UCSB LIBRARY 
 
 00
 
 A COLLECTION 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 D. H. HOWARD. 
 
 BROCKTON, MASS., 
 1879.
 
 OFFICE OF WALTHAM FREE PRESS.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE collection of Poems here presented to the public, has 
 been made at the solicitation of friends. The author would 
 have been glad of the assistance of some better literary judg 
 ment than his own, in the selection or rejection of articles, 
 and for the correction of faults which may have escaped his 
 own partial eye. Having been unable to enjoy this advantage, 
 he feels that he has some right to claim the indulgence and 
 clemency of the critic. Although he has been encouraged to 
 think, from the commendation which many of these pieces 
 have heretofore received, that they have some merit and value, 
 he does not aspire after fame, nor seek to compete -with great 
 names. He will be satisfied, if he has succeeded in giving 
 some innocent enjoyment, and still better, instruction, to such 
 readers as his book may find, and in winning the approval of 
 those who love the truth.
 
 A BRIEF SKETCH 
 OF THE AUTHOR S LIFE. 
 
 THE Author was born in Mansfield, Bristol County, Mass., 
 in the year 1814. His early childhood was spent partly in 
 Norton and partly in Mansfield; but since his tenth year, he 
 has resided most of the time in North Bridgewater, (new 
 Brockton), Plymouth Courty, Mass., his father s native place. 
 He learned to read early, and was fond of rer.ding, but never 
 attended school before the age of eight years. Having 
 attracted some attention by his early taste for poetical compo 
 sition, he was assisted to nearly five years of gratuitous 
 education, by Mrs. Ann McLean, a benevolent lady of Boston : 
 first under the care of the late Jesse Pierce, of Stoughton : 
 next, two weeks at the Boston Latin School, further progress 
 being interrupted by illness; then three years at the Mount
 
 A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR S LIFE. 
 
 Pleasant Classical Institution, in Amherst, Mass. Here he 
 became acquainted with the Greek, Latin and French lan 
 guages, and a very little Spanish. To these he afterwards 
 added some knowledge of German, and still later, of Hebrew. 
 
 The year after leaving school, at the age of nineteen, he 
 entered the printing office of William Pierce, in Boston. 
 About six months after, he was engaged to work for George 
 W. Light, another well known printer and publisher in that 
 city, in whose employ he continued for several years. It was 
 during his residence here that he first met with the writings 
 of Swedenborg. His employer had taken the library of a 
 debtor as security for a bad debt; and among these books 
 were some of the writings of Swedenborg. Curiosity led the 
 author to examine them, in spite of the superstitious fear he 
 had been accustomed to entertain for them. Further reading, 
 with much studv and reflection, at length convinced him that 
 they contained a correct explanation of the doctrines of 
 Christianity. In the year 1839, the author left the printing 
 office, on account of weak eyes. He was afterwards employed 
 in the printing office of the Old Colony Reporter, published 
 by T. D. Stetson, in North Bridgewater; and of the North 
 Bridge water Gazette, published by George Phinney in the 
 same town. He also wrote occasionally for these two papers. 
 
 In 1845, tne author began to wriie for the New Jerusalem 
 Magazine, then published in Boston, and continued to do so 
 from year to year, till its suspension in 1872. He also contrib 
 uted articles to the New Church Children s Magazine, during
 
 A BIUEF SKETCH OF THE AUTHOIt S LIFE. 
 
 its publication in Boston. He has also been a regular con 
 tributor to the New Jerusalem Messenger, since its establish 
 ment in New York, in 1855. 
 
 For quite a number of years he has been too much of an 
 invalid to allow him to engage in any kind of business, and 
 has been for most of the time confined at home by ill health. 
 During this time, his only useful occupation has been the 
 .small amount of writing he was able to do, sometimes with 
 his own hand, and sometimes by dictation. Having never 
 been married, he has kept house with his sister since the death 
 of his father and mother.
 
 THE PARABLE OF LOVE. 
 
 A MARRIAGE POEM. 
 
 "The blossc 
 the conjutfial 
 conjoining to 
 it ripens like fr 
 Arcana Ccele.st 
 
 nnciple enters the mind, and grladde 
 
 > far it puts itself forth into works." Swedenborff 
 
 WOULDST thou understand the reason 
 Why Love s dear and blissful season, 
 Blooming with the sweetest flowers 
 Ever culled in earthly bowers. 
 With a more celestial glow 
 Sunned, than other seasons know, 
 Yields so soon to chilling frost, 
 All its bloom and beauty lost? 
 Why the holiest vow that s spoken 
 Is so oft, so rashly broken. 
 And the cords that ought to bind 
 Heart to heart and mind to mind
 
 10 THE PARABLE OF LOVE. 
 
 In the fondest union, prove 
 Chains of hate instead of love ? 
 Learn a parable set forth 
 In the blossoms of the earth, 
 In their beauty half revealing, 
 In their bosoms deep concealing, 
 Heavenly secrets for the eyes 
 Of the pure in heart and wise. 
 
 When the May-wind, softly breathing 
 Through the budding orchard trees, 
 
 Opens every nectared blossom 
 To the honey-loving bees; 
 
 When the balmv air is laden 
 All around with sweet perfume, 
 
 And the sun pours golden beauty 
 Over Nature s bridal bloom ; 
 
 Thou may st wish the vernal glorv 
 Always to enchant thine eyes, 
 
 Through the summer, fresh and fragrant, 
 Like the trees of Paradise. 
 
 Fool ! to dream of heaven s fruition 
 When its dawn is just begun! 
 
 Bread of Paradise is gathered 
 Not till earthlv work is done.
 
 THE PAUAIJLE OF LOVE. 11 
 
 Spring-time bloom is but the promise 
 
 Of a blessing jet to come ; 
 Weary summer toils await thee, 
 
 Ere thou bring the harvest home. 
 
 Soon a rougher gale will shatter 
 All the orchard s blooming show, 
 
 And the snowy petals scatter 
 Withered on the ground below. 
 
 But the wonder-work of Nature, 
 
 In the vernal bud begun, 
 Still goes on in secret chambers, 
 
 Cherished by the warming sun. 
 
 Quickly ope the spring-time blossoms : 
 Soon their beauty fades away. 
 
 Slowly, mid the green leaves hiding, 
 Very slowly, day by day, 
 
 Grows the fruit for Autumn s garners, 
 Gathering from each summer shower, 
 
 From each warm and ripening sunbeam, 
 Sweetness for the harvest hour. 
 
 And the toilsome farmer daily 
 
 Lends to Nature kindly aid ; 
 And with Autumn s fruitful treasure.*, 
 
 Finds his care is well repaid.
 
 12 THE PAKABLE OF LOVE. 
 
 Here behold, as in a mirror, 
 
 What the angel, Love, demands, 
 
 Ere thou find his golden fruitage 
 Ripened for thy Availing hands. 
 
 Life hath, like the year, its seasons : 
 Like a tree, man grows and bears 
 
 In youth s freshness, lovely blossoms; 
 Wisdom s fruit in manhood s years. 
 
 Marriage joy is spring-time blooming, 
 Full of promise, full of hope ; 
 
 Drink its wine of heavenly blessing, 
 But beware thou break the cup. 
 
 And forget not, in the dreaming 
 Of Love s joyous morning hour. 
 
 Why he crowns with purple blossoms 
 And fresh leaves youth s virgin bower: 
 
 Why he pours the golden sunshine 
 Into each dear blossom s heart, 
 
 Painting each unfolding petal, 
 Quickening every inmost part. 
 
 Not for beauty s sake is beauty; 
 
 Not to charm the wondering eye 
 With an idle show of splendor, 
 
 Soon to fade away and die;
 
 THE 1 ARABLE OF LOVE. 13 
 
 But a token and a promise 
 
 Of a blessing hid within 
 Good immortal, which the patient 
 
 And the wise shall find and win. 
 
 Soon the storms of life will shatter 
 Thy fond dreams of bliss and love, 
 
 And the painted blossoms scatter 
 Torn and withered from the grove. 
 
 But behind his leafy curtains, 
 When the bloom has passed away, 
 
 Love hides precious fruits to ripen, 
 Through the golden summer day. 
 
 Ye whom he hath called together, 
 Sealed your foreheads with his kiss, 
 
 Given to taste the heaven-rained manna 
 Of his morning hour of bliss, 
 
 lie hath put the sacred keeping 
 Of his treasures in your care; 
 
 Ye must labor in his vineyard, 
 If his blessings ye would share : 
 
 Lest the gales that strew the blossoms, 
 Rend the ripening fruit away; 
 
 Lest the canker worm and locust 
 Make it an untimely prey ;
 
 14 THE PARABLE OF LOVE. 
 
 Lest a treacherous moth find entrance, 
 
 And its tender heart devour; 
 Chilling frost or blasting mildew 
 
 Smite it in an evil hour. 
 
 Tremble lest the harvest morning 
 Prove you faithless to your trust; 
 
 All his purple clusters blasted, 
 All his wheat-sheaves black with rust. 
 
 Love walks hand in hand with duty. 
 
 Wisdom follows in his train. 
 Would st thou know his wondrous beauty? 
 
 His reward dost wish to gain? 
 
 Never let the present seeming 
 Cheat thy sense with gay deceit; 
 
 Let not summer s rosy pleasure, 
 Turn from duty s path thy feet. 
 
 Earth for careful toil yields blessings 
 To the willing hand and heart; 
 
 But the idle dreamer findeth 
 Only blossoms for his part. 
 
 Costly gifts ask patient waiting; 
 
 Golden harvests, weary toil ; 
 Only they who bravely conquer 
 
 In the battle, share the spoil.
 
 THE PAUAIJLE OF L.OVE. 15 
 
 Love has sown within your bosoms 
 Gardens rich with plants of joy; 
 
 In your hearts arise the tempests 
 That his vines and figs destroy. 
 
 As the shepherd wages warfare 
 
 With the wolves that tear his sheep, 
 
 As the farmer with a thousand 
 Foes that fly and foes that creep, 
 
 So shall ye give battle daily 
 
 To the fiends that mar and sever 
 
 Household peace and heartfelt union, 
 Binding soul to soul forever. 
 
 Angry strife and selfish passion, 
 Cankering envy, stubborn pride, 
 
 Fiercer beasts than wolves and tigers ; 
 How can love with these abide? 
 
 Drive the demons from your dwelling, 
 While your hands are strong to fight; 
 
 Banish from beneath your roof-tree 
 p]very hateful bird of night. 
 
 In their places let fond ring-doves 
 
 Under olive garlands play; 
 While gay linnets chirp sweet love-song; 
 
 To the dawning summer day.
 
 16 THE PARABLE OF LOVE. 
 
 Shall not else the heavenly angel 
 
 Sadly flee a\vav in haste, 
 From the heart he once had hallowed : 
 
 Leave it dark and cold and waste? 
 
 Nay, entreat him that he tarry. 
 
 Deem no guest so dear as he : 
 In the brightest sunrise chamber 
 
 Let his place of resting be. 
 
 Scatter India s choicest spices 
 Where he lays his golden head: 
 
 Let soft curtains hang in purple 
 Folds above his downy bed. 
 
 Wake him with the gladdest music 
 Of the summer morning grove; 
 
 Let no sweet caress be wanting 
 To the evening rest of Love. 
 
 Sharon s flocks and Bashan s failings 
 Furnish dainties for his meat; 
 
 Milk of kine and comb of honey; 
 Bread, the finest of thy wheat. 
 
 Wine of Lebanon for his drinking 
 Golden goblets shall afford; 
 
 Ripest fruits of every season 
 Heap upon the generous board.
 
 THE PAUAI5LK OF LOVE. 1.7 
 
 O, let not your hands be weary 
 With a single month of care, 
 
 For the heaven-descended seraph 
 Ye have bid jour home to share. 
 
 But with mirth and sweet discoursing, 
 Welcome and beguile his stay, 
 
 Through the summer s fervid glowing. 
 Through the storm v winter dav. 
 
 Youth is fleeting like the blossoms ; 
 
 Let not love with them depart ; 
 Through the toils and cares of manhood 
 
 Let him soothe and cheer thy heart. 
 
 Count no gift for him too costlv; 
 
 Count no toil for him too hard; 
 Tis but cheap to win his blessing, 
 
 Tis but light for his reward. 
 
 All his treasures will he give thee ; 
 
 With his jewels crown thy head; 
 Heavenly fruit for fading blossoms, 
 
 Angel s food for earthly bread. 
 
 Fresher roses at thv portal : 
 
 Fairer clusters on thy vine; 
 Ampler harvests for thanksgiving: 
 
 Richer oil and sweeter wine.
 
 18 THE PARABLE OF LOVE. 
 
 Brighter sunshine in thy dwelling; 
 
 Calmer peace within thy breast; 
 Joy, all joys of earth excelling; 
 
 Safeguard for thy midnight rest. 
 
 Youth immortal, fadeless beauty; 
 
 Wisdom s gateway opened wide; 
 No more asking light for duty, 
 
 Love himself thy light and guide. 
 
 VISIT TO MY OLD HOME. 
 
 AGAIN I sought when years had passed 
 Since I had left its portals last, 
 That home, so dear, of childhood s pleasures,- 
 Its woodland paths, its hills and streams, 
 Whose pebbles e en were fancied treasures, 
 Whose green fields, kingdoms, in its dreams. 
 
 Towards the loved home-scene eager steps 
 Through the green wood-path bore me on ; 
 No welcome hoping from kind lips, 
 If I should cross the threshold stone, 
 Since all who knew me there were gone ;
 
 VISIT TO 3IY OLD IIO3IK. 1!) 
 
 And, as my home, I might no more 
 Return within its ancient door. 
 
 The weather-beaten mansion stood 
 In its familiar aspect still; 
 But unknown faces looked abroad, 
 As up I came the grass-grown road, 
 And from the green encircling hill 
 Was hewn away its crest of wood. 
 Half-tilled, and rude and desolate, 
 The little garden round me lay. 
 And, all abandoned to their fate, 
 The rough stone walls were fallen away ; 
 Unpruned, the trees all wildly tossed 
 Their long decaying branches round, 
 And tall weeds their rank foliage crossed, 
 All o er the garden ground. 
 
 I passed along; yet not less dear 
 The friendly scene, nor loved I less 
 To gaze, and muse and wander there, 
 Though it had grown a wilderness. 
 
 T\vas Autumn. In an Autumn hour 
 I last had bid the scene adieu ; 
 But paler seemed each leaf and flower, 
 With the sere season s fading hue, 
 And more unsheltered each old bower, 
 Than to my childhood s view;
 
 20 VISIT TO MY OLD IIO3IK. 
 
 Smaller each rock and tree had grown 
 Narrower each valley I had known ; 
 And low and puny looked the wall, 
 So formidable once, and tall. 
 There stood the tree where I had graved 
 The frail memorial of my name, 
 Yet tottering, as though scarcely saved 
 From the last storm that o er it came. 
 With almost every line effaced 
 Of the rude carving I had traced. 
 There stood the orchard too, with green 
 And Autumn s yellow fruitage crowned ; 
 Yet traces of decay were seen 
 On every mossy trunk around; 
 And here and there a feebler one 
 Among their stately ranks was gone. 
 
