University of California Berkeley 
 
 Purchased from the 
 MICHAEL REESE BEQUEST 
 
MAGNOLIA LEAVES. 
 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY V/ESTON FORDHAM, 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTORY 
 
 BY 
 
 BOOKER T. WASHINGTON, 
 
 PRIN. TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE, 
 
 TUSKEGEE, ALA, 
 
COPYRIGHT, 
 DECEMBER IOTH, 1897. 
 
 0V 
 
 8i COGSWtU. CO 
 . S. C. 
 
HOME OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 I give my cordial endorsement to this little ' ' Book 
 of Poems, ' ' because I believe it will do its part to 
 awaken the Muse of Poetry which I am sure slumbers 
 in very many of the Sons and Daughters of the Race 
 of which the Author of this work is a representative. 
 
 The Negro's right to be considered worthy of 
 recognition in the field of poetic effort is not now 
 gainsaid as formerly, and each succeeding effort but 
 emphasizes his right to just consideration. 
 
 The hope, I have, is, that this Volume of ''Poems" 
 may fall among the critical and intelligent, who will- 
 accord the just meed of praise or of censure, to the 
 end that further effort may be stimulated, no matter 
 what the verdict. 
 
 The readers I trust will find as much to praise and 
 admire as have I done. 
 
 BOOKER T. WASHINGTON, 
 Prin. Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute^ 
 
 Tuskegee, Ala., December 6th, 1897. 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 This little volume is launched on the doubtful sea 
 of literature with the hope that the breezes of public 
 opinion may give an impetus to its voyage. I hope 
 that it will be kindly received as simply the harbinger 
 of what may be expected from the generations to 
 come; and shall consider its mission as being fulfilled 
 if it should be the means of arousing and stimulating 
 some of our youth to higher and greater efforts along 
 this line. 
 
 Commending it to an intelligent and impartial crit- 
 icism, 
 
 I am, respectfully, 
 
 THE AUTHOK. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 TO 
 MRS. S. S. FORBES, 
 
 OF 
 
 MASSACHUSETTS, 
 
 AND 
 Miss FLORIDE CUNNINGHAM, 
 
 OF 
 
 SOUTH CAROLINA, 
 
 THESE "LEAVES" 
 
 ARE RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 BY THE* AUTHOR. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Creation 14 
 
 Shipwreck 16 
 
 The Washerwoman 17 
 
 The Snow Drop 19 
 
 The Saxon Legend of Language 20 
 
 The Christ Child 22 
 
 Bells of St. Michael 23 
 
 The Exile's Reverie 25 
 
 The Snow Storm 27 
 
 Maiden and River 28 
 
 Chicago Exposition Ode 30 
 
 Atlanta Exposition Ode 32 
 
 Stars and Stripes 34 
 
 To the Eagle 35 
 
 The Crucifixion 3(> 
 
 IT ramie 37 
 
 Magnolia 44 
 
 To my Mother 47 
 
 "Nestle Down" Cottage 48 
 
 Mother's Recall 49 
 
 To Right Rev. D. A. Payne 51 
 
 October. . .52 
 
10 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 t PAGE. 
 
 The Dying Girl 53 
 
 Alaska 55 
 
 Parting with a Friend 57 
 
 Twilight Musings 58 
 
 Song to Erin 59 
 
 The Valentine 60 
 
 Lines to Florence 61 
 
 By the Rivers of Babylon 63 
 
 The Pen 63 
 
 Passing of the Old Year 65 
 
 Sonnet to my First born 67 
 
 Lines to - - 68 
 
 Highland Mary 69 
 
 The Cherokee . 70 
 
 Rally Song 72 
 
 Serenade 73 
 
 The Coming Woman 74 
 
 Ode to Peace 75 
 
 A Reverie 77 
 
 Sunset 78 
 
 The Past 79 
 
 Marriage 80 
 
 For Who ? 80 
 
 June 81 
 
 Tribute to Lost Steamer 83 
 
 A Requiem 84 
 
 The Grafted Bud . . 85 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 11 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 To a Loved One 86 
 
 The Nativity 87 
 
 The Mock-Bird. 88 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Kevd. Samuel Weston 91 
 
 Kevd. Thaddeus Saltus 92 
 
 Tribute to Capt. F. W. Dawson 93 
 
 Mrs. Louise B. Weston 94 
 
 Mrs. Isabel Peace 95 
 
 Alphonse C. Fordham 96 
 
 Mr. Edward Fordham 97 
 
 Mrs., Jeimette Boimeau 98 
 
 Queenie 99 
 
 To an Infant 99 
 
 Susan Eugenia Bennett 100 
 
 Mrs. Eebecca Weston 101 
 
 Mrs. E. Cohrs Brown 102 
 
 Mrs. Mary Furnian Byrd 102 
 
CREATION 
 
 "The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament 
 showeth his handy work. ' ? 
 
 O Earth, adore creative power, 
 That made and gave to man as dower, 
 
 This world of beauty rare, 
 With hills and vales of verdant green, 
 With rills and brooks of crystal sheen, 
 
 Lovely beyond compare. 
 
 O Sun, bright ruler of the day, 
 
 When first thy power thou did'st display, 
 
 Earth must have shrunk in fear, 
 When like a meteor burst thy light, 
 Turning to day the long, long night, 
 
 With radiance wondrous fair. 
 
 Thou Moon, pale sister of the Sun, 
 When he his daily work has done, 
 
 Thou comest forth a queen; 
 A queen in sil\ 7 ery robe adorned, 
 With tiara of jewels formed, 
 
 Of starry orbs unseen. 
 
14 CREATION. 
 
 Ye twinkling stars of milder light, 
 Though now ye gleam like sapphires bright, 
 
 Across yon azure dome, 
 The day will dawn, that last dread day, 
 When from yon heaven you'll fall away, 
 
 And man to Judgment come. 
 
 Thunder and Lightnings burst and gleam, 
 Frightful and fierce to us they seem 
 
 Rending the darkened sky. 
 Like giants tread the thunder's peal, 
 The vivid lightnings swiftly steal, 
 
 And men in terror fly. 
 
 () filmy clouds, of purest w r hite, 
 With robes of gossamer cased in white, 
 
 Ye floating waters pure, 
 Sometimes to burst in cooling showers, 
 Sometimes to deluge wintry hoitrs 
 
 With your relentless pour: 
 
 Thou beauteous Rainbow bursting forth, 
 With varied hues encircling earth; 
 
 The sign to Noah made. 
 "I place amid the Clouds my Bow" 
 To show that I will nevermore 
 
 Deluge with angry flood. 
 
 Mountains and Hills whose snow capped tops 
 The vast horizon overlooks, 
 
CREATION. 15 
 
 Pyramids strong and sure; 
 Nor lightnings fierce nor earthquake shock 
 Can ever sway, for firm as rock 
 
 Ye ever will endure. 
 
 Thou Ocean vast, oftimes thy breast, 
 Is calm and still as if at rest, 
 
 Like one in quiet sleep; 
 But soon in anger thou inay'st roar, 
 And madly toss from shore to shore, 
 
 And human harvest reap. 
 
 Fountains and Rivulets so clear, 
 That gush amid the valleys fair, 
 
 With soft arid mellow ring; 
 As coming forth from glade and wood 
 Your babblings whisper "God is good," 
 
 Ye make the vales to sing. 
 
 Now when all nature sw T ells the song, 
 When beast and birds the strain prolong, 
 
 Shall man from praise refrain? 
 Then would the rocks and hills proclaim, 
 All nature crying out for shame, 
 They who their Maker's image wear, 
 Should shout and sing till rent the air 
 
 With rhapsodies sublime. 
 
16 SHIPWRECK. 
 
 SHIPWRECK. 
 
 Night and a starless sky, 
 Ship on wild billows tost, 
 With tattered sails and opening seams. 
 And deck bestrewn with falling beams. 
 Swift plunging to her doom. 
 
 Red lightnings round her flash, 
 Loud thunders crash and roar, 
 And the noble vessel mounts the crest 
 Of the reeking waves, then sinks to rest 
 Mid carnival of woe. 
 
 The Petrel soars aloft, 
 Wailing her hymn of death, 
 
 And the dirge like sounds pierce the blackened sky, 
 While the crew send forth one anguished cry, 
 Sinking to lowest depth. 
 
 Some ships go out to sea 
 That never more return, 
 Souls that from heaven in infancy come, 
 Tarnished and ruined by sin may become, 
 Like the Dove to the Ark they never return, 
 But sink as ship to doom. 
 
THE WASHERWOMAN. 17 
 
 THE WASHERWOMAN. 
 
 With hands all reddened and sore, 
 
 With back and shoulders low bent, 
 She stands all day, and part of the night 
 
 Till her strength is well-nigh spent. 
 With her rub rub rub, 
 
 And her wash, rinse, shake, 
 Till the muscles start and the spirit sink?, 
 
 And the bones begin to ache. 
 
 At morn when the sunbeams scatter 
 
 In rays so golden and bright, 
 She yearns for the hour of even, 
 
 She longs for the restful night. 
 Still she rubs rubs rubs, 
 
 With the energy born of want, 
 For the larder's empty and must be tilled, 
 
 The fuel's growing scant. 
 
 As long as the heart is blithesome, 
 
 Will her spirit bear her up, 
 And kindness and love imparteth a zest 
 
 To sweeten hard life's bitter cup. 
 But to toil toil toil, 
 
 From the grey of the morn till eve, 
 Is an ordeal so drear for a human to bear, 
 
 Which the rich can hardly conceive. 
 
18 THE WASHERWOMAN. 
 
 What part in the world of pleasure? 
 
 What holidays are her own? 
 For the rich reck not of privations and tears, 
 
 Saying, ' ' she is to the inanoi born . ' ' 
 So dry those scalding tears 
 
 That furrow so deeply thy cheek, 
 For rest rest rest 
 
 Will come at the end of the week. 
 
 Yes, even on earth there's a day 
 
 When labor and toil must cease, 
 The world at its birth received the mandate 
 
 Of the seventh day of rest. 
 When the sweet- toned Sabbath bells 
 
 Break o'er the balmy air, 
 Then sing sing sing 
 
 That the morning stars may hear. 
 
 For the frugal table spread, 
 
 For the crust and the humble bed, 
 When He to whom all earth belongs 
 
 Had not where to lay His head, 
 Then toil for thy daily bread, 
 
 Let thy heart like thy hands be clean, 
 And rub rub rub 
 
 Till thy bones all ache, I ween. 
 
 With hands all reddened and sore, 
 With back and shoulders bent low, 
 
 Thou hast for thy comfort that rest, sweet rest, 
 Will be found on the other shore. 
 
THE SNOWDROP. 19 
 
 Then they who've washed their souls 
 
 Will dip in the crystal tide 
 Of the fountain clear that was oped to man 
 
 From the Saviour's wounded side. 
 
 THE SNOWDROP. 
 
 How comest thou, O flower so fair, 
 To bud and bloom while wintry air 
 Still hovers o'er the land ? 
 
 How comest from the cold, dark earth? 
 That fostered thee and gave thee birth, 
 Studding thy brow with snow. 
 
 Say, didst thou yearn for sunny bowers ? 
 To gladden with thy pure, pale flowers, 
 The valley and the hill ? 
 
 Down in the darkness whence thou came, 
 Hear'st aught of passion, fashion, fame, 
 Or even greed for gold ? 
 
 And when the old earth's bosom heaves, 
 And scatters man like autumn's leaves, 
 With its low thundered voice, 
 
 Thou sleep' st serene with eyelids closed, 
 No earthquake shock breaks thy repose, 
 Till comes the breath of Spring. 
 
> THE SAXON LEGEND OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 THE SAXON LEGEND OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 The earth was young, the world was fair, 
 And balmy breezes filled the air, 
 Nature reposed in solitude, 
 When God pronounced it "very good." 
 
 The snow-capped mountain reared its head, 
 The deep, dark forests widely spread, 
 O'er pebbly shores the stream did play 
 On glad creation's natal day. 
 
 But silence reigned, nor beast nor bird 
 Had from its mate a whisper heard, 
 E'en man, God's image from above, 
 Could not, to Eve, tell of his love. 
 
 Where the four rivers met there strayed 
 The man and wife, no whit afraid, 
 For the arch-fiend expelled from heaven 
 Had not yet found his way to Eden. 
 
