PS 
 1006 
 A85 
 
 California 
 
 egional 
 
 acility
 
 , , . 
 
 of California 
 
 IRVINE
 
 TOOT YER HORN 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 (ULLIE AKERSTROM) 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHORESS. 
 1888.
 
 TO THE PUBLIC, 
 
 WHOSE KIND ENCOURAGEMENT URGES ME ON TO 
 
 HIGHER AIMS. THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS 
 
 RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1888, by ULLIE AKERSTBOM, 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Toot yer Horn if You don t Sell a Clam 5 
 
 The Miner s Protege 6 
 
 Right Will E er Prevail 8 
 
 Thoughts In a Churchyard 9 
 
 Never Dilly-dally 1 1 
 
 Phantoms 1 1 
 
 To-morrow 12 
 
 Learn to Walk Alone 14 
 
 What Do We Live For ? 15 
 
 Push Ahead and Don t Despair 16 
 
 Life s Workers 17 
 
 Your Fortune 18 
 
 My Wish 19 
 
 Rely Upon Yourself 20 
 
 Ode to Night 21 
 
 The Storm 22 
 
 Dreams 23 
 
 Unrest . . . . \ 25 
 
 Memories 25 
 
 The Sea 26 
 
 The Coat Makes the Man of To-day 27 
 
 The Four Suns 28 
 
 Philosophy 30 
 
 Passing Thoughts 31 
 
 The Old Dress 32 
 
 Oblivion 32 
 
 The Weed 33 
 
 Somebody s Waiting for Me 35 
 
 The Old Wife s Song 3 6 
 
 Going Home 37 
 
 Illinois 38 
 
 Love Commands All 39 
 
 Nobody Cares but Mother 4 1 
 
 Betrayed 4 2 
 
 To My Old Friends 43 
 
 If 44 
 
 Lines (to a friend) 45 
 
 Lines (on hearing a gentleman say the spirit of his dead wife seemed 
 
 always near him) 4^
 
 4 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 39. God s Christmas Gift 47 
 
 40. To a Child 48 
 
 41 . Bridal and Funeral Flowers 49 
 
 42. Under the Willow 50 
 
 43. Lines (on the death of a child] 51 
 
 44. My Bird Song 53 
 
 45. Footsteps on The Stair , 54 
 
 46. Lines (to an old friend] 55 
 
 47. Only a Tress of Hair 56 
 
 48. Old Love Songs 57 
 
 49. Impossibilities 5^ 
 
 50. In Memorial 59 
 
 51. I Want My Balloon 60 
 
 52. My Choice 62 
 
 53. Wanted : A Wife 63 
 
 54. Old Yaller 64 
 
 55. I ll Bet Yer a Dollar 67 
 
 56. Deacon Gray 68 
 
 57. Big Injun 69 
 
 58. A Woman s Explanation 70 
 
 59. The Old Maid 71 
 
 60. A Warning to Poets 72 
 
 6 1 . The Omen 74 
 
 62. Perhaps 76 
 
 63. Parted 77 
 
 64. Trials 78 
 
 65 . Lines 79 
 
 66. Remember Me 80 
 
 67. Watching (a sea story] 81 
 
 68. Discontent 82 
 
 69. A Heart Song 83 
 
 70. Drifting Apart 84 
 
 71. Thy Will be Done 85 
 
 72. Have Trust in God 86 
 
 73. Resignation 87 
 
 74. Submission 88 
 
 75. My Prayer 88 
 
 76. Be Thou My Guide. 89 
 
 77. Self Reliance (prose) 90 
 
 78. The Actor 91 
 
 79. Don t Miss Your Cue 92 
 
 80. Sunshine (prose) 94
 
 "TOOT YER HORN IF YOU DON T SELL A CLAM." 
 
 \ V/HILE on a trip to Baltimore, 
 * That city grand on Chesapeake s shore, 
 
 I met a man upon the pier, 
 
 ( Mong other venders standing near) ; 
 
 With clams his cart was loaded down, 
 
 (A peddler he about the town) ; 
 
 Good man, said I, "how many hours 
 
 Will it take to sell that load of yours ? " 
 
 He turned and said, "Well, I don t know, 
 
 Whether I ll sell em fast or slow ; 
 
 Life is a sort of game of grab, 
 
 An nothin venture, nothin have ; 
 
 I ll do my best as sure as you re born ; 
 
 I ll go around an toot my horn 
 
 If I don t sell a clam ! " 
 
 He drove away ; his horn s clear (?) swell 
 
 Told far and near he d clams to sell ; 
 
 " Toot ! toot ! clams ! c-1-a-m-s ! " I heard him call, 
 
 " Here s nice fresh clams for great and small ! " 
 
 " Toot ! clams ! " he called from street to street, 
 
 To all whom he would chance to meet ; 
 
 I watched him drive out of my sight, 
 
 Yet still I heard his voice of might 
 
 Yell " clams ! clams ! clams ! " I smiled to see 
 
 The honest fellow s earnest zeal :
 
 I sauntered on with careless tread, 
 And still those words rang in my head : 
 " I ll do my best as sure as you re born ; 
 I m goin round to toot my horn 
 If I don t sell a clam ! " 
 
 I learned a lesson from that man, 
 
 I honored his hard-working plan, 
 
 I pray you take it home likewise, 
 
 Despondent souls with heavy eyes ; 
 
 " Brace up," that s slang, I. know, but true, 
 
 And good advice for me and you ; 
 
 Don t sit and loaf on life s curbstone, 
 
 While others pass you re left alone ; 
 
 "Git up and git," don t waste your time, 
 
 Life s choicest prizes may be thine ; 
 
 Good luck awaits both rich and poor ; 
 
 Go round and hunt you ll fipd it sure ; 
 
 Don t sit complaining so forlorn, 
 
 Go rush around and " toot your horn 
 
 If you don t sell a clam." 
 
 THE MINER S PROTEGE. 
 
 W 
 
 AL. you see its a queer story, missy, 
 The little gal s none o our kin ; 
 But you bet when the old men go under 
 
 She s the one who will handle our " tin. 
 My pard an me s rough minin fellers, 
 
 We ve got nary children nor wife ; 
 But we love little yaller-haired Nellie, 
 An we ll rear her up right, bet yer life.
 
 How old ? Wai she s nigh eight I reckon, 
 
 Five years since we brought her out here ; 
 An she was the cunninest baby 
 
 We d looked at for many a year. 
 Yer see twas the time the Apaches 
 
 Broke out. (Blast the red imps o sin !) 
 The emigrant train crossed their trail, Miss ; 
 
 An the Injuns they scooped em all in. 
 
 Yes, thar lay men, childen an wimmen ; 
 
 The red imps had laised all their ha r ; 
 We couldn t do nothin to help em, 
 
 So my pard an me buried them thar. 
 There was one likely lookin young cretur 
 
 Lyin out from the rest of the heap. 
 She was dead like the rest an poor Nellie 
 
 Was close by her side fast asleep. 
 
 Wai, twas nigh ninety miles to the settlement ; 
 
 Bill an me turned the thing in our mind, 
 An at last we concluded to keep her 
 
 An bring her up lovin an kind. 
 We buried her poor dad an mammy, 
 
 Likewise all their unlucky mates, 
 An we named her Nell, arter a sweetheart 
 
 My pard had once, back in the States. 
 
 But the trouble we had with that young un 
 
 Was somethin quite funny to see ; 
 Bill give her up for a mystery, 
 
 Likewise she was too much for me. 
 Her durned duds, they wouldn t go on right, 
 
 An we cussed every button an string ; 
 But arter a spell we did better, 
 
 When we once got the hang o the thing
 
 8 
 
 An she s growin up pert-like an blooinin ; 
 
 We take her to work every day, 
 And while Bill an me s busy a minin 
 
 She ll sit on the rock pile an play. 
 An she s made better men of us both, Miss, 
 
 We don t cuss now, nor go on no spree ; 
 Cause we re workin and savin for Nellie, 
 
 The pride of my old pard an me. 
 
 RIGHT WILL E ER PREVAIL 
 
 THOUGH this world of ours seems upside down, 
 -r And under falsehood s sway, 
 I tell you, friends, there s coming soon 
 
 A brighter, happier day. 
 There ll be a day when truth and love 
 
 Will rule o er hill and dale ; 
 For a God of justice reigns above, 
 And Right will e er prevail. 
 
 Brothers who trod the downward road 
 
 Led on by fiendish Rum, 
 But have broken loose from his fatal grasp, 
 
 And the upward path begun 
 Though shunned and doubted now by all, 
 
 Do not o er the past bewail ; 
 You will yet regain your lost estate, 
 
 For Right will e er prevail 
 
 Sisters, who strayed from virtue s pale, 
 
 But have now turned back again, 
 Press on, for repentence, time and faith 
 
 Will blot out the past s dark stain.
 
 Take heart ! Work on in your self reform, 
 
 Your efforts will sure avail ; 
 For a God of Love doth watch above, 
 
 And Right will e er prevail. 
 
 Yea, earnest labor with heart and brain, 
 
 And the help of God will win ; 
 And honesty, temperance, virtue, still 
 
 Will rise above crime and sin. 
 Then join hands in all the lands, 
 
 And encourage the weak and frail ; 
 Let them turn not back to sin s dark track, 
 
 And may Truth and Right prevail. 
 
 THOUGHTS IN A CHURCHYARD. 
 
 Y 
 
 ON mound by brightest flowers decked, 
 Tells of a love not yet forgot ; 
 
 Of thoughts that ever backward turn 
 From busy life to this lone spot. 
 
 Like sea of living green outspread, 
 
 By waving grass o ergrown, this mound 
 
 Reminds us of the bright, fresh fields, 
 Where nature s free, rich gifts abound. 
 
 Yon sculptured marble, high and cold, 
 A token seems of power and worth ; 
 
 Not so a poor, weak hope it shows, 
 To be remembered on the earth. 
 
 Like blot upon a picture bright, 
 This dark and bare unsodden spot 
 
 So drear, and from the rest apart, 
 Seems by the whole wide world forgot.
 
 10 
 
 Howe er disguised, beneath each mound, 
 A hidden tenant ghastly lies, 
 
 A stark and mouldering, shrouded form 
 Is buried deep from human eyes. 
 
 And so in life is man to man ; 
 
 We hear the jest, we see the smile, 
 Unheeding that the fair outside 
 
 Conceals a sorrow all the while. 
 
 Some men are like the mound with flowers, 
 Their lives seem full of bliss and light ; 
 
 Yet, neath the brilliant, gay outside, 
 Is hid some thought their joy to blight. 
 
 And others, like the marble high, 
 
 Conceal their minds neath pride and gold. 
 But, ah ! The rich man s haughty soul, 
 
 At times is filled with woe untold. 
 
 And like the drear, unsodden spot, 
 In some poor, joyless human heart, 
 
 Which, filled with sad and gloomy thoughts, 
 Seems fate ordained to live apart. 
 
 Yes, neath the careless look, each heart 
 Conceals some scar, some stab, some burn, 
 
 Or ruin of some cherished hope, 
 To which the thoughts forever turn. 
 
 And like the graves, the covering bright 
 Seems free from cloud as summer s sky ; 
 
 Yet, like the graves, deep in each heart, 
 The ashes of some image lie.
 
 1 1 
 
 NEVER DILLY-DALLY. 
 
 W 
 
 HAT e er you have to carry, friend, 
 
 Don t loiter by the road, 
 Nor sit and wait for some one else 
 
 To lighten up your load. 
 If you intend to climb life s hill, 
 
 Don t idle in the valley ; 
 But warning take in time, my friend, 
 And do not dilly-dally. 
 
 In short, whate er you have to do, 
 
 Do quickly and at once ; 
 The man who stands and " hems and haws," 
 
 Is nothing but a dunce. 
 Life s hill is steep If you would climb 
 
 Don t loiter in the valley ; 
 The winner in life s race is he 
 
 Who does not dilly-dally. 
 
 Y 
 
 PHANTOMS. 
 
 E phantoms of the buried past, 
 
 That rise athwart my path 
 Why come ye here your saddening gloom 
 
 Across my soul to cast ? 
 Back to your haunts ! I m living now 
 
 In light of the glad To-day ; 
 I weep no more o er vanished joys ; 
 
 Back ! back ! Ye must not stay ! 
 
 Why linger ye with shadowy hands, 
 That point my merrory back 
 
 To crumbled idols, lying low, 
 O er the weary, trodden track ;
 
 I close my eyes on your gloomy forms, 
 And press on the upward way ; 
 
 I ll weep no more over vanished joys ; 
 Back ! back ! Why do ye stay ? 
 
 And yet, alas, with your presence comes 
 
 A yearning, I know not why, 
 To list to your plaintive, mournful tones, 
 
 Though I pass so quickly by ; 
 I fain would live in the peaceful calm, 
 
 And light of the glad To-day ; 
 I will not weep over vanished joys ; 
 
 Back ! back ! Ye shall not stay ! 
 
 Why should I grieve and mourn and sigh 
 
 Over things that once have been ? 
 I cannot better my kindest act, 
 
 Nor lessen my greatest sin ; 
 So back to your haunts ye goblin things, 
 
 And there in oblivion stay ; 
 I weep no more over vanished joys ; 
 
 I live in the glad To-day ! 
 
 TO-MORROW. 
 
 HE trees, green-leaved, through which the breeze 
 
 To-day is softly blowing, 
 The flowers that proudly rear their heads 
 
 Beside the brooklet growing ; 
 Inhale their perfume, note their grace, 
 
 Nor thought of sadness borrow ; 
 Those flowers, so fragrant, fresh and pure, 
 
 May droop and die To-morrow.
 
 Sweet child, beside thy mother s knee, 
 
 So innocent and smiling, 
 With childish prattle, baby wiles, 
 
 Her every care beguiling ; 
 O clasp him, mother, while you may ! 
 
 Shield his young life from sorrow ; 
 Thy boy, so bright and winsome now, 
 
 Chill Death may claim To-morrow. 
 
 Young wife, close by thy husband s side, 
 
 So beautiful and charming, 
 Thy pure, confiding, wifely heart 
 
 No fear of ill alarming, 
 Smile while you may love while you can, 
 
 (God turn each poisoned arrow) ; 
 The one you trust so fondly now, 
 
 Cold " change " may touch To-morrow. 
 
 Yea, flowers and beauty, light and joy, 
 
 Youth, talent, love and pleasure, 
 The careless heart, the lovelit eye, 
 
 Each fondly cherished treasure, 
 Enjoy to-day, another sun 
 
 May bow thy soul in sorrow, 
 And what you prize so dearly now, 
 
 May all be gone To-morrow. 
 