 Embowered by leafy groves, there lay 
 Green path-worn hills, that circled wide 
 Our home, and reached the orchard side; 
 Those pleasant groves were hewn away 
 The hills were shorn of all their pride, 
 And boughs in dreary heaps were strewn 
 Where the sweet wild flowers once had grown 
 And open to the sunshine wide 
 The secrets of the shade were thrown. 
 
 There was no other change, save what
 
 VISIT TO MY OLD IIOMK. Jl 
 
 The tireless hand of Time had wrought, 
 
 A hand that never learned to spare, 
 
 However dear its victims are 
 
 That leaves no secret shrine unswept, 
 
 Which in the wildvvood we have kept 
 
 Sacred to childhood s memory. 
 
 Yes there was one more change : the soul 
 
 Of home was gone all that had made 
 
 The garden and the woodland shade 
 
 Beloved ; and that around the whole 
 
 Had thrown that spell we cannot break; 
 
 Which, to the child, doth ever make 
 
 A paradise of home a spot 
 
 For which his love is ne er forgot. 
 
 The kind looks and the pleasant smiles 
 
 That made perennial Summer there, 
 
 As tropic suns to Indian isles 
 
 The same warm glances ever bear 
 
 These threw their blessed radiance o er 
 
 The friendly scenes of home no more. 
 
 And, as the plumage of the bird 
 
 W T here in the glow of sunbeams play 
 
 A thousand gorgeous hues, doth fade 
 
 Soon as the beams are turned awav; 
 
 So when the smiles which once had thrown 
 
 Their happv sunshine there were gone, 
 
 One melancholy tinge came o er
 
 22 VISIT TO MY OLD HOME. 
 
 Each dear spot where so sweetly played 
 
 The bright, warm tints of love before, 
 
 And on each cloud a rainbow made, 
 
 That its calm summer heavens bore. 
 
 I had been led in distant ways, 
 
 And lovelier vales, and brighter flowers, 
 
 And greener hills and statelier bowers, 
 
 Beheld, in glow of Summer s rays, 
 
 And gentler hues of Spring s young days, 
 
 And golden mist that o er them plays 
 
 Through the warm Indian Summer hours; 
 
 Yet none could seem so dear to me, 
 
 However beautiful or new 
 
 However lovely they might be 
 
 In the warm Summer s glorious hue, 
 
 As home s old, gray and moss-grown bowers. 
 
 Its fields and its familiar flowers, 
 
 That once I knew and loved so well ; 
 
 Where every rock and tree could tell 
 
 Stories of happy by-gone hours. 
 
 I turned me towards the ancient wood, 
 That still in its green grandeur stood, 
 Whence, in the Spring, at even-fall 
 The whippoorwill was wont to call, 
 And even to wander forth, and pour 
 His plaintive song before our door. 
 The feathery brake grew rank and tall
 
 VISIT TO MY OLD HOME. 
 
 Within the shades, and underneath 
 Mv feet was crushed full many a wreath 
 Of tangled wild flowers, that had grown 
 And spent their odors there unknown. 
 The wood-path, that so oft had led 
 Our feet beneath the summer shade. 
 To the green plav-haunts of our love 
 In the cool coverts of the grove, 
 Or guided to the house of prayer, 
 When the still Sabbath hushed the air, 
 Was now untrodden, and almost 
 Among the bramble thickets lost. 
 
 A stillness gloomier and more deep 
 
 Than that the peaceful Sabbath gave, 
 
 Through those green places seemed to sleep. 
 
 As though above the lonely grave 
 
 Of the bright past the jovous hours 
 
 Life s lovely, faded vernal flowers 
 
 The light and happy fantasies 
 
 Of that fresh morn when youth was waking 
 
 To the full sense of all that lies 
 
 In beautv s world, upon it breaking 
 
 With all the glory that may glow 
 
 Upon the mortal eye below. 
 
 With what a melancholy tone 
 
 Came on mv ear the wild bird s scream !
 
 24 VISIT TO MY OLD HOME. 
 
 As in those shades I stood alone, 
 And dreamed again the happy dream 
 Of childhood s days, forever gone. 
 Gone! tis the dirge of every joy; 
 The vain and mournful echo-note 
 That on the passing breeze doth float, 
 To mock us with its memory. 
 
 Such is the tale of life. No day 
 That dawns upon this mortal shore 
 Wears the same freshness in its ray 
 With which the dawn arose before. 
 No Spring, that with the sun returns, 
 With bloom and green the earth to strew. 
 But o er some faded beauty mourns, 
 And flowers, amid sepulchral urns, 
 Are watered with its dew. 
 
 HEAVENLY MINISTRATIONS. 
 
 SWEET Hope, that, in our weary pilgrimage, 
 Dost strew our way with roses ; but too oft. 
 With thorny roses; yet we soon forget 
 The thorns, in tasting the perfumes they yield.
 
 HEAVENLY MINISTRATIONS. 
 
 ROSA. 
 
 Yet there s a blossom sweeter yet than these, 
 Which wither often ere tis noon; but that 
 Grows fresher still with the declining sun, 
 And gladdens with enduring loveliness, 
 After the thousand false, deceitful flowers, 
 Whose gaudy glitter cheats us for a while, 
 Have passed away, and left no fruit behind. 
 It s name s Content; how happy he who finds it! 
 
 Yet these two are not strangers to each other, 
 Content and Hope; for oftentimes they sit 
 Together, twining of fresh leaves and flowers, 
 Garlands of fadeless beauty for their heads, 
 Who wait in patience for the blessed gifts. 
 And in each other s faces, as they sit, 
 They look with loving smiles; and as the} look, 
 Hope grows more trustful, and content more meek, 
 And more of heaven beams from her quiet eyes. 
 
 ROSA. 
 
 True, sister : they are angels which God sends, 
 To pour sweet balm on weary hearts, to lighten 
 The cares of earth, its mourners to console, 
 And to make earth itself as much like heaven 
 As mortal hearts can bear or eyes behold. 
 4
 
 26 HEAVENLY MINISTRATIONS. 
 
 LILIAS. 
 
 Nay, God hath never left this world of sin, 
 Without kind angel visitors, whose hands 
 Were filled with blessings. He hath never sent 
 The weary and the sorrowing ones to walk 
 Through the dark pathways of affliction s twilight, 
 Without a heavenly guardian to stand near, 
 The fainting heart to strengthen, and to bring 
 Again, with gentlest art, the wandering thought, 
 To look to Him alone for every good. 
 
 ROSA. 
 
 There have been ever some who dreamed of angels 
 Watching o er those whom Innocence and Love 
 Kept tender-hearted through life s stormy day ; 
 But they were idle dreamers, in the view 
 Of a cold, faithless world, that only smiled 
 A careless and contemptuous smile, and turned 
 Its blear eyes downward on its wretched heaps 
 Of baubles and of perishable dust. 
 
 LILIAS. 
 
 And yet what heart so cold, so far from heaven, 
 But it hath sometimes felt the blessed breath 
 Of heavenly gales, or hath been made aware 
 Of influences from a higher sphere 
 Than that to which bleak selfishness confines 
 The narrowed soul? Hath not the vernal soil, 
 At least of childhood, with those dews been wet,
 
 HEAVENLY MINISTRATIONS. 27 
 
 Which fall in angel-watches, and which nourish 
 Sweet flowers, that make us happier, till the night 
 Of Autumn scatters all the earth with frost? 
 
 ROSA. 
 
 How soon the heat exhales the early dew, 
 
 When Summer s sun rides high ! How fast the chains 
 
 Of earth and sense lock up the willing heart 
 
 In walls of adamant, and make the ear 
 
 Too heavy to be charmed by angel songs 
 
 The eye too dim to look beyond the clouds 
 
 That curtain round the porticoes of time! 
 
 And heaven itself seems only as a dream 
 
 Of those whom bitter disappointment fills 
 
 With discontent of earth. 
 
 LILIAS. 
 
 Yet Heaven forsakes not 
 
 The hearts that close themselves against its love, 
 But with kind ministrations ever seeks 
 To win the lost and wandering back to life. 
 And if the honey-cells of earthly flowers, 
 It fills with heavenly nectar, are passed bv 
 With stolid carelessness, or worse than this, 
 Are turned to bitter venom, by the craft 
 Of sensual malice, does it shut its hand, 
 And leave its rebel children to be starved 
 By the vile tares they plant, and call them bread? 
 Does it not rather lavish out new gifts,
 
 23 HEAVENLY MINISTRATIONS. 
 
 And labor with new art to ope the eyes 
 So blind to every blessing, and to wake 
 Dead hearts to feel the warming glow of Spring? 
 
 Let us be thankful that so dear a faith 
 
 Is now set forth as in the light of day; 
 
 That the fond hopes, the dim presentiments, 
 
 The inward longings, which the single-hearted 
 
 Of darker ages cherished, are fulfilled; 
 
 And the uncertain light to which they clung, 
 
 As mariners for guidance to pale stars, 
 
 That glimmer through the rifts of murky cloud;;. 
 
 Has brightened into sunshine glad and clear. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF LIFE. 
 
 O LIGHT of joy! O blessed light! 
 That cheers the good man s path, and make* 
 Earth s lowliest, darkest valleys bright 
 With heavenly splendor where it breaks ! 
 What heartfelt peace, what fearless trust 
 Are his, who, guided by its ray, 
 Unfalteringly, treads the narrow way, 
 And finds the blessing of the just,
 
 THE LIGHT OF LIFE. 2!) 
 
 The shining of a perfect day. 
 Though tempests compass him around, 
 And spend their lightnings o er his head, 
 The almighty arms his steps surround, 
 And safely through the storm he s led. 
 And then he sees the promise-bow 
 Spanning the heavens, the holy sign 
 Of mercy, peace and love divine, 
 Dwelling with man below. 
 
 There will be hours in each one s life, 
 
 When gloomy thoughts come crowding on, 
 
 Like phalanxes to martial strife, 
 
 Like clouds before the morning sun ; 
 
 When from each dear thing of our love, 
 
 The bright enchantment fades away ; 
 
 And then, to him who hath above 
 
 No treasured hope of brighter day, 
 
 How sadly o er his gilded sky, 
 
 Comes the cold storm-cloud, to destroy 
 
 The fleeting summer of his joy ! 
 
 Tis not for nought that God hath made 
 
 A curtain-cloud at times to fall 
 
 Upon that heart, with withering shade, 
 
 That seeks not in his love its all. 
 
 Tis that there is no other home 
 
 But under his protecting hand
 
 30 THE LIGHT OF LIFE. 
 
 That those who from his care would roam 
 Godless, to seek a dwelling land, 
 Deceive themselves ; to teach this truth 
 He sets before our eyes the cloud 
 That hides the cherished hopes of youth, 
 The darkness and the veil that shroud 
 Our loveliest prospects, and make dim 
 Each star-lamp of our life, that ever 
 Receiveth not its light from Him. 
 Thus would He lead us to enjoy 
 That light which knows no fading love 
 Which grows not cold, without alloy, 
 Which comes alone from Him above. 
 
 But still we trim our taper blaze, 
 
 And cherish its expiring light, 
 
 Unmindful of the immortal rays 
 
 That make the mountain-summits bright, 
 
 Nor dream that our own shadows throw 
 
 The darkness and the chill of night 
 
 Across the murky vales below, 
 
 While the eternal sunbeams glow 
 
 Undimmed upon the mount of God, 
 
 The light of heaven, a quenchless flood, 
 
 Wrath to the faithless, blessing to the good.
 
 HEAVENLY WELCOME. 
 
 ) TV /TID the bell s funereal tolling, 
 i- A Mid the weeping of the mourners, 
 
 In the stillness of the chamber 
 
 Where the white-robed dead was laid, 
 
 Seemed to sound a joyful anthem, 
 
 Seemed to echo the dear welcome 
 
 Of another risen angel, 
 
 Passed to light from earth s dark shade. 
 
 One more gone to join the number 
 Of the host of the redeemed ones, 
 Who from glad thanksgiving cease not, 
 
 Singing His Almighty love, 
 Who had bought them, who had brought them 
 To His house of many mansions, 
 Children of the Marriage Supper 
 
 Of the Lamb of God, above.
 
 32 HEAVENLY WELCOME. 
 
 One more freed from earthly sorrows, 
 Earthly trials and temptations, 
 Passed the gates of death forever, 
 
 Welcomed to an angel s home. 
 In the midst of all the mourning, 
 In the sad funereal stillness, 
 Through the din of worldly tumult, 
 
 Seemed the blissful peal to come, 
 
 Of the anthem of her greeting, 
 Almost caught by mortal hearing, 
 As a sweet-voiced chorus, blending 
 
 With a lofty organ strain. 
 We have lost, but heaven has won her; 
 Be consoled, ye friends that mourn her, 
 Lost but for a little season ; 
 
 Hers is everlasting gain. 
 
 ON THE RIGHT HAND. 
 
 "COME YE BLESSED OF MY FATHER." 
 
 COME, from beds of painful sickness; 
 Come, from dark and sorrowful dwellings: 
 Come, from fiery fields of battle;
 
 ON THE RIGHT HAND. 
 
 Come, inherit heaven at last! 
 Ye who have on earth been faithful 
 Servants of your Lord and Master, 
 Come, your days of strife are past. 
 
 Come, ye mourners over loved ones 
 Passed the gates of death before you, 
 Friendless, fatherless and widows, 
 
 Lone and weary, sick and sad ; 
 He hath tried your souls as silver; 
 From the dross of sin hath purged you : 
 
 In His house shall make you glad. 
 
 Lovers, by strange fortune driven 
 Far from hope and from each other, 
 Daily seeking consolation 
 
 In His love that faileth not; 
 Come, where seas no more shall part you, 
 Finding more than ye have prayed for: 
 
 All your tears he now forgot 
 
 Ye who labored cheerless, hopeless, 
 Through oppression and misfortune, 
 Poor, uncared for and unpitied ; 
 
 Rich alone in faith and love; 
 Come, your earthly toils are ended. 
 Come, ye blessed of your Father, 
 
 There is joy for you above. 
 5
 
 34 ON THE RIGHT HAND. 
 
 All whom darkly, but in mercy, 
 
 He hath led through vales of sorrow, 
 
 Through temptations great and fearful, - 
 
 Come, your warfare now is o er. 
 He whose word of truth has kept you, 
 Whom ye have not vainly trusted, 
 
 Gives you peace forevermore. 
 
 Ye who thirst for living waters, 
 Hunger for the bread of heaven, 
 Pure in heart and poor in spirit, 
 
 Come, and find in God your rest! 
 He shall lead you, He shall feed you 
 With eternal consolations; 
 
 With His love and likeness blest. 
 
 VIOLET-BUDS. 
 
 A THOUSAND violet buds lie sleeping 
 Beneath the withered blades of grass 
 And wintry winds, above them sweeping, 
 Make mournful music as they pass. 
 
 The drifting snows of bleak December 
 Fall thick and heavy where they rest;
 
 VIOLET-BUDS. 35 
 
 While we, as in a dream, remember 
 The fields in green and beauty dressed. 
 
 Spring shall awake the slumbering blossoms 
 To greet the sunny skies of May; 
 
 While laughing children deck their bosoms 
 With violet-wreaths in happy play. 
 
