IRLF B 3 11D I \ GIFT OF TOO?. r RD BACON ROSES AND MYRTLES. BY SARAH JERUSIIA CORNWALL. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 1881. COPY EIGHT BY SARAH JERUSHA CORNWALL. 1881. TO MY FATHER AND MY SISTER ANNA. 269551 CONTENTS. PAGE Invocation .... 11 Sylvan Pictures . 13 Give Me Leave to Love . 33 The Willows . .34 Questions ..... 36 The Fruitless Chase . . . .37 My Love ... 39 Sweet May-Flowers . . 40 Young Maids in May . . 41 The Poet and the Clouds . ,42 Memories .... 44 New-Year s Eve and Morn . .45 What is Love . . 47 The Broken Heart ... ,51 Tree and River ... 52 Under the Snow ... 53 Pensive Dreaming . 54 (j CONTENTS. PAGE Sweet Violet ... ,56 Lullaby . . 57 A Decade .... . . 58 The Bard . . 59 Breath of the Morning . . . . .61 Edith before the Looking-Glass ... 63 Gentle Annie Day . . . . 64 The Morning-Glory ... 65 Thrice-Tried . .07 Sonnet .... 08 Isabel . . . . . . .09 Welcome .... 71 The Soldier s Babe ... .73 Acceptance .... .78 Spring Token .... 79 Elfin Lay ...... .80 A Similitude . . . . . . .81 Aphorisms ..... 83 To a Parrot . . . . . . .83 Love ....... 85 Once I Loved ..... .86 Lily .... 87 Weary Years Ago ... .88 CONTENTS. 7 PAGE A Sweet Little Bird .... 90 Love Priceless . . . . . .92 The Broker s Song . . . . , 93 Buds and Blossoms . . . . . ,94 The Daisy . .... 97 Bliss ........ 98 To Chloe ....... 99 A Lament . . . . . . .99 Lines to . . . 100 Pussy ... . 101 Fate . .... 103 The Blind Grandfather . . . . .104 Marriage Bells ...... 109 A Dream . . . . . . ,111 Mirth and Wine . . . . . n-j Wondrous Witching . . . . .113 Spring-Time is Coming . . . . . 115 Little White Violet . . . . .116 Heart-Pain .... 118 To Anna . . . . 119 Ask Me Not .... 120 Poets . . . . . . .121 Song. Fly, Maiden . 123 CONTENTS. PACE She Loves Me Not ... 124 Nothing and Nobody ... 125 Merry Christmas Morning ... 126 The Bridal Eve ... 127 Mildred . . . 190 Distant Music ... 131 Woe . ,o loo The Lost Bird . . . 123 A Conceit ..... 137 Forty Times ... 13g On Receiving a Nosegay from My Lady-Love . .139 A Riddle .... 140 Bertie .... 142 Woo the Muse .... 144 Soliloquy ....... 145 Song. Oh ! Look into My Heart, Love . 148 Passing Strange . . . . . .149 Willie . ]4y Cupid as a Fortune-Teller . . . . .151 Summer Hours .... 152 The Fire-Fly . . m To Eva, on Hearing of Her Betrothal . 156 Dancing .... 158 CONTENTS. 9 PAGE Along the River . . . . . .158 Life and Love ...... 160 Song. My Heart is all one Dream of Love . . 101 The Despairing . . . . . .162 Resignation . . . . . . 165 Cradle Song . . . . . . .166 My Children. Reading from one Book . . 168 The Rose .... . 169 Art Thou Happy Lacking Me . . . 171 Phebe . . . . . . .173 Prescription . . . . . .176 Lines in an Album . . . . . .176 Lilies of the Valley .... 177 Baby . . . . .178 Agur s Prayer. Neither Poverty nor Riches . . 179 Doom ..... .181 Lines to _ , with a Rose . . 183 Trial. A Vision . 1S4 Meditation ... 187 Longing . . . . .188 Hymn. Lift up My Eyes . . . . 189 God Our Judge . .190 Wishing . 193 1 ( ) CONTENTS. Hymn. Only to Pray . . . . .194 Supplication . ... I .Ml Hymn. Hasten to the Temple .... IDS Hymn. Jesus Our Risen Saviour . . , . I M) To ..... 201 To Some Friends who Hi-quested My Likeness . 202 INVOCATION. Come, gentle Muses, teach me how to write ; Gladly Fll join you in your airy flight, Whether you lead me far o er boundless seas, Or waft me heavenward on the evening breeze ; Pll range with you the starry realms of light And learn sweet wisdom from the quiet night. ROSES AND MYRTLES. SYLVAN PICTURES. DOWN trickling, o er the mossy rock, The silent, ceaseless, crystal drops Glide and glisten, glimmer and glance, Then mingle together, clear and cool, A grateful draught, in the shallow bowl, Which, flowing, they have wrought ; Therein to linger a moment brief, And offer the traveler sweet relief. Drink, weary traveler, drink, and slake Thy burning thirst in the tiny lake ; 14 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Repose tliee in the cheerful shade, By rustling oak and chestnut made. This shady, sunny, flowery vale Recalls to memory a tale Of lovers in a by-gone day. Not such the vale where they met at eve, When from toil the workman wins reprieve ; The stream, which takes in yon spring its source, Increases ever in size and force, As it ripples along through the vine-clad bowers, Or leaps in the meadows gay with flowers, Till it flows in the valley broad and deep ; On its bosom the water-lilies sleep, The beech and willow wave above, In their branches the zephyrs whisper love, And the wild bird nestles warm and light, While her proud mate warbles a soft good night, To the cadence low of the ruining breeze, In the topmost boughs of the lofty trees. SYLVAN PICTURES. 15 When the twilight cometh, and over all, Its balmy benedictions fall, The lowing cattle, homeward bound, To quench their thirst come herding round, And the parting sun glows warm to greet The fair, pale moon, in her distance sweet, As a gracious princess, born to be Worshiped afar on bended knee. At evening, her snowy banners furled, The moon looked down on a smiling world, And no fairer sight could she there behold, Than a youthful pair who loverly strolled Along the banks of the gliding stream, Beneath her own bright, tender gleam, Led by the queen of the silver night To a wonderful sense of soft delight, Until, with shy agreement blest, The lover to his manly breast Folded his love and, lowly bowed, 16 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Undying truth to the maiden vowed, Who yielded her lips to his ardent kiss, In a rapturous foretaste of future bliss, While the moon behind a cloud withdrew. And a shadow over the lovers threw. O blissful, sweet and wondrous hour, When youthful lovers feel the power To soar above the ills of earth, And live in dreams of heavenly birth ! Alas, the evil fate that blights The freshness of such pure delights ! Oh ! why should filial duty lend Its holy power to such an end ? The gentle maiden of my tale, Whom, to this hour, the loves bew r ail ? Turned sadly from her lover s hand, Obedient to a stern command. Her father s lips the mandate spoke, SYLVAN PICTURES. 17 Which love s divine betrothal broke, Thenceforth, her glowing visions flown, She dwelt amid her mates alone. O fathers ! stay the cruel blow, Which lays a daughter s spirit low, Better, with love, a troubled lot, Than velvet ease, where love is not, Oli ! why do blight and cruel fate Ever on glowing beauty wait ? Why droops the flower At opening hour ? Wherefore, do lovers part ? Why breaks the guileless heart ? Why lays the maid her head Down in the narrow bed, Beneath the sod, The clay-cold clod ? 2 18 ROSES AND MYRTLES. But why, O pleasant, flowery vale, Recall to mind so sad a tale. And memories of pale despair Intrude upon the peaceful air ? The flickering, fleeting, changing shade, By oak and waving chestnut made, Has filled my soul with plaintive thought. With tender memories inwrought. Anon, upon my spirit s dream There flits a happier, gayer theme. See where beside a limpid stream, On which the mirrored sunbeams gleam, A maiden sits, with gaze intent ; Her eye on yonder scene is bent, Her book neglected on her knee ; She does not hear nor does she see A stranger youth, who, riding by, Cries ; Beauteous vision, which my eye SYLVAN PICTURES. 19 Beholds with exquisite delight, Thou living dream of beauty bright, Say, does that lovely form enshrine A spirit human, or divine ? If mortal maiden thou art found, I ve sought for th.ee, the wide world round ; I will thy name and home discover, And vow myself thy faithful lover, To distant lands I must depart, Short time have I to win thy heart, May Cupid speed the wooing ! One moon has waxed and waned apace ; Behold the maid, with timid grace, Exchanging vows of love and truth, At Hymen s altar, with the youth, Who, soft in speech, and brave at heart, Had sought the aid of Cupid s dart, To win the maiden for his bride, Who clingeth closely at his side, 20 ROSES AND MYRTLES. While starting on the untried life, Opened before the new-made wife. Repentance never will divide The nuptial knot so quickly tied ; For Cupid sped the wooing. O shady, sunny, flowery vale, Your flickering lights inspire my tale, While down the mossy rock Swiftly the crystal drops Glide and glisten, glimmer and glance, Then mingle together, clear and cool, A grateful draught in the shallow bowl, Which, flowing, they have wrought. Far in a wild, romantic dell, A sister spring doth meekly dwell, All rudely circled round with stones, And fashioned to a well. SYLVAN PICTURES. 21 Springing in silence from the earth, As conscious of intrinsic worth, Nor vainly seeking to allure, But offering a treasure pure, It gently overflows, And softly onward goes, And spreading all around, Upon the sloping ground, Lo, wheresoever it flows, The violet freely grows ; Violets here and violets there, Violets blooming everywhere, Violets of true-love blue, Violets of deeper hue ; Countless numbers o er the mead, Blooming without stint or heed, While here and there are traces seen Of footways winding through the green. For far and near this fountain cold Is famed for virtues manifold ; 22 ROSES AND MYRTLES. And many a drooping form forlorn Conies trembling, in the dewy morn, To quaff, in water from the spring, Strength for life s weary wandering ; And maidens, blooming, bright, Maidens with glowing eyes, And healthful cheeks, bediglit With nature s richest dyes, Come tripping to the well, To try its magic spell ; For mystic, hidden good Is in the welling flood. The maid who shall be first The chains of night to burst, Who, earliest at the spring, The webs aside shall fling, And who, with rosy lips, The pearly draught first sips, Shall all the graces win, SYLVAN PICTURES. 23 Which, hidden, are therein ; A beauty, blooming, bright, Eyes warm with loving light, An eager, active mind, A faithful heart and kind ; And lastly, for one week. Shall find whate er she seek. This the tradition old, Which neighboring; maidens hold. C"^ c5 If lovers here should meet, Before they speak to greet Each other, they must drink Together, from the brink. If, in the pride of youth, The pride of love and truth, They slight the magic spell, Once laid upon this well, Enchantment weird of old, 24 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Misfortunes manifold, The strokes of angry fate, Upon their love shall wait. If, at the fountain side, A lover find his bride, And, hungering, he sips The nectar of her lips, Before, as would beseem, He kiss the magic stream, With dismal, dreary pall, Change and disaster fall Upon the happy dream, Which lovers changeless deem, WJiile, in the quiet dell, Eternally doth swell The silent-springing well. Near by, but hidden by a wood, Long since, a lonely farm-house stood , SYLVAN PICTURES. 25 Vine-covered to the eaves And draped with shining leaves ; The rose, the eglantine, And honey-suckle vine, All lovingly entwined, And gracefully combined. The garden spoke of skill And earnest, patient will, While orchards, meadows, cornfields green, With crimson hues and golden sheen, Far-spreading round the homestead old, Of plenteous, garnered harvest told. What bounteous goddess, fairy queen, Inspired that lovely, rural scene ? The farmer s daughter, fair and neat, Ordered and ruled the sweet retreat. No longer young, no longer gay, But peaceful as the calmest day, Year after year, her gentle hand Swayed all around with mild command. ROSES AND MYRTLES. Better than goddess, crowned was she With womanly benignity. From whence that gentleness divine, That loving smile, that look benign ? Alas ! not all a flowing stream Of peace, a glowing, happy dream, The maiden s life ; her memory held A nook where sad reminders dwelled ; And often, at the purple hour, She sat within a rustic bower, Of vines and willow withes inwrought, And mused with tender, wishful thought, Of one whom well she knew in youth, ( )ne oft remembered now with ruth, Of one who then with her had trod, The violet-dotted, dewy sod, The woodland leading from the well The magic, mystic, fateful well- Urging that they should cleave United to each other ; SYLVAN PICTURES. 