 | The snow-drop |  |
Small service is true service while it lasts;
Of friends, however humble, scorn not one;
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.
Wordsworth.
Of friends, however humble, scorn not one;
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.
Wordsworth.
TO LITTLE ELLEN AND MAY THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE TENDERLY DEDICATED, BY THEIR MOTHER.
v
PREFACE.
When through the snowy cover
Of winter veiling all the ground,
By nature's earnest lover
The Snow-drop fair is found,
Of winter veiling all the ground,
By nature's earnest lover
The Snow-drop fair is found,
He takes it to his bosom,
Nor loves his floweret less, I ween,
Because the little blossom
In humble guise is seen.
Nor loves his floweret less, I ween,
Because the little blossom
In humble guise is seen.
A simple flower I bring you;
My fragile offering kindly take!
A simple song I sing you,
Oh! love it for my sake!
My fragile offering kindly take!
A simple song I sing you,
Oh! love it for my sake!
vi
I've nursed my Snow-drop sadly,
With smiles and tears of fear and hope,
And mournfully and gladly
I see its light leaves ope.
With smiles and tears of fear and hope,
And mournfully and gladly
I see its light leaves ope.
I mourn for all the brightness,
The Innocence, the guileless truth,
The faith, the joy, the lightness,
That blessed my early youth!
The Innocence, the guileless truth,
The faith, the joy, the lightness,
That blessed my early youth!
Yet I rejoice in feeling,
That still e'en now, whene'er beguiled
By childhood's sweet revealing,
I am again a child!
That still e'en now, whene'er beguiled
By childhood's sweet revealing,
I am again a child!
1
THE HOURS OF YORE.
I cannot choose but sing the strain,
That many a bard has sung before,
That thousands yet will wake again,—
The hours of yore! the hours of yore!
That many a bard has sung before,
That thousands yet will wake again,—
The hours of yore! the hours of yore!
The hours of yore! sweet childhood's hours,
When all the livelong day I played
With sunbeams, butterflies, and flowers,
And wavelets in the woodland glade.
When all the livelong day I played
With sunbeams, butterflies, and flowers,
And wavelets in the woodland glade.
2
I cared not then for plumes and pearls—
The forest leaves were gems to me,
I wreathed them round my careless curls,
And found a crown in every tree!
The forest leaves were gems to me,
I wreathed them round my careless curls,
And found a crown in every tree!
The murmuring fount my music made,
I danced on Nature's broidered floor,
A queen was I in the woodland glade,
A crowned queen, in hours of yore!
I danced on Nature's broidered floor,
A queen was I in the woodland glade,
A crowned queen, in hours of yore!
I deemed the flowers were all alive,
I fancied birds could talk like me,
And many an hour I'd listening strive
To think what could their meaning be!
I fancied birds could talk like me,
And many an hour I'd listening strive
To think what could their meaning be!
I did not sigh for wealth or pleasure;
If through the leaves a sunbeam stole,
I called the ray my golden treasure,
And blessed its beauty in my soul!
If through the leaves a sunbeam stole,
I called the ray my golden treasure,
And blessed its beauty in my soul!
3
Oh, monarch! mid your courtier train,
Oh, sage! half-crazed with mystic lore,
Sing, sing with me the sad refrain,
“The hours of yore! the hours of yore!”
Oh, sage! half-crazed with mystic lore,
Sing, sing with me the sad refrain,
“The hours of yore! the hours of yore!”
4
TO A LITTLE GIRL WHO SAID “I WILL DO IT TOMORROW.”
Have you any thing to do?
Go directly and begin it;
Stay not even to read this through;
Go and do it,—now,—this minute!
Go directly and begin it;
Stay not even to read this through;
Go and do it,—now,—this minute!
Just suppose, yon budding Rose,
Your procrastination showing,
Like you,—loving long repose,—
Lazily should put off blowing!—
Your procrastination showing,
Like you,—loving long repose,—
Lazily should put off blowing!—
Put it off from day to day,
Just as you do,—still delaying,
Till the summer fades away,
And the northern blast is playing!
Just as you do,—still delaying,
Till the summer fades away,
And the northern blast is playing!
5
Chilled to torpor, 'neath the sky,
Where the wintry tempests roar,—
Can't you hear the poor thing sigh,—
“Oh! that I had bloomed before!”
Where the wintry tempests roar,—
Can't you hear the poor thing sigh,—
“Oh! that I had bloomed before!”
Now's the time! your Youth is spring,
And your Soul, an opening flower:
Fan it with the zephyr's wing,
Nurse it in the sun and shower!
And your Soul, an opening flower:
Fan it with the zephyr's wing,
Nurse it in the sun and shower!