 And yet new forms spring up around, 
 
 With life the dead replacing ; 
 The Present with its joys and cares, 
 
 All else almost erasing ; 
 Keep fast thy hold on Faith and Hope, 
 
 Nor yield to needless sorrow ; 
 The sky so dark with clouds to-day, 
 
 May sunlit be To-morro\v.
 
 14 
 
 LEARN TO WALK ALONE. 
 
 THIS world s a puzzle hard to solve, 
 T A riddle hard to read ; 
 And those who find life s path all bright 
 
 Are precious few indeed ; 
 Yet don t despair though Fortune frown, 
 
 Nor murmur at your fate ; 
 Your aim in life by earnest toil, 
 
 You ll sure win soon or late ; 
 But walk upon your <nvn feet, friend, 
 
 Don t trust to other s strength 
 To carry or to pull you up 
 
 Life s hill of weary length ; 
 If e er you hope to make your mark, " 
 
 Or let your worth be known, 
 Take all the props from under you 
 
 And learn to walk alone. 
 
 Men, who depend on borrowed gold 
 
 To brighten up your name, 
 And plead you must make such display, 
 
 Your future wealth to gain ; 
 Beware ! pay as you go " is best ; 
 
 Debt is an ugly foe, 
 You cannot tell what hour the fiend 
 
 Will strike a fatal blow ! 
 Sons ! stand without your father s aid, 
 
 Upon yourselves rely, 
 Rich fruitage in the future lies, 
 
 You ll win it if you try ; 
 Know that the " solid man " is he 
 
 (In high or humble home) 
 Who has no props to lean upon, 
 
 But walks along alone.
 
 WHAT DO WE LIVE FOR ? 
 
 \ V /HAT do we live for ? Is it to toil 
 * * And hoard up wealth we can never use ? 
 To labor on ever, day by day, 
 
 Till our eye and cheek their lustre lose ? 
 To turn our backs on life s joys and light, 
 
 And concentrate all our thoughts to gain, 
 Till our hair is gray and our step grows slow, 
 And our body is racked with declining pain ? 
 
 What do we live for ? Is it that we 
 
 May rule or conquer our fellow-men ? 
 Or is it that we may pass our time 
 
 In study of art or use of pen ? 
 And fill the dreamless hours of night 
 
 With longings for what we cannot attain, 
 Or to sacrifice all of our youth s bright light 
 
 For the poor and empty bauble, fame ? 
 
 What do we live for ? Is it to be 
 
 Despondent and saddened fore er and e er, 
 To turn from the pleasant walks of life 
 
 And choose for our part the toil and care ? 
 Is it for this, alas, that man 
 
 Lives on, and on, through Time s long hours ? 
 Is it for this that He has formed 
 
 Us after His image by his power? 
 
 Not so ! O tired and brain-worn hordes 
 
 In the city s heated and pent up walls ; 
 O drop for a while your books and pens, 
 
 Come listen how sweetly the wild bird calls ! 
 Come gaze upon Nature s features fair, 
 
 Let her fan your brow with her perfumed breath ; 
 Each day awhile with her scenes commune, 
 
 And life of its care will be half bereft.
 
 i6 
 
 A little of wealth will do us all, 
 
 If we pay our way from day to day ; 
 And poverty is not bitter, friend, 
 
 If we have our health and a heart that s gay ; 
 Enjoy on this earth its beauties rare, 
 
 Death rings full soon for us all his knell ; 
 And he who has gleaned the most of joy, 
 
 Can truly say " He has lived life well ! " 
 
 PUSH AHEAD AND DON T DESPAIR. 
 
 !jOES your path look dark and gloomy ? 
 
 Do your steps lag on the way ? 
 Are you weary, sad, disheartened 
 
 At your trials every day ? 
 Lift your head and pass on boldly, 
 
 Fearless, face life s storms and care ; 
 Every soul must bear its troubles : 
 
 Push ahead and don t despair. 
 
 Do you toil to win an object 
 
 Far away from present view ? 
 Does each day seem ever bringing 
 
 Added care and toil to you ? 
 If you do your very best, friend, 
 
 Through all weather, foul or fair, 
 Sure success will crown your efforts : 
 
 Push ahead and don t despair. 
 
 What s the use to sit complaining 
 O er the ills we cannot mend ? 
 
 Don t give way to vain repining, 
 Useless folly tis, my friend ;
 
 Don t stand moping in the shadow ; 
 
 Step out where the sun shines fair, 
 Though the stumbling-blocks are many, 
 
 Push ahead and don t despair. 
 
 LIFE S WORKERS. 
 
 F you ve incited fellow-men 
 
 To better acts and nobler deeds, 
 If you have lent a friendly hand 
 
 To help a poor man s many needs, 
 If you have Charity s silence kept, 
 
 Nor added blot to tarnished name, 
 But helped the weak one on his feet, 
 
 Be sure you have not lived in vain. 
 
 If you have shown youthful minds 
 
 The difference twixt right and wrong, 
 Or helped to carry some one s load 
 
 Of care, Life s weary road along ; 
 If through your means some fallen one 
 
 Shall turn back from her life of shame, 
 And, with God s help, live honestly, 
 
 Be sure you have not lived in vain. 
 
 If you shall point the way to light 
 
 To some dark, sad, discouraged heart, 
 If e er you strive to help the Right, 
 
 As in Life s scenes you take your part 
 Believe our God, whose searching eye 
 
 Knows all our motives, acts and pain, 
 Will not condemn His handiwork, 
 
 Nor deem that you have lived in vain.
 
 i8 
 
 YOUR FORTUNE, 
 
 > HALL I tell your fortune ? Well, get the cards ; 
 T A gypsy must have her cards, you know ; 
 Now, sit down there with attentive mien, 
 
 Sit right down opposite me there so ; 
 I ll shuffle and cut and con the pack, 
 And all I tell will be strictly true ; 
 As I view the cards I will tell, my friend. 
 What the dim, far future will bring to you. 
 
 Your life will be checkered here and there 
 
 With sunshine and shadow a little rain ; 
 If you use your talents and aim up high, 
 
 You ll make an honored and noble name ; 
 If you work and save as you go along, 
 
 And wrong no man (by the cards I m told), 
 You ll live a contented and peaceful life, 
 
 And have wealth to spare when you grow old. 
 
 You will love (I am safe in saying that, 
 
 For everyone loves sometime in life) ; 
 If you woo her rightly you ll gain her heart, 
 
 And make her your well beloved wife ; 
 If you treat her e er as a partner dear, 
 
 And are kind and patient (the cards now say), 
 She ll be fond and tender and true to you, 
 
 And be a good, faithful wife alway. 
 
 You can gain a stand in the busy world 
 By earnest, faithful and ceaseless toil ; 
 
 You can ride on the ciest of Life s wild waves, 
 Or sink unseen in the turbid moil,
 
 The power s within you to drown or swim, 
 
 To win wealth, laurels, friends, or lose them ; 
 
 The talents you have. how much you gain, 
 Depends entire on how you use them, 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Away with this folly, your " Fortune " s done ; 
 
 I ve told you all in the future lies, 
 As far as I can for the coming years 
 
 Are solemnly sealed from mortal eyes ; 
 Your future fortune your own hands hold, 
 
 You can mould it just as you will, I say; 
 Be sure, To-morrow ll take care of itself 
 
 If you do the best you can To-day. 
 
 MY WISH. 
 
 L ET me be happy while I may, 
 * ^ To me Life s sky looks clear to-day ; 
 Don t tell me if you know the sun 
 Will shroud in clouds, e er day is done ; 
 Don t tell me, if the friends I love 
 You know, in time, most false will prove 
 But let me dream and smile to-day ; 
 Let me be happy while I may. 
 
 Perhaps the hands I love to clasp 
 Will smite me cruelly at last ; 
 Perhaps the lips I love to kiss 
 With scorn will end my fancied bliss ; 
 Perhaps the smiles that beam on me 
 Will prove to be hypocrisy ; 
 Yet do not tell me if you know ; 
 Don t warn me of the coming blow.
 
 20 
 
 But let me dream ! Life s joys are few, 
 So let me fancy all are true ; 
 Time soon for me to weep may come, 
 And bitter wrongs to me be done ; 
 Yet do not cloud my dreams to-day, 
 These dreams that are so glad and gay, 
 But let me think they ll ever stay ; 
 Let me be happy, while I may. 
 
 RELY UPON YOURSELF. 
 
 iS YOU go forth in busy life 
 And join in the ceaseless strife, 
 
 To gain a little wealth, 
 This caution I would give to you : 
 True-hearted friends are very few, 
 
 Trust no one but yourself. 
 
 You ll find that as a general rule, 
 The world will make of you a tool 
 
 For gain of paltry pelf ; 
 So when you form a goodly plan, 
 Don t tell your thought to any man, 
 
 But run the thing " yourself. 
 
 These so-called friends will often be 
 Far from you, if adversity 
 
 E er robs you of your wealth ; 
 The truest friends in all the lands, 
 You ll find are your hard-working hands. 
 
 Rely upon yourself.
 
 So don t forget the motto, friend, 
 If you into your life would send 
 
 True cheerfulness and health ; 
 Remember, he s the happiest man 
 Who mid all circumstances, can 
 
 Rely upon himself. 
 
 ODE TO NIGHT. 
 
 NIGHT ! O quiet night ! 
 
 Bathed in the clear starlight ; 
 Bringing to weary souls 
 Sweet rest and calm repose ; 
 Casting o er grass and flowers 
 
 Bright, sparkling, dewy showers 
 From heaven s pure cell, 
 
 Thine is the stilly hour 
 
 When those in trouble sore, 
 And those who mourn their dead, 
 With sad, low bending head, 
 Find for their bitter grief, 
 
 Transient, but sweet relief, 
 In sleep s calm spell. 
 
 On thy soft winds, ascend 
 
 Prayers fr6m the saints, who bend 
 Humbly at His great throne, 
 Whose mighty power alone, 
 Can to the troubled heart 
 
 Comfort and peace impart ; 
 And heaven at last.
 
 22 
 
 O night ! thine is the hour, 
 
 When my mind s mighty power, 
 Traces, on swiftest wings, 
 All my life s wanderings ; 
 Bringing back unto me 
 
 Plainly, the memory 
 Of days long past. 
 
 O night ! unto my breast 
 
 Bring sweet forgetfulness ; 
 Let not my mind e er stray 
 Back o er youth s joyous way, 
 Or pluck from past away, 
 
 One brilliant, blissful, day , 
 Or careless hour. 
 
 O night ! unto my heart 
 
 Sweet, quiet peace impart ; 
 Teach my wild, roving thought 
 To deem the past as nought, 
 And lift my eyes above ; 
 
 Trusting in His great love 
 And mighty power. 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 O-NIGHT the Storm-king holds o er earth his sway ; 
 
 The lightning flashes the thunder roars, 
 And from the lurid sky, so pitchy black, 
 
 The rain in heavy torrents ceaseless pours. 
 
 Fair Luna hides behind the heavy clouds, 
 Her beams of shining, limpid, silver bright, 
 
 And not a star lends to the gloomy scene 
 Its ray of brilliant and mysterious light.
 
 23 
 
 Anon the dazzling lightning flash reveals 
 The hill, the plain, unto my watchful eyes ; 
 
 Then vanishes the strange electric flash, 
 Again the earth in solemn blackness lies. 
 
 Rave on ! O storm ! thou suitest well my mind ! 
 
 Flash ! lightning, flash ! and let my longing eyes 
 Dream that your glittering tracks are rays of light 
 
 Shed from the opening gates of Paradise. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 dreamt : 
 
 Twas of a garden rich with lovely flowers, 
 Whose gaudy hues and fragrance sweet and rare, 
 Filling the air and o er my senses stealing 
 Like magic wild, beguiled my every care. 
 
 I dreamt : 
 
 Twas of a tree whose limbs wild birds were filling ; 
 
 Their free, glad songs my sleeping soul enchanted ; 
 Their plumage gay the while my eye delighting, 
 
 As glimpse of heaven or land by fairies haunted. 
 
 I dreamt : 
 
 Twas of a hall ; bright lights were throwing 
 
 Their lustre o er a board with dainties spread ; 
 The woods, fields, sea, the vineyards, all, 
 
 To the rich hoard their choicest treasures sped. 
 
 I dreamt : 
 
 Twas of a scene where wealth and pomp 
 
 In regal state their empty tokens flaunted : 
 I saw in all that lordly crowd not one 
 
 To whom the boon of happiness was granted.
 
 I dreamt : 
 
 Twas of a ball-room ; nimble feet were gliding 
 
 Over the floor, to music whose sweet measure 
 Bewildered every sense, causing the heart to throb 
 
 With joy delirious, lost to all but pleasure. 
 
 I dreamt : 
 
 It was of forms, whose lightest touch 
 
 Filled me with rapture ; Dream of joy ! 
 Then flowers and song and gilded hall of pride, 
 
 All sunk to naught in bliss without alloy. 
 
 I dreamt : 
 
 Their words were truth ; ah, happy dream ! 
 
 That fled too soon, like morning dew, 
 Like mist before the sun away it sped, 
 
 Like lightning flash or sunset s glorious hue. 
 
 I dreamt : 
 
 Twas of an eye whose glance sought mine in love, 
 
 My spirit, answering to the look, 
 All else forsook ; alas, the vision fled, 
 
 Dreamland was gone and starting, I awoke. 
 
 I woke and found my garlands withered leaves ; 
 
 I woke and found my grain was empty sheaves; 
 I woke and found my birds were birds of prey ; 
 
 I woke and found the music passed away. 
 
 I wept to find of truth and love no token ; 
 
 I wept to find how lightly vows are broken ; 
 I wept to find my kind friends all had flown ; 
 
 I wept to find my bright hopes all o erthrown. 
 
 Ah ! dreams of beauty, song and light, 
 And friends so true ! Ye come no more 
 
 My soul to cheer ; but through the gloom 
 I onward look to Heaven s bright shore.
 
 25 
 
 UNREST. 
 
 Y mind to-night is not at rest ; 
 
 My spirit heaves within my breast, 
 And almost seems to take its flight 
 To yonder heaven so pure and bright, 
 And soar beyond the stars. 
 
 My mind s keen eye can almost see 
 The brilliant marvelous mystery, 
 That holds within yon wondrous space 
 Each whirling planet in its place, 
 
 Through all Time s fleeting hours. 
 
 My spirit seems to roam at will 
 From planet unto planet, till 
 At last the moon s clear shining beams 
 Sink low beneath the silent streams, 
 And naught of light remains. 
 