 Beneath the snows of age are lying 
 Fresh violet buds of love and hope, 
 
 For sun and breath of spring time sighing 
 To call their purple blossoms up. 
 
 Alas! no earthly spring shall ever 
 Awake these Autumn buds to bloom ; 
 
 The evening sun s pale beams can never 
 Thaw the cold ground, so near the tomb. 
 
 The sunshine of a heavenly morrow 
 Shall call their beauty forth to view; 
 
 And their unshadowed leaves shall borrow 
 A purer sky s immortal blue. 
 
 No bud so deep, so darkly buried, 
 
 But love s warm beams shall find their way 
 To the cold prison where it tarried, 
 
 And welcome it to heavenly day.
 
 HOPE . 
 
 THE voice of Hope is ever singing : 
 Silvery voiced Hope ! 
 Her sweet, clear notes are ever ringing, 
 To clieer the drinkers of affliction s cup. 
 To the weary she is bringing 
 Blossoms fresh from Eden s bowers ; 
 The harp of gladness newly stringing. 
 She bids its music soothe our twilight hours. 
 Who, oh who shall say 
 
 That all her dear enchantments are delusion? 
 Who bid us cast away 
 
 Her garlands, gathered from the rich profusion 
 Of bloom that opens in celestial day? 
 O welcome, angel Hope! thy blossoms linger 
 Late on the Autumn field of sadness; 
 Doth not God send thee to us, thou sweet singer 
 Of joy and gladness? 
 Doth He not send thee hither,
 
 HOPE. 37 
 
 With promises of blessings kept in store 
 
 For those who, through misfortune s wintry weather, 
 
 With patient and with trustful heart endure? 
 
 For not to a rewardless strife 
 
 Doth Heaven invite us; all sincere the call 
 
 To overcome and share eternal life. 
 
 Thy banner, Hope, for all 
 
 To gather courage from, is wide outspread 
 
 In sunlight, as the rainbow, to adorn 
 
 And cheer life s lowering battle-morn, 
 
 Even o er the lowliest, weariest toiler s head. 
 
 O happy they who, as they look, behold 
 
 Above the banner starred with gold. 
 
 Faith with her sister Hope join hands, and hear 
 
 Her words of heavenly cheer ; 
 
 And learn of her to tread 
 
 With firmer step the upward ways that lead 
 
 To blissful dwellings, and with manlier heart, 
 
 Of this life s toils and woes to bear their part. 
 
 And they shall win the field, 
 
 And bear away the victor s palm, and know 
 
 What living vigor Virtue s laurels yield, 
 
 What cordial fruits are those which grow 
 
 Upon the trees that stand 
 
 Beside the paths, on either hand, 
 
 Which lead the worthy and the wise 
 
 Into her Paradise, 
 
 In the Immortal Land.
 
 SONG OF THE RED LILY. 
 
 I AM the red field lily; the sky 
 Of summer bends o er me with deep blue eye : 
 The butterfly flutters above my breast, 
 And the ground-bird hides by my side her nest. 
 
 I come when the early flowers are gone, 
 That the Spring delighted to look upon; 
 And with gayer and statelier ones than before 
 The meadows are gilded and purpled o er; 
 But I stand in glory above them all, 
 With Summer s crimson coronal. 
 
 Sweet odors from many a flower are borne 
 On the wakeful gale of the dewy morn ; 
 The lonely orchis, in forest shade, 
 In pictured mantle may be arrayed ; 
 But alone, in my gorgeous vesture, I rise, 
 And unfold my heart to the summer skies.
 
 SONG OF THE RED LILY. 39 
 
 Ask ye, who painted my cup so bright, 
 With the richest hues of the noon-day light? 
 What fingers fashioned my graceful stem 
 To bear up its ruby diadem ? 
 What skill, surpassing all human power, 
 My delicate tissues of leaf and flower, 
 Has woven with beauty so rich and rare, 
 With robes of monarchs beyond compare? 
 
 Tis He, ye know, who maketh for all, 
 
 His sun to shine and his rain to fall ; 
 
 \Vho feeds the sparrow, and hears the cry 
 
 Of the humblest creature beneath the sky; 
 
 And will not He, surely, who has such care 
 
 For the flowers of the field and the birds of the air, 
 
 Much more his mercy and kindness show, 
 
 O faithless children of men, to you? 
 
 FOR A CLERGYMAN S ALBUM. 
 
 IN sorrow and affliction, 
 The messenger of peace 
 Must toil to make the tender plants 
 Of good and truth increase.
 
 40 FOR A CLERGYMAN S ALBUM. 
 
 The banner of the Gospel 
 Must float o er fortress-towers, 
 And Christian men must soldiers be 
 Against infernal powers. 
 
 Six days of toil and and battle 
 Their bravest strength demand, 
 Before they find their Sabbath rest 
 Upon the promised land. 
 
 Be strong then, and have courage, 
 Thou that art called to stand 
 A watchman on the city walls, 
 With weapons in thine hand. 
 
 Though foes without and foes within 
 The heritage assail, 
 The Word of truth shall over all 
 In victory prevail. 
 
 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 SERENELY beautiful, the morning star 
 Shone through my window and proclaimed the day, 
 It shone upon my pillow as I lay. 
 Morn after morn I saw and watched it there :
 
 THE MORNING STAR. 41 
 
 And thought how quietly it had looked down 
 On all the tumult and the strife of earth, 
 Through the long ages since creation s birth, 
 Nor lost one jewel from its radiant crown. 
 
 And then of that blest star I thought, whose ray 
 Guided the Eastern Magi to the place 
 Where humbly lay the Lord of life and grace, 
 Born as an infant into earthly day. 
 
 But now, He dwells in mortal flesh no more ; 
 The - man of sorrows" now is glorified; 
 And Him, whom earth a resting place denied, 
 As King and Lord, the heavens of heavens adore. 
 
 He is their sun; they see His glory there, 
 Unclouded and undimmed, while we below 
 See one bright beam of the celestial glow 
 Shining upon us, as the morning star. 
 
 Arise, O heavenly Morning Star, and shine 
 Within my heart, so cold and dark and dead; 
 And teach my soul, whatever way I tread, 
 That all the light and all the life is Thine.
 
 THE SEED OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 O PRECIOUS seed, in by-gone times so rare ! 
 Only by sages gathered up with pain, 
 Now scattered wide for every soul to share, 
 Like the o erflowing blessing of the rain, 
 That waters every hill and every plain. 
 
 O precious seed ! how carelessly unsought 
 By the short-sighted children of to-day! 
 With what rich blessings is the morrow fraught, 
 For those who wake to gather them ; but they 
 Slumber the golden morning hours away. 
 
 Seed by the way-side scattered and down trod ! 
 What bounteous fields of harvest might have crowned 
 The labors of a faithful hand, when God 
 Gave dew and sunshine to the waiting ground ! 
 How fruitless is the idle summer found !
 
 THE SEED OF KNOWLEDGE. 4- $ 
 
 Heaven s daily blessings seem too cheap to prize ; 
 The constant light, that with its golden shower, 
 Illumes and blesses our unthinking eyes, 
 And the sweet air that fans us hour by hour, 
 And feeds the thankless breast with vital power. 
 
 So truth shines out with such unstinted light, 
 Our hearts grow senseless of its power and worth ;- 
 And we forget how sad and dark a night 
 Time past, was brooding o er the slumbering earth, 
 Ere knowledge s clear water-brooks sprang forth. 
 
 Yet not in vain the sunshine and the dew, 
 The seed in many a furrow cast abroad ; 
 Even now, earth blossoms to angelic view; 
 And fields the wise with patient toil have trod, 
 Shall yield rich harvests in the sight of God. 
 
 HOPE AND SPRING. 
 
 SPRING and Hope are sisters dear; 
 Ever walk they hand in hand; 
 When the sky is blue and clear, 
 Go they singing through the land,
 
 44 HOPE AXD SPRIXG. 
 
 Weaving of new leaves and flowers, 
 Garlands for the naked bowers. 
 
 Spring and Hope together come; 
 With the May-day sun they smile, 
 In glad hearts they make their home ; 
 And the sower s toil beguile, 
 With the promise of ripe grain, 
 When the Autumn comes again. 
 
 Ever welcome guests are they, 
 
 Whether at the palace gate, 
 
 Or the the cot beside the way, 
 
 With their precious gifts they wait ; 
 
 Making every bosom glad, 
 
 That the winter storms made sad. 
 
 Wide is opened every door, 
 Every heart to Hope and Spring. 
 Prince and peasant, rich and poor, 
 Share alike the gifts they bring. 
 Happy-hearted children play, 
 Strewing blossoms in their way. 
 
 O that Charity might be 
 
 Such a welcome guest with men ! 
 
 Every portal opened free 
 
 To receive the angel in. 
 
 Discontent and want and woe 
 
 Homes and hearts no more should know.
 
 TIME is MONEY." 
 
 SO says the worldling, who, with downcast eye, 
 Intent upon his shining heaps of gold, 
 Counts no day fortunate that does not add 
 Wealth to his coffers. Thus he coins his time 
 To gold; and heavily the passing hours 
 Drop petrified to lifeless ore beneath 
 His hands, and downward, like the magnet, draw 
 His beggar heart, which daily seems to grow 
 More earthly, and more like the dross he loves. 
 What can his treasures purchase? Honor, fame, 
 Preferment, ease or pleasure? The next breath 
 Of air may waft them like thin smoke away. 
 Love, friendship, happiness and peace of heart? 
 Nay, these are all too far beyond the reach 
 Of this poor world to give, how poor to him 
 Who asks for lasting blessings at its hand !
 
 40 "TIME is MONEY." 
 
 But what is time to him, who, while he walks 
 
 The earth, still breathes the air of heaven, and sees 
 
 Beyond earth s shadowy vale, the immortal fields? 
 
 A passing moment, but of priceless worth ! 
 
 A fleeting day, in which to do the work 
 
 For which eternity can find no room 
 
 Which all eternity can ne er undo ! 
 
 A day of Spring in which to sow the seed, 
 
 Of which the next world the ripe harvest gives. 
 
 Treasures hath time more rich than gold or gems; 
 
 Seize them to-day, or they are lost forever. 
 
 Thou hast no warrant of to-morrow s gifts. 
 
 To-day alone is thine, and thou art made 
 
 A steward in it, to give good account 
 
 Of what thou doest, when its sun is set, 
 
 And the night comes, "in which no man can work. 
 
 THE FOREST TEMPLE. 
 
 THE wood-path seemed a porch 
 To one of Nature s temples, wide and high, 
 Where underneath the forest s living arch, 
 Bright blossom-pavements lie.
 
 THE FOREST TEMPLE. 47 
 
 Green, blooming shrubs around 
 Threw incense of rich odors on the air, 
 Close walling in the temple s holy ground 
 
 With beauty rich and rare. 
 
 Amid the fragrant bloom, 
 The ripe blue clusters of the bilberry hung, 
 While high amid the maple s shadowy gloom 
 
 The clinging wild vine swung. 
 
 There, through the leafy aisles, 
 A rapturous anthem each fresh dawn awakes, 
 That like heaven s music, with day s earliest smiles, 
 
 The hallowed stillness breaks. 
 
 And softer, when the breeze 
 Of quiet evening through the red sky floats, 
 The feathered singers, from the dusky trees, 
 
 Send up their vesper notes. 
 
 For Nature s choristers, 
 In the wood temples, are the singing birds, 
 Whose guileless hymn as pure devotion stirs, 
 
 As solemn chanted words. 
 
 Methinks the red man there 
 To the Great Spirit bowed in solemn awe, 
 And offered silently his simple prayer, 
 
 And joyous omens saw,
 
 THE FOREST TEMPLE. 
 
 In passing of wild birds, 
 In playing of soft lights among the trees, 
 Or deemed he heard the Spirit s answering words, 
 
 In murmurs of the breeze. 
 
 O Thou, before whose sight 
 The holiest temple is the obedient heart, 
 Who in proud marble fanes hast no delight, 
 
 This grace, we pray, impart : 
 
 That we may ever hear, 
 
 Where er we go, thy footsteps and thy voice, 
 Making the solitude and desert drear 
 
 To blossom and rejoice. 
 
 THE FLOWER GARDEN. 
 
 THERE are blossoms in thy garden, 
 Every summer blooming fair; 
 But that they may grow and flourish, 
 They demand thy constant care.
 
 THE FLOWER GARDEX. 4!) 
 
 With the first spring bud s unfolding 
 Must thy cares and toils begin ; 
 
 Not to cease till Autumn s latest 
 Blossoms all are gathered in. 
 
 But I know of flowers more lovely 
 Than the fairest ones which grow, 
 
 Soon to die, in earthly gardens : 
 Bright immortal flowers I know. 
 
 Flowers of Goodness, Truth and Virtue: 
 Plant them in thy choicest ground; 
 
 In the garden of thv spirit 
 Let no baneful weed be found. 
 
 Labor for these tender nurslings 
 Of a heavenly soil and clime. 
 
 They demand more watchful culture 
 Than the plants of earth and time. 
 
 All thy spring-time, all the summer 
 Of thy life, they ask thy guard. 
 
 In thy ripe and golden Autumn, 
 They will give their rich reward. 
 
 Thev will give their hallowed sweetness, 
 When thy earthly joys are fled ; 
 
 Clustering in immortal garlands 
 Round the Christian s dying bed.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN S GARDEN. 
 
 THE Christian man hath a garden 
 Of beauty wondrous and rare; 
 There are bright and fragrant blossoms, 
 And fruit-trees "Teen and fair. 
 
 There is Love with her fadeless roses, 
 And Faith, that each morn looks up 
 
 The rising sun to welcome, 
 With her fresh and dewy cup. 
 
 There is Truth, pure, white and spotless, 
 And Hope, that with open eye 
 
 Looks upward through storm and winter, 
 Cheerfully, trustfully. 
 
 There is Charity, ever radiant 
 
 With Summer s sunny glow, 
 And Mercy, sweet flower of heaven, 
 
 Blossoming here below.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN S GARDEX. ol 
 
 There is Patience, that long endureth, 
 
 And Pity, with pearly tear, 
 While Joy crowns with smiling garlands 
 
 Each season of the vear. 
 
 The Lord, the heavenly Sower, 
 Hath planted this garden fair, 
 
 And His love still watches o er it, 
 With tender and constant care. 
 
 The sun of heaven doth cherish 
 With its kindly heat and light, 
 
 Each tree of the Father s planting, 
 Each blossom of beauty bright. 
 
 The Vine hangs with purple clusters, 
 The Fig tree its sweetness gives, 
 
 The Olive with green and fatness 
 On every hill-top thrives. 
 
 There is fruit for the soul that hungers, 
 
 And longs to be daily fed 
 With manna, like the angels, 
 
 With true and living bread. 
 
 The Lord such a garden giveth 
 To his servants to keep and till, 
 
 That they therein may labor 
 Daily to do his will.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN S GARDEN. 
 
 He planteth, but they must water; 
 
 A servant s part is theirs, 
 Faithful to guard and keep it, 
 
 If they would hereafter be heirs. 
 
 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 
 
 BEHOLD the heavenly city stand, 
 High on a mount, in noonday light, 
 With blessings filled from God s right hand, 
 Walled in with jasper, clear and bright. 
 
