• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Poem
 Frontispiece
 Poem
 Poem
 Poem
 Poem
 Poem
 Poem
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: The gathering of the lilies
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00035145/00001
 Material Information
Title: The gathering of the lilies
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : col. ill. ; 30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Whitelock, Louise Clarkson, 1865-1928
Whitelock, Louise Clarkson, 1865-1928 ( Illustrator )
Whittier, John Greenleaf, 1807-1892 ( Author )
J. L. Sibole & Co ( Publisher )
A. Hoen & Co
Publisher: J.L. Sibole & Co.
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Manufacturer: A. Hoen & Co., Lithographers and Printers
Publication Date: c1877
 Subjects
Subject: Natural history -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Flowers -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1877   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1877
Genre: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
poetry   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
United States -- Maryland -- Baltimore
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: illustrated by the author, L. Clarkson ; colored plates and lithographic etchings.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00035145
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223386
notis - ALG3635
oclc - 61353477

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover1
        Cover2
    Front Matter
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
    Table of Contents
        Page iv
    Poem
        Page 1
    Frontispiece
        Page 2
    Poem
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Poem
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Poem
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    Poem
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Poem
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    Poem
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
    Back Cover
        Cover3
        Cover4
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text



































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The Baldwn Library
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Illustrated by the author,

AUTHOR OF



"Violet, with Eyes of Blue."



#olorqd Plates and Iithographic i$ching.



PHIL A DELPHIA:



J. L. SIBOLE & CO.
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Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the year 1877,

By J. L. SIBOLE,

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.





















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A. HOEN & 0O.
Lithographers and Printers, Baltimore, Md.























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POEMS,



1.-DEDICATION, J. (. G Whittier,
II.-THE GATHERING OF THE LILIES.
111.-TO THE EASTER LILY.



IV.-FAST LITTLE MISS CROCUS.
V.-BURIED LILIES.
VI.-THE LAST LILY.



VII.-CROWNED.







ILLUSTRATIONS.



FRONTISPIECE,
JAPAN LILY,
GARDEN LILY,

MEADOW LILY,
LILY OF THE VALLEY,

DAY LILY,

TIGER LILY,
WATER LILY,
CALLA LILY,
EASTER LILY,
Miss CROCUS, "Morning,"
MISS CRocUS, "Evening,"
BURIED LILIES,
LAST LILY,
CROWNED,
LILY OF ST. JOSEPH,



Water Color.
Etching.


Water Color.
f. 7, after Gilbert.
Water Color.
Etching.



Water Color.
- Crayon Drawings.































DEDICATED

TO F. S.



REMEMBERANCE.

"For the calm thy kindness lent
To a path of discontent,
Rough with trial and dissent;

Gentle words where such were few.
Softening blame where blame was true,
Praising where small praise was due;

For a waking dream made good,
For an ideal understood,
For thy christian womanhood;

For thy marvelous gift to cull
From our common life and dull
Whatsoe'er is beautiful;

Thoughts and fancies, Hybla's bees
Dropping sweetness ; true heart's-ease
Of congenial sympathies;-

Still for these I own my debt ;
Memory with her eyelids wet,
Fain would thank thee even yet

And as one who scatters flowers
Where the Queen of May's sweet hours
Sits, o'ertwined with blossomed bowers,

In superfluous zeal bestowing
Gifts where gifts are overflowing,
So I pay the debt I'm owing,

Well assured that thou wilt take
Even the offering which I make
SKindly for the giver's sake."
7. G. Whittier.






















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7rpan Lily.



ariiiles, every one

Nodding brightly to the sun,


Pioud and happy to be won


By his glance.


Not a flower is so gay


As we are, the live-long day,


And with butterflies we play

And Ilit and dance.'



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Garden LZ.'i



n ,te royal lilies, too,


Just as richly born as you.


And we bear the perfume true


In our breath.


But in quiet we would grow,


"In the zephyr swinging slow;


\V'e think life is easier so.


And easier death."



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Meadow Lily.


na tiny Meadow Lily;
If you've children here, I'll stay
Just a while.

You great flowers call me silly


And you look so very chilly


When you smile.


But the children love to play


With me every Summer day:


If you've children here, I'll stay


Just a while.
















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Lcl. or the Vatte).



ass us by, for we are pale,


Little lilies of the vale;


God hath made us very frail,


Yet we give


Love to all the flowers that grow,


And the flowers love us so;


We are happier than you know.


Just to live.



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SDay Lil.


Sa1' lilies, looking down,

Modest in our glistening gown

As the cow-slip dressed in brown;

For we say,

Surely we are born in state;

But our honors will not wait,

And our life, early and late,

Is a day.