27 While she refused to leave Her father and her mother ; Their youngest, dearest comfort she ; Left lone by her they ne er should be. Then, forth upon a rugged world, In dreary disappointment hurled, The man, of stern and stubborn mold, With love forbidden to unfold, Thwarted and vexed by adverse fate, Eager to win, but forced to wait, With heart repressed, with stormful soul, Rushed, fiercely seeking Fortune s goal ; Overwhelming, crushing, seizing all That haply in his grasp might fall, To sate his hungry, selfish greed, His eager lust for wealth to feed ; All heedless of a neighbor s pain, Conducing to his sordid gain ; Yet longing for the joys of life, Despite the toil despite the strife. 28 ROSES AND MYRTLES. The race for fickle Fortune run, The goal attained, her favors won, With store of pelf to call his own, Yet sad, despairing and alone, By magic, love s resistless might, Drawn in the silent hours of night, He longs, he hopes, he dreams, he sighs ; Before his fancy visions rise ; Eemembered day-dreams, lost but sweet ; He seeks, at length, the calm retreat, Where, in the lonely willow bower, At lang syne even s trysting hour, The maiden, with her faithful heart, Keeps vigil of her love apart, Till, darkening o er her spirit s light, As dusky twilight ushers night, The shade of buried feeling creeps, And memory, faithful, brooding, weeps. Oh ! weep no longer, gentle bride ; Henceforward, ever, side by side SYLVAN PICTUEES. 29 With him for whom thy heart has yearned, Thy bridegroom, lover, home returned, At lang syne even s trysting hour, Thou lt linger in the rustic bower, While softly, sweetly, nesting nigh, The mother birds sing lullaby. O glorious, golden, sunset hour ! No longer lonely willow bower. O life of sweet satiety And ever-new variety ! O shady, sunny, flowery vale ! Whose flickering lights inspire my tale, Those lives, long parted, sundered wide, Now flowing in one blended tide, Have called to mind a distant scene, Where, swelling through the mosses green, High on a craggy mountain height, Two springs leap gayly into sight, Two lusty streamlets, purling brooks, 30 ROSES AXD MYRTLES. With waterfalls and sudden crooks ; From rock to rock they briskly slide, And murmur gayly, side by side, With many a frolic twist and freak, Till, parted by a rugged peak, And seeking freer scope, One down a gentle slope, Pursues her tranquil course, Moving with quiet force, While countless blessings lie Around her, passing by. She feeds the waving reeds, Supplies the lily s needs, Bedews the creeping vine, Revives the browsing kine, While, as she onward flows, And deep her channel grows, Her widening basin fills, From tributary rills. SYLVAN PICTURES. 31 The other nimble mountain spring, Stopped rudely in meandering, And headlong plunged, with frantic leaps, Ad own a thousand jagged steeps, Crashing, dashing, Foaming, splashing, Down whirling from the mountain s height, A torrent of resistless might, On through the rocky channel speeds, Nor obstacle nor dalliance heeds, Till, captured by a master will, Tis forced to turn the busy mill, Then through the wide-spread plain it winds, And there its sister streamlet finds. Two noble rivers, deep and fleet, They meet, and mingling as they meet, There in the valley s space, With broad and placid face, A lake of goodly size, The blended water lies ; 32 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Now commingled, one forever, Deeply flowing, silent, strong, On its trusty bosom ever, Safely floats its charge along. shady, sunny, flowery vale, Your flickering lights grow dim and fail, While evening spreads her dusky veil ; No longer on my fancy s wing Your lights and shadows beauty fling, And wanton gayly while I sing ; As home I wend, at closing day, Along the flower-scented way, 1 linger in the twilight gray ; Again, my muse, your brightness shows, And in the dark with beauty glows. GIVE ME LEAVE TO LOVE. 33 GIVE ME LEAVE TO LOVE. OH ! to lay, for life, for death, Mj head upon thy faithful breast ; There to draw my latest breath, Where I have found my life-long rest ! I pray thee, give me leave to love ; And never will my fancy rove. Oh ! to taste the purest bliss, Which life to mortal man can give ; To know the rapture of thy kiss, My own so long as both shall live. I pray thee, give me leave to love ; And never will my fancy rove. Oh ! to hold within my arms A very heaven of pure delight ; 3 34: ROSES AND MYRTLES. To know thy love, with all its charms, My own by dearest, surest right. I pray thee, give me leave to love ; And never will my fancy rove. THE WILLOWS. DIP dip the weeping willows, Dip dip in the tiny billows ; The placid lake is broad and clear, Its depths a starry heaven appear, While dip dip the weeping willows, Dip dip in the tiny billows. Urged onward by a wild despair, With hurried step and frantic air, A mortal seeks the lonely shore- Yet but one step and all is o er ; THE WILLOWS. 35 Hark ! he hears the weeping willows, Dip dip in the tiny billows. He casts a look in the starry deep, One look ere he takes the fatal leap ; Shall a mirrored Heaven be the door Of a burning Hell f orevermore ? He lifts his eyes to the shining dome ; He lifts his thoughts to that happy home, Which the Father prepareth for such as he ; He sinks to earth on bended knee, Crying, " God be merciful unto me " ; And God, who loveth a broken heart, Comfort and healing doth impart ; While dip dip the weeping willows, Dip dip in the tiny billows. 36 EOSES AND MYRTLES. QUESTIONS. ASK a maiden of the fancies, IJnawakened yet, which sleep In her heart, which lightly dances, While its bounding pulses leap ; Question of their merry glances, Eyes which have not learned to weep. Ask a lover of the burnings Through, his throbbing heart which surge ; Ask him of the countless yearnings Which his brain to madness urge, In their fruitless, vain returnings, Driving him unto its verge. Ask a mother why it bringeth To her bosom such a glow, THE FRUITLESS CHASE, 37 When her little baby clingeth To her breast as pure as snow, While sweet lullabys she singeth, Tender soothings, soft and low. THE FRUITLESS CHASE. BENEATH the red sun s burning rays, On one of August s fiery days, Through devious, dusty, winding way I chased a butterfly. Returning from the fruitless chase, With fever kindling on my face, I sadly mourned my foolish race, To win a butterfly. 38 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Long on my restless bed I tossed ; The prize which had so dearly cost, For which my health I rashly lost, Only a butterfly. Such, cried I, is the fate of those, Who, lured by dazzling gauds and shows, Will follow, wheresoe er she goes, A giddy butterfly. Winding about in crooked ways, Delusive paths of folly s maze, Through fevered nights and weary days, They chase a butterfly. They lose their strength and length of years ; Amid remorse and bitter tears, The tempting prize at length appears Only a butterfly. MY LOVE. 39 MY LOVE. No queenly beauty is my love, With jeweled coronet ; My love is like the cooing dove, Or fragrant mignonette. Content to nestle at my side, A trusting, loving wife ; No vain desire of power, no pride, Disturbs her peaceful life. And like the unpretending flower, With qualities most meet Her gentle graces fill my bower With pleasures pure and sweet. My winsome love, so fair and gay, With dove-like charms and wiles, Can steal oppressive cares away, And win my heart to smiles. 40 ROSES AND MYRTLES. SWEET MAY-FLOWERS. SWEET May-flowers are bonny, They hide themselves away ; I went, one day, with Johnny To seek the flowers of May. The May-flowers were bonny, When, light of heart and gay, I wandered far with Johnny Along the woodland way. Sweet May-flowers are bonny ; A merry, blithesome day, Was that I spent with Johnny In seeking flowers of May. Sweet May-flowers are bonny, All hidden snug away ; I ll go again with Johnny To find the flowers of May. YOUNG MAIDS IN MAY. 41 YOUNG MAIDS IN MAY. YOUNG maids in May Go singing on their way ; Ah ! one might pass a day With fair young maids in May, Who sing, " Sweet May-flowers are bonny " ; Heigh-ho ! Young maids are bonny . Young maids in May Go singing all the day ; To bliss they lead the way. Those fair young maids in May, Who sing, " Sweet May-flowers are bonny " ; Heigh-ho ! Young maids are bonny. Young maids in May, All blooming, blithe and gay ; 42 ROSES AND MYRTLES. All ! one might learn the way From fair young maids in May, Who sing, " Sweet May-flowers are bonny " ; Heigh-ho ! Young maids are bonny. Young maids in May Go singing on their way ; Ah ! one might go astray With fair young maids in May, Who sing, " Sweet May-flowers are bonny " ; Heigh-ho ! Young maids are bonny. THE POET AND THE CLOUDS. POET. YE glorious clouds, whence come ye, whither tend, Dread thunder portents of majestic mien { THE POET AND THE CLOUDS. 43 A marshalled army from the skies ye speed ; Sharp flashes lightning on your frowning front ; Your thunders roar ; earth trembles at their sound. The contest o er, the conquered earth subdued, Swift ye return upon your airy space ; Children of heaven, again the skies ye seek. Tenant of earth, I breathe a sordid air, Your state I envy, and your lofty sphere. CLOUDS. Kay, child of man, thy words, of folly breathe ; Thou reckest naught of nature s subtilty. From earth first sprung, the earth our final goal, A brief, bright hour we hold a noble state, Then sink to earth, lost in her grimy deeps. 44 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Destined for Heaven, that realm thy spirit craves. And fain above the chains of earth would soar. Impelled, aspiring, to a high estate ; Thence, all thy longings for a lofty sphere ; Thy purpose reaching to sublimity. Aspire ; attain ; immortal, live for aye, While we, the earth-sprung vapors, pass away. MEMOKIES. WE were married in the Autumn, In the season of content ; And exulting in its sweetness, All our honey-moon we spent. NEW-YEAR S EVE AND MORN. But of honey for our wedlock Love had gathered such a store, That although we feast upon it. Still our treasure yields us more. In the years we ve lived together, Many changing moons we ve seen ; But, in rough or pleasant weather, Each a honey-moon has been. NEW-YEAK S EYE AND MOKN. SOFT and thickly falls the snow, On a dreary New-Year s eve ; Madly do the wild winds blow, While the Old Year takes his leave, And the young New Year perforce Enters roughly on his course. 46 ROSES AND MYKTLES. Dawning fair, without a cloud, All the New- Year s morn beholds Is the white and dazzling shroud, Which the scars of earth enfolds ; All the landscape, every where, Smiling, beaming, purely fair. Covered by the spotless snow, All the fields and meadows lie ; ~Not a trace by which to know Aught of busy days gone by ; Yet those buried fields are now Seamed and furrowed by the plough. Joying in his glad young strength, Laughs in glee the merry sun, Heedless of the toilsome length Ere the twelvemonth s course be run ; Yet that weary, woeful race Soon will dim his smiling face. WHAT IS LOVE? 47 Gladdened by his cheerful beams, Joy we, comrades, laugh and sing ; Once more dream we pleasant dreams, This year may fulfilment bring ; Pass the friendly wish around, May this year in joys abound. WHAT IS LOVE? FIRST VOICE. WHAT is love ? The wildest folly, Dire infatuation. Does love entice thee ? Fly, Oh ! haste thee ! Fly for thy salvation ! 