 Wide open stand its pearly gates, 
 Inviting all to enter in, 
 To tread with joy its golden streets, 
 And wisdom s starry crown to win. 
 
 There flows the eternal river, clear 
 As crystal from the throne of God ; 
 There trees with healing leaves appear, 
 And heavenly fruits for angel s food. 
 
 But who are they whose happy feet 
 
 On Zion s hill shall stand secure? 
 
 They in whose mouths is no deceit; 
 
 Whose hands are clean, whose hearts are pure.
 
 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 53 
 
 These are the blessed who shall be 
 Like fruitful trees by living streams; 
 And such shall dwell, O Lord, with thee, 
 Where thy eternal sunlight beams. 
 
 THE MOURNER S HOPE. 
 
 IF it were now instead of long ago, 
 For the first time proclaimed, that those who die 
 Shall rise again to immortality, 
 If, like an unexpected morning glow 
 Breaking the darkness of a hopeless night, 
 The joyful news of life beyond the tomb, 
 Brought by some heavenly messenger, had come, 
 How soon might Sorrow s downcast eye grow bright, 
 The heavy heart grow light, 
 
 That mourned for dear and lost ones, as the day 
 Drives the cold twilight shadows far away. 
 
 And is it now so long 
 
 Since the glad promise woke the ear of Faith, 
 
 Of better life beyond the gates of death, 
 
 That like an old, almost forgotten song, 
 
 It cheers no longer? for we mourn as though 
 
 Our faith itself were dead, 
 
 As though dear hopes had fled, 
 
 And left our souls to vain regret and wee.
 
 54 THE MOURNER S HOPE. 
 
 You say, Our eyes are dim ; 
 We cannot see so far. 
 Gone, and we know not where ! 
 We can but weep for him ! 
 
 Mourn then ; but let your grief 
 
 Be tempered with belief 
 
 In what we cannot see with mortal eyes ; 
 
 Trust in the tender love 
 
 Of Him who rules above, 
 
 All-merciful, Almighty, and All-wise; 
 
 With faith in him who gave 
 
 His life our lives to save, 
 
 Who calls the sleeping dead, and they arise, 
 
 And brings his children home 
 
 Through the gateway of the tomb 
 
 Into the gladness of his Paradise. 
 
 BUDS. 
 
 BUDS to garland infant foreheads, 
 Crimson leaf-tips peeping through ! 
 New blown roses, fair and fragrant, 
 
 In the path of childhood strew ! 
 Blushing roses, brightly jeweled 
 With the freshest morning dew.
 
 BUDS. 00 
 
 Ah, how soon the fires of passion 
 Wither up the youthful bloom ! 
 
 Ah, how oft the sunny morning 
 Changes to a night of gloom! 
 
 And the lovely head of beauty 
 Sinks to an unworthy tomb. 
 
 Plant ye deep in spring-time furrows 
 Love s and truth s immortal seed. 
 
 Give ye, through the weary Summer, 
 Rain of tears and patient heed! 
 
 So in Autumn ye may gather 
 Ripe and blessed fruit indeed. 
 
 THE LEAVES AND THE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY ONE OF RICHTER S GERMAN "PARABLES. 
 
 JOYOUSLY the light of May was glowing 
 J On the fresh and tender budding foliage, 
 Bathing all the forest in the glory 
 
 Of the Spring s delightful, rosy morning. 
 With the apple blooms the winds were playing, 
 Shaking to the ground a fragrant shower 
 Now and then, that whitened all the greensward. 
 By the blooming orchard passed the poet; 
 And it seemed to him the wanton zephyrs
 
 56 THE LEAVES AND THE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 Laughed to see the mimic snow-storm blowing 
 From the apple trees; and as he listened, 
 With his bosom full of spring-time gladness, 
 Thus, so seemed it, to the falling blossoms, 
 Spake the firm green leaves with exultation : 
 
 Ye vain and gaudy blossoms, 
 How quick ye fade away ! 
 While we grow greener, brighter still 
 Through all the summer day. 
 
 And when the frosted Autumn 
 Her spell around us throws, 
 Long after ve have passed away 
 How bright our vesture glows ! 
 
 Thus spake the leaves in Spring-time; 
 And thus replied the flowers : 
 We wish not to remain, and deck 
 \Vith you the summer bowers ; 
 
 For we have gifts more precious 
 On Autumn to bestow, 
 Than all the purple and the gold 
 Of your decaying show. 
 
 Hidden within our bosoms 
 The costly fruit is born ; 
 So, though w*e perish quick away, 
 O treat us not with scorn !
 
 THE LEAVES AND THE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 For ye shall shortly wither 
 
 Before the Autumnal blast, 
 And on the forest s frosted floor 
 
 In ruined heaps be cast : 
 
 And they who pluck our fruits, shall tread 
 
 Your scattered ruins o er, 
 And while they bless God for the flowers, 
 
 Shall think of you no more. 
 
 CONSOLATION. 
 
 I KNOW the darkness will not always last ; 
 That soon or late will glow the crimson dawn : 
 Earth shall not be forever frozen fast, 
 
 And Winter s snow will bv and by be gone. 
 
 I know that howsoever angrily 
 
 The storm may rage, a calm will some time come: 
 And the worn mariner, weary of the sea, 
 
 Shall reach at length his haven and his home. 
 
 And so I trust, and feel myself assured, 
 
 The woes and sorrows which oppress to-day, 
 
 However long and heavily endured, 
 
 Shall by and by grow light and pass away.
 
 58 CONSOLATION. 
 
 I know our loving Father cannot mean 
 
 That we should suffer with no good in view. 
 
 What though the good be far off and unseen ? 
 The Lord hath promised it : his word is true. 
 
 He that hath smitten us will bind us up : 
 
 Will feed the souls that hunger for his bread; 
 
 Will fill for us the emptied bitter cup 
 
 With heavenly wine; anoint the downcast head 
 
 With oil of joy for mourning. He will give 
 Beauty for ashes, songs of praise for sorrow; 
 
 And raise us from the dead, that we may live 
 And bless His name, in heaven s eternal morrow. 
 
 LEARNING AND LIFE. 
 
 Read at a reunion of the former pupils of the Mount Pleasant Classical In 
 stitution, at Amherst, August, 1847, fifteen years after the closing of the 
 school. 
 
 "IT J HEN towards the coming years we turn our eyes, 
 V V In youth s fresh morning, brightly stretches out, 
 Beyond our farthest view, a blooming path, 
 Inviting us to tread its hopeful way. 
 But when the road is travelled, and the gay 
 Illusions have passed by, how short, how vain, 
 Appear the hasty years ! what few results
 
 LEAKXIXG AXD LIFE. 
 
 Of solid and enduring good remain ! 
 And over time misspent we sigh, and say, 
 Alas, the vanity of human life ! 
 
 We grow not wise at once. As far below 
 Its real worth, our disappointed hearts 
 View the lamented past, as we before 
 Had overrated its prospective good. 
 But would st thou learn how little to expect 
 From the short-sighted labors of a day, 
 Look up behold the orbs of heaven, that wheel 
 With tireless flight in wondrous circles round, 
 And, if thy intellect can bear the task, 
 Labor to comprehend the mighty plan : 
 And then look back upon our little globe, 
 Whose years are but as moments, when compared 
 With stellar orbits whose wide spreading fields, 
 And wider oceans, are as viewless specks 
 In the broad regions of celestial space. 
 
 But vet another prospect must be scanned, 
 Ere we have learned to weigh in equal scales 
 At once the greatness and the littleness 
 Of human nature and of human life. 
 If thou the value of thy life compute 
 Alone by what to-day appears, thou must 
 Misjudge it. Tis but seed-time with thee now 
 At most, the springing of the summer blade :
 
 60 LEARNING AND LIFE. 
 
 Thy harvest an eternal morrow is. 
 
 Wondrous as that bright alphabet of stars 
 
 Appears, in which our nothingness we read, 
 
 Its glory fades to night, its gold is dust, 
 
 Viewed from the world on which that morrow breaks 
 
 And yet the glory of that world is thine ; 
 
 And we shall wake and find ourselves a part 
 
 Of that immortal universe, whose cycles 
 
 Time hath no measure to compute, nor space 
 
 A line its boundaries to circumscribe. 
 
 Thus with a double aspect doth our life 
 Appear in Wisdom s eye ; and thus doth He 
 Who made us, first with prodigies of power 
 O ervvhelm us in humility, that He 
 May safely afterwards make known how great 
 The blessing that awaits the humble heart. 
 
 Our years of studentship, we say, are past; 
 But we are learners still. The world itself 
 Is but a school, where every day are set 
 Before our eyes new lessons to be learned, 
 New tasks appointed for our hands to try. 
 We all are teachers too ; and, well or ill, 
 We give out lessons which our neighbors learn. 
 Each silent deed with eloquent tongue persuades ; 
 Example preaches oft with more success 
 Than all who stand in pulpits, and proclaim
 
 LKAKNTXG AXD LIFE. 01 
 
 Truths little practised, and perchance forgot 
 
 By priest and hearer both, by Sabbath eve. 
 
 We may grow wiser daily, if we will : 
 
 We may stand fools upon the yery top 
 
 Of Science s hill; and die like those who starve. 
 
 Laden with gold and gems, in desert lands. 
 
 The skill to learn, the wisdom well to use, 
 Not always meet. The wisest ones are oft 
 The most profoundly ignorant of what 
 The world calls wisdom, and of that for which 
 The schools grant honors, titles and degrees. 
 Then let us hear, as down the rapid stream 
 Of Time, we float, the sweet but earnest song 
 The angel of our life sings as we go, 
 While pointing to the landmarks on our way, 
 Warning us that amid the varied charms 
 Which Nature, Learning, Science, Truth, afford, 
 We seek our wisdom in this noblest truth, 
 That without love to Him who gives them all, 
 And love to man our brother, all is vain 
 That we have learned, or done, or yet shall do.
 
 THE OLD ORCHARD. 
 
 TREES whose green and blossom 
 Cheered my childhood s eye; 
 In whose cooling shadows, 
 When the sun was high, 
 Playful toil beguiled me 
 
 Through the summer hours, 
 Once again I greet you, 
 Old and friendly bowers. 
 
 Here the sweetest music 
 
 Of the rnatin bird, 
 At the early coming 
 
 Of the spring was heard ; 
 Here the loveliest blossoms 
 
 Field or forest knew, 
 Bathed their tender leaflets 
 
 In the summer dew. 
 
 And the yellow autumn 
 Here before us spread
 
 THE OLD OKCHAED. 63 
 
 Pier delicious treasures, 
 As, with rustling tread, 
 
 Came she by with garlands 
 Of the vine and sheaf, 
 
 And entwined her tresses 
 With the last green leaf: 
 
 Though a tone of sadness 
 
 All our joy came o er, 
 As red leaves were mingled 
 
 With the golden store; 
 And the frosty winter 
 
 Followed in her train, 
 And his snow-flakes scattered 
 
 Where her fruits had lain. 
 
 Venerable orchard ! 
 
 Verse delights to tell, 
 In thy green recesses 
 
 What sweet memories dwell 
 Like the birds, that fondly 
 
 To thy cool retreat 
 Cling for kindly shelter 
 
 From the summer heat. 
 
 O how many like us, 
 
 Thy green shades beneath,
 
 64 THE OLD ORCHARD. 
 
 Have of Hope s gay blossoms 
 Twined the smiling wreath, 
 
 And delighted hung it 
 On some friendly bough, 
 
 But to see it shattered 
 Bj the storm, ere now ! 
 
 Be it so ; all scattered 
 
 Childhood s gathered flowers ; 
 Leafless, torn, uprooted, 
 
 All its greenest bowers ; 
 Nay, its friends departed, 
 
 Dearest, kindest, best, 
 In whose happy presence 
 
 Our young hearts were blest. 
 
 Grieve not at their passing; 
 
 Look not wistful back 
 From thy manhood s prospects, 
 
 To the narrow track, 
 Worn by childish footsteps : 
 
 Idly shalt thou there 
 Shrines of joys departed 
 
 Labor to repair. 
 
 Pleasures glow and vanish 
 As the seasons wane;
 
 T1IK OLD OKCHAKD. 05 
 
 Joys, earth-born, like flowers, 
 Earthward turn again : 
 
 Think not to retain them 
 With a miser s hand : 
 
 All their gold shall moulder 
 In thy grasp to sand. 
 
 Yet know well, one sunbeam 
 
 Ne er is taken away 
 From the glowing noontide 
 
 Of thy summer daj% 
 But to gild the morrow 
 
 With a happier light : 
 Rest then, calm and trustful 
 
 Through the storm v night. 
 
 MY INHERITANCE. 
 
 A SCANTY bit of barren soil, 
 Profuse alone of useless weeds, 
 Is all the ground where I must toil, 
 To plant and gather heavenly seeds. 
 God grant me, hoping, not in vain, 
 His blessed sunshine and his rain.
 
 66 MY INHERITANCE. 
 
 God grant m e strength and patience still, 
 
 To labor in my narrow field. 
 
 With patient doing of His will, 
 
 The poorest ground some fruit may yield. 
 
 And one ripe grain of wheat is more 
 
 To Him than Sodom s wealthiest store. 
 
 Shall I my single talent hide, 
 
 And leave my heritage to waste, 
 
 Because it is not rich and wide, 
 
 And under tropic sunshine placed ? 
 
 And when my Lord his tithes shall claim, 
 
 How can I bear the idler s shame? 
 
 No. let me not complain how small 
 My portion, but how little good 
 My weariest summer s work could call 
 Out of the ground I ploughed and hoed. 
 Alas ! with barrenness and drought, 
 And frost, I almost vainly fought. 
 
 I dream of gardens broad and fair, 
 With manj a lovely blossom sown. 
 A few frail plants exhaust my care; 
 The rest is all with weeds o ergrown. 
 Farewell, vain dreams! It now remains 
 To cull my few ripe harvest grains.
 
 MY INHERITANCE. 67 
 
 How scant the store ! yet strange to tell, 
 My board is still with bounty spread. 
 Always, by some kind miracle, 
 Are multiplied my loaves of bread ; 
 My homely water turned to wine. 
 Thanks for the blessing, all divine! 
 
 TRUE LIFE. 
 
 THE more thou puttest in the Lord thy trust, 
 The stronger shall thine arm for service be : 
 When thou rememberest that thou art but dust, 
 Then first awakes a living soul in thee. 
 
 When thou canst say, O Lord, thy will be done, 
 Then shall thy arm grow strong for truth and right: 
 
 W r hen thou despairest, thou hast first begun 
 To learn from whence the feeble heart hath might. 
 
 When thou hast gained a victory o er a foe, 
 I last prayed in fear for storms to break away, 
 
 Then first the peace of angels shalt thou know, 
 Shalt feel how sweet is heaven s unclouded dav. 
 
 When thou with cheerful zeal for virtue s part, 
 Enchanting Pleasure s rose-path shall forsake, 
 
 Then first true jov shall warm and bless thy heart. 
 And heavenly blossoms by thy side awake.
 