 Then doth my spirit fold its wings 
 And as the morning light begins, 
 Worn with its toilsome wanderings, 
 And restless, roving hoverings, 
 Back to the earth return. 
 
 w 
 
 MEMORIES. 
 
 ITH the moonbeams round me streaming, 
 In my chamber I sit dreaming, 
 
 Dreaming of bright hopes o erthrown ; 
 And my spirit, sad and weary, 
 Clings with feeling lone and dreary 
 
 To the happy days long flown.
 
 26 
 
 All the world is wrapped in sadness ; 
 Not a sound disturbs the stillness 
 
 Save the sighing of the wind, 
 And its low and mournful sobbing 
 Softly calms my heart s wild throbbing, 
 
 Gently rests my troubled mind. 
 
 And old mem ries round me thronging, 
 Fill my bosom with wild longing 
 
 To live childhood s bright years o er ; 
 Tearing out Life s written pages, 
 And in scorn of wise old sages, 
 
 Be a careless child once more. 
 
 Round me visions gather thickly 
 Of the ones I loved so fondly, 
 
 Of the ones so true and dear. 
 Though their winsome forms I see not, 
 And their voices dear I hear not, 
 
 I can feel their presence near. 
 
 Thus my spirit sadly musing, 
 All forgetfulness refusing, 
 
 Lingers fondly o er the past, 
 Till my heart that throbs so wildly, 
 And my thoughts so drear and lonely, 
 
 Gentle slumber calms at last. 
 
 Y 
 
 THE SEA, 
 
 OU may sing of the beauties of flowers and trees, 
 
 Of the fresh green woodland s mysteries, 
 Of halls that resound with wit and mirth, 
 Of wonders hidden deep in the earth ; 
 You may sing their praises, but, ah ! to me 
 There is naught so dear as the rolling sea.
 
 How wildly and madly the white waves play ! 
 How they fling and splash their brilliant spray ! 
 They come rushing in with a roaring tone, 
 And then glide back with a sob, and moan ; 
 Naught of nature is half as dear to me 
 As thou, O, tossing, restless sea ! 
 
 I love to sit on thy glittering sand, 
 
 Or wander alone on thy sunny strand, 
 
 And gather the pebbles and quaint, queer shells, 
 
 Cast up from from thy hidden, unknown cells ; 
 
 O, would I knew all thy mystery, 
 
 O moaning, sobbing, sighing sea ! 
 
 ****** 
 
 sea ! as thy waves so memories come 
 To me, of the days when gay and young, 
 
 1 mingled (happy time to me !), 
 Mong those now severed far from me ; 
 Some in strange countries took their way, 
 And others have gone to a Brighter day. 
 
 Roll on, O sea, for far away 
 Is my roving mind and heart to-day ; 
 Perhaps thy music can drive from me 
 The grief for those I no more will see ; 
 So cheer my soul with thy sturdy roar, 
 And I will think of the past no more. 
 
 THE COAT MAKES THE MAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 HERE S many queer sayings we hear every day, 
 And some are quite "stale," some are new ; 
 
 But the one I will mention in this little rhyme 
 Is something, alas, that s " too true " ;
 
 28 
 
 No matter how gifted or worthy you be, 
 
 As you hurry along on life s way, 
 If seedy your clothes, you ll be slighted and scorned ; 
 
 For the coat makes the man of to-day. 
 
 A man may be vile as the vilest can be ; 
 
 If he cloaks all his sin beneath gold ; 
 Now-a-days he is sought after, fawned on and praised, 
 
 And looked up to by both young and old ; 
 While he legally plunders his poor fellow-men ; 
 
 Grinds the hearts of the poor day by day ; 
 His wealth shuts the eyes of his friends to his crimes, 
 
 For the coat makes the man of to-day. 
 
 Degenerate mankind, alas, cherished gold 
 
 And fine clothes, more than virtue and brains ; 
 And the man who can spend out the most for display, 
 
 The highest position attains ; 
 But the day will soon come when a man s honest worth 
 
 Will stamp him and people will say : 
 " Give us honor and truth, not tinsel and dross," 
 
 Though the coat makes the man of to-day. 
 
 THE FOUR SUNS. 
 
 E was a laughing, bright-eyed, merry boy, 
 
 Who romped and played with heart so light and gay, 
 
 With his young mates, while o er the distant hills 
 Shone warm the fading light of summer s day ; 
 
 The sunset tinted all the scene with gold, 
 Yet all unheeded passed the glad hours by,
 
 2 9 
 
 Till at the homestead door his mother stands 
 And gazes on the scene with lovelit eye, 
 
 And soon I hear her say, " Come home my pet, 
 T is time my little boy was safe in bed 
 The sun has set." 
 
 The years roll by ; the boy to manhood grown, 
 
 With bearded cheek and form erect and strong, 
 Has singled out from loveliest womankind 
 
 The one to cherish most through all life long ; 
 Implicit faith he places in her truth, 
 
 Affection gives the holiest man can pay ; 
 Alas ! as time flies by he finds her false ; 
 
 His joy-crowned future passes slow away ; 
 Heart-broken though he be, he knows not yet 
 
 That from his life the brightest light has gone 
 Love s sun has set. 
 
 Years still glide on among life s busiest throng ; 
 
 We find him now Ambition rules his soul ; 
 He strives gainst poverty, hate, malice all 
 
 Works with a will to win the wished-for goal ; 
 Alas ! his step grows slow, his eyes grow dim, 
 
 His idle hands hang listless by his side ; 
 Into vice, drunkenness and shame 
 
 He careless drifts upon life s changing tide ; 
 His guardian angel s eyes with tears are wet, 
 
 His warning voice is all unheeded now 
 
 Hope s sun has set 
 
 A few more years, and then an humble hearse 
 Passes along the dusty, worn highway, 
 
 Bearing away to rest and peace at last 
 
 The poor, world-worn, spirit-broken clay ; 
 
 No funeral knell rings out upon the air, 
 
 No mourners gather round the humble tomb ;
 
 3 
 
 His friends, the few he had, are scattered far, 
 Or else are careless what may be his doom ; 
 
 But in the great Hereafter he may yet 
 Find what he vainly sought on earth 
 
 Life s sun has set. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 >OMETIMES the cross we have to bear 
 r Seems far too heavy for our strength, 
 And often do our footsteps lag 
 
 Along life s path of weary length ; 
 Yet push ahead, the way will clear, 
 
 These stumbling blocks must be withstood ; 
 And oft events that seem the worst 
 Are very often for our good. 
 
 Do friends betray the love you gave, 
 
 And prove themselves of little worth ? 
 Don t let that cloud your happiness, 
 
 Nor banish from your heart the mirth ; 
 Your love was pure your truth unstained ; 
 
 To them, not you, falls all the shame ; 
 you ve learned a lesson, that is all ; 
 
 You know "the burnt child dreads the flame. 
 
 Live in yourself, tis better far ; 
 
 For friends " so often fail us now ; 
 Then stand alone and meet your fate 
 
 With steady heart and fearless brow ; 
 Press on your way, the road will clear, 
 
 The storms of life must be withstood ; 
 You ll find events that seem the worst 
 
 Are very often for our good.
 
 PASSING THOUGHTS. 
 
 OX SEEING A HANDSOME BOUQUET. 
 
 ^ FLOWERS, sweet flowers ! 
 
 So fragrant and so fair, 
 Whose perfume sweet is wafted on the air ; 
 You charm my senses 
 And delight my eye ; 
 Why must you die ? 
 
 Bright, laughing child, 
 Whose dancing, fairy feet 
 
 Trip by m? now to time of laughter sweet ; 
 You, in whose heart 
 Is happiness untold, 
 
 Must you grow old ? 
 
 O, maiden pure, 
 
 Of beauty s fairest mold, 
 
 Whose charms I view, so rare and manifold ; 
 Tis sad to think, 
 Bewitching, lovely maid, 
 
 Your charms will fade ! 
 
 Sweet thoughts, 
 
 God planted in our minds ; 
 
 Whose presence lightens up our cross in life ; 
 
 Remembrance of our loved, that like a sun, 
 
 Shines on our hearts through all the world s mad strife 
 Ye, while life lasts, 
 And reason holds its sway, 
 
 Pass not away.
 
 32 
 
 THE OLD DRESS. 
 
 W 
 
 ELL, yes, it is " shabby," don t laugh at it, pray, 
 
 Just fold it up neatly and put it away ; 
 Poor, worn out dress ! I will keep it fore er, 
 As I would a choice picture or lock of friend s hair ! 
 I will keep it and prize it through all life s strange changes, 
 The dress that I wore when I earned my first wages. 
 
 Poor " green " little girl ! I can smile now, you see, 
 As the place and the scene in thought come to me, 
 As with loud-beating heat I stood waiting my cue," 
 And trembled lest failure attend my " debut" ; 
 Though greater plays now my attention engages, 
 I prize the old dress that helped earn my first wages. 
 
 What labor it cost me, you ll sure understand 
 
 When I say every part was made by my own hand ; 
 
 How I worried for fear the few charms I possessed 
 
 Should not on that night appear at their best. 
 
 Time flies. Since that night I have trod many stages, 
 
 Yet I keep the old dress that helped earn my first wages. 
 
 Poor faded old dress ! there all crumpled you lie, 
 
 Your days of " utility " all have passed by ; 
 
 You seem an old friend ! "I am foolish," you say ; 
 
 Perhaps so ; yet carefully put it away ; 
 
 Tis " useless," I know, but through life s busy changes, 
 
 I ll keep the old dress that helped earn my first wages. 
 
 OBLIVION. 
 
 F I should die to-morrow, and my eyes 
 Were calmly closed, beneath the coffin lid, 
 
 My voice be hushed to never sound again, 
 My form from your dear eyes be ever hid,
 
 33 
 
 You d weep perchance, beloved one your soft eyes 
 
 With honest heartfelt tears might oft be wet ; 
 But, calm would slow but surely come to you, 
 In time you would forget. 
 
 Think not I mean unkindly when I say 
 
 Time cures the worst heart- wounds makes all things whole; 
 We weep to-day perchance to-morrow s sun 
 
 Will find all mirth and gladness in our soul. 
 The mem ry of a thing that caused us joy 
 
 May pass before the same day s sun be set, 
 And newer scenes and loves replace the lost. 
 Tis human to forget. 
 
 So do not chide, beloved one, when I say 
 
 That you d forget me if I passed away ; 
 That on your cheek would burn the same warm glow, 
 
 And your lips wreathe in laughter just as gay. 
 I would not alter Life s most wise decree, 
 
 Nor do I "dumb forgetfulness " regret; 
 Love me to-day if I am called away 
 
 I d rather you d forget. 
 
 THE WEED; 
 
 HAD a seed of some unknown plant, 
 
 I found it on the wayside as I walked ; 
 I planted it and watered it with care 
 
 And pictured all its beauty in my thought ; 
 My fancy saw in it a blossom rare, 
 
 Whose perfume would surpass the loveliest flowers 
 A thing whose beauty, symmetry and grace 
 
 Would glad my eyes through all the summer hours.
 
 34 
 
 I planted deep the seed and little dreamed 
 
 Its life and beauty had long since gone out ; 
 That watchful care, rich earth and tireless toil 
 
 Could never make the withered seed to sprout ; 
 How could I know, unheeded there had fell 
 
 A hideous weed close by my cherished seed 
 And that the care and labor that I paid 
 
 Was benefiting an unsightly weed. 
 
 At last a tender sprout came through the earth 
 
 (It was the weed and not my fancied hoard) ; 
 I knew it not but fondly dreamed at last 
 
 My tenderness and care would meet reward. 
 It grew apace, I v ceded it with care 
 
 And sheltered it from winds in stormy hour, 
 And deemed my labor would be well repaid 
 
 The hour that oped my rare and unknown flower. 
 
 At last it opened, twas the ugly weed, 
 
 Unsightly and a thing of nothing worth, 
 While it, the seed I fondly thought had bloomed 
 
 Was rotting, mouldering in the moist, damp earth 
 I tore the weed and flung it from me far ; 
 
 Angry and yet I could but smile to see 
 How weak I d been to waste my time and thought 
 
 Upon a seed of worth unknown to me. 
 
 When in your life you plant a cherished seed, 
 
 And fancy that its growth will beauteous be, 
 And that its loveliness and fragrance pure 
 
 Will be a source of endless joy to thee, 
 Watch that you do not pick from out your path 
 
 A dead, a withered, and a worthless seed. 
 And, like me, waste your labor and your time 
 
 Upon a worthless and unsightly weed.
 
 35 
 
 SOMEBODY S WAITING FOR ME 
 
 \V /HEN the sunlight, slowly fading, 
 ^ Proclaims the dying day, 
 
 And across the fields and meadows 
 
 I homeward take my way ; 
 Just down the turn in the pathway, 
 
 Neath the shade of the old oak tree, 
 There s somebody mild and gentle, 
 Who watches and waits for me. 
 
 She stands in the waning sunshine, 
 
 With the lovelight in her eye, 
 And her wind-swung tresses floating 
 
 O er a cheek of crimson dye ; 
 With a smile of joyous welcome, 
 
 To meet me she gaily trips, 
 And a tender kiss awaits me 
 
 From somebody s loving lips. 
 
 I name not her age or station, 
 
 If humble or proud she be, 
 But of all the heaven-given treasures 
 
 The dearest and best is she. 
 Too pure for a thought of evil, 
 
 E er willing my cares to share, 
 The queen of my heart s deep centre 
 
 Is she who is waiting there. 
 
 So whatever of ill befall me, 
 
 Through the weary and tedious day,- 
 As the evening shadows lengthen, 
 
 And I homeward take my way, 
 My heart and my step grow lighter 
 
 As I near that old oak tree, 
 For I know my darling s watching 
 
 And waiting to welcome me.
 
 36 
 
 THE OLD WIFE S SONG. 
 
 W 
 
 E RE a jolly old couple, our hair is gray, 
 
 But never a mite care we ; 
 Our lifeboat drifts on Time s tranquil tide, 
 
 And from trouble and care we re free ; 
 Our steps are slow and our frames are bent, - 
 
 There s a mist o er our dim old eyes ; 
 Yet cheerful we travel, hand in hand, 
 
 Neath pleasant or stormy skies ; 
 Many long years we ve journeyed on, 
 
 And the end we can almost see ; 
 But we re ready to go when the Master calls, 
 
 My dear old man and me. 
 
 Seventy years we struggled on, 
 
 Our trials were not a few ; 
 We raised our family best we could 
 
 Till each boy into manhood grew ; 
 Then they turned away from the threshold worn, 
 
 Afar through the world to roam, 
 Till the last loved one had passed away 
 
 From the silent and lonesome home ; 
 Three wedded the mates that their young hearts chose ; 
 
 Two travel the restless sea ; 
 So we live in the old house all alone, 
 
 My dear old man and me. 
 
