishness oft-failed to see. 
 Is it you, oh beloved angel Mother, 
 
 Who come like the dew of the eve, 
 And breathe on my spirit soft whispers of 
 calm, 
 
 A kiss on my brow do you leave? 
 The light in your eyes, blue and tender, 
 
 Is with me, wherever I go. 
 And your pure, perfect spirit, so close to 
 my side, 
 
 Will stay while my life s currents flow. 
 In Heaven, my dear, sainted Father, 
 
 I feel that you pray for me still; 
 O, may the Redeemer grant you in His love, 
 
 Your wishes for me to fulfill. 
 Sweet spirits, so high and so holy, 
 
 Yet ever so close to your child, 
 That our souls seem to blend in that region 
 of peace, 
 
 Where our beings are never defiled. 
 O, hearts that are truest and dearest, 
 
 At last you can see with clear eye, 
 And know my desire is to walk as you led, 
 
 Up the steeps that are rugged and high. 
 Nor death, nor decay, nor sad changes, 
 
 Can e er from rny spirit remove, 
 The things that are real, enduring for aye, 
 
 I still have your beautiful love. 
 The love that uplifts and ennobles, 
 
 And opens the path to the skies; 
 Rejoice heart of mine, for unfailing the joy 
 
 Of this, dearest of life s mysteries. 
 
 123 
 
V 
 MORAL AND RELIGIOUS 
 
Cljeer 
 
 keep from me the sullen brow, 
 The cold or frowning eye; 
 
 It makes me feel a nameless gloom, 
 As tempests o er the sky. 
 
 1 ever shun the churlish heart, 
 That never can be glad 
 
 Or will not it is all the same, 
 Their presence makes me sad. 
 
 What is the use to be cast down, 
 
 Or fret, or pout, or whine, 
 The ills that sometimes cross thy path, 
 
 Vex other hearts than thine. 
 
 Like rays of purest golden light, 
 
 Are cheerful souls to me, 
 Their pleasant words and smiling eyes, 
 
 Bid gloom and sadness flee. 
 
 Like flowers along the rough wayside, 
 Are friends that come with cheer, 
 
 Their very names will warm the heart, 
 Before their forms appear. 
 
 Like beacons o er a stormy sea, 
 
 The happy faces come; 
 We think of them, and long for them, 
 
 When clouds of sorrow loom. 
 
 Like stars in deepest midnight skies, 
 
 The merry spirits bring 
 A subtle charm which wooes the soul, 
 
 Away on lightsome wing. 
 
 127 
 
Like spring-birds in the dreary hours, 
 Are kind and pleasant words; 
 
 They fill the heart with silent joy, 
 As sweet as sweetest birds. 
 
 March 12th, 1884. 
 
 after 
 
 After weary years of waiting 
 For a pleasant, peaceful time, 
 
 We shall find it over yonder, 
 In that ever sunny clime. 
 
 After many a pain and heartache, 
 Over joys that fade and die, 
 
 We shall find them brighter, purer, 
 In that home beyond the sky. 
 
 After fate s cold hand hath blighted 
 Every flower in Hope s fair crown, 
 
 We shall walk thro Eden s bowers, 
 Where the sweetest buds are blown. 
 
 After cruel partings sever 
 
 Hearts that loved each other well, 
 They shall meet to love forever, 
 
 In a rapture none can tell. 
 
 January 27th, 1885. 
 
 128 
 
^tne for 
 
 No wine for me! No not one drop; 
 
 I know full well the curse it brings, 
 s Tis pleasant to the taste, but oh, 
 
 It leaves a thousand deathless stings. 
 
 I ve vowed to shun its flashing glow, 
 Nor ever once that nectar sip, 
 
 Which lures the noblest youth to death, 
 And turns to wormwood on the lip. 
 
 O, I could tell a tale of woe, 
 
 So fearful it would make you weep; 
 
 The mem ry of those darksome hours, 
 Will help my heart its vow to keep. 
 
 My father once stood proud and high, 
 He sunk his honor in the glass; 
 
 Our happy home was swept away, 
 My mother wept as days would pass. 
 
 The wife and boy once dearly loved, 
 Were left alone from day to day, 
 
 And many a time we had no bread, 
 Or fire, to keep the cold away. 
 
 How often thro the long, long night, 
 She held me clasped close to her breast; 
 
 She took the shawl from her thin form, 
 And tried to soothe her boy to rest. 
 
 I felt her hot tears on my brow, 
 I heard her agonizing prayer, 
 That God would shield her boy s young life, 
 From that which brought such sorrow 
 there. 
 
 129 
 
My father died a death of shame; 
 
 The drunkard s sad untimely end 
 O ertook him on that downward path, 
 
 Whose pleasures swift to ruin tend. 
 
 My gentle mother drooped and died, 
 She was too frail to struggle on; 
 
 Her heart was broken, hope was dead, 
 And I was left alone, alone. 
 
 Tis years since then, but oh, my friends, 
 Can I forget what cursed my life? 
 
 My father s fall, my mother s woe, 
 Are mcm ries cut with sorrow s knife. 
 
 And till this heart shall cease to throb, 
 And every pulse forget to beat, 
 
 No wine for me shall be my vow, 
 No wine for me my lips repeat . 
 
 June 5th, 1884. 
 
 130 
 
15r Content 
 
 What is the use to fret and murmur, 
 For gold or pain or earthly store? 
 
 Which never fill the heart s deep yearning, 
 But only make us worry more. 
 
 The humblest lot may have its pleasures, 
 
 If we but keep a quiet mind, 
 And cheerfully perform each duty, 
 
 A happiness we ll surely find. 
 
 Xot slothful to improve the talent, 
 God gave us to use and increase; 
 
 For each one hath his separate mission, 
 And filling that he shall have peace. 
 
 The earth is beautiful, my brother, 
 And full of joys we need not buy; 
 
 If we but only cease to murmur, 
 And be content the ills will fly. 
 
 For many cares are but imagined, 
 And not the woes they seem to be; 
 
 Then brace thy heart to stem the current, 
 For oft thou lt find a peaceful sea. 
 
 The journey is not always stormy 
 The tempest makes us prize the calm; 
 
 And struggling by the rocks and breakers, 
 We soon shall reach the isles of balm. 
 
 Oft-time we give way to repining, 
 
 Forgetful of the joys we hold, 
 And which our hearts would never barter, 
 
 For wealth of gems or purest gold. 
 
Health, strength and loved ones, who re 
 quite us 
 
 Affection full and free for ours; 
 Then be content while these are left thee, 
 
 And prize the happy, golden hours. 
 
 September 4th, 1884. 
 
 jframe" 
 
 It may seem strange to us, that One 
 So good and pure as God above, 
 
 Could look on any creature here, 
 With one degree of love. 
 
 Our thoughts and actions poor and mean, 
 And all unworthy of His smile; 
 
 The best impulses of our hearts, 
 Sin s taint doth oft defile. 
 
 When evening s shadows close around, 
 We see the day just left behind 
 
 Filled with sad failures and mistakes, 
 While tears repentant blind. 
 
 Yet in our sorrow s bitter depths, 
 The saddest soul His word can trust, 
 
 And hope that He remembers still, 
 "That we are only dust." 
 
 January 25th, 1888. 
 
 132 
 
115e fttna 
 
 Be kind to one another; 
 
 It may not be for long 
 Tomorrow you may sit alone, 
 
 And miss the gladsome song. 
 
 Be true to one another, 
 
 Grieve not the trusting heart 
 O think how soon Death s hand may tear 
 
 The closest links apart! 
 
 O let the love you cherish 
 
 Be breathed in every word 
 
 It fills the heart with melody, 
 And thrills its sweetest chord. 
 
 How brief the balmy season, 
 
 Fair summer fades in gloom! 
 The best beloved may leave your sight, 
 
 And find an early tomb. 
 
 The unkind words you utter, 
 
 May break your heart some day, 
 
 When you recall the look of pain 
 In dear eyes past away. 
 
 October 30th, 1885. 
 
 133 
 
Care 
 
 It is our fate to be misunderstood, 
 
 And blamed for that in which we had no 
 
 share; 
 But while Heaven sees the heart and judges 
 
 right, 
 Why should we care? 
 
 How oft our kindest acts go unrepaid 
 With aught but ill; but we e en this must 
 
 bear; 
 But while our conscience quits us of all 
 
 wrong, 
 Why should we care? 
 
 Why should we mind the trifling things of 
 
 life, 
 Which soon are past behind the hills of 
 
 Time 
 To come no more? Above these cares we 
 
 see 
 A fairer clime. 
 
