AUTUMN DAYS.
The summer joys are fleeting fast
From forest, field and glen,
And soon shall winter’s piercing blast
Sweep o’er the earth again.
How lovely were the bright spring flow’rs,
That decked the landscape o’er;
But now we see, on fields and bow’rs,
Their dainty forms no more.
The leaves are falling in the wind,
From many a lofty height,
And birds are calling to their kind,
Upon their farewell flight.
But still, how cheering is the thought,
When other joys have flown;
That the little snow-bird leaves us not,
But chirps till winter’s gone.
IN HEAVEN.
One pleasant day in June a little thrush
Lit on a bough close by my window pane,
And as the streams from living fountains gush,
Poured forth its sweetest strain.
My heart then felt released from every care,
And seemed to rise toward Heaven’s enchanted zone,
When soon the music ceased, and looking there,
I saw the bird had flown.
And then the thought came to me of the one
Who left me when so youthful and so fair,
Who in the light of Heaven’s unsetting sun
Lives with the angels there.
I little thought, ere those sweet smiles were gone,
That she so soon must heed the angel’s call;
But all the way He led her safely on
Who marks the sparrow’s fall.
And some day, when life’s billows cease to roar,
And here no more my weary feet shall roam,
Our souls shall be conjoined forevermore
In Heaven’s eternal home.
IDLENESS.
Make some good use of ev’ry space of time,
In idleness are sown the seeds of crime;
Man’s erring mind, allured by passions strong,
Begins pursuing here the path of wrong;
And heedless of the peril just ahead,
Step after step proceeds with fearless tread,
Till ruin comes with overwhelming power—
The bitter fate of many an idle hour!
THE RIVER.
Out from the shady woodland,
With song and laughter free;
Down from the sunny hillside,
And over the flow’ry lea,
Floweth the restless river,
On its journey to the sea.
Over the silvery pebbles,
Sparkling like morning dew,
Whether in light or darkness,
Doth ever its course pursue,
Till it gains the mighty ocean
With waters vast and blue.
And thus are WE traveling onward,—
’Tis Hope by which we’re borne,
And our hearts beat with triumphant gladness,
As we dream of some brighter dawn
With sights that are nobler and grander,
And we journey on and on.
And up from the earth’s dark bosom,
Like the homeward flight of a dove,
On Hope’s majestic pinions
We soar to the realms above,
To lave forever and ever,
In the sea of Eternal Love.
THE CROWN OF FAME.
What toils and hardships oft confront man’s sight,
When first ascending fame’s immortal height:
What cares, vexations, worriments prevail,
What deep-laid plans, repeated efforts, fail;
Yet who would dwell in hermit den, obscure,
To shun the toils that hero-gods endure!
Bestir thyself, O man, for soon—too soon,
As youth recedes, shall fade life’s golden noon!
If thou wouldst make thyself undying name,
Direct thy efforts to one worthy aim;
Let each exertion then be wrought with zeal,
Nor faint if woe come where thou look’st for weal;
But toil thou on, nor fear the world’s dark frown,
Till firm upon the summit of renown.
Whatever good, perchance, thy toils, may greet,
Lose not thyself in folly’s vain conceit:
False pride to lowest degradation tends—
It leads to vice and vice to crime descends;
As tiny rills, that from the mountain flow,
Pursue their course to larger streams below,
Till seas are joined where mighty billows roll,
So pride goes onward till it wrecks the soul;
Thus by degrees the downward course begins,
And greatest evils rise from little sins.
Nor seek thy fame ’mid pompous scenes of art,
Where vice and folly oft inure the heart:
’Tis Right eternal kindles honor’s flame,
And crowns Man’s efforts with immortal Fame.
ELEGY,
On the death of Hon. C. B. Clark, member of Congress from 1887 to 1891, for Wisconsin district No. 6, (now No. 8.) Died Sept. 10th, 1891.
Well may the throngs in countless numbers weep,
Bereft of such a great and noble man,
For brilliant was the course of life he ran,
But now he lies in everlasting sleep.
He lived a life exempt from selfish pride;
He never turned a stranger from his door;
He ne’er refused to aid the needful poor;
He proved to youth a never-failing guide.
