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diff --git a/14953.txt b/14953.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9dfc8e --- /dev/null +++ b/14953.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3616 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Oklahoma and Other Poems, by Freeman E. Miller + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Oklahoma and Other Poems + +Author: Freeman E. Miller + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OKLAHOMA AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: (Freeman E. Miller.)] + +OKLAHOMA + +AND + +OTHER POEMS + +BY + +FREEMAN E. MILLER, A.M., + + +PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN THE + +AGRICULTURAL AND MECHANICAL COLLEGE OF + +OKLAHOMA TERRITORY. + + +BUFFALO + +CHARLES WELLS MOULTON + +1895 + + * * * * * + + +COPYRIGHT, 1895, + +BY FREEMAN E. MILLER, A.M. + + +PRINTED BY + +CHARLES WELLS MOULTON, + +BUFFALO, N.Y. + + * * * * * + + + + +_TO_ + +_JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY,_ + +_IN AFFECTIONATE_ + +_MEMORY OF OTHER DAYS._ + + _Our dearest joys forever flow_ + _From fountains of the Long Ago,_ + _That from the heights of pleasures past_ + _Flood all the present valleys vast,_ + _And with eternal glees provide_ + _The future's endless ocean tide._ + + * * * * * + + + + + _To ope each cage where a heartless age_ + _Hath chained the birds of singing,_ + _Till Love's own glee that is fond and free_ + _Shall laugh where they are winging,--_ + _Such is my wish. 'Tis true, hold I,_ + _That songs, like birds, in bondage die._ + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + OKLAHOMA 9 + THE RACE FOR HOMES 15 + AT PERRY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1893 19 + "SING ME A SONG, O WIND." 21 + A CHRISTMAS CAROL 24 + YEARS THAT ARE TO BE 26 + IF WE DON'T OR IF WE DO 28 + DEAR SONGS OF MY COUNTRY 30 + JULY FOURTH 33 + "O, GENTLE SHADES OF QUIET WOODS." 35 + LOVE 37 + WINTERS ON THE FARM 39 + "O, WEAK AND WEARY WORLD." 41 + EX ANIMA 43 + "LO, ALL THE AGE IS RANK WITH WRONG." 45 + "LOVE, THOU GAYEST FANCY-WEAVER." 47 + THE FARMER 49 + "NATURE HAS A THOUSAND CHOIRS." 51 + THE WORKINGMAN 53 + GIVING AND FORGIVING 55 + "O, SACRED SOULS THAT GRANDLY SING." 57 + CHRISTMAS TIME 59 + TRUEST HEROES ARE UNKNOWN 61 + IF WE BUT KNEW 62 + HOPE 64 + DESPONDENCY 66 + IF LOVE WERE KING 68 + "SING ME THE OLD SONGS, MOTHER." 69 + TWO LIVES 71 + "AWAY, AWAY, FROM THE SULTRY WAYS." 72 + SPINSTERHOOD 74 + "SWEET FAIRIES FROM THE ISLES OF SONG." 75 + STANZAS 77 + "MAKE THE MOST OF THIS LIFE." 78 + "THE SONGS THAT MOTHER USED TO SING." 80 + "QUAFF THE GLASS, THE WINE IS RED." 81 + GOOD-NIGHT 83 + LIVE LIFE WITH LOVE 84 + DISCONTENT 86 + STANZAS 87 + THE WAY OF THE WORLD 89 + MY SHADOW AND I 90 + IN THE VALES 91 + THE WILLOW 92 + AT THE MILL 94 + SHADOW AND SHINE 95 + THE GROWTH OF SONG 96 + SPRING AND MUSIC 97 + COMPENSATION 98 + MY MOLLIE, O 100 + SING NOT OF BEAUTY 101 + AT EVENTIDE 102 + WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES 103 + WHEN THOU ART NEAR 104 + HE SLEEPS AT LAST 105 + WHEN FORTUNES FROWN 106 + WHEN WE SHALL MEET 107 + SWEET EYES OF BLUE 108 + HAD WE NOT MET 109 + A SONNET 110 + OKLAHOMA.--A SONNET 111 + ESTRANGED 112 + RECONCILED 113 + THE DYING HERO 114 + SONNET 115 + GREATNESS LIVES APART 116 + POEMS 117 + SINGER AND SONG 118 + TO ONE WHO PLEDGED HER FRIENDSHIP 119 + THE BANKS O' TURKEY RUN 119 + + + + +OKLAHOMA. + + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Land, O, land of the Fair God, + Land where ancient, savage races + Through barbarian ages trod! + Through thy story fancy traces + Facts above what fictions say, + Where the world with haste advances,-- + Born are nations in a day! + Where the wigwam stood so lonely, + Lordly cities rise in might; + Where spread desert wildness only, + Fertile farms and homes delight. + Thou hast summoned to thy bosom + From the ends of all the earth, + All the youngest, strongest, bravest, + Full of will and wondrous worth. + O'er thy valleys grow the blossoms + Culled from earth's remotest sod; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Land, O, Land of the Fair God! + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + There is music in thy name. + There is gladness in thy glory, + There is fondness in thy fame! + In the wonders of thy story + Shines the sheen of noble deed, + Brighter than the glare of battle + Where the warriors toil and bleed; + Ruling with immortal forces, + There is found the king of might, + Over all thy great resources + By the strength of truth and right. + With thy happy sons and daughters, + Live the virtues fair and pure, + And the better angels guiding + Keep their hearts and souls secure. + There are treasures in thy valleys, + There are treasures in thy hills; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + How thy name my bosom thrills! + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Child of law and liberty, + Thou art always true and tender, + Thou art ever dear to me! + I will always praises render + To the grandeur of thy worth, + For the fortunes all presided + At the moment of thy birth. + Pleasures in their pure completeness + O'er thy pleasant prairies shine, + And the raptures run with fleetness + Through the happy vales of thine. + Thou art empress of the angels, + Thou art queen of all the gods, + And the happiness of heaven + O'er thy laughing valleys nods. + I will always crown with praises + All thy glories, O, my state; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Thou art greatest of the great! + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Bravest are thy noble sons, + In the thunders of the battle, + And the roaring of the guns! + Flash of sword and musket's rattle + Never fearful terror gave + To the staunch and valiant bosoms + Of thy happy hosts and brave. + When the roars of hell grow louder, + And the mountains shake in fright, + In the lurid clouds of powder, + They are foremost in the fight; + And when bayonet and musket, + Sword and saber, slaughter cease, + They are tenderest and truest + In the silent ways of peace. + O, my state! A stream of greatness + From thy mighty people runs; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Bravest are thy noble sons! + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Fairest are thy daughters fair, + In the thousand deeds of duty + Thou hast given them to bear; + Peerless is their wondrous beauty, + Bright with blushes as the rose, + Pure as petals of the lily, + White as newly-fallen snows; + And their voices bright with blessing + Banish misery and woe, + While their fingers' soft caressing + Soothes the fevers from the brow. + Souls are always blessed with brightness + Bosoms filled with goodly pearls, + Hearts forever harvest gladness, + In the glances of thy girls. + They are robed in golden garments, + Nature's vestments, rich and rare; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Fairest are thy daughters fair! + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Sweetest are thy happy homes, + Smiling in the holy gladness + Which above thee always roams; + They are never linked with sadness, + They are never bound with pains, + For the sunshine of enjoyment + Rules the people of thy plains. + Songs are singing with thy maidens, + Music echoes with thy wives, + Rapture slays the grief that ladens + All the gladness of their lives. + Happiness is with thy husbands, + And thy swains are blest with joy, + While the fondest rapture rises + In the hearts of girl and boy. + Pleasures linger in thy woodlands, + Gladness on thy prairies roams; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Sweetest are thy happy homes! + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Thou shall ever live in song; + Freedom, near to nature, raises + Temples that to thee belong; + Minstrels shall in merry praises + Wind their music o'er thy name + Till the voices of the ages + Shout for thee in wild acclaim; + They shall sing with tender pleasure + Beauty of thy daughters true; + Sing, in high, exultant measure, + Deeds thy sons in battle do. + Sages shall in wisdom offer + Full rewards of love to thee, + And shall crown thy land and people + Favorites of liberty. + All thy glory shall be shining + Through the cycles clear and strong; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Though shall ever live in song! + + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Romance of the ages, thou! + Now, unknown; a moment later. + Kingly crowns upon thy brow! + Child of all the nations, greater + Shall thy splendors year by year + Grow unfading, bringing bounties + Full of happiness and cheer! + Morning saw a desert sleeping, + Worn and wasted with distress; + Night beheld an empire keeping + Watch above the wilderness. + Progress with her wand of magic + Touched the sleeping valleys bright, + And they leaped with instant vigor, + Shaking out their locks of might; + Earth shall send her fairest blossoms + As a garland for thy brow; + Oklahoma! Oklahoma! + Romance of the ages thou! + + + + +THE RACE FOR HOMES. + +APRIL 22, 1889. + + + Behold! As from the shades of night, + An army gathers full of might, + And strong with constant courage stands + 'Tween civilized and savage lands, + Where, vast in power, the legion waits + The turning of the desert gates, + That men of might may enter in + And progress all her glories win! + Lo, where these thousands make assail, + The barren ages all shall fail, + And swift advancement far be hurled, + O'er sleeping empires and the world! + + The morning hours haste hurried by; + Behold! The noon is drawing nigh! + The anxious host with careful eyes + Marks well each rapid hour that flies, + While hope, exulting, wildly rolls + The highest, such as filled the souls + Of Jason and his comrades bold, + Who sought the famous fleece of gold. + Upon the trampled grasses beat + Impatient steeds with restless feet; + The dins of harsh, discordant cries + Above the thrilling thousands rise; + Shrilly the scattered children call, + And soft the words of women fall, + While men with voices hushed and weak + Their low commands expectant speak; + Till suddenly a mighty cry, + A shout of warning, smites the sky: + + "Attention! Ho, + Attention here! + Attention! Lo, + The noon is near!" + O'er hill and brake + Resounds the warning cry; + The moment great is nigh; + The hosts awake; + Awake, to strive with mad delight, + Awake to win the friendly fight; + And from the camps anear and far, + Where nervous haste and hurry are, + Vast legions gather on the plain, + While chaos and confusion reign; + The neighing steed with quickened pace + Impatient seeks the vantage place; + The slower ox with lightened load + Stands waiting in the crowded road. + And wagon, buggy, carriage, cart, + Vehicles formed with rudest art, + All forward, forward, forward dart, + Swift-forming on the level ground + Where most advantage may be found. + + "Line up! Ho, there, + Line up, line up!" + The hurried order smites the air; + Above the silent prairies fair + Unseen progression holds her cup, + Filled to the brim with magic seeds + That harvests hold for human needs. + Excitement grows on beasts and men; + The saddle girths are tightened o'er, + The stirrups lengthened out once more, + And silence softly falls again; + Each bit and buckle, strap and band, + Is tested o'er with careful hand, + And man and beast in chosen place + Stand ready for the coming race; + + The circling sun + His morning race has fully run; + A waving hand + Signals above the brief command + That sight and sense will understand,-- + And open swings the desert land! + A shot! A hundred, thousand more + The grassy meadows echo o'er; + A shout! From countless throats a shout, + On rolling wings leaps madly out; + A yell, a raging roar, that flies + On bounding winds o'er hill and glen, + And 'round the land electrifies + A thousand living miles of men! + A mammoth stir, + A sudden dash, + Swift whip and spur + Together clash, + And wheels on wheels that totter crash! + They're