 68 TRUE LIFE. 
 
 When with unfaltering courage thou hast sought 
 On duty s battle-field thy prize to win, 
 
 And, in thy self-forgetfulness, hast thought 
 The world too little to be gained by sin, 
 
 Then hast thou first grown master of thyself 
 Thy meaner self hast conquered ; and shalt find 
 
 That thou hast well disdained the slavish pelf. 
 Of the base kingdom thou hast left behind. 
 
 THE WORSHIP OF LIFE. 
 
 I SAW a way ascending, where bright hills 
 Serene and beautiful, lay far above 
 The snowy mountain-tops of earth, that pierced 
 The cloudless ether. Thither went I up, 
 Till on the summit of the hills I stood, 
 In their pure atmosphere, as on the pavement 
 Of the great temple of the universe. 
 Of whose sublime and thousand-pillared dome. 
 The azure canopy that curtains earth 
 Is but a single arch. As there I stood, 
 A strain of melody entranced my ears, 
 Like a deep organ-peal of lofty tone, 
 Whose bass was as the rolling thunder s voice.
 
 TJIK WORSHIP OF LIFE. 
 
 Vet calm as mightv, and serene as deep: 
 
 Filled up with sweet and wondrous harmonies. 
 
 As though the voices of all ocean s waves, 
 
 Were joined with all the voices which the wind 
 
 Brings from each mighty thing that bears its blast 
 
 With giant firmness, and each fragile thing 
 
 That bends before its gentlest whisperings. 
 
 With such profound solemnity that psalm 
 
 Its mighty and o erpowering cadence swelled, 
 
 Yet with such gentleness and sweetness filled. 
 
 Inspiring calmest peace and henvenly trust, 
 
 I could but kneel in adoration deep; 
 
 And though I saw no living creature near. 
 
 I felt as though the universe of life 
 
 U ere present, joined with me in worship there. 
 
 Surely, thought I, some seraph choir is near 
 
 Who celebrare their Sabbath here unseen. 
 
 As thus 1 listened, on mv vision came, 
 As in a living picture, earth s fair fields. 
 Subdued to man s dominion, and replete 
 With all the activity of busy life. 
 There all the elements of nature toiled 
 Ceaseless for man, his tributaries all, 
 To drive his wheels, his spindles and his looms. 
 To forge his shafts, and over sea and land 
 His burdens and his messages to bear.
 
 70 THE WORSHIP OF LIFE. 
 
 There issued forth the ploughman with his plough. 
 
 That cleft with heavy sound the fertile sod ; 
 
 Down at the mower s feet the whistling scythe 
 
 Laid low the blooming burden of the field, 
 
 While creaking wains conveyed the treasure home. 
 
 There rose the vintage shout and harvest song; 
 
 Nor wanting was the lowing of the herd, 
 
 And bleat of flocks, and each sweet rural sound. 
 
 In forest deep the woodman s hearty stroke 
 
 Loud echoed; while the quarry and the mine 
 
 With din of labor sent their treasures forth. 
 
 The smith incessantly his anvil beat, 
 
 While saws and hammers with tumultuous strife 
 
 Resounded, as the builders labored on 
 
 To rear up cities, where the pulse of life 
 
 Beats more intensely, and the willing hand 
 
 Find largest scope to scatter blessings round. 
 
 There to the wave of living sound were joined 
 
 The carol of the boatman at his oar, 
 
 And sailor s shout, as with his brawny arm 
 
 He lifts the anchor, and unfurls the sail, 
 
 That speeds the wealth of nations o er the breast 
 
 Of ocean, gathered from remotest shores. 
 
 All these with every sound of human joy 
 
 And hope, and every tone that nature breathes 
 
 From her sweet instruments, together rose 
 
 To swell that anthem of sublimest praise.
 
 THE WOKSIIIP OF LIFE. 
 
 All in one harmony can Love combine, 
 Because one blessing is within them all ; 
 
 And their rude jar to melody refine, 
 As it ascends 011 angel s ears to fall. 
 
 Man hears indeed but discord, when his heart 
 Is closed by selfish passions to the flow 
 
 Of those pure influences which impart 
 To all his being warm affection s glow; 
 
 Hut when he opens the soul s inner doors, 
 
 Heaven breathes upon him, and attunes his ear, 
 
 To hear the harmonies which love restores, 
 
 As from their homes of peace the angels hear: 
 
 The mere material sound forgotten quite, 
 
 In presence of that spirit which displays 
 This truth before him in celestial light, 
 
 Use to the neighbor is God s highest praise. 
 
 Love in its bosom doth all blessings bear; 
 
 Worship without it is a lifeless thing; 
 The breath of charity alone is praver, 
 
 Lifting the soul from earth on hallowed wing. 
 
 As from this high communion man descends, 
 And to perform his daily duty goes, 
 
 Still with his inner thoughts that chorus blends, 
 Which on his spirit s ear so sweetlv rose.
 
 72 THE WORSHIP OF LIFE. 
 
 The brotherhood of labor he esteems 
 
 No servile bondage, which he fain would break, 
 But rather like a golden chain it seems, 
 
 To bind all hearts in concord, and to make 
 
 All hands subservient to one common cause, 
 With heaven co-workers, in a lower sphere; 
 
 Yet guided by the same eternal laws, 
 That heaven may have its earthly pattern here. 
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SPRING. 
 
 ONCE more the glorious miracle is done, 
 And all the naked winter woods stand forth 
 In robes of tender green, and all the fields 
 Flourish with herbage and rejoice in bloom. 
 How great the miracle, if ne er but once 
 In all the ages, Spring had garnished earth 
 With such magnificence of beauty, spread 
 So lavishly abroad in all her realm ! 
 How happy should we deem the eyes of those 
 Who lived to see the glory in their day! 
 And is it less a miracle, that now 
 We see it every year renewed before us? 
 And is it less divine, because it grows
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SPRING. 73 
 
 A thing so common, that unthinking hearts 
 Cease to admire the beauty, and forget, 
 Or never learn, that He whose Word of power 
 At first created earth and called it good, 
 Daily creates and blesses it anew. 
 
 A VISION OF HOPE. 
 
 BEYOND the deep, black river, which vessel has never 
 passed, 
 High over the rock-ribbed mountains, which the strength of 
 
 the Lord sets fast, 
 
 I see a beautiful country, with youth and love aglow, 
 Where comes no cold nor winter; where gathers no frost nor 
 snow. 
 
 And they that have gone before us, a host that no tongue can 
 
 count, 
 Stand in white robes and beckon to us from the shining 
 
 mount. 
 They bid us be brave ^and faithful, could we but their voices 
 
 hear; 
 They bid us endure with patience, till the day of release draws 
 
 near. 
 
 Kind friends, dear brothers and sisters, sweet hope expects to 
 
 meet,
 
 74 A VISION OF HOPE. 
 
 Among the ransomed millions, that dwell on the golden street : 
 Friends for and with whom I may labor, with service however 
 
 small, 
 So we may be brought still nearer the Lord, who does good 
 
 to all. 
 
 And one who is more than sister, one who is more than 
 
 friend, 
 
 Waits there to bid me welcome, her life with my own to blend ; 
 With helpful hands for each other a paradise to make; 
 With joyful hearts for each other the burden of love to take. 
 
 An end to the restless warfare, an end to the painful strife, 
 An end to the jarring discords, that weary this earthly life; 
 And the trees that so many summers bloomed fruitless, shall 
 
 yield their full ; 
 And the hearts that were sad and broken, shall be glad again, 
 
 and whole. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 HOW sweet the charm where Love unites 
 Two kindred souls, to make 
 A heaven of their terrestial home, 
 And all the kindly graces come, 
 Their blessings to partake.
 
 LOVE. 75 
 
 There Friendship finds a welcome seat, 
 
 And Charity s a guest, 
 And every day of all the year 
 Brings peace, contentment and good cheer, 
 
 With angels at the feast. 
 
 PROGRESS. 
 
 YOUNG Progress, once upon a time, 
 Desired to take the reins, 
 And drive the steeds of Time himself 
 Across the Western plains. 
 
 The team was safe in Steady s hands, 
 
 But then he drove so slow ! 
 Pray, father, let me try for once, 
 
 I m old enough, I know. 
 
 "My son." said Steady, "You shall hear 
 
 The counsels of your sire; 
 But if, well warned, you still insist, 
 
 I grant you your desire. 
 
 "The way that we must go," said he, 
 
 "Hath dangers not a few; 
 And not a single step of it 
 
 Is known to me or you."
 
 76 PROGRESS. 
 
 But Progress was a headstrong youth, 
 
 And gave but little thought 
 To lessons from the lips of age, 
 
 Howe er with wisdom fraught. 
 
 He took the reins, on dashed the steeds; 
 
 The way seemed smooth and plain; 
 The crowds, exulting, shout "Hurrah !" 
 
 Beside the rattling wain. 
 
 What brave advances we have made, 
 
 Is his exulting cry. 
 What of the rude and sluggish past 
 
 With modern times can vie ! 
 
 Down with the fences ! bridge the streams ! 
 
 We ll take a shorter way ; 
 A good time s coming, we ve been told ; 
 
 We ll have it here to-day ! 
 
 The glittering of the distant hills 
 
 His eager eye engaged ; 
 He heeded not the slippery rocks, 
 
 The floods that round them raged. 
 
 Too late, he saw the danger near; 
 
 He sought escape too late ! 
 The good time soonest comes for those 
 
 Who bide their time and wait.
 
 w 
 
 THE CHILD AND THE SEASONS. 
 
 HAT dost thou bring for me? what dost thou bring? 
 Haste with thy gifts of joy, beautiful Spring. 
 
 May-flowers I bring thee, all blushing and sweet; 
 Violets I scatter all under thy feet; 
 Wind-flowers in green budding thickets I strew; 
 Buttercups golden I spread in your view. 
 Gather them quickly; enjoy them to-day; 
 For soon, on the morrow, they ll wither away. 
 
 What dost thou bring for me? Haste, and come near, 
 Beautiful Summer, so sunny and clear! 
 
 Roses I bring thee, the sweetest of June, 
 Perishing roses : Oh ! gather them soon. 
 Lilies I bring thee, that ope with the day; 
 But ere the sun set, they wither away. 
 Bright days, with golden winged sunbeams, I bring, 
 When the green fields laugh, and happy birds sing. 
 Haste to enjoy them, while bright are the hours, 
 Warm are the sunbeams and fresh are the flowers ;
 
 78 THE CHILD AND THE SEASONS. 
 
 Haste, and with blessed deeds fill them ; Oh, haste, 
 Ere the sun set, and the summer be past! 
 
 What dost thou bring for me, season of bounty, 
 Autumn, thy hands overflowing with plenty? 
 
 Fruit from the orchard and corn from the field ; 
 Sweet nuts I bring, which the forest trees yield ; 
 Blessings abundant on you I bestow; 
 What thanks to the heavenly Father you owe ! 
 Ripe fruits I scatter, and frost, on the ground ; 
 Nuts and dry leaves fall together around; 
 Beautiful blossoms I spread in your way; 
 Landscapes I show you, as lovely as May ; 
 With bright days and sunny I gladden the heart, 
 Yet mourn not that soon must their beauty depart. 
 Enjoy them with thankfulness while they remain, 
 For soon the cold snow-drifts will cover the plain. 
 
 What dost thou bring for me, season austere, 
 Hoary-haired Winter? what bringest thou here? 
 
 Cold storms I bring; but they soon will be over; 
 With a mantle of snow the earth s bosom I cover, 
 But soon it will melt in the sun s smiling beams, 
 And my bridges of ice will be gone from the streams. 
 Bright hopes I bring, and sweet pleasures, to cheer 
 The darkest and stormiest days of the year; 
 Innocent sports for the gay and the young, 
 Good books to read, and sweet songs to be sung.
 
 THE CHILD AND THE SEASONS 
 
 Works, too, I bring vou, good deeds to be done ; 
 Haste to perform them before I am gone. 
 Let there not be even a short winter day, 
 Whose hours you have foolishly idled away. 
 
 PARNASSUS. 
 
 ~T) RIGHTLY the sun is gilding the green peaks 
 -LJ Of the old mountain where the Muses dwelt; 
 And freshly as in Homer s days of song, 
 Springs the Castalian fountain by its side, 
 Bathed in whose waves, the Grecian harp sent forth 
 Sweet strains, that echo yet in human hearts. 
 
 Yet seek no more for inspiration there, 
 Ye who to fadeless laurel crowns aspire. 
 Gone from Apollo s consecrated shades, 
 Long since, their hallowing spirit. By that fount, 
 So dear to them, ye shall no more descry, 
 Clad in their leaf and flower-embroidered robes. 
 The choral sisters. From the Olympian heaven 
 The gods have vanished, there to rule no more 
 The childish nations, that with idle faith, 
 Yielded them homage. Ye shall seek in vain 
 The winged steed, o er Beauty s glowing realms, 
 Fresh with Parnassian dews, to bear you up;
 
 80 PARNASSUS. 
 
 Too weak his pinions for the bolder flights 
 That Truth s high errands of the seer demand. 
 Truth from the record book of earth sweeps off 
 The poet s idle dreams; from Ida s mount 
 Rolls back the clouds that veiled the fabled seat 
 Of Jove, and shows the naked mountain top 
 Kingless and throneless. In sublimer light 
 Than ever glowed upon Olympus crest, 
 Reveals a heaven in which the heroes crowned 
 With laurel in Elysium would be 
 But meanest beggars, and its idle jrods, 
 Despised and lifeless images of clay. 
 
 All mountains now are holy, and all groves 
 Are temples, where the humble heart, that loves 
 To meet with God, may find and worship Him. 
 One divine spirit breathes in every gale, 
 Or dwells, in calm repose, wherever blooms 
 A flower, or waves a tree in living green ; 
 Wherever chants a bird his morning hymn, 
 Or whatso er it be, that may remind 
 The creature of the infinite Father s power, 
 Who formed them by his \Vord, and animates 
 Their being by his ever present love. 
 All holy, to the heart that gladly finds 
 The impress of Almighty wisdom stamped 
 On every beautiful, every common thing;
 
 PAKNASSUS. 81 
 
 And deems that nought that is can be too small, 
 Too common or too mean, to have no claim 
 Of kindred with its Maker and our God. 
 
 THE DEPARTED. 
 
 GONE ? Yes, but for a little while the parting and the 
 pain. 
 Heaven shall restore the near and dear to those they love 
 
 again. 
 Gone, whither \ve shall follow soon, with them the joys to 
 
 share, 
 
 Which for his servants here below, the Lord hath treasured 
 there. 
 
 Gone? No: they dwell with us unseen, they share our hopes 
 
 and fears. 
 
 In our rejoicing they rejoice, and sorrow in our tears. 
 Unseen, God sets his angel watch, with constant care to keep 
 The ways his children walk by day, and guard their nightly 
 
 sleep. 
 
 Departed, but not dead ; vea, more alive than when they dwelt 
 With us on earth in mortal flesh, and all its weakness felt. 
 They only lose their earthlv part, they gain immortal youth, 
 Who in the fear of God have lived, and kept his word of truth, 
 ii
 
 INNOCENCE. 
 