 We chat o er the scenes of our youthful days, 
 
 And we laugh right merrily, 
 As we sit in the evening s quiet glow, 
 
 O er our cups of fragrant tea ; 
 For love dies not like the soft, dark tress, 
 
 Or the color of cheek s bright glow ;
 
 37 
 
 And our hearts are just as warm to-day 
 As they were long years ago ; 
 
 Together we stand on the mystic shore 
 Of Eternity s solemn sea, 
 
 And we trust we will safely cross to Him, 
 My dear old man and me. 
 
 GOING HOME. 
 
 O_OING home ! How strange it sounds to me ! 
 ^-4 I who for years have roamed o er land and sea ; 
 
 So long have clasped no hands save stranger s hands ; 
 
 So long made transient "homes" in foreign lands ; 
 I scarce can realize all the word implies. 
 
 Going home ! "for rest and peace," I say ! 
 Back to the place where first I saw the day ; 
 Shall I indeed my old friends faces see ? 
 Will they indeed in true faith welcome me ? 
 Or shall I find, alas, affection dies ? 
 
 Going home ! I wonder if the flowers 
 Are still as fragrant as in the childhood s hours ? 
 I wonder if the old tree s standing yet, 
 Beneath whose shade I ve watched the grand sunset 
 Gilding the rolling prairies of the west ? 
 
 Going home ! I eagerly return 
 Back to the hearth where dearest home-fires burn : 
 Though friends forget or fail to recognize, 
 Upon the scene I ll gaze with loving eyes, 
 
 My home the spot on earth I love the best !
 
 38 
 
 ILLINOIS. 
 
 CAN hear the bells a-chiming, 
 
 Bells that ring so loud and gay ; 
 Yet my thoughts to-day turn backward 
 
 To my home so far away ; 
 Round me flowers bud and blossom, 
 
 Softest southern breezes blow; 
 Though tis Christmas joyous morning, 
 
 Yet I see no frost or snow ; 
 I can hear the Spanish lady 
 
 Chant her strange, yet lovely tune ; 
 Near my window are magnolias, 
 
 And the orange s perfume ; 
 Yet my northern heart is restless 
 
 Longings wild my soul annoy 
 And I d rather see the snow gleam 
 
 On the plains of Illinois. 
 
 I have crossed the grand old " Rockies," 
 
 With their snow-capped heads so high, 
 Gazed down in their rugged bosoms, 
 
 Where the miner s treasures lie ; 
 Roamed o er Kansas Colorado, 
 
 (Beauteous " Switzerland of the West "); 
 Watched the turbid Rio Grande 
 
 Rushing on in wild unrest ; 
 Crossed the Gila Brazos Pecos 
 
 Gleaming rivers pure and bright ; 
 Watched the Indians as they gathered 
 
 Round their camp-fire s cheerful light ; 
 Plucked the loveliest southern blossoms, 
 
 Perfumed sweet, without alloy; 
 Yet I d rather have a violet 
 
 From the plains of Illinois.
 
 39 
 
 Wonder not my heart turns backward 
 
 From these bright but stranger scenes ; 
 That I m longing for the prairies, 
 
 With their placid, gliding streams ; 
 That I choose, from out her sisters, 
 
 Illinois to love the best, 
 And that none like her can ever 
 
 Hold first place within my breast ; 
 Mountains, valleys, caves and canons 
 
 Perfumed air, bewildering song, 
 Though they win me for a moment, 
 
 Do not claim my homage long, 
 I will tell you now the secret 
 
 Why I thus these scenes disown 
 As a child I roamed the prairies, 
 
 And Chicago is my home. 
 
 LOVE COMMANDS ALL. 
 
 HERE came to a laughing country maid, 
 
 One beautiful summer s day, 
 A fairy who bent at her tiny feet, 
 
 And in accents sweet did say : 
 "Thy merits so please our fairy queen, 
 
 She hath now commissioned me 
 
 X 
 
 To give thee the choice of four noble gifts, 
 
 Which I now will name to thee ; 
 Thus spake my queen: Doth she wish for gold, 
 
 Or honor, or love or fame, 
 Say I will send her of these four things 
 
 Whichever she chooses to name ;
 
 But ponder well ere you choose, dear maid, 
 For whatever thy choice shall be, 
 
 You must cling to it through all of life 
 And lose the other three." 
 
 The maiden paused and a troubled shade 
 
 Came over her features fair ; 
 " Twould be fine," she mused, " to have the gold 
 
 With those I love to share ; 
 But wealth alone could ne er supply 
 
 The wants of this heart of mine, 
 I can not dare not lay my all 
 
 On Mammon s gorgeous shrine; 
 And fame and honor by such as I 
 
 Are held but in light esteem ; 
 We value more the woods the flowers, 
 
 And the sun s warm, shining beam ; 
 The pets of the world s loud, praising crowds 
 
 Oft carry a heavy heart, 
 And for peace of mind and health and joy 
 
 With laurels would gladly part." 
 
 " And love " her cheek flushed a deeper hue, 
 
 And a soft light in her eye 
 Shone forth with a brilliant joyous flash, 
 
 That rivalled the sunlit sky. 
 " I have pondered well o er my choice, dear Fay, 
 
 And I ll take of thy queen s gifts free, 
 The one 1 deem will in future years 
 
 Prove the dearest and best to me ; 
 I choose that I ever may be beloved 
 
 By him whom my heart holds dear, 
 And that Love and I may never part, 
 
 Through all of my journey here."
 
 Quoth the fairy, " Thy choice is the richest one 
 
 That is e er to mortals given, 
 For a loving heart that s beloved again, 
 
 Finds the earth almost a heaven ! " 
 
 Then the light-winged fairy sped away 
 
 To her home in the shady glade, 
 And told her queen of the treasure chose 
 
 By the heart of the lovely maid. 
 Quoth the queen : " Tis well with the guileless girl; 
 
 Ho ! Fairies ! I charge thee, flee ! 
 And carry to her not love alone, 
 
 But also the other three ! 
 
 NOBODY CARES BUT MOTHER. 
 
 OULL many changes old Time has wrought 
 
 In my life, so strange eventful ; 
 And few I find who cheer me on, 
 
 But many I find who censure ; 
 And where er I go, and whene er the clouds 
 
 O er my troubled pathway hover, 
 I find it still, as in childhood s hours 
 
 That nobody cares but mother. 
 
 If the thorns pierce deep my way-worn feet, 
 
 And no resting-place to cheer me 
 Doth greet my eye, and my voice falls dead 
 
 On ears that refuse to hear me; 
 How quickly my strength doth seem renewed, 
 
 And light all my path doth cover; 
 Ah ! how speedy the cross that I bear grows light 
 
 By a cheering word from mother.
 
 Yes, friends of to-day may be kind and true, 
 
 And love me pure sincerely; 
 But no love on earth can e er replace 
 
 This which I prize so dearly ; 
 And when my journeying all are o er, 
 
 My sole wish is no other 
 Than that kindly Fate will take me back 
 
 To my childhood s home and mother. 
 
 BETRAYED. 
 
 E was of proud and high descent, 
 
 She was a peasant maid ; 
 She loved too well, alas ! alas ! 
 
 A heavy price she paid ; 
 O sob, ye winds, with solemn tone; 
 
 Sun, hide thy face from sight, 
 For she, so beautiful and fair, 
 
 Is dying with thy light ! 
 
 O, bright and sparkling was her eye, 
 
 With lips of rosy red; 
 A face as bright as yonder flower, 
 
 And raven curl-crowned head ! 
 So wan, so feeble lies she now ; 
 
 Birds ! hush that warbling gay : 
 Her lovely eyes will close in death 
 
 Before another day ! 
 
 A sad-eyed mother watches o er 
 Her daughter s fading life ; 
 
 She is her first-born still, 
 
 Although a mother, but no wife ;
 
 43 
 
 She loved she trusted was deceived 
 
 On her life fell the blight ; 
 Aye, whisper low, ye sobbing winds, 
 
 For she will die to-night. 
 *#### 
 
 Clasp her hands o er her bosom calm ; 
 
 Brush smooth her silken hair ; 
 Place her dead baby on her breast, 
 
 And kiss her brow so fair ; 
 God knoweth all He knoweth all 
 
 The wiles her love that won ; 
 At peace at last ! poor hapless girl ! 
 
 Thy earthly cares are done. 
 
 TO MY OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 TRUE old friends ! O kind old friends ! 
 
 Dear friends I loved of yore ! 
 Your memory dwells within my heart, 
 
 As I roam from shore to shore ; 
 I ve traveled far mid splendid scenes ; 
 
 O er mountain, hill and dell, 
 And many hands I ve clasped in mine 
 
 That knew and loved me well ; 
 But new-found friends supplant you not, 
 
 Ah ! still where er I roam, 
 My heart holds fast the mem ry of 
 
 Dear friends who are at home. 
 
 Come clasp my hands, ye honest friends, 
 
 That knew me from a child; 
 With whom so often merrily 
 
 I weary time beguiled ;
 
 44 
 
 I love to feel the fervent press 
 
 Of your dear hands again ; 
 I long to hear your voices loved 
 
 Call once again my name ; 
 Time brings great changes to all lives, - 
 
 But, till my days are o er, 
 My heart will hold a tender spot 
 
 For my dear old friends of yore. 
 
 IF. 
 
 F I could only dream again 
 
 The glad, bright dreams of long ago, 
 And tear from mem ry s full writ page 
 
 The scenes and deeds I so well know; 
 If I could only feel again 
 
 That honest trust in human kind, 
 And drive the doubt and weary pain 
 
 From out my tired, world-worn mind ; 
 
 If this could be methinks whate er 
 
 Unto my lot might then be sent, 
 I d bear with uncomplaining heart, 
 
 And mid all trials be content, 
 Friends of my youth ! return, return ! 
 
 Kind friends of yore ! come clasp my hand 
 O leave me not alone to toil 
 
 O er life s wild, rugged land ! 
 
 Vain is my call. Their faces loved 
 The scenes of earth no longer know ; 
 
 Deep with my youthful dreams they re hid 
 Within the grave of long ago.
 
 45 
 
 I hurry on. Few, few I meet 
 
 Can to my heart give answering tone, 
 
 And when mid gay and careless crowds 
 Tis then I am the most alone. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 TO A FRIEND. 
 
 | THINK of me, 
 
 Though now our barks upon life s troubled sea 
 Shall drift apart. Though it may chance to be 
 That never more as in the pleasant past 
 Our paths shall side by side again be cast. 
 Yet, whatso er may be thy future lot, 
 
 Forget me not. 
 
 Remember me, 
 
 And if thou findest that the new found friends 
 Prove like a reed in every wind that bends, 
 O then bethink thee of the one afar, 
 Whose love shines o er thee like a watching star, 
 Whose fondest thoughts are centred all on thee, 
 Where er thou be. 
 
 But, dearest one, 
 
 If thou art beset by life s relentless storms, 
 If friends prove false ; if thy lone spirit mourns, 
 And footsore, heartsick, you would fain find rest, 
 Upon a loving and a faithful breast ; 
 If e er (which God forbid) such time should be, 
 Haste unto me.
 
 4 6 
 
 LINES. 
 
 ON HEARING A GENTLEMAN SAY THE SPIRIT OF HIS DEAD W 
 SEEMED ALWAYS NEAR HIM. 
 
 HE is not dead. 
 
 I feel, I know that she is ever near, 
 Her loving tones still ring upon my ear, 
 And cheer my soul as in the days of yore, 
 And though on earth I ne er shall see her more, 
 
 She has not fled. 
 
 Her soul lives still. 
 It lingers ever round my onward way, 
 With its pure presence blessing every day. 
 Beloved wife ! her faith and constancy, 
 And her deep love and confidence in me 
 
 Death could not kill. 
 
 Her graceful frame, 
 
 Whose presence filled with joy my happy home, 
 Is hid from view, and I am left alone. 
 But still her gentle spirit comes to me. 
 And thus, despite the grave s dark mystery, 
 
 She lives again. 
 
 So on in life 
 
 I journey with a cheerful, thankful heart, 
 And humbly bear of toil and care my part. 
 Soon will I clasp her cherished form once more, 
 Soon will I meet upon yon blissful shore 
 
 My angel wife.
 
 47 
 
 GOD S CHRISTMAS GIFT, 
 
 / TWAS Christmas day, 
 ^r The pure snow lay 
 Deep o er the slumbering, silent earth ; 
 While all around 
 Was heard the sound 
 Of innocent, careless, heartfelt mirth. 
 
 By rushed a throng, 
 With laugh and song, 
 
 Of school-girls chatting of Christmas cheer ; 
 Unheeding one 
 Who, pale and young, 
 And empty-handed, lingered near. 
 
 As they passed away, 
 With hearts so gay, 
 I turned to the maiden standing near, 
 And gaily said, 
 As she raised her head, 
 ",Well, what did Santa bring you, dear? " 
 
 Her dark brown eyes 
 
 Looked their surprise, 
 As she said, "O Miss, we are but poor; 
 
 We deem it wealth, 
 
 If perfect health 
 And food are plenty within our door. 
 
 "So, Miss, you see 
 
 That such as we 
 Are well content these toys to spare. 
 
 I covet not 
 
 A richer lot, 
 Of greater treasures I have a share.
 
 4 8 
 
 For one above 
 
 In gracious love, 
 Th s day to me has kindly given 
 
 A pleasure rare, 
 
 A gem most fair, 
 It is the Christian s hope of Heaven. 
 
 " Last night so plain 
 This message came, 
 For thee was Jesus crucified. 
 He reigns above, 
 
 trust his love, 
 
 And he will be thy refuge guide." 
 
 Her eyes were raised 
 
 To meet my gaze, 
 As she said (I still her image see), 
 
 "He died for me, 
 
 Low as I be, 
 Christ was God s Christmas gift to me." 
 
 1 bowed my head, 
 No word I said, 
 
 A lesson deep in my heart was laid. 
 
 O would that I 
 
 Could look on high, 
 With the trust and faith of that little maid I 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 RIGHT, happy childish face, 
 That beams with fairy grace, 
 
 Loved one so dear ; 
 Thy little dancing form, 
 Resplent with baby charm, 
 
 Sheds sunshine here.
 
 49 
 
 That little rosy palm, 
 And snowy, dimpled arm, 
 
 And brow so fair, 
 Seem formed to bless the earth, 
 And change to happiness 
 
 The darkest care. 
 
