i .. . ; mi i : .;.>; > ..-." I . ; . . / 16 FIRST EDITIONS OF AMERICAN AUTHORS VOYNICH (E. L.) 266 The Gadfly, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1897, first edition $ 5.00 WESCOTT (GLENWAY) 267 The Grandmothers, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1927, first edition 3.50 268 Goodbye Wisconsin, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1928, first edition 2.50 WHITE (WM. ALLEN) 269 The Court of Boyland, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1899, first edition (name on flyleaf) 10.00 WHITE (STEWART EDWARD) 270 Gold, 8vo, cloth, Garden City, 1913, first edition 7.50 271 The Gray Dawn, 8vo, cloth, Garden City, 1915, first edi- tion 5.00 WHITTIER (JOHN GREENLEAF) Hazel Blossom, 12mo, cloth, Boston, 1875, first edition.. 5.00 [273 Mabel Martin, crown 8vo, illustrated, Boston, 1876, first edition (first issue 56 illustrations) 3.00 WIGGIN (KATE DOUGLAS) 274 Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, 8vo, cloth, Boston, 1903, first edition , 8.00 275 New Chronicles of Rebecca, 8vo, cloth, Boston, 1907, first edition 4.50 WILDER (THORNTON) 276 The Cabala, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1926, first edition 25.00 277 The Bridge of San Luis Rey, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1927, first edition 20.00 278 The Angel That Troubled the Waters, 8vo, large paper, limited to 750 copies, signed, New York, 1928, first edition 20.00 279 The Woman of Andros, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1930, first edition 3.00 WILSON (HARRY LEON) 280 Bunker Bean, 8vo, cloth, Garden City, 1913, first edition 10.00 WYLIE (ELINOR) 281 The Orphan Angel, 8vo., cloth, New York, 1926, first edition 4.00 282 The Orphan Angel, crown 8vo, boards, linen back, large paper, limited to 190 copies, signed, New York, 1926, first edition 15.00 283 Trivial Breath, crown 8vo, linen back, large paper, New York, 1928, limited to 100 copies, signed, first edition.. 15.00 284 Angels and Earthly Creatures, 8vo, boards, large paper, _____ limited to 200 copies, New York, 1929, first edition 10.00 FIRST EDITIONS OF AMERICAN AUTHORS 15 TARKINGTON (BOOTH) 247 The Conquest of Canaan, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1905, first edition $ 3.50 248 The Guest of Quesnay, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1908, first edition 3.50 249 Penrod, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1914, first edition, first issue 20.00"" 250 Seventeen, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1916, first edition, first issue 10.00 251 Penrod and Sam, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1916, name on flyleaf, first edition 12.50 252 Alice Adams, 8vo, cloth, Garden City, 1921, first edition 3.50 253 Penrod Jashber, 8vo, cloth, Garden City, 1929, first edi- tion 2.50 THOMASON (JOHN W., JR.) 254 Fix Bayonets, crown 8vo, boards, linen back, New York, 1926, first edition. (A note of thanks, signed, pasted in) 600 ' ' THOREAU (HENRY D.) 255 Excursions, 8vo, original cloth, Boston, 1863, fine copy, first edition 20.00 256 A Yankee in Canada, 8vo, original cloth, Boston, 1866, first edition 30.00 TWAIN (MARK) 257 Burlesque Autobiography, 12mo, cloth, New York, 1871, first edition, second issue 2.50 258 A Tramp Abroad, crown 8vo, cloth, Hartford, 1880, first edition, correct issue, frontispiece, "Moses." Fair copy, lacks back flyleaf 12.50 259 The Stolen White Elephant, 12mo, cloth, Boston, 1882, first edition 7.50 260 Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, crown 8vo, cloth, New York, 1885, first edition, first issue, with all points, slipcase 300.00 261 The Story of His Life and Work, by Will M. Clemens, 12mo, paper wrappers, San Francisco, 1892, first edi- tion 8.50 262 The American Claimant, 8vo, cloth, New York, 1892, first edition 5.00 263 Following the Equator, crown 8vo, cloth, Hartford, 1897, mint copy, first edition 15.00 Christian Science, Svo, cloth, New York, 1907, first edi- tion 6.50 265 The Adventures of Snodgrass, crown Svo, boards, Chi- cago, 1928, first edition.... 5.00 HAZEL-BLOSSOMS BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. BOSTON: JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & Co. 1875- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. UNIVERSITY PRESS : WELCH, BIGELOW, & Co., CAMBRIDGE. CONTENTS. PAGE SUMNER 13 HAZEL-BLOSSOMS. THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ 33 THE FRIEND'S BURIAL 40 JOHN UNDERBILL 47 IN QUEST 58 A SEA DREAM 62 A MYSTERY 70 CONDUCTOR BRADLEY 74 CHILD-SONGS 77 THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD ... 82 KINSMAN .89 VESTA * . 91 THE HEALER . . . . ' 93 A CHRISTMAS CARMEN 96 HYMN . 99 POEMS BY ELIZABETH H. WHITTIER. THE DREAM OF ARGYLE 103 LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEPARTURE OF JOSEPH STURGE IO8 VI CONTENTS. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS DR. KANE IN CUBA LADY FRANKLIN NIGHT AND DEATH THE MEETING WATERS THE WEDDING VEIL CHARITY NOTE. I HAVE ventured, in compliance with the desire of dear friends of my beloved sister ELIZABETH H. WHITTIER, to add to this little volume the few poetical pieces which she left behind her. As she was very distrustful of her own powers, and altogether without ambition for literary distinction, she shunned everything like publicity, and found far greater happiness in generous appreciation of the gifts of her friends than in the cultivation of her own. Yet it has always seemed to me, that had her health, sense of duty and fitness, and her extreme self- distrust permitted, she might have taken a high place among lyrical singers. These poems, with perhaps two or three exceptions, afford but slight indications of the inward life of the writer, who had an almost morbid dread of spiritual and intellectual egotism, or of her ten- derness of sympathy, chastened mirthfulness, and pleas- ant play of thought and fancy, when her shy, beautiful soul opened like a flower in the warmth of social com- munion. In the lines on Dr. Kane her friends will see 8 NOTE. something of her fine individuality, the rare mingling of delicacy and intensity of feeling which made her dear to them. This little poem reached Cuba while the great explorer lay on his death-bed, and we are told that he listened with grateful tears while it was read to him by his mother. i I am tempted to say more, but I write as under the eye of her who, while with us, shrank with painful depreca- tion from the praise or mention of performances which seemed so far below her ideal of excellence. To those who best knew her, the beloved circle of her intimate friends, I dedicate this slight memorial. J. G. W. AMESBURY, 9th MO., 1874. r I ^HE summer warmth has left the sky, The summer songs have died away ; And, withered, in the footpaths lie The fallen leaves, but yesterday With ruby and with topaz gay. The grass is browning on the hills ; No pale, belated flowers recall The astral fringes of the rills, And drearily the dead vines fall, Frost-blackened, from the roadside wall. 9 Yet, through the gray and sombre wood, Against the dusk of fir and pine, Last of their floral sisterhood, The hazel's yellow blossoms shine, The tawny gold of Afric's mine! Small beauty hath my unsung flower, For spring to own or summer hail ; But, in the season's saddest hour, To skies that weep and winds that wail Its glad surprisals never fail. O days grown cold ! O life grown old ! No rose of June may bloom again ; But, like the hazel's twisted gold, Through early frost and latter rain Shall