off! They're off! + Away, away, + In mad array! + No stop nor stay! + The hurried charge they ride to-day + Would shame and scoff + The Tartar, Turk and Romanoff! + The race is on; + The host is gone; + The thronging legions madly ride + O'er hill and dale, + With hurried pace unsatisfied. + In fierce assail + Where none may fail; + And only phantoms dimly blent + Tell where the mounted armies went, + Like shifting shadows, faint and dim, + Or ghostly spectors, gaunt and grim, + Beyond the far horizon's rim! + Behold! Adown the valleys bright, + The last, lone straggler fades from sight, + And only hasty hoof-beats say + What thousands rode the race to-day; + What hosts, with hearts that build and bless, + Found homes amid the wilderness! + + + + +AT PERRY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1893. + + Crowds! Crowds! Crowds! + Suddenly here as if come from the clouds + That faded away as they came; + Mad acres of people aflame + With thirst for a morsel of land; + Wild hunters of fortune, whose game + Is ever escaping the hand; + Vast, countless, uncountable throngs + With restless, unrestable feet, + That hurry the ways, full of agonized wrongs, + For the conquest of happiness sweet; + Wild seas of ambition whose waves of desire + On their obstacles mighty continually beat, + Where neither the shore nor the ocean is fixed; + Like thunderous songs of a choir, + Whose murmurs in music repeat; + And confusion and chaos are terribly mingled and mixed. + + Dust! Dust! Dust! + Borne in the arms of the gathering gust, + And whirled on the wings of the wind, + The eyes feel the blight of the blind, + And horror comes into the heart; + For nature is far more unkind + Than the thousands that struggle apart. + Dark, wild, inescapable dust, + In fiercest, untamable clouds, + That men into misery helplessly thrust, + And bury in agony-shrouds; + A simoom of sorrow whose pestilent breath + To the strong and the weak, to the young and the old, + Brings despair that is reckless of possible gain, + And the awfullest anguish of death; + Till the soul in its rage uncontrolled, + Droops low in the horrible sickness and sorrow of pain. + + But out from the clouds, + Out from the agonized dust that enshrouds; + True kings shall arise who shall reign + In homes on the populous plain! + Great cities shall gather and grow + In glories that never shall wane, + Far over the valleys below. + With merry yet measureless might + They conquer the waste with the gladness that brings + To the desert the newest delight. + The barren shall bloom as the rose, and the land + That is sleeping, a wilderness wasted and wild, + And dreaming to welcome its master's command, + Shall leap at the touch of his hand, + His voice shall obey as a child! + + + + +"SING ME A SONG, O, WIND." + + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + Of musical cadence sweet, + Which in the wood around + Shall often and oft repeat; + Soft as an angel's song + That never can give annoy, + Which in the balmy notes + Shall tell me its tales of joy. + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + Of countries beyond the sea, + Which in thy wand'rings oft + Thou pass with a footstep free; + Lands that are ever green + 'Neath blaze of the tropic spells, + Bright with their blessed suns, + Where summer forever dwells. + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + Of groves with a verdure fair, + Waving their boughs of green + O'er solitudes grand and rare; + Groves with a stillness sweet, + With cheering and cooling shades, + Where from its cares the race + May rest in the leafy glades. + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + Of birds with a plumage gay, + That with their carols sweet + Give praise to the God of day; + Music of sad refrain, + Though fond in its tender chime, + Thou in thy travels wide + Hast heard in a fairy clime. + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + Of crystalline brooks at play, + Which with the murmurs low + Make sweetest of sounds all day; + Winding through meadows wide, + And blossoming fields between, + Fringed with the willows tall + On emerald banks of green. + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + Of flowers that are fond and fair, + Filling the fields of earth + With beauty and fragrance rare; + Wafting an incense pure + On every breeze that blows, + Drawn from the lily's heart + And soul of the royal rose. + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + Of man in his brightest homes; + Tell if he there meet joy, + Wherever his longing roams; + Tell if there's e'er a place + Where, all his ambition spent, + He toils throughout all his days + And knoweth no discontent. + + Sing me a song, O, Wind, + For I am a-weary now; + Life, with its woes and cares, + Hangs heavily on my brow; + Sing me a song of cheer, + My heart that is sad to ease; + Sing in thy brightness and joy + With heavenly harmonies! + + + + +A CHRISTMAS CAROL. + + The brazen bells of laughing lands + In swelling echoes wildly ring, + And over seas and hoary strands + This Christmas carol sing. + + + "Awaken, O, heart of the race, + To bountiful riches from Eden above, + Till roses of beauty and lilies of grace + Shall sweeten the languishing bosom with love; + Till virulent sorrow and venomous hate + Their poisonous curses of misery cease, + And rapturous fortune, felicitous fate, + Have rule in the musical meadows of peace. + + "The voices of morning to men, + In passionate whispers of bounteous glee, + Are pulsing the gladness of Christmas again + O'er plains of the prairie and sounds of the sea; + Rejoice and be happy, O, languishing soul, + In limitless treasures of marvelous cheer, + Till ravishing murmurs of lullabies roll + Through all of the sorrows that sadden the year! + + "Though summer has gone from the earth, + And silken embraces of velvety snow + Are folding the blossoms of beauty and worth + In wretched surroundings of wearisome woe; + Let innocent joys in their sweetness abound + And silvery cadence in melody start, + Till rapturous fortunes with pleasure surround + The aims of the soul and the hopes of the heart. + + "Let youth with its yearning engage + All vigorous passion that lives in the breast, + While tearful remembrance of tottering age + Finds halcyon harbors of comforting rest; + Let silver of years with the ardor of youth + Be going again through the temple of joy, + While palms of amusement and laurels of truth + Encircle the hearts of the maiden and boy. + + "Let happiness reign with the race; + There's never a reason for sorrowful tears, + Kriss Kringle has come with his fatherly face + To comfort complaining humanity's fears; + Let music go 'round and the beautiful smile + Bring gladsome delight to the bosom of bliss, + Till gentle enjoyments unbroken beguile + The souls of the sad with their coveted kiss. + + "Though crystalline frost on the trees, + Though ice on the river and snow on the plain + Are freezing the breath of the shivering breeze. + The heart has Nepenthe for all of its pain; + For Christmas is king, and his bountiful hand + Is giving its treasures to mountain and lea, + And gentleness rules on the billowy strand, + And reigns in the far-away isles of the sea." + + This is the carol that swells + Over the meadows and brakes, + From brazen throats of the pealing bells + When Christmas morning wakes. + + + + +YEARS THAT ARE TO BE. + + + Wild years that are to be + The sad completion of my weary life, + In ghostly mantles of despairing strife + Your phanton dimness darkly shadows me! + Gaunt demons dancing from your horrid halls + Entwine my soul in gloomy arms of woe, + While mystic fancies to my madness show + The monsters on your walls. + + Your forms are skeletons, + Whose bony hands with mortal fingers play, + Where grinning skulls are heaping on the way, + And airy specters meet the timid ones; + Death drops his arrows from your sullen skies, + Destruction dances in your noisome shades, + And in the dreadful darkness of your glades + The horrid shriekings rise. + + There in your cycles are + Dark valleys where my weary feet must go, + Though devils of disaster hurl and throw + Their awful sorrows from the fortunes far; + No hands of pleasure can presume to part + The clouded curtains of impending care, + And hissing serpents of insane despair + Pour poison in my heart. + + O, years that are to be, + Among your solitudes I, dreaming, grope; + My life's the shade of unaccomplished hope, + My heart's a ghoul that feeds on agony! + No strains of music call my tears away, + No smiling star illumes the awful night; + Ambition weeps; my soul draws without light + My shameless feet astray! + + No soothing welcome floats + Between your marble lips, nor sweetly rise + The tender songs of gentle melodies + From croaking caverns of your iron throats; + But from your dirges of destructive pain, + Wild clash of wretched sound is borne to me, + Where death and failure, tears and misery, + In robes or anguish reign. + + But my heart hopes to find + Some infant joy for woes that sorrow did, + Some faded garland on some coffin lid, + To cheer the wildness of my broken mind; + Some angel pleasures in your realms must roll, + Some laughing life, some music, in your glooms, + Shall gladness give, amid your ghostly tombs, + Mad Future, to my soul! + + + + +IF WE DON'T OR IF WE DO. + + + If we don't or if we do. + What's the odds to me and you? + Fame is e'er a heartless jade, + And her slaves are poorly paid; + Weary hearts and soul's distress + Are the prices of success; + All our stations sadness view,-- + If we don't or if we do. + + If we don't or if we do, + Our deservings will accrue; + We must pay the fullest price, + For each virtue and each vice, + And each life for every thing + Must an equal portion bring; + Justice shall our deeds review, + If we don't or if we do. + + If we don't or if we do, + Fortune to our worth is true; + Trophies that enshroud our clay, + Scarce are worth the price we pay; + Shame doth small endeavors share, + Fame and glory, toil and care; + Earth floats but an equal crew, + If we don't or if we do. + + If we don't or if we do, + What's the diff'rence 'tween the two, + When our souls have gone to God + And we sleep beneath the sod? + Kindred grasses wave and creep + Where the prince and pauper sleep; + We shall have our six-feet-two, + If we don't or if we do. + + If we don't or if we do, + We but dust and ashes brew; + Labor, trouble, toil and strife + Weave within each human life; + Sorrows cloud the younger years; + Age is bowed with cares and tears; + Accidents in fame are few,-- + If we don't or if we do. + + If we don't or if we do. + Fate to our deserts is true; + If we fail, or falter not, + Every life deserves his lot; + Every human, small or great, + Buys with current coin his fate; + What's the odds to me and you, + If we don't or if we do? + + + + +DEAR SONGS OF MY COUNTRY! + + + Dear songs of my country! How sweetly thy measures + Come stealthily stealing o'er mountain and wave, + To sweeten the riches of liberty's treasures + And thrill with their numbers the hearts of the brave! + To move in wild glory the souls of a nation, + Till men are together so happily hurled, + That millions are bound in fraternal relation + And brotherhoods rule in the ranks of the world. + + Such praises ye offer our heroes and sages, + So grand is the greatness that lives in thy strains, + That small is the fame of the far away ages, + So sunken in tyranny, fettered in chains. + For freedom ye strive and ye struggle for glory, + And Liberty--Liberty still is your theme-- + And glad are your lips with the national story, + Which warriors have written on forest and stream. + + Dear songs of my country! The soul patriotic + Ye fill with the wishes of mighty emprise, + Till conquers he tyranny harsh and despotic, + Or first in the front of the battle he dies. + Ye offer him laurels, ye crown him with praises, + Who falls in the fight with his face to the foe, + And gratitude over his sepulcher raises + The marbles eternal of national woe. + + Your