 Thy voice so sweet and clean, 
 And tiny feet e er near, 
 
 And loving heart, 
 Unto my troubled breast, 
 So full of wild unrest, 
 
 Sweet calm impart. 
 
 Dear child, in thee I find 
 One who with constant mind, 
 
 Loves me alone ; 
 Whose lisped words are truth, 
 Whose love of honest youth 
 
 Is all my own. 
 
 BRIDAL AND FUNERAL FLOWERS. 
 
 " QRIDAL and funeral flowers." 
 _ Those were the words it bore, 
 Shining in letters bright, 
 Over the florist s door. 
 
 " Bridal and funeral flowers," 
 
 Coupling thus as one 
 The bride and the cold, stiff corse, 
 
 Whose race of life is run.
 
 One who will soon go forth 
 
 A happy, trusting wife, 
 And one who in Death s calm sleep 
 
 Is safe from the cares of life. 
 
 As I read the words I think 
 
 Tis in white they robe the bride, 
 
 When she stands in modest grace 
 By her chosen husband s side. 
 
 And in white they clothe the corse, 
 
 While the cold, pale hand, perchance, 
 
 Holds the mate to the bridal flower, 
 Perhaps from the selfsame branch. 
 
 "Bridal and funeral flowers," 
 Blooming there side by side, 
 
 To be placed in the dead s cold hand, 
 Or twined in the hair of the bride. 
 
 "Bridal and funeral flowers," 
 Happiness death and gloom, 
 
 Written thus side by side, 
 
 Life and the dark, cold tomb. 
 
 But who is the one to tell 
 
 Which is most truly blest ? 
 The bride in her youthful pride, 
 
 Or she who is safe at rest ? 
 
 UNDER THE WILLOW. 
 
 NDER the willow I stand to-night, 
 
 And the stars above shed solemn light 
 O er the scene I have come to view once more, 
 Ere I leave forever my native shore.
 
 Under the willow I stand and gaze 
 
 On the ruined home of my youthful days ; 
 
 What vanished bliss my heart recalls, 
 
 As I look on the stained and crumbled walls. 
 
 Within that home I was born and bred ; 
 There sounded my sister s and brother s tread. 
 In that home were spent the happy years 
 Ere I faced the world with its toil and fears. 
 
 Within its walls died, one by one, 
 
 The loving parents, the children young ; 
 
 And I alone am left to gaze 
 
 On its ruined walls, neath the stars calm rays. 
 
 Can all these years have passed ? It seems 
 But a day when amid these remembered scenes 
 Though my eye then bright, is dimmed now, 
 And deep, dark wrinkles mark my brow. 
 
 Home, churchyard willow! I leave you all ; 
 Those long past years I cannot recall ; 
 The pain it costs me I cannot tell, 
 To turn away with a sad farewell. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 
 
 jEARLY loved one, thou hast vanished, 
 Thy bright baby form has perished ; 
 
 Thou art now beyond the stars. 
 Nevermore we ll hear thee singing, 
 With thy voice so clear and ringing ; 
 Mem ry only now is ours.
 
 Though my heart is full of sadness, 
 And my life seems void of gladness, 
 
 Since thy childish form has fled ; 
 Still, I would not now recall thee ; 
 Better far that thou should st calmly 
 
 Slumber with the quiet dead. 
 
 Better, ere thy heart so blithesome, 
 Learned how sad, and drear, and toilsome 
 
 Is the lot of all on earth ; 
 Ere the time when thou would st sadly 
 Wish thy mother (grieving fondly) 
 
 Ne er had given thee thy birth. 
 
 Round thy grave bright flowers are springing, 
 And the notes of wild birds singing, 
 
 Fill the air at eventide. 
 O er thy headstone, coldly gleaming, 
 Summer sun so brightly streaming, 
 
 Seemeth longest to abide. 
 
 Peaceful is thy quiet slumber; 
 Thou among the heavenly number, 
 
 Safe from care will ever be. 
 When my journey is completed, 
 May we then be re-united 
 
 In the glad Eternity.
 
 53 
 
 MY BIRD S SONG. 
 
 IS a stormy day and the heavy clouds 
 
 Hang low with a frowning mien ; 
 The rain pours down and no friendly ray 
 
 From old hidden Sol is seen. 
 I sit alone in my study here, 
 
 And wish that the clouds were gone, 
 While Dick, my bird, in his cage near by 
 
 Sings to me through the storm. 
 
 Anon the clouds of the deepest dye 
 
 Are cleft by the lightning s flash, 
 And the rain with fury fierce and wild, 
 
 Gainst my window pane doth dash. 
 But Dick unheeds the dark outside; 
 
 (In the South first he saw the dawn), 
 And as if he was mong his native hills, 
 
 Sings to me through the storm. 
 
 And I smile as I hear his merry lay, 
 
 As it rings so quaint and sweet, 
 As I watch the poise of his dainty head, 
 
 And the dance of his busy feet. 
 My eye grows bright, and my weary brain 
 
 Forgets it is racked and worn, 
 And I say, "sing on, my merry bird, 
 
 O sing to me through the storm." 
 
 # # # * # * 
 
 O, would that all in this selfish world, 
 
 In the hurrying, grasping throng, 
 Could have in their souls a hidden hope, 
 
 Or a love that is deep and strong, 
 That would light their lives with a gleam of light 
 
 When time leaves them bereft and worn, 
 And ring in their hearts through the world s mad strife 
 
 Like my bird s song through the storm.
 
 54 
 
 FOOTSTEPS ON THE STAIR. 
 
 ITTING in my room at twilight, 
 
 In the last faint sunset s glow, 
 Watching the fast coming shadows 
 
 Flitting softly to and fro. 
 Hushed is now all busy turmoil, 
 
 Ended is the day of care, 
 And I, listening, wait the coming 
 
 Of a footstep on the stair. 
 
 Hark ! I hear the firm tread sounding, 
 
 Eagerly he comes to meet 
 One he knows awaits his coming, 
 
 One who waits with welcome sweet. 
 Though to others I am humble, 
 
 In his eyes I am most fair; 
 Sweetest music to my hearing 
 
 Is his footstep on the stair. 
 
 Lo, he comes ! Ah, when Life s over, 
 
 And my days on earth are past, 
 When my heart, so strange and wayward, 
 
 Shall be silent calm at last, 
 Love dies not my soul in Heaven, 
 
 Though within that realm so fair, 
 Still will watch for you, my darling, 
 
 Coming up the golden stair.
 
 55 
 
 LINES. 
 
 TO AN OLD FRIEND. 
 
 MET the friend I loved when but a child, 
 And as I clasped again his honest hand 
 And looked once more into his earnest eyes 
 I was the happiest mortal in the land. 
 The long years sped since last I saw his face 
 Seemed but a dream a dream most strange and wild, 
 For by his side the years seemed lifted up, 
 And I again a careless, happy child. 
 Yet pause I even now to note the change 
 The stamp of manhood shows upon his face, 
 While on my brow are lines of anxious care 
 (The lot of all in Life s eventful race,) 
 
 Yet O what joy ! (and joys in life are few,) 
 It is to see your face, O friend so true ! 
 
 O cruel Time ! to thus so quickly speed, 
 And leave your traces on our hearts and brows. 
 Relentless Time ! that crushes out our youth, 
 Before whose power the mightiest mortal bows, 
 Yet, ah ! you cannot touch the sacred Past, 
 Nor turn to blank Youth s written pages fair, 
 When Love was truth and Friendship not a name, 
 And Childhood built its " castles in the air." 
 So tarry by my side, beloved friend ; 
 Take once again my hand within your own, 
 And let me sit and look upon your face, 
 And listen to your voice s kindly tone. 
 
 Friends of To-day, I do not doubt their truth, 
 But, ah ! they cannot be the friends of youth.
 
 56 
 
 ONLY A TRESS OF HAIR. 
 
 jNLY a tress of soft, dark hair, 
 
 And yet twill be, 
 Whatever fate this world may bring, 
 
 Most dear to me. 
 
 The head this tress adorned 
 
 Has laid in rest, 
 In true, confiding love, 
 
 Upon my breast. 
 
 The tress was severed then 
 
 That it might be 
 A token dear from her, my friend, 
 
 Who so loved me. 
 
 Dark storms have crossed my path 
 
 Since last we met, 
 And yet her dear and loving face 
 
 I ll ne er forget. 
 
 The sweet, low voice is silent now, 
 
 The head laid low, 
 And o er her grave on yonder hill 
 
 The flowers grow. 
 
 Time brought me many trials sore, 
 
 And heavy care, 
 And yet I fondly cherish still 
 
 Her tress of hair.
 
 57 
 
 OLD LOVE SONGS. 
 
 WAS singing to-day the o!d love songs 
 
 With their plaintive tones so low, 
 The old love songs that I sang for you 
 
 In the far-off long ago ; 
 And as I sung the sweet refrain 
 
 Of each well-remembered lay, 
 My mind was musing all the while 
 
 Where you might be to-day ? 
 
 Twas long ago on a summer s eve 
 
 When you were by my side, 
 And I was a laughing, careless thing, 
 
 Your childlike promised bride, 
 I sang as the birds sing merrily, 
 
 And my voice was full and free, 
 But the meaning hid in the tender words, 
 
 Was not then plain to me. 
 
 Time flies ! I am here and you afar. 
 
 With the long miles stretched between ; 
 Life s cares have blotted the fairy dream, 
 
 And changed our lots I ween. 
 I do not regret it is better so 
 
 Yet my tears they fall like rain, 
 As I hum to myself the plaintive strains 
 
 Of those old love songs again. 
 
 For before me rises a laughing face, 
 
 Youthful and free from guile, 
 A child, within whose bosom pure 
 
 Were innocent thoughts the while, 
 Who trusted her kind with an honest trust, 
 
 Gave to all her pure love s wealth ; 
 But I scarce can recognize in her, 
 
 My cold, world-hardened self.
 
 The tears they come, and I let them fall, 
 
 But I do not weep for you, 
 I weep for my vanished, youthful dreams 
 
 Of all things good and true. 
 I weep that Time has torn the veil 
 
 That Fancy hung afar. 
 And that now I see with a worldly eye 
 
 All things as they truly are. 
 
 So I ll sing no more the old love songs 
 
 That I sung so long ago, 
 A laughing girl, as you listening sat 
 
 In the twilight s peaceful glow, 
 Their strains suit not my present lot 
 
 With their tender words of truth, 
 And their plaintive tones seem a requiem, 
 
 Sung o er the deep grave of youth. 
 
 IMPOSSIBILITIES. 
 
 \fO\J cannot wake the singer s song, 
 
 When dumb is the voice of the singer ; 
 You cannot start a torrent forth, 
 
 If dry is the source of the river ; 
 You cannot ring sweet chiming tones 
 
 From a bell of the coarsest metal, 
 Nor race with a common, plodding horse, 
 
 That has no pride or mettle. 
 No more within a human heart 
 
 Can generous thoughts be hoarded, 
 Kind words be spoke good actions done- 
 
 If the soul is mean and sordid.
 
 59 
 
 So ope your hearts, all ye who read, 
 
 And end this selfish grasping, 
 Be generous, frank be honest, true, 
 
 Let Friendship s ties be lasting, 
 Reach out and aid deserving poor, 
 
 Soothe all you can of sorrow ; 
 Don t fawn upon a man to-day 
 
 And slander him to-morrow. 
 This world He made so beautiful, 
 
 Why fill so full of trouble ? 
 Why smile, when some poor brother s path 
 
 Is filled with thorns and stubble ? 
 
 O shame that man to fellow man, 
 
 Doth oft deal hate unbounded ! 
 That rather than to cheer him on 
 
 They try to drag him downward ! 
 Expand your soul with noble thoughts 
 
 Drive out all there that s sordid, 
 No kindly act was ever done 
 
 Conscience has not rewarded. 
 Be just, be kind joy s sun will shine 
 
 On you with rays undimming, 
 If, in your heart, you feel the world 
 
 Is better for your living. 
 
 IN MEMORIAL 
 
 LOVED you so 
 
 That when you passed away from out my path, 
 O er day s bright sun for me a cloud was cast, 
 I was so lonely living was a pain ; 
 I thought my lips would never smile again, 
 I loved you so.
 
 6o 
 
 You passed away. 
 
 I stood as stranger on a foreign strand, 
 And groped in space for your beloved hand. 
 With throngs about me who in kindness spoke, 
 My heart, I think, on that sad day was broke, 
 You passed away. 
 
 The years rolled by 
 
 And newer forms and loves came to my lot ; 
 They comrades were but you were not forgot, 
 In Mem ry s hall you sat upon your throne 
 King of my love the sceptre all your own, 
 The years rolled by. 
 
 Twas long ago, 
 
 And yet with whitened hair and trembling frame 
 I listen still to hear your voice again, 
 And eager scan the faces passing by, 
 Until remembrance comes and then I sigh 
 " Twas long ago." 
 
 "I WANT MY BALLOON." 
 
 S I walked down the street one bright sunny day, 
 
 A comical sight met my gaze ; 
 A scene that for mixture of sorrow and fun, 
 
 Will haunt me through all of my days : 
 On the walk stood a child, who with Injun-like " yells 
 
 Of dismay, stared up to the sky, 
 Where a tiny, red object was floating away
 
 6i 
 
 And fast growing dim to the eye ; 
 As nearer I came he loudly bawled out, 
 " I don t want to lose it so soon, 
 
 please catch it quickly ! O make it come back ! 
 I want my nice, pretty balloon ! " 
 
 " Little lad," then I said, it will never return ; 
 
 Why did you let go of the string ? 
 Pray did you not know when you loosened your hold 
 
 Your plaything would surely take wing? 
 " Why ma am," sobbed the child, I thought it would stay 
 
 And float close above me, until 
 
 1 wearied of watching it bob up and down, 
 
 And could draw it back to me at will ; 
 O, won t you please stop it ? it s floating away ! 
 
 I don t want to lose it so soon ! 
 O somebody catch it ! it s going so fast ! 
 
 Do stop my nice, rosy balloon ! " 
 
 Ah ! many there be in this world s busy throng, 
 
 Who held in their hands the frail string 
 That bound to themselves wealth, laurels or love, 
 
 Or some other valuable thing ; 
 But alas ! like the child, they loosened their grasp, 
 
 Perhaps merely testing their power, 
 But realized too late what their recklessness wrought, 
 
 As they watched it soar bove them so far ; 
 Then frantic, they strove their hold to regain, 
 
 But too oft tis humanity s doom, 
 To, by their own folly, lose what they prize most, 
 
 And then cry for their vanished balloon!
 
 62 
 
 MY CHOICE. 
 
 BY A GIRL OF THE PERIOD. 
 