 A land whose melody is never marred 
 
 By one harsh note upon the fragrant air. 
 
 These scenes will flee heaven s glories last 
 
 for aye, 
 Why should we care? 
 
 May 20th, 1887. 
 
 134 
 
of <SooD Cfteer 
 
 There never was a heart so overburdened 
 With sorrow, that God could not send the 
 
 balm; 
 Nor ocean tempest-tossed that would not 
 
 settle 
 At One s soft whisper, to a peaceful calm. 
 
 No wound can rankle with a smart so bitter, 
 That time s light touch will not the pain 
 
 allay; 
 And though the sunbeams hide behind the 
 
 hill-tops, 
 The night will usher in a joyous day. 
 
 We cannot cast aside the trials sent us 
 
 By heaven, to purify our souls from dross; 
 But when we ask, with meek and lowly 
 
 spirit, 
 
 Our Saviour helps each one to bear his 
 cross. 
 
 And with a heart that shows with love for 
 
 Jesus, 
 We can endure the pain, for His dear 
 
 sake; 
 And feel that every grief but draws us 
 
 nearer, 
 
 While tender chords within our bosoms 
 wake. 
 
 And then we must not nurse our woes for 
 ever, 
 
 Nor fret o er trifles in life s fleeting day; 
 But with a brave, bright spirit look to 
 
 heaven, 
 To guide us safely through the misty way. 
 
 135 
 
OTljen t\)t 
 
 When the shadows vanish 
 From our earthly sky, 
 
 We shall know the "reason," 
 We shall see the "why." 
 
 Why the pain and heart-ache, 
 Why the toil and care, 
 
 If we bear our burden, 
 We shall know up there. 
 
 Oft when heavy sorrow 
 Bears the spirit down, 
 
 We forget the promise 
 Of the golden crown. 
 
 God has only told us, 
 
 "It is better so," 
 While we love and trust Him, 
 
 Thro the vale below. 
 
 Hopes that soar beyond us, 
 O er life s stormy sea, 
 
 We shall hold forever, 
 When the shadows flee. 
 
 November 22nd, 1883. 
 
 136 
 
Grace for today, my Father, 
 
 Is what I ask of Thee; 
 Tomorrow with its grief or pain 
 
 May never come to me. 
 
 Strength for this day and hour, 
 
 grant me from on high, 
 
 And let me feel each moment here, 
 That Thou, my God, art nigh. 
 
 Help for today, oh Father! 
 
 1 know the present pain 
 
 Will vanish with the hours that go, 
 And never come again. 
 
 So if Thou help me daily, 
 
 To conquer present foes; 
 I ll brave each ill, nor faintly dread 
 
 Imaginary woes. 
 
 Today will soon be over, 
 
 I ask for strength this hour, 
 
 Life s deep temptations crowd my way; 
 Give me of Thy great power. 
 
 Help me to keep harsh language 
 
 From lips too prone to err, 
 And may my deeds be ever kind, 
 
 As Thine, my Saviour, were. 
 
 O let me speak some comfort, 
 
 To cheer the heart in grief; 
 And may my hand be ever free, 
 
 To minister relief. 
 
 137 
 
Strength for today, oh Father! 
 
 Tomorrow may not come; 
 My heart may then be resting low, 
 
 Within its silent home. 
 
 February 7th, 1884. 
 
 {[Untrue 
 
 How pleasant tis to think of friends 
 Who wait upon the further shore, 
 
 Where love is deathless as the light, 
 And hearts are true forever more. 
 
 When nearest ties are rent apart 
 
 Life s fondest dreams in darkness fade- 
 
 The wounded heart still looks for peace 
 In regions bright without a shade. 
 
 How oft some beauteous flower we cull, 
 But all unseen, some hidden thorn, 
 
 Will sting beneath its perfect leaves, 
 Ere yet its loveliness is worn. 
 
 No thing of earth, however fair, 
 
 Is free from change, or blot, or rust; 
 
 And only Heaven holds the joys 
 
 That human hearts may safely trust. 
 
Something- tells me of a land 
 Fairer than the brightest day, 
 
 That can ever dawn on earth 
 In that region far away. 
 
 Something tells me I shall see 
 Things more beautiful by far, 
 
 Than the purest gems of earth, 
 Or the fairest evening star. 
 
 Something tells me I shall hear 
 Melodies so full and deep 
 
 That my soul in bliss divine 
 
 In that thrilling wave may steep, 
 
 Something tells me I shall rest, 
 On the shore of living light, 
 
 Fanned by breezes from those hills, 
 That have never known a night. 
 
 Something tells me I shall know 
 All the hidden mysteries, 
 
 That perplex my spirit here 
 I shall know beyond the skies. 
 
 Something tells me that up there 
 I shall know zc/iy it was best 
 
 That my darling must be torn 
 From my loving, faithful breast. 
 
 Something tells me, in that land 
 \\ here all pain and care is o er, 
 
 On that fair and peaceful strand, 
 We shall meet to part no more. 
 
 Jvne 28th, 1884. 
 
 139 
 
n 
 
 When the sky is clear and bright, 
 Thank God for the welcome light; 
 Or if darkest tempests lower, 
 Look to him in sorrow T s hour. 
 
 When the heart with pleasure beats, 
 And each day some joy repeats, 
 Oh, how oft we do forget, 
 That His Hand sustains us yet. 
 
 But when Grief s stern tread is nigh, 
 We must to that refuge fly, 
 Which alone can shield from harm, 
 Soothe and quiet each alarm. 
 
 For we know His competence, 
 To protect from pestilence; 
 And without His tender care, 
 We could not escape the snare. 
 
 So, my Father, let me be, 
 In all things, resigned to Thee; 
 And in hours of joy or woe, 
 Trust Thee still, where e er I go. 
 
 August 16th, 1884. 
 
 140 
 
Hffugr 
 
 When the storms shall darkly gather, 
 
 O er thy heart, on sorrow s sea; 
 And thy barque is madly tossing, 
 
 While no harbor thou dost see, 
 Then what joy doth fill thy spirit, 
 
 While that gentle voice repeats 
 "Fear thou not, for I am with thee," 
 
 And the wildest wave retreats. 
 
 When thy cross lies heavy on thee, 
 
 And thy heart is sinking low 
 Jesus walks beside thee, ever, 
 
 And will wipe thy tears that flow. 
 And He speaks in loving whispers 
 
 "I have borne a cross for thee, 
 If ye love me, follow after, 
 
 And my joy ye soon shall see." 
 
 O, my Saviour, let me ever, 
 
 Trust Thee thro life s grief and pain, 
 For I know that Thou wilt never 
 
 Let me cry to Thee in vain. 
 And a peace pervades my spirit, 
 
 While I know Thou art with me, 
 And where storms no more shall gather. 
 
 I shall rest so sweet with Thee. 
 
 August 29th, 1884. 
 
 141 
 
Wt >l)aU 2$m again 
 
 In the realms of glory, 
 
 Where no grief can come, 
 And the Day is Golden, 
 
 She has found a home. 
 Where no shade can ever 
 
 Darken her fair brow, 
 By the shining river, 
 
 She is happy now. 
 
 But my heart is lonely. 
 
 And I miss her so; 
 Can I live without her, 
 
 All my life below? 
 Oh, my Father help me! 
 
 She was very dear; 
 Let me feel, oh Father, 
 
 That she still is near. 
 
 Let her spirit guide me, 
 
 Through life s changing scene.. 
 And her love surround me, 
 
 Like a charm between. 
 And when dark temptations 
 
 In weak hours assail, 
 If I feel her presence, 
 
 I shall never fail. 
 
 And I know that sometime, 
 
 I shall meet her there, 
 Where are many loved ones, 
 
 In that home so fair. 
 When life s tide shall bear me 
 
 Toward the golden main, 
 Twill be heavenly rapture, 
 
 To think we ll meet again. 
 
 September 29th, 1884. 
 142 
 
Believe that no shadow will linger 
 For long, on the heart of the pure; 
 
 God sends Grief with dark, heavy finger 
 To teach us to trust and endure. 
 
 Believe that a sunny tomorrow 
 Is brighter for clouds of today; 
 
 Then look through thy tears and thy sorrow 
 For joy even now on its 
 
 Believe that no matter how dreary, 
 The weather will change by and by; 
 
 Then hope through the days that are weary, 
 And wait for a beautiful sky. 
 
 As sure as the flowers awaken, 
 
 To greet the first smile of the spring 
 
 The sad heart that once felt forsaken, 
 Will sometime in happiness sing. 
 
