FOREST BUDS, THE WOODS OF MAINE FLORENCE PERCY. .^/U^^ !t^( BOSTON: DROWN, BAZIN & CO. PORTLAND: rilAHOIS BLAKE. 1856. ^i^ i % Entered accordine to act of Congress, in the year 1856, by LIZZIE A. C. I'AYLOK, lu the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. Printed by Bazin & Cliondler, 37 Cornbin, Uoiton. TO ALL WHO LOVE ME. Yi wh:> >UT« nubed mc lioee I cboM Th« path whieli lead] mc ben to-daj. Oft like > child who M>7ing goei. Tripping mad ftambliDg on th« irmjr, — T< whoM twe«t wordi of lore and tnut n«Te chaercd m* when my faith wai dim. Till Bop* roM imiliog from the doit Aad taa( anew her trinmph-bymn, — And J* wboae baoij in friecdrhip tme Hire nercr yet brea elaipcd in mine, — One Boment, while I bring to yon The wreath which I kare dared to twine. No garland faint with rich perfomes To cloy Ibo oenM and charm the brain. Bat timft* bodi and baJf-iped bloomj Bora in th* ragged woods of Maine. I know that 'mid the gorgeou floweti Which happier handi bare colled away Fna Poety'i enftanleil bower*, Tb* garland which I bring to-day b bat a wreath of mgged (tcaj Tied with a few iiaperfeet btooas. ■■fDolia'* rich |nih»e<. DEDICATION. I fling no rare exotics down, Brotliors and sisters at your feet. The dandelion's golden crown. The early snow-drop, low and sweet, The buttercup with sultry hue. The wild-rose sought by dainty bees. Rich clover-blooms and violets blue, And the pink snow of orchard-trees Are here; — the arbutus that hides Among dead leaves and sprouting brakes. Sweet nameless flowers from river-sides And lilies from our northern lakes. And as a traveller far away From northern scenes and northern loves. Grows faint with breathing day by day The fragrant breath of spicy groves — Grows tired of blossoms rich and bright. Such as ft tropic summer knows. And welcomes with a deep delight The perfume of a sweet home-rose, — Or pained by the bewildering songs Of eastern birds with gorgeous wings. Turns wearily away and longs To hear the strain our robin sings, Mayhap some hearts will turn away From songs more lofty and divine, And tired of a sublimcr lay Will listen for a while to mine. C N T !•; N T S ADA 9 MAY 13 I I.OVE THEE, IC 11 Y THE RIVEIS-SIDE, 17 A JCNE SHOWER, 20 DUOWXEH, 22 THE ANfiEL OF PATIENCE, 24 THE FOREST 20 THE SnilNr, BY THE cnERHY TREE, 34 FLOWN 37 THE ANSWERED TRAYER, 39 WINTER, 41 FROST PICTURES, 41 NO MORE, 47 THE ilOrsEHOLD SAINT, 48 THIS MORNING, 50 TESTERDAT, 62 THE CHEERFUL HEART, 54 NOVEMBER S7 flouence's birth-day, 58 MARCH, Gl CLOVER-BLOSSOMS, G3 TO ONE DEPARTED, 64 TWO, CG TWENTY-ONE, 6S A DRY DITTY, 70 THE BENT OF THE TWIG, 73 THE WHITE DOVE, 74 A LULLABY, 77 THY BLESSING, 79 THE SUNKEN ROCK, 81 THE UNBIDDEN GUEST, 83 TWENTY'-TWO, 85 MAGIC MIRRORS, 88 THE HAUNTED RIVER, 89 CHARMED, 93 WHERE CHARLIE DIED, 94 THE MINSTREL, 96 DANDELIONS, 99 THE HAND IN MINE, 100 AGAIN, 102 MY WORLD, 104 RESIGNATION, 108 BETTER THAN BEAUTY, Ill SEVENTEEN, 113 "THE GOOD TIME COMING," 115 ALLIE, 116 ONE NIGHT, 118 "TRUK LOVE CAN NE'ER KORUET," 121 TO MV XAlIi:SAKF.. 123 TO A SINGER, 124 TO ONE OF I.ITTLE FAITH, 126 TWICE-TOI.I) 127 A PORTRAIT 128 MT WIFE AXD CIIILP, 129 RE-INITED, 132 TO-DAT 136 niPARTIALITT 137 BOTH SIDES OF THE (JLESTION, 139 THE LIVING, Ill LET ME IN 143 TO AN IDEAL, 145 OK ONE BELOVED, 147 ALMOST AN ANGEL, 149 THE BROKEN HOME, 150 THE PANTRY, 153 MT NAMh:, 155 TOU AND ME 157 OUR AUTCMX, 1 CO M V BABIES, 1 62 A nUACE OK SONNETS 165 EVELYN 167 THE AWAKENING, 172 IN VAIN, 174 STREET MUSIC 177 THE APRIL BEEEZE, 178 PICTURES OF MEMORY, 18y, Anil my spirit sprinprs up, like ;\ wiW-Iiird, To the lii-.-t suniiner-bhie of the y his eye is seen In visible ehanietei-s of living green. I'liyokeil the oxen stand. The cool rjiin plashing on tlieir heaving sides, And with wide nostrils breathe the fragrant tides Of breezes flowing bland, — Then as thongh sated with the odor sweet, C'l-op the new gross that springs beneath their feet. Sweet is the gladsome song Which the yonng birds sing in the summer time. The wind's soft voice, the river's wavy chime Flowing in joy along, — But dearer far to me the pleasant tune Sung by the rain-drops in the month of June. DROWNED. Pale and ilrooping as a bruised lily Lies he 'mid the river-grasses chilly, Like a fragile zephyr-wafted blossom Rocked to rest upon the river's bosom. Raise him gently from the tangled rushes ; No soft life-glow now his pale face flushes, And his lip's warm hue is quenched forever, By the envious kisses of the river. Part the wet curls from his marble forehead, AVhich so soon death's icy cluU hath borrowed, Let the little hands, so smoothly moulded. Softly on the quiet breast be folded. Press the waxen lids serenely over Tlie blue orbs they seem so loth to cover, — Lay siround the fair face, cold and pearly, Fragile buds, and blooms that perish early. UKOWNKD. l,ct 111) tciir-ili-ops oil your hislics glisten, — With faith's sternly strength look up luul listen ; Hear ye not the songs of the iniinortal.s AVelcoiniiig his soul to glory's i)ortal>? With soft steps and hearts subilued ami lowly, Leave him to his slumbers pure and holy, Weep not over heart-strings eriished and riven, Mourn not for a soul down home to heaven ! THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE. Beside tlie toilsome way Lonely and dark, by fruits and flowers unblest, Which my worn feet tread sadly, day by day, Longing in vain for rest. An angel softly walks, With pale sweet face, and eyes cast meekly down, The while from withered leaves and flowerless stalks She weaves my fitting crown. A sweet and patient grace, A look of firm einlnrancc. tiiu; and tried. Of suffermg nu-clJv Ir.ini''. iisls on her face So pure — ^o glnrilieil. And when my fiiinting heart Desponds and murmurs at its adverse fate. Then quietly the angel's bright lips part, Murmurinsc softlv, '• Wait ! TIIK AXOKL or KATIKXCE. 