strains are as high as the cloud-covered mountains, + As deep as the ocean, as wide as the land, + As pure as the murmurs of silvery fountains, + But loud as the roar on the billowy strand. + Our deep-furrowed prairies, our ship-laden rivers, + Our ax-ringing forests, our steam-shrieking bays, + Swell high in your music, for all are free givers + To freedom's true grandeur and liberty's praise. + + How fondly, dear songs of my country, ye cherish + The struggle heroic, the God-shapen deed, + That nothing of worthiness ever may perish + But live to the time of humanity's need! + Afar from the realms of the centuries olden, + Ye summon with gladness the glories of years, + To greet every hero with cadences golden, + And sing every sage that in greatness appears. + + The ages may falter thee, Land of my Birth, + The years may thy grandeur and glory betray; + But long as thy songs murmur over the earth, + No forces can carry thy splendors away! + Then live, ye dear songs of my country, forever, + With voices eternal to utter her name, + That cycles may never her liberty sever, + Nor trample her greatness nor crumble her fame! + + + + +JULY FOURTH. + + + Hail, glorious morning of Columbia's birth, + Celestial dawn of freedom! There shall be + In recognition of thy wondrous worth + By mighty millions this side of the sea, + Triumphant crowns of laurel wreathed for thee! + Welcome thy mammoth pageants, welcome all + The choral songs and melodies of glee, + The swelling shouts of praise that gladly fall + From mighty multitudes in anthems national! + + High hangs the sacred banner, and the stars + Dance in the sunshine, while the breezes play + Around the glory of the hallowed bars + Gleaming in white and crimson; music gay + Floats from the patriot host and cheers array + Great shouts around its foldings. Long in state, + Flag of the brave and free, wave o'er this day + To bring the world rejoicings which await + The natal hours of might, the day we celebrate! + + How fears the tyrant in his capital, + As myriad wires throb with the nation's tale! + How despot trembles in his castled hall, + When liberty's wild shouts of power prevail, + And give their gladness unto every gale! + Fetters and chains dissolve in holy trust, + Scepters and swords in puny weakness fail, + While crowns and thrones make monumental dust, + And kingly Might is dead, Oppression downward thrust. + + Wide float thy wondrous paeans; loudly range + Thy songs of holy rapture; and the roars + Of deep-mouthed cannons echo wild and strange + Through shouting cities; Patriotism pours + Her full libations on the trembling shores, + Till earth reels with her triumph; and the voice + Of millions mad with merriment far soars + From sea to ocean with entrancing noise, + Till nations hear the cry and continents rejoice. + + Wave on, thou flag of freedom, and this day + Still live in hearts of nations! O, thou Land, + Where Man was first the monarch, where the sway + Of birth exalted first was broken, stand + To guard the helpless with a mighty hand, + And give the weak protection; scout the ban + Which tyrants utter, and with growing band + Of noble freemen serve thy primal plan, + And bind all nations in the Brotherhood of Man! + + + + +"O, GENTLE SHADE OF QUIET WOODS." + + + O, gentle shade of quiet woods, + Where nature dwells in leafy halls, + I love the sacred voice that falls + In music o'er thy solitudes! + Within thine arms the weary heart + Is hidden from the toils of men, + And pleasure makes ambition start + Into a nobler life again. + + Among the fragrant shadows throng + With all the riches of their truth, + Glad echoes from the days of youth + And mingle into laughing song; + While angel fingers touch the keys + That slumber in the silent breast, + Till mem'ry wakes her lullabies + And childhood fancies rock to rest. + + Again the hours of early joy + Upon the aged years intrude, + And dance amid the summer wood + The golden dreamings of the boy; + Again the songs of wonder thrill + The days of life with gladness wild, + And lofty visions fondly fill + The longing fancies of the child. + + Enchanted choirs of baby years, + Sweet dirges from the cradle's keys, + The glories of your harmonies + Impel my secret soul to tears! + The roses of my fancies fade + Into the dust of wicked strife, + And all the promise boyhood made + Has proved the desert of my life. + + O, fragrant woods of happy times, + Fair children of the glowing days, + How sweet the music of your lays + Is mingled into fairy chimes! + Ye lisp again the songs of yore, + The stories of my infant years, + And throw a sweeter cadence o'er + My hoary sorrows and my tears! + + + + +LOVE. + + + Angelic theme of ancient lays! + By Doric hills, Athenian vales, + The nations bound thy brows with bays + And fanned thy cheeks with scented gales; + While golden lamps illumed thy shrines + Beside the Tiber and the Po, + Till anthems thine were taught to flow + Along the Alps and Appenines. + + The souls of sages and of slaves + Were faithful servants unto thee, + Whose rapture soothed the Grecian waves, + And kissed the islands of the sea; + And bounding on from strand to strand + It crossed the coasts and climbed the slopes, + To place a crown of tender hopes + Upon the vine-clad Roman land. + + Great empress of that early time, + Glad ruler of the gentle souls, + Each year is changed to raptured rhyme + That o'er thy laughing bosom rolls; + For cycles as they sink to rest + So closely guard thy joy and truth, + That fondness and immortal youth + Give sweet embraces to thy breast. + + Thou goddess of the Paphian shrine, + Cytheran queen of Ion's isle, + Fair Venus from the land of wine, + The races love thy dewy smile; + While silent hills and dewy glades + Bear praises on each breeze that blows, + Sweet as the breath of morning rose + That blossoms in the woodland shades! + + Then crown, O, Love, these later days + With mystic charms of wondrous bliss, + That lived when thou wert wreathed with bays, + And nations hungered for thy kiss! + No more thy temples tower above, + But lives and bosoms hold thee dear; + Then come with all thy worth of cheer + And gentleness, O, mighty Love! + + + + +WINTERS ON THE FARM. + + + Glad winters on the olden farm! + How raptures from those early times + Commingle into fairy chimes + Which gently banish cries of harm! + My fainting soul finds rest the whiles + Within the arms of memory, + And tender scenes of boyish glee + Transform my sorrows into smiles. + + How brightly beamed the pleasures then, + When frigid fingers came to throw + A wintry winding sheet of snow + Around the silent homes of men! + But happiness found no alarm, + For safe with cheer, secure with love, + She gladly grew and sweetly throve + Through winters on the olden farm. + + With merry bells and busy sleighs, + That sung and flew o'er icy vales + And climbed the hills as fleet as gales, + Like singing phantoms died the days; + Or then with coat and muffler warm + Sweet children glided on the lake, + Or chased the rabbit through the brake, + In winters on the olden farm. + + How glad the joys at eventide + When 'round the hearth-stone's pleasant heat + The simple song in music sweet + From loving voices floated wide! + The mellowed apples gave a charm, + While pop-corn white and cider bright + With worlds of laughter lent delight + To winters on the olden farm. + + Thrice happy nights and happy days, + Sweet isles of pleasure in the past, + May long your hallowed moments cast + A sacred sunshine o'er my ways! + And where life leads me, gladly arm + My soul with angel songs of bliss, + With true embrace and holy kiss, + O, winters on the olden farm! + + + + +"O, WEAK AND WEARY WORLD!" + + + O weak and weary world + Forever struggling on, + When will thy toils in comfort be impearled, + When will thy sorrows and thy cares be gone? + When shall the races, all ambition dead, + Forsake the stony slope and rocky steep, + And in contentment sweetly wed + The joys that never sleep? + + O, weak and weary world, + Long hast thou toiled in vain; + The smoky fumes of woe are darkly curled + With endless troubles and enduring pain; + When will thy bosom, faint and helpless grown, + Rest sweetly in the balmy bowers of ease? + Avoid the woes that constant groan + And follow shapes that please? + + O, weak and weary world, + Why search the hills and seas? + All Nature is in secrecy enfurled + And thou canst never solve her mysteries; + Thou canst not understand nor comprehend + Her varied movements nor the intricate, + The systems that so far extend, + Creation wide and great. + + O, weak and weary world, + Why more attempt advance? + Long have thy forces in confusion whirled + In circles through the misty maze of chance; + The nations rise and sink in sepulchres, + Thy peoples perish in a common grave; + Progression dies, perfection errs, + Wrong rules the wood and wave. + + O, weak and weary world, + Let thy ambition rest! + Long have defeat and gloomy ruin twirled + In dark embrace the purest and the best; + Destruction is thy portion, death thy part, + Ashes thy glory, and thy splendor dust; + Then ease the longings of thy breast; + Serve pleasures well; and trust! + + + + +EX ANIMA. + + + The gloomy hours of silence wake + Remembrance and her train, + And phantoms through the fancies chase + The mem'ries that remain; + And hidden in the dark embrace + Of days that now are gone, + I see a form, a fairy form, + And fancy hurries on! + + I see the old familiar smile, + I hear the tender tone, + I greet the softness of the glance + That cheered me when alone; + The ruby chains of rich romance + That bound our bosoms o'er, + I still can know, I still can feel, + As they were felt before. + + I name the vows, the fresh young vows, + That we together said; + What matters it? She can not know; + She slumbers with the dead! + Again the fields of fate I sow, + As she and I have sown; + I dream again the same old dreams, + But I am left alone! + + The twining grasses verdant wreathe + Above her silent grave; + The rose and violet over all + Their purest blossoms wave; + Unbidden from their fountains fall + The tender tides of tears; + A sorrow winds among the days, + And chains the passing years. + + My life commingles shine with shade, + The lily with the rose, + And in my heart a loathsome weed + Beside each lily grows; + Through every thought, through every deed, + The somber shadows play; + And I am sad, alone and sad, + And life is never gay. + + + + +"LO, ALL THE AGE IS RANK WITH WRONG." + + + Lo, all the age is rank with wrong! + The nations kneel to monstrous might, + And horrid cries that haunt the night, + Have hushed the notes of happy song; + Mankind the deepest truth has missed, + The best emotions have grown dim; + We praise the God that dwelt in Christ, + But crucify the man in him. + + Laws, noble, good, and great at first, + With plan perverted, bind again + The regal rights of mind and men + And prove of tyrants far the worst; + With blinded eyes is Nature made, + And knows her constant purpose crossed, + While crafty Jacob plies his trade + And Esau finds his blessing lost. + + Earth yields her fruits in ample store; + Her children all are heirs that trace + Their lineage through the royal race, + And all her wealth is theirs--and more; + But one with cunning hand controls + The portions that his brothers fed, + While thousands--just and worthy souls-- + In aimless anguish cry for bread! + + No royal blood by caste or creed, + No pride of place, no gild of gold + Can warm the weak, accursed with cold, + Or light the awful nights of need; + Labor alone can blessings bring + To crown the brows of freedom's brave; + The toiler is the truest king, + The idler is the only slave! + + But laugh, O, Labor, dry thy tears! + A better day is drawing nigh; + Hope brightens all the somber sky; + The golden age of Love is near! + Behold! But yonder stands a Star! + The ancient lies are downward hurled; + A man--a child--is greater far + Than all the wealth of all the world! + + + + +"LOVE, THOU GAYEST