[OUR LADY OF THE MANSE.]
Of all those born into the name to share
The charming freedom of the Porter Manse,
None were more worthy of inheritance
Than she who now presides as lady there.
Her gracious calm makes hospitality wear
A beauteous crown of peace. Kind tolerance
And wide-embracing sympathy enhance
Her power to please and lighten daily care.
'Tis only such rare souls who pierce the truth
Of home-life secrets, and through tact and grace,
Make growing years reflect the joys of youth.
They lose not hope, though sorrow leave a trace
In all their joy. Such cannot fail, forsooth,
Of making home a loved abiding place.
[TO B. P. SHILLABER.]
July 12, 1888.
When lingering Day at last recedes from sight,
And Night comes slowly forth to fill her place,
Preceded by a twilight-hour's loved face
Reflecting glorious rays of sunset light,
'Tis then my thoughts go wandering with delight
Through oft-frequented avenues of space
To those dear souls—the dearest of the race—
Who've dwelt with me on friendship's purest height.
From this old mountain-top I come to you,
My large souled trusted friend of many a year,
With birthday greetings of the roseate hue
Left by a perfect Day just lingering here.
Oh, may life's twilight hold a peace as true,
And be as filled with hope of dawn's sweet cheer!
Mount Wachusett, Mass.