2.) ' Patience ! ' she sweetly saitli, — Tlic Fatlier's mercies never come too late ; (lird tliee with patient strength and trustinj; faith. And firm endurance, — wait!" Anffel ! hehold, I wait, Wearing; the thorny crown through all life's hours, — Wait till thy hand shall ope the eternal pate, And chaiiTC the thom? to flowers ! THE FOREST. In my childhood's April days, Ere I learned life's deeper meaning, - AVhen I walked in pleasant ways, Flowers amid the brambles gleaning,- AVhile unspoiled by frost or blight "Was my heart's unshadowed centre, And its fulness of delight Left no room for grief to enter, — When earth seemed a blissful clime, Full of joy and pleasant duty, And my pulse was beating time To the songs of love and beauty, — Fanciful — companionle^s, Heart and brain with visions teeming Solitude and loneliness Taught to me the art of dreaming. Many a bright imagining. Many a fair prophetic vision Came on fancy's tireless wing. Clad in hues almost elysian. THE FOUEST. And my favorite drcaming-plaoc AVas an old and shadowy forest ; — Oh, how oft in later days, When my heart is throbbing sorest. And life's burning desert-sand Painfully my won> feet parches, Think I of that faii-j- land. With its cool and winding arches, In the deep and fragrant shade All unbrokenly enfolden. Save when sportive winds which played ' Jlid the forest nionarchs olden, Did the yielding branches woo To and fro with gentle power. And the sun-rays drifted through In a diuzling golden shower. Seldom by a human sound Was the wood's deep quiet broken, And the solitude profound Gave of human life no token. Nature, sabbath-like and calm Smiling at her own eompletenes.«, Breathing quietude and balm, Sleeping in a trance of sweetness, Did a mystic charm impart To the dim and shadowy pleasance. Seeming to my childish lieart Like a high majestic presence. THE FOREST. Very lovely was the wood At the summer's early coming, Wlien the breathing solitude Was one sweet and ceaseless humming; — Then the maples, gnarled and old. Veiled in moss, like ancient castles, Did their rugged limbs enfold In a robe of crimson tassels ; — Then a warmer, sunnier hue INIingled with the pine's dark fringes, And the green buds melted through The dark hemlock's sombre tinges ; Then the willow's bending stems Were with downy blossoms sprinkled, And the winter-green's bright gems In the bright leaves smiled and twinkled ; Then the snow-drop sought to hide, ■WTience the winds their fragrance borrowed. Like a young and bashful bride With bright dew-pearls on her forehead ; And the timid violet Sprang amid the mosses tender. With its cup all dewy wet Drooping on its stem so slender, — Like a heart bereft of cheer, O'er some hidden sorrow pLaing, Smiling, even while a tear In its veiled depths enshrining. THE FOREST. Binls tliore were, a eoiintless throng Making in the w(kh1 their d\vellin>.', Breaicing into fitrul song Tales of love jvnd gladness telling ; There the joyous wood-lark sprung From his nest, at morning's l)reaking. Drops of dew, like pearls luistrung, From his trembling pinions shaking. And amid the bireh-trce toi)s Swinging, warbled, all a-quiver. Notes like ringing shower-droijs On the bosom of a river ; Then the cuekoo timidly Hidden in some lofty hollow, Wove its sweet monotony With the ehirjiing of the swallow, — And the bright-winged goldfinch came Darting from the reedy meadows, Glancing like a jet of fliime. In and out among the shadows, — Anring gushed purely uj). The source of a menily hiughing brook ; — A gnarled old cherry-tree's heavy bough Drooped o'er it with leaves of shining green, — Methinks I can almost see them now, With the sunbeams sifting down between ! 'Twas there I gathered the eglantine. Its fragrance flooding the heavy air. And the delicate stems of the celandine. With its gem-like flowers so brightly fiiir ; — And playfully shook from the honied cells. The drowsy bees which were humming there. Then weaving in wreaths the golden bells Laughingly twisted them in my hair; And there the beautiful violets grew. With fnignint breath and varjing dyes, — How fondly I likened their gentle blue To the hue of my mother's loving eyes ! Ah. often I've stootl by that cool, deep spring Till my bare feet sunk in the yielding moss. And watched on the surface, the glimmering ( )f the broken light as it flashed across ; — Or gazed far down to the circling rocks. Where the sparkling pebbles would glance and shine. And a glad face shaded by golden locks, Was rogiiishly jR-eping up at mine, — THE SPRING BY THE CHERRY TREE. ( )h, I almost doubt, as I sadly trace The changes which time has wrought in me. That mine is the same bright happy face That shone in the spring by the chcrry-trcc I For now could I gaze, as in days of yore, III the answering depths of that limpid wave, Ahis ! it would give me back no more The pleasant picture that then it gave ; — The fearless gladness that childhood wears Would shine no more on the sunny brow, For the cares and sorrows of darker years Have shadowed its careless brightness now : And never again will my mirrored face Beam half so brightly and joyously, As the laughing one I was wont to trace In the crystal spring by the cherry-tree ! FLOWN. A iiKAiTiFrL binllinfT iiiaclo its nest In my tliirk ami lonely heart. And I tonilly elierished my welcome re depart. I gazed ill the soft bewililering deeps Of its young unshadowed eyes, — They were calm as the wave where a sunbciun sleeps, They were pure as the dew that the lily weeps. And bright as the brightest star which keeps Its wateh in tiie midnight skies. Its gushing voice was as sweet and clear As the lays of seraphs blest : — In meloily on my raptured ear It fell, like songs from a holier sphere. With a wondnnis power to soothe and cheer My spirit's wild unrest. 