PFECTIONS 
 
 RIBUT:
 
 astitm'8 Tribute,
 
 Affection's Tribute. 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS, 
 
 BY 
 
 R. S. NAYLOR. 
 
 OSKALOOSA, IOWA, 
 
 CENTRAL BOOK CONCERN 
 1874.
 
 Kntered according to act of <'ougres.s, in thf yo:tr 1H74. liy 
 
 A. W. NAYLOR, 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, 1>. C. 
 
 TRESS OF 
 
 CENTRAL BOOK CONCKRN, 
 
 Oxkaloasa, Imi-a.
 
 TO 
 MY PARENTS 
 
 AND 
 
 MY FRIENDS 
 
 | bebititte tin* little bolumt 
 
 AS A TRIBUTK OP 
 
 rtffecfion anri -Retpect. 
 
 2030015
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE- 
 TO OHIO, 17 
 
 LIKES PRESENTED TO MY HUSBAND WITH 
 
 A BIRTHDAY PRESENT, . . . '21 
 I THANK THEE, KIND SAVIOUR FOR 
 
 TEARS, 25 
 
 THOUGHTS OF HOME, 28 
 
 DREAMS OF HOME, 30 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF 
 A BIBLE 1'RKSKNTED TO MY LITTLE 
 
 DAUGHTER ONE YEAR OLD, . . 33 
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS, 36 
 
 TO MY BROTHER, 41 
 
 BLANDER, 45 
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS, 46 
 
 TO A SNOW BIRD, 49 
 
 DARE TO DO RIGHT, ..'... 52 
 
 TO MY OLD PLAYMATE, .... 53
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 THE STREAM OF TIME, .... 58 
 
 BEAUTY OF THE MORNING, . . . 60 
 
 EVENING, 62 
 
 THE SOUL, 63 
 
 DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND ON THE 
 
 DEATH OF HER CHILD, . . . 64 
 
 TO THE FLOWERS, 67 
 
 HOPE, * ... 69 
 
 THE CHURCHYARD, . . . . . 70 
 
 TO THE EVENING STAR, .... 71 
 
 THOUGHTS BY THE OCEAN, ... 73 
 
 I WATCH FOR THEE, 75 
 
 MORNING MEDITATIONS, .... 77 
 
 TO MY INFANT SON, . . ... 79 
 WE WHICH HAVE BELIEVED DO ENTER 
 
 INTO REST, . . ' . . . . 82 
 
 INVOCATION, . 84 
 
 TO THE LOVED AT HOME, 86 
 
 LINES WRITTEN UNDER MY PICTURE, . 88
 
 TO OHIO. 
 
 T HAVE left thee, dear Ohio, 
 But my memory fondly clings 
 
 To thy rocks, so high and towering, 
 To thy ever-gushing springs ; 
 
 To thy meadows and thy valleys, 
 Where thy crystal waters shine, 
 
 To the old hills where the gray rock 
 
 Flashes through the waving pine. 
 3
 
 18 TO OHIO. 
 
 In the morning of my childhood 
 
 I have often loved to rove, 
 When the orb of day was glittering 
 
 From the calm, blue sky above, 
 To thy forests, where thy songsters 
 
 Sweetly sang their songs of glee. 
 All these ties, beloved Ohio, 
 
 Bound my youthful heart to tliee. 
 
 And as I've sat there musing, 
 
 In the shelter of the wood, 
 On the deeds of those of other days,- 
 
 The great, the wise, the good, 
 I, in fancy, stood beside the place 
 
 Where the council fire once shone 
 On the rude home of the red man, 
 
 In the days that now have flown. 
 
 And ofttimes by thy waters, 
 
 When the autumn's gentle breeze
 
 TO OHIO. 10 
 
 Fanned quietly above my head 
 
 The tall, umbrageous trees, 
 I've mused, when no sound broke my spell 
 
 But the waves upon thy shore, 
 And the cadence of those billows 
 
 Only made me love thee more. 
 
 And when evening's constellations 
 
 Glittered on thy waters clear, 
 Warning me that I must leave the place 
 
 So fondly loved, so dear, 
 I wandered home, when the clamorous 
 voice 
 
 Of the day was hushed and still; 
 No sound broke on my evening thoughts 
 
 But the song of the whippoorwill. 
 
 Oh ! tbou blest land of my childhood ! 
 Fresh to-day my memory brings
 
 20 TO OHIO. 
 
 Recollections of thy wild woods, 
 And thy clear and crystal springs ; 
 
 Still my heart clings to thy forests, 
 With their brown, majestic trees. 
 
 Oh ! beloved land of my childhood, 
 I do love thee more for these. 
 
 Though I love the western prairies, 
 
 And the ties are stong that bind 
 My heart to those who have been to me 
 
 So faithful, true, and kind ; 
 Yet my heart grows tired of noise and strife, 
 
 And often in my dreams 
 I go back to the days of my early lii'e, 
 
 When I sat by thy quiet streams.
 