48 ROSES AXD MYRTLES. Love is a grievous ill. Once in the snare, Thou rt parted from thy judgment to discern Twixt right and wrong, the evil and the good. Blinded by love, all will seem fair to thee ; All gentle and all good. Thou wilt neglect Thy home, thy friends, thy duty, and wilt spend Thy life s best strength in winning that which won May prove a thorn to rankle evermore. Nay, fly from love. It leads us far astray ; If thou would st wed, let reason guide the way. Love is ever wildest folly, Dire infatuation, If love entice thee, Fly, Oh ! haste thee ! Fly for thy salvation. WHAT IS LOVE? 49 SECOND VOICE. What is love ? A voice from Heaven ; Angel invitation. Does love invite thee ? Hear ! Oh ! heed thee ! Hear the invitation. Behold A crowded room, gay robes and brilliant lights, Perfume of flowers and music of the dance. Beside a garden window overhung With snowy garlands of the bridal rose Stand man and maiden in the dream of life, Alone amid a crowd. ^No eye gives heed ; ~No voice disturbs their blissful dream. They stand, Hand clasped in hand, and she with downcast eyes, In joy new-found, too deep, too still for words, Till by the lull of music half-aroused. 50 ROSES AND MYRTLES. How can they now return into the crowd And gaudy glare of lights ? Nay rather forth Upon the terraced walk There, arm in arm, Wrapped by the moon in cloak of silver light, They linger, gazing toward the star of love, So will they walk together through life s vale, Each all-contented with the other s love, And ever looking toward their guiding star. Love is ever sent from Heaven, With angel invitation, If love invite thee, Hear and yield thee To love s solicitation. THE BROKEN HEART. 51 THE BKOKEN HEAET. O MOTHEE, let me lay my head Upon thy loving breast ; Youth s sunny dreams from me have fled, I only long for rest. Dear mother, while I lay my head Upon thy yearning breast, My heart, by cheating hope misled. Still vainly longs for rest. O mother, hold my aching head Upon thy faithful breast ; Ere long, among the quiet dead Thy weary one shall rest. 52 ROSES AND MYRTLES. TEEE AND lilVER. TREE. WHITHER speed you, restless river ? Whither? Whither? While so eagerlj you quiver ; Whither? Whither? RIVER. Forth to swell the mighty ocean ; Swelling, swelling, Boundless mass, in surging motion ; Swelling, swelling. Thither speed I, restless river ; Thither, thither ; While with eagerness I quiver ; Thither, thither. UNDER THE SNOW. 53 In the vast of heaving motion Lost, to vanish ; In the grandeur of the ocean, Gladly vanish. UKDER THE SNOW. UNDER the snow there s a promise growing, Rich and bountiful, warm and bright ; A promise of milk and honey flowing, Of earth in summer glories dight. Under the snow for the spring-time s pleasure, The teeming earth keeps warm her heart ; So my darling shields her bosom s treasure, With a snowy veil of maiden s art. 54 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Under the snow of her queenly coldness, Glows and gladdens a promise bright ; Melting the snows into tender boldness, To bless my life with a rare delight. PENSIVE DKEAMHTO. OH ! the sweet, the pensive dreaming, Of this cloudy, sunless day ; All my cares and trials seeming From my life to fade away. Heavenly love seems brooding o er us, Shielding us with out-stretch d wings ; Watching tenderly before us, Warding off all hurtful things ; PENSIVE DREAMING. 55 While our hearts, with timid quaking, Heed the warning call of love ; Kef uge from all evil taking In the mighty power above. Like the trustful birdies creeping Close within the downy nest ; Snugly and securely sleeping, Underneath their mother s breast. May the sweet, the pensive dreaming Of this cloudy, sunless day, Chasten, and with softened feeling Temper all life s weary way. 56 ROSES AND MYRTLES. SWEET VIOLET. OF all the flowers the garden shows, The lowliest one, that meekest grows, And hides its unobtrusive head Beneath the leaves which fill its bed, Is sweetest, dearest, best of all ; Sweet violet, the gem we call. Of all the maidens, fair and kind, The lowliest, meekest one we find, Who hides her graces, pure and rare, Far from the world s unveiling glare, Is sweetest, dearest, best of all ; Sw^eet violet, the maid we call. LULLABY. 57 LULLABY. BYE, baby, bye, Lullaby on my breast, Bye, baby, bye, Little bird in her nest ; Lullaby, lullaby, lull. Bye, baby, bye, My soft little dove ; Bye, baby, bye, Pretty rose-bud of love ; Lullaby, lullaby, lull. Bye, baby, bye, Till the day gins to blink ; Bye, baby, bye, Nor wake for a wink ; Lullaby, lullaby, lull. 58 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Bye, baby, bye, Little sun beaming bright ; Bye, baby, bye, Lullaby all the night ; Lullaby, lullaby, lull. A DECADE. TEN years ago, in marriage vows, I pledged my love to thee ; My heart, my life, and endless truth ; And thou didst give to me, Most solemnly, thy plighted troth, Ever mine own to be. Ten years have passed, my vow is kept, Unbroken, until now ; THE BARD. 59 My life, my faith, untiring love, I ve given thee ; and thou Hast recompensed my constancy With thy dishonored vow. THE BARD. OH ! do not trust the bard, He takes delight in lying ; And while he sings for joy, Declares that he is sighing. When, glad of heart, he smiles, He prates of deadly sorrow ; And if, perchance, he grieve, Will notes of gladness borrow. 60 ROSES AND MYRTLES. I knew a poet once, Whose cup o erflowed with blessing, With happiness and love, And fortune s blind caressing. Propitious at his birth, The lavish goddess smiled ; And with the joys of earth Endowed this favored child. And yet the cunning wight. With many a doleful ditty, Lamenting o er his plight, Demanded tender pity. He sang of loss and pain, And while he lived in gladness, Employed his happy life In plaintive songs of sadness. BREATH OF THE MORNING. 01 Then never trust a bard, Melodiously lying ; He, while he lives in joy, "Will vow that he is sighing. BEEATH OF THE MORNING. A MADRIGAL. BREATH of the morning ! Breathe on my rose ; With freshest adorning, Bedeck her repose. Fondle her tresses, Free, flowing veil, With gentlest caresses Of soft, wooing gale. 62 HOSES AND MYRTLES. Wake her with singing Of birds on the wing ; A gay chorus winging, Their matins to sing. Greet her awaking From love, in a dream, With rosiest breaking Of day s dawning gleam. All that is meetest, All that is bright, Waft to my sweetest, To wake her delight. EDITH BEFORE THE LOOKING-GLASS. 63 EDITH BEFOEE THE LOOKING-GLASS. BEFOEE a glass stands little Edith, Attracted by her own sweet face ; Its infant loveliness she heedeth, And marvels at the baby grace. She marks each changing smile and dimple, The rosy cheeks and dancing curls, With bright blue eyes, so frank and simple. The prettiest of little girls. Then slowly, softly, half-unwitting, Her lips those mirrored beauties meet ; Unconscious tribute, well-befitting, Beauty so innocent and sweet. 6tt KOSES AND MYRTLES. GENTLE ANKLE DAY. WILL you of azure truest and rarest ? Will you of roses freshest and fairest ? Will you of nectar sweetest and purest ? Seek gentle Annie Day. Will you of love-thoughts, tenderest, deepest Will you of love-looks, shyest and sweetest ? Will you of love-deeds, freest and fleetest ? Woo gentle Annie Day. Have you a heart for love, fervent and true ? Have you an arm to shield, brave will to do ? Then boldly seeking her, gallantly woo, Win gentle Annie Day. THE MORNING-GLORY. THE MOKOTNG-GLOKY. I WILL hide me in the earth, I, poor seed ! I am small and hard, not worth Much indeed. In the soft and mellow ground, Buried deep, I shall nevermore be found, Where I sleep. If a useful grain of wheat, Golden corn, Or for any service meet, I were born, Then right gladly to the mill Would I give My small body ; with good will Cease to live. 66 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Then, beyond the light of day, Out of sight, Sank the lowly seed away Into night. But the life-producing mold Did its form Snugly in its bed enfold, Soft and warm. Into life sprang up the seed, New and fine ; Not a useless, cumbrous weed, But a vine Strong and green, which met the Sun Every day, With new blossoms, every one Fresh and gay. Climbing on the roadside wall, Free and bright, THRICE-TRIED. G7 It rejoiced the hearts of all At the sight. Then the seed which had been changed, By God s hand, Knew that all was well-arranged. Wisely planned. THKICE-TKIED. TIIKICE tried, thrice broken and a third time healed, Now is my soul at rest ; her safety sealed ; Here have I gained at length life s placid stream ; Here is it given me to rest and dream. Thus spake a wanderer, travel-worn and gray ; Whose feet had travelled far life s weary way. 68 ROSES AND MYRTLES. While trembling on his lips the word still hung, Again with sudden grief his heart is wrung ; O fool ! and slow to learn ! he sadly cries ; Did st dream of rest and peace below the skies ? Oh, that my spirit wings had like the dove ! Then would I flee away and be at rest ; Only in Heaven can the soul be blest. SONNET. WHEN we with urgent will our wish require, God hearkens not ; we ask, but ask in vain ; When we a blessing from the Lord desire, Faith only may His gracious favor gain ; Faith in His providence, faith in His love, Faith in the wisdom of His mighty will ; ISABEL. 69 Faith in God s majesty, all might above, Faith in His power His promise to fulfil. When to our Father s feet our wish we bring, Obedient to His will our wills incline, His tender bounty gives each needful thing, And shapes our destiny with love divine ; Love far beyond the scope of mortal men, Their best conceptions and their wisest ken. ISABEL. LOOK not with an evil longing, On the dainty Isabel ; Harbor no desire of wronging The lovely maiden, Isabel. 70 HOSES AND MYRTLES. Our village pride, our village beauty, Is mirthful, merry Isabel ; You ne er can lead astray from duty The modest maiden, Isabel. With gold and jewels you may try her, They re dust and dross to Isabel ; Your wealth and lands can never buy her, My honest-hearted Isabel. In yonder cottage, hour by hour, She minds her work, brave Isabel ; No lordly heir of wealth and power May ever mate with Isabel. In spring-time, when the birds were pairing, I told my love to Isabel ; With ardent wooing, boldly daring, I won the heart of Isabel. WELCOME. 71 High Heaven to our witness taking, I plighted troth with Isabel ; Her vow she ne er will dream of breaking, My loyal maiden, Isabel. I ve wrought with vigor in my calling, I ve gained a home for Isabel ; And thither, when the leaves are falling, I ll take my bride, my Isabel. WELCOME. SWEET dove, thy sheltered nest Shall be my loving breast. Here hide thy fluttered heart, Chased by the venomed dart. 72 ROSES AXD MYRTLES. Here quiet thine alarms, Safe here within my arms. Here rest thy watchful eyes, Here breathe thy grateful sighs Sweet, gentle-hearted dove. Here thou art welcome, love. Flee from the evil air, Where oft doth lurk a snare. Here reach no powers of ill, To work their evil will. Fled from the stormful height, To lowly, calm delight, No terror shall affright My dove, by day or night. THE SOLDIER S BABE. 73 THE SOLDIER S BABE. A MOTHER is weeping, While the world is all sleeping, Sobs frequent, heart-breaking Betoken her woe ; Her baby is dying, In her clasping arms lying, Her all death is taking, Her idol must go. The word has been spoken. And her fond heart is broken, Long, long ere day-breaking, Her cup shall be filled ; The moments were numbered, Till her boy in death slumbered, No skill nor pains-taking Can change what God willed. ROSES AND MYRTLES. Insatiately gazing Into blue eyes fast glazing, Press kisses, sad mother, On cheek, brow and neck ; Once more to see clearly The sweet face loved so dearly, Your agony smother, Your blinding tears check. To God who has given, Lift the heart which is riven, He ever is heeding The prayers which we send ; Your darling yet liveth, And the Father, who giveth An ear to our pleading, In mercy may bend. O Savior, most holy, Hear thy suppliant lowly, THE SOLDIER S BABE. 75 Thou, Victor art reigning O er death and the grave ; Thy power in blessing Ever chiefly expressing, Show pity in deigning Our treasure to save. In battle engaging, In the fore-front s wild raging, His father is daring The wrath of the foe ; O Father, All Holy ! Heed thy suppliant lowly, Our precious one sparing, His father to know. A struggle a gasping And the mother is clasping, Distractedly screaming, A form without life ; 76 ROSES AND MYRTLES. The fierce conflict ended, On the greensward extended, A soldier is dreaming Of baby and wife. The mother still weepeth, While her boy in death sleepeth, The soldier undaunted New danger has braved ; The Father, most holy, To his suppliant lowly, This answer has granted, Her darling is saved. He s saved from all evil, From the world and the devil, From sorrow and sighing, From pain and from sin ; Kedeemed and sainted, Before God all untainted, THE SOLDIER S BABE. 77 The infant in dying, Such blessing doth win. Then, mother, cease weeping O er the babe in death sleeping, His spirit immortal Is safe in God s love, His messenger heeding, Upward eagerly speeding, It passed through death s portal. To glory above. At the coming of Jesus, Who from sin and death frees us, The body which perished Immortal shall rise ; Exalted, victorious, Inconceivably glorious, The babe you have cherished Shall reign in the skies. 