 DEAR Innocence in a low cottage dwells, 
 Where the first sunbeams of the morning kiss 
 The dew drops from the blossoms, and look in 
 Through the unshaded windows, wide and fair, 
 And through her open door; while happiest birds 
 Sing their spring carols. With her own content, 
 She never wanders from her home away 
 To seek for more than Heaven can give her there. 
 Herself forgetting, with herself at peace, 
 The morrow can but bring her joy; the night, 
 That sweet repose remorse can ne er disturb. 
 Her seasons have no winter and no frost. 
 Her garden never fails for fragrant flowers, 
 Of which she wreathes fresh garlands for the heads 
 Of infants, whom she watches o er, and keeps 
 With all solicitude and tender care; 
 And whispers in their ears sweet things, which none 
 Besides can hear, save angels ; nor forsakes 
 Her charge, till they stray wilful from her courts.
 
 INNOCENCE. 83 
 
 Conceit and Folly, Vanity and Pride, 
 
 Are blind to every avenue that leads 
 
 To her abode; but Wisdom is her guest 
 
 By day and night, most honored at her board. 
 
 And Mercy and Compassion walk with her; 
 
 And Charity and Friendship drink the stream 
 
 That issues from the fountain at her gate. 
 
 Amid the blossoming roses there she sits, 
 
 Unwounded by the thorns : Love shares her seat, 
 
 And worships with her in her sanctuary, 
 
 And dwells with her through all the season s change. 
 
 How happy they who know her voice, and love 
 Her sweet companionship, and seek for her, 
 In the warm sunshine of her peaceful home; 
 And she will call them friends, and give them more 
 Than they have left behind in palaces. 
 
 SPRING FLOWERS. 
 
 GATHER me wild flowers, fill my vases full, 
 Fresh with the dew of morn and breath of Sprins 
 Fetch me sweet Mayflowers,* that so early dare, 
 From their close hiding-places to peep forth, 
 
 *Epigaca repens, otherwise called Trailing Arbutus.
 
 84 SPRING FLOWERS. 
 
 And deck the earth with beauty, while the snow 
 
 Yet lingers in the shadow of the wood : 
 
 Bring handfuls of cerulean Innocence, f 
 
 That dots the turf all thick with silver stars, 
 
 Marsh Marygolds,J that make the meadows laugh 
 
 With golden sunshine; violets, purple-streaked, 
 
 Looking out covlv through their soft-fringed lids; 
 
 Deep blue Hepaticas, from sunny slopes 
 
 Of wooded hills; gay scarlet Columbines, 
 
 That love to nod above the rocky cliff; 
 
 Anemones, that hide their blushing heads 
 
 Behind green curtains, in the sylvan shade; 
 
 Rhodora, that adorns her leafless stems 
 
 With crowns of rosy flowers ; add graceful bells 
 
 Of dog-tooth violets, and white Saxifrage. 
 
 Its tale of joy and gladness each shall tell, 
 
 And wake old memories of their woodland homes, 
 
 Whose floor my feet may never tread again. 
 
 Haste, bring them ere they wither in your hands; 
 
 Bind them together with a golden thread, 
 
 For love, for hope, for memory, and for trust 
 
 In Him who made them all so beautiful. 
 
 fHoustonia, or Oldenlandia Coerulea, a flower extensively found 
 through the United States, and called by various local names, such as Inno 
 cence, Venus Pride and Bluets. 
 
 JThis is the proper English name of what is here commonly called Cow 
 slip; in Botany, Caltha palustris.
 
 THE PRICE OF LOVE. 
 
 HOW sacred and how dear a trust 
 Thou takest with thy marriage vow ! 
 The love which thou hast inly nursed 
 Must answer for thee now; 
 
 Must teach thy brave and manly heart, 
 Her burdens with thine own to bear, 
 
 And heaven-descended strength impart, 
 To take the double share. 
 
 The tender secret of her life, 
 
 Which else from all the world she hides, 
 The honor of a trusting wife, 
 
 She to thy care confides. 
 
 Thine but to love; not thine to make 
 A slave or toy ; else but a loan 
 
 All undeserved ; and for her sake 
 Thou art but half thine own. 
 
 Strong love can no exceptions frame 
 To nature s laws ; and he must pay
 
 86 THE PRICE OF LOVE. 
 
 Full price for all that he would claim, 
 And give himself away. 
 
 Yet richer thus than e er before, 
 Large interest in return he gains, 
 
 And finds that Heaven s reward can more 
 Than recompense his pains. 
 
 NATURE. 
 
 "\ ~\ 7"HAT aspects thousand-fold of loveliness 
 
 * And grandeur Nature sets before our eyes, 
 In ever changing sky and blooming earth, 
 To tempt our admiration and our praise ! 
 Not at rare seasons only, waited for 
 Through years of hope and longing, but as though 
 She could not be too lavish of her gifts, 
 Spread all around us daily, so that none 
 May miss the beauty, who have eyes to see, 
 Or fail to find the joy, with hearts to feel. 
 And while the curtains of this earthly tent 
 She paints with pictures all significant 
 Of a sublimer life than she can boast, 
 She wakens, on her thousand-stringed harp, 
 To charm us, harmonies so deep and full,
 
 NATURE. 
 
 That we can utter but a little part 
 
 Of what we hear, and ere we comprehend 
 
 The depth and fullness, we are raised above 
 
 The arms of Nature to a higher sphere. 
 
 For Nature s realm is but a theatre, 
 
 Whose scenes of beauty and of grandeur stand. 
 
 Not only to entrance the wondering eyes, 
 
 And fill the heart with rapture, but before 
 
 The inner sense to image forth the hand 
 
 Of wonder-working power behind the veil, 
 
 And to invite and lead us to confess, 
 
 The glory is but, borrowed from a world 
 
 Of life immortal and of light divine; 
 
 That what we see is only a reflection 
 
 A shadow of realities unseen; 
 
 And Nature, whom we worship as a goddess, 
 
 Onlv a servant of the Lord of all. 
 
 SUNSHINE. 
 
 SHUT it not out the golden light, 
 But let its radiance softly pour 
 Through the clear window, warm and bright. 
 Across the vellow floor.
 
 88 SUNSHINE. 
 
 Shut it not out. The joyous sun 
 Has many a ta .e to tell to me, 
 While through the quiet afternoon 
 His slanted beams I see. 
 
 Tales of young years, of childhood s home, 
 Of Autumn s days, so calm and clear, 
 When the warm sunlight used to come 
 Just as I see it here, 
 
 Through windows open to the day, 
 In that old home, so dear to me, 
 Whose mossy roof, through far away, 
 In memory still I see. 
 
 Then let the golden sunshine stream 
 Across my lonely chamber floor; 
 And let me dream the happy dreams 
 Of childhood s days once more. 
 
 The city s walls that hem me in 
 Shall seem awhile to fade away-, 
 And hushed shall be its busy din, 
 As for a Sabbath day. 
 
 Tall chestnut groves, with whispering sound, 
 As when by summer winds caressed, 
 Shall seem with green to wall me round, 
 And soothe my heart to rest.
 
 HOME IN THE WOODS. 
 
 YE pleasant groves, cool, mossy shadows, green 
 Retreats of summer, how I mourned your fall 
 Gone from the hill-side were the grateful bowers, 
 The homes of childhood s pleasures, sacred seats 
 Of its first aspirations after good, 
 Among whose murmuring leaves the holy voice 
 That speaks of God in nature, first came down 
 To one who loved beneath their canopy 
 To feel the awe of solitude, and breathe 
 The inspiration of that silent scene. 
 A little sanctuary in the wood, 
 Was childhood s home to him, where peacefully 
 The days and seasons passed, while what is called 
 " The world" was far removed and all unknown. 
 The leaves and blossoms were his teachers there, 
 Reminding him of the creating hand 
 That fashioned them so wondronsly ; while books 
 That echoed their wise teaching, led the way 
 To fields of wider view, and brought within 
 Home s dear but narrow circle of delights, 
 A new companionship: the wise and good
 
 90 HOME IX THE WOODS. 
 
 Of all times and all nations, teach in books, 
 And we can hear their counsels and give heed, 
 If we but will. So from beneath the wood 
 The grown up child went forth, but carried still 
 The love of forest flowers and forest shades 
 Within his bosom, while he walked the streets, 
 Amid the city s busy throng, that seemed 
 A solitude more lonely than the wood. 
 And then they hewed the shady groves away, 
 And let the sunlight in. So Providence 
 Oft pulls away the bulwarks we have reared 
 Round some long-cherished object, dear to self, 
 But shutting out the sunlight from the soul. 
 So must the bud break open its green cell, 
 To glow a lovelv blossom in the dav. 
 Yet who will not lament, (at least sometimes,) 
 The fading of the pictures, so endeared, 
 That curtained childish innocence around, 
 And kept it, like the wrapped-up bud, awhile, 
 From the rude contact of the heartless world? 
 
 VERSES WRITTEN FOR MR. AND MRS. H. 
 
 WE are but travellers and pilgrims here, 
 And a short journey brings us to the end 
 Of our abode in earthlv tabernacles.
 
 VKIJSKS WIUTTKX FOR Mil. AXD MRS. H. !)1 
 
 When past, at least, how short the time appears ! 
 However wearily and painfully 
 Wo trod the marches of the wilderness, 
 And longed for green oases on the wav. 
 The sun of life has now gone bv its noon, 
 And shadows lengthen, as the sloping rays 
 Tell of the dark, chill evening soon to come. 
 Awake, gird up vour loins, and he prepared, 
 When your last earthly day has reached its close, 
 To welcome the eternal dawn with jov. 
 Lift up the eyes of Faith even now, and see 
 The shining tops of the eternal mountains. 
 How shall earth longer tempt us, when we once 
 Have seen the glory of their light? what boots 
 The wealth of India to the traveller, who 
 To-morrow leaves it for a heritage 
 Of everlasting worth in heavenly realms. 
 
 But you, mv friends, need not the poet s song 
 To inspire Your faith, and turn vour eves toward heaven, 
 While one, who from vour household lately passed, 
 Seems to stand beckoning from bevond the cold 
 Black stream that parts us from the immortal shore. 
 Filling your daily thoughts and nightly dreams 
 With invitations eloquent and sweet, 
 To follow whither she has gone to dwell. 
 Nor need YOU to be taught, that over all
 
 VERSES WRITTEN FOR MR. AND MRS. H. 
 
 The woes, the wrongs, the wretchedness of earth, 
 Eternal Mercy sits, disposing all, 
 And leading those that put their trust in God, 
 Through all the storms, and all the desert ways 
 That lie between them and their home in heaven. 
 And the same mercy takes away, that gives : 
 And takes an earthly treasure, but to give 
 One of eternal worth. And we shall know 
 Hereafter, that He hath done all things well. 
 
 Accept, my friends, mv Christmas offering: 
 These verses, which, though they may not contain 
 Much to instruct or to console, may yet 
 Afford some pleasure, and a little use 
 Perform, for friendship s sake, when all without, 
 Cold Winter s bleak, unfriendly aspect wears. 
 And if we seldom meet each other here, 
 Still let us hope that we may stand together, 
 In the great congregation of the souls 
 Redeemed from earth, with robes njade white and clean. 
 Immortal brethren, in the Lord s New Heaven. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR A LADY BY REQUEST. 
 
 THOU askest of my poverty a gift; 
 Thou askest of my broken harp a song : 
 Of the disconsolate and the bereft 
 
 Thou askest words of comfort for the strong.
 
 AVJJITTEX FOK A LADY J?Y IJEQUEST. 
 
 Yet I am not so poor as they whose hands 
 Are full of" gold, without a heart to give. 
 
 Let me not grudge their houses and their lands. 
 While in sweet peaee of conscience I may live. 
 
 What shall I say then? lie gives best who knows 
 
 That all he has is only lent on trust; 
 That all. and more than all. to God he owes; 
 
 Nor less, to man, his dntv to be just. 
 
 Wouldst thou find strength in time of trouble? ask 
 Of Him who gives thee all thou eall st thine own, 
 
 And with the daily gift, the daily task ; 
 And leave the morrow to His care alone. 
 
 NATURE WORSHIP. 
 
 HOW sweet a jov the love of Nature 
 Inspired within mv youthful breast! 
 With new delights each blooming feature 
 Of her fair face my heart impressed. 
 
 1 low wondrously of Him who made her 
 So strangely fair, I thought and felt! 
 
 With reverence deeper still and gladder, 
 Before the Lord of all I knelt.
 
 NATURE WORSHIP. 
 
 Then sweet-voiced Science came to show me 
 What mysteries lay in Nature s heart : 
 
 In everything above below me, 
 I learned to trace divinest art. 
 
 Alas! amid the endless treasures 
 Of Nature s ever glorious show, 
 
 I quite forgot my noblest pleasure, 
 Mv Maker and myself to know. 
 
 The depth of sin, the height of duty, 
 The bliss of virtue, knew I not; 
 
 Enchanted by the spell of beauty, 
 The hand that gave it I forgot. 
 
 With seemingly devout emotion 
 I prayed as to a God unknown : 
 
 Alas ! how vain was my devotion ! 
 I worshipped but at Nature s throne. 
 
 The grove where loving, trustful childhood 
 With joy its heavenly Father met, 
 
 Became a dank and tangled wildwood 
 With chilling dews of error wet. 
 
 The flowers that I so dearh" cherished 
 Faded and withered where they grew: 
 
 The sweetness of their odors perished : 
 To other groves my song-birds flew.
 
 XA ITKK \VOKSIIII . 
 
 Mv heaven with roof of sparkling a/ure, 
 And golden sun, that glowed so bright, 
 
 Through childhood s summer hours of pleasure. 
 (jre\v black and storm v to mv sight. 
 
 Then, when the bow its lovelv splendor 
 Across the angry storm cloud threw. 
 
 And the parched leaves, all fresh and tender. 
 Washed bv the quickening raindrops, grew, 
 
 I recognized the heavenly token, 
 
 And saw with shame, how far mv wav 
 
 Hud turned from Him whose Word had spoken 
 Fair Nature; into life and dav; 
 
 From Him without whose heart-felt presence. 
 
 All outward jovs are fleeting things; 
 And onlv humble, meek obedience 
 
 Enduring peace and blessing brings. 
 
 YOUTH AND AGE. 
 
 STAY with me, Youth. I cried, and fill me up 
 The measure of thv beautv and thv bliss. 
 Prolong thv cool and fragrant, morning hours: 
 Keep fresh the dewv blossoms of thy prime.
 
 YOUTH AND AGE. 
 
 Let not the promises which thou hast made 
 
 Of good to come, prove vain and flattering dreams. 
 
 Leave me not yet to wrinkles and grey hairs. 
 
 But Youth replied, I may not stay with thee. 
 Unless I leave thee, Wisdom cannot come : 
 And she hath better gifts for thee than mine. 
 My joys are but as feasts at wayside inns ; 
 Hers, the delights of dear and happy home, 
 After the journey and the toil are past. 
 Unless my blossoms fade away and die, 
 No fruit shall ripen for thy Autumn store, 
 No harvest for thy Winter s bread be reaped. 
 
 So Youth departed ; and so Age came on ; 
 My brow was wrinkled and my head grew grey. 
 And Wisdom, where was she? I cannot tell. 
 With senses dulled and numbed, decrepit limbs, 
 And shattered memory, I can but wait, 
 Hoping to see my silver purged from dross, 
 The chaff and tares all winnowed from my wheat, 
 When I have laid mortality aside. 
 