38 And I watched above it with fond delight, Till once on a quiet even, It spread its beautiful wings in flight And floated away from my longing sight. Slow melting into the distance bright Like a star in the morning heaven. From the first sweet song of the early lark, Till now, when on hill and plain. The shadows of night foil dim and dark, I liave waited, its homeward flight to mark, But the dove gone forth from my heart's lone ark, Returneth not again. And now I listen, alas, in vain, Through the sad and cheerless hours. For the cleiir wild notes of its gushing strain To fall on my waiting ear again. As the grateful drops of the summer rain On the faint and di-ooping flowers. No longer it gladdens my weai-y breast, As in happy days of yore. Or soothes my soul to a quiet rest With its thrilling music, so sweet and blest, — For the bird gone forth from my jieart's warm nest. Returns, alas, no more ! THE ANSWERED PRAYER. A srviDKN kiu'lt in Iut chanibtM- At the quiet close of day, And pnijed for her absent lover On the dark blue sea away. She prayed for his safe returning, So vainly looked for yet, — • (Jh, grant," she said, *• I may meet him Ers the morrow's sun shall set ! " The stormy night shut darkly Afar o'er the raging sea, Where the bark of the absent lover Lay drifting hopelessly. Tlip angrily dashing billows Called loudly to the sky, And the wind-god, fiercely raving, Howled back a harsh reply. TUE ANSWERED PRAYER. And, bravest of all the seamen. "Was seen that lover's form, Till the wrecked dismantled vessel Went do-svn in the raging storm. The maiden stirred in her slumbers, And whispered murmuringlj-, "While a smile passed over her features " Dearest, I come to thee ! " The beams of the rising morning O'er the tranquil ocean swept, But deep in its quiet bosom The pale-browed lover slept. At the maiden's vine-wreathed lattice Came in the rosy light. But it fell on a pulseless bosom, And a face aU still and white. AVlij- lieth the gentle maiden So silently cold and fair? The Father, in love and mercy. Hath granted her evening prayer ! WINTER. ' T IS the brifrlit and joyous scai^on. Ever fraught with glee and mirth. Bringing happiness and plenty To the glad and grateful earth. And a ring of loving faces round the warm and sparkling hearth. And the long bright winter evening Passes merrily away, ■\\niile the quaint and varying shadows On the ceiling dance and jtlay. And e.ich radiant face grows brighter in the fire-light's rosy ray- But my heart hath known no gladness Since the autumn's breezy hours, ■\Vith their chill resistless breathing, Swe])t the bloom fi-oni summer's bowers. And the frost a.s coldly g-athered on my heart as on the flowers. For my spirit sadly muses On the loved and early lost, On the many hopes and wishes By despair all coldly crossed, N'anislicd now, alas ! forever, — nipt like blossoms in a frost ! And the shrine where first and freshest Were my wrecked affections strowii. Is a lone deserted grave-yard, Where, when autumn leaves were brown, S/ie. the star of my existence, from my heart went coldly down ! Griefs that Ijind no more fier spirit, Closely still my own enslave, — Wilder storms than beat above her In my bosom darkly rave. And the chillinp; snow-drifts deepen on my heart as on her grave. For alas ! the flowcrless summer Of my blighted life is o'er. And tliougli spring to earth's cold bosom Will the bud and bloom restore. Well I know the spring will brigliti'u in my frozen heart no more. As till' lono !inugh the davkne^s of my \\.\y. To when' griefs and cares and trials All, shall vanish in the ray Of the spirit's heavenly dawning, — of the soul's ui day! FROST-PICTURES. The fro>t-king liatli clad the forest In a garb of icy mail, And left on the panes of the windows, A white translucent veil. Oh, a rare and radiant pencil And a skilful hand hath he. And none may mock or rival His magical imagery. Come hither ye sweet-voiced prattlers, AVho mourn for the summer lost, — Come hither .and see what beauties Are born of the winter's frost. ' T is a scene in the northern regions, "Where through the lingering night, The mystical borealis Is lending its waving light. KI!0*T-IMCTlRKS. WliiTe thu slcilge ami the floot-paood rciiulc OVr the glittering snow-pallis go, Ami llie bemling boiiglis of the lir-trecs Are iieavy with clinging snow. Where the wooh back the sunshine Fi-om their load of glistening gems, And clusters of glancing crystals Depend from the swaying stem*. And afar in the frigid distance. The glaciers crash and fall. And ranks of towering icebergs Form a strong and mivssivc wall. But the waywanl painter wearied Of his first imagining. And bordeivd his wintry landscape With the leaves and flowers of spring. Ahis, for the radiant picture 80 truly and brightly drawn. One smile of the winter sunshine Hath touched it, and it is gone. As fade, in our after being The fancies and hopes of youth. Or as vanish the shades of error In the dawning light of truth. FROST-PICTURES. Xo trace of the beauteous picture On the weeping pane appears, But mountain and plain and forest Have melted in lucid tears. Tims ever our blissful drcamings Of the bright and blessed ideal, Are scattered in tears and sadness By the stem, remorseless real ! NO MORE. WiiF.x life has sniloil far down time's diiikcning stream, Anil silvery threiids amid brown tivsses gleam, 'Tis mournful to know the heart's summer-time o'er. Anil that never a blossom will bloom in it more. Hul 't is sadder to know, at youth's bright morning hour. Kre the sun-rays have kissed the fi-esh dew from the flowei' That love, hoiic and gladness are meaningless wiirtN, And that life mu.