78 ROSES AND MYRTLES. ACCEPTANCE. YES ! both my hands and all my heart, All that I am I gladly give ; And wilt thou nevermore depart, Ever beside thee may I live ? Oh ! May I always hear thy voice, Be welcome ever at thy side ; And will thy noble heart rejoice, In union with me to abide i O blissful day ! O glad ! O sweet ! Oh ! thus to look upon thy face ! Nay, dearest, seated at thy feet, Here is my longed-for resting-place. SPRING TOKEX. 79 Oil ! Lay thy bands upon my brow ; Thus lay them softly on my bead ; Oh ! I have longed to be as now, My heart is healed. My griefs are fled. SPKIXG TOKEN. THERE S a glint of the spring in the sunshine this even, Said Delia, one late winter s day ; A glinting of spring, like a token from Heaven, Gives a glow to the sun s parting ray. So when life s weary winter is nearing its ending, And we count the few days ere its close ; A gleaming of spring-tide eternal, transcending, Sheds a glow from above on our snows. 80 ROSES AND MYRTLES. ELFIN LAY. TKIP trip tra la lay Merrily sound the elfin lay ; Merrily ring, Cheerily sing, Gallant elf and sprightly fay. Trip trip tra la lay- Airily dance till dawning day ; In fairy ring, Daintily swing, And floating zephyrs lightly sway. Trip trip tra la lay- Answering echoes far away, Lively and gay, Echo the lay, Fairies sing till break of day. A SIMILITUDE. 81 A SIMILITUDE. BEHOLD this lowly plant. The simple leaves, Glossy and lanceolate, and lightly swayed By softest airs that blow, make all its claim To beauty ; all its show of fair array. It bears, indeed, a blossom ; all plants bloom, By rule of nature ; but with sparing hand, No brilliant hues she granted here, no form Symmetrical, but hid the modest flower Beneath the leaves, from which its paler tint Is scarce discernible. No fragrant breath Is wafted toward us from the tiny shrub. Why ask I for such insignificance So much regardful thought ? Reach forth your hand, And press between your fingers one small leaf. 2 ROSES AND MYRTLES. What ravishes the sense, and fascinates, While sweet, entrancing odor fills the air ? Henceforward this small plant Is valued as a charming source of pleasure. So the All-wise creates, sometimes, a heart, Which, while the calm, unruffled, cloudless days Of prosperous earthly life- glide swiftly by, O erfull of joys and glowing hours of bliss, Exhibits no peculiar excellence. But when the hand that made, Crushes the tender spirit, that it thrills, God gives the poet-soul the power to breathe Itself in dulcet strains of wondrous music, Soul-stirring, powerful notes, which the charmed ear And listening heart of all, own God-created, And yield Him praise. APHORISMS. 83 APHOKISMS. UNBEND the bow, relax the strain, Or seek the arrow s speed in vain. Unbend the mind, relax the brain, Or seek the arrowy thought in vain. TO A PAKEOT. O POLLY, cease your senseless gabble ! Your noisy laughter, shrieks and shouts, May serve to please the vulgar rabble Of giddy maids and lazy louts. 84: ROSES AND MYRTLES. But, Polly, when a man of learning Is fain to ponder weighty themes, Your parrot tongue his brain is turning, With vengeful deeds his fancy teems. You, Poll, appear to him in vision, With glazing eyes and broken neck ; Your tongue, with lunatic derision, He takes, his gloomy den to deck. Then, Polly, when you see a student, Intent upon his musty books, Take my advice, poor Poll, be prudent, Nor twit him with his sombre looks. LOVE. 85 LOYE. LOVE stays not long with maids who slight his pleading ; The flames of love need dextrous, dainty feeding ; Tis but a fable wrought for hearts undoing, To keep your love, be deaf to all his wooing. Love is a timid, wary guest, Whose temper tis not wise to test ; Give him rough, unhandsome using, And straight he flits, another choosing. 86 EOSES AND MYRTLES. ONCE I LOVED. ONCE I loved, and loving, fancied Love like mine must meet return ; Such a flame of love, enkindled, Should not, could not, vainly burn. All too soon I learned full surely, Learned with heart-consuming pain, Love like mine that burned so wildly, Could be, would be, all in vain. LILY. 87 LILY. FAIREST of summer flowers, Sheltered in garden bowers, Child of the sunny hours, Lily, my Lily. While dewy breezes blow, While summer sunbeams glow, Ere blight of sin or woe Sully my Lily ; Comes from the angel band One who, with gentle hand, Up to the sunny land, Bears my sweet Lily. gg ROSES AND MYRTLES. WEARY YEAES AGO. LIFE was bright and sunny, All the hours were light, Hope, in fairy visions Flamed upon the sight, All the past and present Flooded in the glow Cast upon the future Weary years ago. Not a mist of sadness Dimmed the prospect bright ; Not a breath of coldness Boded of the night ; Xot the faintest shadow Of the clouds of woe Chilled the dawn of transport Weary years ago. WEARY YEARS AGO. 89 Day-dreams pure and happy Revelled gay and bright, All the fleeting moments Trembled with delight, Hearts knew naught of sadness, No heart-breaking throe, In the day of gladness Weary years ago. Like the early snowflake Vanished into air, Like the beauteous rainbow Evanescent, fair, All the brilliant visions Lost their fairy glow, All the prospect darkened Weary years ago. Dark, o er all the future, Clouds of sadness lie ; 90 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Not a gleam of brightness Lights the frowning sky ; Gloomy forms of darkness Heavy shadows throw From the clouds that gathered Weary years ago. A SWEET LITTLE BIRD. A SWEET little bird in the tangled bushes ; Sing low, sing cheery ; Sing, little bird, the world-old tune ; Sing to your dearie. A snug little nest in the tangled bushes ; Sing low, sing cheery ; Sing, little bird, the world-old tune ; Sing to your dearie. A SWEET LITTLE BIRD. 91 Five tiny eggs in the snug little nest, oh ! Sing low, sing cheery ; Sing, little bird, the world-old tune ; Sing to your dearie. Five tiny birds in the snug little nest, oh ! Sing low, sing cheery ; Sing, little bird, the world-old tune ; Sing to your dearie. Fly, little birds, from the tangled bushes ; Fly far, sing cheery ; Sing, little bird, the world-old tune ; Sing to your dearie. ROSES AND MYRTLES. LOYE PEICELESS. IT is an old-world maxim, taught of yore, If one, for love, would offer all his store, If, for the priceless boon, love s quenchless flame, He d give his all of substance freely brought, The paltry essay, tried unto his shame, Would be contemned, unworthy of a thought. Love strong as death, love deeper than the grave, Meek as the lamb, and like the lion, brave, Bold as the eagle, gentle as the dove, No wealth of precious stores can purchase love. Born of the breath of God, man s nobler part, Child of the soul, plant of a noble heart, A heavenly germ, borne in the soil of earth, None but a godlike soul can give it birth. THE BROKER S SONG. 93 THE BECKER S SONG. TALK not to me of eyes and kisses, Of clinging arms and moonlight hour ; Talk not to me of love s soft blisses, My heart has never owned love s power. Talk not to me of raven tresses, Of dewy lips and sunny locks ; Talk not of lover s fond caresses ; I d rather hear the price of stocks. Let others cherish vain illusions, My heart is proof against their sway ; Unsound investment, love s delusions, I m quite assured it would not pay. ROSES AND MYRTLES. BUDS AND BLOSSOMS. BUDS and blossoms we On the parent tree ; Shyly peeping, Slowly creeping Forth the world to see. Looking forth between Floating veils of green, We are gazing On a mazing Wilderment of scene. Earth, in gala drest, Gorgeous, glowing vest, Wide-extending Beauties blending, Festive, east and west. BUDS AND BLOSSOMS. 95 Bounteous mother, Earth, Smile upon our birth ; Kindly nourish That we flourish Into noble worth. Breezes, gently blow ; Genial sunshine glow, Ardor beaming Cause our streaming Sap to rise and flow. Feed us, humid air, Fill our petals fair, Finely winding Veinlets finding Juices fresh to bear. Vivid rays of light Hither wing your flight ; 96 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Fiery darting Warmth imparting, Tint with rose our white. Buds of promise we Blooming fair to see ; Fragrance breathing On the wreathing Winds that flutter free. Of us, every flower, Hidden, folds a dower, Now enfolden Gleaming golden Eipe in autumn s hour. THE DAISY. 97 THE DAISY. A SINGLE flower upon a lowly bed, First-born, new-wakened to a bright, brief life, Dew-nourished, sunrise-tinted, wrought of heaven, The daisy bud of promise eye of day. A maid uprisen fair from rosy sleep, Her cheek warm-kindling at the kiss of morn, Floats in the sun-light to the daisy bed, Severs with eager hand the lowly stem, And lifts the floweret to a lip of love Tis Marguerite, our tender household plant, Just budding into blooming maidenhood. A maiden form, silent and cold in death, An open grave upon a grassy slope Bury the early dead beneath the sod, And plant the daisy on the new-made grave. 7 98 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Our quiet home no more with laughter gay, ~No tripping step, no early morning song Our Marguerite, our bud of promise, sleeps, Waiting, in peace, the resurrection morn, While daisies yearly bloom above her grave. BLISS. WHEN soft the warbler trills his tender note, When rosy cloudlets thwart the azure float, When couches Phoebus in his golden state, Then leaps my heart to meet its genial mate. When morn her portal opes to greet the day, When beams the earth with mingled beauties gay, When glows all nature at Sol s ardent kiss, Then wakes my heart in sweetly wedded bliss. TO CIILOE. 99 TO CIILOE. CUPID, saluting, pierced my lips With darts, the arch deceiver ; Dear Chloe, lend your damask cheek, To cool their burning fever. A LAMENT. HE loved me not. He loved my cheek s warm glow; The roses blooming on a bed of snow. He loved me not. He loved the beaming eye, The cherry lips that breathed for him a sigh. He loved the snowy bosom s classic mould, The rounded arm, the soft bright curls of gold. Not me he loved. He loved my form so fair ; Not me but my gay laugh and lightsome air. 100 ROSES AND MYRTLES. He loved me not. O maids who hear my woe, Freely for me let tears of pity flow. I gave him all a tender maiden gives To him in loving whom alone she lives. My love so strong drove even death away ; He spared the victim whom he came to slay. The tyrant left me to my lover s arms, But drew so near, he blighted all my charms. O Death ! that I had died ! with thee had flown, Before my ardent lover cold had grown ; Before I wandered lone, by him forgot ; He loved me not ! Ah me ! He loved me not. LINES TO JUST eight and seventy years ago, to-day Since thou, a helpless infant, cradled lay, New-born, and with a living soul endowed ; PUSSY. 101 No loving heart, no mind illumed by age, The wealth of noble talents could presage, Which to thy spirit s portion were allowed. But now all climes, all peoples know the power, Which budded in thee at thy natal hour. PUSSY. PUSSY, why so sentimental ? Meditate you, in a trice, Something very detrimental To the world of rats and mice ? Is it simply accidental, That you wear so grave a face ? Merely something incidental To the quiet time and place ? 