 | Poems of home and country |  |
1
FAMILY PICTURES.
I. DOMESTIC BEGINNINGS.
CHILDHOOD MEMORIES.
Oh, no, they shall not be forgot,
Those days of simple truth,—
The harmless sports and noisy joys
Of boyhood and of youth;
Those days of simple truth,—
The harmless sports and noisy joys
Of boyhood and of youth;
Chorus.
But when upon those early scenesWe suffer thought to dwell,
We'll drink to their dear memory from
The pure, the pure deep well.
We wander o'er each scene anew,
We tread each hallowed spot
Where time in giddy gladness flew,—
Oh, can they be forgot!
We tread each hallowed spot
Where time in giddy gladness flew,—
Oh, can they be forgot!
Chorus.
Roll back, roll back the tide of cares,
Roll back the swelling sea;
An hour we'll give to think upon
Our days of youthful glee;
Roll back the swelling sea;
An hour we'll give to think upon
Our days of youthful glee;
Chorus.
2
But ah! those cheerful scenes are gone,
Their joys fled fast away;
The friends of our bright boyhood's morn,—
Oh, tell me, where are they!
Their joys fled fast away;
The friends of our bright boyhood's morn,—
Oh, tell me, where are they!
Chorus.
Bereaved, but bowing to our lot,
Our onward path we tread,
As mournfully we gather up
The mantles of the dead.
Our onward path we tread,
As mournfully we gather up
The mantles of the dead.
Chorus.
The places where our youth was spent;
The friends who now are not;
The scenes we loved, those joyous hours,—
They shall not be forgot.
The friends who now are not;
The scenes we loved, those joyous hours,—
They shall not be forgot.
Chorus.
TO LITTLE MARY WHITE.
“OUR FIRST-BORN.”
Thou precious pledge of love,Of ties that bind two kindred hearts in one,
Dear infant Mary; 't is with joy we hail
Thy coming; and with joy we both shall strive
To make thee happy, useful, thro' the scenes
Of mortal life. Heaven watch o'er thee, my child,
Thro' all thy infant slumbers; guard thee well
In youth's most tempting perils; spare thy life,
To us as precious as our own, and give,
When life shall end, a crown of joy.
3
My child, this is a world of grief and change;
And 't is a high behest, beyond the lot
Of changeful earthliness and worldly pride,
Which thou art sent to finish. When the day
That brings the power of knowing right and wrong
Shall be to thee, whate'er thou art, and where,
Know this, and 'grave it on thy memory,
Thy father and thy mother, fearing God,
Did, on this day which gave thee life and light,
To Him that life and light devote. Know, then,
Thou must not think thyself thine own on earth,
For thou art wholly consecrate to God,
Born for His service, given for His praise.
So live that thou mayst honor Him, and then
Sit down in heaven with all the glorified.
Waterville, Aug. 5, 1835.
CRADLE SONG.
FROM THE GERMAN.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Our cottage vale is deep;
The little lamb is on the green,
His snowy fleece is soft and clean,
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Our cottage vale is deep;
The little lamb is on the green,
His snowy fleece is soft and clean,
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep!
I would not, would not weep;
The little lamb—he never cries—
How bright and happy are his eyes,
Sleep, baby, sleep!
I would not, would not weep;
The little lamb—he never cries—
How bright and happy are his eyes,
Sleep, baby, sleep!
4
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Thy rest shall angels keep;
The lamb before the doors shall feed,
And suffer neither want nor need.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Thy rest shall angels keep;
The lamb before the doors shall feed,
And suffer neither want nor need.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Near where the woodbines creep;
Be like the lamb so meek and mild,
A sweet and kind and gentle child.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Near where the woodbines creep;
Be like the lamb so meek and mild,
A sweet and kind and gentle child.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
SALLIE.
Thus comes another; may she stand
Among the saints in light,
Blest Saviour, at thy own right hand,
And walk with thee in white.
Among the saints in light,
Blest Saviour, at thy own right hand,
And walk with thee in white.
And should her pilgrimage be long,
And sharp affliction's rod,
Or short her pathway to the skies,
Oh, may it end in God!
And sharp affliction's rod,
Or short her pathway to the skies,
Oh, may it end in God!
October 18, 1838.
5
TO MY BLESSED WIFE.
ON THE BIRTH OF OUR “FIRST-BORN.”
'T was an eventful day that made thee feel
The breath of thy first-born. There are on earth
A thousand pleasant sounds, but none like that
In which the little babe, by slender cries,
Its earliest wants, else all unknown, reveals.
There is no sight to the young mother's eye
So full of sweet attractiveness, in all the scenes,
Tho' grand or beautiful in every part,
Of the Creator's works, as in the form
Of infant feebleness, and the first ray
In which its opening eye, unknowingly,
Looks up.
The breath of thy first-born. There are on earth
A thousand pleasant sounds, but none like that
In which the little babe, by slender cries,
Its earliest wants, else all unknown, reveals.
There is no sight to the young mother's eye
So full of sweet attractiveness, in all the scenes,
Tho' grand or beautiful in every part,
Of the Creator's works, as in the form
Of infant feebleness, and the first ray
In which its opening eye, unknowingly,
Looks up.
Well, 't is a holy gift. To us
The God we worship hath entrusted now
One of His jewels, to be trained on earth
For heaven's bright treasure-house. Oh, may He spare
The life so sweet and young, and ours, so full
Of weal or woe to her condition. And may He,
Who heard the prayer of Hannah, list to ours,
And take this dedicated child, to serve
And glorify Him here—then shine above,
A star of matchless radiance, in the crown
Of our Redeemer.
The God we worship hath entrusted now
One of His jewels, to be trained on earth
For heaven's bright treasure-house. Oh, may He spare
The life so sweet and young, and ours, so full
Of weal or woe to her condition. And may He,
Who heard the prayer of Hannah, list to ours,
And take this dedicated child, to serve
And glorify Him here—then shine above,
A star of matchless radiance, in the crown
Of our Redeemer.
August 6, 1835.
6
OUR FRANK.
At first, a sickly babe, with angel face
And gentle heart, and meek, fond, clinging ways,
O'er whom the tearful eye and careful hand
Watched long and faithful, half in hope, and half
Too near despair, dreaming that thy young life,
Like flickering taper, would ere long go out,
And early blight assail thy slight weak frame.
Now thou art grown a strong and noble boy;
Health flushes thy young cheek, and from thy mouth
Pour shouts of childish joy. What hopes in thee
Lie treasured, child of our prayers, our eldest son!
And gentle heart, and meek, fond, clinging ways,
O'er whom the tearful eye and careful hand
Watched long and faithful, half in hope, and half
Too near despair, dreaming that thy young life,
Like flickering taper, would ere long go out,
And early blight assail thy slight weak frame.
Now thou art grown a strong and noble boy;
Health flushes thy young cheek, and from thy mouth
Pour shouts of childish joy. What hopes in thee
Lie treasured, child of our prayers, our eldest son!
God keep thee, Frank, firm in temptation's hour!
'T will come on thee; it has on all the earth.