-'t heneeforth be like June without liinls TIE HOrSEHOlB SAI5T. Thoc wiiee sweet presence is Trah me now, Tbon whose light breathing fims mr brow, — A-g drifts niT hearts's di^namieii ark O'er Eft's wide ocean, so (Em and daai. Thou. oh. dum art the whice-winged dov* Bringing die oEreJeaTes of love I Thine, my own, is the only eye ThiU never hath looked an me carelessly, — Thine are die only Eps. my bird. "Which have given me never an onkind ward. And thine is the only heart, whiti stiH Loves on. Trnr-hnTttrintr , diTouch sood and in. JSever upon thy beaming &ce Has passon or sorrow le& its aace. Never a ^ladow of an or care Dimmed tiie Bghi on thy forehead fiiir. For thou art as pure and from guile as free As tjie shJTiint ones who wjiit fisr tbee ! Tms HorsmoLD sjubtt. TTUeikf I Ottf pts^eu fioM ay fest arise, WiMa I gaK ki tkr holj «T». Fraa Ike pccxMC of tratli aid pvkj. THIS MORNING. Morning comes, and with rosy fingers Pai-ting her misty locks away, Binds them back with a golden arrow, — Then like a laughing child at play. Waving the folds of her radiant garments, Sweeps the stars from the path of day. Thou of the broad and thoughtful forehead. Over the calm reflective eyes, Shruiing a deep unworldly meaning Under the shadow that in them lies. Let us forget life's jar and discord. Listening to Nature's harmonies. Let us go where the bending branches Closest, coolest together press, "VMiere the leaves with their loving fingers Touch my forehead in mute caress — Come, for the heart that loads my bosom Aches with its heavy emptiness. THIS MOKNINH. Lightly the pUimes of cherry-blossoms Di^p their snow as we wmuler by, Sweetly the bright waves talk together, Sweetly the willow boughs reply, Fringing the brink of the smiling river ^Vs laches shadow a clear blue eye. Softly the elm's low drooping tresses Swing and wave, by the south-wind stirred. Lightly the bireh-tree's airy branches Tremble under the singing bird; Sweetly the river's dreamy murmur Comes like an oft-repeated word. Weary of worldly care and bustle. Oh, I deem it a blessed Iwon Thus to rest where the rippling water Singetli ever n lulling tune, While with its soft continuous murmur Mingle the myriad songs of dune. YESTERDAY. A.N angel passed me yesterday, With snowy wings and floating liair. As slowly on my devious way I went, in darkness and despair. Strange how my heait could be so cold "Wlien that sweet angel-face was nigh ! I might have caught her robe's light fold As airly it floated by, — I might have kissed the sun-bright flow Of curls across my forehead blown. Or gazed upon the haloed brow Wliose radiance lighted up my own. And yet I stood in mute surprise Till all the vision passed away. Nor once upraised my dazzled eyes, Isor oped my lips to whisper, " Stay ! " YK8TERDAY. Ami slowly ft-oni my misty sight Did the sweet visitant depart, — The angel-guest whose presence might Have re-illumed my darkened heart. lUit all, its mcniDry liaunts me yil, — . And musing I can only say, With starting tears of vain regret, •• An angel jia^sed me yestenlay ! " THE CHEERFUL HEART. Some deem the world a dreary place, Devoid of all redeeming merits, But oil, it wears another fiice To cheerful and contented spirits ! Why ever dim joy's brightest rays, By gloomy fears of coming sorrows ? I always cheat the cloudy days With hopeful thoughts of hapi)ier morrows. 'T is true that '• all things bright must fade " - That autumn's stern resistless powers, With chilling wind and freezmg shade Will blast the leaves and blight the flowers : For the departed summer's prime Let other hearts be vainly )'eaniing. But tlu-ough the snows of winter time. I gladly watch for its returning. 'Tis true life's sorrows every day Seem almost to outweigh its pleasures. And death full often steals away The trusting heart's most cherished treasun THE CUKKltFlI. Ill: ART. Let olliors niouri) one dear one less And wildly wocp o'er heart-strings riven, 1 cjiiiy joy that I possess Another lovin"; friend in heaven! — 'T is true the friends are sadly few On whom we lean with tnist unshaken. And oft o'er those we faneied true, Faith sighs to find herself mistaken. 1 yield not to one vain regret, When wayward fate hath so bereft me. But only love more fondly yet The dear ones still so kindly left me. Thougli hope may cease to sing awhile. And joy's sweet light seem slowly paling, ' T is better far to wear a smile. For sighs and tears are unavailing. Let other's weep that bright dreams fade. And. weekly wearing sorrow's fetter. Forever seek life's gloomiest shade, — I love its cheering sunshine better ! — What though my lot of pain and toil Be lowlier than my prouder brother's ? What thougli I lieai) no golden spoil. The envy and the hate of others ? TUE CHEERFUL HEART. Lot Others seek the shining road, And walk with mammon's worldlj- minions, - I joy that I've no wealth to load To earth my spirit's heavenward pinions ! Brightly may glisten glory's light, Xo envy in my bosom waking, For Fame's proud wreath, though fair to sight, Oft blooms above a heart that's breaking. The monarch's crown I covet not, And only pity those who wear it, Desiring with my humble lot Only a cheerful heart to bear it ! NOVEMBER. I\ the chill shadow of tlie songlcss wood, Of late so musical in the summer air, Sits autumn, in her lonely soliludi-. Hiding her sad face with her nut-brown hair. Crowned not with the bright garland she li.is worn In the sweet light of the October d.ijs. For winter's hand the wreath has rudely toni. Blighted and faded, from its resting-place. With angry haste he tears away its leaves, Crusliing its flowers beneath his icy tread. Then, half-repenting his unkindness, weaves A band of pearb around her drooping head. Alas the git\ has chilled her to the heart ; — And now with gentle touch and breathings low. I le lays tlie brown locks from her face apart. And wraps her in a winding-sheet of snow. FLORENCE'S BIRTH-DAY. • Flokence, wake ! " the birds are calling Brushing witli their wings the dew, But the words wliich they are saying None may know but me and you. ' T is your birth-day morning, dearest, And the warbling songsters say, • Baby Florence, darling Florence, Two years old to-day ! " Ah, no father's lip may bless you, — He is o'er the sea away ; TVould his fond eyes might behold you. Would he could be here to-day ! Could his loving arms enfold you. Do you know what he would say ? • Baby Florence, darling Florence, Two years old to-day ! " FtOKEXCES IlIllTII-DAY. Never mother's licart clung closolicr To her cliilil tlian mine to you, Gem of love's bright broken eircle, Fresh and guileless, — pure and true ! Will life's thousand cares and changes Lure your heart from mine away ? Baby Florence, darling Florence, Two yciu-s old to-»lay ! Ah. my heart looks forward sadly To the path your feet must tread; — Would it might be strown with roses, And their thorns be mine instead ! Happy one! no dark misgivings Make your merry heart less gay ; — Baby Florence, darling Florence, Two years old to-tlay ! And I will not dim the present. By foreboding future woe ; Grief and joy in life are mingled AViscly, since God wills it so. And there is a watchful angel Who will hover round your way ; Baby Florence, darling Florence, Two years old to-day ! FLORENCES BIRTU-DAY. I will tnist you with the Shepherd, Who, whene'er His young lambs faint, Folds them softly in His bosom. Soothing every wailing plaint ; For I know His hand will lead you Safely through life's perilous way ; Baby Florence, darling Florence, Two years old to-day ! MARCH. Ir i- Martli, — llie month of .