 Believe that no loss of earth s treasures, 
 Is worth grieving over for aye; 
 
 O, look for the pure, fadeless pleasures, 
 That never will vanish away. 
 
 May 8th, 1886. 
 
 143 
 
anti 
 
 I ponder over in my meditations, 
 
 The words, late spoken, by a friend in 
 
 grief; 
 Death came and took the best-beloved, and 
 
 changes 
 Almost as sad, brought to him this belief: 
 
 "It is not best to place thy heart s affections 
 On any one thing; for if harm should fall 
 
 To that dear object, life for thee is blighted, 
 And sorrow shrouds thy heart with heavy 
 pall." 
 
 Tis well to prize the good our Father 
 
 scatters, 
 With kind and tender Hand about life s 
 
 road; 
 But ever keep in mind that change must 
 
 meet us 
 Until we reach the Beautiful Abode. 
 
 There is no day so bright that storms may- 
 gather, 
 
 And veil the splendor of its fairest sun; 
 No flower of hope so sweet, but fate may 
 
 scatter 
 Its petals to the blast, so drear and dun. 
 
 There is no friend so true but in some hour 
 A subtle spell will breathe a silent 
 
 change; 
 The unseen power which brings joy for a 
 
 season, 
 
 Will turn about, and fondest hearts 
 estrange. 
 
 144 
 
Yes "mortal life is full of loss and changes." 
 Yet still \ve need not be sad or cast 
 
 down; 
 
 For God has willed it so, that we may ever 
 Look upward to the bright and starry 
 cro\vn. 
 
 May 20th, 1886. 
 
 iltgtjt 
 
 When life s pathway is illumined 
 With the light of pleasure s glare, 
 
 W r e forget the purer radiance 
 Of a clime more clear and fair. 
 
 And the glory of an Eden, 
 
 Where the star shine never pales, 
 
 Seems e en dim and distant, lying 
 Far beyond earth s sunny vales. 
 
 But the loving Friend who woos us 
 From a sinful world to Heaven, 
 
 With a kind hand veils the glamor 
 Of the joys that earth hath given. 
 
 When the shades close thick around us, 
 As we tread a lonely strand, 
 
 Ah, how gladly do we welcome 
 
 Hope s fair star from Heaven s land. 
 
 45 
 
Clings tE!jat Cannot Ii5e 
 
 Always longing looking, 
 Toward the farthest star, 
 
 Waiting for some joy ahead 
 Thus we mortals arc. 
 
 Something in the distance 
 Lures our earnest gaze; 
 
 And when it eludes our grasp, 
 Fairer charm displays. 
 
 Bright anticipations, 
 
 Shine across the gloom, 
 
 And the untrod paths seem strewn, 
 With a fadless bloom. 
 
 Ever building structures, 
 
 With our busy brain, 
 Far too great and grand to be 
 
 In life s real train. 
 
 And the joy that hovers 
 O er our path each day, 
 
 Is discarded, thrown aside, 
 For a brighter ray. 
 
 But the light that glimmers, 
 
 Of a day unborn, 
 May precede a night of woe. 
 
 And a joyless morn. 
 
 Why not hold the pleasures 
 
 Of today, the best, 
 Taking life as it shall come, 
 
 Let the future rest. 
 
 146 
 
And the things that tarry 
 Through a weary hour 
 
 Think that it is meant for good, 
 By the Higher Power! 
 
 Mav 29th, 1886. 
 
 J ftnoto 
 
 I know that a beautiful city 
 
 Is gleaming beyond this dark vale, 
 
 \\ "here happiness flows on forever, 
 Like rivers that never shall fail. 
 
 1 know that the world-weary spirit 
 Shall rest on that evergreen shore, 
 
 And bask in the sweet breath of Eden. 
 Which lulls the safe soul evermore. 
 
 1 know that forever and ever, 
 The joy of that city will last; 
 
 1 know we shall find a fair haven, 
 When life s stormy voyage is past. 
 
 H7 
 
fl 
 
 Father of love and tender care, 
 
 My heart I lift to thee; 
 O wilt thou hear my earnest prayer, 
 
 Though simple it may be? 
 
 O thou who once wast tempted here, 
 
 And tried almost too much, 
 Wilt thou in pity look on one, 
 
 Who craves thy healing touch? 
 
 My soul is sick e en unto death, 
 Of every secret sin; 
 
 cleanse me, save me, make me pure, 
 From every stain within. 
 
 It is so hard to walk aright, 
 
 And keep my eyes on thee; 
 A wooing voice forever calls 
 
 To death, and misery. 
 
 1 would hold firmly to thy hand,. 
 I would keep near thy side, 
 
 For then no harm could come to me 
 \Vhatever might betide. 
 
 The weakness which enthralls my heart, 
 
 I utterly despise; 
 To thee alone I look for grace, 
 
 And strength, to help me rise. 
 
 148 
 
<Ei)c Dinner ILtfe 
 
 Our actions may be fair to see 
 
 Above reproach that man can bring, 
 
 And still a foul blot stain the heart 
 From which those actions spring. 
 
 Our feet may tread the path of truth, 
 Far as the world can judge or say, 
 
 And while our friends look on and praise, 
 We yet may miss our way. 
 
 Tis sweet to hear the cheering words 
 Of all our fellow creatures here; 
 
 And when we strive to please, we prize 
 The world s opinion dear. 
 
 But oh, how transient is the gleam 
 Of all the honors earth can give, 
 
 And in the hour they brightest shine 
 They yet may cease to live. 
 
 But when the heart s intents are pure, 
 
 Tho oft in execution vile, 
 \Yhile struggling to amend the wrong, 
 
 We yet may meet God s smile. 
 
 And if we walk in lowly ways, 
 
 And fail to gain the praise of men 
 
 If God approves, and stands our Friend, 
 It does not matter then. 
 
 I4Q 
 
s 
 
 If our hearts could fathom 
 All the griefs ahead, 
 
 We would faint aforetime 
 With the fear and dread. 
 
 After days of sorrow 
 
 Fade into the past, 
 And a gleam of sunlight 
 
 O er our way is cast 
 
 Looking back, we wonder 
 Why we did not die; 
 
 But the strength was given 
 From the throne on high. 
 
 So in every burden 
 Falling to our share, 
 
 If we trust the Father, 
 He will help us bear. 
 
 "As thy day and trial, 
 Strength is given thee"; 
 
 Then be brave and hopeful; 
 Trust the good to see. 
 
 God, in love and wisdom, 
 Sends our hearts the pain, 
 
 Drawing us to Heaven, 
 And the richer gain. 
 
 150 
 
43 Wtil Wt Cannot ftncto 
 
 If we could lift the veil now intervening 
 And look adown the path our feet must 
 
 tread, 
 Our poor affrighted hearts would shrink and 
 
 tremble, 
 
 And sink beside the way with fear and 
 dread. 
 
 The thought of grief in store would steal 
 
 the brightness 
 
 From hours that bring a sweet delight to 
 day; 
 
 And many an added burden crush the spirit 
 If we beyond the future s mist might stray. 
 
 The Hand that holds life s grave events en 
 shrouded, 
 
 Is merciful beyond what we can feel; 
 So with no knowledge of a sad tomorrow, 
 
 Our hearts today enjoy the present weal. 
 
3Jf it be Best 
 
 If we would only be content 
 To leave it all with Him, 
 And trust and pray 
 Through all the way, 
 Though stars were few and dim, 
 
 How many a heartache would be spared, 
 How many a tear repressed, 
 
 If we would w r ait 
 
 Through darkest fate, 
 And feel our God knows best. 
 
 We cannot understand, or see 
 His purpose in each pain, 
 
 But He can bring 
 
 From each sad thing, 
 A lesson, not in vain. 
 
 No heart is ever desolate 
 
 While His dear arm sustains, 
 For every loss 
 And cruel cross 
 A recompense remains. 
 
 The earth and sea, and wealth of all, 
 And human hearts and lives, 
 
 Are His to take 
 
 Or mend or break, 
 And mercy still survives. 
 
 O trust, dear heart, and rest thee here, 
 For time will prove it true, 
 
 Though griefs descend, 
 
 And sorrows rend, 
 He gives what s best for you. 
 
 152 
 
ill Jot be Long 
 
 Thy heart is sad, I know, dear, 
 
 And life seems dark to thee, 
 While kneeling by the new made grave, 
 
 Of one, loved tenderly. 
 
 The unknown country, lying 
 
 Beyond thy longing gaze, 
 Seems but a shadow land to thee, 
 
 Enwrapt in misty haze. 
 
 But sure as time is fleeting, 
 Twill bring thee to thy home, 
 
 Where tired and weary feet no more 
 Earth s wilderness shall roam. 
 