God be thy shield, and God thy comforter;
We yield thee up to Him. Be thou His child,
Prompt to obey His will; His messenger,
To bear to darkened men the light of life;
His loving, loved disciple. May thy head
Rest on the Saviour's bosom, fitting place
For one whom earthly rest can never fill;
For gentle souls, for spirits born to be
Immortal as their author.
'T will come on thee; it has on all the earth.
God be thy shield, and God thy comforter;
We yield thee up to Him. Be thou His child,
Prompt to obey His will; His messenger,
To bear to darkened men the light of life;
His loving, loved disciple. May thy head
Rest on the Saviour's bosom, fitting place
For one whom earthly rest can never fill;
For gentle souls, for spirits born to be
Immortal as their author.
Live, fair boy,
A pillar of the truth on earth, and then
A gem, to shine with living, glowing light
Bright in the Saviour's coronet.
A pillar of the truth on earth, and then
A gem, to shine with living, glowing light
Bright in the Saviour's coronet.
September 5, 1836.
7
TO LITTLE ANN.
Our babe, escaping from life's woes
Ere one brief day was given,
Just gleamed on earth, a fitful ray,
Then shone, a star in heaven.
Ere one brief day was given,
Just gleamed on earth, a fitful ray,
Then shone, a star in heaven.
At sunset's mild and chastened hour
We laid her 'neath the sod,—
Our earliest representative
Before the throne of God.
We laid her 'neath the sod,—
Our earliest representative
Before the throne of God.
September 15, 1837.
DANIEL APPLETON WHITE.
Another bantling! lo, he comes,
Not Miss, but Mr., Fudge;
A master-spirit, born to be
Surnamed “the little judge”!
Not Miss, but Mr., Fudge;
A master-spirit, born to be
Surnamed “the little judge”!
A portly personage, and fair,
In wit and knowledge big;
Fat as an alderman, and decked,
Judge-like, in his white wig.
In wit and knowledge big;
Fat as an alderman, and decked,
Judge-like, in his white wig.
8
Off! Puss and Frank and Sallie, off!
The Master bids you trudge!
For I, in all these parts, am made
His Majesty, the Judge!
The Master bids you trudge!
For I, in all these parts, am made
His Majesty, the Judge!
“Tin plate and mug are mine,—who dares
My rank of power to grudge?
I'll have my way; I know I'm right,
Left-handed, but a judge!
My rank of power to grudge?
I'll have my way; I know I'm right,
Left-handed, but a judge!
“Off from the staircase! children, off!”
(Why don't the babies budge?)
“I'm coming down at one broad leap!”
There sprawling lies the judge.
(Why don't the babies budge?)
“I'm coming down at one broad leap!”
There sprawling lies the judge.
Whatever mighty man has done,
Another, doubtless, can;
Now don't you think this wondrous judge
Will make a wondrous man?
Another, doubtless, can;
Now don't you think this wondrous judge
Will make a wondrous man?
June 18, 1840.
It was understood from the beginning that he was to be a lawyer, like his great-uncle whose name he bore; but he became a minister and a Doctor of Divinity.
9
II. ANNIVERSARIES.
TO MY DAUGHTER MARY, ON HER EIGHTEENTH BIRTH-DAY.
So! leap the limit now that parts
The woman from the child:
Enter life's great career at last,—
No more with toys beguiled.
The woman from the child:
Enter life's great career at last,—
No more with toys beguiled.
Earth spreads its pageant at thy feet,
The bright world opens wide,—
Go, be a woman, glad assume
The toils which thee abide!
The bright world opens wide,—
Go, be a woman, glad assume
The toils which thee abide!
Or joy, or woe,—no tongue can tell
What fate thy lot may be;
But meet it bravely, strong in faith,
God rules thy destiny.
What fate thy lot may be;
But meet it bravely, strong in faith,
God rules thy destiny.
Like breezes o'er the bending grain,
Like sunlight on the wave,
Earth's rapid joys and trials pass;
Jehovah lives to save.
Like sunlight on the wave,
Earth's rapid joys and trials pass;
Jehovah lives to save.
Go, be a woman; round thy path
Make love and gladness spring;
Reap in all fields; from every task
Some sheaves of goodness bring.
Make love and gladness spring;
Reap in all fields; from every task
Some sheaves of goodness bring.
So shall life's current cheerful flow;
So bright shall be thy days;
No flattering words shall make thy fame;
Thy works shall be thy praise.
So bright shall be thy days;
No flattering words shall make thy fame;
Thy works shall be thy praise.
10
TO MY DAUGHTER MARY, ON HER WEDDING DAY.
Forth from the sheltering wing of home,
Forth from its sunlit bowers,
Fly like the bird, intent to roam,
And try her new fledged powers.
Forth from its sunlit bowers,
Fly like the bird, intent to roam,
And try her new fledged powers.
Peace spread its gentle pinions o'er
The nest so warm and fair;
And nature's glories round her pour,
When free in upper air.
The nest so warm and fair;
And nature's glories round her pour,
When free in upper air.
O'er broad, sweet fields, on joyous wings,
With warbling throat, she flies;
She sings and soars, and soars and sings,
Plumed for the distant skies.
With warbling throat, she flies;
She sings and soars, and soars and sings,
Plumed for the distant skies.
So from thy dear, delightful home,
With trusting faith aspire;
Life's beckoning labors bid thee come;
The high behest desire.
With trusting faith aspire;
Life's beckoning labors bid thee come;
The high behest desire.
Like evening sunlight on the hill,
Like verdure on the sod,
Love, pure and ardent, lingers still
Where'er thy steps have trod.
Like verdure on the sod,
Love, pure and ardent, lingers still
Where'er thy steps have trod.
April 27, 1858.
11
TO MY DAUGHTER, MARY W. JONES,
ON HER TWENTY-FIFTH MARRIAGE ANNIVERSARY.
APRIL 27, 1883.
Backward, to-day, my sunny thoughts are turning,
Speeding through happy years, loving and learning,
So gently led through flowery paths of blessing,
Life's truest joys in all their wealth possessing.
Speeding through happy years, loving and learning,
So gently led through flowery paths of blessing,
Life's truest joys in all their wealth possessing.
What was my wish,—my young heart's early craving,
What forms of bliss, before my fancy waving,
Still lured me on,—life's pathway scarcely broken,
And love's first lisping utterance scarcely spoken?
What forms of bliss, before my fancy waving,
Still lured me on,—life's pathway scarcely broken,
And love's first lisping utterance scarcely spoken?
I hoped, I sang, so happy in my dreaming,—
Would the reality be like the seeming?
Have I life's choicest pleasures overstated?
Have I its Paradises antedated?
Would the reality be like the seeming?
Have I life's choicest pleasures overstated?
Have I its Paradises antedated?
Or will the birds of bliss be ever winging
Their joyous flight around, soaring and singing;
Day feel no chill of twilight's damp descending,
Nor sunshine, risen in glow, find darkened ending?
Their joyous flight around, soaring and singing;
Day feel no chill of twilight's damp descending,
Nor sunshine, risen in glow, find darkened ending?
Thank God, thank God, the bright path grows but brighter!
Thank God, pain's light yoke grows forever lighter!
The sunny course, which seemed at first so winning,
Confirms, a thousand fold, its fair beginning.
Thank God, pain's light yoke grows forever lighter!