 LINES PRESENTED TO MY HUSBAND 
 WITH A BIRTHDAY PRESENT. 
 
 n^HE springtime of youth is fast gliding away, 
 And the noon of our lives very soon will 
 
 come on. 
 I look back through the vista of time to the 
 
 days 
 
 That have vanished since our paths in life 
 have been one ; 
 
 Since the day that we started together to share 
 Life's conflicts and conquests, its joys and its 
 
 tears ; 
 
 And although we have tasted our portion of care, 
 Yet, withal, we must say, they have been 
 happy years.
 
 22 TO MY HUSBAND. 
 
 And I praise the kind Giver who dwelleth 
 
 above, 
 
 That in His great goodness He ever bestowed 
 Such a being to cherish, such a warm heart to 
 
 love, 
 Such a hand to assist me o'er life's rugged road. 
 
 And the tears trickle down as I think of the 
 
 time 
 
 We no longer shall carry life's burdens to- 
 gether, 
 When the grim monster Death shall pierce my 
 
 heart or thine, 
 
 When the -chain that now binds us his sickle 
 shall sever. 
 
 How lonely the journey will be to the one 
 Left alone to contend with earth's sorrow and 
 grief;
 
 TO MY HUSBAND. 23 
 
 And naught but the thought that it cannot be 
 
 long 
 Could afford the sad heart any balm of relief. 
 
 Then, dear one, let us live so that when we shall 
 
 part, 
 
 We may feel the assurance of meeting above 
 In that blissful forever where, heart joined to 
 
 heart, 
 
 We may dwell evermore with the ones that 
 we love. 
 
 And oh ! let us strive, while together we stay, 
 To act toward each other so affectionate and 
 kind 
 
 That when one from the other is taken away 
 No cloud of remorse can o'ershadow the mind.
 
 24 TO MY HUSBAND. 
 
 May the sad, lonely heart be consoled with the 
 
 thought, 
 When the form it most loved has been laid 
 
 out of sight, 
 
 That the vows made in youth it has never forgot, 
 But has done what it could to make life's 
 pathway bright.
 
 / THANK THEE, KIND SAVIOUR, FOR 
 TEARS. 
 
 VT7~HEX my heart is o'erburdcned with sor- 
 row and care, 
 
 And my mind overpowered by grief, 
 And my woe-stricken spirit is seeking to find 
 The all-healing balm of relief; 
 
 When my tempest-tossed bark finds no haven 
 of rest 
 
 For its burdensome cargo of fears, 
 As it sails life's rough ocean, forlorn and dis- 
 tressed, 
 
 I thank thee, kind Saviour, for tears. 
 4
 
 26 I THANK THEE, SAVIOUIl, FOR TEAUs. 
 
 When sober reflection can bring me no joy 
 From the grave of the long-buried past, 
 And the future's dark vista seems paved with 
 
 sharp thorns, 
 
 And by tempest clouds thickly o'ercast ; 
 When the star that once gilded my path o'er 
 
 life's way 
 
 In the heavens no longer appears, 
 And the light-house of hope seems to die from 
 
 my view, 
 I thank thee, kind Saviour, for tears. 
 
 When the friends who once met me, when for- 
 tune was kind, 
 At the altar of friendship to bow, 
 
 And brought wreaths of affection my heart to 
 entwine, 
 
 Have forgotten to meet me there now : 
 
 
 When misfortune's chill breezes have taken the 
 
 voice
 
 I THANK THEE, SAVIOUR,, FOR TEARS. 27 
 
 Of affection that greeted my ears, 
 And the steel words of harshness pierce wounds 
 
 in my breast, 
 I thank thee, kind Saviour, for tears. 
 
 I thank thee, wise Parent, that thou didst fore- 
 know 
 
 That afflictions would meet us while here, 
 Which would sink the weak heart in the ocean 
 
 of woe 
 
 If 'twere not for the solace of tears. 
 And, although for a few fleeting days I am 
 
 placed 
 
 In a world full of sorrows and fears, 
 Thou hast given this means to relieve my sad 
 
 heart ; 
 O, I thank thee, I thank thee for tears.
 
 THOUGHTS OF HOME, 
 
 T 'M lonely, and I feel to-night, 
 Borne down by melancholy's hand ; 
 
 I wander far from childhood's home, 
 A stranger in a strange, strange land. 
 
 Oh ! gentle moon, look from thy throne, 
 And tell, oh ! tell me, dost thou see 
 
 One friend amidst the throng at home 
 Who thinks and drops a tear for me ? 
 
 ( )h ! tell me from thy throne above, 
 Thou bright and beauteous orb of light, 
 
 Does a father's or a mother's love 
 Yearn for their child to-night ?
 
 THOUGHTS OF HOME. 29 
 
 Oh ! does a brother long to see 
 The playmate of his early years? 
 