hints of summer-time remain. And as within the hazel's bough A gift of mystic virtue dwells, That points to golden ores below, And in dry desert places tells Where flow unseen the cool, sweet wells, So, in the wise Diviner's hand, Be mine the hazel's grateful part To feel, beneath a thirsty land, The living waters .thrill and start, The beating of the rivulet's heart ! Snfficeth me the gift to light With latest bloom the dark, cold days ; To call some hidden spring to sight That, in these dry and dusty ways, Shall sing its pleasant song of praise, ii O Love ! the hazel-wand may fail, But thou canst lend the surer spell, That, passing over Baca's vale, Repeats the old-time miracle, And makes the desert-land a well. 12 SUMMER. " I am not one who has disgraced beauty of sentiment by deformity of conduct, or the maxims of a freeman by the actions of a slave ; but, by the grace of God, I have kept my life unsullied." MILTON'S Defence of the People of England. SUMNER. /^\ MOTHER STATE ! the winds of March Blew chill o'er Auburn's Field of God, Where, slow, beneath a leaden arch Of sky, thy mourning children trod. And now, with all thy woods in leaf, Thy fields in flower, beside thy dead Thou sittest, in thy robes of grief, A Rachel yet un comforted ! And once again the organ swells, Once more the flag is half-way hung, l6 SUMNER. And yet again the mournful bells In all thy steeple-towers are rung. And I, obedient to thy will, Have come a simple wreath to lay, Superfluous, on a grave that still Is sweet with all the flowers of May. I take, with awe, the task assigned ; It may be that my friend might miss, In his new sphere of heart and mind, Some token from my hand in this. By many a tender memory moved, Along the past my thought I send ; The record of the cause he loved Is the best record of its friend. SUMNER. I/ No trumpet sounded in his ear, He saw not Sinai's cloud and flame, But never yet to Hebrew seer A clearer voice of duty came. God said : " Break thou these yokes ; undo These heavy burdens. I ordain A work to last thy whole life through, A ministry of strife and pain. " Forego thy dreams of lettered ease, Put thou the scholar's promise by, The rights of man are more than these." He heard, and answered : " Here am I ! " He set his face against the blast, His feet against the flinty shard, 1 8 SUMNER. Till the hard service grew, at last, Its own exceeding great reward. Lifted like Saul's above the crowd, Upon his kingly forehead fell The first, sharp bolt of Slavery's cloud, Launched at the truth he urged so well. Ah ! never yet, at rack or stake, Was sorer loss made Freedom's gain, Than his, who suffered for her sake The beak-torn Titan's lingering pain ! The fixed star of his faith, through all Loss, doubt, and peril, shone the same ; As through a night of storm, some tall, Strong lighthouse lifts its steady flame. SUMNER. 19 Beyond the dust and smoke he saw The sheaves of freedom's large increase, The holy fanes of equal law, The New Jerusalem of peace. The weak might fear, the worldling mock, The faint and blind of heart regret ; All knew at last th' eternal rock On which his forward feet were set. The subtlest scheme of compromise Was folly to his purpose bold ; The strongest mesh of party lies Weak to the simplest truth he told. One language held his heart and lip, Straight onward to his goal he trod, 2O SUMNER. And proved the highest statesmanship Obedience to the voice of God. No wail was in his voice, none heard, When treason's storm-cloud blackest grew, The weakness of a doubtful word ; His duty, and the end, he knew. The first to smite, the first to spare ; When once the hostile ensigns fell, He stretched out hands of generous care To lift the foe he fought so well. For there was nothing base or small Or craven in his soul's broad plan ; Forgiving all things personal, He hated only wrong to man. SUMNER. 21 The old traditions of his State, The memories of her great and good, Took from his life a fresher date, And in himself embodied stood. How felt the greed of gold and place, The venal crew that schemed and planned, The fine scorn of that haughty face, The spurning of that bribeless hand ! If than Rome's tribunes statelier He wore his senatorial robe, His lofty port was all for her, The one dear spot on all the globe. If to the master's plea he gave The vast contempt his manhood felt, 22 v SUMNER. He saw a brother in the slave, * With man as equal man he dealt. Proud was he ? If his presence kept Its grandeur wheresoe'er he trod, As if from Plutarch's gallery stepped The hero and the demi-god, None failed, at least, to reach his ear, Nor want nor woe appealed in vain ; The homesick soldier knew his cheer, And blessed him from his ward of pain. Safely his dearest friends may own The slight defects he never hid, The surface-blemish in the stone Of the tall, stately pyramid. SUMNER. 23 Suffice it that he never brought His conscience to the public mart ; But lived himself the truth he taught, White-souled, clean-handed, pure of heart. What if he felt the natural pride Of power in noble use, too true With thin humilities to hide The work he did, the lore he knew ? Was he not just ? Was any wronged By that assured self-estimate ? He took but what to him belonged, Unenvious of another's state. Well might he heed the words he spake, And scan with care the written page 24 SUMNER. Through which he still shall warm and wake The hearts of men from age to age. Ah ! who shall blame him now because He solaced thus his hours of pain ! Should not the o'erworn thresher pause, And hold to light his golden grain ? No sense of humor dropped its oil On the hard ways his purpose went ; Small play of fancy lightened toil ; He spake alone the thing he meant. He loved his books, the Art that hints A beauty veiled behind its own-, The graver's line, the pencil's tints, The chisel's shape evoked from stone. SUMNER. 25 He cherished, void of selfish ends, The social courtesies that bless And sweeten life, and loved his friends With most unworldly tenderness. But still his tired eyes rarely learned The glad relief by Nature brought ; Her mountain ranges never turned His current of persistent thought. The sea rolled chorus to his speech Three-banked like Latium's tall trireme, With laboring oars ; the grove and beach Were Forum and the Academe. The sensuous joy from all things fair His strenuous bent of soul repressed, 26 SUMNER. And left from youth to silvered hair Few hours for pleasure, none for rest. For all his life was poor without, O Nature, make the last amends ! Train all thy flowers his grave about, And make thy singing-birds his friends ! Revive again, thou summer rain, The broken turf upon his bed ! Breathe, summer wind, thy tenderest strain Of low, sweet music overhead ! With calm and beauty symbolize The peace which follows long annoy, And lend our earth-bent, mourning eyes Some hint of his diviner joy. SUMNER. 27 For safe with right and truth he is, As God lives he must live alway ; There is no end for souls like his, No night for children of the day ! Nor cant nor poor solicitudes Made weak his life's great argument ; Small leisure his for frames and moods Who followed Duty where she went. The broad, fair fields of God he saw Beyond the bigot's narrow bound ; The truths he moulded into law In Christ's beatitudes he found. His State-craft was the Golden Rule, His right of vote a sacred trust ; 28 SUMNER. Clear, over threat and ridicule, All heard his challenge: "Is it just?" And when the hour supreme had come, Not for himself a thought he gave ; In that last pang of martyrdom, His care was for the half-freed slave. Not vainly dusky hands upbore, In prayer, the passing soul to heaven Whose mercy to His suffering poor Was service to the Master given. Long shall the good State's annals tell, Her children's children long be taught, How, praised or blamed, he guarded well The trust he neither shunned nor sought. SUMNER. 