 Twill not be long, remember, 
 
 Whatever griefs befall 
 A day of endless joy is thine, 
 
 Behind the jasper wall. 
 
 153 
 
VI 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
3nottjrr 
 
 In Memory of Little Henry Graham 
 
 Another lily gathered for the land of bloom 
 ing spring; 
 
 Another precious cherub with the angel 
 host to sing; 
 
 Our darling swells the chorus of the beau 
 tiful on high, 
 
 And treads the pleasant pathway of the 
 City of the sky. 
 
 How often, ah, how often do we have to 
 
 say it o er; 
 The one than life far dearer, now, can never 
 
 sorrow more; 
 Our lovely flower blossoms in a clime where 
 
 frosts can never fall; 
 And yet it seems our wounded hearts must 
 
 break e en after all. 
 
 How desolate the home that late his pres 
 ence glorified; 
 
 How lonely are the evenings now around 
 the fireside; 
 
 A little golden head no more rests on his 
 mother s breast, 
 
 And with a nameless woe a father s heart is 
 sore opprest. 
 
 An only child a beauteous boy the one 
 sweet hope and pride. 
 
 The sheen upon his shining hair like sun 
 light on the tide. 
 
 157 
 
And eyes of summer s deepest blue, when 
 
 skies are fair and clear; 
 No other eyes had ever been, or could be 
 
 half so dear. 
 
 Throughout the dreary hours I sit and 
 
 dream of days gone by, 
 And as the bright scenes rise to view I 
 
 breathe a bitter sigh; 
 While tear-drops steal adown my chetk, 
 
 which yet I cannot stay, 
 For ever more I feel the loss more sadly 
 
 day by day. 
 
 Last summer when the roses bloomed so 
 
 beautiful and bright, 
 The days I spent within his home were 
 
 filled with sweet delight; 
 The hours flew by on joyous wing, and in 
 
 our mirth and glee, 
 We romped amid the fragrant flowers and 
 
 chatted merrily. 
 
 The precious child was at my side; he loved 
 
 his "Auntie" so, 
 And I ah, many a time, I kissed his noble 
 
 brow of snow; 
 And \vith his cheek against my ow r n I held 
 
 him yet again, 
 Nor dreamed how soon my happy heart 
 
 would ache with cruel pain. 
 
 How swiftly sped my visit by; I left with 
 
 sad regret, 
 But still twas passing sweet to think how 
 
 pleasantly w r e met; 
 And now they tell me he is dead the boy 
 
 I loved so well; 
 The grief I feel is far too deep for any 
 
 words to tell. 
 
 158 
 
I think of that poor mother, as she sits with 
 
 empty arms, 
 Within a sorrow shrouded home, robbed of 
 
 its dearest charms; 
 Childless alone throughout the day she 
 
 lists in vain to hear 
 The ripple of a merry laugh, from baby lips 
 
 so dear. 
 
 The father coming in at night half hopes 
 
 to greet his boy, 
 As once in other days, when swelled a 
 
 parent s pride and joy; 
 The little chair seems once again to hold an 
 
 angel form; 
 O God; our loved one sleeps tonight out in 
 
 the winter storm. 
 
 Two years two brief and blissful years, he 
 
 lived to light earth s way, 
 With one bright gleam of beauty for our 
 
 grateful hearts each day. 
 We thanked the Father for his gift, but ah, 
 
 we had forgot, 
 It was but lent; the flower is gone and left 
 
 a barren spot. 
 
 When far from home, the summons reached 
 his father to return, 
 
 He sped in haste, and all the way his anx 
 ious heart did yearn 
 
 To see his child again; the illness might be 
 something grave; 
 
 And in his restless soul there was a long 
 ing, hungry crave. 
 
 "The boy! the boy," he cries, as on the 
 
 step his feet are prest; 
 What means the white and anguished look, 
 
 the countenance distrest? 
 
 59 
 
From one who ever welcomed him w th 
 
 smiles of beaming joy; 
 She leads the way, and there they kneel :o- 
 
 gether by the boy. 
 
 Pure as a snow flake, still and white, the 
 
 lips are silent now. 
 The golden curls rest lovingly upon ihe 
 
 marble brow; 
 The dimpled cheek is fairer e en than when 
 
 he saw it last, 
 And from the blue eyes closed, the light 
 
 forever more is past. 
 
 No tear steals down the blanching cheek 
 
 the heart is locked with woe; 
 It were relief if at this time the flood could 
 
 wildly flow. 
 Stunned and amazed, he looks upon his 
 
 child and tries to see 
 His way through labyrinths of grief as 
 
 bleak as midnight sea. 
 
 Again he sees the sweet lips part as in the 
 last farewell; 
 
 And hears the tender "Papa" which so mu 
 sically fell; 
 
 His soul is stirred with memories that rend 
 with keenest pain; 
 
 The rose-bud mouth will never move in 
 melody again. 
 
 How deep the shades that wrap our hearts 
 
 in night without a morn; 
 We miss him in the evening and the day is 
 
 all forlorn. 
 And ever in our spirits lives a voice that 
 
 murmurs o er: 
 "His dear, sweet face will never shine 
 
 across our pathway more." 
 
 1 60 
 
Yet ever in our sorrow do we struggle to 
 fulfil 
 
 Life s first and sternest duty to bow to 
 our Father s Will. 
 
 We ask His Hand to guide us, and His 
 grace to give us light 
 
 To reach our darling in that land so peace 
 ful and so bright. 
 
 161 
 
alien 31n ^emoriam 
 
 Dear boy, our hearts are deeply sad 
 To think thy proud form is no more; 
 
 Thy manly step and flashing eye, 
 Have past unto the silent shore. 
 
 Thy mother bends with anguished brow 
 Above her darling first-born son; 
 
 Her fond heart crushed with woe too great, 
 For human eye to look upon. 
 
 O, if God s Hand had laid thee low 
 If sickness or disease had come, 
 
 To call thee hence we would have wept 
 Less bitter tears o er this, thy doom. 
 
 But thus, to see thee snatched away, 
 By pistol shot, in one brief hour; 
 
 Our noble boy, so brave and strong, 
 To fall in manhood s opening flower! 
 
 Dear Allen, it is very hard 
 
 To give thee to the lonely tomb, 
 
 When two or three short days ago, 
 
 Thy cheek was bright with healthful 
 bloom. 
 
 Farewell! No heart can prize too much 
 The good which glads our life today, 
 
 Tomorrow may bring blight and death, 
 And sweetest hopes may fade away. 
 
 February 18th, 1885. 
 
 162 
 
3fin spemorp of Cornelia 
 
 Once more I am at home again, 
 And sad the weeks have been, 
 
 Which promised rest and happiness, 
 For death hath stepped between. 
 
 I cannot realize e en yet 
 
 That thou hast past away, 
 And I may no more look on thee, 
 
 Until the last great Day. 
 
 A few short weeks ago and thou 
 \Yast happy, in life s bloom, 
 
 But now upon the quiet hill 
 Thy form rests in the tomb. 
 
 Dear sister, if I could have known 
 That we should meet no more, 
 
 I never would have gone away 
 This thought comes o er and o er. 
 
 When day by day I watched beside 
 
 The couch of one I love, 
 And thought the Messenger had come 
 
 To bear his soul above, 
 
 It seemed my heavy heart could bear 
 
 No heavy blow again; 
 But when they told me you were dead, 
 
 I felt a deeper pain. 
 
 And when it seemed that he must die, 
 
 I thought in my despair: 
 If God will give me back my boy 
 
 Life ne er can have a care. 
 
 163 
 
And now we are at home again - 
 
 My darling almost well; 
 But there s a grief within my heart 
 
 Which time can never quell. 
 
 They tell me that she called for me 
 
 E en to the very last; 
 And in my breast one keen regret 
 
 Will live till life is past. 
 
 While many a mournful mile between 
 Kept me from her dear side, 
 
 My hand upon her burning brow 
 Was e en in death denied. 
 
 But oh, dear heart, tis sweet to think. 
 
 You loved me in that hour 
 And wanted me; some day we ll meet 
 
 Beyond Death s blighting power. 
 
 I wonder if on Eden s shore, 
 
 Amidst the angel band, 
 There is a face as fair as thine 
 
 In all that shining land. 
 
 You were as beautiful and bright 
 As summer s sweetest rose, 
 
 When sparkling with the pearly dew 
 Its fragrant leaves unclose. 
 
 Your lovely eyes were soft and deep. 
 
 And blue as June s own skies; 
 How many a heart hath felt the charm, 
 
 And thrilled neath those blue eyes. 
 