 Oh ! does a sister think of me, 
 And shed in silence bitter tears 
 
 For the one who led her infant hand 
 And joined her in her childish fun ? 
 
 Does she think of me in a stranger land ? 
 Oh ! does she think of the absent one ?
 
 DREAMS OF HOME. 
 
 T^\EAR mother, I've been to the land of 
 
 dreams, 
 That .strange, strange world of mysterious 
 
 gleams, 
 
 Where the withered flowers of days gone by 
 Perfume the dear chambers of imagery. 
 
 I saw thee there in that spirit land, 
 
 As joyful I stood midst the well known band 
 
 Of familiar faces, that brightly shone 
 
 With joy as you welcomed your absent home.
 
 DREAMS OF HOME. 
 
 You all were there, and your voices clear 
 Fell like notes of music upon my ear ; 
 And a world of affection pure and deep 
 Seemed given me in that land of sleep. 
 
 Your faces shone with the fire's bright bla/e, 
 As we sat by the hearth of my early days. 
 A brother's eye sparkled with strange delight, 
 As he said, I'm s glad you have come to-night. 
 
 But the morn has come, and my dream is gone ; 
 I awake with a heart more sad and lone. 
 Oh ! strange, mysterious land of sleep ! 
 Thou hast vanished and left me to pine and 
 weep. 
 
 O Morpheus, come at the daylight's close ; 
 Bring the eyelids sleep and the mind repose ; 
 But never again bring the land of dreams 
 To remind me of home and its clear, blue 
 streams
 
 32 DREAMS OF HOMK. 
 
 For bitter tears from the heart's core come 
 When I wake to remembrance, at morning*.- 
 
 dawn, 
 
 And find it's a dream that has vanished by 
 And left my visions of home to die.
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE BLANK 
 
 LEAF OF A BIBLE PRESENTED 
 
 TO MY LITTLE DAUGHTER 
 
 ONE YEAR OLD. 
 
 "\,1~Y darling May, bestowed by Heaven 
 
 To light life's dark, bewildered road ; 
 Thou gem of love, so kindly given 
 To lead my wandering soul to God ; 
 To thee I dedicate this gift 
 That points the only glorious way 
 That leads to life and perfect peace, 
 
 And everlasting day. 
 5
 
 34 TO MY DAUGHTER. 
 
 I give it with a heartfelt prayer, 
 
 A mother's prayer, devout, sincere, 
 That thou mayest learn the many truths 
 That God has wisely planted here. 
 My infant, thou dost little know 
 The joy, the fear, the hope, the dread 
 That thrills thy mother when she feels 
 That thou hast youth's wild paths to tread. 
 
 To tread, if God shouldst will that thou 
 
 Shouldst come upon the busy stage 
 Of human life to act the part 
 
 Of youth, of girlhood, and of age. 
 
 How that may be I cannot know ; 
 Perhaps e're morning's light shall c<> 
 Thy soul may soar to spirit worlds. 
 God's will be done forever done.
 
 TO MY DAUGHTER. 
 
 I Jut should He spare thee yet to read 
 
 The volume whieh thy mother gave, 
 When the frail form that first thou knew 
 Lies moldering in the silent grave, 
 I eharge thee by the silken cord 
 Of love that binds my soul to thee 
 To give thy heart unto the Lord, 
 And live but for eternity.
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 r\ HOW pleasant to me is the still hour of 
 
 evening, 
 When the shadows of twilight come stealing] y 
 
 on, 
 And the soft, gentle breeze fans the warm brow 
 
 of heaven, 
 When the great king of daylight has vanished 
 
 and gone; 
 
 When nature's loud voices are hushed into quiet, 
 And the husbandman's labor is brought to a 
 
 close ; 
 When this great active world's busy tumult and 
 
 riot 
 Into stillness is hushed by the hand of repose.
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 37 
 
 A> I sit by my fireside, the lamp brightly burn- 
 ing* 
 My thoughts wander back o'er the work of 
 
 to-day 
 
 That has passed to that bourne whence no trav- 
 eler's returning 
 
 Has ever illumined our wandering way. 
 Oh ! tliou day just departed on time's fleeting 
 
 pinions ! 
 What news hast thou borne to that fathomless 
 
 sea 
 
 Of my sins of omission, my deeds of transgres- 
 sion ? 
 Oh ! what is the message thou bearest of me ? 
 
 Hast thou borne on thy pinions the wailing of 
 
 sadness ? 
 
 The groans of the suffering my hand might 
 have stilled ?
 
 3S EVKXISG THOUGHTS. 
 
 Or were thy wings laden with sweet songs of 
 
 gladness 
 From mouths of the hungry I caused to be 
 
 filled ? 
 Oh ! thou great book of fate, thou record of 
 
 What hast thou to tell of my actions to-day ? 
 What black marks of sin are inscribed on thy 
 
 pages 
 To be read in the finis with fear and dismay ? 
 