The sunny course, which seemed at first so winning,
Confirms, a thousand fold, its fair beginning.
12
And thus the years, full five times five, so fleeting,
Told the sweet tale of strength and weakness meeting,
In summertide alike, and stormy weather,
Drawing the weak and strong closer together.
Told the sweet tale of strength and weakness meeting,
In summertide alike, and stormy weather,
Drawing the weak and strong closer together.
And one who came, full welcome, in life's entry,
Stands at our age's door, a loving sentry;
Fitly, with filial clasp in clasp maternal,
Binding the love-knot of our season vernal.
Stands at our age's door, a loving sentry;
Fitly, with filial clasp in clasp maternal,
Binding the love-knot of our season vernal.
Hail, wedded pair, be yours no day of sorrows,
But only brilliant morns and glad to-morrows,
Till life at last, from earthly, grows supernal,
And joy, from earthly joy, becomes eternal.
But only brilliant morns and glad to-morrows,
Till life at last, from earthly, grows supernal,
And joy, from earthly joy, becomes eternal.
TO SALLIE, ON HER EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY.
Spring, with its bright and cheerful hours,
Flies like the mist away;
But weaves around our fragrant bowers
The light of summer's ray.
Flies like the mist away;
But weaves around our fragrant bowers
The light of summer's ray.
And summer, with its brilliant beams,
Gives way to autumn's reign;
And every swelling garner teems
With heaps of golden grain.
Gives way to autumn's reign;
And every swelling garner teems
With heaps of golden grain.
So childhood, like the spring, retires,
That nobler youth may rise;
And youth to riper age aspires
And yearns for Paradise.
That nobler youth may rise;
And youth to riper age aspires
And yearns for Paradise.
13
So life rolls on; each precious hour
Swells with the life to be,
And ripening years prepare the dower
Of immortality.
Swells with the life to be,
And ripening years prepare the dower
Of immortality.
Leave the glad memories of the past,
To holier calls respond;
Upward with joyful vigor haste,
The goal is still beyond.
To holier calls respond;
Upward with joyful vigor haste,
The goal is still beyond.
Passed is the limit that divides
Childhood from ripening life;
Go, see what work thy hand abides,
And dare the noble strife.
Childhood from ripening life;
Go, see what work thy hand abides,
And dare the noble strife.
God be thy guide,—His sheltering hand
Direct and guard thy way;
So shall life's promises expand
In fair, immortal day.
Direct and guard thy way;
So shall life's promises expand
In fair, immortal day.
October 18, 1856.
TO FRANK, ON HIS TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY.
SEPTEMBER 5, 1857.
So! be a man and gird thy soul
To life's exalted aims!
The world awaits thee; go and meet
Its just and lofty claims.
To life's exalted aims!
The world awaits thee; go and meet
Its just and lofty claims.
Temptation round thy bark will roar;
Stem its o'erwhelming tide,
Breast all its waves with manly force,
And in God's strength abide.
Stem its o'erwhelming tide,
Breast all its waves with manly force,
And in God's strength abide.
14
God calls the workman to his toil;
Go with strong arm and free,
To do His bidding, and await
Life's opening destiny.
Go with strong arm and free,
To do His bidding, and await
Life's opening destiny.
As springs the oak, with budding hope,
From the small acorn riven,
Spreads far and wide its sheltering boughs,
And lifts its head to heaven,—
From the small acorn riven,
Spreads far and wide its sheltering boughs,
And lifts its head to heaven,—
So from this starting point of life
Pursue thy widening way,
Blessing and blest, till time shall bring
The light of endless day.
Pursue thy widening way,
Blessing and blest, till time shall bring
The light of endless day.
EWING AT TWENTY-ONE.
Launched safely on life's sunny main,
With morn's bright promise round thee spread,
Live nobly, that earth's waiting train
May pour their blessings on thy head.
With morn's bright promise round thee spread,
Live nobly, that earth's waiting train
May pour their blessings on thy head.
What e'er the voice of duty claims,
Go forth, thy destiny to meet;
Let tireless hope and lofty aims
Make darkness light and labor sweet.
Go forth, thy destiny to meet;
Let tireless hope and lofty aims
Make darkness light and labor sweet.
Sow goodly seed in every field,
From every field rich harvests bring;
None is too poor some fruit to yield,
Let ripening glory crown life's spring.
From every field rich harvests bring;
None is too poor some fruit to yield,
Let ripening glory crown life's spring.
15
So o'er thee—for love cannot tire—
God's covenant grace shall still abide,
Like Israel's pillared cloud and fire,—
By day, thy light; by night, thy guide.
God's covenant grace shall still abide,
Like Israel's pillared cloud and fire,—
By day, thy light; by night, thy guide.
And when, like autumn's withered leaves,
The proud, the base, unnoticed, fall,
Thy deeds shall be like garnered sheaves,
And God shall bind and keep them all.
The proud, the base, unnoticed, fall,
Thy deeds shall be like garnered sheaves,
And God shall bind and keep them all.
TO MY WIFE AT FIFTY.
'T is fifty years,—God bless her,—
A little more, perhaps;
When the heart is good and loving,
How fast the years elapse.
We count time, not by pulse-beats,
Or wrinkles on the brow,
But by love's broad, lighted circle,—
An ever-lingering Now.
A little more, perhaps;
When the heart is good and loving,
How fast the years elapse.
We count time, not by pulse-beats,
Or wrinkles on the brow,
But by love's broad, lighted circle,—
An ever-lingering Now.
I spoke of wrinkles—did I?
Oh, no, the loving lines
Drawn round the earth, like girdles,
Have here impressed their signs;
And if white rose leaves sprinkle
Their sheen upon her hair,
The once bright auburn tresses
A silvery beauty wear.
Oh, no, the loving lines
Drawn round the earth, like girdles,
Have here impressed their signs;
And if white rose leaves sprinkle
Their sheen upon her hair,
The once bright auburn tresses
A silvery beauty wear.
16
I wrote it fifty,—did I?
It might be thirty less,—
Her young heart has such power
To care for and to bless;
As sunshine near the evening
Smiles with a fairer ray,
And makes the hour of setting
The sweetest in the day.
It might be thirty less,—
Her young heart has such power
To care for and to bless;
As sunshine near the evening
Smiles with a fairer ray,
And makes the hour of setting
The sweetest in the day.
I might have written twenty,—
But one that filled her nest
Boasts of her thirty summers,
And a rosebud on her breast;
And one, grave years creep o'er him
And graver scenes employ,—
Now, a young, doting father,
But her once fair-haired boy;
But one that filled her nest
Boasts of her thirty summers,
And a rosebud on her breast;
And one, grave years creep o'er him
And graver scenes employ,—
Now, a young, doting father,
But her once fair-haired boy;
And one, her babe caressing,
With fond, maternal look;
And one, his life consuming
O'er legal brief and book;
And two, intently watching
The shadows cast before,—
I might have written twenty,
But yet it must be more.
With fond, maternal look;
And one, his life consuming
O'er legal brief and book;
And two, intently watching
The shadows cast before,—
I might have written twenty,
But yet it must be more.