 The shining bands of chestnut hair 
 Waved from a snowy brow; 
 
 And crowned thy proud and regal head 
 With wealth a queen might show. 
 
 164 
 
O queenly head! O rare blue eyes! 
 
 O perfect, faultless face! 
 How sad to think the grave must be 
 
 For aye thy resting place! 
 
 The soft sad sigh of autumn winds 
 
 Seem murmuring thy name, 
 And thro the boughs above thy head 
 
 They chant thy requiem. 
 
 The changing leaves which fall around, 
 
 Remind me all must die; 
 It may be ere they bloom again, 
 
 Beneath them I shall lie. 
 
 The many friends who come to bid 
 
 Me welcome home again, 
 Remind me that one dear kind face, 
 
 My heart will seek in vain. 
 
 It is not home without thee, dear 
 
 The home which late I left, 
 For of thy cheering presence I 
 
 Am ever more bereft. 
 
 But oh, there is a deeper sigh 
 Than aught my bosom feels, 
 
 Beside a desolate fireside 
 A lonely husband kneels. 
 
 Three lovely children wait in vain 
 
 Thy kiss upon each brow, 
 And weep to miss the fond sweet words 
 
 From lips so silent now. 
 
 Beyond the golden sunset ray 
 
 Beyond the gates of light, 
 Her spirit rests in long sweet peace, 
 
 Where never falls the night. 
 
 165 
 
And while we walk in sadness here, 
 And bear our grief and pain, 
 
 We know that thou, beyond the gloon, 
 Wilt never weep again. 
 
 When life s sad partings all are o er, 
 
 And bitter tears are dried, 
 We ll meet in joy, and peace and love, 
 
 Upon the other side. 
 
 Farewell, my sister and my friend, 
 Farewell till life shall cease; 
 
 May Heaven guide me in the way, 
 To thee, and happiness. 
 
 September 18th, 1885. 
 
 166 
 
31n spemon? of Sinnit 
 
 O er the dreary fields and meadows, 
 
 Where the brown leaves scattered lie 
 Mournfully the bleak winds whisper: 
 
 "Everything on earth must die." 
 Spring with bloom and beauty lingered 
 
 But to charm us for awhile; 
 Ah, how soon she fled, and left us 
 
 Only memories of her smile! 
 Slimmer flowers flung out their sweetness 
 
 On the balmy winds of June, 
 And a thousand voices cheered us 
 
 While the glad heart was in tune. 
 But the blue, blue skies of summer 
 
 Could not last beyond their time, 
 And the autumn days were lovely 
 
 In this sunny, southern clime. 
 But the golden tinted splendors 
 
 Faded from each twig and bough, 
 And the wintry breath hath blighted 
 
 Roses that are withered now. 
 And the dull grey skies that hover 
 
 O er the hills of misty gloom, 
 Are as cheerless as my spirit, 
 
 Where each hope is in its tomb! 
 From the sad hours of the present, 
 
 Full of bitter grief for me, 
 Constantly my thoughts stray backward 
 
 To the days of joy and glee; 
 And I ask, "Oh, was it really 
 
 7 who once was light and gay, 
 Or can time with gentle fingers 
 
 Ever soothe my pain away?" 
 
 167 
 
Mournfully the bleak winds whisper, 
 
 And the naked branches wave; 
 While the wintry rain is falling, 
 
 On that far-off, new-made grave! 
 Fancy brings the joyous hours 
 
 Of my fair unclouded youth, 
 And I live again that season, 
 
 Which w r as sweet with love and truth. 
 What a merry band was ours! 
 
 Boys and girls with happy hearts 
 Warm and true as summer sunlight, 
 
 Knowing naught of sorrow s dart*.. 
 In the sweet June days we wandered, 
 
 Hand in hand, through shaded dells, 
 Searching for the wild flowers hiding 
 
 In the mossy nooks and fells. 
 And a little darling sister 
 
 Raised her brown eyes to mine own, 
 W T hile I stooped to lift her over 
 
 Fallen log, or craggy stone. 
 When the baby form grew weary, 
 
 And the tiny feet would rest 
 In my arms I carried Annie, 
 
 With her head upon my breast. 
 And her little hands would pull me 
 
 Down to meet her tender kiss, 
 While her gentle heart seemed happy 
 
 With a pure and perfect bliss. 
 And I loved her fondly, dearly, 
 
 For she was a winsome thing; 
 With her baby ways so cunning, 
 
 She around our hearts did cling. 
 Mother called her "Nut-brown maiden/ 
 
 For the dark tint of her face 
 Made her so unlike the others, 
 
 Full of love and beauteous grace. 
 
 1 68 
 
Brownie, elf, or fairy spirit, 
 
 She was every one s sweet pet, 
 And her large dark eyes so earnest, 
 
 I can never more forget. 
 Eyes that haunt me through the darkness, 
 
 Which surrounds my spirit so, 
 And they shine with love and gladness, 
 
 As in days of long ago. 
 Breaking heart, be still; thy darling 
 
 Sleeps beneath the winter rain; 
 And that precious head will never 
 
 Nestle on thy breast again! 
 O, my God, help me to struggle 
 
 With this bitter, bitter grief! 
 Death must still these throbbing pulses 
 
 If I cannot find relief! 
 Day by day I weep, recalling 
 
 Joys that are forever dead, 
 While it seems no star can ever 
 
 O er my life its radiance shed. 
 And the happy family circle 
 
 Nevermore will be complete; 
 For that loved and cherished sister, 
 
 Ah, we cannot hope to meet! 
 Well I mind one lovely summer 
 
 And the last I spent at home 
 With dear Annie, for she left it, 
 
 By another s side to roam. 
 But those blissful days will linger 
 
 With me till my life is o er, 
 And in dreams I see sweet Annie 
 
 Standing at the cottage door. 
 Let me if the tears permit me 
 
 Call that picture to mine eyes; 
 Surely ne er a blossom fairer 
 
 Bloomed beneath the azure skies. 
 
 169 
 
Sixteen happy summers rested 
 
 Lightly on that bright young head 
 Taller than the rest she charmed us 
 
 With her proud and queenly tread. 
 And her form of moulded beauty, 
 
 Perfect in each curve and line 
 Would have shamed the purest marble, 
 
 That a sculptor s dreams combine 
 On that brow so high and noble, 
 
 Beautiful beyond compare, 
 Where the brown curls softly clustered 
 
 Intellect \vas stamped, so rare, 
 And those eyes of dusky shadows, 
 
 Fringed with lashes long and black, 
 Gleamed like midnight splendors shining 
 
 From the heaven s starry track. 
 Deepest tints of health s bright roses 
 
 Glowed upon her olive cheek, 
 And the whitest pearls were hidden, 
 
 Till those ruby lips would speak. 
 And her voice w r as ever music 
 
 Half so full and clear and sweet? 
 When she sang entranced, bewildered, 
 
 All would own the charm complete. 
 In the fragrant summer evenings 
 
 She would sit for hours and play, 
 And our souls drank in the music, 
 
 Woke by hands that noiv are clay! 
 It would kill me now to listen 
 
 To the songs she used to sing; 
 Sweetly, sadly dear, they echo 
 
 Round me like some holy thing. 
 And 1 think the heavenly anthems 
 
 Must be sweeter for that voice, 
 For the angels surely taught her 
 
 Strains that made our hearts rejoice. 
 
 170 
 
I remember when we parted 
 
 At the old home far away, 
 \Yith her head upon my bosom, 
 
 How my darling wept that day! 
 And she said, between her sobbing, 
 
 "Sister, do not go away, 
 Stay with us a little longer; 
 
 We have been so happy, stay." 
 But the voice of duty called me 
 
 To my other, distant home, 
 And my pleasant visit ended, 
 
 ?Sow the parting hour had come. 
 Good-byes said mid tears and choking, 
 
 Heaving breast and aching heart, 
 And again I tread the pathway, 
 
 \Yhich hath borne our lives apart. 
 Mournfully the bleak winds whisper, 
 
 And the naked branches wave, 
 \\ hile the winter rain is falling, 
 
 On the far-off, new-made grave. 
 Night to me brings no refreshing, 
 
 On my restless couch I weep; 
 But her breast is calm and tranquil, 
 
 In that long and dreamless sleep. 
 Can it be, oh, Annie, loved one, 
 
 Thou art resting in the tomb 
 Nevermore to glad my vision, 
 
 With thy womanhood s fair bloom? 
 Beautiful and gifted sister 
 
 Talented as few have been; 
 In the halls of mirth and pleasure, 
 
 Annie reigned, a very queen. 
 O my heart yearns for my sister, 
 
 With a wild intensity, 
 While the storms beat down above her- 
 
 Can it be, oh, can it be? 
 