 When my fancy peruses that great book of 
 
 actions 
 From the story there written I fain would 
 
 depart ; 
 For methinks that that dreaded herculean 
 
 volume 
 Is filled with the numberless sins of my heart.
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 39 
 
 And so seldom are scattered my few deeds of 
 
 goodness; 
 
 Along through the story of my useless past, 
 That my heart seems to shrink from that sure, 
 
 truthful record, 
 
 And by sad, dark forebodings my soul is o'er- 
 cast. 
 
 O, thou great king of day ! when again thon 
 
 hast risen 
 
 To waken a slumbering world out of sleep, 
 May I start in the straight, narrow pathway of 
 
 duty 
 And all God's commandments so faithfully 
 
 keep 
 That when darkness again shall preside o'er the 
 
 billow, 
 
 ( )r night's radiant queen take her watch o'er 
 the sea,
 
 40 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 May I sweetly repose on my soft, thornless 
 
 pillow, 
 And feel that this world is the better for me.
 
 TO MY BROTHER. 
 
 brother, though the critic's lip 
 May proudly curl and sneer 
 At the unstudied, uncouth rhyme 
 That I have written here, 
 
 1 hope tor better things from you 
 Who know my heart's intent ; 
 
 Who know these lines were only penned 
 For youth's encouragement. 
 
 I am your senior, and should by 
 
 Experience be more wise. 
 Then do not deem it rash in me 
 
 To drop you this advice. 
 6
 
 TO MY BROTHER. 
 
 You'll find youth's path a slippery one, 
 
 And, if you're not aware, 
 You'll slip from virtue's narrow track 
 
 Into temptation's snare. 
 
 Sometimes you'll find in it a rose, 
 
 And oftentimes a thorn 
 That goads the tender heart with shame, 
 
 And leaves it sadly torn. 
 
 If you will only pluck the flowers 
 Of knowledge, love, and truth, 
 
 In after years you may look back 
 Upon a well spent youth. 
 
 But if you leave the path of right 
 To pluck the thorns and flowers 
 
 Of idle pleasure, you'll look back 
 With pain on childhood's hours.
 
 TO MY BROTHER. 4."> 
 
 You'll find its roses soon will fade 
 And leave you naught but thorns 
 
 To cull in winter's gloomy age 
 
 And probe the heart that mourns. 
 
 You'll meet with those who seek to lure 
 You from truth's path of light ; 
 
 But sho\v them works to prove that you 
 Are standing for the right. 
 
 Mingle not with such : you little know 
 
 The influence it may have ; 
 For those who see you oft with rogues 
 
 Will mark you for a knave. 
 
 Xo ; rather seek for friendship 
 With the forest, vale, or brook ; 
 
 Or at the shrine of solitude, 
 
 With some kind, teaching book,
 
 44 TO MY BROTHER. 
 
 Search deep for wisdom's shining ore 
 
 That foes can ne'er destroy, 
 And keep it bright with earnest toil, 
 
 And free from all alloy. 
 
 And, as you sail down Time's swift stream, 
 
 Strive hard to keep your bark 
 In duty's path, and leave behind 
 A bright and shining mark ; 
 
 A mark to shine and ever gild 
 
 The path you trod on earth ; 
 A name to live and ne'er disgrace 
 
 The land that gave you birth.
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 f\ MAN! let reason's power tame 
 That venomous tongue, that fiery lust 
 
 That publisheth thy neighbor's shame, 
 But leaves his good deeds in the dust. 
 
 Oh ! let his deeds of virtue fly 
 
 On immortal wings, and ever live ; 
 
 But leave his deeds of shame to die 
 And molder in oblivion's grave.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 >rrr\VAS evening. On the rocky hill 
 The moon looked down in tender love ; 
 
 The ocean wave was hushed and still ; 
 The sky was blue and calm above. 
 
 The stars put forth their gentle light 
 To cheer their radiant, beauteous queen. 
 
 I gazed with rapture and delight 
 Upon the charming, lovely scene.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 47 
 
 Oh ! was it wrong that I should pine 
 
 For eagle's wings to soar away 
 Where lights like these forever shine 
 
 With steady and undimming ray ? 
 
 Who would not leave a world of woe, 
 Where beauty flees with fleeting time, 
 
 And to those charming regions go 
 And like those stars forever shine ? 
 
 Yet pause, my soul, art thou aware 
 That mortals stained by guilt and sin 
 
 May strive to make an entrance there, 
 But cannot, cannot enter in ? 
 
 Art thou not marked by many a crime 
 
 That bath not been forgiven ? 
 And wouldst thou enter that fair clime 
 
 And mar the peace of Heaven?
 
 48 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Ah, no ; I'd rather stay below, 
 
 With creatures weak and frail like me, 
 
 Than carry guilt and sin and woe 
 Where they should never be. 
 