Else in life's cold winter-hour,
When the tears of age are flowing,
You will hear your spirit-flower
Sigh because it put off growing!
When the tears of age are flowing,
You will hear your spirit-flower
Sigh because it put off growing!
31
THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE.
“My child! thou droopest like a flower,
That trembles 'neath the summer shower,
And day by day, and hour by hour,
More faint thy meek replying
To tender questionings of mine;
A dreamy sorrow, half divine,
Fills those dark eyes, that strangely shine;
My child, my child! thou 'rt dying!”
That trembles 'neath the summer shower,
And day by day, and hour by hour,
More faint thy meek replying
To tender questionings of mine;
A dreamy sorrow, half divine,
Fills those dark eyes, that strangely shine;
My child, my child! thou 'rt dying!”
“Sweet mother—no! but by my side,
Where'er I go,” the child replied,
“Through all this glorious summer-tide,
Is one, you cannot see—
A little child with sunny wings,
And eyes like Heaven;—of holy things,
With earnest voice, it talks and sings—
And softly plays with me!
Where'er I go,” the child replied,
“Through all this glorious summer-tide,
Is one, you cannot see—
32
And eyes like Heaven;—of holy things,
With earnest voice, it talks and sings—
And softly plays with me!
‘Let us go home!’ it warbles low;
And when I say, ‘I dare not so!
My home is here,’ it whispers—‘No!
Fair child! thy home is mine!’
And then, of some far lovelier land
It fondly tells, where many a band
Of blissful children, hand in hand,
With sportive fondness twine.
And when I say, ‘I dare not so!
My home is here,’ it whispers—‘No!
Fair child! thy home is mine!’
And then, of some far lovelier land
It fondly tells, where many a band
Of blissful children, hand in hand,
With sportive fondness twine.
It says, they know not how to sigh,
For nothing there can droop and die;
But bloom immortal glads the eye,
And music wondrous sweet
Doth ebb and flow, without alloy,
From lyres of light, while Love and Joy
Time to the tune, their blest employ,
With weariless winged feet!
For nothing there can droop and die;
But bloom immortal glads the eye,
And music wondrous sweet
33
From lyres of light, while Love and Joy
Time to the tune, their blest employ,
With weariless winged feet!
A purer prayer it teaches me,
Than that I idly learned of thee;
It softens all my thoughtless glee,
It makes me true and kind.
My angel-playmate! most I fear,
'T will wave its wings and leave me here!
‘Thou'lt miss me in that holier sphere!
Oh! leave me not behind!’
Than that I idly learned of thee;
It softens all my thoughtless glee,
It makes me true and kind.
My angel-playmate! most I fear,
'T will wave its wings and leave me here!
‘Thou'lt miss me in that holier sphere!
Oh! leave me not behind!’
It says this is not life, but death,
A daily waste of mortal breath,
And still its sweet voice summoneth
Me to that other land;
But even while it whispers so,
The flowers around more brightly glow,
And yet—and yet, I pine to go,
And join that joyous band!
A daily waste of mortal breath,
And still its sweet voice summoneth
Me to that other land;
34
The flowers around more brightly glow,
And yet—and yet, I pine to go,
And join that joyous band!
My mother! Ill come often back;
I'll not forget the homeward track,
But oft when Pain and Sorrow rack
Thy frame, I'll hover o'er thee;
I'll sing thee every soothing lay,
I learn in Heaven;—I'll lead the way
For thee to God;—my wings shall play
In dreams of light before thee!
I'll not forget the homeward track,
But oft when Pain and Sorrow rack
Thy frame, I'll hover o'er thee;
I'll sing thee every soothing lay,
I learn in Heaven;—I'll lead the way
For thee to God;—my wings shall play
In dreams of light before thee!
Oh! mother! even now I hear
Melodious murmurs in my ear;
The child—the angel-child is near!
I see its light wings glow!
I see its pure and pleading smile!
It moves beside me all the while,
Its eyes my yearning soul beguile,
Sweet mother! let me go!
Melodious murmurs in my ear;
The child—the angel-child is near!
I see its light wings glow!
35
It moves beside me all the while,
Its eyes my yearning soul beguile,
Sweet mother! let me go!
Hark to their plaintive spirit-strain!
‘Let us go home!’ again—again
It rises soft—that sad refrain!
My play-mate! stay for me!
It clasps my hand! It warbles low—
‘Let us go home!’ I go—I go!
My pinions play—with heavenly glow—
My mother—I am free!”
‘Let us go home!’ again—again
It rises soft—that sad refrain!
My play-mate! stay for me!