 171 
 
I have tried to crush my anguish, 
 
 Thinking of her blissful lot, 
 Free from suffering and sorrow, 
 
 Every pain and care forgot. 
 And I strive to thank the Father 
 
 For His dear and tender love, 
 Gathering our lovely flower, 
 
 For that fairer clime above. 
 On my knees I ask for guidance 
 
 Through this long and rayless night; 
 And may He who knows my sorrow, 
 
 Lead me safely to the right. 
 
 why can I not be patient, 
 Trusting that the time is near, 
 
 When my raptured eyes shall linger 
 
 On that angel form so dear! 
 If I could have knelt beside her 
 
 Ere her spirit took its flight- 
 Heard her once more whisper "Sister," 
 
 T would have brought my soul delight: 
 And I would have said, "My darling, 
 
 If in all our childhood years, 
 
 1 have ever spoke unkindly, 
 Bringing to those sweet eyes, tears; 
 
 O forgive, forgive me, loved one, 
 
 For you were so dear to me, 
 If I could have spared thee sorrow, 
 
 I d have died, ah, willingly!" 
 And I know my little sister 
 
 Would have spoken words so dear, 
 For the angels bending o er her 
 
 Filled her heart with gladsome cheer. 
 When the end was near approaching, 
 
 And her sun had almost set, 
 Taking from her hand a jewel: 
 
 "Mamma, you will not forget, 
 
 172 
 
Send this ring to Sister; tell her 
 
 That I loved her to the last, 
 And I hope we ll met in heaven, 
 
 When life s stormy day is past; 
 Papa do not let me see you 
 
 Grieve because I ll sing no more 
 On this earth I will be singing 
 
 Sweeter on that peaceful shore." 
 But that father loved his song-bird, 
 
 And he could not see her go, 
 Keeping back the tears now stealing 
 
 Down his cheek with steady flow. 
 Though she tried to give us comfort, 
 
 With her words so bright and sweet, 
 Loving hearts must break at parting 
 
 When they no more hope to meet. 
 But thank God a day is dawning, 
 
 When we ll have our own again! 
 In that land of light and beauty, 
 
 We shall feel no grief or pain, 
 From her bed of sad affliction 
 
 Which the Saviour helped her bear- 
 She hath passed to worlds of glory, 
 
 Where can come no breath of care. 
 "Jesus in my heart, dear mamma, 
 
 Keeps me in this trying hour," 
 Were her words, and shall we ever 
 
 Doubt His sweet protecting power? 
 "Mamma, I will be the angel 
 
 Ministering to you here, 
 And while I am, oh so happy 
 
 Do not let your life be drear." 
 Father, in Thy love and mercy, 
 
 Comfort hearts that pine and ache; 
 Let us feel Thine Arm sustaining 
 
 Comfort us, for Jesus sake. 
 December 7th, 1885. 
 173 
 
Ceaseless }jDam 
 
 Sweet Annie, two sad years have passei 
 
 away, 
 Since last I saw thy loved and cherished 
 
 face; 
 
 And on this fair spring evening, I remember 
 Thy tender look, and warm embrace. 
 
 O, darling, if I could have known that day, 
 When last your precious head lay on my 
 heart 
 
 That we should never meet again, my spir.t 
 Could not have borne its bitter part. 
 
 When first I knew that you were gone, I 
 
 thought 
 The grief too great my poor heart to 
 
 sustain; 
 And hoped as new days carne that Time 
 
 would soften 
 The smart of one relentless pain. 
 
 But azure skies and song-birds singing 
 
 sweet, 
 
 Cannot restore the joys I lost with thee; 
 And while bright Spring is tripping o er the 
 
 meadows, 
 I sigh for thee, yes, constantly. 
 
 April 10th, 1886. 
 
We miss our darling sorely day by day, 
 And never breathe her name without a 
 sigh; 
 
 And when at eventide we kneel to pray, 
 \Ye ask to meet her in the starry sky. 
 
 The mourning winds tell of a winter nigh, 
 Full soon to break the summer s mystic 
 
 spell; 
 The sweet birds with a low and plaintive 
 
 cry, 
 
 End the bright dream in murmurs of 
 farewell. 
 
 And surely as the golden hours will flee, 
 To sleep beneath the chill, and frost, and 
 
 gloom. 
 The hopes which gladdened happy hearts 
 
 will be 
 In dust and ashes never more to bloom. 
 
 And when a shadow steals between the 
 
 light, 
 
 \\ hile we in sorrow plod our weary way, 
 We love to think that in her home so bright 
 Our loved one shares the bliss of endless 
 Day. 
 
 No grief can touch her pure and sinless 
 
 breast; 
 
 No thorn can ever pierce her precious 
 feet; 
 
 175 
 
And in our Father s love her soul doth rest, 
 Where every fond, sweet dream is all 
 complete. 
 
 However much we loved her in this l.fe, 
 We could not shield her from its cruel 
 
 pain; 
 But there oh, there, no dark and bitter 
 
 strife, 
 Can bring a tear her lovely cheek to stain. 
 
 Our Father loved her, and shall we regret 
 Her entrance into everlasting bliss? 
 
 Ah, no! but loving hearts cannot forget, 
 Or cease to mourn for one they sadly 
 miss. 
 
 October 2, 1886,. 
 
 176 
 
lire 
 
 Thro blinding tears I see a beauteous form; 
 
 "So like a lily rare," and oh, how dear! 
 That gentle presence filled our home with 
 
 joy, 
 
 Her voice s low music charmed our lis 
 tening ear. 
 
 tiny fragile form, so fairy-like! 
 
 It breaks my heart to think, it is no more; 
 
 1 seem to hear her footstep tripping light, 
 To greet my coming, ere I reach the door. 
 
 I see once more her dear sweet face up 
 turned, 
 
 To meet a husband s passionate caress, 
 Dear little hands that cling about his neck, 
 And loving eyes, that look love s tender 
 ness. 
 
 A mother s idol, and a father s pride, 
 
 The sunlight of that home, so darkened 
 now, 
 
 O darling, may we never, never more, 
 Imprint one kiss upon your lovely brow? 
 
 O soft sweet eyes so beautiful and true! 
 O dear blue eyes that thrilled our souls 
 
 with joy! 
 How often when that sweet gaze met our 
 
 own, 
 
 We d feel that angels held thy heart s 
 employ. 
 
 177 
 
I love to think of those fair, peaceful years, 
 Ere thou hadst felt one breath of that 
 
 dark blight, 
 Which robbed thy young life of its rcsy 
 
 bloom, 
 
 And clothed our saddened hearts in deep 
 est night. 
 
 And those sweet years were not so long 
 
 ago; 
 Not two have passed since thou didst 
 
 droop and pale, 
 
 And like a broken lily s fading breath, 
 Thy gentle life past from this earthly 
 vale. 
 
 Sweet Rosa Lee! Thy guileless spirit leaves 
 An influence that will bless the years to 
 
 come; 
 
 We cannot feel that thou hast past away, 
 Thy presence seems to linger round our 
 home. 
 
 Thro weary years thy little son must miss 
 His mother s kiss upon his youthful 
 
 check, 
 
 The sweet "good-night," the whispered ten 
 der word, 
 
 Ah, never more that mother s lips may 
 speak. 
 
 But oh, can this be death, so beautiful! 
 I hold my breath and gaze in mute sur 
 prise; 
 
 Speak to me darling, for methinks I see, 
 The waxen lids lift from those wondrous 
 eyes. 
 
 178 
 
That marble brow is calm and peaceful 
 now, 
 
 No suffering can ever cloud it more; 
 I kiss the waves of softest flaxen hair, 
 
 And almost smile to think her pain is o er. 
 
 I lay my cheek against her bosom s snow, 
 And almost hear her heart beat once 
 again; 
 
 So lovely and so life-like! can it be, 
 
 That I shall listen for thy voice in vain? 
 
 precious hands, so pure, so white, so still! 
 That once met mine with clinging tender 
 
 touch; 
 
 But now so fair and cold! O help me God, 
 To live without the one I loved so much! 
 
 "My hope is bright, my trust is strong," she 
 
 said, 
 
 "For Jesus walks beside me thro the 
 wave, 
 
 1 know he will not leave me in this hour, 
 For His dear arm is powerful to save." 
 
 "O do not weep to see me pass away, 
 For it is sweet to lay the burden down; 
 
 But meet me in that home of peace and rest, 
 Where weary spirits wear a robe and 
 crown." 
 