 But lo! a light from 'mid the tree?, 
 But hark! a rustling 'mongst the leaves, 
 Then a fair Angel from above, 
 Descending, sang his song of love. 
 
 Forth sprang the fierce beasts from their lair, 
 Bright feathered songsters fill the air, 
 All nature stirred to centre rang 
 When the celestial song began. 
 
THE SAXON LEGEND OF LANGUAGE. 2) 
 
 The Lion, monarch of the plain, 
 First tried to imitate the strain, 
 And shaking high his inane lie roared, 
 Till beast and bird around him cowered. 
 
 The little Linnet timed her lay, 
 The Lark, in turn, did welcome day, 
 And cooing soft, the timid Dove 
 Did to his mate tell of his .love. 
 
 Then Eve, the synonym of grace, 
 Drew nearer to the solemn place, 
 And heard the words to music set 
 In tones so sweet, she ne'er forgot. 
 
 The anthems from the earth so rare, 
 Higher and higher filled the air, 
 Till Seraphs caught the inspiring strain, 
 And morning stars together sang. 
 
 Then laggard Adam sauntered near, 
 What Eve had heard he too must hear, 
 But ah! for aye will woman's voice 
 Make man to sigh or him rejoice. 
 
 Only the fishes in the deep 
 
 Did not arouse them from their sleep, 
 
 So they alas! did never hear 
 
 Of the Angel's visit to this sphere. 
 
 Nor have they ever said one word 
 
 To mate or man, or beast or bird. 
 
22 THE CHRIST CHILD. 
 
 THE CHKIST CHILD. 
 
 On a starry, wintry night, 
 
 Frosty and cold was the air, 
 And the lowly vale where Bethlehem stood, 
 
 Looked bleak, and barren and bare. 
 
 Her streets deserted and dim, 
 
 Lit only by myriads of stars. 
 That with shimm'ring light illumined the night, - 
 
 Among them was fiery Mars. 
 
 Adown 'mid the valley so drear 
 
 Knelt men, in wonder and fear, 
 For lo ! in the distance a bright star had risen 
 
 Wondrously brilliant and clear. 
 
 Then an Angel's voice they heard 
 
 In heavenly tones it said, 
 To you I bring ''glad tidings of joy," 
 
 "Fear not nor be dismayed. 1 ' 
 
 Go follow that star, 'twill lead 
 
 To the Christ-child's lowly bed, 
 Though Israel's King, He sleeps in an "inn" 
 
 Where the cattle oft are fed. 
 
 Then over the humble place 
 
 Where the Royal Babe was laid, 
 Did the ' ' Star of the East, ' ' blest Bethlehem's star, 
 
 Irradiate no more to fade. 
 
BKLLS OF ST. MICHAEL. 23 
 
 ()! brightest and best they cried, 
 
 Our long promised Israel's King, 
 Shine out from afar, thou bright morning star, 
 
 To thee our offerings we bring. 
 
 Bethlehem! blest city of old 
 
 Like pilgrims to Mecca we come, 
 To thy hallowed site, on each Christmas night, 
 
 The Christ-child's humble home. 
 
 BELLS OF ST. MICHAEL. 
 
 Come and listen to the chiming 
 
 Of St. Michael's merry bells, 
 When the joyous Christmas morning, 
 
 All of Bethlehem's story tells. 
 When they sweetly chime the anthem 
 
 "Glory to be to God oti high," 
 When the children swell the chorus, 
 
 Earth to heaven seems very nigh. 
 
 On the gladsome Easter morning, 
 
 When the earliest flow'rets bloom, 
 Snowdrops pure and violets purple 
 
 Blend to scatter sweet perfume; 
 Then your happiest notes are poured forth, 
 
 Then your Jubilee is heard, 
 Pealing out in joyful accents. 
 
 Chiming, l 'God is very good." 
 
24 BELLS OF ST. MICHAEL. 
 
 From that ancient lofty turret, 
 
 O'erlooking land and sea, 
 Peals of comfort have been wafted, 
 
 Sounds of gladness o'er the lea. 
 Many a storm-tost, weary wanderer 
 
 Looked to thee as hope's bright star, 
 Listened to thy mellow chiming, 
 
 Smiling as he crossed the bar. 
 
 Ah! old bells, beneath your tolling, 
 
 Many a form lies buried low, 
 'Neath the green-sward of "God's Acre,' 
 
 Rest they, all their sorrows o'er. 
 Softly wave the bending willows, 
 
 Sweetly sing the birds their lays, 
 Whilst thy dear old bells are clanging, 
 
 They are singing hymns of praise. 
 
 Dear old bells your music thrills me, 
 
 Whether rung in joy or woe, 
 - They recall the joyous spring time 
 
 Of fond mem'ry's ' k long ago." 
 Sweetly chime through all the ages; 
 
 As time's cycles swiftly move; 
 Peal forth loudly, God is gracious; 
 
 Whisper softly, He is love. 
 
25 
 
 THE EXILE'S EEVERIE. 
 
 'Twas sunset's hour, tlie glorious day 
 Had in its beauty passed away; 
 
 The sun had bathed in golden dyes 
 This Southern land of sunny skies; 
 And crimson clouds, like birds of wing, 
 Did o'er the earth their radiance fling; 
 While zephyrs sang amid the trees, 
 And song-birds warbled to the breeze; 
 For Spring, just bursting into birth, 
 Had come once more to gladden earth. 
 
 Near Pensacola's margin, lay, 
 Laved by its never ceasing spray, 
 The exile, from his native land 
 The dweller on a foreign strand. 
 And as he lay kind thoughts of home 
 Like visions of the past did come; 
 And mem'ry's mirror pictured clear 
 The starlight of his boyhood there; 
 The hopes that clustered round his brow, 
 The shrine at w^hich he loved to bow. 
 
 He mused aloud, Oh! Italy! 
 
 Land of the chivalric, the free! 
 
 Bruce may of Scotland tune his lyre, 
 But thee alone, can'st me inspire. 
 
Birthplace of beauty! never more 
 
 Shall I behold thy vine-clad shore; 
 
 The sward where I in childhood play'd 
 The haunts deep in the forest shade 
 
 The place where, mould' ring in decay. 
 
 The ashes of a sire lay. 
 
 Why did 1 leave thee? As spring flowers 
 Return no more through summer hours 
 When once they blossom, bear and die, 
 No more will bloom neath sultry sky; 
 So heart of man when hopes have fled, 
 And love lies buried with the dead, 
 No second spring time sends one ray 
 To cheer his path through life's dark day; 
 Hope's blossoms like the early dew 
 Once passed away, naught can renew. 
 
 Still I live on, and oft, at eve 
 
 My isolated cot I leave; 
 
 Thence to this lonely nook I hie 
 To take a glance at days gone by. 
 
 Each blue wave hast'ning to its goal 
 
 (Fit type of the immortal soul) 
 In thrilling accents seems to say 
 Thou'rt nearing fast life's' closing day; 
 
 Thou soon wilt reach thy better home, 
 
 The home w r here changes never come. 
 
THE SNOW STORM. 27 
 
 THE SNOW STORM. 
 
 Gentle as a maiden's dream, 
 Softly as the gliding stream, 
 
 Falls the glittering, sparkling snow. 
 With its wealth of crystal pearls 
 Shining, pure-white coronals, 
 With its robe of silvery sheen, 
 Decking earth like virgin queen. 
 
 As the noiseless flakes descend, 
 As they downward quickly tend, 
 Floating waves of downy snow. 
 Garnered from the upper realms; 
 Harvested by unknown hands, 
 Culled from cloudland's brightest bower, 
 Sent to earth as richest dower. 
 
 Symbol pure, and emblem sweet! 
 Type of purity! 'twere meet 
 
 That many swell the strain attuned. 
 Clad with garb like angels wear 
 Robed in heaven's holiest gear 
 Pure, white snow, I welcome thee, 
 Hymning lays of minstrelsy. 
 
28 MAIDEN AND RIVER 
 
 MAIDEN AND RIVER. 
 
 MAIDEN River, why in ceaseless flow 
 Must you ripple to and fro ? 
 
 Stop a while. 
 
 Lonely on thy bank I stand, 
 On your shining, pebbly strand, 
 Canst thou not a moment stay 
 Through the long, long summer day? 
 
 Stop a while. 
 
 RIVER Child of earth dost thou not know 
 
 Ne'er can cease my endless flow? 
 
 I must go. 
 
 Onward till I reach my outlet, 
 Out beyond the golden sunset, 
 Seek not then to stay my flowing, 
 Onward still I must be going 
 
 To my goal. 
 
 MAIDEN River, when the storms are raging, 
 Wind and rain a warfare waging, 
 
 Do you fear? 
 
 When thy waves with whitened crest, 
 Toss around in wild unrest, 
 Doth thy bosom shake with fear, 
 Trembling, lest thy end is near ? 
 Say, O! say. 
 
MAIDEN AND RIVER. 29 
 
 RIVER Child, my race will ne'er be run 
 Not till yonder blazing sun 
 
 Fades away. 
 
 Look t' wards the horizon's crest, 
 See the mighty Ocean's breast, 
 Now its billowy waves are still, 
 He who says it is My will, 
 Keepeth me. 
 
 MAIDEN River, should' st thou chance to see, 
 On thy journey through the lea, 
 
 Snow white sail ? 
 Reaching out towards the clouds, 
 Quivering with its massive shrouds, 
 Touch it gently with thy arms, 
 Shield it safe from rude alarms, 
 
 It is mine. 
 
 RIVER Child of earth hast thou not heard ? 
 That He knows of beast and bird 
 
 Every hair, 
 
 Can He not then bring to tliee 
 Safe from o'er the murmuring sea. 
 Mortal child O! ne'er despair, 
 "Ship ahoy! "may greet thy ear, 
 
 Soon, ay soon. 
 
 MAIDEN River, then glide sweetly on, 
 Till thy goal is safely won, 
 
 Till at "last 
 3 
 
30 CHICAGO EXPOSITION ODE. 
 
 Thou dost hear like thunder roar, 
 Breaking from the golden shore, 
 Awful words from sacred lore, 
 Time for thee shall be no more. 
 River, farewell. 
 
 CHICAGO EXPOSITION ODE. 
 
 Columbia, all hail ! 
 
 May thy banner ne'er be furled 
 Till Liberty, with her beauteous rays, 
 
 Enlighten all the world. 
 Columbia, to thee 
 
 Erom every clime we come, 
 To lay our trophies at thy feet 
 
 Our sunbright, glorious home. 
 
 'Twas a lovely autumn morn. 
 
 And the leaves were turning red, 
 And the sturdy oaks and graceful pines 
 
 Their branches over-spread; 
 And the breezes softly swept 
 
 The hills and valleys o'er; 
 And the dew-kissed earth with incense sweet, 
 
 Crowned forest, grove and flower. 
 
CHICAGO EXPOSITION ODE. 31 
 
 On a grassy knoll near by 
 
 Where the rustling leaves were piled, 
 Knelt a mighty chief of a mighty tribe, 
 
 And his band of warriors wild. 
 For the rising sun had shown 
 
 To the trained eyes of that band, 
 That. vessels three, like white-winged birds, 
 
 Were steering straight for land. 
 
 Whence comes this stranger fleet ? 
 
 Whence hails this Pale Face crew? 
 And the chieftain's brow was wrapped in pain 
 
 As his tomahawk he drew. 
 Then, with quivering voice, he said 
 
 Some evil may betide; 
 From the land of the sky this host lias come 
 
 Let's haste to the river side. 
 
 And the warriors started forth 
 
 Like fawns through the forest trees; 
 When lo! what a wondrous, solemn sight 
 
 "Pale Faces" on tl*eir knees! 
 I^efore the Holy Cross, 
 
 Each with uncovered brow, 
 Prayed the mighty God, that His blessings e'er 
 
 Might this fair land endow. 
 
 And the stalwart braves awe-struck , 
 
 With heads bowed low on breast 
 As the veteran sailor proudly cried 
 
 San Salvador, the blest! 
 
34 STARS AND STRIPES. 
 
 ' ' Cast down your bucket, ' ' let it be 
 As water flows both full and free! 
 Let charity, that twice blest boon 
 Thy watchword be from night to morn. 
 Let kindness as the dew distil 
 To friend and foe, alike, good will; 
 Till sounds the wondrous battle-call. 
 For all one flag, one flag for all. 
 
 STAES AKD STKIPES. 
 