It clasps my hand! It warbles low—
‘Let us go home!’ I go—I go!
My pinions play—with heavenly glow—
My mother—I am free!”
The fair child lay upon her breast,
As if in its accustomed rest,
A slumbering dove within its nest.
But well the mother knew
That never more that pure, blue eye
To her's would speak the soul's reply;
“She is not dead—she could not die!
My child in Heaven! adieu!”
As if in its accustomed rest,
A slumbering dove within its nest.
But well the mother knew
36
To her's would speak the soul's reply;
“She is not dead—she could not die!
My child in Heaven! adieu!”
37
TO A LITTLE GIRL, DISAPPOINTED IN A WALK.
Child! you grieve because
Clouds are in the air,
Rule the weather in your heart,
Make it summer there!
Clouds are in the air,
Rule the weather in your heart,
Make it summer there!
Tears of vain regret
Dim your downcast eyes,
Let the sunlight of the soul,
Laughing, through them rise!
Dim your downcast eyes,
Let the sunlight of the soul,
Laughing, through them rise!
Clouds of sullen grief
O'er your spirit go,
Let the smiles of Faith and Hope
Through the darkness glow!
O'er your spirit go,
Let the smiles of Faith and Hope
Through the darkness glow!
38
Then the bow of Heaven,
Beaming, bending there,
All your sorrowing soul shall span,
With its beauty rare!
Beaming, bending there,
All your sorrowing soul shall span,
With its beauty rare!
39
TO A CRICKET.
Cheerful, little, chirping cricket!
Thank you for your serenade!
Gaily, lightly, all the evening,
You, your fairy lute have played.
Thank you for your serenade!
Gaily, lightly, all the evening,
You, your fairy lute have played.
In some corner, dark and lonely,
All unseen, unfound you sing;
By your merry music only
Do we know you, happy thing!
All unseen, unfound you sing;
By your merry music only
Do we know you, happy thing!
So should I the lesson treasure;
Lone like you, without a name,
Sing my song for others' pleasure,
Caring not for praise or fame.
Lone like you, without a name,
Sing my song for others' pleasure,
Caring not for praise or fame.
40
LITTLE FANNY'S ERROR.
Fanny shuts her roguish eyes,
Then, because she cannot see,
Little simpleton! she cries,
“Ah! you can't see me!”
Then, because she cannot see,
Little simpleton! she cries,
“Ah! you can't see me!”
Fanny's like the sinner vain,
Who, with spirit shut and dim,
Thinks because he sees not Heaven,
Heaven cannot see him!
Who, with spirit shut and dim,
Thinks because he sees not Heaven,
Heaven cannot see him!
46
MARY'S TALK WITH THE STAR.
“Star! star! lovely star!”
Little Mary cried in glee,
“Come from your blue house afar!
Come and play with me!”
Little Mary cried in glee,
“Come from your blue house afar!
Come and play with me!”
“Child! child! darling child!”
Warbled soft the star above,
And, in Mary's eyes, it smiled,
With a look of love,—
Warbled soft the star above,
And, in Mary's eyes, it smiled,
With a look of love,—
“Child! child of hope and glee!”
Silver-soft the star replied,
“Come to Heaven and play with me!
On the rainbow ride!
Silver-soft the star replied,
“Come to Heaven and play with me!
On the rainbow ride!
47
I to you may never bend;
But your being's law, from Heaven
Is to still in light ascend,
Till it be forgiven.
But your being's law, from Heaven
Is to still in light ascend,
Till it be forgiven.
Little flower of Joy and Love!”
Silver-soft the starlight sighed,
“Mary! come and bloom above!
Here no tempests chide.
Silver-soft the starlight sighed,
“Mary! come and bloom above!
Here no tempests chide.
In a beaming, golden boat,
Plying still my pearly oar,
Through the great, calm Heaven I float,
Singing angel-lore.
Plying still my pearly oar,
Through the great, calm Heaven I float,
Singing angel-lore.
Are your spirit's pinions furled?
Wake and bid them flutter free!
Wander home from that cold world,
Come and play with me!”
Wake and bid them flutter free!
Wander home from that cold world,
Come and play with me!”
48
ELLEN AND THE ROSES.
The child was athirst, and stretched her hand
To a flower-filled, crystal vase close by,
With a pleading smile and an accent bland;—
“Nay! that 's for the roses, love,” said I.
To a flower-filled, crystal vase close by,
With a pleading smile and an accent bland;—
“Nay! that 's for the roses, love,” said I.
She gazed at them, and she gazed at me,
Young thought had awakened a dawning star!
And it shone in her eyes, as she asked in glee,
“Are the Roses drinking the water, Mama?”