Yes, fifty years,—God bless her,—
Perhaps a little more;
No matter what the number,
'T is all a shining store,—
As summer wakes new blessings
With every day that springs;
And every breeze comes wafting
Fresh fragrance on its wings.
Perhaps a little more;
No matter what the number,
'T is all a shining store,—
As summer wakes new blessings
With every day that springs;
And every breeze comes wafting
Fresh fragrance on its wings.
17
The days, in love and blessing,
Like glancing sunbeams sped,
Since angels sang, responsive,
Around her cradle-bed;
They chanted love and promise,
Not time, or years, to be;
No matter what the number,
Perhaps 't is fifty-three.
Like glancing sunbeams sped,
Since angels sang, responsive,
Around her cradle-bed;
They chanted love and promise,
Not time, or years, to be;
No matter what the number,
Perhaps 't is fifty-three.
February 8, 1866.
OUR GOLDEN WEDDING.
1834–1884.
Behold, dear wife, how things have changed,
Through sunshine and through showers;
The spring has ripened into fall,
The buds have turned to flowers.
Through sunshine and through showers;
The spring has ripened into fall,
The buds have turned to flowers.
What long, wide paths our feet have trod,
Since the far days of old!
But love has changed each woe to good,
The silver moon to gold.
Since the far days of old!
But love has changed each woe to good,
The silver moon to gold.
These fifty years of wedded love,
How brief and few they seem!
Swift as a summer-day of joy,
Eventful as a dream!
How brief and few they seem!
Swift as a summer-day of joy,
Eventful as a dream!
The babes we fostered long ago,
And called them “children” then;
The girls are into mothers grown,
The boys to stalwart men.
And called them “children” then;
The girls are into mothers grown,
The boys to stalwart men.
18
We launched our bark in sunny youth,—
The date seems far away;
But years have shortened into months,
Months into fleeting days.
The date seems far away;
But years have shortened into months,
Months into fleeting days.
Once, like new ships, that ride in port,
With canvas all unfurled,
Successful voyagers, our keel
Has sailed half round the world.
With canvas all unfurled,
Successful voyagers, our keel
Has sailed half round the world.
By day God's loving cloud has moved,
A shelter o'er our head;
And still by night our winding course
The pillared fire has led.
A shelter o'er our head;
And still by night our winding course
The pillared fire has led.
Sail on, fair craft, so bravely kept
Unharmed by wind or wave;
The hand so skilful to direct,
Is mighty, too, to save.
Unharmed by wind or wave;
The hand so skilful to direct,
Is mighty, too, to save.
Sail on, sail on, till golden light
Shines o'er the distant sea,
And guides the vessel to its port,
Blest immortality.
Shines o'er the distant sea,
And guides the vessel to its port,
Blest immortality.
September 16, 1884.
19
TO CARRIE ON HER FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY.
Child of my warm affection,
Hast thou so stately grown?
And can thy years be fifty,—
My little one, my own?
Thy love, thy sunny temper,
Thy sweet and blessed ways
Made thee a child of promise
In all thy early days.
Hast thou so stately grown?
And can thy years be fifty,—
My little one, my own?
Thy love, thy sunny temper,
Thy sweet and blessed ways
Made thee a child of promise
In all thy early days.
The years have passed so swiftly,
I took no note of time;
Art thou a wife,—a mother?
While babes around thee climb?
Art thou, in light and power,
One of the world's bright rays?
Do thy companions bless thee;
And are thy works thy praise?
I took no note of time;
Art thou a wife,—a mother?
While babes around thee climb?
Art thou, in light and power,
One of the world's bright rays?
Do thy companions bless thee;
And are thy works thy praise?
Ah, yes, the years advancing
Have brought thee joy and grief,
As thou to many a weak one
Hast ministered relief.
A blessing to the living,
A watcher o'er the dead,
Heaven weaves its crown of honor,
A halo round thy head.
Have brought thee joy and grief,
As thou to many a weak one
Hast ministered relief.
A blessing to the living,
A watcher o'er the dead,
Heaven weaves its crown of honor,
A halo round thy head.
20
And if thy darling left thee
To find his home above,
Heaven has its many mansions,
Heaven is the land of love;
Trial may prove a blessing
O heart, be still and brave,
Wait for the great revealing,—
God takes but what He gave.
To find his home above,
Heaven has its many mansions,
Heaven is the land of love;
Trial may prove a blessing
O heart, be still and brave,
Wait for the great revealing,—
God takes but what He gave.
As from the eastern glory
The morning sun ascends,
And in a fairer radiance
His western journey ends,—
So from the sweet beginnings,
A brighter noon shall grow,
And Heaven shall crown thy fifties
With its immortal glow.
The morning sun ascends,
And in a fairer radiance
His western journey ends,—
So from the sweet beginnings,
A brighter noon shall grow,
And Heaven shall crown thy fifties
With its immortal glow.
August 19, 1893.
MY WIFE, TO A FRIEND WHO WOULD GUESS HER AGE.
Oh, no, my friend, you blunder there,
Your guess is far from true;
She has grown dearer many a year,
But not yet “sixty-two.”
Your guess is far from true;
She has grown dearer many a year,
But not yet “sixty-two.”
Time's careless fingers o'er her head
Have dropped the crystal dew,—
The pearls flow down in silver gloss;
But she 's not “sixty-two.”
Have dropped the crystal dew,—
The pearls flow down in silver gloss;
But she 's not “sixty-two.”
21
You think she 'd seen so much of life,
Alike the old and new,
She must be quite advanced, perhaps,—
Well, far from “sixty-two.”
Alike the old and new,
She must be quite advanced, perhaps,—
Well, far from “sixty-two.”
You might have guessed more wisely, friend,
Had you a better clew;
You judge her by her wisdom?—Well,
She is not “sixty-two.”
Had you a better clew;
You judge her by her wisdom?—Well,
She is not “sixty-two.”
Her cheerful face, her bonny curls,
Her heart so warm and true,—
Tell tales of years of joy and love;
But she 's not “sixty-two.”
Her heart so warm and true,—
Tell tales of years of joy and love;
But she 's not “sixty-two.”
For years, home's sunny bowers more bright
With clustering offshoots grew,
And other bowers have reared their young;
But she 's not “sixty-two.”
With clustering offshoots grew,
And other bowers have reared their young;
But she 's not “sixty-two.”
Diminish it by four, I pray;
Her sky, still bright and blue,
Bends, loving, round her youthful head;
Yet she 's not “sixty-two.”
Her sky, still bright and blue,
Bends, loving, round her youthful head;
Yet she 's not “sixty-two.”
The silvery brown that crowns her brow
Suggests “Serenely wait,
And sometime, on some pleasant morn,
She'll wake, just fifty-eight.”
Suggests “Serenely wait,
And sometime, on some pleasant morn,
She'll wake, just fifty-eight.”
February, 1871.
22
OUR FIFTY-NINTH MARRIAGE ANNIVERSARY.
Not gifts of gold or costly gems,
But that which is all price above,
The festal marriage-day provides,—
Mercies to cheer and hearts to love.
But that which is all price above,
The festal marriage-day provides,—
Mercies to cheer and hearts to love.
How many sunny years have passed!
And each has left its radiant line;
The fifty long ago were told,
And now, behold, 't is fifty-nine.