 Hail Flag of the Union! Hail Flag of the free! 
 That floateth so proudly o'er land and o'er sea 
 Thy Stars and thy Stripes, in grandeur doth wave 
 O'er hearts that are true and hands that are brave. 
 
 When first thy bright pennant was lifted on high, 
 When first 'twas unfolded to patriot's eye; 
 The ovation that greeted thee, rose through the air 
 Like incense from altars of hearts true and dear. 
 
 Hail Flag of our country, when thrown to the breeze 
 Thy power is acknowledged, far over the seas. 
 Thy influence so boundless, that none may deny, 
 Thy potency reaches all lands, 'iieath the sky. 
 
 Should war like a dark cloud, encircle our land, 
 With its threatening besom o'ershadow the main. 
 With head lifted high, thou would' st laugh them to 
 
 scorn 
 Who from thy tall flagstaff would try to pull down. 
 
TO THE EAGLE. 35 
 
 Long, long may thy Stripes and thy Stars proudly wave 
 O'er hearts that are true and hands that are brave, 
 And ne'er may thy children, resign to the foe 
 The Flag that was baptized, in blood long ago. 
 
 TO THE EAGLE. 
 
 Fain would I rival thee 
 
 Monarch of birds 
 Soaring so loftily 
 
 Up to the clouds! 
 Spreading thy pinions 
 
 And mounting on air, 
 Ethereally floating 
 
 Divinely and fair. 
 
 Where is thy resting place? 
 
 Where dost thou dwell? 
 Is the mountain thy home 
 
 Or the stern rock thy cell? 
 Dost thou live in the desert? 
 
 Is the forest thy lair? 
 O, where is thy resting place? 
 
 Eagle, say where? 
 
 Always tending upward 
 
 May this be my aim; 
 KVer swerving from duty 
 Or shrinking from pain. 
 
36 THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 'Tis thus would I rival thee 
 Monarch of birds, 
 
 When soaring loftily 
 Up to the clouds. 
 
 THE CKUCIFIXIOK 
 
 Why did the sun his beams conceal 
 As if unwilling to reveal 
 That deed of mankind on the day 
 When Jesus, at the altar, lay 
 A willing sacrifice. 
 
 Earth, too, in terror shook, when He 
 The Mighty, died on Calvary; 
 When for our sins He bowed His head, 
 Gave up the ghost, and quickly sped 
 To regions of the dead. 
 
 And some who had for ages long 
 Been wrapped in slumber deep and strong, 
 Awoke, and by their converse showed 
 That death no more dominion had 
 In that He died. 
 
 Why did He die? Ah! blissful thought, 
 When we near death and hell were brought, 
 He left His Father's courts above 
 O, list to such amazing love 
 And died to save. 
 
URANNE. 37 
 
 Why did He die? 'Twas love divine 
 That caused Him all things to resign 
 A heavenly choir, celestial home, 
 Exalted seat, seraphic song, 
 And all to save. 
 
 Blest thought! He reigns victorious now. 
 To whom all earth will shortly bow, 
 Let men below arid saints above 
 Wonder at such stupendous love, 
 As caused their God to die. 
 
 URANNE. 
 
 In a far off hamlet near the sea 
 Where billows oft, in days of storm, and 
 Nights of darkness rush reckless to the shore; 
 Where tall, white cliffs like watchmen keep 
 A life-long vigil; Oft when the morning 
 Sunbeams gild their lofty peaks they seem 
 Like massive crystal vases adorned with 
 Rays of gold. * 
 
 Hard-by those snowy cliffs, 
 Shielded safe from cutting winds and icy 
 Blasts, stood an humble, unpretending cot, 
 Its low, thatched roof of matted moss 
 Glimmered, when the morning sun brightened 
 Up the valley, and cast its rays aslant through 
 
38 URANNE. 
 
 The tiny windows ignorant of glass. Its well- 
 Scrubbed floor shone like polished wood; 
 And all around an air of quiet, peace and 
 Love, prevailed. 
 
 Within that cosy nest, there 
 Dwelt three loving hearts, Nay, four, for on the 
 Very morn when Christmas bells were 
 Hinging o'er the land, When children of the rich 
 And children of the poor alike, were talking 
 Of the Christ-child, and his day, Unto them a 
 Child was given, And this lovely babe, blest Christmas 
 Gift, was richly prized. E'en now she knew her 
 Father's voice, and leaped with joy at his return. 
 
 But ah! the cry of war, broke o'er the land. Cruel 
 War, that rends the households and the hearts; 
 That makes fond bosoms bleed; and waters all 
 The sod with tears, Salty, agonizing tears, which, 
 When they dry, leave furrows never healing. -- 
 Sorrows, never ceasing. 
 
 The mandate came. 
 
 Marco must go. What! leave the dear ones all 
 Alone. The gray-haired sire sunning himself 
 Without the cottage door? The little wife in 
 Blooming womanhood? The cherub who in 
 Human form had come to bless his home? 
 
URANNE. 39 
 
 Must lie leave his treasures and away to 
 Distant shores, perchance, lay down to die ? 
 O ! the thought was death itself. Yet go he 
 Must. Each day he'd wander through the glade, 
 Where every blade and tuft of grass was dear, 
 So dear. All his life from babe to manhood, 
 Here was spent. Here he grew, and loved, 
 And wedded. Here the precious Mother in her 
 Green old age had yielded to the sharp scythe 
 Of the Eeaper Death. Could he leave her? 
 
 The day of 
 
 Parting came. The sun was high when Marco 
 Kose. The cheery little table decked with snowy 
 Cloth was laid. Out from their frugal hoard 
 Came every dainty Uranne could find. 
 Naught was too good for him. The dear, the 
 Faithful ! He who had done all in human power 
 To make her life joyous. Truly, she said, as tears 
 Lingered in her eyes, ' ' My lines in pleasant places 
 Have been cast. ' ' 
 
 Well long they tarried o'er that 
 Meal. It seemed as though 'twould never end, 
 And yet they were not eating. At last the babe 
 Stretched forth its chubby hands and with 
 Infantile speech, broke up the silent meal. 
 
 Marco arose, 
 Father, adieu. Take care of these as best thou 
 
40 URANNE. 
 
 Can' st. I know the load is much too great for 
 Thee. Whose silvery hairs are whitening o'er with 
 
 Do all thou can'st and leave the rest to ''Him 
 Who notes when e'en the sparrows fall." 
 
 And now, Uranne! truest and best, I can 
 
 Not give thee any more my heart, for thou had'st 
 
 It all long ago. Thy love to me has been like 
 
 Silver lining 'mid the clouds of life. 
 
 Has opened up my heart to kindlier feelings 
 
 For all who on this earth have naught to cheer, 
 
 To solace them in hours like these. 
 
 But time doth 
 
 Fly. Whether the moments teem with joy or 
 Flit in sorrow. So Marco said, e're yet I go, 
 Take this bunch of half -blown buds and place 
 Upon your breast, near your heart, and wear 
 Them till I come. Let naught divide 'twixt 
 Thee and them. 'Mid summer's glow or winter's 
 Cold, loved one, wear them next thy heart. 
 Their very name, Forget-Me-Not, will 'mind 
 Thee of thy lover-husband. 
 
 ::- # x vs- vf # * * 
 
 Days, weeks, 
 
 Months passed by. No tidings yet had 
 Come to them, in that lone village by the sea, 
 Ofttimes the sire would hand -in-hand take 
 
URANNE. ttl 
 
 Baby for a walk "by the sad, sea waves"- 
 Tlieri would the little one pick up shells 
 And moss, and lisp so sweetly with 
 Infantile grace, that the aged form would 
 Straighten up, as if once more the fires of youth 
 Burned brightly in his veins; and his old 
 Bereaved heart would leap for joy. 
 
 Alas! when early 
 
 Spring had come, and the little snowdrops 
 Gleamed in the valley, little Bright-eyes 
 Faded and was laid beneath them. 
 O ! then the sun went down in blackness grim, 
 And the whole world seemed devoid of life; 
 Not worth living, the old man cried. And 
 Then he, too, alas! was laid beside the babe. 
 
 All through the long-, 
 
 Long summer lonely Uranne dwelt. Her heart 
 Low down beneath the Daisies. Uranne, the 
 Pride of him who now, alas ! was no more. Perchance 
 He too was sleeping in that far-off land, 
 Without a kindly hand to smooth his aching 
 Brow, or wipe from his cheeks the damp 
 Death dews. 
 
 One morning when the dew 
 Had not yet left the sodden grass, 
 She left the cot to look for her beloved. 
 
42 UKANNE. 
 
 She sat her down 'mid the dingy rocks, which 
 Girt the shore. The little ripples kissed her feet 
 Caressingly. Long she looked for a white sail, 
 To greet her tired eyes. 
 
 Marco, dost hear Uranne's 
 Call? Wilt thou no more return? My heart is 
 Breaking with its load. No longer can I wait, 
 But list! I'll w T hisper in thine ear, 
 The bine ' ' Forget-Me Nots, 
 The sw r eet Forget Me Nots" which thou 
 Did'st place upon my breast. Thou wilt see them 
 When thou com'st. None shall them remove. 
 Sweetheart, I keep them till you come. 
 
 There they found her cold 
 And stark. With hand pressed close to heart 
 Where lay her flowers. The sounding sea seemed 
 To forget to hurl its billows 'gainst the beach 
 Now white and shining. E'en the little ripples 
 Seemed to say, Uranne! And the great 
 Mountain rocks would echo back, Uranne! 
 
 Years went by. The war, the 
 Cruel war was at an end. And Peace with 
 Flowing mantle had overspread the land; 
 With anxious heart, but willing feet, the 
 Soldier started for his dear old cabin nestled 
 So snugly in the valley. Would he find them all? 
 
URANNE. 43 
 
 The dear old sire with his silvered hair Perchance 
 He had lain him down to sleep, beside the wife 
 Who had left him in his prime. 
 
 But she, the dear 
 
 Uranne, she was there, no doubt of that. A stronger, 
 Healthier lass ne'er spun the dance. 
 Then the baby, our baby. How she must have 
 Grown. Wonder if she remembers me, her own dear 
 Sire? Who oft would soothe and rock to sleep. 
 O yes; Uranne has taught her to love and lisp 
 My name. 
 
 When the proud vessel dropped her 
 Anchor in the Bay, no prouder man, nor 
 Hopeful, than was Marco. Lightly he sprang 
 Ashore. He looked to right, to left, no sign of 
 His loved ones cheered his gaze. 
 Uranne, he cried, What! no welcome for Marco? 
 ~No outstretched arms to fold me in love's embrace? 
 He tottered to the cot all overgrown with 
 Weeds and trailing vines. O! stars above write 
 On hardest stone. Desolate, forlorn alone. 
 
 Unconsciously he moved along the lane 
 That led to the old church-yard. The little 
 Tuneful bell that had pealed so joyously 
 On his marriage eve, was silent now. 
 He saw no one, nor questions asked. But 
 Slowly crept to where three mounds were 
 
44 MAGNOLIA. 
 
 liaised all side by side. He closely scanned 
 
 Them all, when lo! upon the longest grave, 
 
 A beauteous tuft of blue Forget-Me-Nots 
 
 Aha! lie cried, my bright, my blue Forget-Me-Nots! 
 
 My flowers which I placed upon her breast, 
 And bid her wear till we should meet again, 
 My faithful one. The seeds matured on thy 
 Dear bosom, nourished by thine own mortality, 
 Pushed their way to the sunlight of earth, To 
 Cheer and to 'mind of faithful love, 
 Love which lasts even after the gates of 
 Death are passed. Then he wailed the whole 
 Day long: Come, ()! come! Uranne, come! 
 Like my flowers, leave your bed, too dark too 
 Drear for thee. Uranne, come to me! 
 Or I will come to thee! 
 
 There they found him, there they laid him, 
 With his flowers and Uranne. 
 
 MAGNOLIA. 
 
 Magnolia ! ' ' Pale city of the dead, ' ' 
 Adown thy gravelled walks I tread, 
 Thy marble pillars looming high, 
 Thy polished shafts around me lie. 
 
MAGNOLIA. 45 
 
 "With soft, mild rajs, the winter sun 
 Thy tortuous pathways doth illume, 
 The weeping-willow droops its head, 
 To crown the k 'City of the Dead. 1 ' 
 
 On every side death's tracks I see, 
 His footsteps grim encompass me, 
 The high-born here, the lowly there, 
 The proud man there, the humble here. 
 The rich has left his golden hoard, 
 ~No more he sits at festive board, 
 He could not bribe relentless death, 
 With all his garnered stores of wealth. 
 