 D HAVE a lover brave and true, 
 
 A fond adorer ever ; 
 Who ll woo me with untiring zeal, 
 
 And be inconstant never ; 
 Who ll boldly seek and gain my hand, 
 
 And "bounce" each other "feller ; 
 Who if a rival dared approach, 
 
 Would hit him on the "smeller." 
 
 I d have him have a heart and soul 
 
 O erflowed with truth and daring ; 
 Who knew his rights and claimed them too, 
 
 Without a shade of fearing ; 
 Who d ever press his earnest suit 
 
 With honest, manly spirit ; 
 Who d want my love, and dare to strive 
 
 Before all men to win it. 
 
 Some girls would like a handsome chap, 
 
 Who brings them rings and candy ; 
 Some like a man with lots of " tin," 
 
 And some could love a dandy ; 
 Some like a timid chap who e er 
 
 Twixt hope and fear doth hover ; 
 But none of these could suit my mind, 
 
 I want a dashing lover. 
 
 He need not be so very rich, 
 If he do love but me,
 
 And does not flirt with other girls 
 When I m not near to see ; 
 
 If such a fellow breathes on earth 
 On him my heart is set, 
 
 And when I catch a sight of him 
 I ll set my cap " you bet. 
 
 WANTED: A WIFE. 
 
 BY A BACHELOR. 
 
 M WHAT the cold world calls a " bach, 
 
 I m looking for a wife ; 
 Some gentle and obedient girl, 
 
 To bless my lonely life ; 
 I ve waited now for forty years 
 
 But never met my doom, 
 And so to-day I advertise, 
 
 In hopes to find her soon. 
 
 I have a span of splendid grays, 
 
 A " nobby " carriage too ; 
 Have lots of " stamps" am 5 ft. 6 
 
 Kind, generous and true ; 
 But, to all widows seeing this, 
 
 I herewith do imply, 
 That I abhor all " relics," so 
 
 No widows need apply I 
 
 And to old maids both tall and short, 
 
 I solemnly do state, 
 That I would sooner die than have 
 
 A spinster for my mate ;
 
 6 4 
 
 Their fate waits toward the setting sun, 
 They ll please the men there best, 
 
 To spinsters, I (like Greeley) say ; 
 "Go west," old girls, "Go west." 
 
 I want a lovely, sprightly miss 
 
 Of eighteen years, or- less, 
 With raven hair and eyes of jet, 
 
 And greatest taste in dress ; 
 She must be learned and rich to such 
 
 A willing slave am I, 
 And here I say to one and .all, 
 
 No others need apply. 
 
 "OLD YALLER." 
 
 OR "BETTING MONEY ON THE WRONG DOG. 
 
 HIS happened way out in the " diggins," 
 
 An Bill run a gin-shop out thar ; 
 He was sort of an onery customer, 
 
 With a squint an a shock o red hair ; 
 He had an old dorg he called " Yaller," 
 
 Bill said he was great on the fight ; 
 But Lord ! we thought he was lyin , 
 
 Or talkin because he was tight. 
 
 But it seems Bill, over in England, 
 
 Was a " dorg fightin man," as they say, 
 An that this here mean-lookin old " Yaller," 
 
 Had licked every dorg in his way ; 
 He was a meek lookin old cretur, . 
 
 He d "make up " with the men old an young, 
 But a rale rip-tarer when started, 
 
 As you ll see when my story is done.
 
 One day a young chap struck the " diggins," 
 
 He was travelin on to New York 
 With a bull-purp could lick a hyena 
 
 To believe all his long-winded talk ; 
 Durn my skin, but his dorg was a stunner. 
 
 Trim an stout, iron-jawed an red-eyed ; 
 An none on us doubted the cretur 
 
 Could show rale game fight, when he tried. 
 
 Wai, this chap an his dorg was one mornin 
 
 Sort o loafin around nigh Bill s bar, 
 When old " Yaller " came trottin in meek-like, 
 
 (He allus was sneakin round thar) ; 
 The bull-purp started for Yaller," 
 
 But the New York chap collared his pup, 
 And hollered out, "Shut up that dorg thar, 
 
 If you don t want him total chawed up." 
 
 " You see my dorg s trained for a fighter, 
 
 An when he sees dorg, black or white, 
 He ll pitch in if I ain t a watchin , 
 
 An chaw the same dorg out of sight ; 
 I d hate like the devil to have him 
 
 Kill that good natured old dorg o yourn, 
 But keep him tied up while I m here, Bill, 
 
 Or he s gone dorg sure as you re born." 
 
 Bill grinned, then he said, "why, old Yaller, 
 
 He s no good all the time in the way, 
 Spose we have a dorg-fight in the bar-room, 
 
 Come stranger, what do you say ; 
 An to make the thing sort o excitin , 
 
 As Yaller s my dorg, I ll just bet 
 One hundred, that he in ten minutes, 
 
 Will clean out yer prize-fightin pet."
 
 66 
 
 " Poor Yaller/ " says Bill, sort o soft-like, 
 
 " Yer time has most come for to die," 
 An" " Yaller" looked up tail a waggin , 
 
 With a kind o sly wink in his eye ; 
 An Bill hollered out, " Come on in boys, 
 
 Come an see this ere prize-nghtin pup, 
 (We must have some little excitement), 
 
 So he s goin to chaw Yaller up." 
 
 Wai we come in, each man held his dorg thar ; 
 
 Old " Yaller " was snarlin like mad, 
 An you bet the bull-purp was a snappin 
 
 A lookin most all-fired bad ; 
 At the word the dorgs met in a minnit 
 
 Yaller had the prize dorg by the throat, 
 An he shook, an he chawed, never givin 
 
 The bull-purp a chance for a holt. 
 
 An he shook till the purp " kicked the bucket," 
 
 Then he trotted quite cool like away 
 As if he d done nothin uncommon, 
 
 But chawed up bull-purps every day ; 
 An Bill gobbled up the bet money, 
 
 Smilin like at the defunct bull-purp, 
 An says he, Who else here s got a dorg now 
 
 That wants to chaw old Yaller up /> " 
 
 The city chap sneaked off quite quiet, 
 
 An left for New York the next day ; 
 Old " Yaller " is trottin around yet, 
 
 Quite innercent-like in his way ; 
 Bill s jolly as ever an boastin 
 
 An braggin about his old pup, 
 An never gets tired a tellin 
 
 How the prize dorg chawed old " Yaller up.
 
 67 
 
 I LL BET YER A DOLLAR." 
 
 IS strange how betting is " coming in style," 
 
 All bet, both the great and the small, 
 And precious few people we meet now-a-days 
 
 Who do no betting at all. 
 I ll bet you a dollar " s the favorite sum now, 
 
 So I ll "fall in" and "follow in line," 
 And bet with the rest as my pen scribbles off 
 
 This simple and rough little rhyme. 
 
 If you meet a man who is seedy and poor, 
 
 And not got a cent to his name ; 
 If you reach out your hand and help him along, 
 
 Once more independence to gain ; 
 When he gets a firm stand by your liberal aid, 
 
 And is well up Prosperity s hill, 
 He may vow that your kindness he ll never forget, 
 
 But "I ll bet yer a dollar " he will. 
 
 A young gentleman escorts a young lady home 
 
 From a party or ball as may be, 
 And stops at the gate for a moment or so, 
 
 And longs for a kiss, do you see? 
 If he snatch one the lady may hurry away 
 
 With the look of a much injured saint, 
 And vow "she s insulted ! " and " terribly vexed ! " 
 
 But "I ll bet yer a dollar" she ain t. 
 
 An old bachelor sits in his dingy old room, 
 With a scowl on his crabbed old face ; 
 
 With no children to prattle around his hearth-stone, 
 And no kind wife his table to grace ;
 
 68 
 
 He may sneer at young couples, and call them "poor fools/ 
 Laugh to scorn each proud, happy young " dad" ; 
 
 He may swear he is pleased with his bachelor state, 
 But " I ll bet yer a dollar" he s sad. 
 
 But I ll close now my silly and strange little verse, 
 
 And afflict the kind reader no more ; 
 If indeed anybody has patience enough 
 
 To con these rude sentences o er ; 
 Don t find fault, I pray, nor ask where s the sense 
 
 Of this rambling poem (?) or rant"; 
 Don t insist that the meaning to you I make plain, 
 
 For " I bet yer a dollar " I can t. 
 
 DEACON GRAY. 
 
 LD Deacon Gray was as mean a man 
 
 As I ve seen for many a day ; 
 He d steal and lie for the sake of a dime, 
 
 And rob all who came in his way ; 
 He d steal the cents from a dead man s eyes, 
 
 Yet loud would he cant and pray ; 
 "So much ahead," he d say to himself 
 
 As he hoarded the pennies away. 
 
 Yet Deacon Gray was a "pious" man, 
 
 He was member of church and choir ; 
 Though he starved his children and wife and " beat " 
 
 His poor laborers out their hire ; 
 He stole a cow from his neighbor s herd 
 
 Stole wood from his neighbor s pile ; 
 " So much ahead," said Deacon Gray, 
 
 "I ll be rich in a little while ! "
 
 6 9 
 
 Well, Deacon Gray he died one day, 
 
 Like the rest of poor human race, 
 And his soul went out of its case of clay, 
 
 And soared to unknown space ; 
 The Devil met him with leer and grin, 
 
 For the Devil s heart was gay ; 
 " I m a soul ahead ! Come on ! ha ! ha 
 
 Said the Devil to Deacon Gray. 
 
 "BIG INJUN." 
 
 E came and sat by our camp fire 
 
 With a savage s proud disdain. 
 He was gaudy with paint and feathers, 
 
 " Big Eagle " was his name ; 
 I asked him to tell of his exploits, 
 
 Of deeds that gained him his fame, 
 And he folded his blanket about him, 
 
 And began in the following strain : 
 
 "Me Uncle Sam s good Injun ; 
 
 Me big chief of Cheyenne ; 
 Me steal me cuss drink firewater, 
 
 All same like pale face men ; 
 Me got me squaws heap plenty ; 
 
 Pappooses me got nine ; 
 Heap much good grub and blankets ; 
 
 Have heap much bully good time ; 
 Nine moons me go on war-path, 
 
 Kill much steal ponies heap ; 
 By by Injun tired out righting, 
 
 Uncle Sam send coffee bread meat ; 
 Then Injun go back to wigwam
 
 Much cold ground all over snow ; 
 When summer come, then me fight more ; 
 
 Then me go Washington* maybe so. 
 Uncle Sam forget bout Injun, 
 
 No send nough coffee bread meat ; 
 Then Injun him kill all soldiers, 
 
 Burn ranch scalp steal much heap 
 Now all time me good Injun ; 
 
 Big Eagle great chief no lie ; 
 Me got good grub and blankets 
 
 Uncle Sam bully boy glass eye." 
 ****** 
 
 O ravers o er pitiful stories 
 
 Of the "poor persecuted red men," 
 If you want to be cured of your folly, 
 
 Come and gaze on the noble (?) Cheyenne. 
 
 A WOMAN S EXPLANATION. 
 
 W 
 
 ELL, yes, I did go walking 
 
 On yesterday with Jim, 
 But, Jack, you know he s but a friend, 
 
 You needn t care for him. 
 We walked down in the woodland, 
 
 The birds sweet songs to hear ; 
 He squeezed my hand but but I fancied 
 
 He was you, my dear. 
 
 Last week we went out sailing, 
 A few miles down the bay ; 
 I went to help pass time, dear Jack, 
 While you were far away. 
 
 * It is the ardent wish of most of the chiefs of the different reservations to be se 
 to Washington.
 
 His arm got round my waist, 
 
 But how, I never can make clear ; 
 
 He kissed me once but but I fancied 
 He was you, my dear. 
 
 There now ! he s gone ! and angry too ! 
 
 What have I said that s wrong ? 
 He thinks when he s away I should 
 
 Sit grieving all day long ! 
 " I flirt ! " "I false ? " Well, I declare ! 
 
 I ll spoil his little plan ! 
 / // never speak to him again ! 
 
 The wretched, jealous man ! 
 
 THE OLD MAID. 
 
 THERE S many old maids in this world of ours, 
 r Old maids short, and old maids tall, 
 Old maids lean and old maids stout, 
 Old maids, too many to name or call, 
 But I ll tell of an old maid, well known to me, 
 A staid old maiden of forty-three. 
 
 She pities poor wives with minds bowed down 
 With their weight of household and family care, 
 With their cranky husbands to fret and fume, 
 To spit on the carpet, and drink and swear. 
 " I d like to see a man boss over me ! " 
 Said the wrathy old maiden of forty-three. 
 
 For lovers she feels supremest scorn, 
 
 If she catches them courting she gets quite wild, 
 
 She lectures the poor girl, and says " I ne er
 
 72 
 
 Heard tell of such actions when I was a child. 
 No beast of a man ever dared to hug me ! " 
 Said this prudish old maiden of forty-three. 
 
 "Now there s Mrs. J., with her pair of twins, 
 
 The racket they keep up is fit to kill ; 
 
 And she, poor thing, tries night and day 
 
 With soothing syrup to keep em still, 
 
 No colicky young ones are squalling round me !" 
 
 Says this crabbed old maiden of forty-three. 
 
 " Men, horrid wretches deceitful herd ! 
 
 They re a stumbling-block for poor womankind, 
 
 If one should ask me to marry him, 
 
 I tell you I d give him a piece of my mind. 
 
 There s women fools plenty now-a-days without me," 
 
 Said this stately old maiden of forty-three. 
 ******* 
 
 Perhaps she means every word that she says, 
 
 But when I saw her on yesterday, 
 
 I noticed she d dressed herself quite " to death," 
 
 And was trying her best to seem young and gay. 
 
 The "talk" is, she s trying to catch Deacon Lee 
 
 (Of course, that s nothing to you or me) 
 
 So "go it " old maiden of forty-three. 
 
 A WARNING TO POETS. 
 
 ^NE summer s day as I was idly musing, 
 
 And time most heavy on my hands did hang, 
 As listlessly I watched the street s crowd passing 
 And heard their different common phrases, slang, 
 It grieved me sore, I sighed " Alas ! " to listen
 
 73 
 
 To those slang words they spoke so light and gay, 
 And soon, impatient closed my window shutter, 
 And started out to walk the time away. 
 
 As on I trod in restless, careless humor, 
 
 I to a grand old wood my steps did wind, 
 
 In hopes some great poetical effusion 
 
 Would come to me to better all mankind, 
 
 I sat me down beside a murmuring brooklet, 
 
 Whose waters danced along the golden sand, 
 
 To thee I ll sing ! O gleaming mass of brightness ! " 
 
 I cried, and took my poet s pen in hand. 
 