FANCY-WEAVER." + + + Love, thou gayest fancy-weaver, + Heart-betrayer, soul-deceiver, + Come with all thy clinging kisses; + Bringing all thy beaming blisses; + It may serve the cynic's parts, + If he curse and if he scout thee, + But, O, where were gentle hearts, + If they had to live without thee! + + Weave the spells of thy beguiling + 'Round and 'round me with thy smiling, + Till the ashen cheek is beaming, + And the faded eye is gleaming; + Millions may endure the fight + In the battle vain to end thee, + But when taste they thy delight + They will serve thee and defend thee. + + Bring thy little winsome graces + And the sweets of glad embraces, + Till the pleasures all are dancing + Into mazy whirls entrancing; + It may please the icy breast + To despise thee and distress thee, + But the burning hearts find rest + When they bless thee and caress thee. + + Send thy gladness, laughing rover, + All my sorrows o'er and over, + Till the strains of happy pleasure + Mingle in melodious measure; + It may give a transient glee + To condemn thy ways and sever, + But the sweets of melody + Thou wilt murmur on forever. + + Bind my heart in silken chaining, + Till from thee is none remaining; + Clothe my soul in glad completeness + Of thy happiness and sweetness; + When the times are true, the soul + May not hunger for thy gladness, + But when surging sorrows roll + Thou alone shall banish sadness. + + + + +THE FARMER. + + + Let nations encircle the brows of the brave + With glory the greatest that glitters below, + Who make in the blood of the battle a grave + For all that are found in the ranks of the foe; + But I from the greatness, the grandeur, and gleam, + Would turn to the light of clear-glowing hearth, + And choose from his joy for the soul of my theme + The farmer, the lord and the king of the earth. + + Let millions give worship to riches and wealth, + That gay in their brilliancy sparkle and gleam, + And serve with the hands of their happiest health + The haughty who idle and revel and dream; + In hall or in hamlet, in cottage or cave, + Or sickened with sorrow or maddened with mirth, + There's none I shall serve with the will of a slave + But the farmer, the lord and the king of the earth. + + Let poets in praises heart-swelling and sweet + With rapture that rises in beautiful song, + Make sages immortal and ages replete + With hundreds of heroes who wrestled the wrong; + All honest men well from the Muses may claim + The numbers that murmur to merit and worth, + And so I would fold in the mantles of fame + The farmer, the lord and the king of the earth. + + Let orators over the deeds of the great + Re-echo the tributes of tenderest praise, + And over the ashes that slumber in state + Let peoples their marbles and monuments raise; + But I, from the frenzied applauses uncouth, + To those who are chained in the bondage of birth, + Would flee to surround with the lilies of truth + The farmer, the lord and the king of the earth. + + Let hearts that are grateful in gratitude crown + The friend of the many and foe of the few; + Let souls in their secret admiring enthrone + Whatever a martyr or minion may do; + But down in my bosom while reasonings reign, + Of friendship and love there is never a dearth + For him who is toiling in pleasure or pain, + The farmer, the lord and the king of the earth. + + + + +"NATURE HAS A THOUSAND CHOIRS." + + + Nature has a thousand choirs + Singing in the sylvan shadows, + And the music of her lyres + Echoes in the merry meadows; + Always glad with golden glee + Sounds her happy melody, + Swelling wild in fairy measure + With the songs of purest pleasure. + + Where the dancing fountains play + Winding warbles shake and shiver, + And soft carols rise alway + From the ripples of the river; + Sweetest voices fondly call + From the fleecy waterfall, + And the joyful chimes are creeping + Where the lovely lake is sleeping. + + Raptures echo in the wood, + Where the pimpernel reposes; + Gladness fills the solitude + Where the blushes kiss the roses; + Sunny beam and somber gloom + Utter hymns from bowers of bloom, + Where the vernal winds are crying + And the vocal birds are flying. + + O'er the smiling scenes of earth + Nature throws no sullen weather; + All her soul is full of mirth, + Song and springtime walk together; + For the harps of happy days + Wake the woodlands with their lays, + And where lilies white are springing + Gentle melodies are ringing. + + O, wild Nature, from thy soul + Fill the human hearts with gladness, + Till their lives shall gladly troll + Songs that banish all their sadness! + Bathe their breasts with songs of love + From the Edens found above, + Till their lips shall sing the story + Of their happiness and glory! + + + + +THE WORKINGMAN. + + + God bless the brawny arms of toil, + The noble hearts and royal hands, + That plow the plain and seed the soil, + And grow the grains of laughing lands! + King in the blessed vales of life + Where perfect pleasures first began, + May blessings come with raptures rife + To crown the humble workingman! + + His kingdoms wave with bannered corn + And meadows bright with fairy bloom, + While duties of his heart are born + Where sylvan shadows hide the gloom; + Sweet Nature fills his heart with health, + While rustic warbles lead his soul + Where rill and fountain sing by stealth + And breezes soft with music roll. + + He lives where simple wishes throng, + And give contentment to his breast, + While tender lullabies of song + Bring angel gladness to his rest; + No praises linger o'er his name + Where he in silence works apart, + And honor never links with fame + The modest glories of his heart. + + He needs no kiss of royal crown + To wield the axe or guide the plow, + Or woo the smiles of heaven down + To cling in clusters on his brow; + But in the sacred shine of love, + With humble deeds he lives his days, + And, drinking from the founts above, + He scatters gladness o'er his ways. + + Proud monarch of the tattered vest, + Thy toil is fraught with greater gains + Than his that bleeds where warrior crest + Slays thousands on the battled plains! + Thy duty prompts to build, to grow, + The forest fell, the city plan + And scatter seeds of love below, + Where'er thou art, O, workingman! + + + + +GIVING AND FORGIVING. + + + 'Tis not by selfish miser's greed + The great rewards of love are given; + 'Tis not the cynic's haughty creed + Which gladly makes this world a heaven; + But tender word and loving deed + Increase the angel joys of living, + And mortals gain life's grandest meed + By acts of giving and forgiving. + + Let warriors bold with armies fight + Their awful battles brave and gory, + To reap the harvest of their might + And fill a gaping world with glory! + The humble heroes, out of sight, + Where hidden tears and woes are striving, + Win victories for truth and right + By deeds of giving and forgiving. + + Let mighty kings of loyal lands + Despise the faithful sons of duty, + And with the swords of vandal hands + Destroy the homes of joy and beauty; + The honest lords of low commands + Will find a nobler way of thriving, + In lonely vales where sorrow stands, + By sweets of giving and forgiving. + + Let rich men with their heaps of gold + Be servants of the shining splendor, + And crush the bosom, poor and old, + That lives by mercies pure and tender; + But still the soul with saints enrolled + Will keep its charity surviving, + And have its humble glory told + In tales of giving and forgiving. + + O, helping hands and Christian hearts, + Twin parents of the race's gladness, + God speed the time when your sweet arts + Shall banish every sign of sadness! + When mournful cries, when pain's wild darts, + Shall cease to curse the days of living, + And Heaven's love to man imparts + The joys of giving and forgiving. + + + + +"O, SACRED SOULS THAT GRANDLY SING." + + + O sacred souls that grandly sing + The secret songs of human hearts, + Where your wild music madly starts, + The sorrows into raptures spring! + Within the warbles of your chimes + Man reads the longings of his days, + And finds, amid your lofty lays, + Glad music for his gloomy times. + + How sweet the mute, melodious cries + Which only lives like yours may hear, + Where pleasures thrill the singer's ear + With laughing strains of lullabies! + You know soft voices, rich with love, + That mingle in the fields and woods, + To bless the silent solitudes + With carols coming from above. + + Your golden harps resound alway, + Where valley bound with blossom lies, + And rugged mountains highest rise, + And silver fountains softly play; + While in the gladness of your songs + The fainting bosoms hope again, + And toil among their fellow men, + Forgetful of their ancient wrongs. + + You sport with singing meadows bright, + With fragrant winds and scented gales, + Where shine and shadow kiss the vales + In fairy fondness of delight; + For where the meads and forests blend, + The sweetest songs of life are found, + And where the lonely hills abound + The soul of music meets a friend. + + Glad hearts that warble songs divine, + Sweet singers of a mourning race, + The ages long your brows shall grace + With crowns where bays and laurels twine! + For man the grandest garland brings, + To bless the tender lives that tell, + And with their mystic music swell, + The lays that Nature fondly sings! + + + + +CHRISTMAS TIME. + + + How sweet the brazen belfries chime + Across the hills and through the dales, + And o'er the breasts of meadowed vales, + Beneath the smiles of Christmas time! + Rough sorrow's thorny fingers grow + As soft and waxen as a child's, + And balmy pleasures o'er the wilds + Chant music to the drifting snow. + + Ah, scattered locks that fringe my face, + With wintry wisps of white and gray! + Ah, sad, dimmed eyes that look away + To artless childhood's tender grace! + To-night those years with joys sublime + Steal over me and fill my soul + With lullabies of bliss that roll + The golden glees of Christmas time. + + Again I live in wondrous days, + When baby hands with chubby glee + Plucked gladness from the loaded tree + Where loving burdens bent the sprays; + The sunny songs of that sweet clime + Sing softly in my soul again, + Till I forget the ways of men + And laugh and shout at Christmas time. + + Angelic joys that died in pain, + Sweet raptures from the days of bliss, + Your loving lips with clinging kiss + Thrill all my heart and soul and brain; + And turning from my weary rhyme + To count my sorrows o'er and o'er, + I'd give my life to know once more + Those wondrous days of Christmas time. + + Ring, laughing bells, ring out to-night! + From happy years that now are fled, + You bring the faces of the dead, + And bless me with a deep delight! + Away, away, these thoughts of men, + These toils of mine, that sadness give; + My heart grows young and I would live + My Christmas pleasures o'er again! + + + + +TRUEST HEROES ARE UNKNOWN. + + + All worthies are not sung in song. + That live their lives and do their deeds + Where wounded nature writhes and bleeds + Beneath the savage blows of wrong; + From humble duties tender grown, + The truest heroes are unknown. + + The heart that toils where none may know + And uncomplaining conquers care, + To save his loved ones or to spare + His fellows from the pangs of woe, + Is more the hero than who shields + His country on the bleeding fields. + + He claims no praises for his love, + He seeks no tribute for his worth, + But sows the desert hearts of earth + With blossoms from the vales above; + And in their sunshine warm and bright + He holds these duties as his right. + + Where lives are dark with dismal groans + Great men are often chained by fate, + And oft are slaves more truly great + Than princes on their purple thrones; + But servant brows are bound with shame, + While monarchs flutter into fame. + + Deeds pure and noble, gladly done, + Unselfish work for sickly souls + When sorrow in black surges rolls + And gloomy darkness hides the sun,-- + These in their truth make more the man + Than royal aim