-^now-diirts and of bltak and boisterous weatlicr, Wlien the winter bills defiance to the s])ring, l!ut on tiiis delightful morning they walk smilingly together, Lover-like, but with no lover's quarreling. For tlie mom !ks out in beauty, and the frojit's cnainiliil painting On the pane, is slowly melting in the sun, — On the white hills in the distance, soft the foggy haze i- fainting. From the eaves the ilrops are dripping, one by one. .M<>s.-.y knolls on yonder hill-side from the sinking sno« are |H>eping, And the sunliglit rests there lovingly and fair. And an April bn-eze that wooingly from yonder wckmI i- sweeping. Tells of young buds on the maple branches tliert-. I can close my eyes, and fancy as I feel upon my forehead The fragrant wind, and hear its pleasant tune, Tliat it is a summer zephyr, and its balmy breath is bor- rowed From the blossoming and budding of young June. CLOVER BLOSSOMS. I "vE rend of roses till I tire of thcra, Of (liifTodils and myrtle-blossoms too, — I M rather liuve ii fresh, sweet, home-like gem Like tliis I liold, unhaekncyod, pure and new; — My tiuste is rude ; — I like not hot-house flowers, — Art, more than nature, breathes in their perfume ; Tliey are unlike these children of the showers As carmine is unlike a natural bloom, l\H)r exiles, city-boni and city-bi-ed. They tell no tales of nature's dewy bowers; — Were I a bride, this morning to be wed, I'll slight those everlasting " onuige-flowei's," t )f which, since Eve was bride, we've heard and read, Ai\d loop the bridal veil with clover-blooms instead ! TO ONE DEPARTED. Ix the soft and pale spiiiig sunlight, In the summer's changing hues, — In the ringing of the raiii-drops, In the dropping of the dews, Comes a gentle spirit-whisper Floating dreamily to me. In its soft and soul-like accents, Mui-muring, lost one, of thee ! In the streamlet's gushing laughter. In the night-wind's wailing moan, In the breeze-rocked forest's music. In the wild-bird's gladsome tone, Still I hear that low sweet breatlxing From the harp of memory, On its viewless pinions bringing Dearest one, a thought of thee ! In the wild-bee's drowsy humming, ' Jlid the summer's flowermg vines. In the spirit-like complaining Of the wind among the pines, — TO ONE DKrARTKU. Ill tlio iliousiuul dreamy voices Ot" (he earth and of the sea, Cometh still that haunting whisper, Murmuring, lost one, of thee ! In the ocean's surging murmur, As its ceaseless song it weaves, - In the light and plaj-lul rustle Of the wind among the leaves, — Wheresoe'er niv footsteps wander Cometh still that voice to me. Like a sweet resounduig echo. Murmuring ever, love, of thee ! TWO. I AM the foot-stalk and she is the flower, — I am the lattice and she is tlie vine ; My heart's a thirsty waste, — hers is the shower Bringing refre filing and gladness to mine. Siie is a scnlptured dome. — I, tlie harsh granite ; — Siie is the virgin gold, — I, the rongh ore ; — She is a perfect and beautiful plant, I am the nebulous chaos of yore. She is a living form ; I am the marble "Which 'ncath the chisel, may image her charms ; - My music breathes of art ; — hers is the warble Borne up to heaven, in the morning's blue calms. Her mind, a polished gem, needs no attrition. Mine is crude, shapeless, as won from the soil ; She, by a natural and easy transition. Grows to the grace that I reach but by toil. Mine is a power acquired, — hers was bora with her, ■ Mine is a studied charni, — hers is her own ; Slie looks dvicn on the world, — I look up thither, — I stand with thousands, but she stands alone. I am the canvas whereon may be painted Shapes of strange beauty, — conceptions sublime,— She a rare picture, — pure, beautiful, sainted, Sketched by the Master, to live for all time. She is a spring ; — I, the rock that stands by it ; She is the cjilm bright sky, — I am the sea. Mirroring softly its pure starry quiet ; — This is the diflerence in my love and me ! TWENTY-ONE. Twenty-one ! 't is yet youth's early uioriiing, — Life's real, earnest strife is but begun, — Yet there falls a stem mysterious warning O'er my soul, as clouds across the sun, And a voice says, " 'Work ere day be done ! " Twenty-one ! and silently before me, Shade of the dead Past, I see thee rise ; — Cast not now thy mournful presence o'er me, Turn not on me thy reproachful eyes ! Darkly on my heart their meaning lies. For they ask me — " Hast thou raised one altar To the Spirit of the Good and True ? "Wherefore do thy footsteps idly falter Thus at duty's gate, and pass not througli, Wliile there yet remains so much to do ? " TWENTY-ONE. It is tlmt my weak liands have no power, Ami I ctuinot labor as I would ; Lacking eloquence, and genius' dower, How can I achieve a single good? How be heard among the multitude ? Rouse thee, heart, from thine inactive slumber ! Even the humblest has a sphere to fiU, And the deeds of every hour I number Help to swell the tide of good or ill ; — Rouse ! thy sloth may be atoned for still ! If I cause one heart to beat more lightly, If I soothe a grief or ease a pain. If I make one tearful eye beam brightly. With the light of happiness again, I shall not have labored all in vain. A DRY DITTY. On, tlierc has been a weary time Of beat and dust and blight, Since rain has blest the earth, and fringed The leaves -vvith drops of light. The river, shrunken in its bed, Keeps sadly murmuring, — The frogs are