 Here lies a maiden spotless fair, 
 Whose claim on life for many a year 
 Seemed sure. But the grim Reaper smiled, 
 And bending, Claimed her for his child. 
 So lovingly they made her bed. 
 And tenderly these garlands spread, 
 Bright emblems of a stricken flower, 
 ~Now blooming in a sunnier bower. 
 
 And here an. infant's grave I see, 
 Ere sin could stain its purity, 
 It plumed its wings and upward soared, 
 To live forever with its God. 
 Though fair the earth, it would not stay, 
 Much fairer still the land away, 
 Restrain me not, for I would go 
 Where crystal fountains endless flow. 
 4 
 
46 MAGNOLIA. 
 
 With slow, sad steps I press me on 
 To a majestic tower of stone, 
 That tells me they who sleep around 
 Had for their country's weal laid down 
 Their lives. Ah! many a widowed heart 
 Hath bent and broke with sorrow's dart, 
 For him who now beneath the sod, 
 Yielded his spirit to his God. 
 
 And many a youth with trappings gay, 
 'Mid martial music liveliest, lay, 
 'No more in life returned to bless 
 Their loved ones with a fond caress, 
 But laid them down to their last sleep 
 In stranger land. Now angels keep 
 A loving vigil o'er each grave, 
 And bending branches o'er them wave. 
 
 City of Shadows! fondly keep 
 The loved who in thy bosom sleep, 
 Shielded from every earthly care, 
 They rest secure and free from fear. 
 Let grasses green and flow' rets bright, 
 Always illume thy paths with light, 
 Till from the heavens loud and clear, 
 Resounds the invitation dear, 
 "Come up and meet me in the air, 
 My people. ' ' 
 
TO MY MOTHER. 47 
 
 TO MY MOTHER. 
 
 I took up the burden of life anew 
 
 When she, the pure-hearted, died; 
 When the golden cord was rent in twain, 
 
 And she faded from my side. 
 When the eyes grew dim that were wont to glow 
 
 With the holy light of love, 
 And the spirit, freed from earthly care, 
 
 Sped to its rest above. 
 
 Oh, the dreary days! Oh, the weary nights! 
 
 Oh, the anguish, who can tell? 
 When the light of my life went swiftly out, 
 
 And the shadow athwart me fell. 
 For the wound was deep, and the woe was great, 
 
 And its poignancy will blight 
 All the onward course of my future years, 
 
 Till my faith be turned to sight. 
 
 I muse me now of the beautiful days, 
 
 The halcyon days of yore; 
 And wonder if e'er on life's stormy sea 
 
 Such days I shall ever see more. 
 The sky is as blue-tinted now as then, 
 
 And the sunlight just as bright; 
 But they gladden me not as in other days 
 
 Ere she faded from my sight. 
 
48 NESTLE DOWN COTTAGE. 
 
 The clouds with their purple and amber hues 
 
 Their gossamer robes of snow 
 And the stars at the quiet twilight hour 
 
 In calm, clear beauty glow. 
 And music sweet as ^Eolian harp 
 
 Is echoing far and wide 
 But, sure, naught gladdens my heart as before 
 
 She faded away from my side. 
 
 (), Mother! in anguish I peer through the mists 
 
 Of a future, so dark without thee; 
 The desert of life hath truly been blessed 
 
 With an oasis sacred to thee. 
 And oft to this green spot of beauty I turn, 
 
 My shrine of affection, my pride; 
 For, surely, naught gladdens my heart as before 
 
 Thou fadedst away from my side. 
 
 ISTESTLE-DOW^ COTTAGE. 
 
 As I sit by the ruddy oak fire, 
 
 And feel the grateful glow, 
 Come mem'ries sweet of a rustic cot, 
 
 That stood near the pebbly shore. 
 
 With its porch so bright and sunny, 
 
 Where the children loved to play, 
 With the sounding shells, from the sandy beach, 
 
 All through the summer's day. 
 
Where, where are the blessed little ones 
 
 Whose childish voices sweet, 
 Who made the sunny porch resound 
 
 With the patter of little feet? 
 
 One where the South Seas wildly break, 
 
 And dash on the gleaming sand, 
 Has made him a home 'mid strangers, 
 
 Far, far from his native land. 
 
 Another, the sweetest and dearest, 
 Has long 'neath the daisies been laid, 
 
 O! dark as a pall was the hour 
 
 When they whispered my darling was dead. 
 
 The cottage still stands by the sea shore, 
 Our sunny, bright ^ Nestle -Down " 
 
 But we ask so sadly where, O ! where 
 Are the little children gone? 
 
 MOTHER'S RECALL. 
 
 Come back to me, O ye, my children ; 
 Come back to the home as of yore ; 
 
 As my longing eye peers through the vista of years, 
 (.dines the heart-throbbing more and more. 
 
 I sit by the casement and listen 
 
 To the fall of the soft, sobbing rain, 
 
 E'en the winds gently sigh as if loth to reply- 
 In vain, fond mother, in vain. 
 
50 MOTHER'S RECALL. 
 
 Are ye gone for aye? Shall I no more hear 
 
 The ring and the din of glee ? 
 Have my nestlings flown and left me alone ? 
 
 Shall their faces, I no more see ? 
 I sit, and I wait while the days go by, 
 
 And the months merge slow into years; 
 Till the twilight deep and the mystic sleep, 
 
 And the hopes give place to fears. 
 
 When the Christmas chimes with its holy rhymes 
 
 Ring out o'er the frosty plain, 
 Then I sit, and sigh for the "Sweet bye and bye" 
 
 But the answer comes, "Mother in vain." 
 Each one of us, children, have gone forth 
 
 To fight out life's battles alone; 
 And the future must prove if your labor of love, 
 
 Has, like bread on the waters, been thrown. 
 
 So the twilight comes and the fire burns low 
 
 And the day is ebbing fast 
 Soon the merry chimes and the hallowed rhymes 
 
 Will be numbered with the Past. 
 But with hopeful eyes I'll scan the skies, 
 
 Perchance, ere next Christmas-tide, 
 Will my children come to their own dear home, 
 
 And their place at mother's side. 
 
DEDICATION. 51 
 
 DEDICATED 
 TO THE EIGHT KEV'D D. A. PAYNE. 
 
 Oli! surely 'tis a theme sublime 
 
 That stirs my soul to-day; 
 Awake then, muse nor slumber more, 
 
 Till sung the wondrous lay. 
 My song shall be of one, whose youth 
 
 And strength were freely given 
 To elevate, instruct, and lead 
 
 Benighted souls to heaven. 
 
 My song shall be of him, whose hand 
 
 A mother's taste did mould; 
 Whose precepts noble were to her 
 
 As apples of pure gold. 
 I'll tell of one whose virtues rare 
 
 In modesty enshrined; 
 Who bears a lasting laurel wreath 
 
 About his brow entwined. 
 
 Who in the days that tried men's souls 
 
 Did ne'er from duty quail, 
 But wrought on ensign, lifted high, 
 
 There's no such word as fail! 
 Mem'ries so sweet are ho v' ring round, 
 
 That I, with Psalmist, say 
 "O! had I wings like turtle dove, 
 
 Quickly I'd flyaway!" 
 
52 OCTOBER. 
 
 Away, away beyond the hills 
 
 Where blooms the tree of life, 
 Where limpid streams whose silent flow, 
 
 Ne'er stir the sea of strife. 
 Oh! Bishop, Pastor, Friend, may'st thou 
 
 To green old age be spared; 
 Then, like a fully ripened ear 
 
 Go to thv rich reward. 
 
 OCTOBEK. 
 
 Bright and beautiful art thou, 
 Autumn flowers crown thy brow, 
 Golden -rod and Aster blue, 
 Russet leaf with crimson hue. 
 Half stripped branches waving by, 
 Softly as a lullaby, 
 Tell of summer's days gone by, 
 Tell that winter's very nigh. 
 
 In the forest cool and chill, 
 Sadly moans the Whippoorwill, 
 Not as in the summer days, 
 When he gloried in his lays, 
 Lower-toned, but sweet and clear, 
 Like thy crisp and fragrant air, 
 Warbling forth with voice sublime, 
 This is nature's harvest time. 
 
THE DYING GIRL. 53 
 
 Crickets chirp amid the leaves, 
 Squirrels hop among the trees, 
 Brown nuts falling thick and fast, 
 On the dewy, dying grass, 
 Glowing sun with softer rays, 
 Harbinger of wintry days. 
 Tell the year is going by, 
 Sighing forth its lullaby. 
 
 THE DYING GIEL. 
 
 Sister darling, ope the window, let the balmy air once 
 
 more 
 Fan my flushed and throbbing brow as in the happy 
 
 days of yore; 
 
 I would gaze again in rapture on the brightly setting sun 
 For I know, my gentle sister, that the goal is almost 
 
 won. 
 
 See the crimson clouds are hov'riiig round the glorious 
 orb of day, 
 
 And the far-off hills are basking in its golden, gar- 
 nished ray ; 
 
 Listen to yon forest warbler hymning sweet and joy- 
 ous lay, 
 
 Chanting forth its evening vespers to the sinking god 
 of day. 
 
54 THE DYING GIRL. 
 
 But sister, time is waning, after all it doth but seem 
 That life is but a toilsome march, a weariness, a dream ; 
 And yet I do not murmur, for if all the joys of earth 
 Had not faded from my vision ere they ripened into 
 birth, 
 
 If the shadows had not thickened as they clustered 
 
 round my brow, 
 Had 1 not turned from the altar, where I worshipped 
 
 long ago, 
 Perchance I might have reveled full too deep in human 
 
 love, 
 And forgotten God, my Maker, and my happy home 
 
 above. 
 
 So 'tis well, and now I'm going to join that spirit band, 
 With their never-ceasing music, making glad that 
 
 starry land; 
 And I'm glad too, for I'm weary, and would rest me 
 
 from my woe 
 Pain would land my stricken spirit on the banks of 
 
 "Evermore." 
 
 And O ! my dearly loved one, when sorrows round 
 
 thee press, 
 Hurling each deadly missile on thy pure and youthful 
 
 breast 
 Then think upon thy dear one, O! may ne'er thy 
 
 footsteps rove! [above. 
 
 But meet me, surely meet me, in that happy home 
 
ALASKA. 55 
 
 Night's shades hung o'er the valleys and obscured the 
 
 forest green 
 'Twas o'er; that happy spirit had been robed in spot- 
 
 less sheen, 
 So they laid her 'inong the flowers, and the zephyr's 
 
 tuneful play 
 Resounds a woodland requiem at the sunset of each 
 
 day. 
 
 ALASKA. 
 
 With thy rugged, ice-girt shore, 
 Draped in everlasting snow, 
 
 Thou'rt entlironed a queen. 
 Crown of moss and lichen grey, 
 Frosted o'er with ocean spray. 
 All thy long, long wintry day, 
 
 Dark and stern thy mien. 
 
 From the cloudland fresh and fair, 
 Falls the snow through crispy air, 
 
 Mantling vale and hill. 
 Then old "Borealis" glows, 
 With his fiery light that shows, 
 Frozen nature in repose, 
 
 River, stream and rill. 
 
 On thy north the Polar Sea 
 Thunders forth in wild melee, 
 
56 ALASKA. 
 
 'Mid gorges dark and steep. 
 Full many a ship with noble crew, 
 Lies low beneath thy waters blue, 
 Nor left behind a single clew, 
 
 But sleep a dreamless sleep. 
 
 Beside the far famed Yukon stands 
 Hundreds of men from distant lands, 
 
 All with the same desire. 
 Gold, gold's the watchword, yellow ore, 
 That tempts him from his homestead door, 
 And Oh! alas he nevermore 
 
 May sit by household fire. 
 
 Ah! if men would only toil, 
 Dig and delve their own rich soil, 
 
 With vigor and with vim; 
 Forth would spring the golden corn, 
 Loud would ring the harvest song, 
 Life and health they would prolong, 
 
 All through nature's prime. 
 
 Under his own, his fruitful vine, 
 Beneath his laden fig tree green, 
 
 He, like a king, would reign. 
 Bending low with purple yield, 
 Rivalling fair Eschkol's fields, 
 He'd a potent influence wield, 
 
 With his corn and wine. 
 
