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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b907c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60504 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60504) diff --git a/old/60504-0.txt b/old/60504-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2a40cf8..0000000 --- a/old/60504-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3618 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A-Naughty-Biography and other poems, by Mrs. Enoch Taylor - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A-Naughty-Biography and other poems - -Author: Mrs. Enoch Taylor - -Release Date: October 16, 2019 [EBook #60504] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A NAUGHTY BIOGRAPHY AND OTHER POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by MFR, John Campbell and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. - - Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book. - - - - - A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY - - AND - - OTHER POEMS. - - - BY - - MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR. - - - CINCINNATI: - - ROBERT CLARKE & CO., PRINT. - - 1878. - - - - -COPYRIGHTED. - -MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR. - -1878. - - - - -TO - -“MY DEAR FIVE HUNDRED.” - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE. - - A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY, 7 - - My Infancy, 7 - - School Life, 20 - - Girlhood, 38 - - A “Good-Bye”-ography, 56 - - - MISCELLANEOUS. - - THE VILLAGE BELLE, 61 - - ST. VALENTINE’S DAY, 65 - - THE RAINY DAY, 67 - - AUTUMN, 68 - - OCTOBER, 69 - - LOVE’S LONGINGS, 70 - - SHE SLEEPS BENEATH THE ROSES, 72 - - NOVEMBER, 73 - - GONE BLIND, 75 - - LINES WRITTEN BY THE SEASIDE, 77 - - TWENTY SUMMERS, 80 - - CHIDING “LOVE’S CHIDINGS,” 81 - - FOUND DROWNED, 83 - - THE DARK DAYS OF WINTER, 87 - - THE SONG OF THE SLUSH, 89 - - BETRAYED, 91 - - SUMMER SIGHINGS, 96 - - OUR BABY, 97 - - CREMATION, 98 - - Response by Cindrella, 100 - - Answer by Author, 100 - - ALONE, 102 - - A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM, 105 - - NIGHT’S PHASES, 114 - - THE FOUNDLING, 116 - - THE NEW YEAR, 121 - - SPRING SPECIALTIES, 123 - - MUSIC, 124 - - THE FAIR APE OF PHILA., 126 - - DECORATION ODE, 128 - - THE HONEYMOON, 130 - - THE MODEL MAN, 131 - - THE STRICKEN SOUTH, 137 - - “IF EVER I CEASE TO LOVE”, 139 - - AN APPEAL FOR THE MEMPHIS ORPHANS, 141 - - WAITING FOR FROST, 143 - - OCTOBER, 145 - - GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN, 146 - - WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY, 149 - - ADIEU TO “MY DEAR FIVE HUNDRED,” 152 - - - - -A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. - - -MY INFANCY. - - Full forty years have passed and gone, - Since early on a winter’s morn, - My infant eyes first struck the light. - At once I showed my baby-spite, - To find my new abode so plain, - And half resolved I’d not remain. - If I had unexpected come, - And found this unpretending home, - I might the negligence excused, - But now I felt I was abused. - - For half a year the fact was known - That I was on the road to town, - And all the neighbors, far and near, - Said, “Doctor’d bring a baby here.” - And so I came at dawn of day, - A-crying, too, I’ve heard them say, - And found few preparations made-- - I’ve often wondered that I stayed. - - Plain petticoats and untrimmed slips, - Pewter spoons that scratched my lips, - A cradle made of painted pine, - That rocked so rough it made me whine; - Then three long hours every day - The colic checked my baby play; - For months this griping kept me riled, - And nearly set my mother wild. - - At last our troubles seemed to wane, - I thought I’d bid adieu to pain, - When teething time, with all its pangs, - Commenced its course with piercing twangs; - My mother’d walk the floor by day-- - My pa by night, I’ve heard them say. - - My father, jolly, good, and kind, - Would often half make up his mind - To slap me soundly if I cried, - But his heart would fail him when he tried, - And as he tossed and dandled me - In drowsiness upon his knee, - They say the more he nursed and tried, - The more I always screamed and cried, - And often would each soul alarm - Upon our little one-horse farm. - - These trials lasted just a year, - The coast again seemed getting-clear, - When all at once the whooping-cough - Attacked and nearly took me off. - For nine long weeks I whooped and choked, - While mother nursed and father joked-- - He was always great to jest and pun, - And turn all troubles into fun-- - He said the _crisis_ now was here, - And we had nothing worse to fear. - - Alas! his jesting hopes were vain, - The whooping-cough did not remain, - But measles next came breaking out, - The pimples showing, little doubt, - Another siege was mine to bear. - “To all the ills that flesh was heir,” - I felt my infant lot was given, - And really wished I was in heaven. - - But quiet comfort did arrive, - And I began to grow and thrive, - And ma and pa could take their rest, - And thought themselves supremely blest. - Just then I first began to talk; - At later date, I learned to walk; - But stammered out my early say, - And stumbled on my infant way, - Till one bright morn in early June, - A baby “brought in a balloon,” - Unjoints my little Grecian nose, - My infant ire at once arose. - - Our family now was much too large, - And then it was a fearful charge - For mother, who had much to do. - I’d try to put the baby through. - I’d feel its tiny foot, and sly - Would pinch or scratch, and make it cry, - Or rub its head, with look so meek, - And pull its hair or pinch its