silent all the night, They have no heart to sing ! Men make strange faces at the sky, And " think it looks like rain " — Ah, that their hopeful prophecies Are ventured all in vam ! That " all signs fail in time of drought," They willingly allow. And weather-wisdom everywhere Is at a discoimt now ! On the parched roofs the shingles warp ; — The cisterns all are dry ; — The very spouts along the eaves Ya>vn half-reproachfully ; A DRY niTTY. And whtn to (im the piisscrs-by, A cwling breeze is given, Diist-douds, lilic a remonstnuicc, rise Iinploringly to heaven. Ladies walk out, as, mill or sliino, They always will and must, But even their light loot-falls niise A choking whirl of dust. Low slippers lose their witchery. White hose look sadly dim, And little feet with gaiter-boots Are in a sorry trim. Come to the thirsty earth, oh, rain I Come to the yellow grass ! Come to the crisped leaves, that curl. Dry nistling, as I pass ! Come, that all green things may rejoice ! Come, that the patient boat Moored where the river used to be. M.-iy be once more afloat I Come that the school-boys, who erewhiie JIopc listless through the street. May wade along in road-side ponds. And wash their dusty feet ! A DRY DITTY. Let mothers scold o'er muddy clothes, And warning thi-eats repeat, Boys never can be boys but once, And rain is such a treat ! Come rain, dear rain ! 'mid nature's friends I prize thee most of all ; — Alas, that one who loves thee so Could glory in thy fall ! — Joy ! — one of larger faith than I, Most trustingly maintains That " that after such a drought as this, It almost always rains ! " 78 THE BENT OF THE TWIG- TiiK moon is out in beauty, silvering Hill, field and forest with her iey light, And i»s I gaze, a tiny, toddling thing. With pattering feet, and faee upraised and bright. Climes to my side; — I raise her in my arms Plaeing her feet upon the window-sill, And long she gazes on the liuidscapc's charms. Laughing as lUl delighted babies will : t Jrasps at the stars, wliieh far in dizzy space. Lie thick ai blossoms in the lap of June, — Tlien with lips parted, and uplifti'd face, liaises her anus and tries to kiss the moon. '• Jft)w soon" says one whose face I just discover, " That child, like all her sex, atpires to things above her ! 74 THE WHITE DOVE. Over the misty mountains, Over the sounding sea, Fiir through the dreamy distance Came a white dove to me. Sorrow upon my harp-strings Lay like corroding rust, Darkly hope's holy radiance Faded, an empty trust, — Till my o'erburdened spirit, Wildered by doubts and fears, Saw only clouds and darkness Dimly, through falling tears, — Wlien over tlic misty mountains, Over the surging sea, Far through the dreamy distance, Came a white dove to me. TIIK WHITE 1>0VK. Spoko I ill trcn>l)liiif; whispers Thus to the spirit-binl : — ' Who in the land of shadows, Who hath my phiiniiig hoard ? Art thou some frii-iul di'parti'd, Come to my heart agjiiii ? " And a sweet voice rose clearly. Soft as the summer rain : — "Over llie misty mountains. Over the sounding sea. Far through the dreamy distance, Lone one, I come to thee ! • I am no friend departed Over life's mystic main. Coming in clouds and darkness Back to thy heart again ; — I am the might, the power, Conqueror all al)Ove, I ant the joy, the sunshine Lighting earth's darkness, — Lovo ! '• And over the misty mountains. Over the surging sea. Far through the dreamy distance, Lone one, I come to thee ! " THE WHITE DOVE. Then the white dove which never, Never will more depart, Folded its snowy pinions Over my gladdened heart ; Thrillingly sweet and gentle Is the low song it sings — " Rest thee, thou weary spirit. Under my shielding wings ! " Over the misty mountains, Over the sounding sea. Far through the dreamy distance Came a wliite dove to me ! A LULLABY. Come to my bosom, my only, my own, Thou from whose forehead heaven's light hath not flown, Time hath not yet, with his pinions of gloom. Scattered thy young heart's first beautiful bloom, — Tliou art unchilled by the shadows of years, Tliou hast not gathered life's harvest of tears ; — Fondly I chu<|) thee, beloved, in my arms, — Freshness and purity, — these arc thy charms! Roses are sweetest when j)artly blown. Love is most blessed wlion scarcely known, Life is brightest when just begun. And thus are all dear things, beloved one ! But my heart, as thy tiny form I press, '\Vhis|)ers — '•! never can love thee less!" Wiien summer's fierce heats in the sultiy air quiver, T is cheering to list to the cool sound of a river. And thus to my heart comes the voice of thy laughter, Witli its frc?h ri]>pling gush,, and its sweet echo after. 78 A LULLADT. 'Jly love, like a vine, clasps its tendrils about thee, And desolate, lone, were my being without thee ; Oh, we'll walk hand in hand through life's changeable weather, And when death's summons comes, we'll obey it together ! Jloming is brightest when it is breaking, Music is sweetest just at its waking. Stars are most beautiful when first they glimmer. Time renders all bright things colder and dimmer ; God keep thy heart, through life's trials estranging. Constant and spotless, — unchanged and unchanging ! "Weary of life's dull monotonous hum. Till my tired heart siulis, all voiceless and dumb. Weary of following one dreary way Aimless and passionless, day after day, Gladly to greet thee my worn spirit flies, Light of my loneliness, — star of my skies ! Fondly I chisp thee again in my arms, — Frcslmess and purity — these are thy chiirms ! Roses are sweetest when partly blown, Love is most blessed when scarcely known, Life is brightest when just begun, And thou art now loveliest, dearest one ! But my fond heart breathes, as I kiss thy brow, " I never can love thee less than now ! " THY BLESSING. I CANNOT conip to tliio iui in llip Jays Ix)n<; past, but not for-jotteii ; — I have been Since then tliivugh many dark and dreary way- Thix»ugh much of" care, and weariness, and sii Thy path lies calmly 'mid the pastures green And the still waters of the better land, While vainly yearning