102 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Does that look of meditation Cover thoughts of anxious care ? Are you deep in cogitation, How your prey you may ensnare ? Why, O Puss, so consequential, As you move about the house ? Win you thus such deferential Peeps from every skulking mouse ? Fierce your eyes quick scintillations, When his mouseship you espy ; Well-content your cantillations, While you watch your victim die. Creature formed of contradictions, Soft and gentle, fierce and sly ; Favorite of witchcraft fictions, With the broomstick in the sky. FATE. 103 FATE. THE evenings come and the evenings go ; The mystic moon is greeting, Each evening, with her purest glow. Two lovers, at their meeting. The evenings come and the evenings go ; The tender moon shines ever ; But Fate has dealt a cruel blow, Those loving ones to sever. The evenings come and the evenings go, With silvery moonbeams lighted ; But moonbeams lift no shades of woe From lives thus grief -benighted. 104 ROSES AND MYRTLES. THE BLIND GRANDFATHER. AYE, Mary, you may roll my garden-chair, Out on the lawn, beneath the old elm-tree ; The sun is almost set, and while his rays, In parting, linger warmly on my brow, I ll dream myself back to the happy days, When these blind eyes could see and feast upon The sunset gorgeous in the western sky. Even now I see as with mine eyes, for still, While memory, ever faithful, with me dwells, What I have seen or known, at any time During my life that s past, is all my own. While memory is true ; but if she e er Refuse to answer to my eager call, Then dark, indeed, will be the little span, Remaining to me of too long a life. THE BLIND GRANDFATHER. 105 Dark dark all dark ; I then shall grope my way, Seeking, still seeking for my treasures lost ; Yet vainly seeking till I find my grave. Thrice welcome, then, my ever welcome grave ; In finding thee, all I have lost is found, Sight, memory, strength, and my beloved wife. Too fondly she was loved, too early lost ; And oh ! such loss ! My Mary, thou art like her ; Thy full, round form, thy soft, warm cheek, Thy small, sweet mouth, which oftentimes doth press Upon thy grand sire s lips A\ r rinkled and old and withered though they be, So soft and warm a kiss Even now My darling child ! Thy blind old grandfather could almost think That time had wandered backward fifty years, 106 ROSES AND MYRTLES. To those brief, happy days, when she was here, When her soft arms were round my neck, and thus She lavished tender kisses. This summer eve brings back to me the days, When she and I were young, and when we were, As you and Gerald are. I loved her. To be near her, and to look Upon her soft, fair cheek and calm, clear brow, To watch the drooping lids, the dawning smile, To meet the open brightness of her glance, To see the dimples dancing on her face, Which seemed the very dwelling-place of all Of beautiful and good that earth contains, To listen to the happy, laughing voice, The merry jest, the soft caressing words ; This made my happiness. Sincere and valued ; yet I longed for more ; I longed to touch that cheek or kiss that brow ; I longed to sit beside her, and to tell THE BLIND GRANDFATHER. 107 How all my heart was wrapped up in the love, Which dwelt in me for her. I longed for more. And so my heart lived for her ; when I worked, Or thought, or wished, or hoped, twas all for her ; To fit for her approval all my powers ; To make myself more nearly fit to stand Beside her as an equal. So I lived, And loved her, and she frankly, sweetly, still Looked on me, smiled on me, and freely talked, As to a cherished brother. In her heart ~No hidden love for me held traitorous sway, To pale her cheek, or send the tell-tale blush, In sudden crimson o er the brow and neck, Calmly she met my. look, and her dear voice Never awakened hope in my fond heart, By timid faltering or by causeless check. In accents firm and clear she spoke her thoughts, Words grave or playful, as her mood might stand, 108 ROSES AND MYRTLES. And so unconscious seemed she of my love, So frank, so friendly and so pure in heart, That on my lips as close a seal was placed, As if my longing thoughts had been forbidden. By neither word nor token could I dare To show the warmth and passion of my heart. Surely she loved me not, it could not be, That she could keep all sign of tender thoughts So closely hidden from my eager watch. Thus my heart whispered, and I held my peace. But ah ! one blessed, blissful eve A summer evening, still and soft and warm, Our walk had brought us to the rocky beach, And sitting there she looked upon the sea. She watched the white sails slowly moving on, The sunbeams sparkling in the briny foam ; She looked upon the sea. I looked on her. But when the sun had set, the waves grown dark, And now she rose to go, she met my look. She trembled, sighed and blushed MARRIAGE BELLS. 109 Hark ! Mary, love ! There s Gerald at the gate. Aye, sweet, my child, Roll back the garden-chair. I ll dream. I ll dream. Go walk with Gerald by the river-side. MARRIAGE BELLS. OH ! Hearken how they ring ! The merry marriage bells. Oh ! Hear the maidens sing And listen to the bells. There s the voice of a sigh in the tone of each bell ; The voice of a sigh and the toll of a knell. 110 ROSES AND MYRTLES. They tell a wondrous tale, Those merry marriage bells ; We lift the bridal veil, And listen to the bells. There s the voice of a sigh in the tone of each bell ; The voice of a sigh and the toll of a knell. They till our hearts with fears, Those merry marriage bells ; With sighs and falling tears, We listen to the bells. There s the voice of a sigh in the tone of each bell ; The voice of a sigh and the toll of a knell. A DREAM. HI A DREAM. I DREAMED a dream the other night, A dream of love and beauty bright ; And ever when the dreams alight, That vision brings me new delight, I dreamed a dream of evening breeze, Of dewy grass and leafy trees, Of twilight hum of busy bees, Of flowers that vie to win and please. I dreamed of lovers in their pride, Together at the eventide ; A happy husband with his bride, In love and honor well-allied. Those lovers under sunset sky, Mingling together sigh with sigh, 112 ROSES AND MYRTLES. While evening shadows hover nigh, Those lovers, love, were you and I. And must the blessed vision be Only a dream for you and me ? Or, w r aking, may I hope to see My dream become reality? MIRTH AND WINE. WHILE mirth and wine go round,, Let Pleasure rule the hour ; Let songs and smiles abound, To gladden Pleasure s bower. While mirth and wine go round. Let Pleasure be our guest ; WONDROUS WITCHING. Let merriment resound, Obeying her behest. While mirth and wine go round, Away with Prudence grave ; Let every heart be found Gay Pleasure s eager slave. WOKDKOUS WITCHING. O WONDKOIJS witching of a thrilling voice ! Whose magic mystery of subtle power, Entranced my spirit in a fatal hour, And made my heart in ecstacy rejoice. O voice of music tuned on heavenly strings, Echo of angel voices in its tone, Of all on earth that tuneful voice alone Seemed qualified to breathe love s murmurings. 114 ROSES AND MYRTLES. O pleasant voice, whose potent, secret spell, And syren music with tempestuous sweep, Troubled the waters of the tranquil deep And stirred the heart with wild, tumultuous swell. O voice attuned to love, but not for me, Whose welcome, sweet familiar baleful sound Melodious enchantment held me bound, Till, in despair, I rallied strength to flee. O voice long lost, long banished from my ear, A plaintive memory of a well-known strain, Whose mellow tones once wrought my bitter pain, The voice which thrilled my soul I dare not hear. SPRING-TIME IS COMING. H5 SPKING-TIME IS COMING. SPRING-TIME is coming Hear the wind blow ; See the sun sparkle ; See the grass grow ! Spring-time is coming Hear the streams flow ; Hear the hens cackle ; Hear the cocks crow. Spring-time is coming, Feel its warm glow ; See the bright showers ; Hear the wind blow. Spring-time is coming Look where you will ; See the young lambkins Frisk on the hill ; 116 ROSES AND MYRTLES. See the blue blossoms Lovely and still, Hidden away near The clear little rill. Hear the wood robin Hear his gay trill ; Spring-time is coming, Feel its glad thrill ! LITTLE WHITE VIOLET. LITTLE white violet, wild wood flower, Your home is a cool, secluded bower. The queen of fairies honors you, Above your sisters robed in blue, With dainty blossoms, pure and sweet, Whose perfume is a fairy treat. LITTLE WHITE VIOLET. H7 The leafy nook in which you grow, Unsullied as the flakes of snow, Is watered by the purest dew, And never dry, the summer through ; And always, on the moonlit eves, A dance is held upon the leaves ; Each little blossom quits her bed, And trips it till the moon has fled, But when the day begins to peep Each pretty rogue is sound asleep ; Then, when the sun begins to rise You open all your timid eyes, And, meekly hidden, outward gaze To greet his early morning rays. Little white violet, wild wood flower, So calm you look in your leafy bower, So placid in the dewy shade, Deep in the most retired glade, 118 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Who would suppose that all the night You d dance with silver moonbeams bright ? Oh ! you re a lovely, wild wood pet, You little, sweet white violet. HEART-PAIN. HEAKT-PAIN ! Have you felt it ? Ye scoffers and scorners, Have you felt its dread weight on the heart, Never lightened a moment by cares or by pleasures, And marking its victim apart ? Apart from his comrades in youth and its gladness, Apart in life s busiest years ; In age still a victim of anguish and sadness, Poor heart, overburdened with tears. TO ANNA. 119 TO ANNA. WHAT need I costly works of art, By sculptors wrought with tedious care ? While, throned upon my Anna s heart, Her bosom mocks their marvels rare ? What need I diamonds sparkling bright, With richest ray of famed Golconde, While Anna s eyes with dazzling light, Beam far those flashing gems beyond. What needeth she for gauds to sue ? The artist Monarch of the day Paints, fond, his fairest, purest hue Of beauty, for her cheeks display. Why need I seek the perfumed bowers, Where conscious art defects would hide ? 120 ROSES AND MYRTLES. My Anna s breatli outsweetens flowers, That blossom on the meadow side. My Anna, fairest, loveliest, best, Folded within thy matchless arms, I find upon thy glowing breast, A talisman gainst all that harms. ASK ME NOT. ASK me not why I borrow Inspiration from grief ; I have said that my sorrow Finds in song a relief. Let the heart that is broken Strive to laugh and be gay; Still of anguish some token Will it ever betray. POETS. 121 For a smile beams but sadly From the tear-burdened eye ; And a laugh ringing gladly Dies away in a sigh. Marvel not that I borrow Inspiration from grief ; For my heart, in its sorrow, Finds in song a relief. POETS. POETS know a living joy, A laughing exultation ; Happiness without alloy, Marvellous sensation. Poets see with wondrous light Lent to earth from Heaven ; 122 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Poets wield a heavenly might, From God to mortals given. Poets live a life more near The angel and immortal, Than aught else on this mundane sphere ; Nearer the golden portal. They live above All earthly love, Earth s sorrows touch them lightly ; They sing sweet lays, The live-long days, And dream of heaven nightly. Let me rejoice, With gladdest voice, That in my soul were planted The seeds of bliss, So great as this, Which Heaven to me hath granted. SONG. FLY, MAIDEN! 123 SONG. FLY, MAIDEN! FLY ! Maiden ! % ! Too late, for Love hath found thee. Sigh ! Lover ! sigh ! Love in his toils hath wound thee. Fly, maiden, fly ! The snares of Love surround thee. Sigh, lover, sigh ! Love in his chains hath bound thee. Fly, maiden, fly ! A favored moment taking. Sigh, lover, sigh ! Thy heart is doomed to breaking. 