 And thus our darling passed beyond the 
 
 gates 
 
 Of golden light, to mansions of the sky; 
 The soul too pure for earth has winged its 
 
 flight, 
 To regions of the glorified on high. 
 
 179 
 
A lily gathered for that fairer clime, 
 
 A lovely flower to bloom in Eden s 
 
 bowers; 
 
 O would we call her back to earth again ; 
 From her sweet home, to bless and 
 brighten ours? 
 
 O Father strengthen hearts so sorely tried, 
 
 And purify our love from all earth-taint, 
 
 O give us grace to walk with faith and 
 
 hope, 
 
 That we may meet her there, our precicus 
 saint! 
 
 joy beyond what mortal lips can speak, 
 When Rosa Lee shall come to call us 
 
 home, 
 
 1 seem to see her blue eyes brighten now 7 , 
 
 I almost hear her angel whisper "come." 
 
 Methinks I hear the rustle of soft wings; 
 
 I love to think that she is still with me, 
 A quiet voice speaks in my spirit s depths, 
 
 "She ll be thine own thro all eternity." 
 
 180 
 
[In tender memory of my beloved and 
 life-long friend, Mrs. D. L. Barnes, who 
 passed over the Great Divide on the even 
 ing of December 14th, 1911.] 
 
 While bleak and chill the wintry winds 
 Are sighing o er the withered flowers, 
 
 Our heads are bowed in bitter grief, 
 
 And sorrow wrings these hearts of ours. 
 
 O, nevermore, at eventide, 
 
 Beside the hearthstone s ruddy glow, 
 Shall pleasant converse warm our hearts, 
 
 While we thy lovely presence know. 
 
 Sad days must pass on broken wing; 
 
 Through lonely hours we weep for thee; 
 For life hath not too many friends, 
 
 Like thee, so firm in constancy. 
 
 Adown the sweep of time that steals 
 Far back into our girlhood years, 
 
 The sad heart clings to days gone by 
 Which fondest mem ry still endears. 
 
 O, never once, hath friendship s bond 
 Between thy heart and mine, been strained 
 
 With any shade, or thought of change, 
 Or sweet affection ever waned. 
 
 O, can it be, that I no more 
 
 Shall see thy face, so loved and dear? 
 The richest blessings time can give 
 
 Cannot restore the yester-year. 
 
 181 
 
I cannot feel that thou art gone 
 
 So far away, dear, after all; 
 Tho yet a while we linger here, 
 
 Within the shadowed evening fall. 
 
 Forever, in our hearts must live 
 The beauty of thy spirit s grace; 
 
 And time can never hide away 
 The features of thy lovely face. 
 
 Dear eyes as blue as summer skies, 
 And marble brow, so smooth and fair; 
 
 The sunlight loved to linger on 
 The golden ripples of thy hair. 
 
 So good, so sweet, so angel like, 
 
 It is so hard to see thee go; 
 E en while we feel that thou no more 
 
 Canst know the touch of earthly woe. 
 
 We praise God for thy blameless life, 
 So rich and full of heavenly grace; 
 
 Thy gentle heart that shed its love 
 So free earth seemed a better place, 
 
 That thou didst come to dwell aw r hile 
 To smile and cheer, and bless our lives; 
 
 The great divide that lies between, 
 To thee, a clearer vision gives. 
 
 Adieu, sweet friend, in God s dear love, 
 We hope to clasp thy hand once more, 
 
 And face to face walk in the light 
 Of Heaven s fair, eternal shore. 
 
 182 
 
VII 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
C?onorrfc Calling 
 
 The faithful teacher s earnest work, 
 
 Of all life s great vocations, 
 Is one among those honored most, 
 
 By all the world s great nations. 
 
 To lead the mind of wayward } r outh 
 
 Along the path of glory; 
 And train the thoughts in wisdom s way 
 
 It is a beauteous story. 
 
 Their s be the lot to work and wait; 
 
 The seed now sown in sorrow 
 Will bud and bloom and bless the land, 
 
 On some bright coming morrow. 
 
 And still our hearts rejoice to know 
 
 The noble work progresses; 
 O, faithful teacher, be revived, 
 
 Your work the nation blesses. 
 
 Your s is the labor ne er repaid 
 With gold or worldly gainings; 
 
 And oft perhaps you needs must hear 
 Some murmurs and complainings. 
 
 Yet still within your spirit s depths 
 
 A gentle voice is telling, 
 In tones that bring a quiet peace 
 
 Of purest fountains welling. 
 
 The fountain which your w r ork supplies 
 Of wisdom s lasting sweetness; 
 
 Your mission filled, your life shall end 
 With one sublime completeness. 
 
 185 
 
tyeart 
 
 O, restless heart, crush back thy ceaseless 
 
 sighing, 
 
 And longing after what can never be; 
 Why beat against the bars till torn and 
 
 bleeding? 
 Some day a tender hand will set thee free. 
 
 O, heart impatient, wait a little longer; 
 
 Life does not hold the peace for which 
 
 you sigh; 
 But in the spirit land sweet rest is promisee , 
 
 To those who pass the portals of the sky. 
 
 Why fret thyself o er the inevitable, 
 
 Or weep for things which were not meant 
 
 for thee? 
 For what thy soul doth lack to make it 
 
 happy, 
 Is waiting in a sweet eternity. 
 
 And even if thy hand could grasp the treas 
 ures 
 Which seem the best and brightest to 
 
 thee now 
 Thy heart s desire might prove a, curse so 
 
 bitter, 
 
 That to the end of life thy tears would 
 flow. 
 
 For oft the thing we long for with heart 
 
 burnings, 
 Brings only gall and wormwood in its 
 
 train; 
 
 So, heart, be satisfied till heaven gives thee 
 A joy that never feels a throb of pain. 
 
 186 
 
31n t\)tt gears 
 
 In other years, some soft voice will awaken 
 The mem ry of these hours, so bright 
 and fair; 
 
 Perhaps thy heart will fondly keep and 
 
 cherish, 
 Some little gift a tress of silky hair. 
 
 It may be, that thou dost not deem them 
 golden, 
 
 These hours, which pass by thee un 
 heeded now; 
 
 Yet thou mayest live to look back to this 
 season, 
 
 And realize it was the best to know, 
 
 That thou wast happy, tho thy heart was 
 
 careless, 
 
 Nor half appreciated all life s good; 
 Then thou wilt sigh to think of joys de 
 parted, 
 
 "Which bathed thy sunny youth with 
 golden flood. 
 
 Then, oh, my friend, be happy in the 
 
 present; 
 For every hour may hold some joy for 
 
 thee, 
 
 If thou wilt find it; life is short, remember, 
 Thy barque will soon have glided o er the 
 sea. 
 
 In other years thou lt sigh, "O for one hour 
 
 Of those sweet days which past so lightly 
 by"; 
 
 So make the most of life to-day, my 
 brother, 
 
 Time soon will merge into eternity. 
 November 15th, 1884. 
 
 187 
 
(Eafce Life as 3!t 
 
 We cannot make the sun to shine, 
 
 Or clouds to flee away; 
 But with a cheerful heart we can 
 
 Enjoy the good today. 
 
 When shadows close the portals where 
 
 The glory once did shine, 
 Twere better far to wait and hope, 
 
 Than in despair repine. 
 
 "This life is what w 7 e make it," 
 
 I have never yet believed; 
 And he who thinks to govern fate, 
 
 Will surely be deceived. 
 
 Life s sun and shade go hand in hand, 
 
 For every joy a grief; 
 So take it as it is my friend, 
 
 For mortal things are brief. 
 
 How pleasant tis to think that One 
 
 Above directs our way, 
 And while His arm supports, our feet 
 
 Can never go astray. 
 
 So when the rain doth fall, our hearts 
 
 Will surely better grow; 
 As summer showers refresh the charms 
 
 Of flowers that sweetly blow. 
 
 188 
 
a Little l)trilr 
 
 A little while, and gloom shall change to 
 
 glory; 
 The light of golden morn shall crown the 
 
 hills; 
 Each new-born day repeats the sweet, 
 
 sweet story, 
 Which ever with delight the spirit thrills. 
 
 A little while life shall be thine to labor, 
 Then do the good you can, though small 
 it be; 
 
 If but a kind word spoken to thy neighbor, 
 Twill live to bless thee in eternity. 
 
 A little while shall griefs thy heart 
 
 embitter, 
 With deep regret for things that "might 
 
 have been"; 
 Thine eyes shall soon behold the golden 
 
 glitter 
 
 Of things that shine with fairer, purer 
 sheen. 
 