or princely plan. + + But sometime man shall rule by thought, + And worth shall gain her just return, + Till all shall every singer spurn + Who in the ancient cycles taught + That heroes rest in royal graves, + But never in the tombs of slaves. + + + + +IF WE BUT KNEW. + + + If we but knew the weary way, + The poisoned paths of hostile hate, + The roughened roads of fiercest fate, + Through which our brother's journey lay, + Would we condemn, as now we do, + His faults and failures,--if we knew? + + Would we forget the shadows grim, + The lonely hours of grief and pain, + The follies dead, the pleasures slain, + The tears and toils that hindered him, + And only prize the deeds that grew + To mighty conquest, if we knew? + + Would careless hand sow tares of strife, + Amid the blooms of happy care, + And plant, in spite of sigh and prayer, + Wild thorns amid the blameless life, + Till sorrows rule the nations through, + With scarce a rival, if we knew? + + Would we be quicker with our praise, + And gladly give the greatest meeds + As recompense for noble deeds, + And heroes crown with brightest bays, + And slay all foes that hearts imbue + With doubt and weakness, if we knew? + + From lofty kings would constant worth + On peasant brows their crowns bestow, + And rising from her overthrow + Eternal justice rule the earth, + While right would strip the favored few + To bless the many, if we knew? + + If we but knew! Ah, well-a-day! + From lives that murmur, full of ills, + Behind the shadows of the hills, + God hides our brother's heart away; + And we shall know in vales of rest + That His eternal ways are best! + + + + +HOPE. + + + When man from pure perfection fell, + And bathed his life in grief and woe, + His angel heart had overthrow + From all the joys he loved so well, + And only Hope of all the host + Remained to comfort him when lost. + + And when the other passions throw + Their phantoms in the arms of death, + And pour their last remaining breath + Within the dismal haunts of woe, + Then Hope alone of all remains + To soothe our sorrows and our pains. + + Hope makes the fearful millions brave, + The helpless and the weary strong, + Gives courage to the fainting throng + And whispers freedom to the slave, + And unto each, where'er he lives, + Unceasing cause to struggle gives. + + In heavy hours of ghostly gloom + When raging billows dash and beat + Around the weak and weary feet + Which tremble on the yawning tomb, + The harp of Hope divinely sings + Exalted songs of better things. + + It lifts the gaze of mortal eyes + Above the desert and the dearth, + Above the barren fields of earth, + Unto the promise of the skies, + And to the last expiring breath + Gives comfort in the hour of death. + + O, sacred light of human life, + Eternal star of Heaven's love, + Thy brightness ever shines above + The darkest hours of woe and strife, + To raise our souls above the sod + Into the holy home of God! + + + + +DESPONDENCY. + + + O, gloomy world that rolls in weary space, + And moans wild music to the broken spheres, + Whose rivers wander into seas of tears, + Despair has bound thee in a close embrace; + A birth, a life, a death; man is no more! + + Death grows beside existence, and with time + Is comrade of its changes; cycles roll + Their heavy circles through the human soul, + And pour their dirges into mournful rhyme; + A birth, a life, a death; man is no more! + + He gropes in shadows for a happy beam + That shall delight his bosom; into mist + Dissolves the substance that ambition kissed, + While greatness grows the garland of a dream; + A birth, a life, a death; man is no more! + + Endeavor struggles to an open grave; + The past is lost in monumental dust, + Where age on age in angry ire has thrust + The wise, the strong, the mighty, and the brave; + A birth, a life, a death; man is no more! + + The years are shades that totter from their tombs, + The ages, ghosts that live in catacombs + And lure the Present to their awful homes, + Where ancient races wander in the glooms; + A birth, a life, a death; man is no more! + + Oblivion welcomes men with gentle arms, + And presses them like infants to her breast, + Repeats to them her lullabies of rest, + And guards them from all sorrows and alarms; + A birth, a life, a death; man is no more! + + Then hasten, world, and let my battle cease; + I care not where I stay nor when I go; + For action gives unhappiness and woe, + But Lethe brings forgetfulness and peace; + A birth, a life, a death; man is no more! + + + + +IF LOVE WERE KING. + + + If Love were king, + That sacred Love which knows not selfish pleasure, + But for its children spends its fondest treasure, + Sad hearts would sing, + And all the hosts of misery and wrong + Forget their anguish in the happy song + That joy would bring. + + If Love were king, + Gaunt wickedness would hide his loathsome features, + And virtue would to all the world's sad creatures + Her treasures fling; + Till drooping souls would rise above their fate, + And find sweet flowers for all the desolate + And sorrowing. + + If Love were king, + Before the scepter of his might should vanish + Toil's curse and care, and happiness should banish + Want's awful sting; + While laughing plenty from sweet hands would throw + Delightful raptures over all below, + And gladness bring. + + If Love were king, + The nations would eternal sunshine borrow, + And conquer all the heavy clouds of sorrow + And every thing + That binds the race in groans and agony; + Life's changing seasons would forever be + Unvaried spring. + + If Love were king! + O, broken feet that wander worn and weary + Beneath the crags and awful mountains dreary, + With rapture cling + Your anguished arms about him; drink delight + Upon his perfect bosom soft and white + And comforting! + + + + +"SING ME THE OLD SONGS, MOTHER." + + + Our souls are the deserts of sorrow, + Our hearts are the ashes of hope, + And madly from gladness we borrow + The brightness where sadness may grope; + My raptures in wretchedness vanish, + My bosom is weeping with wrongs; + Then sing me the old songs, mother, + Then sing me the dear old songs. + + My joys are in memory lying, + Still ardently happy with youth, + When smiles in ambition were dying, + And life was the vision of youth; + My brow for your gentle caresses + And kisses of tenderness longs; + Then sing me the old songs, mother, + Then sing me the dear old songs. + + Sweet murmurs in mystical measures + Come soothingly over my soul, + Where voices of babyish pleasures + And echoes of lullabies roll; + The struggles of all my endeavor + Are bound in the darkest of thongs; + Then sing me the old songs, mother, + Then sing me the dear old songs. + + I fain would return in my dreaming + To years that proclaimed me a boy, + When gladness was happily beaming + And life was a musical toy; + My sorrow has never Nepenthe, + My woe in its bitterness throngs; + Then sing me the old songs, mother, + Then sing me the dear old songs. + + + + +TWO LIVES. + + + Two infants in their cradles lie, + Where lullabies of peace + In gentle strains of tender music die. + And carols never cease. + + Two urchins o'er the meadow lands + Are bounding in their plays, + Where sweet enjoyment with angelic hands + Winds gladness o'er the days. + + Two boys, where golden fancies bless, + Repose in sunny beams, + And muse away the hours of happiness + On couches made of dreams. + + Two men upon a summer sea + Are toiling, brave and strong, + Where pleasures roll their elfin harmony + And labor ends in song. + + Two gray-haired sages, silvered o'er, + In life meet once again, + To name the wondrous happiness they bore + Among their fellow-men. + + Two graves forever hide the twain + Who found, in all their years, + No secret shadows, where unbroken pain + Held fountains full of tears. + + Two lives have passed from human reach, + And few have heard of them, + But joy had not been better served if each + Had worn a diadem. + + Ah, bosoms here are strangely blest + With perfect bliss that glows, + And he above all others lives the best, + Who has the fewest woes! + + + + +"AWAY, AWAY, FROM THE SULTRY WAYS." + + + Away, away, from the sultry ways + Where the pleasures fall and fade, + To the bannered corn and the meadowed bloom + And the forest's cooling shade! + + Afar, afar, from the rooms of care + With the toils of life distressed, + To the grassy hills and the fragrant slopes + And the quiet vales of rest! + + Away from the weary, dusty town, + Where the sorrows dim the days, + To the sleeping lake and the silent stream + And the wildwood's tangled ways! + + To margins wide of the woodland pools, + Where the wild birds troll their songs, + Where the lilies laugh and the willows wave, + And the pleasures dance in throngs! + + The dark-eyed nymphs and the fairy elves + In their robes of laughing smiles, + In the forests romp 'neath the leafy trees, + Through the narrow long-drawn aisles. + + The bannered corn and the golden wheat + In the ties of bliss are bound; + The sweetest joys and highest hopes + On the shady farms are found. + + The raptures reign in the holy scenes, + And the old grow young once more, + To roam the meadows and live again + In the happy years of yore. + + Then haste, O, haste, to the country downs, + Where the valleys are sweet with joys, + And the soul grows young, and the heart is light, + And the bosom is like a boy's! + + + + +SPINSTERHOOD. + + + Alone, alone, in the twilight gray, + In the shadows so dark and dim, + I watch through all of the weary hours, + And I wait with my heart for him; + For him who'll come, when he comes at all, + As my king and warrior bold; + Whose form so tall is my fortress wall + And whose heart is a chunk of gold. + + Again, again, do I dream the dreams, + All the dreams that my young heart knew, + And through my soul do the yearnings thrill + As of old they were wont to do; + I know in truth when his face I see, + I shall fall at his shining feet, + Where'er it be and whoever is he, + In the light of his glances sweet. + + I wait in vain for the sounds that rise + From the tread of his horse's hoof, + And still the mists hide his form away + And forever he stays aloof; + His shining face and his eyes so bright + In the shades of the distance hide, + And out of the night with the stars bedight + He hath never approached my side! + + O, years, O, wonderful tide of years, + From the shadows of time set free + My king, my lover, my life, and bring + To my heart what is most of me! + Somewhere in pain do his yearnings grope + For the joys that my love would bring; + O, up the slope of his life-long hope, + Guide the feet of my royal king! + + + + +"SWEET FAIRIES FROM THE ISLES OF SONG." + + + Sweet fairies from the isles of song, + Bewitching choirs from music land, + The pleasures of your wondrous band + Once wooed me from the ways of wrong; + Once won my heart with fond caress + To sacred vales of summer glees, + Till carols fraught with lullabies + Filled all my soul with blessedness! + + My yearnings miss those gentle sprites, + Whose laughing lips and angel eyes + And voices ever winsome-wise, + Bedewed my dreams with new delights; + For in the sad hours of my pain + I hold them as I hold the dead, + And trust that in the vales they tread, + My hands shall clasp their hands again. + + From those glad meadows where they play + 'Neath lovely sun and gentle star, + My longing soul has wandered far + On rocky path and thorny way; + I croon again the notes of song + In strains they taught me years ago, + And weep because my sorrows know + They have been absent for so long. + + Return, O, laughing sprites of rest, + From gentle isles and peaceful seas, + And pour the balsamed wine of ease + Upon the anguish of my breast! + Till gladness in her raptures roll + Sweet strains of music, and I gain + Eternal joy for all the pain + That darkens o'er my weary soul! + + + + +STANZAS. + + + God bless the man who gave us rest + And him who taught us play, + For kindness reigned within his breast + To all our sorrow slay; + The weary heart, the fainting limb, + The soul that droops in woe, + Should most unceasing praise on him + In gratitude bestow. + + He is the hero of the race, + The toiling nation's friend, + For pity smiles upon his face + With joys that never end; + He tears away the iron gyves + That chain our best repose, + And makes the deserts of our lives + To blossom as the rose. + + He pours his balms into the wound + Of bosom weak and sad, + Till holy pleasures flit around + And all the heart is glad; + Till all is sweet that here before + Was wrapped in bitter woe, + And only gladness hurries o'er + The millions here below. + + Great man he is, and him I give + That gratitude of mine, + Which must in brilliance while I live + With brightest glory shine, + To wreathe a radiance always gay + Around the worthy breast + Of him who first discovered play + And gave the nations rest. + + + + +MAKE THE MOST OF THIS LIFE. + + + Make the most of this life; where the shadow reposes + The beams of the summer shall gather in glee, + And the snow on the graves of the lilies and roses + But cradles the blooms that shall whiten the lea; + Though the hopes of the heart be encircled with sorrow + And billows of wretchedness mutter and roll, + There shall come with the morn of the bountiful morrow + The pleasures that gladden the desolate soul. + + Make the most of this life; where the carols are sleeping + That rose in their rapture from lips of the spring, + That awakened the world from its winter of weeping, + Sweet songs shall be sung by the birds on the wing. + Though the bosom be dark with the dirges of sadness + And solitudes gather so heavy and lone, + There shall float from the musical meadows of gladness + The ravishing measures that banish each groan. + + Make the most of this life; 'tis a garden of beauty, + Where, blushing, the blossoms grow tenderly-sweet, + While they brighten the years of man's labor and duty + And scatter the kisses of love at his feet; + 'Tis a world that is wild with the laughter of living + When hands do the brotherly kindness they can, + And its hearts are the treasures of tenderness giving + To soften and sweeten the nature of man. + + Make the most of this life; there is happiness in it, + When souls find a theme for their jubilant song; + There is music, when angels are taught to begin it, + Which never was marred with a murmur of wrong; + There are voices that sing in their sweetness forever, + And mutter no strains of contention or strife, + Neither burden the hours with the pangs of endeavor, + When we, with our deeds, make the most of this life. + + + + +"THE SONGS THAT MOTHER USED TO SING." + + + The songs that mother used to sing! + How tenderly those ditties roll, + And to the dirges in my soul + The happy notes of gladness bring! + Where'er my vagrant feet may roam + From pleasures of my childhood's home, + This life of mine with rapture throngs, + When thinking of my mother's songs. + + They were not made of magic lays; + No perfect melodies were found, + That with the strains of fairy sound + Would charm the stranger's ear to praise; + But I can never hope to meet + Another music half so sweet, + And all my longing love will cling + To songs that mother used to sing. + + With gentleness of crooning cries, + She freed the aching limbs from pain, + And lulled the eyes to sleep again + With sweetness of her lullabies. + Love mingled with her tender voice + In tones that made the heart rejoice, + And Heaven's music seemed to ring + In songs that mother used to sing. + + Though years have passed, they still impart + Glad warbles to the hours of woe, + And their mute carols fondly throw + The sacred raptures o'er my heart; + Until my locks are thin and gray + Deep in my soul will sound alway, + And full of joy will ever spring + The songs that mother used to sing. + + + + +"QUAFF THE GLASS, THE WINE IS RED." + + + Quaff the glass, the wine is red, + And the rose of youth is glowing, + While the toils of life are fled + And the snows of age are going; + Quaff it with a hearty will, + Quaff it deep and quaff forever; + Wine will every sorrow kill, + And destroy the pleasures never. + + When the heart beats sad and low, + Drink its gladness like a river; + When the soul is weak with woe, + Quaff and be a cheerful liver; + Never, never, life, despair, + While a cup of hope is nigh thee; + Bend not under loads of care + While the fount of joy is by thee! + + If the fickle friendships end + And thy fortune be a sad one, + Claim, O, claim, as truest friend, + Ruby wine, the sweet and glad one! + If thy love hath proven cold, + Leave her, leave her, for the new one; + Wine is never false for gold; + Friend to friend, a tried and true one! + + Let the cynics curse and rave; + This must be a life of pleasure; + Fill a bumper! He's the knave + Who would scorn joy's fullest measure; + Quaff the glass, the wine is red; + Hour by hour the days are going; + Wine is yet the fountain head + From which pleasure's tide is flowing + + + + +GOOD-NIGHT. + + + Good night, my little love, good-night! + May angels keep + With fondest watch thy slumbers, till the light + Shall break thy sleep, + And morning with its wonders bright + Shall banish all thy cares with might. + + Within this quickened life of mine, + I bear away + The loving looks and tender words of thine, + Which from this day + Within my soul shall ever shine + And make me better, more divine. + + With love and trust and truth, my heart + Beats all for thee; + And though our lives may wander far apart, + Till death's decree + Shall pierce my hopes with deadly dart, + Thou still my star of guidance art. + + Good-night, dear one! As gladdest songs, + The sweetest dreams + Fill all my happy soul in joyous throngs, + And tender themes + Bring bliss for which my nature longs, + And slay the curse of ancient wrongs. + + Good-night, my little love! In care + Of Heaven rest, + And may thy life no deeper sorrow share + Than love's behest, + Beneath the smiles of raptures rare! + Good-night! God keep thee everywhere! + + + + +LIVE LIFE WITH LOVE. + + + There is no soul of anguish or repining, + That doubts and trembles in the shades of gloom, + But love can lead where softest suns are shining + And fill his days with beauty and its bloom. + Live life with love! + + There is no bosom dark with lonely caring, + That sadly sorrows in the nights of woe, + But love can soothe his torture and despairing, + And scatter gladness where his feet may go. + Live life with love! + + There is no scene of misery or sorrow + That droops and withers in the dark of night, + But love can bring fond yearnings for the morrow + And heap the heart with hope's unfading light. + Live life with love! + + There is in all the world no sinful creature + That gropes and falters on his troubled way, + But love can overcome his erring nature, + And change his darkness to eternal day. + Live life with love! + + Sweet love, with bounties that her hands are giving, + Can blossom roses on the desert heath, + Can brighten all the longings of the living + And with found kisses warm the lips of death. + Live life with love! + + As love is thine, so shall thy days be sweeter + With all the deeds that shall thy fellows bless; + Thy small achievements nobler and completer + With truth and hope and highest happiness! + Live life with love! + + + + +DISCONTENT. + + + The sun comes up in the east + And the sun goes down in the west, + And man to me is a heartless beast + And the world has only a savage breast. + + How thoughts rush over my soul + As the waves walk over the sea! + Their forms flee soon and the sorrows roll + In the deep distress that is over me. + + How hopes arise in my heart, + As the roses bloom over the plain! + But time is tearing their sweets apart + And they die in darkness and awful pain. + + Ambitions burn in my breast, + As the fires in a city rage; + But damp creeps over their fervid zest + And they sink away into ashen age. + + If there was pleasure for pain + I could well be happy awhile, + And, O, my bosom would ne'er complain, + If my fortune gave me a single smile. + + But here I am, and the curse is on, + And my life is a waste of woe, + And ere one river of tears is gone, + O, another torrent begins to flow. + + Ah, the sun comes up in the east + And the sun goes down in the west. + And man to me is a heartless beast + And the world has only a savage breast! + + + + +STANZAS. + + + Put not trust nor tenderness to sleep, + In sorrow sad; + The heart, in which a little love may creep, + Is not all bad. + + The darkest hours that wear a wondrous gloom, + Are somewhat light, + If but one ray of brilliancy illume + The brooding night. + + The field in which the weed and bramble thrive + Has some of good, + If but a single blossom struggling live + Amid the rude. + + The ocean vast is not all desolate, + The worlds between, + If on its waters bearing human freight + One sail is seen. + + All is not harsh and cold amid the wood, + If warbled song + Resound, how feebly, through the solitude + Of tangled wrong. + + The desert, barren, bleak, a waste of sand + Does never spread, + If spear of grass in verdure green expand + Above the dead. + + Then put not trust nor tenderness to sleep + In sorrow sad; + The heart in which a little love may creep + Is not all bad. + + + + +THE WAY OF THE WORLD. + + + Since Adam's first sin in the garden of song, + Where the hopes of the race were empearled, + Whenever a mortal does anything wrong, + It is only the way of the world! + + If statesmen forget all the pledges they made, + And the people to evils are hurled,-- + Excuse their misdeeds! 'Tis a trick of the trade, + And is only the way of the world! + + If bankers, confusing distinctions of wealth, + Have your gold to their own pockets whirled, + And then gone to Europe for pleasure and health-- + It is only the way of the world. + + If preachers, forgetting the Master of old + And the banner of light He unfurled, + Elope with the fairest ewe-lambs of the fold,-- + It is only the way of the world. + + If merchants, unscrupulous, cheat with a will + While their lips are at honesty curled,-- + Harsh blame, hie away! And your censure, be still! + It is only the way of the world! + + The way of the world! What a happy excuse + For the faults and the follies unfurled! + Bind virtue securely! The vices turn loose! + 'Tis the way--'tis the way--of the world! + + + + +MY SHADOW AND I. + + + A something, not of earth or sky, + Beside me walks the ways I go, + And I--I never truly know, + If I am it or it is I. + + It soothes me with its tender speech, + It guides me with its gentle hand, + But I--I can not understand + The links that bind us each to each. + + I hear the songs of golden days + Fall softly on the saddened years, + But know not whose the hungry ears + First feasted on the roundelays. + + I feel the hopes, the yearnings brave, + Within my bosom surge and roll, + But know not whose the Master Soul + That called their glories from the grave. + + I see the great world's greater curse, + Dark struggles on through darker days, + But know not whose the eyes that gaze + Through all the sobbing universe. + + O, Shadow mine! Beneath my brow + I feel thy thoughts, and in my heart + Thy fondest longings madly start! + Thou art myself and I am thou! + + + + +IN THE VALES. + + + When from these vales I go, + That slumber on in dreams, + O, will the summer winds dance to and fro, + And kiss the streams + That play where roses scatter fond perfume + And lilies burst with bloom? + + Glad children of the spring, + They moan their music sweet + Where tangled grasses wave, and softly sing + Where meadows meet, + And wildwood shadows drooping bless + The groves with happiness. + + Their soothing songs I hear + Among the granite hills, + Above the elfin warbles rich and clear + From rippling rills, + As if they called my soul in future days + To wander all their ways. + + Ah, moaning winds, you seem + To fill my musing breast + With lullabies that linger as I dream + And bring me rest; + For melodies from your low voices creep + That soothe my heart with sleep! + + + + +THE WILLOW. + + + A song for the willow, the wild weeping willow, + That murmurs a dirge to the rapturous days, + And moans when the kiss of the breeze laden billow + Entangles and dangles among the sad sprays! + A musical ditty to scatter the sadness, + A warble of wildness to banish its tears, + Till tremulous measures of bountiful gladness + Be sounding and bounding through all of the years. + + The beautiful brooks, as they waken from slumbers, + Pause under the shadows that fall from the boughs, + And weave their caresses in passionate numbers, + While soothing and smoothing the frowns from its brows; + But chained in the desolate sorrows of weeping + Its heart never warms to the raptures of mirth, + And over its bosom no pleasures are creeping + While wending and blending their joys with the earth. + + Then sing for the willow, the wild weeping willow, + That droops in the smiles of the summer-born times, + And mourns in the kiss of the sweet-scented billow, + When beaming and gleaming are dripping with chimes! + While melodies move where their happiness lingers, + They surely will gladden the tear-laden sprays, + And music that flutters from fairy-like fingers + Will lighten and brighten the burdensome days. + + + + +AT THE MILL. + + + The water-wheel goes 'round and 'round + With heavy sighs of mournful sound, + While dismal cries and weary moans + Unite with sad and tearful groans, + And weeping waves of water throw + Afar the echoes of their sadness, + And cadences of plaintive woe + Dispel each little note of gladness. + + My daily life goes 'round and 'round, + And rest for me is never found; + The sobbing dirges of distress + Are more than songs of happiness; + The shadows of despairing doom + Condemn to-day and curse to-morrow, + And muffled terrors fill the gloom + Which offers anguish to my sorrow. + + But hope, O, heart, for future weal! + The waters rest beyond the wheel; + So life may sing when toil is done + And all its battles lost or won. + There lives a sweeter music there, + Of gentle and melodious measure, + Where weeping never comes and where + The ages perish into pleasure. + + + + +SHADOW AND SHINE. + + + They will find in this life who are grieved with its gladness + No songs for the heart and no hopes for the soul, + But will faint in the glooms where the dirges of sadness + In tremulous murmurs of wretchedness roll; + For the sweets of this earth never lavish their kisses + Where lives in the valleys of rapture repine; + In the tortures they mourn who denounce all the blisses,-- + They weep in the shadow that rail at the shine. + + In the fields that are fair with the blooms of the clover, + No garlands are grown for the arbors of shade + Where the woes of the wood in their darkness hang over + The grasses that wave with the winds of the glade; + From the chimes of the breezes there echo no measures + That gladden the gale with a music divine; + In the troubles they languish who shrink from the pleasures, + They weep in the shadow that rail at the shine. + + Ah, the world is abounding with wonderful glories + And wild are the warbles that sweeten its ways + While the songs of the land sing their beautiful stories, + And scatter their melodies over the days! + There are smiles, there are joys, never mingled with sorrow, + O, man, in return for the tears that are thine, + And the soul never sobs that has hopes for the morrow, + Nor weeps in the shadow nor rails at the shine! + + + + +THE GROWTH OF SONG. + + + A tender song in shadows grew, + And humble hearts were homes it knew. + + But through its wondrous music stole + The longings of the human soul; + + The hopes of hosts unsatisfied + Within its numbers wandered wide; + + And strangely wet with toilsome tears + It held the yearnings of the years; + + Till millions with their woes oppressed, + Proclaimed the song of peace and rest; + + Till nations in their troubled ways + Found comfort in the joyous lays, + + And all the halting race of wrong + Exalts the loving might of song! + + Ah, song that soothes our many cries + With fondness of thy lullabies, + + We love, we bless, we scepter thee + Proud empress of the hearts that be! + + + + +SPRING AND MUSIC. + + + Spring, among her sylvan shades, + And the gladness of her glades, + Once in dreamy hours was straying, + Where sweet Music with her throngs + Of glad melodies and songs + In the happy vales was playing. + + Pan beheld the fairy maids + As they gamboled in the shades, + And he swore they should not sever. + But that o'er the blooming land, + Heart to heart and hand in hand, + They should wander on forever. + + Thus when come the gentle days + O'er the wildwood's tangled ways, + There is found no gloomy weather; + For among the leafy bowers + And the valleys bright with flowers + Spring and Music walk together! + + + + +COMPENSATION. + + + The softest beams of the stars are born in the farthest skies, + And fairest rays of the sun where evening shadows rise; + The sweetest songs of the bird are sung in the darkest days, + And rarest blooms of the spring are found in the wildest ways. + + The brightest blush of the rose is blown as the petals fade. + The greenest grass of the earth is grown in the hidden glade; + The fondest rhyme of the rill is heard in the secret vale, + And lightest lays of the breeze are borne from the dying gale. + + The highest hopes of the heart in saddest of sorrows grow, + The purest pleasures of joy arise in the wane of woe; + The gladdest smiles of the lips are seen in the hours of pain, + And proudest days of the free are spent by the broken chain. + + The grandest deeds of the race are writ on the faded scroll, + The truest rivers of good from villainous fountains roll; + The perfect raptures of life are reared in the arms of care, + And Hope with her joys dispels the darkness of our despair. + + + + +MY MOLLIE, O! + + + 'Twas in the summer's sweet perfume, + When roses bloomed and holly, O, + That in the brightness of her bloom, + I first did meet my Mollie, O. + + Although she said for lives to love + Was nothing but pure folly, O, + My heart was lit with light above, + And I true loved my Mollie, O. + + O, swift and fast the days did flee + And seemed most bright and jolly, O, + For evermore was near to me + My fair and lovely Mollie, O. + + Now I doth sit through all the day + And nurse my melancholy, O, + For from me she has turned away, + O, false and fickle Mollie, O! + + + + +SING NOT OF BEAUTY. + + + Sing not of beauty's grace to me; + Its very name a story tells + Of doubly dark inconstancy, + Love falser than a hundred hells. + + Its face is often but a screen + To hide a devil's heart of guile, + Of thoughts and deeds of shameful mien, + By winning looks of heartless wile. + + Its laughing smile is but the gleam + That springs from dross of foulest make; + It stirs a sweet but idle dream, + Then leaves the trusting heart to break. + + Sing not of beauty's grace to me; + I can not bear to hear the name; + For, oh! Too oft in it I see + A soul of falsehood and of shame! + + + + +AT EVENTIDE. + + + At eventide, when glories lie + In crimson curtains hung on high, + And all the breast of heaven glows + With mingled wreaths of flowers and snows, + The dearest dreams of life draw nigh. + + The pleasures in their soft robes fly + With angel wings adown the sky, + And rapture lulls to sweet repose, + At eventide. + + Ah, well-a-day! Life's weary cry, + And all its curse and care shall die, + When Age on downy couches throws + His weary limbs and only knows + The tender dreams of bye-and-bye, + At eventide! + + + + +WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES. + + + When Christmas comes, what pleasures spring + From drooping hearts on happy wing, + Like joyous birds that soaring rise + From hidden coverts to the skies. + And echo in the chimes that ring! + + Glad millions in wild rapture sing + Hosannaed hopes of welcoming, + While praises blend in harmonies, + When Christmas comes. + + Ah, happy hours! Around them cling + The dearest joys that life may bring, + And all the world's despairing cries + Are soothed to sleep with lullabies + That banish every bitter thing, + When Christmas comes! + + + + +WHEN THOU ART NEAR. + + + When thou art near, with gladdest grace + My heart is held in fond embrace, + For laughing lips with raptures bless + The toils and tears of my distress, + And woes within me have no place. + + The halting hours with hurried pace + Whirl wildly on through happy space, + And life is light with happiness, + When thou art near. + + Like mortals whom an angel race + Renews with gladness face to face, + I thrill with Love's unseen caress + That holy hands upon me press, + And Heaven's pleasures all I trace, + When thou art near. + + + + +HE SLEEPS AT LAST. + + + He sleeps at last! The vales of rest + Are waiting for the war-worn breast, + And glorious angels fondly spread + The sweetest roses for his bed. + While countless millions call him blest. + + Fame welcomes him with glad behest, + While garlands on his brow are pressed, + And laurels cluster o'er his head; + He sleeps at last. + + O, deep the sorrows here confessed, + Where Freedom makes eternal quest! + The wondrous chief that proudly led + The long, blue lines that fought and bled, + In peace is now no more distressed; + He sleeps at last! + + + + +WHEN FORTUNES FROWN. + + + When fortunes frown, the woes, bedight + With brooding shadows, bring the night, + While dismal sorrows darkness dole, + And disappointments rise and roll + Above the longings for the light. + + Despair, with hands that curse and blight, + Sows weakness in the hearts of might + Until they falter near the goal, + When fortunes frown. + + But onward still! The valleys white + With Heaven's blossoms are in sight; + The Holy Mountains, knoll on knoll, + Are waiting for the Master Soul, + And he shall conquer for the right, + When fortunes frown! + + + + +WHEN WE SHALL MEET. + + + When we shall meet, I strangely know + The mad emotions that shall flow + Across my heart all quivering, + Beneath the raptures he shall bring + From angel years that gladdened so. + + And I all shy and silent grow + Beneath his glance of gladness, though + Wild yearnings through my bosom spring, + When we shall meet. + + Till joyful tears of passion show, + And to his kind embrace I throw + My heart unworthy, and I cling + With deathless fondness to the king + I worshipped in the Long Ago, + When we shall meet! + + + + +SWEET EYES OF BLUE. + + + Sweet eyes of blue! The stars by night, + That swoon the world with laughing light, + And touch the hills with tender glow + While all the vales are kissed below, + Beside you would no more be bright. + + My worlds ye are, and while I throw + My heart to catch the beams that flow + From your fair shrine, my woes take flight, + Sweet eyes of blue! + + Glad orbs of beauty! In your sight + My soul mounts up with secret might, + Till Eden's lovely bowers I know; + And as through Heaven's gates I go, + The pleasures all my sorrow smite, + Sweet eyes of blue! + + + + +HAD WE NOT MET. + + + Had we not met, the brooding woe + And all the griefs that greater grow, + Might not have been, and happy-wise + Our lives have laughed with lullabies + And quaffed such joys as few may know. + + Our days beneath embittered skies + Where anguish moans and sorrow cries, + Might not have wept and wandered so, + Had we not met! + + But ah, my darling! All we prize,-- + Love and sweet trust that never dies, + Wild yearnings that with constant flow + From kindred heart to bosom go,-- + Would never in our souls had rise, + Had we not met! + + + + +A SONNET. + + + We gentler grow by sorrow; not the breast + That never crouches in the nights of tears, + That never bends beneath the loads of years, + Has sympathies that are the kindliest. + There is a strength in agony that best + Can link the careless heart with human fears, + And teach it that fond kindness which endears + The millions that with sadness are oppressed. + + Grief softens while