for that rest serene, My feet still press life's buniing desert-sand. And yet, in spirit and in truth I come To crave thy blessing, ere I wander far Across the waste of ocean's plashing foam, Obedient to my chosen guiding-star. And by n gentle faith, which long hath shed Its mdianec on a i)athway dim and cold, I feel thy shadowy hand U[)on my head. And hear thy whis|>ered blessing as of old. TUT BLESSING. il)- glail heart rises every fear above, Strengthened by the inspiring words to say, - ' I will be true to duty and to love. And follow wheresoe'er they lead the way ! " THE SUNKEN ROCK. She liiiincheil her boat at break of day, And o'er the waters sailed away. ' Oil pray," she said, '• no billow dark May whelm me and my little bark !" • Oh may no temiK>st's mg^ing wrath Sweep wildly o'er my watery path. No eloud the elear sky darken o'er, Until I reaeh the other shore ! " The sea was smooth, the sky was fair. And softly breathed the wafting air. And leaning o'er the vessel's side. The maiden watched the waves divide. And heard the soft contiuous note Sung by the waters round her Iwat. While flakes of foam, like lilies, lay Whitely along the rippling way. THE SUNKEN ROCK. Then sung the maiden joyfully, • There's not a cloud to dim the sky, How pleasantly, the bright waves o'er, I hasten to the other shore ! " When lo ! with rude and stunning shock. The frail keel struck a sunken rock. And though no cloud the calm sky crossed. The maiden and the boat were lost ! And as the fated bark went down, A voice the waters could not drown, Said — " Fear thou not the tempest's shock, But oh, beware the sunken rock ! " THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. JIiKTii mill music are here to-night, Rod lips inurmiir and bright ej'cs glance, Foi-ms of beauty with motion light Float and whirl in the dizzy dance. I'p and down in a living stR'am Winds the waltz like a wreath of flowers, Rich robes rustle and white amis gleam, Light feet fall like tJie beat of showers. Yonder, there where the shadow lies. Pale and earnest a face aj)pears, Gazing at nie with steady eyes. Eyes whose brightness is that of tears. See ye, pay ones, the pale sad face. Gazing f«irth from the shadow there ? Can it be that the form I trace Is no other than empty air? THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. Lightly, brightly, the dance whirls by. Pausing not where the shadow lies Dim and silent, — and only I See the face with the haunting eyes. Sweet the calm on the brow that lies, Sweet the smile on the silent lips, Still and deep are the shadowy eyes, Like a lake where the lily dips. • Guest unbidden, why haunt me so ? All the day are my thoughts of thee, All the night does thy memory flow Over my soul like a whelming sea ! ■ Ever into my dim lone room Comest thou nightly, with even's star, — Wliy dost thou come where light and bloom. Beauty and love and gladness are ? " Clasping closely my passive hands, Comes the presence and walks with me,— In and out with the joyous bands Pass together the bond and free. And as we wander to .ind fro Under the lamp-light's searching shine, Little the eyes which see me, know Spirit fingers are clasping mine ! TWENTY-TWO. Smilingly day's wearied monarch Lays aside her golden crown, And o'er earth's eahn breast, the twilight Slmke.s her shadowy tresses down. With wliite foreiiead pure and saintly Comes the moon of memories, And u|Kin the dim earth faintly L(H)k thf loving Tleiades. Lillle one, with face ii])lifted Softly to the failing light. And thy sofl hair brightly drifted Backward from thy forehead white, — Come, while yet yon lonely wild-birtl Warbles forth his farewell trills. And the hem of day's bright garment Lies lUong the western hills, — TWENTY-TWO. Come and see liow fust the summer Flees before October's tread, "With her garments rent and faded, And her garlands sere and dead. Bright the frozen dew-drops glitter Lying on her soft brown hair, And her sighing, sad and bitter, Burdens all the golden air. Two-and-twent_y years this even Since a mother's yearning prayer Blest a young child, newly given To the world's unloving care ; Two-and-twenty years this even ! Just as now the stars looked down, — Just as now, night's calm-browed empress Wore her pearl and silver crown ; — Yet all else is strangely altered ; Ah, for many lonesome years. O'er that mother's lowly grave-mound Have the violets dropped their tears ; "Weeping not that she so early In life's battle sunk and died. But that one she blessed in dying. Is not sleeping by her side ! TWENTY-TWO. Littlf one, witli face uplit'tcd Softly in the silver light, AnJ thy bright hair backward drifted — Know'st thou 't is my birth-day night? Know'st thou, as we kneel together Wliere the moonlight floods the floor. On my conscious head in blessing. Rests that mother's hand once more ? MAGIC MIRRORS. A FAiu young child with lieart of glee Stands prattling by its mother's knee, And as her eyes reflect the smile Brightening her darling's face the while, " Oh, mother, dear," the cherub cries, '•' I see a baby in your eyes !" The mother stoops and pla}'fully Raising the infant to her knee, Gazes within the azure deeps Where joy's bright meaning never sleeps ; - A pale sad womayi she descries, Out-gazing from her baby's eyes ! ' Ah, eyes tell truth," she sighs at last, — ' Yours speak your future, — mine my past ; For in your radiant orbs I see A prophecy of days to he. And in my own dimmed eyes, appears A glimpse of childhood's vanished years ! " THE HAUNTED RIVER. I SIT liy a boiiutifiil river. Whose waves, dancing on to the sea, Are kissing each other in gladness. And laughing like children in glee. It flows amid llowcr-gcninicd meadows, And eddies through blossomy dells, And, to every frcsli leaf-sjii-ay that greets it, A tale of new melody tells. When twilight with covetous fingers Afar in the shadowy w^cst, lias gathered the roses of sunset. And hidden them under her vest, — I love by its margin to wander, For sweetest of music to me Is the song rippling up from its bosom. In numbers triumiiluuit and free. THE HAUNTED RIVER. The charm of an olden tradition Hangs over the beautiful place, Investing its wildering sweetness With a sacred and mystical grace. 