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Tiger La r.



kl!trely, friends, I bear your name;

Do not look at me with blame,

And so sadly put to shame

My yellow face.

I am lily-born like you:

But the morning bath in dew

Will not make me fair to view

As my race."



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1111 -



I*,: .' Liy'

r- r_- lilies of' the lake,


Never more than half awake;


Even in our dreams, we make


Music sweet.


We go sailing, sailing by,


Underneath the happy sky,


Happy at our ease to lie

In rest complete."



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AdeMi










































Cjzal. Li:I.

"isten to th' imperious call:

"-Lilies! Lilies! silence all:

In my peerless presence fall

At my feet.

I have come my crown to share:-

On my bosom I will bear

The valley-lily, who is fair

As she is sweet."
















See where comes their lovely queen!

Down her robe of velvet green

Flows the royal satin sheen,

Pearly white.

And her face is high and fair:

Never mortal queen could wear

Such a grand and stately air

As this sprite.






To their sovereign low they bow;

Yet each would be first,-and now

Clamors each to deck her brow

With honors sought,

But the valley-lily, from

The dark curtains of her home,

In her sweet content is dumb,

Asking nought.































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O THE ASTER JILY.




O Easter Lily, lift your shining head;
Brush off the shadow of the barren mould;

For Winter, who hath bound you fast, is dead,
And Summer wooes you to his heart of gold.




Sleep, Christmas Lilies, neathh the Christmas snow
For on your white lips is the kiss of death,
And while the happy hours come and go,

Still shall we wait and miss your fragrant breath.



Wake, 0 June Lilies! stir in your green beds,
Whisper life's secret to your listening heart;

The Sun, himself, shall crown your royal heads
When you have burst your thousand buds apart.




Bloom now, O Easter Lilies! wreathe and twine
Your silver stars around the glad, new earth;
The last year's leaf hath died that you may shine,
And there is Resurrection in your birth.
April 1, 1877.





























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AAST LITTLE



SISS CROCUS.



Time folks was getting' up--
They're so slow.
I've been awake here
Hours ago!


Reckon I'll peep out:-
Who's afraid?
That dark aint nothing ,
Only shade.


Been here long enough
In my bed:
Guess I'll push blanket
Off my head.



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My Stars! what a world!

Ain't it white!
I believe the clouds fell

Down in the night.




I smell something :

My! that's good!

Must be Arbutus

Up in the wood.




If there ain't Snow-drop!

Seems to me

She'd better stay where

She oughter be.




Wonder what brought her

Out so soon.

S'pose she thought 'twas

Afternoon.




She'll get her nose nipped:

Serve her right!

Small children like her

Must keep out o' sight.











Wind needn't blow so!
Makes such a din.
Good gracious!-guess I'd
Better go in.



Where's my blanket gone?
Cold hurts so.
Poor little Crocus is
Freezin' up-oh!



B'lieve I'm an orphan, now;
-Goin' to-die!
And be-an angel--
Up in the sky!



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BURIED ILIES.




WRITTEN FOR TAUBERr'S CRADLE SONG.




A white and wintry sky

From which the snow-flakes fly;

A wide and white and wintry world,

To which the flying snow is hurled;

Whereon it lies, as we all must,

And, like us, mingles with the dust,

Where wait the flowers, in graves unseen,

Until the spring is green.




Across the plain, the sheep,

Wet and forsaken creep;

The north-wind is not tempered to

The bleating lamb or shivering ewe.

Is there, nowhere, a sheltering fold

Where they can wait, from storm and cold,

For Summer shine, through Winter sheen

To make their pastures green?













A sad and hopeless heart,

From which the tear-drops start,

And fall across the lonely life

Where joys are dead, and storms are rife;

Where skies have early lost their gold,

And far-off seems the sheltering fold;-

Yet hope has prayers, her tears between,

And keeps her memory green.




O earth beneath thy snow!

O heart beneath thy woe!

The snow melts lightly in the dust,

Through which the buried lilies thrust.

And grief and death shall pass away,

When God has brought us into day;

So through things seen, to the unseen,

He keeps His Heaven green.


































S t( -t
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THE LAST JILY.



"0 nmy lost love !
And my own lae !
And nmyI loe that loved ne so!
/s there never a chink
In the world above
Where they listen for words from below ?"



She seemed like one in a painful dream,

And she brooded the whole day long;

And over and over she said to herself

The words of the sad, lone song.



JAN IwGELOW.



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And in her lap, all wet with her tears,
Was a lily, brown and dead--

"He kissed my hand when he gave me this;

'Twas the last he gave me," she said.