And each has left its radiant line;
The fifty long ago were told,
And now, behold, 't is fifty-nine.
God of the loving, God of love,
Whose favor blessed the earlier days,
Shine on the years that yet remain,
While silver hairs proclaim thy praise.
Whose favor blessed the earlier days,
Shine on the years that yet remain,
While silver hairs proclaim thy praise.
September 16, 1893.
SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF OUR WEDDING.
TO MY WIFE, SEPTEMBER 16, 1834–1894.
Sixty benignant years,
With all their joys and tears,
Have rolled by,
Since we, made one for life,
Were wedded, man and wife,
You and I.
With all their joys and tears,
Have rolled by,
Since we, made one for life,
Were wedded, man and wife,
You and I.
23
The blest days we have seen,
The lands where we have been,
You and I,
Will linger on the brain,
Like some sweet song's refrain,
Till we die.
The lands where we have been,
You and I,
Will linger on the brain,
Like some sweet song's refrain,
Till we die.
The friends our hearts have loved,
Whose love our hearts have proved,
Yours and mine,—
Some are our solace yet;
Some, like bright suns, now set,
Still they shine.
Whose love our hearts have proved,
Yours and mine,—
Some are our solace yet;
Some, like bright suns, now set,
Still they shine.
The years and ages pass,
Like shadows o'er the grass,—
Love endures;
Plants of immortal root
Cluster immortal fruit,
Ours-and-yours.
Like shadows o'er the grass,—
Love endures;
Plants of immortal root
Cluster immortal fruit,
Ours-and-yours.
TO MARY REED (FRANK'S WIFE), AT FIFTY.
FEBRUARY 9, 1843–1893.
So swiftly the years on their axles have rolled,
The scenes they have brought us seem only a dream,—
Like shooting stars, crossing the ocean of blue,
Or bubbles of air floating down on the stream.
The scenes they have brought us seem only a dream,—
Like shooting stars, crossing the ocean of blue,
Or bubbles of air floating down on the stream.
24
When roused from our dreaming, we find 't is all real,
The months, in their flight, have rolled up into years,
With shadows and brightness, with sorrows and joys,
The glow of their hopes, and their faith, and their tears.
The months, in their flight, have rolled up into years,
With shadows and brightness, with sorrows and joys,
The glow of their hopes, and their faith, and their tears.
Our birthdays, like milestones, are stationed to tell
How rapid the pace, and how far off the start;
We note them, we count them; but what are the years,
If only young love lingers warm in the heart?
How rapid the pace, and how far off the start;
We note them, we count them; but what are the years,
If only young love lingers warm in the heart?
Methinks Father Time, in his hurry, forgot,
And marked on his tally more years than have sped;
No blush of the red rose has paled from your cheek,
No petal of white fluttered down on your head.
And marked on his tally more years than have sped;
No blush of the red rose has paled from your cheek,
No petal of white fluttered down on your head.
By sickness and weakness, bereavement and pain,
Like flowers by the tempest your heart has been bowed;
But Love has provided more gladness than gloom,
More mercy than judgment, more sunshine than cloud.
Like flowers by the tempest your heart has been bowed;
But Love has provided more gladness than gloom,
More mercy than judgment, more sunshine than cloud.
What mercy and goodness have gleamed through your years!
How lovely, how swiftly the fifty have passed!
With glow of the sunset, and glory, and peace,
May fifty be added,—the crown of the last.
How lovely, how swiftly the fifty have passed!
With glow of the sunset, and glory, and peace,
May fifty be added,—the crown of the last.
25
TO MY BELOVED WIFE, AT SEVENTY.
Threescore and ten! the blushing spring
Has changed to autumn's brown;
The glossy head, for auburn curls,
Now wears a silver crown.
Has changed to autumn's brown;
The glossy head, for auburn curls,
Now wears a silver crown.
Fair day of life, so rich in good!
So seldom tempest-tossed!
How joy and love have filled the space
Between the bloom and frost!
So seldom tempest-tossed!
How joy and love have filled the space
Between the bloom and frost!
And thou half round the globe hast trod;
Hast traced, from distant seas,
The northern crown and southern cross,
And felt the tropic breeze.
Hast traced, from distant seas,
The northern crown and southern cross,
And felt the tropic breeze.
Thy children, held in honor, stand,
Known in the world's highways;
Thy husband, too,—and he, with theirs,
This loving tribute pays.
Known in the world's highways;
Thy husband, too,—and he, with theirs,
This loving tribute pays.
And all thy steps, divinely planned,
God's loving care has led;
And countless blessings has His hand,
Like spring-flowers, round thee shed.
God's loving care has led;
And countless blessings has His hand,
Like spring-flowers, round thee shed.
Threescore and ten! the limit reached
That human years may fill,—
God's covenant love, God's promised grace
Will shield and guide thee still.
That human years may fill,—
God's covenant love, God's promised grace
Will shield and guide thee still.
26
And life's long path, through sun and storm,—
Blest boon to mortals given,—
Or smooth, or rough, at last shall prove
One long, sweet path to heaven.
Blest boon to mortals given,—
Or smooth, or rough, at last shall prove
One long, sweet path to heaven.
Davenport, Iowa.
TO MY WIFE ON HER SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY.
RETROSPECTIVE PICTURES.
A fairy girl, with wavy curls;
Her trade in books and pen,
Like one who scatters lovely pearls;
Her sunny years,—just ten.
Her trade in books and pen,
Like one who scatters lovely pearls;
Her sunny years,—just ten.
Another figure, stately grown,—
What changes time has wrought!
How swift the sobering years have flown,
With noblest purpose fraught!
What changes time has wrought!
How swift the sobering years have flown,
With noblest purpose fraught!
Twice ten,—the scene is changed; I hear
His, “Wilt thou?” her “I will;”
She pledged her faith without a fear,
Risking, or good,—or ill.
His, “Wilt thou?” her “I will;”
She pledged her faith without a fear,
Risking, or good,—or ill.
Again, thrice ten,—and clinging buds
In sweet affection twine,
Successive, with their tendrils fair
Around the clustering vine.
In sweet affection twine,
Successive, with their tendrils fair
Around the clustering vine.
27
Four tens,—the happy summit reached,
Life's harder conflicts done,
Her sunny curls with silver streaked,
Life's golden prizes won.
Life's harder conflicts done,
Her sunny curls with silver streaked,
Life's golden prizes won.
Revered and loved, with honor crowned,
Now with her five times ten,
In peace and hope she walks and lives,
Lives, in her babes, again.
Now with her five times ten,
In peace and hope she walks and lives,
Lives, in her babes, again.
Sweet eminence, too fair to leave,
And so she lingers still;
Her cup of good, at six times ten,
What constant blessings fill!
And so she lingers still;
Her cup of good, at six times ten,
What constant blessings fill!
The world is wide; like Israel's hosts,
Sheltered and led of God,
At seven times ten her favored steps
Remotest empires trod.
Sheltered and led of God,
At seven times ten her favored steps
Remotest empires trod.
Five more are added,—years of joy;
Walk on, with trusting feet,
Till years full twenty-five shall make
Thy century complete.
Walk on, with trusting feet,
Till years full twenty-five shall make
Thy century complete.