124 ROSES AND MYRTLES. SHE LOVES ME NOT. SHE loves me not. She heedeth not my sigh, My looks of love meet her averted eye ; My fond request she quickly doth deny, She loves me not. Thus bitterly you cry. Oh ! Make not moan with such a bitter cry Love s signal flames in her averted eye, With eager sense she hears and heeds your sigh, But will in self-defense your wish deny. Then take the cautious maiden by surprise ; Detect the traitor lurking in her eyes ; Demand her secret ; tax her with her sighs, And blushing, trembling, in your arms she lies. NOTHING AND NOBODY. 125 NOTHING AND NOBODY. NOTHING and nobody ! Sorrowful lot ! Hidden away in poverty s cot In sorrow and evil a child was got ; For joy and honor and love are not In nothing and nobody s pitiful cot. Nothing and nobody s penniless child, By squalor and famine and vice defiled, Away from the grimy depths beguiled By a pitying angel of good, who smiled On nothing and nobody s wondering child ; Nothing and nobody, offspring of woe, Lovingly beckoned the way to go Away from his misery, loathsome and low, Away from his ignorance, direst foe Of nothing and nobody, heir of woe ; 126 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Then sheltered, protected, cultured, and fed, Taught of wisdom and virtue, and tenderly led In those practical pathways of knowledge to tread, Round which the bright glory of fortune is spread, And pressing, right manfully, on to the head ; Now, founder of charities, noble and grand. Patron of industries, lord in the land, Judge o er his fellow-men, keeping his stand, By wisdom of heart and by firmness of hand, See nothing and nobody, lord in the land. MERRY CHRISTMAS MORNING. WITH busy note of warning, The clock, on Christmas morning, Strikes one two three Young voices full of glee Shout " Merry Christmas morning." THE BRIDAL EVE. 127 Awakened by the chorus Of voices ringing o er us, With quick, glad cry, We eagerly reply, " A Merry Christmas morning." Rejoicing at the warning, We hail the Christmas morning ; With deep, glad joy The early hours employ, To welcome Christinas morning. THE BRIDAL EYE. EYES that ask for no concealing, Frankly on each other dwell ; Freely in that gaze revealing Greater love than words can tell ; 128 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Love which, with its ardent flushing, Glowing through the tender frame, Kindles maiden cheeks to blushing ; Blushes without tinge of shame. Fitting seal of pure caressing Manhood gives, in loving pride, Fervently a kiss impressing On the fresh lips of his bride. Then to Heaven s watchful keeping. Man his cherished one doth leave, And the maiden, sweetly sleeping, Dreams away the bridal eve. MILDRED. 129 MILDBED. WHEN I sought my Mildred, In the beech-wood grove ; All my heart s devotion To declare I strove. Lost in sighs, the story, Only half was told, When my love I ventured In my arms to fold, Pleading softly, Mildred, Blessing of my life, Be my own, my treasure, Be my precious wife. 9 130 KOSES AND MYRTLES. Well I knew she loved me, Though no word she spoke, On the silence blissful Not a whisper broke ; Though her eyes were downcast, And, with dainty lid Like a cherry blossom All their sweetness hid ; For she nestled toward me Like a snowy dove, "With the gentle love-trick Taught of trustful love, And her sweet mouth trembled Like a leaf in May, Which the soft, warm breezes Kiss and coax all day. DISTANT MUSIC. 131 Mildred, lovely Mildred Blessing of my life ! Now my own, my darling, Now my cherished wife. DISTANT MUSIC. DISTANT music greets the ear ; What cheer ? Good cheer ! Listen, brothers ! Hark, we hear It near, more near ! What imports the glad refrain ? Again ! Again ! Victor notes of lofty strain ! Tis plain, tis plain. 132 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Yes ! the race so long begun Is done, well done, They who faithfully have run Have won, well won. Onward press we to the prize ! Arise ! Arise ! Past the portal of the skies, There lies the prize. i Distant music greets the ear With cheer ; good cheer, Listen, brothers, now we hear It near, more near. What imports the glad refrain ? Again ! Again ! Victors boast, in joyful strain, Of gain, great gain. WOE. 133 WOE. WOE sounds the angel s trump, And at the dread alarm, The devils flee in rout, The dead in Christ rise up And raise their mighty shout, And at the joyful sound The elders cast their crowns Before the great white throne, And raise the victor s song ; Glory to God alone ! THE LOST BIED. EMPTY and lone the bird-cage swings ; Our little feathered pet And his delightsome carol ings We shall not soon forget. 134 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Early and late, from morn till night, The skillful songster trilled His varied notes, and fresh delight The fleeting moments filled. Wearied and sad though I might feel, His lively, ringing voice My pensiveness away would steal, My weary heart rejoice. Of tuneful song and plumage gay, To please the eye and ear ; More precious to me day by day And every hour more dear. The fact was settled in my mind, As fixed as fact could be, In all the world one could not find So fine a bird as he. THE LOST BIRD. 135 Oft said I, when for liberty My birdie seemed to plead, Keared ever in captivity, Freedom he cannot need. Within the limits of a cage This songster saw the light, Content with such an heritage He never longs for flight. Flitting on restless, fluttering wings, From perch to perch again, To him a state of bondage brings No weariness or pain. Although within a narrow bound A prisoner he must be, A willing prisoner still is found One who was never free. 136 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Delusive hope, robbed of its sting, Dread slavery to see ; Know ye that every living thing Still pineth to be free. Absent from home, a trifling space I left my valued bird ; Returned to my accustomed place, A sad account I heard. My bird had flown, gone far away, From tenderness and care ; I sought him vainly, day by day, A long time, every where ; Long after his too fragile form Had met untimely death, And in some heavy, drowning storm, Had lost its little breath. A CONCEIT. 137 While safely in a cage confined, For liberty he sighed, For liberty the captive pined, At liberty, he died. A CONCEIT. I HAVE often observed, with no little surprise, That no wife loves her husband so well as her boys, And I fancy that herein the mystery lies, That, although he s the partner and source of her joys, Her sons are her own from the first breath they draw, While he s ever the son of her mother-in-law. 138 ROSES AND MYRTLES. FOKTY TIMES. FOKTY times twixt morn and night, Comes a little cherub bright, A very Cupid to the sight, And with arms around me clasped, Hugging tight With all his might, Pressing kisses on my lips, Murmurs soft and low and sweet, "We do love each other ; don t we ? Mimic angel ! golden head ! Words are all too cold and dead ! Whither has the word-god fled ? He must coin me something new, Fitting epithet for you ; But until we something find Better suited to our mind, ON RECEIVING A NOSEGAY. 139 We must still the old words use, New life into them diffuse. Come then, cherub, clasp and kiss me ; We do love each other ; don t we ? ON RECEIYING A NOSEGAY FROM MY LADY-LOYE. A NOSEGAY of sweets from my lady fair ; Soft colors and bright, and odors rare, With forms of fairy gayety ; Such is my lady s gift to me. A message of love from my lady dear ; Love tender and strong and drawing near, But veiled with maiden modesty ; Such is my lady s gift to me. 140 ROSES AND MYRTLES. A garland of joy from my lady fair ; A cluster of graces blooming there, The crown of sweet virginity ; Such is my lady s love to me. A KIDDLE. ON the dashing waterfall I dance ; Through a crevice in the wall I glance. Mountain peaks of sombre shade I gild ; And the valleys by my aid Are tilled. A RIDDLE. In among the meadow grass I creep ; Oft within a looking glass I peep. Many pictures, rich and rare, And quaint. Forms of beauty, glowing fair, I paint. * Blooming summer s wreath of flowers I weave ; Ripened fruits for harvest hours I leave. Joy to all who see my face, I give ; Waking life in every place, Hive. 142 ROSES AND MYRTLES. All my bounties I impart With zest ; But to shine within a heart Is best. BERTIE. O BABY BEKTIE, summer-faced, Happy the household you have graced, These eighteen months, with infant wiles, With tricksy pranks and sunny smiles. You cunning little cherub wight ! With roguish eyes so blue and bright, Always looking for a frolic, You jolly, bouncing little rollick ! BERTIE. Is papa wearied out and cross, Or moody at some business loss ? You pull his whiskers, pinch his nose, Till every gloomy shadow goes. Only to see you dance a jig, And get yourself in such a rig, Makes quiet mamma laugh and shout, To see you kick yourself about. You sometimes waken nurse s ire, By pitching slippers in the fire ; But then you laugh and coax and kiss, Till nurse declares there s naught amiss. Your infant wisdom, joyous laugh- But words will fail to tell the half ; You are a cherub angel sent To bless our household with content. 144 ROSES AND MYRTLES. When, half awake, and half asleep, You pray the Lord your soul to keep, And sink into your rosy rest, You re sweetest, then, and loveliest. Our hearts look up with every morn, Since you unto our love were born ; With such an angel for a guest, Our home is surely heaven-blest. WOO THE MUSE. Woo the Muse, with ardor woo ; Not lightly is she won ; She claims allegiance firm and true ; All others must you shun. SOLILOQUY. 145 Woo the Muse, with ardor woo, Not lightly is she won ; Your gifts and graces all are due, She claims them, every one. Woo the Muse, with ardor woo, Not lightly is she won ; With all your being must you sue, As pagan to the Sun. SOLILOQUY. I HEAR the falling rain-drops Patter on the window pane ; I can hear them striking sharply, But I cannot see the rain. 10 146 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Oh ! I long fo see as I used to see The silvery summer showers, Falling in welcome blessing Upon the thirsty flowers ; To see the golden sunbeams, Shining through the diamond drops, And the heavenly bow of promise, Resting on the mountain tops. When the sun rides high in glory I still wander on in gloom ; And the sounds of earth come strangely To me in my living tomb. At the day-dawn drear I long to see The earth, all fresh and fair, Looking, in blooming beauty, Up through the tranquil air, To greet her glorious bridegroom, When he cometh from the east, SOLILOQUY. 147 A giant rejoicing to run his course, To their merry marriage-feast. I grope my way in darkness, To the fields of velvet grass ; And the gentle, perfumed breezes Kiss me softly, as they pass. I hear the lambkins bleating, As they skip about all day ; I hear the rippling streamlet, Gliding swiftly on its way, And I know the wild flowers near it Blossom brightly, fair and gay. All the wealth of Nature s beauty Is a treasure hid from me, And I cry out in the darkness, Blessed are the eyes which see. 148 ROSES AND MYRTLES. SONG. OH! LOOK INTO MY HEAKT, LOYE. OH ! look into my heart, love ; Look deep, I do not fear ; The sacred inmost of my heart Is pure and true and clear. Look freely ; for my heart, love, Has only room for thee ; No rival, lurking, hidden, Usurps thy right in me. PASSING STRANGE. 149 PASSING STKANGE. OH ! passing strange to be a wife ! In bands of love, in bonds for life Oh ! passing sweet to be a wife ! To live for love, to love for life. Oh ! Honey sweet the name of wife ! A name of love, of love for life. To live in love, be loved through life, Ah ! this it is to be a wife. WILLIE. THE morn was bright, And my heart was light, When Willie embarked on the treacherous sea ; The sky was clear, And I felt no fear, For soon my brave Willie would come back to me. 150 ROSES AND MYRTLES. In a rose-covered bower, I dreamed of the hour When Willie returning would stand by my side, In his beauty and strength, To receive at length The heart and the hand of a loving bride. The time flew by, And I learned to sigh At the boisterous gale and the dashing wave ; With my heart like lead, Through unspoken dread That my Willie would lie in an ocean grave. Long years have passed, And I know at last, That Willie can never return to my love ; And I know as well, That we both shall dwell In undying life in the world above. . CUPID AS A FORTUNE-TELLER. 