29 If for one moment turned thy face, O Mother, from thy son, not long He waited calmly in his place The sure remorse which follows wrong. Forgiven be the State he loved The one brief lapse, the single blot ; Forgotten be the stain removed, Her righted record shows it not ! The lifted sword above her shield With jealous care shall guard his fame ; The pine-tree on her ancient field To all the winds shall speak his name. The marble image of her son Her loving hands shall yearly crown, 30 SUMNER. And from her pictured Pantheon His grand, majestic face look down. O State so passing rich before, Who now shall doubt thy highest claim ? The world that counts thy jewels o'er Shall longest pause at SUMMER'S name ! HAZEL BLOSSOMS. THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. /^\N the isle of Penikese, Ringed about by sapphire seas, Fanned by breezes salt and cool, Stood the Master with his school. Over sails that not in vain Wooed the west-wind's steady strain, Line of coast that low and far Stretched its undulating bar, Wings aslant along the rim i Of the waves they stooped to skim, Rock and isle and glistening bay, Fell the beautiful white day. 34 THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. Said the Master to the youth : " We have come in search of truth, Trying with uncertain key Door by door of mystery ; We are reaching, through His laws, To the garment-hern of Cause, Him, the endless, unbegun, The Unnamable, the One Light of all our light the Source, Life of life, and Force of force. As with fingers of the blind, We are groping here to find What the hieroglyphics mean Of the Unseen in the seen, What the Thought which underlies Nature's masking and disguise, What it is that hides beneath THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. 35 Blight and bloom and birth and death. By past efforts unavailing, Doubt and error, loss and failing, Of our weakness made aware, On the threshold of our task Let us light and guidance ask, Let us pause in silent prayer ! " Then, the Master in his place Bowed his head a little space, And the leaves by soft airs stirred, Lapse of wave and cry of bird Left the solemn hush unbroken Of that wordless prayer unspoken, While its wish, on earth unsaid, Rose to heaven interpreted. As, in life's best hours, we hear . 36 THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. By the spirit's finer ear His low voice within us, thus The All-Father heareth us ; And his holy ear we pain With our noisy words and vain. Not for Him our violence Storming at the gates of sense, His the primal language, his The eternal silences ! Even the careless heart was moved, And the doubting gave assent, With a gesture reverent, To the Master well-beloved. As thin mists are glorified By the light they cannot hide, All who gazed upon him saw, THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. 37 Through its veil of tender awe, How his face was still uplit By the old sweet look of it, Hopeful, trustful, full of cheer, And the love that casts out fear. Who the secret may declare Of that brief, unuttered prayer ? Did the shade before him come Of th' inevitable doom, Of the end of earth so near, And Eternity's new year? In the lap of sheltering seas Rests the isle of Penikese ; But the lord of the domain Comes not to his own again : Where the eyes that follow fail, 38 THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. On a vaster sea his sail Drifts beyond our beck and hail. Other lips within its bound Shall the laws of life expound ; Other eyes from rock and shell Read the world's old riddles well : But when breezes light and bland Blow from Summer's blossomed land, When the air is glad with wings, And the blithe song-sparrow sings, Many an eye with his still face Shall the living ones displace, Many an ear the word shall seek He alone could fitly speak. And one name fore verm ore Shall be uttered o'er and o'er By the waves that kiss the shore, THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. 39 By the curlew's whistle sent Down the cool, sea-scented air; In all voices known to her, Nature owns her worshipper, Half in triumph, half lament. Thither Love shall tearful turn, Friendship pause uncovered there, And the wisest reverence learn From the Master's silent prayer. THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. TV /TY thoughts are all in yonder town, Where, wept by many tears, To-day my mother's friend lays down The burden of her years. True as in life, no poor disguise Of death with her is seen, And on her simple casket lies No wreath of bloom and green. O, not for her the florist's art, The mocking weeds of woe, THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. 41 Dear memories in each mourner's heart Like heaven's white lilies blow. And all about the softening air Of new-born sweetness tells, And the ungathered May-flowers wear The tints of ocean shells. The old, assuring miracle Is fresh as heretofore ; And earth takes up its parable Of life from death once more. Here organ-swell and church-bell toll Methinks but discord were, The prayerful silence of the soul Is best befitting her. 42 THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. No sound should break the quietude Alike of earth and. sky ; O wandering wind in Seabrook wood, Breathe but a half-heard sigh! Sing softly, spring-bird, for her sake ; . And thou not distant sea, j Lapse lightly as if Jesus spake, And thou wert Galilee ! For all her quiet life flowed on As meadow streamlets flow, Where fresher green reveals alone The noiseless ways they go. From her loved place of prayer I see The plain-robed mourners pass, THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. 43 With slow feet treading reverently The graveyard's springing grass. Make room, O mourning ones, for me, Where, like the friends of Paul, That you no more her face shall see You sorrow most of all. Her path shall brighten more and more Unto the perfect day ; She cannot fail of peace who bore Such peace with her away. O sweet, calm face that seemed to wear The look of sins forgiven ! O voice of prayer that seemed to bear Our own needs up to heaven ! 44 THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. How reverent in our midst she stood, Or knelt in grateful praise ! What grace of Christian womanhood Was in her household ways ! For still her holy living meant No duty left undone ; The heavenly and the human blent Their kindred loves in one. And if her life small leisure found For feasting ear and eye, And Pleasure, on her daily round, She passed unpausing by, Yet with her went a secret sense Of all things sweet and fair, THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. 45 And Beauty's gracious providence Refreshed her unaware. She kejDt her line of rectitude With love's unconscious ease ; Her kindly instincts understood All gentle courtesies. An inborn charm of graciousness Made sweet her smile and tone, And glorified her farm-wife dress With beauty not its own. The dear Lord's best interpreters Are humble human souls ; The Gospel of a life like hers Is more than books or scrolls. 