ON PARTING WITH A FRIEND. 57" 
 
 ON PASTING WITH A FRIEND. 
 
 Can I forget thee? No, while mem'ry lasts, 
 Thine image like a talisman entwined, 
 
 Around my heart by sacred friendship's ties 
 
 Remains unchanged, in love, pure love, enshrined. 
 
 Can I forget thee ? Childhood's happy hours 
 
 Would like some flitting phantom mock and jeer; 
 
 Life's sunny hours, would quickly lose their charm, 
 If Lethe's slumbrous waves but touched me there. 
 
 Can I forget thee ? 'T,is a sad, sad thought, 
 
 That friend from friend should thus be ruthless 
 riven 
 
 But list, methinks, a sweet voice whispers low, 
 Remember, no adieus are spoke in heaven. 
 
 Can I forget thee ? No, though ocean's waves 
 May madly leap and foam 'twixt you and me, 
 
 Still o'er my stricken heart this yearning will remain, 
 Nor time estrange my love, dear one, from thee. 
 
 And though on earth again we never more may meet, 
 In that bright Elysian where spirits, holy, dwell, 
 
 May we in concert with that transported throng, 
 Unite, ne'er more (rapt thought) to say "farewell !' 
 
58 TWILIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 TWILIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 I'm sitting by the hearthstone now, 
 
 And my heart is lone and drear; 
 It seems as though the autumn blast 
 
 Had left its impress there. 
 As memory, backward, wends its way, 
 
 Unfolding to my gaze 
 Those joyful hours of "Auld Lang Syne,' 
 
 Those lights of by- gone days. 
 
 I'm musing on the past, when I 
 
 In childhood's thoughtless play, 
 Keveled in gladness, joy and mirth, 
 
 Nor deemed one saddening ray 
 Should ever cloud my gladsome heart, 
 
 Or cause deep sorrow's moan 
 Ne'er dreaming of the time, alas! 
 
 When I'd be quite alone. 
 
 I've listened to the morning's song 
 
 Of nature's feathered gems, 
 Long ere Aurora's roseate hue 
 
 Illumined Orient's realms, 
 And as their carols wafted high 
 
 On balmy zephyrs borne, 
 'Tis then I muse, and sadly feel, 
 
 That I am quite alone. 
 
SONG TO ERIN. 59 
 
 I've never heard the ocean's roar, 
 
 Or felt its quivering thrill; 
 Nor, on stern Neptune's bosom been, 
 
 When all was calm and still- 
 But o'er my heart, at times, there are 
 
 Such stormy billows borne, 
 That then I sadly, truly feel, 
 
 That I am quite alone. 
 
 SONG TO ERIN. 
 
 Oli! Erin my country, my ancestor's home! 
 Impelled by my wants, I, from thee, had to roam; 
 And now my heart yearn^th, sore longeth for thee 
 My dear native Ireland, my "gem of the sea." 
 
 Oh! Erin my country, thou land of the brave ! 
 Who'll rescue from tyr'ny, who'll ransom and save? 
 Thy despots so strong, are still wielding their power, 
 To bind thee in slavery both now and forever. 
 
 Speak! speak! who will rescue our Emerald Isle? 
 Now bowed by the oppressor in servitude vile! 
 Her sons are all scattered, her daughters are gone, 
 And she is left desolate, forlorn and alone. 
 
 I'll sigh for thee Erin, when spring winds doth fan, 
 With musical breathings, this far distant land; 
 'Twill remind me of youth's happy days on thy shore 
 Of days, mournful thought, I shall never see more. 
 
60 THE VALENTINE. 
 
 I'll weep for thee Erin, as the blue waters surge, 
 Shall re-echo my wailing, shall chant the sad dirge; 
 Of Ireland in slavery, once land of the free; 
 Of Ireland, my country, my "gem of the sea." 
 
 THE VALENTINE. 
 
 Lady with thine eyes of beauty 
 
 llivaling cerulean flowers, 
 Where the love -beams seem to linger, 
 
 Throughout youth's bright, sunny hours. 
 
 With thy smile of witching sweetness 
 
 Like the magnet's mystic art, 
 Charming oft enchanting oft'ner, 
 
 Drawing to thee every heart. 
 
 But, fair lady, I'll no longer 
 Linger thus o'er nature's mould, 
 
 7 Tis thy spirit's beauty charms me, 
 More than mines of Peru's gold. 
 
 Like an exile who hath wandered 
 Far from kindred and from home, 
 
 Pants and longs once more to greet them, 
 Never more on earth to roam; 
 
 Like the tempest-tossed, the weary, 
 Who of earth ne'er had their part, 
 
 Eain would land their stricken spirits 
 Where heart answers unto heart; 
 
LINES TO FLORENCE. 61 
 
 So tliis bosom when o'erflowing 
 
 With some latent, deadly grief, 
 Loves to revel in the music 
 
 Of thy voice to find relief. 
 
 And when joys do hover 'round me, 
 Weaving chaplets rich and bright, 
 
 I'd away from pleasures turn me 
 To my beautiful "Starlight." 
 
 Lady! could I seal thy future, 
 
 All of bliss and love 'twould be; 
 And when time with us is ended, 
 
 Spend eternity wth thee. 
 
 LINES TO FLORENCE. 
 
 I am sitting sad and lonely 
 
 Where I've often sat before, 
 And I am musing, fondly musing 
 
 Of my Florence who pass'd o'er. 
 Pass'd into the realms supernal, 
 
 Far 'bove cloud-lands lofty height; 
 Yonder 'mid the fields Elysian, 
 
 Dwells my "Flor" 'inoiig saints of light. 
 
 'Twas when autumn leaves were falling, 
 'Twas when harvest days had come, 
 
 That, King Death, the mighty reaper, 
 Came to take my darling home. 
 5 
 
.. - - -,.' 
 MJflafC9m vff> WBM. VH WMCM 
 
 Oat dbfe 
 
 ' .t- - :: -' - > - ..... ' 
 
 LAJ Aft- huMit s BttM- rte 
 
 mi* 
 
 tag. Aev s^I HIT 
 
 : .--,.- , _ ' , 
 
 idi 
 
 
 fcr idbfc Iwt; 
 I 
 
 L A 3brt 
 
 ". .-- - -:.:. ' '..- > ; " >. 
 Tbtt mv Stode- 
 
"BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLOX." THE PEN. 63 
 
 BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON." 
 
 By the Rivers of Babylon we mournfully bent, 
 With "harps on the willows" and vesture all rent. 
 For burdened by sorrow and saddened by pain. 
 AVe felt that we no more could strike them again. 
 
 This, this is a strange land, we will not then sing 
 One song uf our Zion. the home of our King, 
 Xo rather let right hand its cunning forget. 
 Than we to our loved home H recreants act. 
 
 O! City of God, though as captives we go, 
 Jerusalem's weal we'll never forego, 
 O! soon may the exiles of Israel return. 
 To sing Zion's songs in their own holy land. 
 
 THE PEN. 
 
 Mightier than the sword thou art, 
 Thou can '*>t pierce like venomed dart. 
 Time and space count naught with thee. 
 Leagues of land or leagues of sea. 
 
 Thou can'st waves of passion calm. 
 Griefs assuage like Gilead's balm. 
 Bring sweet pleasure to the eye, 
 Give sweet gladness for the sigh. 
 
64 THE PEN. 
 
 When thy little point is prest, 
 Oft it wounds some gentle breast, 
 Filling chalice to the brim, 
 Darkening life with sorrows grim. 
 
 Learned sage in days gone by, 
 Scanned thee witli prophetic eye, 
 Said to myriads then unborn 
 Thou would 'st rule on many a throne. 
 
 Swords may stab with savage ire, 
 Glistening out like rays of fire, 
 They can ne'er thy power attain, 
 O'er the sea or o'er the main. 
 
 Mightier than the sword art thou, 
 Lo! on many a regal broiv 
 Furrows which thy point has wrought, 
 Troubles which thy w^ork has brought. 
 
 Mightier than the sword art thou, 
 List! a maid records her vow, 
 That so long as life shall last, 
 Ne'er a doubt shall love o'ercast 
 
 Naught of bliss or naught of woe, 
 But thou can'st on man bestow, 
 With thy tiny pointed prow, 
 Mightier than the sword art thou. 
 
PASSING OF THE OLD YEAR. 65 
 
 PASSING OF THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 Ah! the year is slowly dying, 
 And the wind in tree -top sighing, 
 
 Chant his requiem. 
 Thick and fast the leaves are falling, 
 High in air wild birds are calling, 
 
 Nature's solemn hymn. 
 
 In the deep, dark forest lingers. 
 Imprints of his icy fingers, 
 
 Chill, and dark, and cold. 
 And the little streamlets flowing, 
 Wintry sun so softly glowing, 
 
 Through the maple's gold. 
 
 So, Old Year, gird on your armor, 
 Let not age, nor fear, nor favor, 
 
 Hurry you along. 
 List! the farewell echoes pealing, 
 List! the midnight hour is stealing, 
 
 Hark! thy dying song. 
 
 Say, Old Year, ere yet your death knell 
 Kings from out yon distant church bell, 
 
 Say, what have you done ? 
 Tell of hearts you've sadly broken, 
 Tell of love dead and unspoken, 
 
 Ere your course is run. 
 
66 PASSING OF THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 Tell the mother who doth languish, 
 O'er her graves in silent anguish, 
 
 She will see again, 
 
 Blooming bright ' ' beyond the river, ' ' 
 Living on for aye and ever, 
 
 Every bright-eyed gem. 
 
 Ah! full many a spirit weary, 
 
 You have wooed from paths so dreary, 
 
 Wafted them above. 
 Now they say Old Year, we bless thee, 
 Raise thy head, we would caress thee 
 
 For this home of love. 
 
 On thy brow lies many a furrow, 
 And thy eyes tell many a sorrow 
 
 Ha1h its shadow cast. 
 But thy task is almost ended, 
 Soon the path which thou hast wended, 
 
 Will be called the "Past." 
 
 Then, odd dying year we hold thee, 
 To our hearts we fondly fold thee, 
 
 Ere the midnight bell. 
 Soon thy race will now be ended, 
 With Eternity be blended, 
 
 So, Old Year, farewell. 
 
SONNET TO MY FIRST BORN. 67 
 
 SONNET TO MY FIKST BOKN. 
 
 Oh! waves in the sunlight gleaming. 
 
 Oh! billows with ceaseless roar, 
 Bring back to this aching heart of mine. 
 
 The laddie yon bore long ago. 
 Far out 011 on your restless bosom, 
 
 Far away from his boy-hood's home, 
 I charge you waves of the deep, blue sea 
 
 To bid my wanderer come. 
 
 Oh! stars in the heavens twinkling 
 
 Like lamps hung up in the sky, 
 Oh! moon look down through the darkness, 
 
 His try sting -place you may descry. 
 Then tell him a fond heart is aching, 
 
 In love for the dear one she bore, 
 Oh! surely to thee he will hearken, 
 
 And haste to his own cottage door. 
 
 The winds of the autumn are sighing, 
 
 The leaves from the trees falling fast, 
 The roses that erstwhile \vere blooming, 
 
 Say mournfully Summer is past. 
 The daisies have long ago slumbered, 
 
 Their blossoms I search for in vain ; 
 But surely for thee I will look, love, 
 
 Ere spring time brings them again. 
 
68 LINES. 
 
 
 
 When the Frost-King's robe is glistening 
 
 O'er hill, and valley, and glen, 
 When the bright sleigh-bells are jingling, 
 
 I know he'll come to me then. 
 So sunlight, or starlight, or moonlight. 
 
 Wherever my truant you see, 
 Just tell him you left me a- waiting 
 
 Far over the deep blue sea. 
 
 LINES TO 
 
 O come to me in my dreams love! 
 
 When the world is wrapped in sleep, 
 And the silver moon like virgin queen, 
 
 Her lonely vigils keep. 
 When all is hushed in calm repose 
 
 The earth, and sky, and sea, 
 Then hasten love to this far-off land, 
 
 And dwell one hour with me. 
 
 O come to me in my dreams love! 
 
 And cheer me on my way; 
 And bid me look to a higher land 
 
 For the dawn of a brighter day. 
 Then breathe to heaven an earnest prayer 
 
 To bless, ere you depart, 
 With perfect love and childlike faith, 
 
 This sad, despondent heart. 
 
