• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Trailing arbutus
 The rose and the star
 My garden
 Dorothy
 To-day
 Pilgrim's isle
 Daffodils
 The night-blooming cereus
 Baby's first spring
 When the boats come home
 Childhood's gold
 Life
 Sunshine and shadow
 Song of the bobolinks
 Reverses
 The road to Slumberland
 A thistledown
 Consider the lilies of the...
 A "miserere" at St. Peter's
 Thou art like a flower
 Water-lilies
 Sleep
 The maiden's confession
 By the Arno
 Trust
 It is raining, little flower
 The selfish pansies
 The bridge of sighs
 September
 The children of the poor
 Two love letters
 Midsummer
 Hesperides
 Year after year
 One the terrace
 Through a window
 The cry of the dreamer
 Love's flower
 Oh, for a swing in the old elm...
 The end
 Back Cover






Title: Buds and blossoms
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065452/00001
 Material Information
Title: Buds and blossoms
Physical Description: 65 p. : ill. ; 25 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Millais, John Everett, 1829-1896 ( Illustrator )
Reynolds, Joshua, 1723-1792 ( Illustrator )
Morgan, Matthew Somerville, 1839-1890 ( Illustrator )
Peterson Magazine Co ( Publisher )
Illman Brothers ( Printer )
Publisher: Peterson Magazine Co.
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Publication Date: 1889
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Flowers -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Birds -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1889
Genre: poetry   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: illustrated.
General Note: Illustrations engraved and printed by Illman Brothers after J.E. Millais, Joshua Reynolds and John Morgan.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065452
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 - 002223072
notis - ALG3320
oclc - 18887421

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Trailing arbutus
        Page 5
    The rose and the star
        Page 6
    My garden
        Page 7
    Dorothy
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    To-day
        Page 11
    Pilgrim's isle
        Page 12
    Daffodils
        Page 13
    The night-blooming cereus
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Baby's first spring
        Page 16
    When the boats come home
        Page 16
        Page 17
    Childhood's gold
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    Life
        Page 21
    Sunshine and shadow
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Song of the bobolinks
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Reverses
        Page 26
    The road to Slumberland
        Page 27
    A thistledown
        Page 28
    Consider the lilies of the field
        Page 29
    A "miserere" at St. Peter's
        Page 30
        Page 31
    Thou art like a flower
        Page 32
    Water-lilies
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Sleep
        Page 34
    The maiden's confession
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
    By the Arno
        Page 39
    Trust
        Page 40
    It is raining, little flower
        Page 41
    The selfish pansies
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The bridge of sighs
        Page 44
    September
        Page 44
        Page 45
    The children of the poor
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Two love letters
        Page 49
    Midsummer
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Hesperides
        Page 52
        Page 53
    Year after year
        Page 54
    One the terrace
        Page 54
        Page 55
    Through a window
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
    The cry of the dreamer
        Page 59
    Love's flower
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    Oh, for a swing in the old elm tree
        Page 63
    The end
        Page 64
        Page 65
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text

























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BUDS P BLOSSOMS












ILLUSTRATED


PHILADELPHIA
PETERSON MAGAZINE CO,
1889


































































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TRAILING ARBUTUS . .. . Rose Terry Cooke,. . 5
THE ROSE AND) TIE STAR, .. . A. E. Lancaster, . 6
MY GARDEN, .... ......... .. Ralph Waldo Emerson, .... 7
DOROTHY, .............. Hedderwick Browne, . 8
To-DAY, .... ............. ..Anonymous, ......... .11
PILGRIM'S ISLE, .. .. Thomas William Parsons, 12
DAFFODILS, .... .William Wordsworth, ... .13
THE NIGHT-BLOOMING CEREUS, . Jessie F. O'Donnell,.. . 14
BABY'S FIRST SPRING, . .... . Margaret Haycraft, . .. 16
WHEN THE BOATS COME HOME, .. . Sarah Doudney, . ... 16
CHILDHOOD'S GOLD, .. .. . .Lucy Larcom, . . 18
LIFE, .. ...... . .Anna Letitia Barbauld, ... 21
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW . .... ...Grace Greenwood, . 21
SONG OF THE BOBOLINKS,. .. Thomas HI. Muzzey, ... .. .24
REVERSES, ................ .Byron R. Hill . .. .26
THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND, . Anonymous, ....... .27
A THISTLEDOWN, ... ...... .Emma S. Thomas, .. .. 28
CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FIELD, ..... .Anonymous, . .. 29
A "MISEEREE" AT ST. PETER'S, .. ... .Charles J. Peterson,.. . 30
THOU ART LIKE A FLOWER, ... .. Heinrich Heine,. . .. .32
WATER-LILIES, . . . Anonymous, . .. .. 32
SLEEP, . ...... .. .... Elizabeth Barrett Browning, .34













THE MAIDEN'S CONFSSION, . . Ann S. Stephens, . 35
BY THE ARNO, . . Frank Lee Benedict, .. .. 39
TRUST, ............... .Anonymous . .. 40
IT is RAINING, LITTLE FLOWER, . .. Anonymous, . ... 41
THE SELFISH PANSIES, . . .. .Pearl Eytinge, .. . .42
THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS . . ... Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, .... 44
SEPTEMBER, . . ... Helen Hunt, . ... 44
THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR, . . Charles Algernon Swinburne, .. 46
Two LOVE LETTERS, . . W. L. Falconer .. . .. 49
MIDSUMMER, . . . ..... J. T. Trowbridge, . 50
HESPERIDES. ................ Belle Bremer ....... .. 52
YEAR AFTER YEAR, ... .... .. Dinah Mulock Craik, . 54
ON THE TERRACE, . . . Gleeson White, . .. .54
THROUGH A WINDOW, .. . .. .. Louise Chandler Moulton, 56
THE CRY OF THE DREAMER, . .. .John B. O'Reilly, . .. 59
LOVE'S FLOWER, . . ... Minna Irving, . .. 60
OH, FOR A SWING IN THE OLD ELM TREE, Elizabeth A. Davis, ...... 63
THE END, ......... ...... .Anonymous, ......... 64













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-d- TRAILING ARBUTUS.


BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.

S DARLINGS of the forest!
Blossoming alone,
_r When Earth's grief is sorest
For her jewels gone-
"AEre the last snow-drift melts,
Your tender buds have blown.

) Tinged with color faintly,
Like the morning sky,
Or, more pale and saintly,
Wrapped in leaves ye lie
; "- Even as children sleep
S' In faith's simplicity.

k.*. There the wild-wood robin
Hymns your solitude;
And the rain comes sobbing
T SThrough the budding wood,
-'" l .''. While the low south wind sighs,
But dare not be more rude.






5










Were your pure lips fashioned
Out of air and dew-
Starlight unimpassioned,
Dawn's most tender hue,
And scented by the woods
That gathered sweets for you?

Fairest and most lonely,
From the world apart;
Made for beauty only,
Veiled in Nature's heart
With such unconscious grace
As makes the dream of art.

Were not mortal sorrow
An immortal shade,
Then would I to-morrow
Such a flower be made,
And live in the clear wood
Where my lost childhood played.



THEIR ROSE AND THE STAR.

BY A. E. LANCASTER.

A WILDWOOu rose awoke from its midnight rest
Beneath a lonely star's caressing light,
And sighed: "O wondrous human world, how blest
To roam like thee, forever fair and bright!"

The radiant star, strange home of mortal strife,
Murmured, in memory of its hapless reign:
"0 gentle flower, had I thy tranquil life,
That fragrant sleep, that knows no dream of pain "

6











MY GARDEN.


BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

Y garden is a forest ledge
Which older forests bound;
- The banks slope down to the blue lake edge,
Then plunge to depths profound.

In my plot no tulips blow-
Snow-loving pines and oaks instead;
And rank the savage maples grow
From spring's faint flush to autumn red.

Keen cars can catch a syllable,
As if one spake to another,
In the hemlocks tall, untamable,
And what the whispering grasses smother.

iEolian harps in the pine
Ring with the song of the Fates;
Infant Bacchus in the vine--
Far distant yet his chorus waits.

Canst thou copy in verse one chime
Of the wood-bell's peal and cry,
Write in a book the morning's prime,
Or match with words that tender sky?

Wonderful verse of the gods,
Of one import, of varied tone;
They chant the bliss of their abodes
To man imprisoned in his own.

71










DOROTHY.


BY HEDDERWICK BROWNE.


T JHE little maiden that I love,
I met in yonder lane;
A flood of sunshine seemed to fall
Around her as she came.

Methought the very hedgerows took
A tenderer, livelier green,
And blossoms burst from every bud
As she passed on between!

And gladder, madder, merrier notes
A skylark round him threw,
As high above her golden head
He poised amid the blue.

I meant to tell her all my heart,
And yet-I know not why,
Upon the threshold of my lips
The story seemed to die.

It might have been the glamour
Or the magic of her smile,
That in a spell held all my soul,
And kept me dumb the while!

It might have been that all too pure
For earth-born love seemed she;
From her white height of maidenhood
How could she stoop to me?
8





























































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'4










But eyes more eloquent can be,
And though the tongue may fail,
In potent language they reveal
The old, old tender tale.

For, placing her slim hand in mine,
Methought I heard my name
So softly, murmurously breathed,
I scarce knew whence it came!

No need for words between us now;
A subtle sweetness stole
Through all our being, and we felt
That soul had answered soul.
t
And with the sunshine in our hearts,
The birds sang in our ears-
We left the lane, my love and I,
To meet the coming years.




To- DAY.


Make a firm-built fence of trust
Around to-day;
Fill the space with loving work
And within it stay.
Look not through the sheltering bars,
Anxious for the morrow;
God will help in all that comes,
Be it joy or sorrow.
11











PILGRIM'S ISLE.

---- '
/.- ) BY THOMAS WILLIAM PARSONS.

IHERE fell a charm upon the deep,
>H 1 A spell upon the silent shore;
The boats, like lily-pads asleep,
Lay round me upon ocean's floor.

0 weary world of noise and strife,
O cities, full of gold and guile,
How small a part ye make of life
To one that walks on Pilgrim's Isle.

I watched the Gurnet's double star,
Like Jove and Venus side by side,
And on the smooth waves gleaming far
Beheld its long reflection ride.

My days of youth are almost flown,
And yet, upon a night like this,
Love will not let my heart alone;
Back comes the well-remembered bliss.

Oft in thy golden locks a gleam
Of other days illumes my brain,
And in thy hand's soft touch I seem
To feel my boyhood born again.

Ah, dearest, all will soon be o'er!
I see my sunset in thy smile;
It lingers longest on the shore,
Th' enchanted shore of Pilgrim's Isle.

12






















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- ,; *, .I .. .. 1 ,,1 ,


That floats on high o'er vale and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
And oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude.

13













THE NIGHT-BLOOMING CEREUS.

BY JESSIE F. O'DONNELL.

" VOICE from the lily-bells calling,
Rang out on the even air clear:
S"0 ye blossoms! awake, in the gardens!
The Lord of the flowers cometh near!
O awake! in the field and the woodland;
The Maker of blossoms is here!"

The poppy just murmured: "I'm sleepy!"
And nodded her round, drowsy head;
And the tulips had closed their bright shutters
"Against the night dew-drops," they said;
And the little green balls of the daisies
Never stirred in their soft, grassy bed.

But sweetly the tall, fragrant lily
Uplifted her chalice of light,
And the roses threw open their bosoms
And gladdened the fair summer night,
And the stars of the jasmine blossoms
Leaned down from the trellises' height.

The Lord, walking slow through the garden,
Smiled back at the rose's perfume,
Caressing the lily's pale petals,
Or shaking the hyacinth's plume,
Till He came where the Cereus slumbered,
Close-hiding her beautiful bloom.

14










She thrilled at the heavenly presence,
And slowly uncovered her face,
And swinging the pearl of her censer,
With reverent, ineffable grace,
Stood revealed in her magical beauty,
The soul of that wonderful place.