46 THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. From scheme and creed the light goes out, TJie saintly fact survives ; The blessed Master none can doubt Revealed in holy lives. JOHN UNDERHILL. A SCORE of years had come and gone Since the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth stone, When Captain Underbill, bearing scars From Indian ambush and Flemish wars, Left three-hilled Boston and wandered down, East by north, to Cocheco town. With Vane the younger, in counsel sweet He had sat at Anna Hutch inson's feet, And, when the bolt of banishment fell On the head of his saintly oracle, He had shared her ill as her good report, And braved the wrath of the General Court. 48 JOHN UNDERHILL. He shook from his feet as he rode away The dust of the Massachusetts Bay. The world might bless and the world might ban What did it matter the perfect man, To whom the freedom of earth was given, Proof against sin, and sure of heaven ? He cheered his heart as he rode along With screed of Scripture and holy song, Or thought how he rode with his lances free By the Lower Rhine and the Zuyder-Zee, Till his wood-path grew to a trodden road, And Hilton Point in the distance showed. He saw the church with the block-house nigh, The two fair rivers, the flakes thereby, And, tacking to windward, low and crank, JOHN UNDERBILL. 49 The little shallop from Strawberry Bank ; And he rose in his stirrups and looked abroad Over land and water, and praised the Lord. Goodly and stately and grave to see, Into the clearing's space rode he, With the sun on the hilt of his sword in sheath, And his silver buckles and spurs beneath, And the settlers welcomed him, one and all, From swift Quampeagan to Gonic Fall. And he said to the elders : " Lo, I come As the way seemed open to seek a home. Somewhat the Lord hath wrought by my hands In the Narragansett and Netherlands, And if here ye have work for a Christian man, I will tarry, and serve ye as best I can. JOHN UNDERHILL. " I boast not of gifts, but fain would own The wonderful favor God hath shown, The special mercy vouchsafed one day On the shore of Narragansett Bay, As I sat, with my pipe, from the camp aside, And mused like Isaac at eventide. " A sudden sweetness, of peace I found, A garment of gladness wrapped me round ; I felt from the law of works released, The strife of the flesh and spirit ceased, My faith to a full assurance grew, And all I had hoped for myself I knew. " Now, as God appointeth, I keep my way, I shall not stumble, I shall not stray ; He hath taken away my fig-leaf dress, JOHN UNDERHILL. 51 I wear the robe of his righteousness ; And the shafts of Satan no more avail Than Pequot arrows on Christian mail." " Tarry with us," the settlers cried, " Thou man of God, as our ruler and guide." And Captain Underhill bowed his head. " The will of the Lord be done ! " he said. And the morrow beheld him sitting down In the ruler's seat in Cocheco town. And he judged therein as a just man should ; His words were wise and his rule was good ; He coveted not his neighbor's land, From the holding of bribes he shook his hand ; And through the camps of the heathen ran A wholesome fear of the valiant man. 52 JOHN UNDERHILL. But the heart is deceitful, the good Book saith, And life hath ever a savor of death. Through hymns of triumph the tempter calls, And whoso thinketh he standeth falls. Alas ! ere their round the seasons ran, There was grief in the soul of the saintly man. The tempter's arrows that rarely fail Had found the joints of his spiritual mail ; And men took note of his gloomy air, The shame in his eye, the halt in his prayer, The signs of a battle lost within, The pain of a soul in the coils of sin. Then a whisper of scandal linked his name With broken vows and a life of blame ; And the people looked askance on him JOHN UNDERHILL. 53 As he walked among them sullen and grim, 111 at ease, and bitter of word, And prompt of quarrel with hand or sword. None knew how, with prayer and fasting still, He strove in the bonds of his evil will ; But he shook himself like Samson at length, And girded anew his loins of strength, And bade the crier g*o up and down And call together the wondering town. Jeer and murmur and shaking of head Ceased as he rose in his place and said : " Men, brethren, and fathers, well ye know How I came among you a year ago, Strong in the faith that my soul was freed From sin of feeling, or thought, or deed. 54 JOHN UNDERHILL. " I have sinned, I own it with grief and shame, But not with a lie on my lips I came. In my blindness I verily thought my heart Swept and garnished in every part. He chargeth His angels with folly ; He sees The heavens unclean. Was I more than these ? " I urge no plea. At your feet I lay The trust you gave me, and go my way. Hate me or pity me, as you will, The Lord will have mercy on sinners still ; And I, who am chiefest, say to all, Watch and pray, lest ye also fall." < No voice made answer : a sob so low That only his quickened ear could know Smote his heart with a bitter pain, JOHN IfNDERHILL. 55 As into the forest he rode again, And the veil of its oaken leaves shut down On his latest glimpse of Cocheco town. Crystal-clear on the man of sin The streams flashed up, and the sky shone in ; On his cheek of fever the cool wind blew, The leaves dropped on him their tears of dew, And angels of God, in the pure, sweet guise Of flowers, looked on him with sad surprise. Was his ear at fault that brook and breeze Sang in their saddest of minor keys ? What was it the mournful wood-thrush said ? What whispered the pine-trees overhead ? Did he hear the Voice on his lonely way That Adam heard in the cool of day ? 56 JOHN UNDERHILL. Into the desert alone rode he, Alone with the Infinite Purity ; And, bowing his soul to its tender rebuke, As Peter did to the Master's look, He measured his path with prayers of pain For peace with God and nature again. And in after years to Cocheco came The bruit of a once familiar name ; How among the Dutch of New Netherlands, From wild Danskamer to Haarlem sands, A penitent soldier preached the Word, And smote the heathen with Gideon's sword ! And the heart of Boston was glad to hear How he harried the foe on the long frontier, And heaped on the land against him barred JOHN UNDERHILL. 57 The coals of his generous watch and ward. Frailest and bravest ! the Bay State still Counts with her worthies John Underbill. 3* IN QUEST. T T AVE I not voyaged, friend beloved, with tbee On the great waters of the unsounded sea, Momently listening with suspended oar For the low rote of waves upon a shore Changeless as heaven, where never fog-cloud drifts Over its windless woods, nor mirage lifts The steadfast hills ; where never birds of doubt Sing to mislead, and every dream dies out, And the dark riddles which perplex us here In the sharp solvent of its light are clear ? Thou knowest how vain our quest ; how, soon or late, The baffling tides and circles of debate IN QUEST. 