it saddens; pleasure smites + The timid soul with harshness, till it knows + Small earnest of the great world's grievous woes + And little of its struggles; sorrow plights + Her troth with sorrow, and in tears unites + Man unto man and hatred overthrows. + + + + +OKLAHOMA,--A SONNET. + + + Here, through the ages old, the desert slept + In solitudes unbroken, save when passed + The bison herds, and savage hunters swept + In thund'ring chaos down the valleys vast; + But, lo! Across the barren margins stepped + Advancement with her legions, and one blast + From her imperial trumpet filled the last + Lone covert where affrighted wildness crept. + + Full armed, full armored, at her wondrous birth, + Her shining temples wreathed with gorgeous dower, + She sits among the empires of the earth; + Her proud achievements o'er the nations tower, + Won by her people with their royal worth, + With lofty culture, wisdom, wealth and power. + + + + +ESTRANGED. + + + Though far apart, my darling, side by side + We wander still and our fond yearnings meet, + As when our hearts with highest raptures beat + Before our footsteps trod the paths of pride; + Our close companionship hath never died; + True love and trust are always fair and sweet, + And time from life's best hopes can never hide + A kindred soul that made its own complete! + So thou, dear one, shall come once more to me, + The sweeter grown for all thy years of pain; + My longing arms shall open wide for thee, + And thou shalt nestle on my breast again; + Then perfect love shall richly crown the years, + And both be better for our griefs and tears. + + + + +RECONCILED. + + + We meet again beyond the barren past, + Beyond the pride, the sorrows and the tears; + And yearnings leave the strife and hate of years + To flood our souls with perfect peace at last! + Our hearts forget the wrong so deep and vast, + The wounding words and all the cruel woe, + Till joy is all our bounding bosoms know, + And life is glad with happiness at last. + + Love, deathless and forgiving, crowns with bays + The future and our hopes, as full of grace, + As youth had fondly dreamed in other days, + When first we knew how sweet was her embrace. + God's endless purpose guides the feet of men; + Beyond our pride we meet in love again! + + + + +THE DYING HERO. + + + His greatness hath not left him; till the years + Have won the nation from her children dead, + And robbed her of remembrance where she rears + Her monuments above the blood they shed, + Will his name want for homage; with sad fears + The Union winds her garlands o'er his head, + And fondly wreathes her love, bedewed with tears, + To bless the hero on his dying bed. + + His luster lives untarnished; as he lies + Where Malady has bound him in wild pain, + And only Death can loose the heavy chain + That galls her captive while his nature dies, + He seems far greater in his country's eyes, + Than if an Appomattox spake again. + + + + +SONNET. + + + Somehow, someway, I can not see the light; + The giant hills of doubting reach the skies, + Abiding shadows bring eternal night, + And on my ways no suns of morning rise; + Dark mysteries across the years of might + Crush down my hopes, until each yearning dies, + Until my soul is weary, dim my sight, + And ghostly echoes mock my fainting cries. + + Ah, I shall know beyond these narrow years, + The glorious mornings of eternal day, + Where perfect love and tender trust shall play, + And smiles and laughter banish all the tears, + And all the heavy mists of doubts and fears + Shall leave my longing soul somehow, someway! + + + + +GREATNESS LIVES APART. + + + Great natures live apart; the mountain gray + May call no comrade to his lonely side; + The giant ocean, wrapped in storm and spray, + Has no companion for her endless tide; + The forest monarch, where his parents died, + Can find no brother in his lofty sway, + And mighty rivers chafe their margins wide + Where infant rills and childish fountains play. + + So heroes live; no raptured blossoms start + Where rugged heights of human glory end; + No tender songs of loving beauty blend + Their chorus in the great man's peerless heart; + Fate fills their souls with magnitude, and art + Supplies their lives with no congenial friend. + + + + +POEMS. + + + Poems are holy things. Eternal Truth, + Borrowing the robes of song and lovely grown, + In them her glory unto man proclaims + And fills his longing soul. They softly speak + Of Nature's beauty and the secrets old + Concealed behind the shadows of the hills, + And love on angel fingers borne to men, + Naming them over in so sweet a voice + That music leads their footsteps in the ways + Where God has walked; and with a lofty Harp, + As wondrous as the gentle harps of heaven, + Uplifts, ennobles, soothes and leads the race + Unto its last great ultimate of power, + To words of tenderness and goodly deeds. + + + + +SINGER AND SONG. + + + A singer sang in sorrow long + And breathed his life into his song. + + Unknown, unheard, the song went wide, + Until the singer, starving, died. + + Now in their hearts the nations write + And wear the singer's song of might. + + Ah, singers fail and fall from view, + But songs are always, always new! + + If garlands none to singers cling, + Bays wreathe above the songs they sing. + + + + +TO ONE WHO PLEDGED HER FRIENDSHIP. + + + Within this false world we may count ourselves blest, + If we have but one friend who is faithful and true; + And so in your friendship contented I'll rest, + And believe I have found that one blessing in you. + + + + +THE BANKS O' TURKEY RUN. + + + Like a thousan' birds o' brightness from the isles o' summer seas, + Rickollections, full o' gladness, come with songs and lullabies, + An' I listen to the carols that with gentle voices roll, + Full o' tenderness an' beauty, down upon my weary soul, + Fer thar's one thet keeps a-singin' with a song thet's never done, + An' I see the bendin' willers on the banks o' Turkey Run. + + An' agin' I be a youngster with a youngster's foolin' dreams, + With his high-falutin' notions an' his fiddle-faddle schemes; + With the laughin' an' the cryin', with the sorrow an' the joy, + Thet is jumbled up together in the bosom o' the boy; + An' agin my arly fancies in a fairy loom are spun + Underneath the dancin' shadders on the banks o' Turkey Run. + + An' agin I be a school-boy with the other merry lads, + When Joe an' Jerry, Bill an' I, wus only little tads, + When a half a dozen marvels an' a kivered ball was worth-- + With a knife o' Barlow pattern--all the treasures o' the earth; + An' the soundin' sort o' thunder from a poppin' kind o' gun + Set our faces all a-giggle on the banks o' Turkey Run. + + It 'ud tickle any feller but ter see the solemn look, + When the master was a-watchin', thet we fastened on the book, + But the mischief stickin' in us, like pertaters in a sack, + It wus never hard ter empty when the teacher turned his back; + O, the paper wads we tumbled thet 'ud weigh about a ton, + In thet crazy-cornered school-house on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + How we used ter chase the robins an' the rabbits in the wood, + How we gethered bloomin' posies in the sighin' solitude! + How we wundered all the medders in our roamin's o'er an' o'er, + How we teetered in the branches o' the beech an' sycamore! + Or we watched the rompin' minners as they rasseled in their fun, + While we nearly bust a-laughin', on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + How we used ter go a-fishin' when the day wus gittin' late, + With a little line o' cotton an' a fish-worm fer a bait! + With a bent pin for a fish-hook an' a hazel fer a pole, + How we sought the softest places by the widest, deepest hole! + How we teehee-eed at the nibbles, caught the fishes one by one, + With the biggest kind o' prowess, on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + When the sun was burnin' shavin's in the heatin' stove o' June, + An' the clock upon the mantle wus a-knockin' off the noon + When the beams in bunches blistered as they never did afore, + An' the sweat was drippin', droppin', from the mouth o' every pore, + How we skipped across the medder, how our swimmin' wus begun, + In the cool an' crystal waters 'tween the banks o' Turkey Run! + + O, the smilin' days o' childhood! O, the loudly laughin' years! + When contentment brings the moments neither heaviness ner tears! + When the pleasures jine the longin's an' the fairy fingers roll + All the heaps o' angel music in upon the blazin' soul! + O, my Joe an' Bill an' Jerry! Trustin' comrades, you wus won + Whar my bare feet brushed the grasses on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + But, alas! Thar wus another; she was fairer than the rest, + An' she allus had a hearin' fer the wishes o' my breast; + Allus wus a chunk o' sunshine an' a piece o' quiet glee, + Allus had a smile o' welcome an' a tender word fer me; + An' without her wus no shinin' an' o' happiness wus none + Ter bring gladness ter my bosom on the banks o' Turkey Run. + + O, her home wus in a cottage whar the mornin'-glories hung, + An' the arly birds o' April with their sweetest music sung; + Thar wus roses 'round her winder, thar wus roses 'round her door, + Thet wus stickin' full o' blushes, but they allus blushed the more, + When her eyes wus seen a-peepin' an' her cheeks beamed like the sun, + From thet cosy little cottage on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + Many an' many a time we wandered in the grassy medder-land + With our wishes right together an' our longin's hand in hand; + How we dreamed about the future when the world should give me fame, + An' when she would be thrice noble to be worthy o' my name! + Thus we talked an' thus we fancied; others might my boyhood shun, + But I found her kind, my sweetheart, on the banks o' Turkey Run. + + But the times have been a-changin' sence them arly years o' joy, + When she wus but a little girl an' I a little boy; + When Joe an' Jerry, Bill an' I, together wus at play, + With our hearts as light as feathers, every minute of the day, + An' at twilight sunk ter slumber tell the mornin' wus begun, + In the gloomy silent forests on the banks o' Turkey Run. + + Bill an' Joe have gone a-rovin' on a fortune-huntin' quest + Through the silver mines an' Injuns in the mountains o' the west; + But the janders came ter Jerry with a solemn sort o' call + Tell they painted him as yaller as a punkin in the fall; + An' to-day I saw his tombstone as it glittered in the sun, + Over in the little churchyard, on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + An' alas, my precious sweetheart! Like a lily virgin white, + Did she slowly fade an' wither tell her spirit took its flight! + Like an angel into heaven did she sweetly, calmly creep, + An' her lovely life wus over an' her bosom went ter sleep; + An' the tollin', tollin' church-bells dropt the dirges one by one, + As we laid her 'neath the wilier on the banks o' Turkey Run. + + Thar a little cross o' marble marks the sacred, silent shade, + Whar the fair an' laughin' beauty o' my ole sweetheart wus laid; + An' the summer has a sadness thet is cryin' through the years, + An' my heart is full o' sorrow, an' mine eyes is full o' tears, + Fer I've allus had a failin', sence her friendship first I won, + Fer thet little lovin' maiden on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + But them days have past forever in the years o' long ago, + An' a wishin' ter be wealthy has enraptured Bill an' Joe; + Death has taken Jerry; only I, o' all the boys, + Am' remainin' ter remember all them arly angel joys; + But to-night I see their faces as they peep in full o' fun, + An' agin we're boys together, on the banks o' Turkey Run! + + + + + +_ENVOY_. + + + _Oh, to be able to capture and bring_ + _And bind in the bonds of control,_ + _Some of the carols that warble and sing_ + _Down in the depths of my soul._ + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Oklahoma and Other Poems, by Freeman E. 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