HIGHLAND MARY. 69 
 
 O, do not forget to come, love, 
 
 But on rosy pinions haste, 
 And deluge my willing ear, with 
 
 Mementoes of the past. 
 And tell me, too, of that distant land, 
 
 Its sunshine and its flowers; 
 And in return my strain shall be 
 
 Magnolia's bright bowers. 
 
 Ah, do not fail to come love, 
 
 For I'll woo my slumber to-night; 
 I'll lay me down to sweet repose, 
 
 And wait for thec and light. 
 Then hie to my bower on wings of love, 
 
 Ah, linger not by the way, 
 But solace this heart and bid it hope, 
 
 For the dawn of a brighter day. 
 
 HIGHLAND MARY. 
 
 Will you leave the hills of Scotland ? 
 
 Your childhood's happy home, 
 To brave the dangers of the deep, 
 
 In foreign lands to roam- 
 Say, Mary, will you, for my sake 
 
 Leave yonder joyous cot 
 Your youthful friends and scenes so 
 
 To share a soldier's lot ? 
 
70 THE CHEROKEE. 
 
 The battle's din, my Mary, 
 
 Has never met thine ear, 
 The woodlands' songsters melody 
 
 Is all that thou dost hear. 
 The vivid flash of musketry 
 
 The cannon's thundering roar 
 Must meet thine eye, burst on thine ear 
 
 Sounds never heard before. 
 
 And now, fond one, I've told you all, 
 
 And I can say no more 
 i 'Will you go to the Indies, my Mary, 
 
 And leave old Scotia's shore ? " 
 
 THE CHEROKEE. 
 
 7 Twas a cloudless morn and the sun shone bright, 
 
 And dewdrops sparkled clear; 
 And the hills and the vales of this Western land 
 
 Were wreathed with garlands rare. 
 For verdant spring with her emerald robe 
 
 Had decked the forest trees; 
 Whilst e'er and anon the vine-clad boughs 
 
 Waved in the playful breeze. 
 
 All, all was still, not a sound was heard. 
 
 Save the music of each tree, 
 As gracefully it bent and bowed 
 
 Its branches o'er the lea. 
 
THE CHEROKEE. 7 
 
 But hark! a sound, 'tis the Red man's tread, 
 
 Breaks on the silent air ; 
 And a sturdy warrior issues forth. 
 
 Robed in his native gear. 
 
 And wandering on, he neared the brook; 
 
 Then sat him down to rest; 
 'Twas a noble sight that warrior free 
 
 That Monarch of the West. 
 He gazed around, O! a wistful gaze 
 
 Saddened his upturned brow, 
 As he thought of those he'd fondly loved, 
 
 Of those now laid so low. 
 
 He mused aloud ' ' Great Spirit ! ' ' list 
 
 To the Indian's earnest plea; 
 And tell me why, from his own loved home, 
 
 Must the Indian driven be. 
 When the "Pale Face" came to our genial clime, 
 
 We wondered and were glad; 
 Then hied us to our chieftain's lodge, 
 
 Our noble "Flying Cloud." 
 
 We told him all, and he calmly said 
 
 He'd gladly give them place; 
 And if friends they proved, perchance, extend 
 
 The calumet of peace. 
 But soon, alas! the dread truth rang 
 
 That the Pale Face was our foe; 
 For he made our warriors bite the dust 
 
 Our children lie so low. 
 
72 RALLY SONG. 
 
 So now, my own, dear, sunny land, 
 
 Each woodland and each dell, 
 Once the Indian's home, now the Indian's grave, 
 
 I bid a last farewell. 
 To the "Great Spirit's" hunting-ground, 
 
 To meet my long-lost bride, 
 My ' ' Raven Wing' ' I gladly hie 
 
 He said, then calmly died. 
 
 RALLY S01S T G. 
 
 Come, let us join this festal lay- 
 Hurra, Hurra, 
 
 Come, let us join this festal lay, 
 And let our anthems all be gay, 
 And sing aloud for this glad day 
 Should brighten every heart: 
 
 We'll sing of heroes who have fought 
 
 Hurra, Hurra, 
 
 We'll sing of heroes who have fought, 
 Who to their country's altar brought, 
 And on her sacred ensign wrought, 
 
 The tree of liberty, 
 
SERENADE. 73 
 
 We'll sing of martyrs who have died 
 
 Hurra, Hurra, 
 
 We'll sing of martyrs who have died, 
 From severed ranks, as side by side 
 They bravely stemmed the gory tide. 
 
 To ransom brother man. 
 
 Our glorious banner's now unfurled 
 
 Hurra, Hurra, 
 
 Our glorious banner's now unfurled, 
 May it soon wave o'er all the world, 
 And every traitor standard hurled 
 
 From pinnacle to earth. 
 
 With gifted leaders in our van- 
 Hurra, Hurra, 
 
 With gifted leaders in our van, 
 The bright and noblest of our land, 
 Let patriots shout, as, hand in hand, 
 They welcome this glad day. 
 
 SEKE1SADE. 
 
 Sleep, love sleep, 
 
 The night winds sigh, 
 
 In soft lullaby. 
 
 The Lark is at rest 
 
 With the dew on her breast. 
 
74 THE COMING WOMAN. 
 
 So close those dear eyes, 
 That borrowed their hue 
 From the heavens so blue, 
 .Sleep, love sleep. 
 
 Sleep, love sleep, 
 The pale moon looks down 
 On the valleys around, 
 The Glow Moth is flying, 
 Th South wind is sighing, 
 And I am low lying, 
 With lute deftly strung, 
 To pour out my song, 
 Sleep, love sleep 
 
 THE COMING WOMAN. 
 
 Just look, 'tis a quarter past six, love 
 
 And not even the fires are caught; 
 Well, you knoAV I must be at the office 
 
 But, as usual, the breakfast '11 be late. 
 
 Now hurry and wake up the children; 
 
 And dress them as fast as you can ; 
 "Poor dearies," I know they'll be tardy, 
 
 Dear me, ' ' what a slow T , poky man ! ' : 
 
 Have the tenderloin broiled nice and juicy- 
 Have the toast browned and buttered all right; 
 
 And be sure you settle the coffee: 
 Be sure that the silver is bright. 
 
ODK TO PEACE. 75 
 
 "When ready, just run up and call me 
 
 At eight, to the office I go, 
 Lest poverty, grim, should o'er take us 
 
 " 'Tis bread and butter," you know. 
 
 The bottom from stocks may fall out, 
 
 My bonds may get below par ; 
 Then surely, I seldom could spare you 
 
 A nickel, to buy a cigar. 
 
 All ready? Xow, while I am eating, 
 Just bring up my wheel to the door; 
 
 Then wash up the dishes; jmd, mind now, 
 Have dinner promptly at four; 
 
 For to-night is our Woman's Convention, 
 And I am to speak first, you know 
 
 The men veto us in private, 
 
 But in public they shout, "That's so." 
 
 So "by-by" In case of a rap, love, 
 
 Before opening the door, you must look; 
 
 O ! how could a civilized woman 
 Exist, without a man cook. 
 
 ODE TO PEACE. 
 
 Come Peace, on snowy pinions, 
 Come, nestle like a dove; 
 
 Encircle earth's dominions 
 With harmony and love. 
 
74 THE COMING WOMAN. 
 
 So close those dear eyes, 
 That borrowed their hue 
 From the heavens so blue, 
 .Sleep, love sleep. 
 
 Sleep, love sleep, 
 The pale moon looks down 
 On the valleys around, 
 The Glow Moth is flying, 
 Th South wind is sighing, 
 And I am low lying, 
 With lute deftly strung, 
 To pour out my song, 
 Sleep, love sleep 
 
 THE COMING WOMAN. 
 
 Just look, 'tis a quarter past six, love 
 And not even the fiies are caught; 
 
 Well, you know I must be at the office 
 But, as usual, the breakfast '11 be late. 
 
 Now hurry and wake up the children ; 
 
 And dress them as fast as you can; 
 ''Poor dearies,'' I know they'll be tardy, 
 
 Dear me, "what a slow, poky man ! ' : 
 
 Have the tenderloin broiled nice and juicy- 
 Have the toast browned and buttered all right; 
 
 And be sure you settle the coffee: 
 Be sure that the silver is bright. 
 
ODE TO PEACE. 75 
 
 When ready, just run up and call me 
 
 At eight, to the office I go, 
 Lest poverty, grim, should o'ertake us 
 
 " 'Tis bread and butter,' 5 you know. 
 
 The bottom from stocks may fall out, 
 
 / 
 
 My bonds may get below par; 
 Then surely, I seldom could spare you 
 A nickel, to buy a cigar. 
 
 All ready? Now, while I am eating, 
 Just bring up my wheel to the door; 
 
 Then wash up the dishes; and, mind now, 
 Have dinner promptly at four; 
 
 For to-night is our Woman's Convention, 
 And I am to speak first, you know 
 
 The men veto us in private, 
 
 But in public they shout, "That's so." 
 
 So "by- by "In case of a rap, love, 
 
 Before opening the door, you must look; 
 
 ()! how could a civilized woman 
 Exist, without a man cook. 
 
 ODE TO PEACE. 
 
 Come Peace, on snowy pinions, 
 Come, nestle like a dove; 
 
 Encircle earth's dominions 
 With harmony and love. 
 
76 ODE TO PEACE. 
 
 Let anger, pride and malice, 
 And strife forgotten lie; 
 
 Nor from their venomed chalice, 
 Quaff more bitter draughts and die. 
 
 Come Peace, with arms extended, 
 Come, brood o'er this fair land; 
 
 Let battle scenes be ended, 
 
 And heart be joined with hand. 
 
 Let fields now crimsoned over, 
 With the life-blood of the brave, 
 
 Loom as monuments of warning, 
 
 o" 
 
 Shine, as beacon lights to save. 
 
 Come Peace, a welcome waits thee, 
 
 From many a stricken life; 
 And many a heart-crushed mourner, 
 
 Now weary of the strife; 
 Methinks e'en now a footfall 
 
 Breaks like music on my ear, 
 As the distant sound of gladness, 
 
 When 'tis borne on summer's air. 
 
 May the echoes prove prophetic; 
 
 May thy murmurs from afar 
 Shed a radiance as refulgent, 
 
 Beam as bright as Bethlehem's Star. 
 
A REVERIE. 77 
 
 And the hearts that have been riven, 
 
 And the bosoms that have bled, 
 Soon will change their griefs to gladness, 
 
 Yield to God and earth their dead. 
 
 A KEYEEIE. 
 
 You may speak of a grave in a distant land, 
 
 Or of one 'neath ocean's foam, 
 Where the dolphins play o'er the sunny spray, 
 
 Far from the dear old home; 
 "Where the coral peaks form a glorious tomb, 
 
 And the mighty waters lave, 
 But there is naught in the wide world sought 
 
 Like the heart's deep anguished grave. 
 
 You may tell of a grave 'neath the burning sands 
 
 Of the tropics fevered zone; 
 Where silence reigns o'er the desert plains 
 
 So desolate, so forlorn. 
 Where the lion's roar is the liveliest sound 
 
 That o'er that waste is heard 
 And the forest bird hymns a plaintive lay, 
 
 A requiem for the dead. 
 
 Again you may tell of a grave unsought 
 
 Far from the home of youth ; 
 Where the willow weeps as the exile sleeps 
 
 Akin to Mother Earth. 
 6 
 
78 SUNSET. 
 
 But O! methinks, there's not a woe 
 
 That can the bosom cleave, 
 Or as deeply wound, as the lowly mound 
 
 O'er the heart's deep, anguished grave. 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 All hail ! thou gorgeous sunset, 
 With thy gold and purple clouds, 
 
 Tinting the vast horizon, 
 
 Like shadowy, fleecy shrouds. 
 
 The mountain crests are glowing, 
 The hills are crimson dyed, 
 
 The very air seems blushing, 
 Bathed in thy amber tide. 
 
 Soon the twilight shadows falling 
 "Will thy glory chase away, 
 
 And weary man will welcome 
 The closing of the day. 
 
 Then the moon in silvery brightness, 
 Will show her pale, sad face; 
 
 And the stars as her attendants, 
 Will stud infinite space. 
 
 Low down amid the valley 
 
 Soon we'll hear the night-bird's song, 
 Calling softly to the south wind, 
 
 That the day of toil is done. 
 