 AFFLICTIONS, BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE. 
 
 A 
 
 S above the darkest storm-cloud 
 Shines the sun, serenely bright,
 
 AFFLICTIONS, BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE. !)7 
 
 Waiting to restore to Nature 
 All the glory of his light, 
 
 So, behind each cloud of sorrow, 
 
 So, in each affliction, stands 
 Mid, an angel, with a blessing 
 
 From the Father in his hands. 
 
 As without the tempest, pouring 
 O er the earth the welcome rain, 
 
 All were but a fruitless desert, 
 Barren sand for ripening grain, 
 
 So, if ne er a cloud of sadness 
 
 Veiled the sunshine of the soul, 
 
 If affliction s waves were never 
 Suffered o er the heart to roll, 
 
 Love and faith might fail forever 
 To bring forth their fruits of peace ; 
 
 Heaven s good seed of truth would perish 
 In a thorny wilderness. 
 
 So, with cloud and storm and tempest 
 Grows our earthly summer dim, 
 
 That the rebel heart, our Father 
 Thus may win to turn to Him. 
 
 And like Israel s tribes, we wander 
 In the desert, waste and drear, 
 13
 
 98 AFFLICTIONS, BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE. 
 
 Hungering, thirsting, faint and weary. 
 Month by month and year by year, 
 
 There we taste the wondrous manna, 
 Heavenly food by angels brought: 
 
 Quench our thirsting at the fountain 
 Of the rock which Moses smote ; 
 
 Till, (how late!) we learn the lesson, 
 Not by bread alone we live, 
 
 But by every word of blessing 
 
 Which the mouth of God doth give. 
 
 WHAT HAST THOU THOUGHT OF DEATH. 
 
 w 
 
 HAT hast thou thought of Death? 
 
 To lie enshrouded in the clay-cold cell, 
 With kindred worms unconsciouslv to dwell, 
 When thou dost yield thy breath? 
 
 Hast thou before thine eye 
 The pallid corpse, the cold sepulchral stone. 
 The mouldering dust, the bleached and rleshless bone: 
 
 Who would not dread to die ! 
 
 Oh, put this gloom away ! 
 Leave, with the spirit, in its heavenward night,
 
 WHAT HAST THOU THOUGHT OF DEATH. 
 
 This dark abode; let thy thoughts dwell in light, 
 In glory, not in clav. 
 
 The insect s radiant wings, 
 The blossoms thou hast planted o er the tomb, 
 To deck the spot with consecrated bloom, 
 
 Shall teach thec better things. 
 
 Let the light odorous flower 
 
 Lift thy thoughts upward from the darksome earth. 
 Whence its gay petals and fresh leaves had birth, 
 
 With unresisted power. 
 
 The crawling worm that wakes 
 Anew to winged life in summer air, 
 Forgets at once the sordid birth-place, where 
 
 The narrow cell he breaks. 
 
 Forget thou thus the tomb, 
 As they, who leave its darkness far behind, 
 And in the fragrant heavenlv gardens bind 
 
 Wreath of immortal bloom. 
 
 And glimpses of their light, 
 Like coming morning radiance, shall illume 
 The clouds that hangs Death s narrow way with gloom, 
 
 Even to thy mortal sight.
 
 THE MAPLE TREE. 
 
 UNDER the Maple in early Spring, 
 When first the blue-bird begins to sing! 
 See him ! he s perched on the topmost spray ; 
 He s thinking of building a nest some day. 
 
 Under the Maple on the hill, 
 
 Over the brook that turns the mill ; 
 
 It stands by itself, and overlooks 
 
 The village, the cornfields, the meadows and brooks. 
 
 Wide it stretched its knotty arms, 
 
 Pointing each way o er the neighbor s farms ; 
 
 Its trunk is larger than you and I 
 
 Could reach around, if we both should try. 
 
 Under the Maple all red with bloom, 
 Come, when the south wind is blowing; come 
 When the sky is blue, and the golden ray 
 Of the April sunshine is warm as Mav.
 
 THE 3IAPLE TREE. 101 
 
 Sweet is the scent of the Maple flower. 
 
 When the fields are brown and leafless the bower: 
 
 And the violet buds are sleeping still 
 
 In their snug green chambers beside the hill. 
 
 Come for a nosegay to-day; for few 
 Are the days in April so warm and blue ; 
 To-morrow, the cold north-east may blow, 
 With its clouds and rain, with its sleet and snow. 
 
 Under the Maple again ! Tis May ; 
 And the little blue butterfly s out at play; 
 There are field flowers now, and the busy bee 
 Has begun her work for the Spring, you see. 
 
 The maple blossoms are gone; but now 
 Green leaf-buds are bursting oil every bough ; 
 And the thrush and the robin are singing with glee 
 Among the limbs of the Maple tree. 
 
 The gladdest sunshine of all the vear 
 Falls when the fresh green lea- es appear, 
 And twinkles and flashes from every spray, 
 As the soft May winds with the branches play. 
 
 Under the Maple when Summer has come, 
 With her clover-fields sweet and her roses in bloom : 
 And the leaves are so green and so thick overhead, 
 Like a tent in the summer heat outspread.
 
 THE MAPLE TREE. 
 
 When the sun is high and the sky is clear, 
 The farmer s cattle that pasture near, 
 Love to come and lie down in the shade, 
 So cool and green, by the maple made. 
 
 And the nests of the birds are so snugly hid 
 The clustering maple-boughs amid, 
 That the sharpest eyes in vain will look 
 For the shining eggs in their leafy nook. 
 
 Under the Maple when Autumn is here, 
 Come, when the sky is bright and clear, 
 And the forests, like royal tents, are spread 
 With curtains of purple and gold and red. 
 
 And the Maple tree, with his crimson crown, 
 Looks on the white, ripe cornfields down ; 
 And the pale wild asters, white and blue. 
 Bend with the heavy Autumn dew. 
 
 Come while tis sunny and warm and bright. 
 And the fields look glad in the mellow light: 
 For the cold, black frost will soon be here, 
 With death to each blossom so sweet and dear. 
 
 And the storm-wind will scatter all thick around. 
 The rosy leaves on the frosted ground ; 
 And the maple boughs will swing gaunt and bare, 
 In the sullen gusts of the wintry air.
 
 BEYOND THE GATE. 
 
 I KNOW the wav is rough and weary; 
 The evening clouds look dark and dreary 
 That gather where we sit and wait: 
 But every moment brings us nearer 
 A morning where the sky is clearer, 
 A brighter home than this, and dearer; 
 And there is rest beyond the gate. 
 
 One Winter more has just passed o er us : 
 Another Spring lies close before us, 
 
 With promise sweet of song and bloom. 
 () childish jov in vernal flowers! 
 I low oft the chilling tempest lowers 
 O er Spring s green fields and budding bowcr> 
 
 And shades the sunnv day with gloom ! 
 
 But in that happier country whither 
 
 We turn our eves, no storm-clouds gather. 
 
 Nor frosts the tender bloom destroy. 
 Into thy fold. Good Shepherd, lead us: 
 In green and heavenly pastures feed us; 
 Safe through the lonely journey speed us, 
 
 Home to the mansions of thy joy.
 
 WHAT HAVE I DONE. 
 
 w 
 
 r HAT have I done! 
 
 With retrospect as honest as I can, 
 My brief day s work attentively I scan. 
 What deeds of love to God, or good to man? 
 Low in the West I see the setting sun ; 
 What have I done? 
 
 What have I done, 
 
 To cause me joy that such a chance was given 
 To take yet one step further on towards heaven ? 
 What done amiss, that needs to be forgiven? 
 Bear witness for me, O departing sun ; 
 
 What have I done? 
 
 What have I done? 
 Tis all recorded in the eternal book; 
 Who without dread upon its leaves may look ? 
 I must give up again the charge I took. 
 How have I done, O conscience, let me ask, 
 
 This earthly task.
 
 WHAT HAVE I DOXE? 105 
 
 "Pis almost done ; 
 
 Father, thou knowest whether well or ill ; 
 If I in anything have done thy will. 
 What can I more, my errand to fulfil, 
 Ere the last sands of ebbing life are run? 
 
 Twill soon be done. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 SO Autumn, thou art come ! 
 I love the mildness of thine early breath, 
 So gently whispering, as it tells the death 
 
 Of lovely Summer s bloom. 
 
 Yet thou hast thine own flowers 
 All thickly scattered by the traveller s way ; 
 Lavish of purple and of gold are they; 
 
 While all the forest bowers 
 
 Will soon be gaily dressed 
 In many-colored garments, richer far 
 Than coronation robes of monarchs are. 
 
 And then will sink to rest 
 
 The leaves and blossoms down 
 To mother earth; and we will not lament 
 The fading of that beauty, only lent 
 
 To arnish Autumn s crown.
 
 106 AUTUMN. 
 
 Tis soft and balmy now, 
 Like Spring in Italy, as poets tell; 
 As though the south wind had a magic spell, 
 
 To deck the green hills brow 
 
 Again with vernal gems, 
 To bid the sere leaf freshen on the tree, 
 And birds renew their May-time jubilee 
 
 Amid the blossoming stems. 
 
 Vain dream ! Enjoy awhile 
 
 The enchanted scene; witch-hazel blossoms pale 
 A little longer scent the Autumnal gale, 
 
 And blue fringed gentians smile 
 
 To the October sun, 
 A lonely aster here and there remains, 
 Till keener frosts and cold Nos-ember rains 
 
 Have vanquished every one. 
 
 MESSIAH. 
 
 WHEN o er the earth a fearful night its veil of darkness 
 spread, 
 
 And scarce a single trembling star its feeble lustre shed, 
 To light the path that here and there a lonesome traveller 
 trod, 
 
 Who sought, with slow and doubtful step, the temple of his 
 God,
 
 MESSIAH. 107 
 
 When over almost every eye had fallen the sleep of death. 
 And cheerless and forlorn, the weary nations sat beneath 
 The clouds of darkness that concealed the light which once 
 
 had shone 
 
 Upon the earth with glory long forgotten and unknown, 
 A voice came from the wilderness, "Prepare, prepare the wav 
 For Him who comes to bring again the light of heavenly 
 
 day ; 
 Before Him let the mountains bow; each crooked wav make 
 
 straight; 
 
 Exalt the valleys where he comes to enter Zion s gate. 
 Repent ye, for the harvest time of all the earth is near; 
 The Husbandman to gather in His sheaves will soon appear: 
 Repent, and bring forth worthy fruits for Him who comes to 
 
 see 
 
 If there be grapes upon his vine or figs upon his tree." 
 So taught the appointed messenger, w r ho, as Elias, came, 
 The advent of the Son of God in Israel to proclaim. 
 Hear, Judah ! hear, Jerusalem ! the glad announcement hear! 
 The prophet ye have waited for will soon on earth appear. 
 The promised heir to David s throne, your Saviour and your 
 
 king, 
 
 To the imprisoned and the bound deliverance comes to bring; 
 Strength to the feeble he shall give, and soundness to the lame ; 
 The sick and wounded shall be healed; the dumb confess his 
 
 name ; 
 
 The deaf and heavy ear, unstopped, rejoice to hear his word ; 
 The blind, with open eyes, shall see the glory of the Lord.
 
 108 MESSIAH. 
 
 Peace, not heaven-born, but as of death, reigned o er the 
 
 waiting earth, 
 
 In that dark hour which gave the long-desired Messiah birth : 
 As though the powers of hell had thought that all was over 
 come, 
 
 The last good angel fled, so Eden now might be their home ; 
 And having laid aside their arms and warfare for a while, 
 Sat down upon the ruined world to rest and share the spoil. 
 Then came the Lord of glory down, to bring salvation near, 
 That men, who were about to die, his living word might hear. 
 He veiled his glory in a cloud, that mortal eyes might see 
 His face and live, who came from sin and death to set them free. 
 He came, but not with regal pomp, and not with martial train, 
 Deliverance from the Roman yoke for Israel s sons to gain ; 
 Not to exalt the proud in heart, who dared, with impious 
 
 praise, 
 To flatter Him who from the heavens beheld their crooked 
 
 ways. 
 
 Their fathers bowed to wood and stone, and with the proph 
 ets blood, 
 Whose word they would not hear, defiled the land on which 
 
 they stood ; 
 
 Yet, unrepented and unwept their fathers deeds of shame, 
 With solemn rite and lip devout, they invoked Jehovah s 
 
 name, 
 
 And vainly dreamed that to their race he would again restore 
 The majesty and kingdom to be theirs forevermore ; 
 Yea, that himself, as David s son, on David s throne should sit,
 
 MESSIAH. 100 
 
 And all the world should there bestow their honors at his feet. 
 
 He came but they who had despised his prophets and his 
 
 word, 
 
 Refused to own him as their King, to adore him as their Lord ; 
 They saw not in his humble guise, his meek and sorrowful 
 
 face, 
 
 The love which stooped to seek the lost and win the rebel race 
 And though they saw him heal the sick and cause the dead 
 
 to live, 
 
 Acknowledged not his power divine, the sinner to forgive; 
 But with an impious scorn ascribed to demons from below, 
 The glory which a God alone upon him could bestow. 
 An outlawed miscreant s release, instead of his, they claim, 
 And give him to a felon s death of agony and shame. 
 Earth, fear and tremble, for the deeds that are upon thee 
 
 done ! 
 
 Veil thee with night and be ashamed, O thou astonished sun ! 
 Wonder and be amazed, O heavens, at guilt so deep and 
 
 dread ! 
 
 At mercj so divine and large, that bows the Saviour s head 
 All patiently to shame and death to death that he may take 
 Immortal power, the bars of death forevermore to break. 
 Rejoice ye saints and shout, for your deliverer is at hand! 
 The Captain of the heavenly hosts, almighty to command, 
 Has fought with death and conquered hell, and now ascends 
 
 to reign 
 In heaven, and there the throne of truth forever to maintain ;
 
 110 MESSIAH. 
 
 Forever to defend and save, with his right hand of might. 
 All those that put their trust in him and in his law delight. 
 
 THE WEARY WAY. 
 
 O HOLLOW, soulless pomp which deck* 
 The sordid pageants that pass bj, 
 While the sad heart with longing breaks. 
 For food which can its needs supply. 
 
 Nothing this emptiness can fill 
 
 But bread of heaven ; naught that thirst 
 Can quench, but the refreshing rill 
 
 Which neath the tree of life doth burst. 
 
 Hungering and thirsting, on we wend 
 
 Our dark and solitary way, 
 Knowing not where our steps to bend, 
 
 But longing for the dawn of day. 
 
 In storm and weariness we tread 
 Our path of sorrow, while around 
 
 False lights their meteor lustre shed, 
 Eyes dim with watching to confound. 
 
 We falter, fall; an angel s hand 
 Lifts us; an angel s voice we hear:
 
 THE WEARY WAY. Ill 
 
 "Mercy shall guide you to the land 
 Of heavenly rest be of good cheer." 
 
 Our Lord is always near to save, 
 
 When least of all \ve feel his power; 
 
 Even the dark midnight of the grave 
 lie makes a joyful triumph hour. 
 
 For then our everlasting home 
 
 We find, where sighing and distress. 
 