Alas! we mourn, with aching in our breast
And eyelids moistened with the burning tear,
The loss of one, so generous and sincere,
Now silent in his sweet and peaceful rest.
A REVERIE.
O glad shall I be when the winter is ended,
When the wild sweeping blasts of the season are gone,
When the last flakes of snow to the ground have descended,
And the drifts have all vanished from meadow and lawn.
O glad shall I be when these cold days are over,
And the bright joys of summer are with us again;
When the meadows are blooming with sweet-scented clover,
And the warm sun is smiling on new fields of grain.
O glad shall I be, when as free as the air
The birds are all singing their merriest lay,
To remind me of days when I knew naught of care,
And the seasons all seemed like a long summer day.
O spring! merry spring! with thy fragrance of flowers,
To thee from my sorrows I longingly turn;—
I’ll forget the drear scenes of these long winter hours,
And dream of thy blessings and happy return.
OPPORTUNITY.
Time is ever swiftly fleeting,
Unimproved by scores of men;
Opportunities are passing
That we’ll never have again;
Many things we may accomplish,
As the hours go speeding on,
If we but improve each moment,
Ere the precious time is gone.
There are many hearts about us,
That a loving word might cheer;
There are many dear ones with us,
That ere long may not be here:
Let us then be wise and thoughtful,
As our course we journey on,
Striving for the good of others
Ere the precious time is gone.
LINES
Written on hearing a gentleman remark: “God bless dear woman.”
“God bless dear woman!” did I hear you say?
Full many a man might wisely thus remark!
How oft her smiles have cheered man’s troubled way,
And comfort brought when fortune’s sky was dark—
The vine that clings unto the oak, whose bark
Is coarse and rough and void of pleasing grace;
And like a dove within the cheerless Ark,
Mid life’s drear scenes we see her sweetly face,
And in God’s best design, there love and beauty trace!
MY LADY FAIR.
When aged winter, fierce and grim,
Had ceased his surly reign,
And virgin spring again adorned
The forest, field and plain;
One morning when the sun was bright
And music filled the air,
I wandered o’er the meadow sweet
Beside my lady fair!
We strolled along ’mid blooming flow’rs,
Till ’neath a spreading tree,
We sat where swift the raptured hours
Flew o’er my love and me;
And when at last time bade us part,
I kissed those lips so sweet,
And little dreamed but we should still
Oft thus together meet.
But us the stars of heav’n depart,
When dawn her glory brings,
One morn the angels bore her off
Upon their snowy wings!
Yet, in the golden realms above,
I trust some day to see,
With endless joy, the one who made
This earth a Heaven to me!
TO A FIRE-FLY.
Blithesome insect, gently flying
Thro’ the shades of night,
As we see thy rays of brightness,
May our hopes be bright;
And tho’ with life’s cares encompass’d,
May our hearts be light.
MY OLD NEW ENGLAND HOME.
When the stars above, in gladness,
Twinkle thro’ the evening gloam,
With a mingled joy and sadness,
Often do my fancies roam
Backward to the vanished pleasures
Of my old New England home.
In that home I see my mother—
Of all earthly friends the best—
At her side my younger brother,
With his youthful pleasures blest;
And my little brown-eyed sister,
Sleeping on her mother’s breast.
And within that sacred dwelling
Father’s cheerful face I see,
And I hear him kindly telling
Us to ever loyal be;—
On the battle-field he perished,
When they made our country free.
When he went away, our mother
Safely led our little band,
And she taught us of another
Loving Father, whose strong hand,
Never would forsake his children,
If they heeded His command:
Taught us, in our youth and beauty,
Ne’er to turn our feet aside
From the paths of truth and duty,
Whatsoever might betide;
But to keep the path of wisdom,
And obey our Heavenly guide.
Back to home and all its pleasures
Often do my fancies roam,
And to me, the richest treasures
Under heaven’s starry dome,
Were the blessings of my childhood,
In that old New England home.
A LOVER’S LAMENT.
As lillies, arrayed in their loveliness, fade,
So faded my fairest—my love:
My joys have all fled, for my darling is dead—
O Stella! My dearest, my dove!