 But when my robes have been washed white, 
 
 And all my crimes forgiven, 
 Then I would join the saints in light 
 
 And shine on earth from Heaven.
 
 TO A SNOW BIRD. 
 
 r^ COME to my window, 
 Thou beautiful bird ! 
 
 Thy sweet little note 
 Is the only I've heard 
 
 Since the summer and autumn 
 Have vanished and gone. 
 
 All the others have left thee 
 
 To warble alone. 
 
 7
 
 50 TO A SNOW BIRD. 
 
 O come to ray window ! 
 
 The tempest's wild storm 
 Will certainly shiver 
 
 Thy beautiful form. 
 I'll give thee protection 
 
 From snow, sleet, and rain, 
 And when thou desirest 
 
 I'll free thee again. 
 
 Dost thou ask, little bird, 
 
 Why I love thee the best, 
 And why thou art dearer 
 
 To me than the rest '? 
 When the others have vanished 
 
 With sweet summer's bloom 
 Thou cometh to chee* 1 me 
 
 In winter's sad gloom.
 
 TO A SNOW BIRD. 51 
 
 I've had friends, little bird, 
 
 That would stay very near 
 To my side until tempests 
 
 And storms would appear ; 
 But when fortune's bright sunshine 
 
 Had settled in gloom 
 Those friends quickly left me 
 
 Alone to my doom. 
 
 I too have had friends 
 
 Who were faithful and true, 
 Who would stay through life's sunshine 
 
 And misfortunes too ; 
 Who closely would cling 
 
 When life's sunshine was warm, 
 But closest would cling 
 
 In its tempest and storm.
 
 DARE TO DO RIGHT. 
 
 TpELLOW-MORTALS, as you journey 
 
 Down the ebbing stream of time 
 To the sacred bar of judgment, 
 
 There to answer for each crime, 
 Let the voice within direct you 
 
 Through life's scenes of dark and light; 
 Listen to its solemn teachings, 
 
 Do what conscience says is right. 
 
 It will teach you, if you'll listen 
 
 To its still and quiet voice, 
 What's the path of right and duty, 
 
 Though it may not be your choice. 
 And in cases where temptation 
 
 Lures you from truth's path of light, 
 Lay aside your will and wishes, 
 
 Do what conscience says is right.
 
 TO MY OLD PLAYMATE. 
 
 T'VE been sitting by my window 
 In the moon's soft, gentle light, 
 
 Thinking of the past and friends beloved 
 Who are far from me to-night. 
 
 I've been wondering if thy memory 
 
 Is as faithful unto thee 
 In bringing gone-by scenes to view 
 
 As mine has been to me.
 
 54 TO MY OT.I) PI,AYMATK. 
 
 Mine has brought the ancient meadow, 
 Where we often used to go 
 
 In winter with our little sleds 
 To slide upon the snow. 
 
 It has brought the little playhouse 
 That we built upon the rock, 
 
 With its carpets and its beds of moss, 
 And its roof, the hoary oak. 
 
 There we spent the hours of summer, 
 When we were young and fair ; 
 
 But for our future years we built 
 Bright castles in the air. 
 
 On the rock upon the hillside 
 Our playhouse still doth stand, 
 
 But the castles that we built for age 
 Were only built on sand,
 
 TO MY OLD I'l.AYMATE. 55 
 
 And the waves of time came swiftly, 
 
 And from off the sandy shore 
 They washed youth's bright airy castles 
 
 From our view forever more. 
 
 We have learned that life is real 
 
 And of sterner stuff is made 
 Than our youthful visions pictured 
 
 From the future's brilliant shade. 
 
 Thou hast given to another friend 
 
 Thy hand, thy love, thy life ; 
 Thou hast tried life's stern realities, 
 
 Thou hast become a wife. 
 
 And I would not have thee falter 
 
 In thy love for that true one 
 Who has linked his fate for life's short day 
 
 With that which is thine own.
 
 6 TO MY OLD PLAYMATE. 
 
 I have bowed at that same altar, 
 And have vowed to ever love 
 
 One dearer than all other friends 
 Except the Friend above. 
 
 And may that Friend in Heaven 
 Send misery, want, and shame, 
 
 If I prove inconstant to my vow 
 Or e'er disgrace his name. 
 
 But why should ties be severed 
 That were formed in childhood's breast, 
 
 Though thy home is in an eastern land, 
 Mine in the prairied west. 
 
 Let the silver cord that bound us 
 
 In those happy days of yore 
 Grow stronger with Jthc growing years, 
 
 And bind us evermore.
 
 TO MY OLD PLAYMATE. 57 
 
 Yes, evermore remember me 
 
 As thy firm and faithful friend, 
 And while apart let our tongues be 
 
 The ever-faithful pen.
 