THE PAST. 79 
 
 Then hail ! thou glorious sunset, 
 Who in fullness can portray 
 
 The varied, wondrous beauty 
 Of a summer's sunset day. 
 
 THE PAST. 
 
 The Past it is fraught with many a feeling 
 Of pleasure, of sadness, of joy, and of pain ; 
 
 And 'tis sweet of an eve when dewdrops are falling, 
 To reflect on the days that can ne'er come again. 
 
 The Past, it is pleasant ! Ah, memory recalls 
 The period of childhood, when joyous and free, 
 
 With innocence crowned, in purity robed, 
 We revelled in gladness and sported in glee. 
 
 The Past, it is saddening ! full many a loved one 
 That joined in each pleasure, partook of each pain, 
 
 Have passed on before, to the spirit land flown, 
 And left us below, till their prize we attain. 
 
 The Past's irrevocable ! every word we've spoken, 
 Or action committed, been stamp' d with its seal 
 
 Immortal, enduring, 'twill stand sure forever, 
 As no time can eiface, nor effulgence reveal. 
 
 Then, then, should the Present be valued and used 
 As a boon from the Author and Giver of gifts; 
 
 That so, when 'tis past, we could always enjoy 
 The pleasant assurance of its being well spent. 
 
80 MARRIAGE. FOR WHO? 
 
 MAKRIAGE. 
 
 The die is cast, come weal, come woe, 
 
 Two lives are joined together, 
 For better or for worse, the link 
 
 Which naught but death can sever. 
 The die is cast, come grief, come joy. 
 
 Corne richer, or come poorer, 
 If love but binds the mystic tie, 
 
 Blest is the bridal hour. 
 
 FOE WHO? 
 
 When the heavens with stars are gleaming 
 
 Like a diadem of light, 
 And the moon's pale rays are streaming, 
 
 Decking earth with radiance bright; 
 When the autumn's winds are sighing, 
 
 O'er the hill and o'er the lea, 
 When the summer time is dying, 
 
 Wanderer, wilt thou think of me ? 
 
 When thy life is crowned with gladne s. 
 
 And thy home with love is blest, 
 Not one brow o'ercast with sadness, 
 
 Not one bosom of unrest 
 When at eventide reclining, 
 
 At thy hearthstone gay and free. 
 Think of one whose life is pining, 
 
 Breathe thou, love, a prayer for me. 
 
JUNE. 81 
 
 Should dark sorrows make tliee languish, 
 
 Cause thy cheek to lose its hue, 
 In the hour of deepest anguish, 
 
 Darling, then I'll grieve with you. 
 Though the night be dark and dreary, 
 
 And it seemeth long to thee, 
 I would whisper, ' ' be not weary ; ' ' 
 
 I would pray love, then, for thee. 
 
 Well I know that in the future, 
 
 I may cherish naught of earth; 
 Well I know that love needs nurture, 
 
 And it is of heavenly birth. 
 But though ocean waves may seA^er 
 
 I from thee, and thee from me, 
 Still this constant heart will never, 
 
 Never cease to think of thee. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 I anl the month when roses 
 Bloom brightest o'er the glade, 
 
 I am the month when marriages 
 Most happily are made. 
 
 Mine is the time of foliage, 
 When hills arid valleys teem 
 
 With buds and vines sweet scented, 
 All clothed in glowing green. 
 
82 JUNE. 
 
 My riiglits are bright and starry, 
 My days are long and clear 
 
 And truly I'm the fairest, 
 Of all months in the year. 
 
 With night dews gently falling, 
 With bees upon the wing, 
 
 And tiny rills soft rippling 
 Amid the valleys sing. 
 
 The farmer with his ploughshare, 
 Swift turning up the sod, 
 
 His brawny arms at labor, 
 His soul with Nature's God. 
 
 The Lark with sweetest carol, 
 Doth greet the rising sun, 
 
 The Mock-bird at the even, 
 Loud whistles day is done. 
 
 O ! I'm the month of beauty, 
 The summer's crown I claim-, 
 
 Now whisper to me softly, 
 And tell me what's my name. 
 
TRIBUTE TO A LOST STEAMER. 83 
 
 TKIBUTE TO A -LOST STEAMEE. 
 
 O ! sing je a dirge for the loved and the lost, 
 
 That have found them a home 'neatli the coral reefs 
 
 deep; 
 That have laid them to rest 'neath the murmuring 
 
 surge. 
 
 Where the whistling wind wails o'er their sweet, 
 but sad sleep. 
 
 They have gone to their horn/ 1 their last resting-place 
 The blue waves embraced and called them their own; 
 
 While the depths of the sea and the billows thereof 
 Are mournfully sighing their sad requiem. 
 
 Down, down through the mass of the waters they sped, 
 Amid the dark chambers so mystic, so drear; 
 
 'Till perchance they selected some ruby-lit bed, 
 To sleep their last sleep 'mid jeweled gems rare. 
 
 O ! 'tis sweet now to ponder, though many have gone 
 To that far-off bourne whence no traveller returns, 
 
 That the sea shall not always their bodies retain, 
 For Jehovah hath said, she must yield them again. 
 
 One bright little jewel outlived the dark storm, 
 So fatal to many, yet blissful to tell 
 
 His "Father in heaven" preserved him from harm, 
 O, parent rejoice ! with your Louis 'tis well. 
 
81 A REQUIEM. 
 
 A REQUIEM. 
 
 (). insatiable monster ! Could' st tliou not 
 
 In pity turn aside thy venomed shaft 
 
 From her my gifted, darling friend ? ^ 
 
 Has sympathy within thy. breast 
 
 No trysting place ? That thou must come 
 
 At spring-time when the flowerets bloom 
 
 To bear my loved one to the tomb ? 
 
 So young was she; life's woes had not yet dimmed 
 
 The joyous sunshine of her girlhood's days; 
 
 She did not quaff the dregs of time, 
 
 But,., like some rosebud prematurely culled, 
 
 She sped away, and o'er her grave 
 
 So peacefully the willows wave, 
 
 And dewdrops, her calm bosom lave. 
 
 Tread not the earth where sleeps my loved one's form; 
 
 But place it lightly on her marble brow. 
 
 Bid birdies sing at set of sun 
 
 To gladden Fannie 's lowly home; 
 
 Bid rippling springs with shining spray, 
 
 And sylvan nof.es and songsters lay 
 
 Unite, to chase the gloom away. 
 
 Blest child ! she did not tarry long, and yet, 
 O, happy thought she did not live in vain, 
 If truly she did seek and find 
 
THE GRAFTED BUD. 85> 
 
 The ' ' Pearl of Price, ' ' that precious boon, 
 Then ne'er to her could come too soon 
 The summons to an early tomb. 
 
 Blest child, rest ! while gentle zephyrs breathe 
 
 Their fragrance through the waving trees; 
 
 All nature decked in gorgeous array 
 
 Is reveling now, but soon alas ! 
 
 Like thee, 'twill fade. The autumn's knell 
 
 Will ere long peal like funeral bell 
 
 Its dirge like sounds, "Friend, fare thee well." 
 
 THE GRAFTED BUD. 
 
 Life's stormy surge had scarcely touched 
 Her blooming, beauteous brow, 
 
 When rudely torn from earthly bliss, 
 A budded, broken flower. 
 
 Methinks I see her brilliant eye, 
 When smiles played softly there, 
 
 As gentle as the summer's breeze, 
 So radiant, sweet and clear. 
 
 But ah ! frail nature gave away, 
 
 And she was doomed to die, 
 So young in years, so bright, so fair. 
 
 In the cold grave to lie. 
 
86 TO A LOVED ONE. 
 
 So to the realms of light and life 
 Her uncaged spirit fled ; 
 
 There to remain until the trump 
 Shall sound to wake the dead. 
 
 There with the Saviour &he abides, 
 There tunes the sacred lyre, 
 
 Regardless of th' impending day. 
 And dreading not its ire. 
 
 TO A LOYED ONE. 
 
 I'll think of thee, mine own, dear one 
 As morn's first blushing ray 
 
 Diffuses light o'er the dim earth- 
 Turns darkness into day. 
 
 I'll think of thee at eve, my love, 
 When moon and star appear 
 
 When in the horizon of my hope 
 All, all is bright and clear. 
 
 I'll think of thee when joy doth cast 
 
 Its gladness o'er my heart, 
 As peace, and love and happiness 
 
 Seem new life to impart. 
 
 I'll think of thee when dark shades fall 
 Athwart my fevered brow; 
 
 "When low in death I hear thee lisp 
 "I'm waiting for thee now." 
 
THE NATIVITY. 87 
 
 I'll think of thee, my darling one, 
 
 While I have life and breath; 
 And seal the assurance fervently, 
 
 I'll think of thee in death. 
 
 THE NATIVITY. 
 
 The gloom of night had overspread the land, 
 Swaying its dread sceptre o'er every man; 
 For superstition like a monarch reigned, 
 And Adam's sons were fettered by its chain. 
 
 When the fulfilment of the promise came, 
 A Saviour ! born to-day in Bethlehem; 
 Gabriel, the news, the joyful news revealed 
 By night, to some poor shepherds in the field, 
 
 Go now to Bethlehem, behold the Babe 
 Though Lord of all, He's in a manger laid ! 
 Among the horned cattle there you'll find 
 The Prince of Peace, the Saviour of mankind. 
 
 The Shepherds then in haste obeyed his word, 
 Guided by flaming star to view their Lord; 
 They entered in, when, judge of their surprise- 
 An infant, a Redeemer, burst upon their eyes. 
 
 Amazed, affrighted, trembling, they 
 Gazed on the Babe as there He lay; 
 Though in a manger yet He bore 
 Hare tokens of Almighty power. 
 
88 TO THE MOCK BIRD. 
 
 TO THE MOCK-BIRD. 
 
 Bird of the woodland, sing me a song, 
 Fain would I list to tliee, all the day long. 
 Out from thy cosy nest, 'mid leafy bower, 
 Lift high thy tuneful voice 'tis summer's hour. 
 
 Bird of the forest, with voice sublime, 
 Gladdening w T ith thy music all summer time, 
 E'en while the Autumn's winds bend low the trees, 
 Sweetly still thy carols float with the breeze. 
 
 Queen of the song-realm, what doest thou ? 
 Up amid the leaflets, rocking on the bough, 
 Ah ! little trickster, building thee a nest, 
 Cosy, soft and warm, for thy wee ones to rest. 
 
 Bird of the south-land, haste thee and bring 
 Tributes of thy melody, welcoming the spring, 
 Say to sombre winter up and away, 
 This my time of minstrelsy, bright, sunny May 
 

REV. SAMUEL WESTOK 
 
 Oh ! surely for thee were the gates ajar, 
 
 As thy chariot onward sped. 
 When with brightened eye and youth renewed, 
 
 Triumphant thou did'st tread 
 Through the gates of death, to the portals bright, 
 
 While the ransomed myriads sing, 
 ' ' Lift up your heads, ye Golden Gates, ' ' 
 
 Let the aged pilgrim in. 
 
 No terrors for thee had the darksome vale, 
 
 For like the wise virgins of old, 
 
 Thou keep'st thy lamp burning and trimmed from 
 thy youth, 
 
 Till three-score and ten were well told. 
 And oft, as a shepherd, that tends his flock, 
 
 Thou did'st them to still waters lead, 
 And 'mid the green pastures of justified grace, 
 
 Thou lovedst thy children to feed. 
 
 Then Pastor and Leader, fond Parent, adieu, 
 
 Till xhe last, grand trump shall sound, 
 When shepherd and flock united once more, 
 Shall echo a long harvest home. 
 
TO KEY. THADDEUS SALTUS. 
 
 TO KEY. THADDEUS SALTUS. 
 
 Sleep, Christian warrior, sleep, 
 
 Life's fitful dream is o'er, 
 Thy pain-tossed bark is anchored 
 
 Safe on the golden shore. 
 ^Keath the green sward we lay thee 
 
 Thus early to thy rest, 
 And press the sod thus lightly, 
 
 Upon thy gentle breast. 
 
 'Though but in manhood's prime. 
 
 When the dread summons came, 
 To hush the voice so well attuned 
 
 To preaching "In His Name." 
 Thou did'st not murmur, but with joy 
 
 Obeyed the Master's word, 
 And rapture crowned did'st enter 
 
 The palace of thy Lord. 
 