59 Swept back our bark unto its starting-place, Where, looking forth upon the blank, gray space, And round about us seeing, with sad eyes, The same old difficult hills and cloud-cold skies, We said : " This outward search availeth not To find Him. He is farther than we thought, Or, haply, nearer. To this very spot Whereon we wait, this commonplace of home, As to the* well of Jacob, He may come And tell us all things." As I listened there, Through the expectant silences of prayer, Somewhat I seemed to hear, which hath to me Been hope, strength, comfort, and I give it thee. " The riddle of the world is understood Only by him who feels that God is good, As only he can feel who makes his love 60 IN QUEST. The ladder of his faith, and climbs above t On th' rounds of his best instincts ; draws no line Between mere human goodness and divine, But, judging God by what in him is best, With a child's trust leans on a Father's breast, And hears unmoved the old creeds babble still Of kingly power and dread caprice of will, Chary of blessing, prodigal of curse, The pitiless doomsman of the universe. Can Hatred ask for love ? Can Selfishness Invite to self-denial ? Is He less Than man in kindly dealing ? Can He break His own great law of fatherhood, forsake And curse His children ? Not for earth and heaven Can separate tables of the law be given. No rule can bind which He himself denies ; The truths of time are not eternal lies." IN QUEST. 6l So heard I ; and .the chaos round me spread To light and order grew ; and, " Lord," I said, " Our sins are our tormentors, worst of all Felt in distrustful shame that dares not call Upon Thee as our Father. We have set A strange god up, but Thou remainest yet. All that I feel of pity Thou hast known Before I was ; my best is all Thy own. From Thy great heart of goodness mine but drew Wishes and prayers ; but Thou, O Lord, wilt do, In Thy own time, by ways I cannot see, All that I feel when I am nearest Thee ! " A SEA DREAM. \1{ 7E saw the slow tides go and come, The curving surf-lines lightly drawn, The gray rocks touched with tender bloom Beneath the fresh-blown rose of dawn. We saw in richer sunsets lost The sombre pomp of showery noons ; And signalled spectral sails that crossed The weird, low light of rising moons. On stormy eves from cliff and head We saw the white spray tossed and spurned ; While over all, in gold and red, Its face of fire the lighthouse turned. A SEA DREAM. 63 The rail-car brought its daily crowds, Half curious, half indifferent, Like passing sails or floating clouds, We saw them as they came and went. But, one calm morning, as we lay And watched the mirage-lifted wall Of coast, across the dreamy bay, And heard afar the curlew call, And nearer voices, wild or tame, * Of airy flock and childish throng, Up from the water's edge there came Faint snatches of familiar song. Careless we heard the singer's choice Of old and common airs ; at last 64 A SEA DREAM. The tender pathos of his voice In one low chanson held us fast. A song that mingled joy and pain, And memories old and sadly sweet ; While, timing to its minor strain, The waves in lapsing cadence beat. The waves are glad in breeze and sun ; The rocks are fringed with foam ; L walk once more a haunted shore, A stranger, yet at home, A land of dreams I roam. Is this the wind, the soft sea-wind That stirred thy locks of brown ? Are these the rocks whose mosses knew A SEA DREAM. 65 The trail of thy light gown, Where boy 'and girl sat down ? I see the gray fort's broken wall, The boats that rock below ; And, out at sea, the passing sails We saw so long ago Rose-red in morning's glow. The freshness of the early time On every breeze is blown ; As glad the sea, as blue the sky, The change is ours alone ; The saddest is my own. A stranger now, a world-worn man, Is he who bears my name ; But thou, methinks, whose mortal life 66 A SEA DREAM. Immortal youth became, Art evermore the saVne. Thou art not here, thou art not there, Thy place I cannot see ; I only know that where thou art The blessed angels be, And heaven is glad for thee. Forgive me if the evil years Have left on me their sign ; Wash out, O soul so beautiful, The many stains of mine In tears of love divine ! I could not look on thee and live, If thou wert by my side ; The vision of a shining one, A SEA DREAM. 6/ The white and heavenly bride, Is well to me denied. But turn to me thy dear girl-face Without the angel's crown, The wedded roses of thy lips, Thy loose hair rippling down In waves of golden brown. Look forth once more through space and time, And let thy sweet shade fall In tenderest grace of soul and form On memory's frescoed wall. A shadow, and yet all ! Draw near, more near, forever dear ! Where'er I rest or roam, Or in the city's crowded streets, 68 A SEA DREAM. Or by the blown sea foam, The thought of thee is home ! At breakfast hour the singer read The city news, with comment wise, Like one who felt the pulse of trade Beneath his finger fall and rise. His look, his air, his curt speech, told The man of action, not of books, To whom the corners made in gold And stocks were more than seaside nooks. Of life beneath the life confessed His song had hinted unawares ; Of flowers in traffic's ledgers pressed, Of human hearts in bulls and bears. A SEA DREAM. 69 But eyes in vain were turned to watch That face so hard and shrewd and strong; And ears in vain grew sharp to catch The meaning of that morning song. In vain some sweet-voiced querist sought To sound him, leaving as she came ; Her baited album only caught A common, unromantic name. No word betrayed the mystery fine, That trembled on the singer's tongue ; He came and went, and left no sign Behind him save the song he sung. A MYSTERY. / "T^HE river hemmed with leaning trees Wound through its meadows green ; A low, blue line of mountains showed The open pines between. / One sharp, tall peak above them all Clear into sunlight sprang : I saw the river of my dreams, The mountains that I sang ! No clew of memory led me on, But well the ways I knew ; A MYSTERY. 71 A feeling of familiar things With every footstep grew. Not otherwise above its crag Could lean the blasted pine ; Not otherwise the maple hold Aloft its red ensign. So up the long and shorn foot-hills The mountain road should creep ; 'So, green and low, the meadow fold Its red-haired kine asleep. The river wound as it should wind ; Their place the mountains took ; The white torn fringes of their clouds Wore no unwonted look; A MYSTERY. Yet ne'er before that river's rim Was pressed by feet of mine, Never before mine eyes had crossed That broken mountain line. A presence, strange at once and known, Walked with me as my guide ; The skirts of some forgotten life Trailed noiseless at my side. Was it a dim-remembered dream ? Or glimpse through aeons old ? The secret which the mountains kept The river never told. But from the vision ere it passed A tender hope I drew, A MYSTERY. 73 And, pleasant as a dawn of spring, The thought within me grew, That love would temper every change, And soften all surprise, And, misty with the dreams of earth, The hills of Heaven arise. CONDUCTOR BRADLEY. CONDUCTOR BRADLEY, (always may his \~s name Be said with reverence!) as the swift doom came, Smitten to death, a crushed and mangled frame, Sank, with the brake he grasped just where he stood To do the utmost that a brave man could, And die, if needful, as a true man should. Men stooped above him ; women dropped their tears On that poor wreck beyond all hopes or fears, Lost in the strength and glory of his years. CONDUCTOR BRADLEY. 