 THE STREAM OF TIME. 
 TVT E arc gliding down the stream of Time, 
 
 Like ships upon the sea ; 
 We're striving for that blissful clime 
 
 In the blest eternity. 
 
 We're sometimes tossed by adverse seas 
 
 Which drive us from the way 
 That leads to life and perfect peace 
 
 And everlasting day. 
 
 But if our captain is the Lord 
 
 We need not fear its power ; 
 He calms it at a single word 
 
 And quells its awful roar.
 
 THE STREAM OF TIME. 59 
 
 Then let us choose Him for our guide 
 
 Down the rough stream of Time, 
 That our frail barks may smoothly glide 
 
 To Heaven's celestial clime.
 
 BEAUTY OF THE MORNING. 
 
 "Tl^HEN the shades of night are flying 
 From the dazzling orb of day, 
 
 And the lark its wing is hieing 
 Upward on its heavenly way, 
 
 Then I rise with joy and gladness 
 From my couch of sweet repose, 
 
 And I banish grief and sadness 
 With life's many eares and woes. 
 
 I look around with admiration 
 On the meadow, hill, and wood, 
 
 And see the beauties of creation 
 Made by Him so wise and good ;
 
 BEAUTY OF THE MORNING. Gl 
 
 And then I think how thankful ever 
 
 I should strive to live and be 
 To the great and bounteous Giver 
 
 Who has been so kind to me.
 
 EVENING. 
 
 r PHE harvest moon is shining bright 
 
 O'er nature's sweet repose ; 
 No cloud obscures the mellow light 
 
 That gilds the summer rose. 
 
 But hushed and still all nature seems; 
 
 Each passion sinks to rest 
 From daylight's toils and various schemes 
 
 That agitate the breast,
 
 THE SOUL. 
 r PHE mountain tall must waste away, 
 
 The forest oak must bend ; 
 The flower is subject to decay 
 
 Who marks it for its friend. 
 
 The man of high ancestral birth, 
 
 The man of pride and lust, 
 Must yield his body to the earth : 
 
 Dust must return to dust. 
 
 But the soul, Immortal, in its prime 
 
 Shall never, never die, 
 But live throughout the boundless time 
 
 Of all eternity.
 
 DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND OA 7 THE 
 DEATH OF HER CHILD. 
 
 OHE hath passed away from all earthly sad- 
 ness, 
 
 From sin and suffering, from pain and woe, 
 To that blissful region where joy and gladness 
 
 Like mighty rivers forever flow. 
 Her spirit has gone where the soul's elysian 
 
 Never crumbles with sickness or sad decay ; 
 From terrestrial woes to the joys of Heaven 
 
 Her tender spirit hath passed away.
 
 TO MY FRIEND. 05 
 
 She has passed away, and your hearts are lonely ; 
 
 You'll miss her voice in the quiet eve ; 
 The morn will come, but its coming only 
 
 Brings dreary memories to make you grieve. 
 The noonday sun, with its beauteous beaming 
 
 Will gild our earth with a radiance bright, 
 But your hearts are sad, and its splendor gleam- 
 ing 
 
 Cannot enter in with its cheerful light. 
 
 She has passed away, and the dews of autumn 
 To-night are falling around her bed ; 
 
 She has heard the voice of her Saviour calling, 
 She has joined with the blessed, the early 
 dead. 
 
 Grieve not for the loved so early taken 
 By the frosts of death to her final home ; 
 
 For years will pass like a fleeting phantom, 
 
 And you may join in the world to come. 
 9
 
 66 TO MY FRIEND. 
 
 She hath passed away with the mild September, 
 
 Like a tender flower beginning to bloom. 
 But breath not a sigh : lone mother, remember 
 
 Her spirit hath passed beyond the tomb 
 To that happy land, to that blessed Saviour 
 
 Who called his lamb to the other shore ; 
 And when you lament your absent daughter, 
 
 Remember the skies have one angel more.
 
 TO THE FLOWERS. 
 
 T OVELY flowers of sunny summer, 
 Can it be that ye have gone 
 
 Like a transient, fleeting shadow, 
 From the hillside and the lawn ? 
 
 Can it be that ye have vanished 
 
 Like a vision of the mind,' 
 Like a passing gale of autumn, 
 
 Like a cloud before the wind '? 
 
 In vain I seek you in the valleys, 
 In vain I search the leafless grove, 
 
 In vain I wander o'er the prairies ; 
 I cannot find the flowers I love.
 
 f)8 TO THE FLOWERS. 
 
 Ye missing treasures of the summer 
 That bloomed to beautify the earth, 
 
 Why have you left the breeze that loved you, 
 The dust that gave your soft germs birth ? 
 
 In vain I call you, gentle flowers; 
 
 Ye fear old tyrant winter's reign ; 
 But when he leaves the lawn and hillside 
 
 Will you not lift your heads again ? 
 