 I started thus : "O water pure and sparkling, 
 
 That rushes on unto the moaning sea, 
 
 A charm lies in your crystal gleaming bosom ; 
 
 A charm ! a hallowed charm for such as me, 
 
 Your limpid waters bright ! O how they gush " 
 
 I paused an Echo seemed to say 
 
 "O let er gush ! " 
 
 Such base remark drove all grand thoughts away, 
 
 And more I grieved about our English slang, 
 
 But soon a lovely lily caught my eye, 
 
 That o er the glistening water-edge did hang. 
 
 " O lily fair ! " I cried, " so tall and stately, 
 
 As pure and lovely as a virgin s brow ! 
 
 Thy spotless leaves, alas, ah must they crumble ? " 
 
 I paused for thought, and Echo laughing said 
 
 "O take a tumble." 
 
 With angry heart I hastened from the spot, 
 Into another glade most dear to me, 
 And here, my Muse inspired then my pen, 
 By sight of a grand, stately, old oak tree, 
 " Old hoary king of forest, strong and noble,
 
 74 
 
 That proudly stands through all the winter hard." 
 I paused, and heard the sneering Echo whisper 
 Through all the hills around, 
 
 "O cheese it, pard ! " 
 
 I wildly strove to drive the slangy phrases 
 So common to this age out of my head, 
 And to a valley deep, where violets blossomed, 
 I next did turn my poem-seeking tread. 
 " O modest little flowers ! " I cried exultant ; 
 " Ye that I culled, a merry, careless child ! " 
 I paused, and heard the distant Echo whisper, 
 And murmur softly round 
 
 " O draw it mild ! " 
 
 " O Echo ! " then I cried; "like all the nation 
 
 You re using slang, I plainly now can see ; 
 
 I ll hie me to my calm and quiet study, 
 
 Where silence reigns, where naught can trouble me." 
 
 Indignant then I turned my footsteps homeward, 
 
 While Echo answered back 
 
 "O tra lale!" 
 * ***** 
 
 O poets young, O poets old and hoary, 
 O poets who the woodland s praises sang, 
 No use to hie you there to coax the Muses, 
 For Echo you will find is using slang. 
 
 THE OMEN. 
 
 WO lovers sat watching one bright summer night, 
 
 Hand in hand, cheek to cheek, the moon s beams, 
 Enjoying the present, the future unheeding, 
 Their hearts all aglow with their own happy dreams.
 
 75 
 
 The beautiful sky, by no cloudlet bedimmed, 
 
 Strewn thickly with stars, was as blue 
 As the eye of the maiden, who dreamily pondered, 
 
 And listened to promises seemingly true. 
 
 As they looked, two large stars in the heavens above 
 Fixed their gaze ; "That is mine," said the youth, 
 
 " As that star is my love ever constant and bright, 
 As that star everlasting my truth ;" 
 
 "The other is mine. Brilliant omen of fate 1" 
 
 As she spoke blushes dyed her fair cheek, 
 The innocent thoughts to her lips found their way 
 
 And she spoke as love only can speak. 
 
 Long sat they thus gazing, all trouble forgetting 
 
 Not noting a cloud from afar, 
 Which drifting quite slowly but steadily gaining, 
 
 Soon covered his clear, shining star. 
 
 That instant her star like a meteor flashed, 
 
 It sparkled and fell to the ground, 
 Where it died leaving vacant the place it had brightened, 
 
 So now neither star could be found. 
 
 As trembling they saw the fair tokens departing, 
 
 Grief arose in each heart, and with fears 
 Crowding backward the love with gloomy forebodings, 
 
 They parted in sorrow and tears. 
 
 They met soon again but with faces averted, 
 
 The love in his heart had grown cold ; 
 His vows were untrue and soon lightly were broken, 
 
 As the cloud o er his star had foretold. 
 
 She mingled in revelry, listened to praises, 
 
 Her thoughts all the while away far. 
 With scorn on her lip and all murmurs disdaining 
 
 She died like her beautiful star.
 
 7 6 
 
 PERHAPS. 
 
 " Since if you stood at my side to-day 
 
 Only our hands would meet, 
 What matter if half the weary world 
 
 Lies out between our feet." PHCEBE GARY. 
 
 HE flower a hand has rudely pressed 
 
 Will slowly droop and die, 
 A fallen star will ne er more beam 
 
 Within yon brilliant sky. 
 The tree that stood before the gale 
 
 With proudly towering head, 
 At length the long continued storm 
 
 Uproots from Earth s damp bed. 
 
 E en so the love that firmly clung, 
 
 With fervent faith and trust, 
 Unto the one whose cold neglect 
 
 Slow crushed it to the dust. 
 Like as the tree, the sore tried heart 
 
 At last will surely break, 
 And late repentance and kind words 
 
 Dead love can never wake. 
 
 Perhaps the dog whose angry tooth 
 
 Was buried in my hand, 
 I ll beckon with a gentle tone 
 
 Again by me to stand. 
 Perhaps a little singing bird 
 
 Who hears a serpent hiss, 
 At once does fly into his coils 
 
 With joy and trustfulness. 
 
 E en so, perhaps, in time my heart 
 
 Will learn to love again, 
 And trust once more the treach rous soul 
 
 That bowed it low with pain.
 
 77 
 
 Perhaps thy falseness I ll forget 
 As years shall slow elapse. 
 
 I do not say thee, yea, or nay, 
 I only say Perhaps. 
 
 w 
 
 PARTED, 
 
 HEN the twilight s dusky mantle 
 
 Turns to black the forest s green, 
 When the world is calmly sleeping 
 
 Neath the bright moon s silvery beam, 
 When the night-winds soft are wafting 
 
 Flowers pure incense to above, 
 All my soul is yearning toward thee, 
 
 And I think of thee, my love. 
 
 As I wander o er Life s pathway 
 
 And my heart grows faint and lone, 
 And I weary turn from pleasure, 
 
 Longing for thy voice and home, 
 Gentle Peace folds o er my spirit 
 
 Her soft pinions like a dove, 
 And my road seems far less lonely 
 
 When I think of thee, my love. 
 
 Low thy graceful head is lying, 
 
 O er thy breast the daisies blow, 
 And the anguish of my bosom 
 
 Only God and thou can know; 
 Though my bruised rebellious spirit 
 
 Dares to question Him above, 
 Still I strive to hush my murmurs 
 
 When I think of thee, my love.
 
 78 
 
 Do not enter at the portal ; 
 
 Tarry yet awhile for me, 
 I am hastening up the pathway, 
 
 Soon I ll stand again by thee. 
 Leave me not, beloved spirit, 
 
 Wait beside the gate above 
 Hand in hand once more together 
 
 Let us enter in, my love. 
 
 TRIALS. 
 
 ANY the trials I meet in life 
 
 As I hurry the journey along, 
 Many the trials, many the cares 
 
 And many a bitter wrong. 
 
 Many companions I dearly loved 
 
 The Master has called away. 
 I know they watch and wait for me 
 
 In the happy Far-away. 
 
 Often my fondly cherished hopes 
 
 Are rudely dashed to earth, 
 And often friends I love the best 
 
 I find are of little worth. 
 
 I wept o er the loss of those I loved, 
 I wept o er my hopes rude fall, 
 
 But the tears I shed when I found thee false 
 Were the bitterest tears of all. 
 
 Many the trials I meet in life 
 They are waiting for great and small ; 
 
 But to find my trust in thee betrayed 
 Is the heaviest trial of all.
 
 79 
 
 LINES. 
 
 AM sad and weary, darling, 
 
 Lonely and sick at heart, 
 For I long for your dear presence 
 
 Though we are so far apart. 
 O, to clasp your hand, my dear one, 
 
 O, your kindly voice to hear ! 
 Wheresoe er your feet may wander, 
 
 May God protect you, dear. 
 
 I shall watch for your returning, 
 
 I can never love thee less, 
 May His watchful care be with you 
 
 And your life forever bless. 
 Though long miles now stretch between us, 
 
 Yet in thought I m ever near, 
 And my heartfelt prayer is ever 
 
 That God will bless you, dear. 
 
 Ah ! be sure I m thinking of you 
 
 Though your name I never speak, 
 And my heart is yearning toward you 
 
 With love thoughts true and deep ; 
 Heaven guard my distant darling, 
 
 Be the skies above thee clear 
 From a single shade of clouding, 
 
 And may God protect you, dear.
 
 So 
 
 REMEMBER ME. 
 
 W 
 
 HEN I am far away, dear one, 
 
 Yes, miles and miles from you, my friend, 
 May blessings hover o er thy path, 
 
 And Fortune e er thy steps attend. 
 My changeful life will often be 
 
 As turbid as a troubled sea, 
 Yet, O what joy twill be to know 
 
 That sometimes you will think of me. 
 
 Your honest love I do not doubt, 
 
 I clasp your warm and friendly hand, 
 I know no other truer friend 
 
 I ll ever find in any land, 
 God s blessings on your faithful heart. 
 
 Go where you will where er you be, 
 Let not Time weaken Friendship s ties, 
 
 But, dearest one, remember me. 
 
 I know a future day will come, 
 
 A day when we shall meet again, 
 The joy of meeting will outweigh 
 
 By far the bitter parting pain. 
 Farewell ! your mem ry, dear, will dwell 
 
 Within my heart on land or sea. 
 And may I never live to see 
 
 The day you have forgotten me.
 
 Si 
 
 WATCHING. 
 
 A SEA STORY. 
 
 2HE stood alone on the wild sea shore, 
 f Her lover was far away, 
 Yet she watched and waited for his return 
 
 Patiently day by day. 
 Tis many a day," I heard her say, 
 
 " Since he sailed o er the dark blue main, 
 But I ll murmur not, he has not forgot, 
 I know he will come again ! " 
 
 O er her brow so fair 
 
 Her soft dark hair 
 Was tossed by the wind so wild, 
 
 Yet her eyes so true 
 Scanned the Ocean s blue 
 
 With the faith of a little child. 
 But no welcome mast 
 
 Her vision passed 
 Though she watched with anxious pain, 
 
 And whispered low : 
 He will come, I know, 
 
 Yes, he surely will come again ! " 
 
 The year passed by, her soft dark eye 
 
 Grew dim with watching long, 
 Yet her heart s pure will was constant still, 
 
 And her maiden love as strong ; 
 Yet she faded fast, and she died at last, 
 
 Her watching all in vain. 
 From the distant strand of a foreign land 
 
 Her lover ne er came again.
 
 82 
 
 O er her brow so calm 
 
 The summer long 
 The roses bloom so pale, 
 
 And the Robin s trill 
 And the Whip-poor-will 
 
 Her early death bewail. 
 Yet I often dream, in the Twilight s gleam, 
 
 I can hear her whisper low : 
 " I will murmur not, he has not forgot, 
 
 He will come again, I know ! 
 
 DISCONTENT. 
 
 HEY come to greet me with their outstretched hands 
 
 And bid me " welcome " in a hearty tone, 
 Yet in their midst my heart is discontent, 
 
 And mong them all I feel but more alone. 
 Their voices cannot win my restless soul, 
 
 Nor drive away the shades of lonely care, 
 I turn away from them unsatisfied, 
 Because you are not there. 
 
 What care I if they love the songs I sing ? 
 
 What matter if they praise the words I rhyme 
 What matter if they crown me Pleasure s queen, 
 
 If my heart is so lonely all the time ? 
 The crowd of smiling faces are to me 
 
 As naught although they beam so genial, fair 
 I cannot meet and give them smile for smile, 
 Because you are not there. 
 
 I d rather see one honest face I love, 
 And feel the touch of one beloved hand, 
 
 Whose clasp has power to thrill my icy heart 
 Unmoved by merry strains from Flattery s band,
 
 So, though they welcome me a happy throng- 
 
 And jest with hearts so free from any care, 
 Among them all I feel but more alone, 
 Because you are not there. 
 
 A HEART SONG. 
 
 IS true that we are severed far, 
 
 We ne er may meet again, dear, 
 For I am here and you are there, 
 
 And have been many a sad year ; 
 My heart yearns ever to your own 
 
 As flowers seek earliest morn s dew, 
 Yet still I never do repent 
 
 That I have met and loved you. 
 
 My path in life comes never near 
 
 The way you tread alone, dear, 
 You miss my presence by your side, 
 
 And I, too, grieve you re not near, 
 Yet mem ry sweet remains us both 
 
 Of joys so pure we once knew. 
 My heart is better tenderer, 
 
 Since I have met and loved you ; 
 
 Mine was a useless, dreary life, 
 
 Without an end or aim, dear, 
 Wrapped up in self I drew to me 
 
 But scorn or pity doubt fear. 
 Since far from you, I seek about 
 
 To find what good I may do, 
 And live for others, not myself, 
 
 Since I have met and loved you.
 
 8 4 
 
 So, though we journey far apart 
 
 And ne er shall meet again, dear, 
 I ll pray for you and you for me 
 
 With conscience from a blot clear, 
 And as I journey on and find 
 
 Mong many hearts, so few true, 
 My faith in human kind dies not 
 
 Since I have met and loved you. 
 
 God knoweth best so donjt complain, 
 
 But bow unto His will, dear, 
 If meant that we should meet again 
 
 He ll show the way to us clear. 
 But come what may, the world to me 
 
 Is brighter, better, more true, 
 Than when I empty-hearted roamed 
 
 Before I met and loved you. 
 
 DRIFTING APART. 
 
 DRIFTING apart ! Drifting apart ! 
 
 ^ Our barks now float on Life s turbid tide. 
 But no longer gliding side by side, 
 And I miss thy voice of kindly cheer, 
 As I watch o er the waste of waters drear, 
 The masts of thy speeding bark. 
 
 Drifting apart ! Afar to roam, 
 And every rise of the billows swell 
 Divides us further. Ah ! is it well ? 
 My soul says nay but so let it be 
 I wave farewell, farewell, to thee ! 
 
 And journey on alone.
 
 85 
 
 Drifting apart ! Perhaps ere long 
 When my bark is lost fore er from view, 
 When the storm-clouds shroud the sky now blue, 
 When the tempest fills thy heart with fear, 
 You will long, too late, my voice to hear, 
 
 And see thy course is wrong. 
 
 "THY WILL BE DONE. 
 
 HY will be done." O simple little words, 
 
 And yet so hard for us to truly say ; 
 To bow unquestioning before Thy will, 
 
 And meekly bear the burdens of to-day. 
 Pity our weakness, O most holy Son ! 
 And teach our murmuring lips to say 
 "Thy will be done." 
 