'T is a tale of a sunny-eyed maiden "Who dwelt by the murmuring stream, "With a form and a face which were fairer Than the shapes in a summer-night's dream. But there came a dark sorrow, that blighted Her heart to its innermost core. And the gladness returned to her spirit. And the smile to her sweet lips no more. One night in the beautiful season "Wliich follows the summer's decline, "WHien beams from the fair face of heaven A smile that is almost divine, — "Wlien her chaplet of crimson and golden The goddess of autumn-time weaves, And berries like clusters of i-ubies Hide under the emerald leaves, — She parted the curls from her forehead. And bound them with glittering gems, And looped up their rich glossy masses "With lilies and daffodil stems, — TIIF. lIArVTED niVER. And ilocked in pure snowy-white gnrnicnis lU-filting ft newly-made bride, Slie loosened her boat from its mooring. And rowed o'er the glistening tide. And when the glad morning was shaking The light from her tresses of gold, And the folds of her niany-lmed mantle Agjiin in the eiU'it were enrolled, And the wootl-birds, to welcome her coming AVere warbling their merriest strain. The boat lay alone on the water But the maiden returned not .igain. And 't is said in the gathering twilight Of autumn's soil whispering eves, When sweetly the river is singing Its song to the listening leaves, When the wind, with a, mother's devotion lias roeked the faint blossoms to rest, And the white moonlight lies like a spirit A-leep on the river's soft breast. With a dipping of shadowy ])addles Which noiselessly tremble and gleam. A boat, like a silvery crescent Comes floating adown the bright stream. THE HAUNTED RIVER. And there, with her lily-twined tresses, A snowy-white bridal array. The beautiful maiden sits guiding The boat on its star-lighted way. Ah ! oft have I mused on the story. Alone in this shadowy place, Till I almost could see in the waters The gleam of a beautiful face, — Till dimly my watcliing eyes pictured In a far away curve of the stream, The spirit-like boat of the maiden And her white garments' quivering gleam. C II A R MED. TiRN away thy strange soft eyes, They oppress me with their beauty, And the light that in them lies Lures roe far from right and duty. I have watched their dazzling beam Till my very life and being, Thought and speech and motion seem Centered in the sense of seeing. Though the fire of thy strange eyes To my very heart is burning. Still my wildercd spirit sighs Deeply for their soft returning. For my all of bliss in life I have known since first I met thee. Ah ! it is a weary strife This vain struggle to forget thee ! WHERE CHARLIE DIED. There seems a saired presence here, A gloom as of approaching night, For one whose smile to us was dear Here bowed to death's remorseless blight. The youngest of our liousehold band, Fair-browed, and gay, and sunny-eyed, Unclasped from ours his little hand And in his cliildish beauty died. They said he died ; — it seems to me That, after hours of pain and strife. lie slept, one even, peacefully, And woke toeverLosting life ; And mirth's glad voice, and laughter's cheer May ring througli all the house beside. But quiet sadness reigneth here. Since darling babv Charlie died. WHF.UE CHARLIE DIED. Oh ! wlicn my hi-art, oppressed by care, Grows fiiiiit to find its heaven unwon, And slirinks irom life's vain hollow glare As flowers beneath the August sun, — I love to seek this shadowy room, By memory sa IN MINK. In tlie brijiht hours wliicli follow the iliiwii Or in the broiul daylight of noon, Or when the blithe cricket is singing At eve liis monotonous tune, — Or when the tliiek tresses of midnight On eiirth's silent bosom are thrown, The luind with its sort, clasping fnigers Lies lovingly still in my own. Anil when the pale messenger comcth, AVhose smile hath a promise divine, Will they lay me away from my idol, And take the dear fingers from mine ? Oh, no I let us yield up together The hust brief and quivering breath. And the hands which in life never parted, Be still undivided in death ! AGAIN. Mother, I come to thee again, As in my shadowed hours of old, But oh, I find thee not as then, — The sod above thy heart is cold ; I hear no more thy wliisper's thrill, I feel no more thy lip's soft touch, — Thy voice is mute, thy heart is still, And I am changed almost as much I For fate my trembling steps has led TTliere sorrow's bitter waters swell. And showers from love's pure fountain shed, Have changed to tear-drops as they fell ; And now for many a weary year, Since I have strayed away from thee. Thy low neglected pillow here lias only seemed like home to me. Ami tliough across my foreliead now, Time's lines anil funxjws are not drawn Though years rest lightly on my brow, The spring-time of my heart is gone;- And I eould envy tliy sweet rest, Thy calm release from pain and care,— Could gladly sleep upon thy breast, And tind a blessed solace there ! MY WORLD. I HAVE a \vorkl, a radiant world, In which I dwell alone, Where earthly cares and woes and fears Are never felt or known ; No foot unwelcome enters there, — I hold the mystic key ; Its golden portals, wide and fair. Ope never but for me. There are no sorrows in my world. No anguish and no tears ; Its beauty and its happiness Fade not with fading years ; There are no tempests in its sky, No clouds by lightning riven ; No gloom or darkness ever falls Athwart its summer-heaven. MY VOULI>. No stiiitlicrii I'limo li:i.-i (lowers .«o Mvcft, With lilies so rich mid bright, As tliosc whii-h blossom in iiiy world, riichillrd by winter's blifjbt: Amid its ganltiis broad iind fair No stricken blossom grioves, — My world luus autumn's gorgeous dyes, But not its withered leaves. And there are (u-ineely |)alares, Anil towers high and fair. Rearing their snowy battlements AgJiinst the purple air ; And stately domes and marble founts, And eit