 'Then sweetly sleep, dear Kector, 
 
 Thy grave we'll deck with flowers, 
 An earnest of that Better Land 
 
 Of ever blooming bowers. 
 Around this spot a halo twines, 
 
 While angels vigils keep, 
 And we rejoice that thus ' ' He gives 
 
 To His beloved sleep." 
 
TRIBUTE TO CAPT. F. W. DAWSON. 93 
 
 TKIBUTE TO 
 CAPT. F. W. DAWSON. 
 
 Carolina mourns to-day. For he, the gifted 
 Bon of her adoption, is no more. The voice 
 That stirred the bosoms of her sons, and 
 Made her ramparts ring from mount to 
 Sea-board, is hushed in death. His 
 Noble form, and nobler mien that 
 Never faltered 'mid the cannon's 
 Roar, lies motionless. 
 
 So Carolina weeps. 'Tis meet she should 
 Her chieftain lieth low. In this 
 Grand, old City by the Sea, this Venice 
 Of the Southland. The home he loved 
 So well. When the grey morn breaks, 
 And when the twilight lingers, they 
 Chant in low, sweet music, evening 
 Vespers for his soul. 
 
 Then, Carolinians, build a monument for him ; 
 
 But not 011 marble cold. Not on 
 
 Towering dome or polished shaft, 
 
 Should his memory be engraved. But 
 
 In the hearts of those he loved and 
 
 Served, should immortelles, perpetual, bloom; 
 
 And incense, fragrant, ever rise 
 
 To his memory. 
 
 Requiescat in Pace. 
 7 
 
94 MRS. LOUISE B. WE8TON. 
 
 MRS. LOUISE B. WESTOK 
 
 My Mother ! With the angels now, 
 Life's race completely run; 
 
 The Pilgrim's cross is laid aside, 
 The Christian's crown is won. 
 
 Full two-score years has thy frail bark 
 
 Relentlessly been driven, 
 Along the rugged shoals of time 
 
 Now safely moored in heaven. 
 
 Some vision bright of Eden's land 
 Some glimpse from Nebo's crest 
 
 So ravished thy enraptured soul, 
 Then panting for its rest, 
 
 That when the City bathed in gold 
 Full burst upon your sight, 
 
 You would not tarry with us more; 
 Your spirit took its flight. 
 
 My Mother, when life's sands run low, 
 
 In love, in kindness come, 
 And take the spirit of thy child, 
 
 And bid her ' ' welcome home. ' 
 
LINES TO MRS. ISABEL PEACE. 95 
 
 LINES TO MRS. ISABEL PEACE. 
 
 'Tis said but a name is friendship, 
 
 Soulless, and shallow, and vain; 
 That the human heart ne'er beats in response, 
 
 Or echoes sweet sympathy's strain. 
 
 But to-day in ''memory's mirror" 
 
 Came a dear and honored one, 
 Whom in days gone by had lived and had loved, 
 
 Ere her heavenly goal was won. 
 
 Her countenance beamed as of yore, 
 
 With radiant smiles of love, 
 And I felt that the friendship she lavished me here, 
 
 Had ripened in heaven above. 
 
 I felt that her voice so winsome, 
 
 Attuned to holier rhymes, 
 Would in soft cadence tell of friendship's truth, 
 
 Like harp of a thousand strings. 
 
 Rise up and call her blest ! 
 
 Ye children of her love, 
 For a friendlier hand or a kindlier heart 
 
 Ne'er entered the mansions above. 
 
ALPHONSE CAMPBELL FORDHAM. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 ALPHONSE CAMPBELL FOKDHAM. 
 
 AGED 6 YEARS, 2 MONTHS, 20 DAYS. 
 
 Almost whose last words were 
 "We shall meet beyond the River.'' 
 
 Yes, my darling, when life's shadows 
 
 Over me do darkly fall, 
 Meet me surely at the river 
 
 As I haste to obey the call. 
 Gladly through the darksome valley, 
 
 Through its portals, grim and cold, 
 Will I hasten 'till my nestling 
 
 Meets me at the "Gates of Gold/' 
 
 Sadly do I miss my wee one, 
 
 None can h'll thy vacant place, 
 Only in my dreams I fold thee, 
 
 Only then behold thy face. 
 See thee in thy childish beauty, 
 
 Clasp thy little hand in mine, 
 Ever will those moments chain me, 
 
 Ever in my heart enshrined. 
 
 Little Heartsease, i i bud of promise, ' ' 
 
 Broken off in early morn, 
 Now can sin no more pollute thee 
 
 In the angels' bosom borne. 
 
\ 
 
 MR. EDWARD FORDHAM. 
 
 In that land no pain or anguish 
 Ever can my child enfold, 
 
 Then my darling meet thy mother 
 Surely at the "Gates of Gold." 
 
 ME. EDWARD FORDHAM. 
 
 When the Autumn's breezes 
 Were sweeping o'er the land. 
 
 Came the mighty mandate 
 From the upper land. 
 
 Now from pain and anguish 
 
 Thou hast found relief, 
 Passed through death's dark portal, 
 
 Left this world of grief. 
 
 Now thou'rt safely anchored 
 
 In the port above, 
 Gladly do we offer thee 
 
 Symbols of our love. 
 
 When the welcome summons 
 Shall echo through the skies, 
 
 Then our ransomed brother 
 Will hear the word "Arise.'* 
 
I . 
 98 MRS. JENNKTTE BONNKAU. 
 
 DEATH OF A GRANDPARENT. 
 MES. JENKETTE BONNEAU. 
 
 Rest thee aged pilgrim, now^tliy toils are o'er; 
 Peacefully thou'st landed over Jordan's shore; 
 Safe from all the sorrows, free from all the strife y 
 Thou hast passed death's portals, entered into life. 
 
 Doubtless thou wert weary, tempest tossed so long; 
 Doubtless thou wert longing to join the happy throng; 
 Doubtless many loved ones on the other shore. 
 Whispered to thee softly ".Stay on earth no more.'* 
 
 Whispered thee, come higher, where perennial bloom 
 Shall with heightened luster its wonted sway resume. 
 ' ' Come where peaceful rivers quietly do flow- 
 Hasten mother, hasten, from that world of woe." 
 
 Then to fields Elysian she joyfully did soar, 
 In the blest land of Canaan to dwell forever more; 
 All through the ' ' Golden City' ' she happily doth roam, 
 Oft wondering why she stay'd so long away from home. 
 
 So 'neath the bending willows we've laid thee down 
 
 to rest, 
 
 Well knowing thou'rt reposing secure on Jesus' breast; 
 Well knowing that one day will come, the welcome 
 
 word Arise, 
 Come up, thou ransomed mortal, to thy Saviour in 
 
 the skies. 
 
QUEENIE. TO AN INFANT. 99 
 
 QUEENIE. 
 
 For one brief day, did Queenie stay 
 To brighten each fond heart, 
 
 Then sped like dove to realms above, 
 Ne'er more to feel death's dart. 
 
 O ! in that land, where infants stand 
 
 Arrayed in spotless sheen, 
 No griefs to share, nor sorrows bear, 
 
 No death to intervene. 
 
 We would not care, nay, would not dare 
 
 To wish thee back again, 
 Nay, rather say, ' ' Queenie, good day, 
 
 Till we your rest attain. " 
 
 TO AN INFANT. 
 
 Just as the twilight's holy hour 
 
 In quietude so deep, 
 Was hushing nature to repose, 
 
 Our "Charlie" fell asleep. 
 
 Just in the bloom of infancy, 
 We laid him to his rest, 
 
 Well knowing that our angel boy 
 Was numbered with the blest. 
 
100 SUSAN EUGENIA BENNETT. 
 
 Well knowing that the Saviour said 
 Oh ! suffer such to come, 
 
 ' ' Forbid them not, ' ' for they are Mine, 
 And heaven is their home. 
 
 So bow we to God's gracious will, 
 For he was lent, not given; 
 
 And let this cheer our drooping hearts, 
 Our Charlie is in heaven. 
 
 IN MEMOKIAM. 
 SUSAN EUGENIA BENNETT. 
 
 When the Sabbath was declining, just at twilight's 
 
 mystic hour, 
 Left the "Upper Courts" an angel, sent to cull our 
 
 sweetest flower, 
 Not in judgment, not in anger, did this white-winged 
 
 seraph come, 
 But to lead a little Pilgrim through Death's Portal to 
 
 her home. 
 
 And our angel child was ready, aye, and anxious to 
 
 depart 
 Not the slightest doubt o'ershadowed her trusting 
 
 little heart; 
 
 But with a brow as radiant as rainbow in the sky, 
 She whispered softly "Mother, I'm not afraid to die. " 
 
MRS. EEBECCA WESTON. 101 
 
 When shall these little, weary limbs lie down to sweet 
 
 repose, 
 'Mid the green, the verdant pastures where the limpid 
 
 water flows ; 
 When shall I the Golden City sparkling in its beauty 
 
 see, 
 "When shall it be, my Saviour, O ! when shall I be 
 
 free?" 
 
 Ere the week-day with its labors, its duties and its 
 
 care 
 Was ushered in, our darling was found on earth no 
 
 where ; 
 But with the saints in glory, and the Saviour she 
 
 adored, 
 She's happy and at rest, for aye and ever with the 
 
 Lord . 
 
 MRS. EEBECCA WESTON. 
 
 " For so He givetli His beloved sleep." 
 She is not dead, but sleepeth; 
 
 Ere long will the morning break, 
 When those we love who sleep in Him, 
 
 Shall from the dust awake. 
 
 She is not dead, but sleepeth ; 
 Soon, soon will the ransomed sing 
 
 O ! grave, where is thy victory ? 
 O ! death, where is thy sting ? 
 
102 MRS. E. COHES BROWN. OBITUARY. 
 
 MKS. E. COHRS BROWN. 
 
 Tread not the earth where lies her youthful form, 
 Grow violets, sweet violets, above that cherished 
 
 mound ; 
 
 Bid zephyrs softly whisper in accents sweet and low, 
 Not dead, not lost, but only gone a little while before. 
 
 So, I, though bowed in anguish, yield her spirit to its 
 
 God, 
 And meekly clasp the smiting hand, and kiss the 
 
 chast'ning rod; 
 May I, when time is over, greet thee on the other 
 
 shore, 
 To live and love for aye and aye, where partings are 
 
 no more. 
 
 MRS. MARY FURMAN WESTON BYRD. 
 OBITUARY. 
 
 BYRD. "As one who wraps the drapery of his 
 couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams, ' ' thus 
 sweetly passed from earth to glory, on the morning of 
 the 19th of February, 1884, MRS. MARY FURMAN 
 WESTON BYRD, in the 92d year of her age, leaving two 
 children, twelve grand -children, and twenty great - 
 grand-children, to mourn her irreparable loss. 
 
 "Rising up they call her blessed." Another 
 
MRS. MARY FURMAN WESTON RYRD. 103 
 
 i 
 
 ancient landmark has been gathered to her 
 Fathers. With her deatli a link is severed which 
 hound two centuries together. The venerable subject 
 of this notice was born in 1792, of parents who were 
 both exiles from their native land; one being born in 
 Morocco, Barbary States, the other in Marseilles, 
 France. During her eventful life she passed through 
 three wars; that of 1812 in her girlhood, after the 
 Mexican and the late Civil Wars. Possessed of a 
 loving heart and cheerful disposition, charity was the 
 guiding star of her life. Her widow's mite was never 
 found wanting. In her the distressed and the needy 
 met always a ready response. She died as she lived, 
 beloved and venerated by legions to whom her very 
 name was a household word. So then, 
 
 Though no blossoms cluster 
 
 Above thy aged brow, 
 Though winter winds are breathing 
 
 A requiem soft and low, 
 We look beyond earth's shadows, 
 
 Beyond death's misty plain, 
 And though we sadly miss thee, 
 
 Will not wish thee back again. 
 
 Could we but see thee, dear one, 
 
 In the Palace of thy Lord, 
 With thy robe of snowy whiteness, 
 
 And with more than 'youth renewed. 
 
104 MRS. MARY FORM AN WESTON BYRD. 
 
 No more on bended willows 
 
 Would our broken harps remain, 
 
 Take us beauty for our ashes, 
 Take us gladness for our pain. 
 
 
MBS. MARY FURMAN WESTON BYRO. 
 
 No more on bended willows 
 
 Would our broken harps remain, 
 
 Take us beauty for our asln-s. 
 Take us gladness for our pain. 
 
i