The loveliest flowers, in this sad world of ours,
Are soonest from us to depart—
Are first to decay; and thus faded away
The tenderest joy of my heart.
My hopes, once so bright, have all taken their flight,
For gone is my beautiful dove:
I’m weary with grief, and shall ne’er find relief,
Till I rest with my darling above.
FACES THAT ARE GONE.
How we long to see the faces
That have crossed the silent tide—
Faces marked with care and sorrow,
Faces full of joy and pride;
Some with furrowed brow and hoary,
Some in youth’s lamented bloom;—
One by one from us departed,
For the cold and silent tomb.
Birds employ their notes of gladness
As they flutter to and fro,
Flow’rs display their wealth of beauty,
As they used to long ago;
But the birds may sing forever,
And the flow’rs forever bloom;
They can ne’er bring back the faces
That are hidden in the tomb!
Silently death steals upon us,
Silently time speedeth on—
Soon we, too, shall all be numbered,
With the faces that are gone;
Each and all must shortly follow
Thro’ the shadows and the gloom,
To the loved ones who are waiting
In the light beyond the tomb.
THE TRUE WAY.
We know that we’re stubborn and willful,
And tho’ we have kindly been shown
The true way, which God has appointed,
We often go on in our own.
And thus we go on in the darkness,
Groping our way thro’ the night;
Unmindful ofttimes of His goodness,
And missing His glorious light.
But still He looks down with compassion,
And e’en thro’ life’s greatest alarms
We’re sheltered and safely protected,
As weak little lambs in His arms.
Could we but have more of His goodness
Implanted each day in our heart,
Perhaps there are others about us
Who’d feel the rich joy we’d impart.
Could our love, every day, be to others
As the love from our Maker above,
O what a grand army of brothers
Would be banded together in love!
PITCHER OR JUG.
Which brings poverty and woe,
Which makes useless tears to flow,
Which brings scorn where’er we go,
Pitcher or jug?
Which fades beauty, health and bloom,
Which turns happiness to gloom,
Which leads to the drunkard’s tomb,
Pitcher or jug?
TWO LIVES.
They started out together
Amid the worldly din;
One yielded to temptation,
And lived a life of sin:
They found his lifeless body
One pleasant summer dawn,
All mangled in the gutter—
A wretched life was gone.
The other trod the pathway
Of righteousness and truth,
And kept his soul as spotless
As in his early youth;
And when his voyage was ended,
On Heaven’s blissful shore
He joined the great reunion,
Where parting is no more.
MEDITATION.
’Mid scenes of mystery life’s tide rolls onward;
And tho’ some, delving deep in caves of knowledge,
Have revealed wondrous facts, this life, concerning,
Still blind they are to most of life’s great features;
How powerless to perceive the future’s movements,
Or e’en explain the present things about them!
We little more than know that we’re existing,
’Mid scenes that time and tide are changing ever.
Hope is a star that lures men ever onward,
Oft seeming near and yet forever distant;
Contentment is an isle where man, if ever,
Has seldom dwelt amid the scenes enchanting;
Love is a dew-drop on the rose-bush glowing,
Soon to depart as e’en the bush must perish:
All things of earth are like the fleeting shadows
Except the love of Him whose power and wisdom
Exceeds, by far, man’s deepest understanding,
And He, who clothes the lillies in their beauty,
Who feeds his flocks and marks the falling sparrow,
Will shield His children from life’s raging tempests,
And lead them safe through waters of affliction
Until, at last, beyond the vales and shadows,
Their eyes behold that Land of endless beauty.
TEMPUS FUGIT.
Men sleep, but time speeds on;
The sun comes out at dawn
O’er hill and town,
At eve goes down,
But ever time speeds on.
Men die—the world moves on,
And when our forms are gone,
New hearts arise,
To seek earth’s prize;
And thus the world moves on.
GLADNESS.
Let thy heart, attuned to gladness,
Every fear and doubt dispel—
Banish idle thoughts of sadness,
Then shall joy thy bosom swell.
THE RAINBOW.
Howe’er dark the clouds may hover
O’er thy pathway, ne’er repine;
Mark thou, when the storm is over,
In the heaven that beautious line!