151 And my heart is blest, When in sleep I rest, With dreams of a blissful life on high ; And I wake to feel, When in prayer I kneel, That for sorrowing hearts it is joy to die. CUPID AS A FORTUNE-TELLER PROFESSING, in the book of fate to read, Love turns the leaves ; Thus simple mortals slyly to mislead, The rogue deceives. Conning, with aspect innocent and sage, The lines, he seeks ; Feigning it ordered on the trusted page, False counsel speaks, 152 ROSES AND MYRTLES. While foolish mortals, like a swarm of bees, Buzz round the boy, Who, like the Delphic oracle decrees, Their ill or joy. With honeyed accents, he the witless fools Leads far astray ; Then, while their wild, delusive ardor cools, Mocks their dismay. SUMMER HOURS. BORNE on the odorous breeze, And garlanded with flowers, Come, gayly smiling, to our love The ecstatic summer hours. SUMMER HOURS. 153 We welcome them with song, With joy we hail them ours ; And revel in the full delight, The entrancing summer hours. With rippling songs of birds, Warbled in viney bowers, Echo the music of our souls, Ye witching summer hours. Exhale your fragrant breath, Your blooming wealth fling wide, Swift-flying daughters of the fair And glowing summer-tide. Eleet through the ambient sweets, Bathe in ambrosial dew, Then, slumbering, veiled in dreamy night, Your morning pride renew. 154 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Short-lived your radiant bloom, Soon sped your transient day ! Could we but stay your circling flight, Bright hours that waft away. THE FIKE-FLY. FLASHING, flashing, hither, thither, Fire-fly, wherefore, whence and whither ? Lightning flashing, beauty sparkling, O er the meadow, in the darkling ; Through the coppice, in the hedges, O er the misty, goblin sedges. What, O fire-fly, wings your fleetness ? Does the floweret s honeyed sweetness Tempt you in her cup to vanish ? Gloomy shadows hence you banish, Flitting, flitting ; Oh ! to hold you, In my clasping hand to fold you ! THE FIRE-FLY. 155 Ha ! the antic star I ve captured, Gem which held my gaze enraptured, Gently at my booty peeping, Lo ! a dingy insect creeping ; Not more dull the sober quaker, Or the rigid, sombre shaker ; While I marvel, while I ponder, Swift as winged lightning yonder, Forth afar the starlet flashes, O er the marshy, meadow plashes. Ah ! tis love that guides your wheelings, Round about the lowland shielings, Through the dusky night shades fleeting ; There with glowing love-mates meeting, Sipping dew-drops, nipping tansy, Settling on the velvet pansy, Fitful fire-flies lovelights shimmer, Till the dawn from Orient glimmer. 156 ROSES AND MYRTLES. TO EYA, ON HEARING OF HER BETROTHAL. WHEN hearts and hands are plighted, And life is glad and bright, Then hearts by love united Dwell in a realm of light ; Life may have care it may have sorrow, May have for them a share ; They love to-day they ll love to-morrow ; Love is their only care. Love is not in our power ; Love comes to us from God. He, in His chosen hour, May use it as a rod. TO EVA, ON HER BETROTHAL, 157 Let all who love in gladness Give God the praise that s due ; Some hearts are filled with sadness By love both fond and true. But, Eva, hearts united Have only room for joy ; And love, by love requited, Is bliss without alloy. United love be ever Your Heaven-appointed lot ; A love which liveth ever, Which grows, and dieth not. 158 ROSES AND MYRTLES. DANCING. NOT a poem on dancing ! That time-keeping prancing, Marked with ogling and teazing, And underhand squeezing, With much billing and cooing, And some serious wooing : Why, my dear Mr. Poet, Tis divine ; don t you know it ? ALONG THE KIVER. ALONG the river, The quiet river, There floats a free, wild song ; The mountain echoes, The phantom echoes, Catch the song, as it floats along. ALOXG THE RIVER. 159 From whence the music, The virgin music, The merry, free, wild song ? Where lurk the echoes, The mimic echoes, For the song, as it floats along ? From glen and mountain, The wooded mountain, Blithe soars the free, wild song ; The river breezes, The light-winged breezes, Chase the song as it floats along A dark-haired maiden, A bright-eyed maiden, Is singing the free wild song ; The clear notes rally The herd from valley And hill, as it floats along. 160 ROSES AND MYRTLES. LIFE AND LOYE. An ! Life and love and hope ! All ! Hope, thou life of love ! Ah ! Love, thou hope of life, Dearer than life above. Oh ! Life and love and joy ! Oh ! Love, thou joy of life ! Oh ! Life ! thou joy of love, With myriad blisses rife ! MY HEART IS ALL ONE DREAM OF LOVE. 161 SONG. MY HEAKT IS ALL ONE DKEAM OF LOVE. MY heart is all one dream of love, A dream of love for thee ; Dispel the vision of my heart, And what is left for me ? My life is all a dream of love, Love glorifying thee ; Destroy the idol of my dream, And death is left with me. 11 162 ROSES AND MYRTLES. THE DESPAIRING. WILD, in the gloaming, Aimlessly roaming, Sunk in despair, Brokenly drooping, Fell demons swooping, Round on her glare. How doth she languish, Wasted with anguish, Once she was fair. Woefully groaning, Dismally moaning, Now sinks she there, THE DESPAIRING. 163 With voice in its sadness Breathing of madness, No tear nor prayer. Prone in her sorrow, Whence can she borrow Hope for the morrow, Help from despair ? Lo, to her vision An apparition, From worlds Elysian, Floats through the air. Greatly she feareth, When it appeareth, But a voice cheereth With message rare ; ROSES AND MYRTLES. Here to thee, failing, Sinking and wailing, Doubting and quailing, I bring repair, From realms of gladness, Where is no sadness Nor dreary madness, In upper air. Hence in thy sorrow, Hope thou may st borrow, Life for the morrow, Help from despair. Then on her sadness, Moaning and madness, Steals a strange gladness, Wondrous and rare. RESIGNATION. 165 Now her brow lightens, How her look brightens, JSTow she is fair. KESIGNATICXNT. WHEN sudden, deadly blight Was sent from God, And o er my heart s delight Was laid the sod, Then with a fearful might I felt the rod. When o er my heart s delight Was laid the sod, And all that made life bright Was claimed by God, Grace taught my heart aright To kiss the rod. 166 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Now o er my heart s delight Grows green the sod ; When, through life s dreary night My path I ve trod, I ll find my heart s delight In life with God. CEADLE SONG. SLEEP, baby, sleep ; Rocked in mother s arms, My own baby, sleep ; Mother s arms are strong. Sleep, baby, sleep ; Sleep, sleep. CRADLE SONG. 167 Sleep, baby, sleep ; Mother is wide awake, My own baby, sleep ; Mother s heart keeps guard. Sleep, baby, sleep ; Sleep, sleep. Sleep, baby, sleep ; Cradled soft and warm, My own baby, sleep ; Pillowed on my heart, Sleep, baby, sleep ; Sleep, sleep. Sleep, baby, sleep ; Father s darling pride, My own baby, sleep ; Cradled by my side, Sleep, baby, sleep ; Sleep, sleep. 168 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Sleep, baby, sleep ; Father s pretty boy, My own baby, sleep ; Mother s darling joy, Sleep, baby, sleep ; Sleep, sleep. MY CHILDREN. READING FROM ONE BOOK. HEADING from one book, How beautiful they look, Robbie and little Jess ; Black eyes and raven hair, Blue eyes and sunny tress ; Whose children are so fair \ THE ROSE. 169 Kobin is fond of books And strong and brave and true ; But, sure, an infant angel looks From Jessie s eyes of blue. THE EOSE. I AM a rose in beauty beaming ; Eden sweets in my bosom teeming, "While maiden blushes, warm and deep, My tender bloom in crimson steep. Oh ! I am love s true passion-flower, The breath of the Indies my bridal dower ; No stately beauty, cold as bright ; In expending my sweetness I take delight. 170 HOSES AND MYKTLES. I bathe in the dew of life s early morn, Until in the glory of love new-born. My bosom kindles in flames of bliss Beneath my bridegroom s burning kiss. But love so ardent consumes my life ; A little time shall I bloom a wife, Then resign my beauty and sweet perfume, To the mouldering dust of the silent tomb. But welcome the tomb in that early hour, While still my beloved delights in my bower ; Far better the silence of death s cold night, Than a lover grown weary of love s delight. ART THOU HAPPY, LACKING ME? AET THOU HAPPY, LACKING ME? ART thou happy, lacking me ? Art thou happy ? Can it be, Thou art happy, lacking me ? Thou art happy without me ; Thou art happy ; then to be Sure thou art, suffices me. But the marvel unto me Is that thou canst happy be, Truly happy, lacking me. For the truth is known to me, I am nothing without thee ; Thou art every thing to me. 172 KOSES AND MYRTLES. But if happy thou canst be, Truly happy, without me, Then thy joy my bliss shall be. But if, hidden in thy heart, Loneliness and pain have part, Turn to me, thou lonely heart. If, contending in thy life, Longings vague hold secret strife, Blend with mine thy troubled life. So shall loneliness and strife Vanish from our perfect life ; Stilled the longings, ceased the strife, PHEBE. 173 PHEBE. WHEREFORE does Phehe never bring Her sewing or her book And at the window sit, nor sing, Nor up the highway look ? Because, so often, every day, Her neighbor, Willie Brown, Is wont to pass along that way, In going to the town. This Willie once loved Phebe well, But through a sad mistake, She lost his love ; tis sad to tell, Her heart did well-nigh break. 174 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Yet while she drank the bitter cup, She could but feel with shame, Willie did well to give me up, For I was much to blame. Phebe loved Will with all her heart, And thought his love to win ; She now must learn another part ; To love him would be sin. For Willie has been wedded long, Forgetful of the past ; And Phebe s cup of bitterness Is brimming full at last. Poor Phebe has a brave, true heart, A pure, good woman s will ; Right nobly she will do her part, And bid her love be still. PHEBE. 175 She wishes love without alloy, To Willie and his wife ; She would not take a single joy, Or blessing from their life. But when his well-known voice she hears, Or him afar discerns, Her spirit sinks, oppressed with fears, Her heart within her burns. The old love glows within her breast, The old love dims her eyes ; And fills her with a sad unrest, And wakens frequent sighs. Therefore does Phebe never bring Her sewing or her book And at the window sit, nor sing, Nor up the highway look. 176 ROSES AND MYKTLES. PKESCKIPTION. " SUCH strange, mysterious, saddening of soul," My best advice, dear Madam, take a stroll Down yon gay avenue, twill free your mind From all mysterious dread of human kind. LINES IN AN ALBUM. YERSES to Ella thus my Muse I prayed Worthy of Ella, lift thy pinions high : But to my grief the coy and modest maid Quailed at the lofty flight and would not try. LILIES OF THE VALLEY. 177 LILIES OF THE VALLEY. OH ! Lay me down upon a lily bed. The boundless heaven arching overhead ; There let me lie and dream my life away, Nor see the night-fall darken this fair day. While sweetest perfumes captivate the sense, While genial sunbeams vital warmth dispense, Let soothing languor on my being steal, And in the sleep of death mine eyelids seal. My life is young and happy and serene ; Bowed down by grief and anguish I have seen The good and gentle, and I fain would flee Away, before such grief o ershadow me. 12 178 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Then lay me down with lilies, in their bed, With lofty azure curtain overhead ; There let me lie and dream my life away ; Sorrow may darken round the closing day. BABY. CALMLY, sweetly sleeping, Baby, whom we love ; Gentle angels keeping AVatch o er him above. Stilly, coldly sleeping, Heedless of our love ; Angels, in their keeping Holding him above. AGUE S PRAYER. 