Spellbound at the white, growing vision,
The Lord watched the flower unfold,
Till away from the quivering stamens
The last snowy petal had rolled,
Then lie bent o'er the weird, witching blossom,
Left a kiss on its bosom of gold.

All tremulous with the keen rapture,
And rich with the Master's breath,
SNot one lesser touch shall defile me!"
The night-blooming Cereus saith,
And gathering her garments about her,
She yielded her sweetness to death.

Whenever a Cereus blossoms,
'Tis said that the Master is nigh,
That lie watches the glorious flower
Uncurl the gold stamens that lie
In tle petals that tremble with rapture,
And shut round His kiss when they die.






S15 ,

15











BABY'S FIRST SPRING.

BY MARGARET HAYCRAFT.

S HAT do you think of the spring I1.. ..r that waken,
Little white snowdrop, late drifted to earth ?
" Meadows the bands of the winter have shaken -
Now shall you pass where the violets have birth.

What will they whisper, 'mid grasses entwining,
Mother's own blossom, so softly to you?
Wondrous and strange are the beams that are shining
Golden and bright from the cloudlets of blue.

All things are fair and a marvel of glory
Unto my baby with heaven sweet face;
Sunbeams and tl..., i,.- are weaving a story
Full of enchantment and beauty and grace.

Ah when at last sunny spring shall be fading,
When in the l.'I ,i,;,l, earth's visions shall cease,
Then gentle Jesus! he tenderly aiding--
Stretch forth Thine arms-be Thou sunlight and peace.



WHEN THE BOATS COME HOME.

E BY SARAH DOUDNEY.

T jHERE'S light upon the sea to-day
And gladness on the strand;
( All! well ye know that hearts are gay
When sails draw nigh the land.

16











BABY'S FIRST SPRING.

BY MARGARET HAYCRAFT.

S HAT do you think of the spring I1.. ..r that waken,
Little white snowdrop, late drifted to earth ?
" Meadows the bands of the winter have shaken -
Now shall you pass where the violets have birth.

What will they whisper, 'mid grasses entwining,
Mother's own blossom, so softly to you?
Wondrous and strange are the beams that are shining
Golden and bright from the cloudlets of blue.

All things are fair and a marvel of glory
Unto my baby with heaven sweet face;
Sunbeams and tl..., i,.- are weaving a story
Full of enchantment and beauty and grace.

Ah when at last sunny spring shall be fading,
When in the l.'I ,i,;,l, earth's visions shall cease,
Then gentle Jesus! he tenderly aiding--
Stretch forth Thine arms-be Thou sunlight and peace.



WHEN THE BOATS COME HOME.

E BY SARAH DOUDNEY.

T jHERE'S light upon the sea to-day
And gladness on the strand;
( All! well ye know that hearts are gay
When sails draw nigh the land.

16











We followed them with thoughts and tears,
Far, far across the foam!
Dear Lord, it seems a thousand years
Until the boats come home.

We tend the children, live our life,
And toil and mend the nets;
But is there ever maid or wife
Whose faithful heart forgets?
We know what cruel dangers lie
Beneath that shining foam
And watch the changes in the sky
Until the boats come home.

There's glory on the sea to-day,
The sunset gold is bright;
Methought I heard a grandsire say,
"At eve it shall be light!"
O'er waves of crystal touched with fire
And flakes of pearly foam
We gaze-and see our hearts' desire---
The boats are coming home.















17















CHILDHOOD'S GOLD.


BY LUCY LARCOM.

HEY need not go so far away,
Through heat and cold, to hunt for gold;
" They might beside us sit or stray--
Our hands are full as they can hold.

'Twas scattered all the way from school,
In stars and bells down the dells;
We children gathered aprons full,
Where little Dandelion dwells.

And yellow Cowslip to our feet
Came, like a king, his hoard to bring;
And Columbine, with nod so sweet,
Shook gold upon our path-gay things

Our homes are sweet upon the hills,
Where love is sure and life is pure,
And sunshine every season fills:
How can a country child be poor?

No robber scares our midnight hours;
No coffers could our treasures hold:
Dewdrops and sunbeams, stars and flowers -
Gold Gold! Who shares our childhood's gold?




18






































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LIFE.


BY ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD.


B I know not what thou art,
But I know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
[ own to me'3 a secret yet.
Life! we've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear,
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime,
Bid me Good Morning.





SUNSHINE AND SHADOW.

BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

SIY gladsome thoughts go forth, beloved,
S Upon the pleasant morning hours,
With songs from tuneful-throated birds,
And earliest odors from the flowers!
Full laden with love's choicest sweets,
Each smallest thought shall come to thee
As from the red heart of a rose
Flies home the richly burdened bee.

21










My tender thoughts go forth, beloved,
Upon the golden airs of noon,
With languid odors from the :1 .. -
That flush and faint through ardent June,
With all the swiftness of the streams,
That fling out laughter as they run -
With all the brightness of the day-
With all the passion of the sun.

But when along the cloud-hung west
The last red lights grow pale and die,
When waves of sunshine roll no more,
And all one shade the wheat-fields lie;
When twilight drops down the hills,
And floats upon the far. dim sea-
Thien, oil beloved, my lone, void heart
Yearns through the distance unto thee!

And when the fresh night winds awake
To frolic all the garden through-
To bow the saintly lily's head
And spill the violet's cup of dew;
And when they higher mount, and beat
The tree's long arms against the eaves,
Troubling the robin in his nest,
And making tumult in the leaves-

Then in the silence, I can hear
Strange sounds and whisperings of dread,
And every murmur in the grass
Seems some unfriendly spirit's tread !
My very heart lies hushed and cold,
A nameless fear oppresseth me-

22









Like some lost child, my frighted
soul
Calls through the darkness
unto thee! -y '

So love, of all the thoughts I give,
('I...-.. thou the best and dearest parlt--
Thle pride of d'lv. "r -1nair of 4ni,-ltt. t-i- ,,.
T ]:,_ .... ,,. ,. ,,',,,. ,, .. .. ,.r : ... ,
T he gl,. t .. r l .1 ...'