 Adieu, fair flowers ! The hope that lingers 
 To cheer my heart since you have fled 
 
 Proclaims in loud and thrilling accents 
 That spring will resurrect the dead.
 
 HOPE. 
 
 TTOPE silently stole to the bed of disease, 
 And the sufferer's frown changed to calmness 
 
 and peace. 
 
 She went to the dwelling of sorrow and sadness, 
 And soon from that dwelling came sweet songs 
 
 of gladness. 
 
 She led the young tyro up the steep path of 
 
 fame, 
 
 And would not desert him in sickness or pain, 
 But stayed by his couch till life's last link was 
 
 riven, 
 And when he left earth she went with him to 
 
 Heaven.
 
 THE CHURCHYARD. 
 
 TDAUSE by yon churchyard, thoughtless 
 youth ! 
 
 Pass not thus careless by. 
 Here is the place, says solemn truth, 
 
 Where all must shortly lie. 
 
 Pause and reflect, gray, sober age ! 
 
 The tide of time ebbs fast ; 
 'Twill wash thee from life's busy stage, 
 
 And launch the here at last.
 
 TO THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 "DALE evening star, with gentle spark, 
 O come and bid our labors fly ; 
 
 Guide home the wanderer through the dark 
 When evening closes daylight's eye. 
 
 Conduct my thoughts, sweet star, above 
 The many cares of human life, 
 
 Where angels light each face with love, 
 And ever banish mortal strife. 
 
 And while we're journeying to the tomb 
 In this thick wilderness of tears, 
 
 Amidst the world's perplexing gloom, 
 O light our darkened clouds and fears.
 
 72 TO THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 Guide us, sweet star, while here we stay, 
 In paths of righteousness and love ; 
 
 And when our spirits leave their clay, 
 Pale evening star, light them above.
 
 THOUGHTS BY THE OCEAN. 
 
 r PHERE'S beauty in thy curling stream 
 That charms like fancy's morning dream ; 
 It lulls the senses, charms the ear, 
 And stills the nerve from torturing fear. 
 
 There's sadness in thy solemn tone 
 That echoes to the widow's moan 
 Of sorrow for the lost and brave 
 Who have found in thee a watery grave. 
 
 The-e's terror in thy threatening wave 
 
 That quells the heart, though stout and brave; 
 
 When tempests beat against thy breast 
 
 Thou art in awful terror dressed. 
 10
 
 74 THOUGHTS BY THE OCEAN. 
 
 There's music in thy murmuring roar 
 When storms have left thy shelly shore ; 
 It comes from where thy sea nymphs dwell, 
 Like music from some coral shell.
 
 I WA TCH FOR THEE. 
 
 ' r PIS evening, and the shades of night 
 
 Are stealing o'er the lea ; 
 The fire upon the hearth glows bright: 
 
 I wait and watch for thee. 
 
 The sun's last ray shines dimly on 
 
 The distant forest tree, 
 The canary now has hushed his song : 
 
 I list and watch for thee. 
 
 I hear thy footsteps on the street, 
 
 My heart throbs joyfully ; 
 1 watch no more but bound to meet 
 
 The smile thou hast for me.
 
 I WATCH FOR TIIKK. 
 
 I knew when daylight's task was done, 
 
 And thon from labor free. 
 That thou wouldst quickly hasten home 
 
 To her who watched for thec.
 
 MORNING MEDITATIONS. 
 
 A WAKE, my soul, to labor, for the day is 
 
 dawning; 
 
 The silent wheels of time are rolling fast, 
 And soon will bring the shadows of the evening, 
 When the time to labor will be ov ? er past. 
 
 And shall the evening find my task neglected, 
 The deeds of love I might have done un- 
 wrought, 
 
 And naught but idleness to my mind reflected, 
 For deep investigation, bitter thought ?
 
 78 MORNING MEDITATIONS. 
 
 Ah, no ; I would not live a life so aimless 
 
 That none would ever miss me when I'm 
 gone, 
 
 I would not leave this busy stage of action 
 With life's great purposes undone. 
 
 Hut I so faithfully would do my every duty, 
 Performing all the work to me assigned, 
 
 That all would say, when my lii'e work was 
 
 finished, 
 She did the best she could to bless mankind. 
 
 And when I cross death's cold and chilling river, 
 O may I rest, when life's hard race is run, 
 
 At home in Heaven, where I can hear my 
 
 Saviour 
 Saying, my child, well done, well done.
 
 TO MY INFANT SON. 
 
 A S I hold thy chubby hand in min< 
 
 And gaze upon thy face, 
 So innocent, so pure, where time 
 
 Hath left no farrowed trace, 
 I press thee fondly to my heart 
 
 And breathe the earnest prayer 
 That sin, with its vile, poisonous dart, 
 
 May leave no traces there.
 