 "Thy will be done." See where the widow mourns, 
 As o er her dead companion sad tears fall, 
 
 Alone she stands her heart s dear comrade gone, 
 Nor answers to her wild, despairing call ; 
 
 O dry your eyes, poor mourner, think for him 
 Has risen up Eternity s glad sun, 
 
 O may He help thy stricken soul to say 
 "Thy will be done." 
 
 "Thy will be done." The mother weeping stands 
 Beside the coffin of her cherished one ; 
 
 The baby, snatched from off her loving breast 
 Before its little life had scarce begun ; 
 
 Beside her, Lord, in pitying kindness stand, 
 And hold her hand, most gracious Holy one ; 
 
 Thou know st how hard for her poor lips to say 
 "Thy will be done."
 
 86 
 
 " Thy will be done. O how we need Thy help 
 To say those words with humble, trustful heart, 
 
 To bow before Thy will in everything, 
 As in this dreary world we take our part. 
 
 Thou knowest our weakness, and how prone to stray, 
 Rebellious, leaving all Thy work undone ; 
 
 But Lord, forgive, and help us all to say 
 "Thy will be done. 
 
 HAVE TRUST IN GOD. 
 
 UAVE trust in God, 
 
 When o er thy pathway heavy shadows lie, 
 When no kind friend nor earthly help is nigh 
 To cheer thy soul ; when thy frail bark is driven 
 By darkest storms of life, look unto Heaven 
 And trust in God. 
 
 Have trust in God ; 
 
 He knows the lonesome way is dark and drear, 
 He knows thy heart is often filled with fear ; 
 But his strong hand is at the vessel s helm 
 And though storms rave, they ne er shall overwhelm, 
 So trust in God. 
 
 Have trust in God ; 
 
 He bendeth low to hear thy faintest call, 
 He knoweth every trial burden all 
 So when thy cares seem heaviest to bear, 
 Press on thy way with softly whispered prayer, 
 And trust in God.
 
 Have trust in God ; 
 
 And when thy bark shall breast the tide no more, 
 When life s long journey shall at last be o er, 
 Then will thy soul, from its dark bondage free, 
 Soar to the heavenly shore and ever be 
 Safe with its God. 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 OW doth our minds e er strive to see 
 
 Into the dark futurity ! 
 To pierce the gloom before our eyes, 
 The cloud that o er the future lies, 
 And see our whole lives clear and plain, 
 How much of joy how much of pain ; 
 And often do we pass away 
 In longings vain, the present day, 
 While fancy paints a scene more fair, 
 With flowers rich and scented air, 
 Which, by the contrast, dims the light 
 Of blessings that are now so bright. 
 
 Ah, foolish ones ! to pass in scorn 
 
 The treasures of life s- early morn, 
 
 To slight the jewels at our feet, 
 
 And grasp for those beyond our reach, 
 
 And for " What is to come " still sigh, 
 
 Until to-day has glided by ! 
 
 O let us meet the coming years, 
 
 With all their pleasures, cares and fears, 
 
 Just as God s providence has planned, 
 
 And humbly take from His kind hand 
 
 The good, the ill, the toil, the rest, 
 
 E er feeling that He knoweth best.
 
 SUBMISSION. 
 
 Y heart doth not yet understand 
 
 The workings of Thy wondrous hand, 
 Nor know Thy righteous way ; 
 But what is now as blackest night, 
 Thy mighty love will some time light, 
 Make plain some future day. 
 
 Tis true the way seems lone and dark, 
 And often my faint, saddened heart 
 
 Is filled with grief and pain ; 
 But when Thy gracious words I hear, 
 " Dear child, thy Lord is ever near," 
 
 The path seems bright again. 
 
 Then let me trust Thee more and more, 
 And when my weary days are o er, 
 
 And my bewildered sight 
 Shall look back over life again, 
 With all its mysteries made plain, 
 
 / // see that Thou wast right. 
 
 MY PRAYER. 
 
 OLD Thou my hand, 
 
 As o er life s changing, stormy sea I float, 
 And storm-gusts fierce threat oft to wreck my boat ; 
 Oh ! when the billows roar and swell most high, 
 When naught I see but dark and frowning sky, 
 Lord, near me stand. 
 
 Lord, call to me 
 
 Whene er with fancied strength I strive to guide. 
 Without Thy help, my bark across the tide ; 
 Oh, let not then Thy anger on me fall, 
 But deign the foolish wanderer to recall, 
 
 T> 1. . ... Tl
 
 Hold Thou my hand, 
 And give me strength to battle boldly on, 
 Ne er shrinking, though the tide be swift and strong, 
 And when by yon bright shore my anchor s cast, 
 O, then with thankful soul may 1 at last 
 
 Before Thee stand. 
 
 BE THOU MY GUIDE. 
 
 TREAD along life s changeful, rugged pathway, 
 And gather often briers sometimes flowers ; 
 
 Still, looking forth with hope in the to-morrow, 
 1 pass away Time s swiftly flying hours. 
 
 But naught of evil will my years betide, 
 
 If Thou, O Lord, wilt be my shield and guide ; 
 
 Oft doth my heart, with sad and weary pining, 
 
 Long for the coming of a brighter day, 
 And often to my thankless eyes discerning, 
 
 Is naught but dreary darkness all the way. 
 And oft my lips with murmurings loud complain, 
 Because the blessings sent are mixed with pain. 
 
 Teach me, O Lord, with humble mind to praise Thee, 
 Alike mid pleasure and in trouble sore ; 
 
 O, may I e er, amidst life s stormiest billows, 
 But cling unto and trust Thee more and more, 
 
 And lift my eyes in earnest faith above, 
 
 Relying on Thy strong, undying love. 
 
 Watch Thou o er me through all the busy future, 
 Within my soul in gracious kindness dwell, 
 
 And may I e er amidst life s strangest changes, 
 Still feel within myself, Thou doest all well ; 
 
 For naught but good can all my days betide, 
 
 If Thou, O Lord, wilt be my shield and guide.
 
 90 
 
 SELF-RELIANCE.* 
 
 NO one ever amounted to anything in any position in life who was not self- 
 reliant. If you intend to depend upon the advice and aid of your friends 
 all your life, it would be well for you to die early, before your friends become too 
 sick and tired of you to even attend your funeral. Self-reliance, hand in hand 
 with integrity and industry, is bound to win in the end. I despise a man who is 
 always deliberating not whether he is right or wrong, but what Mr. So-and-So will 
 say of his actions. Lay out your road carefully, conscientiously (being careful 
 always not to trespass on your neighbor s ground), and then plod along. Let those 
 who walk in different roads jeer if they will. The man who laughs at one who start: 
 on a road of his own making, wastes just so much valuable time, and by holding youi 
 peace and steadily moving on, you will distance him just so far, while he is wasting 
 his time criticising your movements. Remember the winning horse is seldom the 
 one that starts best. Don t be afraid to originate. An ape can copy, but it takes 
 intellect and study to originate ; and if we all keep going on in the same old ruts, we 
 will be little better than puppets that are worked by the master-mind of some of oui 
 ancestors, who originated what was suited to their time and age, but which may be 
 totally unfit to suit our demands or conditions. It is best not to waste time listening 
 to " advisers." Advice is cheap, but the man who is most ready to give you advice 
 is seldom successful or prosperous in his own undertakings. Yet it is always wise 
 to hearken to the experiences of others who have traveled over the country in 
 which you lay your road. They can warn you of many a pitfall and slough, and 
 it is a fool who does not respect the experiences of age, or stubbornly shuts his ears 
 when a friend cries " Danger ahead." Follow no man s advice unless it agrees 
 with your own good sense and judgment. Think for yourself that is why the 
 great Ruler created every being with brains of his own. If you do the best you 
 can, but find after faithful labor, that, with all your care and planning, you are 
 on the wrong track, don t be too proud to go back. 
 
 Never seek for happiness in throngs and dissipation. Happiness shuns 
 crowds. There is more true pleasure in a ten-minute chat with some con 
 genial friend than in ten hours carousal in a throng of "pleasure seekers." 
 Keep your eyes about you, and when you see some poor fellow struggling to carry 
 a load beyond his strength, give him a lift if you can ; but watch that you your 
 self do not try to carry mor-e than you are able, else some one may need to come 
 to your aid, and although it is a pleasure to give aid, it is often humiliating to be 
 obliged to receive it. Be respectful to those you have dealings with, but do not 
 cringe to any one, for the mask of hypocrisy falls off at last and the true face is 
 discovered. Avoid double dealing. Be yourself at all times. If you are honest 
 in all things, you will never fear to look your fellow-man in the face, and if 
 you watch the experiences of those about you, you can easily discover that deceit 
 brings swift and sure punishment. 
 
 * Written for the Xmas number New York Mirror, of 1887.
 
 THE ACTOR * > 
 
 \V/HO promenades upon the "Square" 
 
 With cane, silk hat and lordly air 
 And tells about the "offers grand " 
 He has from best stars " in the land ? 
 The Actor. 
 
 Who often goes out with a snap " 
 To towns you can t find on the map 
 The Public s (?) mirth one night supplies 
 Then has to come back " counting ties " ? 
 The Actor. 
 
 Who tells about the "hits " he s made 
 With solemn look and accents grave, 
 And says that, in the public mind, 
 He left the "star" far, far behind? 
 The Actor. 
 
 Who often says behind your back 
 That he "can teach you how to act," 
 And yet, if you should need a friend 
 His last dime-piece to you will lend ? 
 The Actor. 
 
 Who often fails in the " legit " 
 Yet in " black-face " can make a "hit " 
 Then vows " the public taste is low, 
 And wants a vulgar, trashy show " ? 
 The Actor. 
 
 * Written for New York Clipper, December 29, 1886.
 
 Who, when misfortune s cry is heard 
 Is first with aid and kindly word 
 And freely gives his store of pelf 
 And very often robs himself? 
 
 The Actor. 
 
 Who when Death s touch his life doth end 
 Is seldom left without a friend 
 Who, grateful for some kindness past 
 Cares for and loves him to the last ? 
 The Actor. 
 
 And when his voice no more beguiles, 
 May Peter " pass" him in with smiles, 
 And he go in to final rest 
 And take a " front seat" with the best 
 The Actor. 
 
 DON T MISS YOUR "CUE." 
 
 KNOW some folks who idly stand and moan 
 
 That "Good Luck never yet has come their way * ; 
 While if they d ope their eyes and look about 
 They d see him at their side most every day. 
 These people stand like sticks along life s path 
 With scowling brows (the sight gives one the blues), 
 While for " ill-luck " they can but thank themselves 
 
 They ve missed their " cues. 
 
 This world was made for busy hands and brains ; 
 The worthy one who toils is he who wins. 
 How can one hope to win the race of life 
 Who slowly walks, and running ne er begins ?
 
 93 
 
 Prepare yourself to-day for better work, 
 For greater tasks that you may have to do ; 
 Then, when your chances come, be quick to act 
 
 Don t miss your "cue." 
 
 I scorn the man who has not "nerve " to stand 
 And face his future with a hopeful eye, 
 Who drifts along life s tide without an aim, 
 And only lives to eat, to drink, and die. 
 The world is full of "chances " by the score 
 For higher aims, more noble work and true ; 
 So learn your part " and be assured ere long 
 
 You ll hear your " cue." 
 
 Then let us strive by honest, faithful toil 
 
 To be as great and noble as we can ; 
 
 It is a duty that we owe ourselves, 
 
 To those we love and to our fellow-man. 
 
 Perform your part to-day with patient care, 
 
 Perchance twill prove a stepping-stone for you ; 
 
 Then when your chances come for better work 
 
 Don t miss your " cue."
 
 94 
 
 SUNSHINE. 
 
 A CHEERFUL, contented man or woman does more good in the world th; 
 ten doctors. What brightens one up more or makes one feel more satisfii 
 with life than the cheery greeting and the hearty hand-clasp, of the cheerful mar 
 
 To go about with a dull, dissatisfied expression on one s face is tl 
 worst kind of selfishness. Your dark, frowning face casts a shadow f 
 the time over the life of every susceptible being you are brought in conta 
 with, and if the -world has used you ill you have no right to make yoi 
 friends suffer. One-half the troubles of this life are of our own makin; 
 We want things all our own way, and when we don t get it, like a spoiled chiL 
 we raise a yell that annoys everyone within hearing. The trouble with most 
 us is we waste our time either grieving over what we have lost in the past or wh< 
 we fancy we see beyond our reach in the future neglecting all the glorious gif 
 of the present. It is folly for one to say " I can t help my feelings." Of coun 
 you can t if, instead of crushing them, you secretly nourish and feed your ev 
 thoughts and fancies. If we will only judge ourselves as we judge others, an 
 scorn ourselves as we scorn others who are guilty of the same ill doing, we wi 
 in time, by holding a tight rein on the selfish part of our nature, grow with 01 
 years nearer and nearer the ideal man or woman. No one has a fault withoi 
 knowing it, and the worst of all our faults is self-love. We do love ou 
 selves, and until we can sink that selfishness and love others at least as we 
 a? ourselves, we can never be either noble or great in the true sense of tl 
 word. A cheerful man is generally both generous and just, and a smile on tl 
 lips is usually a reflection of sunshine in the heart. " Where is all this sunshine 
 to come from?" my bilious, grumbling friend inquires. Go out and search f( 
 it. Get out from the thick shade of your own moping fancies. Step out and gii 
 the sun a chance. It can never reach its rays into your dark little corner. Ste 
 out, look about you ; see how many struggling fellow-men and women there are i 
 the world to aid. That will be " sunshine " for you. Aid them, if not by mone] 
 by kind words, an encouraging smile, an approving "well done," and, best < 
 all, by your example. 
 
 There are men and women in this world whose daily life is a prayer. I don 
 mean they parade their religion, but their daily life shows an honest purpose I 
 do as they would be done by, and to love their neighbor as themselves. Sue 
 people do more good than twenty sermons. Don t be afraid to praise peopli 
 The idea that praising spoils is absurd. By praise I don t mean flattery, bt 
 when one really does well don t be afraid to tell him so. It encourages him I
 
 95 
 
 greater efforts, and in the heart of every human being, I think, is planted a desire 
 for commendation. There s plenty of sunshine in the world ; plenty of things 
 worth living for, if we ll only look about and find them. There are many more 
 good people in the world than bad, many honest hearts that will eagerly meet us 
 more than halfway if we ll only hold out our hand in a friendly spirit. So let 
 us open the shutters and let God s sunshine into our homes and open our hearts 
 and let the sunshine of fellowship and love for our kind into our lives. Let us 
 try to live less for ourselves and more for others, and, I think, we will find it is a 
 good thing to be alive after all.
 
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