And the anxious mother watched her face,

And questioned her: "0 Lucile,

Why will you dream this dream of woe,

When you dreamed no dream of weal?




"You have said you would that he came no more;

You have said he was nothing to you"-

" I was false to him in his life," she said,

In his death I will be true."




But the mother cried: ''What is truth to him

When it cometh now, too late?

What use to cherish a memory flower

Beside the grave of his fate?




"He came and went through the Summer days,

And you wished him far away;

You never longed for his coming then,

Why long, my child, to-day?













" He came and went through the winter nights,

And he vexed you-I know not how;

And yop prayed, "forget me"-O Lucile!

Why not forget him now?




"He came when the skies were fair or dark,

And his presence was ever a cross"-

"0 mother! How could I tell," she sobbed,

That his absence would be loss?




"I might have loved him and blest his life

That he kept so empty for me,"-

("Nay, dear, but his life," she said, "is filled
With the things of eternity.")




"0 hard remorse! why follow my soul

With chidings all the day long?

He hath won more than love of mine could give

And he hath forgotten the wrong."




"Nay, child, is it wrong when a woman's heart

Cannot answer a good man's love?

If she's true, the angels will call her pure,

And pity her, up above.














"0 loss! 0 change! is it fair to throw

Such a halo around his name,

When, if wishing were changed to reality,

She must deny him the same?"




"0 helpless retrospect! Why efface

The truth, and leave but the dream?

If he could return, he would never be

To her, what it makes him seem.




" If he came again from his radiant home,

Where, at last, his love hath "forgot,"

With the old familiar look-Lucile,

Would you welcome him back, or not?




"If you heard, to night, through the driving rain,

The step you so often have heard,

I think you would turn away as before,

And never give him a word.




"You would find, if his heart were just as warm,

That yours could be just as cold,

And his wooing just as weary a thing,

As ever in days of old."













"Stay, mother!" she cried-"in those careless years

He was faithfulest, truest of men;

He loved me above all my waywardness,

And I could not love him then;




"And I know, if his going home were a dream

And I'd waken to find him to-day,

My woman's heart would be true to its fate,

And I'd wish him far away.




"But because he hath grown unconscious of me,

I would have him seek me yet;

And because I gave him not what he sought

My life is sharp with regret.




"For he stretched out his arms to me to the end,

And I helped him not. Now dim,

As his eyes in death, are mine with tears,

And I stretch out my arms to him."




"You loved him not, yet you think of him so?

Lucile, your words are wild;

His love was no more than other loves

That are reaching to you, my child."

















But she said: "Other loves are nothing to me,

Because of one face I miss;

Because on my lap no lilies are laid,

And on my hands no kiss.





"And his fond, fond love to my thought comes back,

And I know it was pure and strong;

But I shall have it no more-no more,

Tho' the years be ever so long.





"And I know, as the seasons come and go,

And I sit here all alone,

I shall keep in my heart the old, sad song,

And sing it for my own."





"How could I tell
I would love him to-day,
Whom that day I held not dear?
How could I know
I would love him away,
When I did not love him anear?"
JAN NaGtow.



_ _I __



































/-
















R OWNED,




"As the lily among thorns, so is my love."



RABBONI! who hath crowned Thee with these thorns?
O Master! who hath bowed Thy human head?
Who is it, Lord, that hath betrayed Thee thus?-
""Who is it?'-Thou, that speakest it, hast said'-
The careless one that dips with Me the bread.



" Ye deck Me in the purple of your scorn;
The cross of your rejection is on Me;
And weeping angels see Me daily led,
By your denials, unto Calvary:-
And ask ye, who can the betrayer be?"



O Jesus! and has He no human friends
In all this weary cruel human place?
Will no one see the pathos of His love
Upon His wounded, white, and stricken face,
And in the shameful thorns, His sufferings trace?



Oh! for some sinless, worthy, human hand
To lift the marring thorns from off His brow.
O gentle King!-King of humility!
No crown i's half divine enough; for Thou
Art crowned with Thy majestic patience now.












"And would ye crown Me? O dim-sighted souls!

Behold, My crown shall be your faithfulness.

Yet bring the meek white lilies, for a sign

Among man's thorns, of God's forgivingness,

And round my head the cool, wet petals press.



"Then shall I wear a crown so lowly, that

The princes of this world deny my birth.

'I am the Lily of the Valleys,' and

I scatter my white peace throughout the earth,

And the redeemed, alone, confess its worth."




V. --
,,,,, -.[ -_--_ __-; -.-:-- . -.



THE LILY OF ST JOSEPH



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