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SONG OF THE BOBOLINKS.

BY THOMAS H. MUZZEY.


LASHSING, plashing, dip the winged boats,
Rippling on the sun-flecked waves of air-
) Dripping, dripping silver water-notes
Down a crystal stair.

Swell your melody, O liquid throats!
Time, with all its aging fret and care,
Is dissolved, and in your music floats
Back to youth and hides eternal there.

Let me drift upon your charmed tide,
Aye forgetting that the years are long-
All the hopes that cheating time denied
Thrill again in song.

Buttercups and daisies blowing wide,
Fevered pulses beating high and strong,
Down the lane we wander, side by side,
Sweetest sweetheart; but the years are long.

24










Sing, 0 bobolinks! I would not miss
The pure transport in your song ensouled:
Once again I linger, dazed with bliss,
In that lane of gold.

Paradise can hold no joy like this,
When, by thrilling hand-touch grown more hold,
On her lips my heart throbs in one kiss
Eloquent-and all our love is told.




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725











REVERSES.


HY BYRON R. 111,LL.


rose that blooms the purest
Has need of summer showers,
The oak that stands the surest
Has felt the tempest's power.

The gold that shines the fairest
The furnace fire must feel;
The gem of lustre rarest
Has known the cruel steel.

The feet that stand the strongest,
Have trod temptation's path;
The heart that bears the longest,
Has known affliction's wrath.

This principle unerring
Through all creation runs,
Framed by tie arm untiring
That guides the starry suns.

Yet to that soul possessing
Unwavering trust in right,
Defeat is but a blessing-
The rod, a sceptre bright.

For by reverses chastened,
We plainer see our needs,
Our onward march is hastened,
We rise to greater deeds.

26










THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND.



\ \ ANONYMOUS.



S a WHATr is the road to Slnmberland,
S -" And when does the baby go?
S The road lies straight through mother's arms,
SWhen the sun is sinking low.
','.- lie goes lib the drowsv Land of Nod,"
STo iniusic of "Ilnllahy,"
.- \ When all wee hulbs are safe in the fold,
Snder the evening sky.

.*. A soft little nightgown, clean and white,
u ]'... ^A -- face washed sweet and fair;
fA mother brushing the tangles out
From the silken golden hair;
STwo little tired satiny feet,
-I PS Froni the shoe and the stocking free;
F ~" Two little palms together clasped
At the mother's patient knee.

Some baby words that are drowsily lisped
In the tender h, pi P.., car,
And a kiss that only a mother can place
On the brow of her baby dear;
A little round head that nestles at last
('i..-,- to the mother's breast,
And then the lullaby, soft and low,
Singing the song of rest.

27










And closer and closer the blue-veined lids
Are hiding the baby eyes,
As over the road to Slumberland
The dear little traveler hies.
For this is the way, through mother's arms,
All dear little babies go
To the beautiful city of Slumberland,
When the sun is sinking low.




A THISTLEDOWN.

BY EMlMA S. THOMAS.

: l THIISTLEDOWN flew on the wind one day--
From over the hills and far away;
A' A little child leaving his happy play-
( i -.-.i it afar with wonderful skill,
Over the woodland, over the hill,
Crossing the meadow, crossing the rill--
'Till the woodland grew to a forest wide,
The rill to a river's turbulent tide,
And the tiny hill to a mountain side.
The sun went down and hid its light,
The stars shone out with a twinkling bright,
The world was filled with the darkness of night:
The thistledown could be seen no more,
And wayworn and weary, heartsick and sore,
lie strove to retrace the paths of yore:
Like many older and wiser grown,
lie finds lie has left a good that is known
Only to follow a thistledown.

28










I-










.... tl. lilies of the field.

'Ar -- the




S'. ,,- I,,. -.arrows of the air;

S\\ t.,I. i ,. fall or mount-
I. ,.. ,,' ,1--l us too.


'. i- "'. tlIt have no harvest
..' ', s;
..1 .: them food

S[, .....r Father seeks
T. T'.. us good.
-=






,, ,, ", .
i .,.. -
,II _~~ dt e-.
i' ~ ~ ~ ~ l 't,. ' '"l '. I jl. 'i, o.--.,_ =:; .











A MISERERE" AT ST. PETER'S.


BY CHARLES J. PETERSON.


HIE sunset, through the chapel-windows slanting,
Tints with its fading glow
The ranks of choristers, alternate chanting,
The kneeling crowd below.

They chant the Psalms; they chant the Lamentations.
The burden of their cry,
"Woe to the widowed city! Woe to nations!
The end of all is nigh!"

And sudden, through the dusk, the chant still calling,
There darts a lightning flash;
And then, as if the sky itself was falling,
The thunder, crash on crash!

One moment all things '.1..:;.., blinding, reeling;
The next, intensest night.
The chant above the rolling thunder pealing,
Triumphant in its might.

Twelve lights before the Cross, like altar-fires,
Have burned; and one for Him.
As each Psalm ends-a pause-a light expires;
'Till only His shines, dim.

The last chant stops. The last light flickers, dying.
And through the awful gloom,
And still more awful hush, dumb souls seem crying
As at the Day of Doom.

30











But now, a solitary voice, imploring,
Shoots from the depths; then dies.
Then soft begins again; and swelling, soaring,
"Pity, oh! God," it cries.

And now another, sadder still, that sobbing
Pours out its passionate prayer;
And others: till the mighty vault shakes, throbbing
With a lost world's despair.

Beseeching, w.I.-.i.;,. agonizing, wailing,
Rings the heart broken cry!
The choir, far up, tumultuous assailing,
And storming heaven on high.

And then a blessed peace, like tranced waves dreaming
Along a summer shore,
And through the calm, celestial voices seeming:
That say, "Go, sin no more."

And still I hear that "miserere," ringing
Across the far-off years;
The woes and sorrows of all ages bringing;
Their agony and tears.












31
31











THOU ART LIKE A FLOWER.

BY HEINRICH HEINE.


S art even as a flower is,
So gentle and pure and fair;
I gaze on thee, and sadness
Comes over my heart unaware.

I feel as though I should lay, sweet,
My hands on thy head with a prayer
That God may keep thee always, sweet
As gentle and pure and fair.




WATER- LILIES.

ANONYMOUS.


DOWN in the densest shade
That matted boughs have made,
The lilies float upon the reedy stream;
Amid the deepest gloom
They show their pearly bloom,
Lighting the darkness with a silver gleam.

No other light is seen,
No sun-shaft bright and keen
Now breaks the shadow of these silent bowers;
A dim mysterious place,
Its only touch of grace
Is the white glory of its stainless flowers.

32











THOU ART LIKE A FLOWER.

BY HEINRICH HEINE.


S art even as a flower is,
So gentle and pure and fair;
I gaze on thee, and sadness
Comes over my heart unaware.

I feel as though I should lay, sweet,
My hands on thy head with a prayer
That God may keep thee always, sweet
As gentle and pure and fair.




WATER- LILIES.

ANONYMOUS.


DOWN in the densest shade
That matted boughs have made,
The lilies float upon the reedy stream;
Amid the deepest gloom
They show their pearly bloom,
Lighting the darkness with a silver gleam.

No other light is seen,
No sun-shaft bright and keen
Now breaks the shadow of these silent bowers;
A dim mysterious place,
Its only touch of grace
Is the white glory of its stainless flowers.

32










Oh, ye who come and dream
Beside the gliding stream,
Bringing your maiden beauty to the spot,
God made you fair and bright
That ye might be the light
Of life's dark places where the sun shines not.

Tender and sweet and pure,
Your patient souls endure
The darkness, sad and still, of sunless hours;
Earth's dreary shades ye bless
With your white loveliness,
God's gracious light-bearers, life's human flowers!









33


4.
-- t r '


'Lb .. VI.

















33











SLEEP.


BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.


all the thoughts of God that are
_Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist's music deep,
Now tell me if there any is,
For gift or grace surpassing this-
"He giveth His beloved sleep"?


What would we give to our beloved?
The hero's heart, to be unmoved,
The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep,
The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse,
The monarch's crown to light the brows?-
He giveth His beloved sleep."


What do we give to our beloved?
A little faith all undisproved,
A little dust to overweep
And bitter memories to make
The whole earth blasted for our sake:
"He giveth His beloved sleep."


"Sleep soft, beloved!" we sometimes say,
But have no tune to charm away
Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep;
But never doleful dream again
Shall break the happy slumber when
"lHe giveth His beloved sleep."

34











THE MAIDEN'S CONFESSION.

BY ANN S. STEPHENS.

Ir: whispered that he loved me,
And like the trembling air
-. When dews are softly falling
S' And blossoms bend in prayer;
,. Those whispered words of passion
Broke up the tranquil rest,
-. -. Where my heart lay like a lily,
With the green leaves on its breast.

IlHe whispered that lie loved me,
S.-. But I said not yes nor no;
~~F-:or my limbs began to tremble,
^" ",* And my cheeks were in a glow.
i;: Then I felt him bending o'er me,
- g' .' And my lips were softly pressed,
As red rose leaves fall together,
.. When they fold themselves to rest.

-. Then lie left me, very softly,
i.,, As a shadow disappears,
.... '- To the tumult of my blushes,

f I _- To the heaven of my tears.
S, So I stole into my chamber,
S' '' Which was rich with starry gloom,
/ .- r And the breath of many roses
Went floating through the room.

Then I laid me down to slumber,
In the stillness of the night,

35










With the curtains brooding o'er,
So mysterious and white;
And there, in blissful weariness,
My trembling lips would part,
While my hands were tightly folded
O'er the beatings of my heart.

Then I felt the moonlight stealing-
Stealing softly toward my bed,
And its silvery wings unfolded
To the whispered words I said:
And it floated all around me,
And it trembled on the floor,
While I whispered "that lie loved me,
And would love me evermore!"

Thus I whispered to the moonbeams -
The night wind and the rose-
What I never breathe to mortal
When this full heart overflows;
For when feelings thrill our being
With thoughts above the earth,
Like prayers, we breathe them only
To things of heavenly birth.

When the morning sought iny casement,
And flung its roses through
The snowy cloud of curtains
Dashed in with waves of blue,
I folded up my happiness
And not a word I spoke,-
Had I silenced it at night time,
My o'ercharged heart had broke.

36













































1A V X All 7 [I K F[IA D H FB E &N (. %[?'
-- -
FETE 1 E






















BY THE ARNO.

BY FRANK LEE BENEDICT.

E sat by Arno's silvery stream,
That poet famed and I;
Like some pale maiden in a dream,
rThe moon stole up the ky.

lie pondered fancies sad or sweet,
While I sat mute beside,
And listened to the ripples beat
Like pulses in thile tide.

A chime of hells soft echoes woke



HI is thoughts surged into speech.

While pointing to a palace vast
Which towered in our sight,
Dark as a shadow from the past,
Across the summer night;

110 painted me in glowing words
lis brilghtest dream long o'er;

When hopes sprang up like mountain birds,
And soared as eagles soar.

39










He knew those chambers' faded gold,
Where minstrel knights had sung,
And tales of love from days of old
Their romance o'er them flung.

Three moons in turn had watched him there,
A hand within his own;
No face in heaven could be more fair,
Than that which on him shone.

That latest moon in darkness set,
That bright dream with it. fled;
"To others blame, to us regret,"
His stern lips coldly said.

Fate's recompense to both the same-
Instead of love, renown;
For her a royal state and name,
For him the poet's crown.






TRUST.



lIA would be God's, must trust, not see;
- Nor murmur, fear, demand,
Must wholly by Him guided be,
Led by His loving hand;
Must turn where'er he points, nor say,
"I wonder where He leads the way."

40

















f .-
11 ---- '---
. ,.- ....






"j I '" '' ii Ri j .. little flower,
S. e glad of rain;
S I Too much sun would wither thee -
,i 'Twill shine again.
-a The clouds are very black, 'tis true,
-i But just behind them shines the blue.
'' Art thou weary, tender heart,
''' Be glad of pain!
i In sorrow sweetest things will grow,
"- "' Like flowers in rain;
j t God watches, and thou wilt have sun
Si /' When clouds their perfect work have done.


H ,. ,A .*4



is- I i"-
-\. l -. -- .^'4

-.-. _'-L) '^ "-4




41
























HE SELFISH PANSIES.
At the aiden fair wit. L ,ruthless hand, -









Who bears them away from Fairy land.
No more wink they at the '"oon's bold rays,
To sweet wood violets under the moss.
.Strange as the power that sei.ed to dwell,_


rHE SELFISH PANSIES.


.) ,A HBY PKABI, EYTIN(nE.

/ TI AINT' little fages, and(l lneelr little (eyes,
9 Lookingi witlh fear anti va;ue surprise,
An At te maiden fair with rtlnness h alld,
Who hears them away front Fairy land.

No m lre wi nk they at the moon's bold rays,
Never more yield to the wind's wild ways,
WavBing grasses whisper their loss,
To sweet wooa violets under the moss.

StragWoe was the power that seemed to dwell,
Alone with thle pansies down in thle aell,
Lowly and modest to all they seem,
Of pride and vanity none would dream.

Bliut a talkative bee saw fit to come,
Buzxzing about with Is gossipy hum;
lie said, each pansy held an elf,
Who kept his hoard of sweets to himself,

42










Who know of stores of honey and dew,
Which was the purest breeze that blew,
Where the sunlight shone the best,
When it was sure to sink to rest.

So, you see, the news of flower land,
These clever pansies had at hand,
And, yet, not one had e'er been heard,
To send a whispering warning word,

To a sister blossom, Danger is near,
Take care of your leaves, the storm is here."
But hid its own sweet head from the rain,
And, when 'twas over, came out again.

And, thus it chanced on a day in June,
A maiden, singing an old love tune,
Went wandering through the silent wood
And by the purple pansies stood.

They looked at her with pleading eyes,
As, with a cry of glad surprise,
She plucked each 11.. from its bed,
And twined it round her bonnie head.

The crimson rose, and lilies fair,
Still bud and bloom in beauty rare,
The maid is wooed and won and wed,
The pansies are forgot and dead.







43











THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.


SIY ELIZABETHI STIUALT PIELPS.


T chanceth once to every soul
Within a narrow hour of doubt and dole
Upon Life's Bridge of Sighs to stand,
"A palace and a prison on each hand."
0, palace of the rose-heart's hue
How like a flower the warm light falls from yon!
0, prison with the hollow eyes,
Beneath your stony walls no flowers arise !
O, palace of the rose-sweet sin,
How safe the heart that doth not enter in!
0, blessed prison walls! how true
The freedom of the soul that chooseth you!




SEPTEMBER.


BY HELEN HUNT.


4 .--I HE golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruits are bending down.

The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

44











THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.


SIY ELIZABETHI STIUALT PIELPS.


T chanceth once to every soul
Within a narrow hour of doubt and dole
Upon Life's Bridge of Sighs to stand,
"A palace and a prison on each hand."
0, palace of the rose-heart's hue
How like a flower the warm light falls from yon!
0, prison with the hollow eyes,
Beneath your stony walls no flowers arise !
O, palace of the rose-sweet sin,
How safe the heart that doth not enter in!
0, blessed prison walls! how true
The freedom of the soul that chooseth you!




SEPTEMBER.


BY HELEN HUNT.


4 .--I HE golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruits are bending down.

The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

44










From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With sunmer's best of weather
And autumn's best of cheer.

But none of all this beauty i
Which floods the earth and air
Is unto me the secret |
Which makes September fair. \
i* '
'T is a thing w h,. 1 I ..1 i.. ,1.., i
T o Inane it t i ill 1n I. ,..'
One day of one .' I--iii..I i
I never can t..'. I















45
I .t.. ,,




.. '- "
<; I J r*


r- | *(l- ^ .... '- ,".

/ ^ ? 1 l '" '1 + +




45













THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR.
(Fro,, the French of Victor IH go.)


BY CHARLES ALGERNON SWINBURNE.


- lAKE heed of this small child of earth;
lfe is great; lie ath in him God most high,
Children before their fleshly birth
Are lights alive in the blue sky.


In our light, bitter world of wrong
They come; God gives us them awhile.
His speech is in their stammering tongue,
And His forgiveness in their smile,


Their sweet light rests upon our eyes.
Alas! their right to joy is plain.
If they are thirsty, Paradise
Weeps, and if hungry Heaven thrills with pain.


The want that saps their sinless :1. ...r
Speaks judgment on sin's ministers.
Man holds an angel in his power.
Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs


When God seeks out these tender things
Whom in the shadow where we sleep
IHe sends us clothed about with wings,
And finds them r,.,-,:.1 babes that weep.


46
































































I i-l--













Two LOVE LETTERS.

BY W. L. FALCONER.

Y Love, when you and I were young,
I wrote a letter, and you said
Your heart leaped in you as you read,
With such mad rhythm was it strung.

This is my second lover's vow,
And in it throbs a quicker truth,
Tho' not the music of our youth;
I only write-"I love you"-now.

In spite of all these spectral days,
That troop with sad accusing eyes
To pierce my poor love where it lies-
I love you! When your tender gaze

Met coldness in my own, and when
I checked your laughter with a frown,
And when I laughed your weeping down,
My Love, My Love, I loved you then!

The world had filled mny heart with gall;
I held it to your thirsting lip;
And lightly let your warm hands slip
From mine--I loved you, with it all!

Alh! such, then, is a passion's life!
And now--this little paper's fold
To shut within your dead palm's hold-
To tell you that I love you, Wife I

49











MIDSUMMER.


BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE.


round this lovely valley rise
The purple hills of Paradise.
O, softly on yon banks of haze
Her rosy face the Summer lays!
Becalmed along the azure sky,
The argosies of Cloudland lie,
Whose shores, with many a shining rift,
Far off their pearl-white peaks uplift.

Through all the long midsummer day
The meadow-sides are sweet with hay.
I seek the coolest sheltered seat,
Just where the field and forest meet,--
Where grow the pine-trees tall and bland,
The ancient oaks austere and grand,
And fringy roots and pebbles fret
The ripples of the rivulet.

I watch the mowers, as they go
Through the tall grass, a white-sleeved row.
With even stroke their scythes they swing,
In tune their merry whetstones ring.
Behind, the nimble youngsters run,
And toss the thick swaths in the sun.
The cattle graze, while, warm and still,
Slopes the broad pasture, basks the hill,
And bright, where summer breezes break,
The green wheat crinkles like a lake.

50









Sweet woodland music sinks and swells,
The brooklet rings its tinkling bells,
The swarming insects drone and hum,
The partridge beats his throbbing drum.
The squirrel leaps among the boughs,
And chatters in his leafy house,
The oriole flashes by; and, look
Into the mirror of the brook,
Where the vain bluebird trims his coat,
Two tiny feathers fall and float.

As silently, as tenderly,
The down of peace descends on me.
O, this is peace! I have no need
Of friend to talk, of book to read:
A dear Companion here abides;
Close to my thrilling heart He hides;
The holy silence is His voice:
I lie and listen, and rejoice.




5A
4.. % -o














51











H ESPERIDES.


. 13 BY BELLE BREMER.

E read of a marvelous island fair,
SA charming story and quaintly told,
And a wonderful garden lying there,
Whose trees bear apples of yellow gold.
It is said if you sail o'er the shining seas
Steadily on to the glowing west,
You will surely come, with favoring breeze
Sometime, to the beautiful island blest.

But the eye of mortal has never seen
The far famed isle of the western seas,
With its garden bright in the flashing sheen
Of golden fruit on the magic trees:
You may gaze, and gaze, when the cloudlands pile
The sunset gold, till your eyes are dim,
You never will sight the Hesper isles,
Though you sail to the ocean's furthest rim.

There's a wider sea in its ebb and flow,
And ever its pulsing waves are curled
Round ships that sail and the ships below-
The Sea of Life and it laps the world; -
And bright as a gem, in this circling sea,
On a happy isle, neath tropic skies,
Where the crimson current is swift and free,
A garden of golden fruitage lies.

But once, in sailing the wide sea o'er,
We sight this beautiful wonder-land-

52










The garden of Youth, with its golden store;
Once only our feet will touch the strand
Where the rosiest curtains ever drape
The windows of Day with a shining mist
And the bloom is still on the purple grape,-
The blush on the peach the sun-god kissed.

But one brief day in the garden is ours,
To have and hold till the sun goes down;
To eat of the fruit and pluck the flowers,
And gather the clustering nuts of brown:
And the hours go by on winged feet;
And never were hours so dear as these,
Where the golden fruit that we pluck and eat
Is sweet as honey from Hybla's bees.

But the sun slips over the western wall,
The gold fades out of the twilight sky,
The evening shadows begin to fall;
Our day is now with the things gone by;
And our boat is ready to sail, alas!
For down by the shore the boatman calls,
And so, with lingering steps we pass
Outside the garden's enchanted walls.













53











YEAR AFTER YEAR.

BY DINAH MULOCK CRAIK.

EAR after year the cowslips fill the meadow,
Year after year the skylarks thrill the air,
Year after year, in sunshine or in shadow,
Rolls the world round, love, and finds us as we were.
Year after year, as sure as birds returning,
Or field flowers blossoming above the wintry mould,
Year after year, in work or mirth or mourning,
Love we with Love's own youlh, that never can grow old.
Sweetheart and lady-love, queen of boyish passion,
Strong hope of manhood, content of age begun,
Loved in a hundred ways, each in a different fashion,
Yet loved supremely, solely, as we never love but one.

-----1


ON THE TERRACE.

BY GLEESON WHITE.

BY a manor house, well builded in the days of good Queen Bess,
Stands, upon its river terrace, Lady Betty in distress;

Lonely, in that old Dutch garden, with its avenues of box,
Tall white lilies, sweet carnations, and its stately hollyhocks,

Here she waits, despised, forsaken; never will she sue for pardon-
His the fault, and his alone (Ah! the serpent's in this garden).

Shall she meekly bow to tyrant-she his newly dowered bride?
Nay, come death, come dire disaster, ere she yields her proper pride.

54











YEAR AFTER YEAR.

BY DINAH MULOCK CRAIK.

EAR after year the cowslips fill the meadow,
Year after year the skylarks thrill the air,
Year after year, in sunshine or in shadow,
Rolls the world round, love, and finds us as we were.
Year after year, as sure as birds returning,
Or field flowers blossoming above the wintry mould,
Year after year, in work or mirth or mourning,
Love we with Love's own youlh, that never can grow old.
Sweetheart and lady-love, queen of boyish passion,
Strong hope of manhood, content of age begun,
Loved in a hundred ways, each in a different fashion,
Yet loved supremely, solely, as we never love but one.

-----1


ON THE TERRACE.

BY GLEESON WHITE.

BY a manor house, well builded in the days of good Queen Bess,
Stands, upon its river terrace, Lady Betty in distress;

Lonely, in that old Dutch garden, with its avenues of box,
Tall white lilies, sweet carnations, and its stately hollyhocks,

Here she waits, despised, forsaken; never will she sue for pardon-
His the fault, and his alone (Ah! the serpent's in this garden).

Shall she meekly bow to tyrant-she his newly dowered bride?
Nay, come death, come dire disaster, ere she yields her proper pride.

54










So she idly gazes seaward, toying with her folded fan,
Pouting, scheming. "Oh, how weary is this world's disordered plan!"

Everything has Lady Betty, but the peace that knows content;
Seeking it in modish dresses, ever but on pleasure bent.

Losing it, may be for ever, in this day of royal June,
Letting fancies wring her spirit, throwing all things out of tune.

Up, my Lady Betty, quickly, lest you tempt too long your fate;
Playing anger often changes to a real and bitter hate.

Happiness is love and duty, else discordance fierce and strong;
Proverbs trite hold pointed morals, "Edged tools cut if played with long."

"Bear and forbear," since forgiveness is the attribute of power,
Winning love, while pride pays dearly for its tiny conquering hour.























55











THROUGH A WINDOW.

BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.


LIE here at rest in my chamber,
And look through the window again,
SWith eyes that are changed since the old time,
And the sting of an exquisite pain.

'Tis not much that I see for a picture,
Through boughs that are green with spring---
A barn with its roof gray and mossy,
And above it a bird on the wing.

All! once the roof was a prison,
My mind and the sky were free,
My thoughts with the birds went flying,
And my hopes were a heaven to me.

Now I come from the limitless distance
Where I followed my youth's wild will,
Where they press the wine of delusion
That you drink and are thirsty still;

And I know' why the bird with the spring-time
To the gnarled old tree comes back-
He has tried the South and the summer,
He has felt what the sweet things lack.

So I come with a sad contentment,
With eyes that are changed I see;
The roof means peace, not a prison,
And Heaven smiles down on me.

56













































illT I ~ l
1j'.11
;r
I ."









A II














THE CRY OF THE DREAMER.


BY JOHN B. O'REILLY.


SAM tired of planning and toiling
In the crowded hives of men;
Heart weary of building and spoiling,
And spoiling and building again.
And I long for the dear old river,
Where I dreamed my youth away;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.


I am sick of the showy seeming,
Of a life that is half a lie;
Of the faces lined with scheming
In the throng that hurries by.
From the sleepless thoughts' endeavor,
I would go where the children play;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.


No, no! from the street's rude bustle,
From trophies of mart and stage,
I would fly to the wood's low rustle,
And the meadow's kindly page.
Let me dream as of old by the river,
And be loved for the dream always;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.

59


























BY MINNA IRVING.

N an orchard, with the sunbeams
L Long and slender, slipping through
Ancient branches blossom-laden,
Pink and pearl against the blue,
With a youth of wondrous beauty,
Eyes of blue, and locks of light,
And a brow of Saxon fairness,
In my dreams I walked one night.

Low the flowery boughs above us
Bent, and all the air was sweet,
And a light wind sent the petals
Floating softly to our feet.
Every dewdrop was a diamond,
And a thousand to a spray,
For the time was in the morning,
And the year was in the May.

As we walked, within the hollow
Of a rock we found a pool,

60










Graceful branches drooping o'er it
Kept its quiet waters cool.
Smooth and silv'ry like a mirror,
Crystal-clear as April rain.
"This," he murmured, "is the fountain
"That De Leon sought in vain."

Then beneath the flowery arches
Came a round and rosy boy,
With a quiver full of lilies,
Singing clear as if for joy.
As he passed he dropped a lily
From his glowing finger-tips:
"It is Love," he said, and turning
Touched my forehead with his lips.

Upward soared a lark to Heaven
With the angels to rejoice;
Back between the banks of blossoms
Came the sound of Love's sweet voice.
Some new passion filled and thrilled us,
Lips and hearts were nearer drawn,
Then I woke, to find the winter,
And the dull and dreary dawn.

Gone the dew-bespangled branches,
Gone, alas! the fount of youth-
Lark and lilies, Love and lover,
All an airy dream in truth.
But I watched the cold rain falling
From the gray and sunless skies,
And I sighed for tender gladness,
And the blue of love-lit eyes.

61










Many a gallant comes to woo me.
Empty words their pleadings seem,
Not a one is fair and noble
As the lover of my dream!
And I know that somewhere under
Skies that snow,' or suns that shine,
Near or far, he has his being,
And his spirit yearns for mine.

It may be alas! that never
Here on earth our paths will meet,
Love will never leave a lily
From his quiver at my feet,
But beyond the Vale of Shadows,
And beyond the Crystal Gate,
In the morning, in the May-time,
I will find my spirit's mate!

I will know him by his graces,
And the glory of his hair;
I will drink at youth's bright fountain,
And like him be more than fair.
We will walk the dewy orchard,
We will hear the seraphs sing,
Under flowers that fade not ever,
In a long immortal spring!










62











OH, FOR A SWING IN THE OLD ELM TREE.

BY ELIZABETH A. DAVIS.

for a swing in the old elm tree
And a breath from the clover fields!
I'd give the state of a palace hall
And the spices that India yields.

To lie once more in the thick soft grass
With the sweet winds brushing by,
The world outside and a heart at peace,
And above the summer sky;

To watch the clouds in their shifting lights
And the mists on the distant hills,
And dream to the music of rustling leaves
And the voices of dancing rills;

To kneel again in the little church
Where I prayed with a childish trust
Ere the haunting doubts of a later time
Had touched it with moth and rust;

To sleep once more neathh the moss-grown roof:
My spirit would find again
The long-lost chord of that happy time
And take up the glad refrain.

My heart grows sick and my eyes are dim
For a sight of familiar things;
The grassy nook and the old elm tree
Would be more than the throne of kings.

63











THE END.

ANONYMOUS.

Hi E course of the weariest river
Ends in the great gray sea;
The acorn, for ever and ever,
Strives upward to the tree.

The rainbow, the sky adorning,
Shines promise through the storm;
The glimmer of coming morning
Through midnight gloom will form.

By time all knots are riven,
Complex although they be,
And peace will at last be given,
Dear, both to you and to me.

Then, though the path may be dreary,
Look onward to the goal;
Though the heart and the head be weary,
Let faith inspire the soul.

Seek the right, though the wrong be tempting,
Speak truth at any cost;
Vain is all weak exempting,
When once the gem is lost.

Let strong hand and keen eye be ready
For plain and ambushed foes;
Thought earnest and fancy steady,
Bear best unto the close.

64









The heavy clouds may be raining,
But with evening comes the light;
Through the dark low winds ..,nI.1 .Ii!,-l .
Yet the sunrise gilds the height;

And Love has his hidden treasure
For the patient and the pure;
And Time gives his fullest measure
To the workers who endure;

And the Word that no law has shaken
Has the future pledge supplied;
For we know that when we awaken
We shall be satisfied.













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