February 8, 1888.
28
TO MY WIFE ON HER EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY.
[_]
This poem divides fourscore years of life into four parts, of one score each. It proceeds on the idea that the first score of a life of eighty years is mainly a period of labor and promise, like spring; the second, of vigorous toil, activity, and growth, like summer; the third, harvest and fruit from the preceding period, like autumn; the fourth, rest and beauty, like winter, which is marked by the rest and crystalline beauty incident to that season.
First Score.—Spring.
A score of years!—as spring maturesIts tender bud, and leaf, and bloom,
While Time's swift shuttle flies and weaves
The loveliest tints in nature's loom,
Day after day the picture grows
Beneath the weaver's skilful hand,
Till the sweet beauty stands complete,
Which love conceived and wisdom planned,—
So light and shade, and night and day,
Blessed the fair flower of human mould,
While frame and form, and heart and mind,
Hasted like petals to unfold;
What tint and tone of grace they bore,
What richest fruits! 't was just a score.
Second Score.—Summer.
A second score!—as summer callsThe fervent heart and toiling hand
To wield the scythe, to bind the sheaf,
To answer labor's high demand,
29
All the long day, till evening lowers,
Life bids to work, its stern behest
Demands the workman's grandest powers,—
So in the summer tide of hope
With ceaseless pains the matron wrought,
By noble deeds and nobler aims
Enriching life, inspiring thought.
What summer growth those labors bore!
What ripening fruits!—life's second score.
Third Score.—Autumn.
Threescore!—how richly autumn bendsBeneath her weight of fruit and flowers!
Beauty and plenty glow and meet,
Like garlands twined around her bowers;
The heat and drought, the dew and rain,
And wearing toil which months record.
God notes them all,—no work is lost,
And each at last brings large reward.
So harvests from thy heart and hand
Are heaped along the world's highways;
Children and children's children blend
Their voices in thy worthy praise.
Thy works, the third, the fruitful score,
Are like the autumn's garnered store.
Fourth Score.—Winter.
Fourscore!—how sweet, how fair the scene,When winter spreads, o'er all the earth,
Her bridal robe of purest white,
Her crystal gems, of heavenly birth!
Peace reigns where all was life and care;
Nature keeps jubilee of rest;
30
This is the loveliest, the best.
So when the vessel nears its port,
Its anchor in smooth water cast,
With its rich cargo safe at home,
It rides the gentle wave at last;
Yet sail along this peaceful shore,
I pray, dear wife, another score.
TO MY WIFE, AT EIGHTY-ONE.
I've known and loved her many a year
Since first I called her mine.
“How many years?” I'll tell you, friend,—
Why, fifty years and nine;
So many years we talked of “ours,”
And never “mine” and “thine.”
Since first I called her mine.
“How many years?” I'll tell you, friend,—
Why, fifty years and nine;
So many years we talked of “ours,”
And never “mine” and “thine.”
She must be quite advanced, I think,—
A queen with silver hair.
Oh, never mind the months and days;
The things that people wear
Are all outside; there 's something else,
That 's ever young and fair.
A queen with silver hair.
Oh, never mind the months and days;
The things that people wear
Are all outside; there 's something else,
That 's ever young and fair.
'T is love that makes the joy of life,—
Love, the best gift of heaven;
A clasp that holds when meaner ties
Grow feeble, or are riven;
It keeps its circle perfect, like
The Hebrew number “seven.”
Love, the best gift of heaven;
A clasp that holds when meaner ties
Grow feeble, or are riven;
It keeps its circle perfect, like
The Hebrew number “seven.”
31
And so the years have trundled on,
Alike in calm and storm;
Our birdies, in bright plumage dressed,
Of comely growth and form,
Have fled the nest,—the dear old nest,—
And still the nest is warm.
Alike in calm and storm;
Our birdies, in bright plumage dressed,
Of comely growth and form,
Have fled the nest,—the dear old nest,—
And still the nest is warm.
The world is better for the songs
Thy fairy lips have sung;
And sweeter for the fragrant flowers
Around thy pathway flung,—
God's gift, as true in silvery age
As when they called thee “young.”
Thy fairy lips have sung;
And sweeter for the fragrant flowers
Around thy pathway flung,—
God's gift, as true in silvery age
As when they called thee “young.”
Queen of my heart, queen of my house,
Its gladness and its sun,
Dear for the thousand things thou art,
For thousands thou hast done,
Blest are the years thy life has spanned,
Thy fourscore years and one.
Its gladness and its sun,
Dear for the thousand things thou art,
For thousands thou hast done,
Blest are the years thy life has spanned,
Thy fourscore years and one.
February 8, 1894.
32
TO MY WIFE ON HER EIGHTY-SECOND BIRTHDAY.
'T is well to celebrate the days
That mark the flight of years,
And, thoughtful, take account of stock,—
The joys, the hopes, the fears,
That crowd the life, or broad or brief,
Along the curious maze,
A precious tribute, each, in turn,
On Memory's altar lays.
That mark the flight of years,
And, thoughtful, take account of stock,—
The joys, the hopes, the fears,
That crowd the life, or broad or brief,
Along the curious maze,
A precious tribute, each, in turn,
On Memory's altar lays.
Thou canst not e'er forget the eve,
In thy young brilliant life,
When, without change of soul or name,
Thou wast a wedded wife.
Forget? Oh, no; nor, nobler still,
The blessings of that other,
When infant beauty on thee smiled,
Saluting thee as mother.
In thy young brilliant life,
When, without change of soul or name,
Thou wast a wedded wife.
Forget? Oh, no; nor, nobler still,
The blessings of that other,
When infant beauty on thee smiled,
Saluting thee as mother.
Refreshing as, in summer's heat,
Comes to the rose the dew,
And gladdening as the perfumed breeze.
Thy heart so warm and true;
Knitting fresh links of love and bliss,
An ever-lengthening chain,
Thine is the honored sum, to-day,
Of fourscore years and twain.
Comes to the rose the dew,
And gladdening as the perfumed breeze.
Thy heart so warm and true;
Knitting fresh links of love and bliss,
An ever-lengthening chain,
Thine is the honored sum, to-day,
Of fourscore years and twain.
February 8, 1895.
33
III. TENDER PARTINGS.
ELIZABETH, THE INFANT ANGEL.
Ascended, dearly loved, in life's young bud;
Too fair, too sweet, 'mid earth's rude blasts to stay,
Safe in the bosom of thy Father, God,
Bright, beauteous infant, from thy cumbering clay
So soon escaped, its happy heavenward way
Thy soul hath taken. Like the light of morn,
Thou didst shed on us one fair passing ray,
Then to thy glorious Source, thou, babe, wast borne.
Too fair, too sweet, 'mid earth's rude blasts to stay,
Safe in the bosom of thy Father, God,
Bright, beauteous infant, from thy cumbering clay
So soon escaped, its happy heavenward way
Thy soul hath taken. Like the light of morn,
Thou didst shed on us one fair passing ray,
Then to thy glorious Source, thou, babe, wast borne.
Dear infant angel, safe in joy and God!
Babe of fair promise, child of fondest prayer!
Hail, rescued spirit! painful is the rod;
But never will we mourn that thou art there.