 A little while, and wildest billows roaring, 
 Shall hear the "Peace be still," and 
 
 tranquil lie, 
 And thy freed soul, in happiness, be 
 
 soaring 
 
 Above tierce waves and dark, storm- 
 driven sky. 
 
 A little while, and loved ones may be taken 
 To join the beautiful, white-robed throng; 
 
 On some sad morn, thy lone heart may 
 
 awaken 
 To miss the love-lit eyes and happy song. 
 
 1 80 
 
Then, oh! be kind and gentle while they 
 linger, 
 
 And let no sullen frown meet love s soft 
 smile; 
 
 It may be, Death will come with silent 
 ringer, 
 
 And steal thy treasures, ere a little while. 
 
 The saddest days are often those 
 I thought would be the best; 
 
 And hours that promised sweetest jo} r , 
 Leave me with aching breast. 
 
 How often my expectant heart 
 
 Hath dwelt on one delight; 
 But ah, a summer day can end 
 
 In skies of blackest night. 
 
 A summer dream can hold our life 
 In charms for one short while; 
 
 But soon tis past, and wintry blank 
 Will follow summer s smile. 
 
 But then a lesson I have learned, 
 Through many a bitter pain: 
 
 To look for perfect pleasure here 
 Is utterly in vain. 
 
 July llth, 1885. 
 
 190 
 
after ttje parting 
 
 When the farewell words are spoken, 
 And the friend has passed from sight, 
 
 How the heart looks back with yearning, 
 To a vanished season s light. 
 
 And we think with fond remembrance, 
 Of their virtues which arise, 
 
 Hiding every fault and failing 
 
 From our sad and tear-dimmed eyes. 
 
 And we pray that they will cherish 
 Kindly thoughts of us the while, 
 
 And forget the frown which met them, 
 When it should have been a smile. 
 
 Oh, how plainly do the visions 
 Of the past time rise to view! 
 
 With clear eyes we see each action, 
 Whether false, or pure and true. 
 
 And the memory of harshness 
 
 If we e er have been unkind, 
 Will awake to be the torment 
 
 Of a deeply troubled mind. 
 
 It were better, yes, far better, 
 And might save a world of woe, 
 
 W r ould we try to live each hour 
 As the last we d ever know. 
 
 As the last! Ah, who can tell thee 
 That another breath is thine? 
 
 For thy sun may, ere the morrow, 
 Cease forever more to shine. 
 
 191 
 
Sad farewells are ever breathing 
 On the winds that come and go. 
 
 And life s cruel, bitter partings 
 Make the sum of human woe. 
 
 But beyond the grief and sadness 
 Joy shall live without a smart; 
 
 In that land of pleasant meetings, 
 We shall know each faithful heart, 
 
 January 13th, 1887, 
 
 Hecall 
 
 We cannot bid the vanished hour return, 
 That once was beautiful with rosy glow; 
 
 Nor woo one blossom from the silent urn, 
 Where ashes of life s sweetness moulder 
 now. 
 
 We cannot blot the words from mem ry s 
 
 page, 
 Which once we spoke in thoughtless, 
 
 hasty breath, 
 
 Time hath no balm to soften or assuage 
 Regret, which only leaves the heart in 
 death. 
 
 We cannot with love s tender hands undo 
 The sad mistake of bitter days gone by; 
 
 But only hope, some day, hearts pure and 
 
 true, 
 May know us as we are, beyond the sky. 
 
 IQ2 
 
How kind is the greeting you send me, 
 
 And sweet is the message it brings; 
 While over the days that are weary, 
 
 Each word a bright radiance flings. 
 The hours of a slow convalescence 
 
 Are heavy and dull to me now; 
 So often my heart grows impatient, 
 
 And tired of the days as they flow. 
 
 I long for the strength that has left me 
 
 The health which was lately my own; 
 While others walk forth in their gladness, 
 
 I sit in my chamber alone. 
 And oh, how your sympathy cheers me, 
 
 And helps me to carry my cross; 
 Tis pleasant to know that you missed me, 
 
 And counted my absence a loss. 
 
 We meet in the realm of our fancies, 
 
 And mingle as spirits akin; 
 Tis like the sweet intercourse given 
 
 To hearts free from passion and sin. 
 Tis true there were friends to surround me 
 
 With every attention and care, 
 While tossing with pain and with fever, 
 
 Dear hands did no love-service spare. 
 
 Yet still there awakens a pleasure, 
 
 Which thrills this whole being of mine, 
 
 To feel that regret for my illness, 
 
 Hath moved that sweet spirit of thine. 
 
 Your words so inspiring imbue me 
 With hope and with energy new; 
 
 193 
 
And oh, if I could lead some creature 
 To seek for the good and the true 
 
 The burden and heat of the daytime 
 
 I d bear with a strength yet unknown, 
 And wait for the rest of the evening, 
 
 So sweet when the seed are well sown 
 And oh, on that beautiful morning, 
 
 When washed in His own precious blood, 
 I stand in His presence, what rapture 
 
 To hear, "She hath done what she could!" 
 
 August 13th, 1886. 
 
 194 
 
Why let thy heart be grieved? Time glid 
 ing onward, 
 Hath yet a balm to soothe thy greatest 
 
 care; 
 A few short days, and thou wilt look back 
 
 thinking 
 
 These griefs were only "trifles light as 
 air." 
 
 Why let thy heart be sad? No sighs can 
 
 alter. 
 The things that are; so teach thy heart 
 
 to yield. 
 Let Fate s decree be thine; ne er dare to 
 
 struggle, 
 
 And there will be no slaughter on the 
 field. 
 
 Why be cast down? If thou hast filled thy 
 
 mission, 
 
 And tried to do thy duty on life s road 
 E en though thou oft hast failed a hand 
 
 will guide thee 
 
 Thro these dark paths into a bright 
 abode. 
 
 Why care for friends estranged if they have 
 
 wronged thee? 
 Some day they ll know the worth of thy 
 
 true heart. 
 Time glides along and smoothes the snarls 
 
 and tangles; 
 
 He heals thy pain and stills the keenest 
 smart. 
 
 95 
 
Why nurse regrets? Look for the joy re 
 maining, 
 
 And all will yet be well if thou art brave, 
 And nobly do thy part today. Time brings 
 
 thee 
 
 E en at the last, sweet peace within tl e 
 grave. 
 
 are Cfcer tfte jfltttcxt 
 
 The hours the heart would cherish, 
 And hold with joy for aye, 
 
 Are those that soonest perish, 
 Like dreams they fade away. 
 
 The golden moments vanish, 
 Ere yet we learn their worth; 
 
 Fate s ruthless hand will banish, 
 The fairest things of earth. 
 
 The cold fierce winds of sorrow, 
 Will come at brightest noon, 
 
 And ere the coming morrow, 
 We sing a sadder tune. 
 
 The sweetest blossoms wither, 
 Ere Spring s fair hours have fled 
 
 And song-birds coming hither, 
 Will chant o er violets dead. 
 
 June, 1883. 
 
 196 
 
31 note ttjr 
 
 I love the sea, the bright deep sea, 
 When the wild waves dance in stormy glee; 
 I love to watch them come and go, 
 And sink with a sigh to their bed below. 
 
 The restless sea, the deep sad sea, 
 How dear are thy murmuring tones to me, 
 1 tune my heart to thy low soft sigh, 
 And feel thy pure breath as the winds go 
 by. 
 
 The white sails float, like a fairy boat; 
 I see them afar on thy breast like a mote; 
 I hear thy pulse beat soft and deep, 
 Like a monster bound in gentle sleep. 
 
 I d roam thy shore, forever more, 
 And hear thy chanting o er and o er; 
 Thy waves in sadness speak to me, 
 Yet still I love thee, surging sea. 
 
 Thy bosom fair, the bracing air, 
 A dear and nameless charm do bear; 
 The music of thy wooing tone 
 Is sweetest when I am alone. 
 
 Thy voice so deep, my senses keep, 
 When heart and mind are wrapt in sleep; 
 In dreams I hear thy breakers roar, 
 And dash against the lonely shore. 
 
 Far, far away, at close of day, 
 I love to watch thy glancing spray; 
 The stars gleam o er thy heaving breast, 
 And leave a bright and silver crest. 
 
 197 
 
The quiet moon, at night s pale noon, 
 Is listening to thy mournful tone; 
 The white gulls hover o er thy brow, 
 Like spirits from the land of snow. 
 
 I love the sea, the bounding sea, 
 The rippling waters bright and free; 
 Thy voice s softest murmurs come, 
 To haunt me in my distant home. 
 
 June, 1883. 
 
 198 
 
71 J0776 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY