love,
Has, like bread on the waters, been thrown.
So the twilight comes—and the fire burns low—
And the day is ebbing fast—
Soon the merry chimes and the hallowed rhymes
Will be numbered with the Past.
But with hopeful eyes I’ll scan the skies,
Perchance, ere next Christmas-tide,
Will my children come to their own dear home,
And their place at mother’s side.
Dedicated to the Right Rev’d D. A. Payne
Oh! surely ’tis a theme sublime
That stirs my soul to-day;
Awake then, muse nor slumber more,
Till sung the wondrous lay.
My song shall be of one, whose youth
And strength were freely given
To elevate, instruct, and lead
Benighted souls to heaven.
My song shall be of him, whose hand
A mother’s taste did mould;
Whose precepts noble were to her
As apples of pure gold.
I’ll tell of one whose virtues rare
In modesty enshrined;
Who bears a lasting laurel wreath
About his brow entwined.
Who in the days that tried men’s souls
Did ne’er from duty quail,
But wrought on ensign, lifted high,
There’s no such word as fail!
Mem’ries so sweet are hov’ring round,
That I, with Psalmist, say
“O! had I wings like turtle dove,
Quickly I’d fly away!”
Away, away beyond the hills
Where blooms the tree of life,
Where limpid streams whose silent flow,
Ne’er stir the sea of strife.
Oh! Bishop, Pastor, Friend, may’st thou
To green old age be spared;
Then, like a fully ripened ear
Go to thy rich reward.
October
Bright and beautiful art thou,
Autumn flowers crown thy brow,
Golden-rod and Aster blue,
Russet leaf with crimson hue.
Half stripped branches waving by,
Softly as a lullaby,
Tell of summer’s days gone by,
Tell that winter’s very nigh.
In the forest cool and chill,
Sadly moans the Whippoorwill,
Not as in the summer days,
When he gloried in his lays,
Lower-toned, but sweet and clear,
Like thy crisp and fragrant air,
Warbling forth with voice sublime,
This is nature’s harvest time.
Crickets chirp amid the leaves,
Squirrels hop among the trees,
Brown nuts falling thick and fast,
On the dewy, dying grass,
Glowing sun with softer rays,
Harbinger of wintry days,
Tell the year is going by,
Sighing forth its lullaby.
The Dying Girl
Sister darling, ope the window, let the balmy air once more
Fan my flushed and throbbing brow as in the happy days of yore;
I would gaze again in rapture on the brightly setting sun
For I know, my gentle sister, that the goal is almost won.
See the crimson clouds are hov’ring round the glorious orb of day,
And the far-off hills are basking in its golden, garnished ray:
Listen to yon forest warbler hymning sweet and joyous lay,
Chanting forth its evening vespers to the sinking god of day.
But sister, time is waning, after all it doth but seem
That life is but a toilsome march, a weariness, a dream;
And yet I do not murmur, for if all the joys of earth
Had not faded from my vision ere they ripened into birth,
If the shadows had not thickened as they clustered round my brow,
Had I not turned from the altar, where I worshipped long ago,
Perchance I might have reveled full too deep in human love,
And forgotten God, my Maker, and my happy home above.
So ’tis well, and now I’m going to join that spirit band,
With their never-ceasing music, making glad that starry land;
And I’m glad too, for I’m weary, and would rest me from my woe—
Fain would land my stricken spirit on the banks of “Evermore.”
And O! my dearly loved one, when sorrows round thee press,
Hurling each deadly missile on thy pure and youthful breast—
Then think upon thy dear one, O! may ne’er thy footsteps rove!
But meet me, surely meet me, in that happy home above.
Night’s shades hung o’er the valleys and obscured the forest green—
’Twas o’er; that happy spirit had been robed in spotless sheen,
So they laid her ’mong the flowers, and the zephyr’s tuneful play
Resounds a woodland requiem at the sunset of each day.
Alaska
With thy rugged, ice-girt shore,
Draped in everlasting snow,
Thou’rt enthroned a queen.
Crown of moss and lichen grey,
Frosted o’er with ocean spray,
All thy long, long wintry day,
Dark and stern thy mien.
From the cloudland fresh and fair,
Falls the snow through crispy air,
Mantling vale and hill.
Then old “Borealis” glows,
With his fiery light that shows,
Frozen nature in repose,
River, stream and rill.
On thy north the Polar Sea
Thunders forth in wild melee,
’Mid gorges dark and steep
Full many a ship with noble crew,
Lies low beneath thy waters blue,
Nor left behind a single clue,
But sleep a dreamless sleep.
Beside the far famed Yukon stands
Hundreds of men from distant lands,
All with the same desire
Gold, gold’s the watchword, yellow ore,
That tempts him from his homestead door,
And Oh! alas he nevermore
May sit by household fire.
Ah! if men would only toil,
Dig and delve their own rich soil,
With vigor and with vim;
Forth would spring the golden corn,
Loud would ring the harvest song,
Life and health they would prolong,
All through nature’s prime.
Under his own, his fruitful vine,
Beneath his laden fig tree green,
He, like a king, would reign.
Bending low with purple yield,
Rivalling fair Eschkol’s fields,
He’d a potent influence wield,
With his corn and wine.
On Parting with a Friend
Can I forget thee? No, while mem’ry lasts,
Thine image like a talisman entwined,
Around my heart by sacred friendship’s ties
Remains unchanged, in love, pure love, enshrined.
Can I forget thee? Childhood’s happy hours
Would like some flitting phantom mock and jeer;
Life’s sunny hours, would quickly lose their charm,
If Lethe’s slumbrous waves but touched me there.
Can I forget thee? ’Tis a sad, sad thought,
That friend from friend should thus be ruthless riven—
But list, methinks, a sweet voice whispers low,
Remember, no adieus are spoke in heaven.
Can I forget thee? No, though ocean’s waves
May madly leap and foam ’twixt you and me,
Still o’er my stricken heart this yearning will remain,
Nor time estrange my love, dear one, from thee.
And though on earth again we never more may meet,
In that bright Elysian where spirits, holy, dwell,
May we in concert with that transported throng,
Unite, ne’er more (rapt thought) to say “farewell!”
Twilight Musing
I’m sitting by the hearthstone now,
And my heart is lone and