 80 TO MY INFANT SON. 
 
 Thou canst not know, my little one, 
 
 Joy of my heart and life, 
 My feelings when I think thou oon 
 
 Must join earth's scenes of strife 
 And battle with its many cares, 
 
 Its thousand foes to meet, 
 And be exposed to all the snares 
 
 That are laid for little feet. 
 
 When I see thy face beam with that smile 
 
 I scarce can think that thou 
 Can e'er be led in paths of guile, 
 
 Or be less pure than now. 
 And yet I know thou art not divine, 
 
 Thou art mortal, prone to stray, 
 And, like the rest of human kind, 
 
 To miss truth's narrow way.
 
 TO MY INFANT SON. 81 
 
 But O may He whose mighty power 
 
 Contracts the raging seas 
 Lead thee, dear bov, forever more 
 
 In paths of right and peace. 
 O Saviour, guide those little feet 
 
 In the way thyself hath trod 
 Until they walk the golden street 
 
 In the Paradise of God. 
 
 11
 
 WE WHICH HAVE BELIEVED DO 
 ENTER INTO REST. 
 
 "V VTE talk of our rest in the sky, 
 Of the joys of that region so fair, 
 
 And otltimes grow weary and sigh 
 For the rest that awaiteth us there. 
 
 We speak of the river of life, 
 
 That makes glad the whole city of God, 
 We rejoice that the world's busy strife 
 
 Never enters that quiet abode. 
 
 But how often, I fear, we o'erlook 
 
 The sweet Heaven we may have in ou r 
 
 breast, 
 For the Saviour has said in his book, 
 
 That they who believe do have rest.
 
 WE WHICH HAVE BELIEVED, ETC. 83 
 
 Th it th ' stro-i j iron shackles of sin 
 
 Xo longer shall fetter the smil. 
 That th ').-( ir.iholy pa^s'ons within 
 
 No longer the he;;rt shall control. 
 
 For the Saviour has made it his home, 
 He bids its wild conflicts all cease ; 
 
 It? affections no longer shall roam, 
 
 Rut, centered on him, shall have peace. 
 
 I would not have us love Heaven less, 
 
 But I would that the whole world might 
 know 
 
 That God's kingdom may be in our breast, 
 And that Heaven may begin here below. 
 
 For I ever shall praise our dear Lord, 
 As long as life throbs in my breast, 
 
 That he ever has said in his word 
 That they who believe do have rest.
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 i ^OME, muse, 'tis midnight's quiet hour ; 
 
 The mists of night are thick and deep, 
 And Morpheus, with her awful power, 
 
 Has wrapt a drowsy world in sleep. 
 
 O bring me visions bright and fair, 
 Visions of peace, of joy, and rest, 
 
 To drive away the anxious care 
 That agitates my throbbing breast.
 
 INVOCATION. S5 
 
 Come, muse, and to this troubled heart 
 That sinks beneath its weight of woes 
 
 Bring thoughts that bid all gloom depart, 
 And hushes into sweet repose. 
 
 Dispel the clouds that overcast 
 
 My tired mind, and bring, oh ! bring 
 
 Some bright remembrance of the past 
 To lift my spirit's drooping wing. 
 
 Oh ! help me, in the time to come, 
 
 Bravely to meet earth's pain and strife, 
 
 To look midst scenes of deepest gloom 
 Upon the sunny side of life.
 
 TO THE LOVED AT HOME. 
 
 "LEATHER, mother, sister, brother, 
 Far from you to-night I roam 
 
 In a distant land of strangers, 
 Far from childhood's early home. 
 
 Far from scenes beloved in childhood, 
 Far from kindred ties of love, 
 
 Far from sunny haunts of pleasure, 
 Where in youth I loved to rove. 
 
 Autumn winds to-night are blowing, 
 
 (From Pacific's shore they come), 
 
 
 Wafting breezes of aifection 
 
 To the ones I loved at home.
 
 'IO THE LOVED AT HOME. 87 
 
 . ) :n;iy heaven's gentlest breezes 
 Wait you peace upon their wings, 
 
 And affection's bright dew moisten 
 Flowery scenes where memory clings. 
 
 Flowery scenes which faithful memory 
 Brings me from my native land, 
 
 An:l sh? helps me cull the treasures 
 With her slender, magic hand. 
 
 Hasten, breezes ! bear the message 
 That my heart sends forth to-night 
 
 To the fondly cherished loved ones, 
 When dull Morpheus takes her flight. 
 
 Tell them, though I oft have wandered 
 
 In forbidden paths and wild, 
 God has ever dealt in mercy 
 
 With their absent, erring child.
 
 LINES WRITTEN UNDER MY PICTURE. 
 
 'JV/TY soul, let not earth's scenes entwine 
 Around thec with their transient joys ; 
 
 Its glittering treasures all combine 
 To draw thee from thy native skies. 
 
 But O, my soul, forever pray 
 
 That all the powers God has given 
 
 May be engrossed each passing day 
 In laying treasures up in Heaven. 
 
 THE END.