My creation is a blessing
To the indigent secured,
Banishing the cares distressing
Which so many have endured:
Mine are sinews superhuman,
Ribs of oak and nerves of steel—
I'm the Iron Needle-Woman
Born to toil and not to feel.
My Lady Waits for Me.
Suggested by a popular German melody.
My lady waits!—'Tis now the hour
When morn unbars her gates!—
My vessel glides beneath the tower
Where now my lady waits.
Her signal flutters from the wall,
Above the friendly sea!
I life but to obey her call!
My lady waits for me.
My lady waits—for me she waits,
While morning opes her golden gates.
My lady waits!—No fairer flower
E'er deck'd the floral grove,
Than she, the pride of hall and bower,
The lady of my love!
The eastern hills are flecked with light,
The land-breeze curls the sea!
By love and truth sustained, for flight,
My lady waits for me.
My lady waits—for me she waits,
While morning opes her golden gates.
Music.
The wind-harp has music it moans to the tree,
And so has the shell that complains to the sea,
The lark that sings merrily over the lea,
The reed of the rude shepherd boy!
We revel in music when day has begun,
When rock-fountains gush into glee as they run,
And stars of the morn sing their hymns to the sun,
Who brightens the hill-tops with joy!
The spirit of melody floats in the air,
Her instruments tuning to harmony there,
Our senses beguiling from sorrow and care,
In blessings sent down from above!
But Nature has music far more to my choice—
And all in her exquisite changes rejoice!
No tones thrill my heart like the dear human voice
When breathed by the being I love!
The Millionaire.
In the upper circles
Moves a famous man
Who has had no equal
Since the world began.
He was once a broker
Down by the exchange;
He is now a nabob—
Don't you think it strange?