Bright gem, we would not tear thee from thy crown,
Nor bid thy harp, sweet seraph, silent lie;
Stay in thy mansion, infant, still our own,
Never to grieve again, or fear, or die.
Babe of fair promise, child of fondest prayer!
Hail, rescued spirit! painful is the rod;
But never will we mourn that thou art there.
Bright gem, we would not tear thee from thy crown,
Nor bid thy harp, sweet seraph, silent lie;
Stay in thy mansion, infant, still our own,
Never to grieve again, or fear, or die.
Short was thy pilgrim path, a sunny hour;
Life was to thee too sweet a boon to last.
What joy it gave thee, gentle morning flower!
How soon the glorious pageant o'er thee passed!
Passed! Yes, from earth,—but fairer life is thine;
The vale of death thy little foot hath trod;
And now in life immortal thou dost shine,
Dear infant, in the paradise of God.
Life was to thee too sweet a boon to last.
What joy it gave thee, gentle morning flower!
How soon the glorious pageant o'er thee passed!
Passed! Yes, from earth,—but fairer life is thine;
The vale of death thy little foot hath trod;
And now in life immortal thou dost shine,
Dear infant, in the paradise of God.
March 24, 1842.
34
THE JEWEL AND ITS SETTING.
I had a jewel passing rich,
Set in its lovely frame;
How on the prize my heart was fixed
From the bright day it came!
Set in its lovely frame;
How on the prize my heart was fixed
From the bright day it came!
The setting was of choicest skill,
As fair as fair could be;
And art divine had done its best
To make it sweet to me.
The purple haze of distant hills,
The evening's golden light,
The bending rainbow's painted arch,
Were, to my eye, less bright.
As fair as fair could be;
And art divine had done its best
To make it sweet to me.
The purple haze of distant hills,
The evening's golden light,
The bending rainbow's painted arch,
Were, to my eye, less bright.
The gleaming of the silver sheen
Across the summer sea;
The grace that winds the clinging vine
Around the greenwood tree;
The weeping elm, the stately pine;
The breath of fragrant flowers;
The broad, blue sky, the landscape green,
The leafy, sheltering bowers;
The dark line of the circling hills
Around the horizon's verge;
The blue rim of the far-off sea,
Where billows toss and surge,—
All have their glory; all, their worth;
On each the dazzled eye
Loves to look lingeringly, and gaze
Raptured and dreamily;
From each the mantle of such grace
Seems round its charms to fall,—
The setting of my beauteous gem
To me surpassed them all.
Across the summer sea;
The grace that winds the clinging vine
Around the greenwood tree;
The weeping elm, the stately pine;
The breath of fragrant flowers;
The broad, blue sky, the landscape green,
The leafy, sheltering bowers;
The dark line of the circling hills
Around the horizon's verge;
The blue rim of the far-off sea,
Where billows toss and surge,—
All have their glory; all, their worth;
On each the dazzled eye
Loves to look lingeringly, and gaze
Raptured and dreamily;
35
Seems round its charms to fall,—
The setting of my beauteous gem
To me surpassed them all.
So fair the setting; fairer yet
The priceless, sparkling gem,
Fit honor for a princely hand,
Or regal diadem.
The jewel made the setting bright,
Within whose clasp it shone;
'T was for its sake the frame was carved;
The chief charm was its own.
The priceless, sparkling gem,
Fit honor for a princely hand,
Or regal diadem.
The jewel made the setting bright,
Within whose clasp it shone;
'T was for its sake the frame was carved;
The chief charm was its own.
And happy seasons onward passed,
And mornings went and came;
And still the precious jewel there
Flashed in its precious frame.
At last, some sad, sad chance befell,
Which dashed it to the ground:
The precious setting, ruined, fell;
The gem was safe and sound.
And mornings went and came;
And still the precious jewel there
Flashed in its precious frame.
At last, some sad, sad chance befell,
Which dashed it to the ground:
The precious setting, ruined, fell;
The gem was safe and sound.
My babe was like the jewel rare;
The frame, his cherished form;
I pressed it to my throbbing heart,
Dreading some wasting storm.
The storm has spoiled the setting fair,
But for a season given;
The gem I prized, unharmed, still shines
Forever safe in heaven.
The frame, his cherished form;
I pressed it to my throbbing heart,
Dreading some wasting storm.
The storm has spoiled the setting fair,
But for a season given;
The gem I prized, unharmed, still shines
Forever safe in heaven.
Chicago, 1885.
36
IN MEMORY OF MARY WHITE SMITH.
RANGOON, BURMAH, FEBRUARY 5, 1888.
I see the blessed angels there;
They beckon me away
From night and pain, from sin and death,
To gladness, light, and day.
They beckon me away
From night and pain, from sin and death,
To gladness, light, and day.
I see them on the shining stairs;
What pure white robes they wear
'T will be a heaven of untold bliss
To dwell forever there.
What pure white robes they wear
'T will be a heaven of untold bliss
To dwell forever there.
I see, I see their shining wings!
I hear, I hear them raise,
In sweetest tone, in words unknown,
Their songs of joy and praise!
I hear, I hear them raise,
In sweetest tone, in words unknown,
Their songs of joy and praise!
Come, little pilgrim, come away,
To you such grace is given;
Come, for of children such as thou
The kingdom is of heaven!
To you such grace is given;
Come, for of children such as thou
The kingdom is of heaven!
She listened; up the shining stairs
With happy feet she trod,
And found, so young, that blessed home,
The paradise of God.
With happy feet she trod,
And found, so young, that blessed home,
The paradise of God.
February 6, 1878.
37
TWO GARDENS,
THE HEAVENLY AND THE EARTHLY.
Two gardens, flourishing and bright,
Kept by one gardener's care,
Smiled in the sweet and sunny light,
And breathed with perfumed air.
Kept by one gardener's care,
Smiled in the sweet and sunny light,
And breathed with perfumed air.
One stood, all bathed in heavenly joy,
As if in early spring
An angel, clad in rainbow dyes,
Shook beauty from his wing.
As if in early spring
An angel, clad in rainbow dyes,
Shook beauty from his wing.
No frost the unfolding petals knew,
No blight on bud or bloom;
No lowering cloud, no chilling dew,
No emblem of the tomb.
No blight on bud or bloom;
No lowering cloud, no chilling dew,
No emblem of the tomb.
And one, o'er every fragrant bed
A chastened sadness lay,
As when the evening shadows close
Around a summer's day.
A chastened sadness lay,
As when the evening shadows close
Around a summer's day.
Lily and rose and violet smiled,
Fair as a glorious gem;
But rose and lily, doomed to fade,
Sat on a fragile stem.
Fair as a glorious gem;
But rose and lily, doomed to fade,
Sat on a fragile stem.
In one, a plant of beauty blessed
A sweet sequestered bower,
Breathed fragrance where its bloom was nursed,
And grew, a matchless flower.
A sweet sequestered bower,
Breathed fragrance where its bloom was nursed,
And grew, a matchless flower.
38
The gardener saw its peerless charms,
And chose a flower so rare
To grace his other garden-bed
And so removed it there.
And chose a flower so rare
To grace his other garden-bed
And so removed it there.