75 What heard they ? Lo ! the ghastly lips of pain, Dead to all thought save duty's, moved again : " Put out the signals for the other train ! " No nobler utterance since the world began From lips of saint or martyr ever ran, Electric, through the sympathies of man. Ah me ! how poor and noteless seem to this The sick-bed dramas of self-consciousness, Our sensual fears of pain and hopes of bliss ! O, grand, supreme endeavor ! Not in vain That last brave act of failing tongue and brain ! Freighted with life the downward rushing train,' Following the wrecked one, as wave follows wave, 76 CONDUCTOR BRADLEY. Obeyed the warning which the dead lips gave. Others he saved, himself he could not save. Nay, the lost life was saved. He is not dead Who in his record still the earth shall tread With God's clear aureole shining round his head. We bow as in the dust, with all our pride Of virtue dwarfed the noble deed beside. God give us grace to live as Bradley died ! CHILD-SONGS. OTILL linger in our noon of time And on our Saxon tongue The echoes of the* home-born hymns The Aryan mothers sung. And childhood had its litanies 9 In every age and clime ; The earliest cradles of the race Were rocked to poet's rhyme. Nor sky, nor wave, nor tree, nor flower, Nor green earth's virgin sod, 78 CHILD-SONGS. So moved the singer's heart of old As these small ones of God. The mystery of unfolding life Was more than dawning morn, Than opening flower or crescent moon The human soul new-born ! And still to childhood's sweet appeal The heart of genius turns, And more than all the sages teach From lisping voices learns, - The voices loved of him who sang, Where Tweed and Teviot glide, That sound to-day on all the winds That blow from Rydal-side, CHILD-SONGS. 79 Heard in the Teuton's household songs, And folk-lore of the Finn, Where'er to holy Christmas hearths The Christ-child enters in ! Before life's sweetest mystery still The heart in reverence kneels ; The wonder of the primal birth The latest mother feels. We need love's tender lessons taught As only weakness can ; God hath his small interpreters ; The child must teach the man. We wander wide through evil years, Our eyes of faith grow dim ; 80 CHILD-SONGS. But he is freshest from His hands And nearest unto Him ! And haply, pleading long with Him For sin-sick hearts and cold, The angels of our childhood still The Father's face behold. Of such the kingdom ! Teach thou us, O Master most divine, To feel the deep significance Of these wise words of thine ! The haughty eye shall seek in vain What innocence beholds ; No cunning finds the key of heaven, No strength its gate unfolds. CHILD-SONGS. 8 1 Alone to guilelessness and love That gate shall open fall ; The mind of pride is nothingness The childlike heart is all ! THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONG- WOOD. TT TITH fifty years between you and your well- kept wedding vow, The Golden Age, old friends of mine, is not a fable now. And, sweet as has life's vintage been through all your pleasant past, Still, as at Cana's marriage-feast, the best wine is the last ! Again before me, with your names, fair Chester's landscape comes, THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. 83 Its meadows, woods, and ample barns, and quaint, stone-builded homes. The smooth-shorn vales, the wheaten slopes, the boscage green and soft, Of which their poet, sings so well from towered Cedarcroft. And lo ! from all the country-side come neighbors, kith and kin ; From city, hamlet, farm-house old, the wedding guests come in. And they who, without scrip or purse, mob-hunted, travel- worn, In Freedom's age of martyrs came, as victors now return. 84 THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. Older and slower, yet the same, files in the long array, And hearts are light and eyes are glad, though heads are badger-gray. The fire-tried men of Thirty-eight who saw with me the fall, Midst roaring flames and shouting mob, of Penn- sylvania Hall ; And they of Lancaster who turned the cheeks of tyrants pale, Singing of freedom through the grates of Moya- mensing jail ! And haply with them, all unseen, old comrades, gone before, THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. 85 Pass, silently as shadows pass, within your open door, The eagle face of Lindley Coates, brave Garrett's daring zeal, The Christian grace of Pennock, the steadfast heart of Neal. Ah me ! beyond all power to name, the worthies tried and true, Grave men, fair women, youth and maid, pass by in hushed review. Of varying faiths, a common cause fused all their hearts in one. God give them now, whate'er their names, the peace of duty done ! 86 THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. How gladly would I -tread again the pld-remem- bered places, Sit down beside your hearth once more and look in the dear old faces ! And thank you for the lessons your fifty years are teaching, For honest lives that louder speak than half our , noisy preaching ; For your steady faith and courage in that dark and evil time, When the Golden Rule was treason, and to feed the hungry, crime ; For the poor slave's house of refuge when the hounds were on his track, THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. 8/ And saint and sinner, church and state, joined hands to send him back. Blessings upon you ! What you did for each sad, suffering one, So homeless, faint, and naked, unto our Lord was done ! Fair fall on Kennett's pleasant vales and Long- * wood's bowery ways The mellow sunset of your lives, friends of my early days. May many more of quiet years be added to your sum, And, late at last, in tenderest love, the beckoning angel come. 88 THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. Dear hearts are here, dear hearts are there, alike below, above ; Our friends are now in either world, and love is sure of love. KINSMAN. DIED AT THE ISLAND' OF PANAY (PHILIPPINE GROUP), AGED 19 YEARS. TT 7 HERE ceaseless Spring her garland twines, As sweetly shall the loved one rest, * As if beneath the whispering pines And maple shadows of the West. Ye mourn, O hearts of home ! for him, But, haply, mourn ye not alone ; For him shall far-off eyes be dim, And pity speak in tongues unknown. There needs no graven line to give The story of his blameless youth ; 9 o KINSMAN. All hearts shall throb intuitive, And nature guess the simple truth. The very meaning of his name Shall many a tender tribute win ; The stranger own his sacred claim, And all the world shall be his kin. And therej as here, on main and isle, The dews of holy peace shall fall, The same sweet heavens above him smile, And God's dear love be over all ! VESTA. /^\ CHRIST of God! whose life and death Our own have reconciled, Most quietly, most tenderly Take home thy star-named child ! Thy grace is in her patient eyes, Thy words are on her tongue $ The very silence round her seems As if the angels sung. Her smile is as a listening child's Who hears its mother call ; 92 VESTA. The lilies of Thy perfect peace About her pillow fall. She leans from out our clinging arms To rest herself in Thine ; Alone to Thee, dear Lord, can we Our well-beloved resign ! O, less for her than for ourselves We bow our heads and pray ; Her setting star, like Bethlehem's, To" Thee shall point the way ! THE HEALER. TO A YOUNG^ PHYSICIAN, WITH DORE's PICTURE OF CHRIST HEALING THE SICK. O O stood of old the holy Christ Amidst the suffering throng ; With whom his lightest touch sufficed To make the weakest strong. That healing gift he lends to them Who use it in his name; The power that filled his garment's hem Is evermore the same. For lo ! in human hearts unseen The Healer dwelleth still, 94 THE HEALER. And they who make his temples clean The best subserve his will. The holiest task by Heaven decreed, * An errand all divine, The burden of our common need To render less is thine. The paths of pain are thine. Go forth With patience, trust, and hope ; The sufferings of a sin-sick earth Shall give thee ample scope. Beside the unveiled mysteries Of life and death go stand, With guarded lips and reverent eyes And pure of heart and hand. THE HEALER. 