 And night and darkness, cannot come; 
 But the bright sun of Righteousness 
 
 Shall bless us with eternal day, 
 All in its noontide light revealed, 
 
 For which we now but hope and pray ; 
 The fount of heaven s delight unsealed. 
 
 TO DR. DEAN S EAGLE. 
 
 PROUD bird of freedom ! ah, is this your fate, 
 To lurk about the Doctor s barn and wait 
 For whatsoever comes within vour way, 
 Whether tis lawful or unlawful prey? 
 They say you clear the yard of mice and rats, 
 And sometimes pounce upon unlucky cats, 
 And though unable to procure the dish
 
 112 TO DR. DEAN S EAGLK. 
 
 Yourself, you like to dine or sup on fish. 
 Like a dilapidated turkey, there 
 You stand and meditate on what you were, 
 When you were able to enjoy the fun 
 Of soaring high, and looking at the sun, 
 Of going out a-fishing when you please, 
 And roosting nightly on the tallest trees; 
 Not even dreaming that a broken wing 
 Such sad disgrace upon your pride would bring, 
 And hold you bound, spite of your noble birth, 
 A hapless prisoner close to mother earth. 
 But I am much afraid you have no claim, 
 At least no just one, to the praise and fame 
 Bestowed upon you in orations, made 
 With less regard for truth than for parade; 
 Or song of poets, crammed with flattering lies 
 About "Jove s bird, " the favorite of the skies. 
 In fact, T don t believe a single word 
 Of what the poets say, you ugly bird, 
 About your greatness. My opinion is, 
 (With due regard for personalities,) 
 That of all feathered fowl that ever flew, 
 There can t be found a meaner thief than you. 
 Others, besides me, think twas a mistake, 
 When Uncle Sam decided you to take 
 To be his armor-bearer. But, you see, 
 Rome had the eagle, therefore, so must we. 
 But of this matter there s another view,
 
 TO DR. BEAN S EAGLE. 113 
 
 Which makes it quite appropriate that you, 
 
 In your capacity should represent 
 
 A bold, audacious, thievish government, 
 
 Which once made prey of Texas, and which would 
 
 Steal Canada and Cuba, if it could. 
 
 I don t assert this latter view is just; 
 
 But those who like can take it, upon trust. 
 
 And now, perhaps vou ll think I ve said enough; 
 
 So good-b_v to vour eagleship : I m off. 
 
 THE APPLE TREE. 
 
 SOME praise the oak with its branches of iron, 
 That weathers the storms of a century through, 
 And still seems as fresh as when only a sapling, 
 It stood in spring garments all verdant and new. 
 
 And some praise the laurel, whose green boughs o ershadow 
 The foreheads of poets and nobles and braves; 
 
 And some the chaste willow, so gracefully drooping, 
 That weeps in sad beauty o er tear-hallowed graves. 
 
 And some the green cedar of Lebanon honor. 
 
 So noble a tree and so worthy of fame, 
 Which the wisest of monarchs in Israel once hallowed, 
 
 A temple to build to Jehovah s great name. 
 15
 
 114 THE APPLE TREE. 
 
 But let me to a tree of more humble pretensions, 
 Though none the less useful, give honor in verse; 
 
 The tree of the household, the pride of the orchard, 
 The apple tree s praises I fain would rehearse. 
 
 The sweet blooming apple-tree, motherly apple-tree; 
 
 What a rich burden in Autumn it bears; 
 Not like the pine or the ash or the cedar, 
 
 Lifting their fruitless tops up toward the stars, 
 
 But spreading so widely its well-laden branches, 
 With fruit for man s using all humbly it stands, 
 
 And asks but for hearts that are filled with thanksgiving 
 For the gifts it brings forth from Heaven s bountiful hands. 
 
 Come, join with me then in the apple-tree s praises, 
 
 So worthy, and yet how neglected in song ! 
 While the rose, charming only by perishing beauty, 
 
 Is sung by all poets, extolled by each tongue. 
 
 Yet the apple-tree s bloom is as lovely in Spring-time. 
 
 And sweet as the rose that the poets extol : 
 While the rose-bush, in view of the fruit-laden orchard. 
 
 In Autumn stands lone and neglected by all.
 
 CHRISTMAS VERSES FOR A NEW CHURCH 
 MINISTER. 
 
 OCOLD and cheerless Winter night, 
 That gave the babe of Bethlehem birth ! 
 O welcome, host of angels bright, 
 
 That sing of love and peace on earth ! 
 O welcome, heavenly star, that tells 
 Where the descended Saviour dwells! 
 
 Go, servant of your Lord : proclaim 
 The joyful message far and wide : 
 
 Salvation in the wondrous name 
 
 Of him who bore the cross and died, 
 
 And burst the bondage of the grave, 
 
 And rose with power divine to save. 
 
 Go, preach that all the painted lies 
 That cover guilt and wrong to-day, 
 
 Hypocrisy s and crime s disguise, 
 Shall by and by be swept away; 
 
 And Truth s glad morning, clear and bright, 
 
 Dispel the shades of Winter night.
 
 116 CHRISTMAS VERSES. 
 
 Go, prophesy the Spring-time near, 
 The Summer dav of Love at hand. 
 
 When earth s broad fields shall bloom and bear 
 A heavenly harvest, and the land 
 
 Which war defiled with blood-stains, be 
 
 Green with the peaceful olive tree. 
 
 SIMILITUDES. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER, who in the calm sublime 
 Of meditation, on the mountain top 
 Dost sit, descend: and if upon the heaven 
 Which thou hast dwelt so near, thou may st have read 
 A truth which it were good for us to love, 
 Bring it, and labor with us in the work 
 Of making it our own and thine forever. 
 
 The sunlight silvers o er the mountain peaks 
 With heaven-like splendor; but the upper air 
 \Vhich fans their bald acclivities, is chill 
 With frost of endless winter; and the clouds 
 Which girdle them around with shining belts, 
 Float there on icy wings, and scatter snows 
 And biting hail out from their fleecy folds; 
 But when they seek the vales below, dissolve 
 In genial showers, or pour in rivulets down
 
 SIMILITUDES. 
 
 The mountain side, to water all the mead. 
 And bless the labors of the tiller s hand. 
 Then first the crystal waters feel the glow t 
 Of the warm sun, beneath whose golden beams 
 I nveiled, they seemed, in clouds, to hang so near. 
 
 Xor shall the truth on which thou dost but ga/e, 
 
 As on the breaking of the morning o er 
 
 The purpled tops of distant mountains, be 
 
 Filled with the warmth of love, till thou hast learned 
 
 To use if in love s service. It shall then 
 
 He wings for thee, to bear thee onward still 
 
 To fields of new delight; and thou shalr warm 
 
 The life-blood of thy spirit with the toil 
 
 Of joyous flight, and gather, like the bee, 
 
 Celestial nectar from each earth-born flower. 
 
 And the gay hues with which the sunbeam paints 
 
 The floating clouds, that margin round the tent 
 
 Of heaven, are like imagination s dreams, 
 
 Forever changing with the changing hours. 
 
 But when the clouds pour down their watery stores. 
 
 And the glad sun looks forth, behold the bow. 
 
 That binds the changing colors to the form 
 
 Of heavenly order, as the Maker s hand 
 
 Once placed them, when he blessed the earth anew, 
 
 And gave the world the promise of his grace.
 
 THE WILD FLOWERS. 
 
 PALE blossoms, ye appear 
 Not in the pageant hues, 
 Nor with the fragrant breath, 
 The garden s favorites bear; 
 But silently the dews, 
 On the untrodden heath, 
 Into your small bells pour the trembling tear. 
 
 How sweetly do ye look. 
 When breathes the warm south wind 
 Upon the budding earth, 
 From every sunlit nook, 
 Where close ye lay enshrined, 
 Rejoicing to come forth, 
 And smile by hill-side, meadow, bank and brook. 
 
 Ye make the solitude 
 Glad, as ye cluster there ; 
 And gracefully ye bend 
 In green and lonely wood,
 
 THE WILD FLOWERS. 119 
 
 And through the summer air 
 Your faint, sweet odors send 
 From everv spot which Spring with beautv hath renewed. 
 
 Ye are like those who dwell 
 Far from the busy crowd, 
 To whom the books of fame 
 Are sealed ; yet who can tell 
 Of sweetest joys bestowed 
 By conscience void of blame, 
 Of peace earth cannot give, nor all its storms dispel. 
 
 TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 
 
 A NOTIIER vear is added to the sum 
 -\. Of years that measure our brief sojourn here. 
 Like and yet various, as they swiftly pass. 
 Eacli changing season brings its hopes and fears, 
 Its cares and labors, its delights and joys. 
 But oft, the sorrows and the cares appear 
 To outweigh the joys and the delights we find ; 
 And we grow wcarv of the tiresome round 
 Of labors, seeming endlessly the same. 
 Step after step secures no new advance ; 
 No happier prospect opens with the dawn 
 Of the new dav; vear after vear glides by.
 
 120 TO-DAY AXD TO-MORROW. 
 
 And leaves us at the end as far removed 
 
 From what we toiled and labored most to gain, 
 
 As at the first. How mean a thing! sayest thou, 
 
 What wretchedness is life ! But think again. 
 
 Hast thou no treasures of experience gained? 
 
 No wisdom from the lessons of the year, 
 
 Which Providence has set as in a book 
 
 Before thee? Hast thou never raised thy sight 
 
 Above the earth on which thy footsteps rest; 
 
 Nor looked beyond the narrow lines which bound 
 
 The acres of thy father s heritage, 
 
 Bevond the horizon of this mortal sphere, 
 
 Which thou must soon forsake? Forsake for what? 
 
 Learn, if thou hast not learned, that thou art here 
 
 Only a scholar in the art of life : 
 
 The eternal morrow shall thy freedom be, 
 
 Where thou shalt gather and enjoy the fruit 
 
 Of all thy toil, if thou hast learned aright. 
 
 And wisely done the duties of to-day. 
 
 But if, like idle, truant scholars, thou 
 
 Hast loitered all away thy golden hours, 
 
 And played at hide and seek with Folly, while 
 
 Thou should st have companied with Wisdom, what 
 
 Reward but that of Folly canst thou hope ?
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 DESCEND, celestial charity, and breathe, 
 With thy reviving warmth, upon a world 
 Ot wretchedness and woe, that knows thee not. 
 Wake its lethargic slumberers from the dreams 
 That steal their reason, and delude their sense 
 With selfish fantasies and idle hopes; 
 Wake them to see thy loveliness, to feel 
 Thy power to bless, and own thoti art divine. 
 Breathe, as the south wind breathes in time of Spring, 
 On the cold winter scene that sin hath made 
 Of Eden s blooming garden, and release 
 From the stern bondage of the frost the streams 
 That watered it, and send them forth again 
 I pon their joyous errand. Lei thy smile 
 Visit the desolate and leailess bowers 
 Of Paradise, and from the slumbering buds 
 The gentle de\\ s and rains of heaven shall call 
 The tender leaves, and bid the fragrant flowers 
 With promise of celestial fruit expand. 
 1 6
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 Then from their distant pilgrimage the birds 
 Shall come, and build among the verdant boughs. 
 And sing their loves, and fill the vernal woods 
 With hymns of joy and gladness. Then again 
 Man shall return and dwell there, and shall see 
 To read in every green and living thing, 
 The name of Him who formed it, and shall hear 
 In all the songs, "the Lord Jehovah liveth." 
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 An imitation or free translation of Schiller s poem, entitled "Sehnsucht, 
 (Longing.) 
 
 HOW lovely in the sunlight stand 
 The green hills of the blessed land! 
 What heavenly peaceful music strains 
 Gladden its happy groves and plains! 
 
 O how refreshing is the air 
 That breathes upon the dwellers there ! 
 What fragrances the zephyrs bring 
 From gardens of immortal Spring! 
 
 What rich balsamic fruits are seen 
 Glowing amid the youthful green,
 
 TIIK TKMPTATIOX. 
 
 The freshness of whose summer hour 
 Fears no destroying Winter s power! 
 
 O that those blissful bowers might be 
 A shelter and a home for me ! 
 Had I but wings, those hills of light 
 Should soon arrest my eager flight. 
 
 Vain wish ! no wings could bear thee o er 
 The seas which part thee from that shore. 
 On its fierce billows thou must ride; 
 The beating of its storms abide. 
 
 Yet venture boldlv. They alone 
 Who venture life, win Virtue s crown. 
 She gives no pledge; no faithless heart 
 Finds in her paradise a part.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR S LIFE, 
 
 THE PARABLE OF LOVE, 
 
 VISIT TO MY OLD HOME, 
 
 HEAVENLY MINISTRATIONS. 
 
 28 
 THE LIGHT OF LIFE, 
 
 HEAVENLY WELCOME. 
 
 ON THE RIGHT HAND, 
 
 VIOLET BUDS, 
 
 HOPE, 
 
 SONG OF THE RED LILY. 3 C 
 
 FCR A CLERGYMAN S ALBUM, 
 
 THE MORNING STAR, 
 
 THE SEED OF KNOWLEDGE, 
 
 HOPE AND SPRING,
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 TIME is MONEY, . - 45 
 
 THE FOREST TEMPLE, - A(> 
 
 THE FLOWER GARDEN, 48 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN S GARDEN, - 50 
 
 THE NEW JERUSALEM, 52 
 
 THE MOURNER S HOPE, - - 53 
 
 BUDS, . . 54 
 
 THE LEAVES AND THE BLOSSOMS, - - - 55 
 
 CONSOLATION, " 57 
 
 LEARNING AND LIFE, - - rp 
 
 THE OLD ORCHARD, 62 
 
 MY INHERITANCE, - g- 
 
 TRUE LIFE, 67 
 
 THE WORSHIP OF LIFE, - 68 
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SPRING, - - - 72 
 
 A VISION OF HOPE, ~ - 73 
 
 LOVE, - . . 74 
 
 PROGRESS, ... *.,- 
 
 THE CHILD AND THE SEASONS, ... ^ 
 
 PARNASSUS, - - . . o 
 
 THE DEPARTED, - ... Q I 
 
 INNOCENCE, ---... 82 
 
 SPRING FLOWERS, - - . 83
 
 CONTENTS. Ill 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 THE PRICE OF LOVE, - 85 
 
 NATURE, 86 
 
 SUNSHINE, 87 
 
 HOME IN THE WOODS. 89 
 
 WRITTEN FOR A LADY BY REQUEST, 92 
 
 NATURE WORSHIP, 93 
 
 YOUTH AND AGE, 95 
 
 AFFLICTIONS, BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE, 96 
 
 WHAT HAST THOU THOUGHT OF DEATH, - 98 
 
 THE MAPLE TREE, - 100 
 
 BEYOND THE GATE. - 103 
 
 WHAT HAVE I DONE. 104 
 
 AUTUMN, 105 
 
 MESSIAH, 106 
 
 THE WEARY WAY, no 
 
 To DR. DEAN S EAGLE, in 
 
 THE APPLE TREE, 113 
 
 CHRISTMAS VERSES FOR A NEW CHURCH MINISTER, 115 
 
 SIMILITUDES, 116 
 
 THE WILD FLOWERS, 118 
 
 TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. - 120 
 
 CHARITY, 121 
 
 THE TEMPTATION. - - - 122
 
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