179 No, he is not sleeping Angel of our love ; Baby now is keeping Watch for us above. AGUE S PRAYER. NEITHER POVERTY NOR RICHES. THAT man alone is truly good and wise, And happy in this world, that man alone, Who the desire of Agur makes his own ; Who to the God of Israel lifts his eyes, And from his inmost soul devoutly cries ; Two things have I required, O Lord ; deny Them not to me, I pray, before I die ; 180 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Remove far from me vanity and lies, O give me neither poverty nor wealth, Lest, in my riches, I my God despise, The source whence all my benefits arise, Or, in my hungry need, I take by stealth, That which is not mine own, or in my pain, I sin, and take the name of God in vain. He whose desires are bounded by this prayer, May tread life s thorny paths devoid of care ; Cull flowers and fruits amid the thorns and briers, And taste fulfillment of his fond desires ; May find his wants all tenderly supplied, And every eager craving satisfied. DOOM. 181 DOOM. FAIR heaven, bright beaming over slumbering meads, Star-spangled, star-illumined, radiant space, Whose glory to heaven s full effulgence leads ! Stars light earth s heaven-claimed spirits to heaven s grace. With contrariety of woeful fate. Earth holds her tenants from the happy flight ; With beckoning love the pitying angels wait, While spirits earth-bound wrestle with her might. While light celestial beams from blissful skies, Blind spirits, stumbling, fall where wiles sur round ; 182 ROSES AND MYRTLES. No radiance heavenly greets their clouded eyes ; Strayed spirits, wandering wild, in chaos drowned. While brooding peace, dove-like, outspreads her wings, Sad spirits, wailing, keep a vigil dread ; No soothing balm their anguish respite brings ; Crushed spirits, mourning over fond hopes dead. While steadfast souls breast, tranquil, each rough wave, Tossed spirits, helpless, sink in doubt s foul tide; No anchor serves their hopes from wreck to save; Lost spirits, hopeless, whelmed, while fiends deride. LINES TO , WITH A ROSE. 183 Kind heavens, wail a dirge, let angels weep Frail spirits, tempted by sin s dizzying whirl ; Absorbed, destroyed, drawn to the lowest deep ; Dead spirits, buried in the Stygian swirl. LINES TO , WITH A KOSE. TAKE not, for emblem of my love to thee, The rose, though glowing, sweet and fair to see ; Eoses, the fairest, fade and fall away, But love, true love, glows pure and sweet for aye. 184: ROSES AND MYRTLES. TEIAL. A VISION. WITH peaceful thoughts, upon my bed I laid, at night, my weary head ; And ere in sleep my eyelids closed, My spirit thus on God reposed. Oh ! blessed, blessed, thus to lie. Content to live, content to die ; Confiding in my Father s love, And waiting for the world above. Come health, come sickness, weal or woe, Come high estate, or fortune low, Come life or death, God knoweth best, In my Father s keeping I safely rest. TRIAL. A VISION. 185 Then peacefully I fell asleep, In dreamless slumber, sound and deep, Till visions dire, before my eyes, Transfixed me with a wild surprise. Methought I stood at the gate of Hell ; That moment s anguish no words can tell ; I cried, " My Father, thy will be done ; Yet my soul had trusted in Christ thy Son ; Salvation from the doom of sin, Through Jesus blood I had hoped to win ; But I own the justice of thy decree, Hell has been well deserved by me." That awful dream had flitted by ; With a grateful soul, and a thankful sigh, I cried : " My Father, thy will be done ; Yet I hope for pardon through Christ thy Son." 186 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Then slowly over my spirit stole The blissful peace of a ransomed soul ; While one, in tones of boundless love, Addressed me from the realms above. " Thus have I proved thy love, my child ; Have proved it pure and undefiled ; And thus thy faith have I sorely tried, And found it strong and purified. Thy trembling soul would st thou offer up, Would st drain to the dregs the bitter cup, Would st go away mid the lost to dwell, And meekly endure the pains of hell. God s peace be upon thee, faithful one, The peace of the Father, the grace of the Son. And the gift of the Spirit remain upon thee, Henceforth and forever, eternally." MEDITATION. 187 MEDITATION. THE Moon, serenely Queen, from her full height, Bathing all nature in her silvery light, Seemeth to gladden at the pleasant view, While from the thirsty flowers, refreshing dew Calls forth a balmy breath of perfumed air, Night s fragrant offering to her queen so fair. So the reviving dew of Heavenly grace, Falling in blessing on our dying race, Quickens each spirit to a life divine, While o er our souls the Light of Heaven doth shine, And the sweet odors of our prayers which rise Are offered with much incense in the skies. 188 ROSES AND MYRTLES. LONGING. Is there, beyond this world of toil and sorrow, A glorious awaking, bright tomorrow ? Is there a life where sin has lost its power ; Where death, despoiled, resigns his evil dower ? Is there a home, where partings never sadden, Love looks grow cold, nor dark suspicions madden ? Is there a love immortal as the soul, Which deepens while eternal ages roll ? O Love divine ! O Life without a tear ! What shackles vile retain my spirit here ? Oh ! seek, my soul, that Kest, and thither fly ; Oh ! take, my spirit, wings and reach the sky. HYMN. LIFT UP MY EYES. 189 HYMN. LIFT UP MY EYES. LIFT up my eyes, dear Lord, Up to thy cross ! Let me no more behold Earth and its dross. Far, far above thy cross Lift up mine eyes, Up to thy glory, Lord, In Paradise. Up to thy worship, Lord, Lead thou my heart, That I in thy dear love May have a part. 190 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Take thou mj spirit, Lord, Into thy rest ; That I may be with thee, There fully blest. GOD OUK JUDGE. A RIGHTEOUS Judge have we, A patient God, and strong ; Oh ! whither shall we flee, Most miserable throng, Who tread the downward path, The broad and easy way, The fierceness of His wrath Provoking, day by day. GOD OUR JUDGE. 191 Before His awful throne An advocate must stand, "Who may for sin atone, And save our guilty band. The ransom has been paid For this our fallen race ; Atonement has been made, The work of heavenly grace. The Son of God was slain ; Slain on the cruel tree ; And through His death we gain A pardon full and free. If pardon we implore, In penitence and prayer, Our Judge will grant us more Than we to ask can dare. Yet we a choice must make, The strait and narrow way 192 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Must choose ; a cross must take, And hourly watch and pray. In His most gracious plan, God gives to all a choice ; To every soul of man He sends a warning voice. O harken to the voice, The voice of heavenly love ; To-day make thou thy choice, Choose thou the God above. The Spirit pleads with thee, In whispers soft and low ; O yield unto His plea, Nor dare to answer no. WISHING. 193 WISHING. I WISH, and yet I dare not wish For something that might be ; I wish, but all in vain my wish, It will not come to me. I wish, but always keep my wish Deep buried in my heart ; The hidden secret of that wish I will to none impart. I wish, O that I could not wish ! For wishing leaves a sting ; Oh ! who would think a simple wish A heart with grief could wring ? 13 194 ROSES AND MYRTLES. I wish I must not, will not wish ; God s child, there is no need That I should murmur in a wish, At what his love decreed. I wish I will not, do not wish ; I yield me to His care ; Hereafter let my every wish Be changed into a prayer. HYMN. ONLY TO PRAY, ONLY to pray ! Now to-day, And the voice of my cry, Wafted high, Shall attain to an ear, That will hear. HYMN. ONLY TO PRAY. 195 Only to pray ! No delay, Not a moment to wait, No debate In the answer of love, From above. Only to pray ! And my way Shall be clear as the sun : One may run In the path that shall be Marked for me. Only to pray ! Let me pray ; And relieved of my care, By my prayer, I may lift up my voice, And rejoice. 196 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Rejoice, O heart, once buried in despair ! Rejoice, glad heart, now free from all thy care ! Rejoice, my heart ! The Lord hath heard thy prayer. Sing praise, my heart ! Sing praise, lift up thy voice ! Sing praise, glad heart ! Sing praises and rejoice ! Sing praise, my heart ! The Lord hath heard thy voice. SUPPLICATION. HEAE me, O God, in this my trial hour ! Hear me and help . See me, thy child, thy child in Christening dower, Facing the hosts of sin which round me lower, Bending before the evil tempter s power, Hear me, and help ! SUPPLICATION. 197 Hear me, O God, in this my hour of night ! Hear me and guide My soul in deadly fight, Waging for truth and light ; Thy banner full in sight, Hear me and guide. Hear me, O God, in this my hour of woe ! Hear me and heed ! See how my soul lies low, Crushed by her cruel foe, Mark thou each bitter throe, Hear me and heed ! Hear me, O God, in this my hour of need ! Hear me and save ! See thou my poor heart bleed, Pierced by the vengeful deed Of envious serpent s seed ; Hear me and save ! 198 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Hear me, O God, in this my hour of grace ! Hear me and bless ! Let love and zeal keep pace, Till in thy holy place, I see thee face to face ; Hear me and bless ! HYMK OH ! hasten to the temple, Thither go up to pray ; Our God meets with His people, Upon His holy day. Our Jesus in the temple, Upon His holy day, Instructs all waiting Christians To love and praise and pray. HYMN. 199 Then hasten to the temple, Upon God s holy day ; While health and strength are given. Be never found away. HYMN. JESUS, our risen Savior, Now seated on thy throne, Thy sacrifice completed, Thou dost for sin atone. We cannot, oh ! we cannot Appeal to Thee in vain ; Thy death and passion pleading Our pardon we obtain. 200 ROSES AND MYRTLES. Though red your sips like scarlet, Or deepest crimson dje ; Though, open unto judgment, Your wickednesses cry ; They shall be like the snow-drift, New fallen, pure and bright, Or like the finest fleeces, Immaculately white. Thus saith a voice from Heaven ; Jesus, Redeemer, King ! From thee, O dear, dear Savior, Angels the message bring. Men know not, oh ! they know not, Ere they its grace have tried, What crimson tide of blessing Flows freely from thy side. TO 201 TO THY mother s love goes with thee, Across the mighty sea ; Heaven send that thou may st safely reach The port where thou would st be. Thy mother s thoughts are with thee, While thou art on the sea ; Her cheeks are pale with anxious fears Lest harm may come to thee. And oh ! when thou art landed safe, Beyond the stormy sea, Thy mother s faithful heart will still Present to Heaven the plea, 202 ROSES AND MYRTLES. That ever in that foreign land, Temptation thou may st flee ; That thou, young soldier of the cross, Loyal to Christ may st be ; That thou wilt ever choose the right, She fondly trusts in thee ; The knowledge of her confidence Thy monitor will be. TO SOME FKIEKDS WHO REQUESTED MY LIKENESS. A WISH expressed by loved ones to deny, Must ever grieve the heart and wake a sigh ; Beloved friends, my likeness you require, And 1 have sought to give what yon desire ; TO SOME FRIENDS. 203 I pray you, take instead thereof my heart. The Sun himself has not the magic art My pictured image on the card to paint ; The work to do he lately made a feint, And where my features should have found a place, He showed, in truth, engraved a form and face, Kigid, expressionless, with soulless gaze ; Clearly each line the shabby trick displays. Since vainly thus to please you I essay, Here will I give you, in another way, In words, wherein are mirrored mind and thought, The token of affection which you sought. 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