95 So shall thou be with power endued From Him who went about The Syrian hillsides doing good, And casting demons out. That Good Physician liveth yet Thy friend and guide to be ; The Healer by Gennesaret Shall walk the rounds with thee. A CHRISTMAS CARMEN. OOUND over all waters, reach out from all lands, The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands ; Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn, Sing songs of the angels when Jesus was born ! With glad jubilations Bring hope to the nations ! The dark night is ending and dawn has begun : Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one ! A CHRISTMAS CARMEN. 97 II. Sing the bridal of nations ! with chorals of love Sing out the war-vulture and sing in the dove, Till the hearts of the peoples keep time in accord, And the voice of the world is the voice of the Lord! Clasp hands of the nations In strong gratulations : The dark night is ending and dawn has begun ; Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one ! in. Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace ; East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease : Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, Sing of glory to God and of good-will to man ! 98 A CHRISTMAS CARMEN. Hark ! joining in chorus The heavens bend o'er us ! The dark night is ending and dawn has begun ; Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one ! HYMN FOR THE OPENING OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA. A LL things are Thine : no gift have we, Lord of all gifts ! to offer Thee ; And hence with grateful hearts to-day, Thy own before Thy feet we lay. Thy will was in the builders' thought ; Thy hand unseen amidst us wrought ; Through mortal motive, scheme and plan, Thy wise eternal purpose ran. No lack Thy perfect fulness knew ; For human needs and longings grew IOO HYMN. This house of prayer, this home of rest, In the fair garden of the West. In weakness and in want we call On Thee for whom the heavens are small ; Thy glory is Thy children's good, Thy joy Thy tender Fatherhood. O Father ! deign these walls to bless : Fill with Thy love their emptiness: And let their door a gateway be To lead us from ourselves to Thee ! POEMS BY ELIZABETH H. WHITTIER, THE DREAM OF ARGYLE. ARTHLY arms no more uphold him 1 > On his prison's stony floor ; Waiting death in his last slumber, Lies the doomed MacCallum More. And he dreams a dream of boyhood ; Rise again his heathery hills, Sound again the hound's long baying, Cry of moor-fowl, laugh of rills. Now he stands amidst his clansmen In the low, long banquet-hall, Over grim, ancestral armor Sees the ruddy firelight fall. IO4 THE DREAM OF ARGYLE. Once again, with pulses beating, Hears 'the wandering minstrel tell How Montrose on Inverary Thief-like from his mountains fell. Down the glen, beyond the castle, Where the linn's swift waters shine, Round the youthful heir of Argyle Shy feet glide and white arms twine. Fairest of the rustic dancers, Blue-eyed Effie smiles once more, Bends to him her snooded tresses, Treads with him the grassy floor. Now he hears the pipes lamenting, Harpers for his mother mourn, THE DREAM OF ARGYLE. 105 Slow, with sable plume and pennon, To her cairn of burial borne. Then anon his dreams are darker, Sounds of battle fill his ears, And the pibroch's mournful wailing For his father's fall he hears. Wild Lochaber's mountain echoes Wail in concert for the dead, And Loch Awe's deep waters murmur For the Campbell's glory fled ! Fierce and strong the godless tyrants Trample the apostate land, While her poor and faithful remnant Wait for the Avenger's hand. 5* 106 THE DREAM OF ARGYLE. Once again at Inverary, Years of weary exile o'er, Armed to lead his scattered clansmen, Stands the bold MacCallum More. Once again to battle calling Sound the war-pipes through the glen ; And the court-yard of Dunstaffnage Rings with tread of armed men. All is lost ! The godless triumph, And the faithful ones and true From the scaffold and the prison Covenant with God anew. On the darkness of his dreaming Great and sudden glory shone ; THE DREAM OF ARGYLE. IO/ Over bonds and death victorious Stands he by the Father's throne ! From the radiant ranks of martyrs Notes of joy and praise he hears, Songs of his poor land's deliverance Sounding from the future years. Lo, he wakes ! but airs celestial Bathe him in immortal rest, And he sees with unsealed vision Scotland's cause with victory blest. Shining hosts attend and guard him As he leaves his prison door ; And to death as to a triumph Walks the great MacCallum More! LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEPARTURE OF JOSEPH STURGE, AFTER HIS VISIT TO THE ABOLITIONISTS OF THE UNITED STATES. islands of the sunny sea! midst all re- joicing things, No more the wailing of the slave a wild discord- ance brings; On the lifted brows of freemen the tropic breezes blow, The mildew of the bondman's toil the land no more shall know. How swells from those green islands, where bird and leaf and flower Are praising in their own sweet way the dawn of freedom's hour, LINES. 109 The glorious resurrection song from hearts rejoic- ing poured, Thanksgiving for the priceless gift, man's regal crown restored ! How beautiful through all the green and tranquil summer land, Uplifted, as by miracle, the solemn churches stand ! The grass is trodden from the paths where waiting freemen throng, Athirst and fainting for the cup of life denied so long. O, blessed were the feet of him whose generous errand here Was to unloose the captive's .chain and dry the mourner's tear ; 1 10 LINES. To lift again the fallen ones a brother's robber hand Had left, in pain and wretchedness by the way- sides of the land. The islands of the sea rejoice ; the harvest an- thems rise ; The sower of the seed must own 't is marvellous in his eyes ; The old waste places are rebuilt, the broken walls restored, And the wilderness is blooming like the garden of the Lord! Thanksgiving for the holy fruit ! should not the laborer rest, His earnest faith and works of love have been so richly blest ? LINES. 1 1 I The pride of all fair England shall her ocean isl- ands be, And their peasantry with joyful hearts keep cease- less jubilee. p Rest, never ! while his countrymen have trampled hearts to bleed, The stifled murmur of their wrongs his listening ear shall heed, Where England's far dependencies her mighty not wyrcy, know, To all the crushed and suffering there his pitying love shall flow. The friend of freedom everywhere, how mourns he for our land, The brand of whose hypocrisy burns on her guilty hand! 112 LINES. Her thrift a theft, the robber's greed and cunning in her eye, Her glory shame, her flaunting flag on all the winds a lie ! t For us with steady strength of heart and zeal for- ever true, The champion of the island slave the conflict doth renew, His labor here hath been to point the Pharisaic eye Away from empty creed and form to where the wounded lie. How beautiful to us should seem the coming feet of such ! Their garments of self-sacrifice have healing in their touch ; LINES. 113 Their gospel mission none may doubt, for they heed the Masters call, Who here walked with the multitude, and sat at meat with all ! JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. T T E rests with the immortals ; his journey has been long: For him no wail of sorrow, but a paean full and strong ! So well and bravely has he done the work he found to do, To justice, freedom, duty, God, and man forever true. Strong to the end, a man of men, from out the strife he passed ; The grandest hour of all his life was that of earth the last. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. . 115 Now midst his snowy hills of home to the grave they bear him down, The glory of his fourscore years resting on him like a crown. The mourning of the many bells, the drooping flags, all seem Like some dim, unreal pageant passing onward in a dream ; And following with the living to his last and nar- row bed, Methinks I see a shadowy band, a train of noble dead. 'T is a strange and weird procession that is slowly moving on, * The phantom patriots gathered to the funeral of their son ! Il6 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. In shadowy guise they move along, brave Otis with hushed tread, And Warren walking reverently by the father of the dead. Gliding foremost in the misty band a gentle form is there, In the white robes of the angels and their glory round her hair. She hovers near and bends above her world-wide- honored child, And the joy that heaven alone can know beams on her features mild. And so they bear him to his grave in the fulness of his years, True sage and prophet, leaving us in a time of many fears. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 1 1/ Nevermore amid the darkness of our wild and evil day Shall his voice be heard to cheer us, shall his finger point the way. DR. KANE IN CUBA. I A NOBLE life is in thy care, A sacred trust to thee is given ; Bright Island ! let thy healing air Be to him as the breath of Heaven. The marvel of his daring life The self-forgetting leader bold Stirs, like the trumpet's call to strife, A million hearts of meaner mould. Eyes that shall never meet his own Look dim with tears across the sea, DR. KANE IN CUBA. 119 Where from the dark and icy zone, Sweet Isle of Flowers ! he comes to thee. Fold him in rest, O pitying clime ! Give back his wasted strength again ; Soothe, with thy endless summer time, His winter-wearied heart and brain. Sing soft and low, thou tropic bird, From out the fragrant, flowery tree, The ear that hears thee now has heard The ice-break of the winter-sea. Through his long watch of awful night, He saw the Bear in Northern skies ; Now, to the Southern Cross of light He lifts in hope his weary eyes. 120 DR. KANE IN CUBA. Prayers from the hearts that watched in fear, When the dark North no answer gave, Rise, trembling, to the Father's ear, That still His love may help and save. LADY FRANKLIN. thy hands, thy work is over ; Cool thy watching eyes with tears ; Let thy poor heart, over-wearied, Rest alike from hopes and fears, Hopes, that saw with sleepless vision One sad picture fading slow ; Fears, that followed, vague and nameless, Lifting back the veils of snow. For thy brave one, for thy lost one, Truest heart of woman, weep ! 6 122 LADY FRANKLIN. Owning still the love that granted Unto thy beloved sleep. Not for him that. hour of terror When, the long ice-battle o'er, In the sunless day his comrades Death ward trod the Polar shore. Spared the cruel cold and famine, Spared the fainting heart's despair, What but that could mercy grant him ? What but that has been thy prayer ? Dear to thee that last memorial From the cairn beside the sea ; Evermore the month of roses Shall be sacred time to thee. LADY FRANKLIN. 123 Sad it is the mournful yew-tree O'er his slumbers may not wave ; Sad it is the English daisy May not blossom on his grave. But his tomb shall storm and winter Shape and fashion year by year, Pile his mighty mausoleum, Block by block, and tier on tier. Guardian of its gleaming .portal Shall his stainless honor be, While thy love, a sweet immortal, Hovers o'er the winter sea. NIGHT AND DEATH r I ^HE storm-wind is howling Through old pines afar ; The drear night is falling Without moon or star. The roused sea is lashing The bold shore behind, And the moan of its ebbing Keeps time with the wind. On, on through the darkness, A spectre, I pass NIGHT* AND DEATH. 125 Where, like moaning of broken hearts, Surges the grass ! I see her lone head-stone, 'Tis white as a shroud ; Like a pall, hangs above it The low drooping cloud. Who speaks through the dark night And lull of the wind ? 'T is l-he sound of the pine-leaves And sea- waves behind. The dead girl is silent, I stand by her now ; And her pulse beats no quicker, Nor crimsons her brow. 126 NIGHT AND DEATH. The small hand that trembled, When last in my own, Lies patient and folded, And colder than stone. Like the white blossoms falling To-night in the gale, So she in her beauty Sank mournful and pale. Yet I loved her! I utter Such words by her grave, As I would not have spoken Her last breath to save. Of her love the angels In heaven might tell, NIGHT AND DEATH. 127 While mine would be whispered With shudders in hell! 'T was well that the white ones Who bore her to bliss Shut out from her new life t The vision of this. Else, sure as I stand here, And speak of my love, * She would leave for my darkness Her glory above. THE MEETING WATERS. beside the meeting waters, Long I stood as in a dream, Watching how the little river Fell into the broader stream. Calm and still the mingled current Glided to the waiting sea ; On its breast serenely pictured Floating cloud and skirting tree. -s And I thought, " O human spirit ! Strong and deep and pure and blest, THE MEETING WATERS. I2Q Let the stream of my existence Blend with thine, and find its rest ! " I could die as dies the river, In that current deep and wide ; I would live as live its waters, Flashing from a stronger tide ! 6* THE WEDDING VEIL. Anna, when I brought her veil, Her white veil on her wedding night, Threw o'er my thin brown hair its folds, And, laughing, turned me to the light. " See, Bessie, see ! you wear at last The bridal veil, foresworn for years ! " She saw my face, her laugh was hushed, Her happy eyes were filled with tears. With kindly haste and trembling hand She drew away the gauzy mist ; THE WEDDING VEIL. 131 "Forgive,. dear heart!" her sweet voice said : Her loving lips my forehead kissed. We passed from out the searching light ; The summer night was calm and fair: I did not see her pitying eyes, I felt her soft hand smooth my hair. Her tender love unlocked my heart ; 'Mid falling tears, at last I said, " Foresworn indeed to me that veil Because I only love the dead ! " She stood one moment statue-still, And, musing, spake in undertone, *- " The living love may colder grow ; The dead is safe with God alone ! " CHARITY. r I ^HE pilgrim and stranger who through the day Holds over the desert his trackless way Where the terrible sands no shade have known No sound of life save his camel's moan, Hears, at last, through the mercy of Allah to all, From his tent-door at evening the Bedouin's call : " Whoever tJiou art wlicse need is great, In the name of God, the Compassionate And Merciful One, for thee I wait ! " For gifts in His name of food and rest The tents of Islam of God are blest, CHARITY. 133 Thou who hast faith in the Christ above, Shall the Koran teach thee the Law of Love ? O Christian ! open thy heart and door, Cry east and west to the wandering poor : " Whoever thou art whose need is great, In the name of Christ, the Compassionate And Merciful One, for thee I wait ! " THE END. Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co H-lir^o /if t THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SANTA CRUZ This book is due on the last DATE stamped below. 5,'67(H2523s8)2373 3 2106 00208 43