And now where angels walk in white,
A land of cloudless skies,
The gathered lily fitly blooms,—
A flower of Paradise.
A land of cloudless skies,
The gathered lily fitly blooms,—
A flower of Paradise.
39
IV. REUNIONS.
SALLIE'S HOME.
This is my home,—my fair, bright home,
The home of peace, and hope and love;
The green fields wide expand below,
And heaven's blue arch bends sweet above.
The home of peace, and hope and love;
The green fields wide expand below,
And heaven's blue arch bends sweet above.
Light sifts among the quivering leaves,
Like angels floating from the sky;
And twittering birds around the eaves
Whisper of unseen homes on high.
Like angels floating from the sky;
And twittering birds around the eaves
Whisper of unseen homes on high.
Mine are the windows where the sun
Pours his fair light in golden streams,
And morn and eve and glowing noon
Are gladdened by his healing beams.
Pours his fair light in golden streams,
And morn and eve and glowing noon
Are gladdened by his healing beams.
Mine are the rooms, for rest and love,
For patience, work, and worldly care;
For books, and friends, and widening thought,
For tranquil joy, and holy prayer.
For patience, work, and worldly care;
For books, and friends, and widening thought,
For tranquil joy, and holy prayer.
Mine is the landscape, rich and rare,—
Beyond the wealth of Sheba's queen;
The pleasant homes, the clustering vines,
The long cathedral aisles of green.
Beyond the wealth of Sheba's queen;
The pleasant homes, the clustering vines,
The long cathedral aisles of green.
Mine, through His love whose reverend head
Is pillowed on the Saviour's breast;
Mine, through His grace whose promise bids
The widowed heart on Him to rest.
Is pillowed on the Saviour's breast;
Mine, through His grace whose promise bids
The widowed heart on Him to rest.
40
Mine,—yet not mine; for all is God's,
Myself and all I call my own.
I bow, submissive to His will;
I kneel, a supplicant, at His throne.
Myself and all I call my own.
I bow, submissive to His will;
I kneel, a supplicant, at His throne.
Mine,—yet not mine; and He is mine,
On Him I lean, on Him I call,
Rejoiced, were all my comforts fled,
To find in Him my all in all.
On Him I lean, on Him I call,
Rejoiced, were all my comforts fled,
To find in Him my all in all.
Bridgeport, Conn., May 24, 1891.
AT THE OLD HEARTHSTONE AGAIN.
SEPTEMBER 16, 1876.
Once, on a bright and happy night,
At the full moon in September,
A fair young girl, in brilliant curls,—
Long ago, but we remember,—
She pledged her loving heart and hand,
In the joy of opening life,
Thenceforth to be, or weal or woe,
A fond and faithful wife.
At the full moon in September,
A fair young girl, in brilliant curls,—
Long ago, but we remember,—
She pledged her loving heart and hand,
In the joy of opening life,
Thenceforth to be, or weal or woe,
A fond and faithful wife.
And so two souls, like mingling drops,
Began their course together,
Making one life,—like rainbow hues
Blended in showery weather.
A day, a happy moon, a year,
The tide of time rolled on;
Days, weeks and moons,—oh, who can tell
Where the glad year has gone?
Began their course together,
Making one life,—like rainbow hues
Blended in showery weather.
A day, a happy moon, a year,
The tide of time rolled on;
Days, weeks and moons,—oh, who can tell
Where the glad year has gone?
41
One day within the happy nest
Another life was breathing:
Three souls—not two—in union new,
Young buds of joy were wreathing;
Two Marys made the mansion bright,—
Two Marys, great and small;
And one high shadowing arm of love
Embraced and gladdened all.
Another life was breathing:
Three souls—not two—in union new,
Young buds of joy were wreathing;
Two Marys made the mansion bright,—
Two Marys, great and small;
And one high shadowing arm of love
Embraced and gladdened all.
Yet more, as sped the rolling years,
Like dewdrops of the morning,
The unwarlike infantry advanced,—
Married life's best adorning;
And joy and promise, hope and love,
Illumed with shining ray,
As sunbeams glittering on the sea,
Life's varied, cheerful day.
Like dewdrops of the morning,
The unwarlike infantry advanced,—
Married life's best adorning;
And joy and promise, hope and love,
Illumed with shining ray,
As sunbeams glittering on the sea,
Life's varied, cheerful day.
At last, when the young curling locks
White rose-leaves came to sprinkle,
And near the corner of the eyes
Appeared just one small wrinkle,
Six youths and maidens stood within
Those loving arms, caressing,
These prizing what those joyed to give,
The sire's and mother's blessing.
White rose-leaves came to sprinkle,
And near the corner of the eyes
Appeared just one small wrinkle,
Six youths and maidens stood within
Those loving arms, caressing,
These prizing what those joyed to give,
The sire's and mother's blessing.
And who are these? How swift old Time
Works the most wondrous changes!
How the arithmetic of youth
That slippery elf deranges!
The six are twelve; the twelve,—ah me!—
Eleven more, sweet mother.
To these add HIM and HER; and, please,
The NINETY makes one other.
Works the most wondrous changes!
How the arithmetic of youth
That slippery elf deranges!
The six are twelve; the twelve,—ah me!—
Eleven more, sweet mother.
To these add HIM and HER; and, please,
The NINETY makes one other.
42
'T was only two, in earliest years;
Then Mary made it three;
One wore, long since, the shining robes
Of immortality.
My head is puzzled o'er the count;
My brain is in a fix!
'T was two, 't was three, 't was four—and now
They say it 's twenty-six.
Then Mary made it three;
One wore, long since, the shining robes
Of immortality.
My head is puzzled o'er the count;
My brain is in a fix!
'T was two, 't was three, 't was four—and now
They say it 's twenty-six.
One Mary once,—now Mary 's five;
One Anna,—now two more;
One S. F. S.,—now three; two Sa.'s,
And babies, half a score.
Of lawyers, two; of preachers, four;
Of presidents, a pair.
What wonders, in the land of dreams!
On earth, what wonders rare!
One Anna,—now two more;
One S. F. S.,—now three; two Sa.'s,
And babies, half a score.
Of lawyers, two; of preachers, four;
Of presidents, a pair.
What wonders, in the land of dreams!
On earth, what wonders rare!
So here, to-day, in grateful love,
One precious band, we mingle;
Each for the others bound to live,
No heart, no interest, single.
Some keep and bless the early home;
Some watch where day beams wake;
And some where gorgeous evening dies,—
All for each other's sake.
One precious band, we mingle;
Each for the others bound to live,
No heart, no interest, single.
Some keep and bless the early home;
Some watch where day beams wake;
And some where gorgeous evening dies,—
All for each other's sake.
God keep the little circle whole
For years, the jewels brightening:
Each joy, through Him, made richer joy,
Each grief, He, for all, lightening;
Till, in some happy clime rejoined,—
Rejoined, no more to sever,
We meet, and weep, and sing, and praise,
And love,—love on, forever.
For years, the jewels brightening:
Each joy, through Him, made richer joy,
Each grief, He, for all, lightening;
Till, in some happy clime rejoined,—
Rejoined, no more to sever,
We meet, and weep, and sing, and praise,
And love,—love on, forever.
| Poems of home and country | |