Young thought had awakened a dawning star!
And it shone in her eyes, as she asked in glee,
“Are the Roses drinking the water, Mama?”
49
A HYMN.
Approach not the altar,
With gloom in thy soul,
Nor let thy feet falter,
From terror's control!
With gloom in thy soul,
Nor let thy feet falter,
From terror's control!
God loves not the sadness
Of fear and mistrust;
Oh! serve him with gladness,
The gentle, the Just!
Of fear and mistrust;
Oh! serve him with gladness,
The gentle, the Just!
His bounty is tender,
His being is Love,
His smile fills with splendor
The blue arch above!
His being is Love,
His smile fills with splendor
The blue arch above!
50
Confiding, believing,
Oh! enter always
“His courts with thanksgiving,
His portals with praise!”
Oh! enter always
“His courts with thanksgiving,
His portals with praise!”
Nor come to the temple
With pride in thy mien;
But lowly and simple
In courage serene,
With pride in thy mien;
But lowly and simple
In courage serene,
Bring meekly before Him
The faith of a child,
Bow down and adore Him
With heart undefiled!
The faith of a child,
Bow down and adore Him
With heart undefiled!
Then “by the still waters
And through the green shade,”
With Zion's glad daughters,
Thy paths shall be made!
And through the green shade,”
With Zion's glad daughters,
Thy paths shall be made!
51
TRUST IN HEAVEN.
The coldest hour of all the nightPrecedes the sunrise-shining;—
The wildest cloud, though dark to sight,
Has still “its silver lining.”
73
EXTRACT FROM A BABY'S LETTER TO HER COUSIN.
And Julia, dear, when left alone,
And half awake within your crib,
Do you not sometimes hear a tone,
(I hope you never tell a fib,)
A silvery tone, close, close above you,
As if some warbling cherub-child
Had stolen from Heaven to see and love you?
And have you not in rapture smiled,
And talked in whispers sweet and low
About your play, your griefs, and joys,
And begged the baby not to go,
And promised it your prettiest toys?
I have,—I often do;—Mama
Thinks all young children thus are blest,
That infant angels come from far,
To watch and share their sinless rest.
And half awake within your crib,
Do you not sometimes hear a tone,
(I hope you never tell a fib,)
A silvery tone, close, close above you,
As if some warbling cherub-child
Had stolen from Heaven to see and love you?
And have you not in rapture smiled,
And talked in whispers sweet and low
About your play, your griefs, and joys,
And begged the baby not to go,
And promised it your prettiest toys?
74
Thinks all young children thus are blest,
That infant angels come from far,
To watch and share their sinless rest.
And, Julia, when again I hear
My spirit-playmate's accent clear,
And see again the wavy gleam
Of golden winglets, in my dream,
I'll tell the angel-child of you,
And pressing on its lip of dew
A loving kiss, I'll bid it fly
To where you in your beauty lie,
And bring me in another trip
A message from your own sweet lip!
My spirit-playmate's accent clear,
And see again the wavy gleam
Of golden winglets, in my dream,
I'll tell the angel-child of you,
And pressing on its lip of dew
A loving kiss, I'll bid it fly
To where you in your beauty lie,
And bring me in another trip
A message from your own sweet lip!
86
TO MY READERS.
My dear little friends,
You will ask “who are they?”
When you read in this book about
Ellen and May.
You will ask “who are they?”
When you read in this book about
Ellen and May.
I will tell you.—They're two
Little children, like you,
And Ellen has grey eyes,
May has blue.
Little children, like you,
And Ellen has grey eyes,
May has blue.
They both love dearly
With babies to play,
And they've dolls by the dozen,
My Ellen and May.
With babies to play,
And they've dolls by the dozen,
My Ellen and May.
87
The oldest is Ellen,
A still, little maid,
Shy, thoughtful, and of
Her own shadow afraid!
A still, little maid,
Shy, thoughtful, and of
Her own shadow afraid!
A blush and a tear
O'er her delicate cheek
Will steal, in a moment,
If roughly we speak.
O'er her delicate cheek
Will steal, in a moment,
If roughly we speak.
She 's a Sensitive-plant,
That we tenderly nurse;
But May, little May,
Is the very reverse!
That we tenderly nurse;
But May, little May,
Is the very reverse!
Wild, roguish, and frolicsome,
Saucy, and bright,
She 's singing or dancing
From morning till night.
Saucy, and bright,
She 's singing or dancing
From morning till night.
88
You must come to me, darling,
Some fair summer's day,
And I'll introduce you
To Ellen and May!
Some fair summer's day,
And I'll introduce you
To Ellen and May!
| The snow-drop | |