cheek; - And mother would at once begin - To look for the offending pin, - That made the “baby waby” shriek, - Ne’er dreaming it was Bessie’s freak. - - So, at the early age of three, - Being bad as bad could be, - I never was a minute mute, - And people thought me smart and cute; - The baby was, I’m glad to say, - More good and quiet in its way-- - Not half the trouble I had been-- - Unless I stuck it with a pin, - Or rocked it hard, and made it cry, - You scarce would know the babe was by. - - So time rolled on, and I intent - On infant mischief, came and went, - Till little sister learned to talk. - ’Twas I that taught her first to walk; - She’d tumble down--I’d pull her through - And scold her well, and shake her too. - Then she would totter on and cry, - While I would chase a butterfly, - And leave her standing in the lane, - A-wondering when I’d come again. - - Around the barn we used to roam, - Or any place away from home; - We hand-in-hand would tramp and play, - From early morn till close of day, - Upsetting all the honest nests - That enterprising hens possessed, - And loving little ducks to death, - And out of chickens squeeze the breath, - Till mother’d come and frown and fuss, - And father, too, to save a muss. - - Then homeward bound you’d see us go, - The family party in a row, - But I was nearly always last, - For when my penitence was past, - I stopped at times upon the way, - To finish my neglected play; - And father laughed and mother’d scold - About the black sheep of the fold. - - Thus matters stood when I was five, - The hardest little case alive. - We spent the hottest summer days - Working hard at baby-plays, - Making pies of mud and clay, - Hauling sand and dirt away; - Through grass and puddles we would wade, - Till we a hill or ditch had made. - With muddy dresses, tousled hair, - And dirty faces, we’d repair - From lane to road, from road to lane, - Through dirt and dust, through sun and rain. - - Our infant lives were passing by, - When all at once, we scarce knew why, - A shadow came upon our home, - And all our household filled with gloom. - Our father, ever good and kind, - Was taken from our midst, to find - A better home beyond the skies, - Which lasting happiness supplies, - And mother and five little ones - Were left to tread the world alone. - - But blessings came from every friend - That could a kind assistance lend; - Our lot, though lonely, sad, and scant, - Was brightened and relieved from want - For kindred hearts, with willing hand, - Gave shelter to our orphan band. - Our home, of course, must scattered be - To suit the sad emergency. - Our little circle’s severed ties - Dimmed my mother’s loving eyes, - But still her grateful heart was glad - To know the help and hope we had. - - I thought in this extremity, - There’d be a wondrous rush for me, - That I’d be claimed by all our kin, - But found myself quite taken in. - My country aunts took all the rest, - Though, after all, we fared the best. - The oldest boy, my brother Joe, - Who helped my father plough and hoe, - Was my especial pet and pride, - Now, since brother Sam had died. - - So, when my city aunt arrived - To take her pick, at once, I strived - To be selected as her choice, - For Joe was pet among the boys, - And then we could together go, - The city sights each other show. - - So, sure enough, our aunty came - A-riding grandly up the lane, - And caught me in my dishabille, - Much against my wayward will; - For I had hoped she’d find me clean, - That she might then and there have seen - How well I’d look in city guise. - Why did she take me by surprise? - - The Diamond State was then our home, - And aunty came from Quakerdom, - A-looking prim and quite severe, - But still, I felt I needn’t fear, - For I had much to recommend - My ladyship, you may depend. - I dressed myself with special care, - And put on quite a company air; - And, strutting past my maiden aunt, - I wondered what more she could want; - She put her specs upon her nose, - And closely scanned my country clothes, - And asked if I was always good; - Never naughty, pert, or rude. - I shunned her kind but searching eye, - And half resolved, I’d not reply, - As I had nothing good to tell, - My silence might do just as well. - I thought she’d find out, soon enough, - My manners were a little rough, - And did not want to disenchant - My new-made friend, and city aunt. - - So, looking meek and kind of shy, - I paused, before I made reply; - Then told her sometimes I was bad, - But blamed the company that I had; - ’Twas never any fault of mine, - If ever I cut up a shine, - And any mischief that was done - Was nearly always just for fun. - - So aunty smiled, and hoped I’d be - A little lady, and she’d see - If she could take me up to town, - And try to tone my manners down. - I then, at once, desired to know, - If she couldn’t take my brother, Joe. - She said she rather thought she would, - If both would promise to be good. - So off, in haste, I quickly ran, - To tell of aunty’s pleasant plan, - To dream of city’s new delights, - And think of all the wondrous sights - That soon would greet our verdant eyes - And fill our hearts with glad surprise. - So, then we soon began to pack-- - Our outfit most was on our back-- - Our trunks and traps were small and few, - Which, fortunately, aunty knew. - - So, on a balmy, summer day, - We all prepared to start away - To leave our home and mother, kind, - And in the world our lot to find; - When will life ever seem as bright - As that receding from our sight? - So, slowly riding down the lane - We ne’er could call our own again, - Poor mother wept in silent woe, - But thought it best for us to go. - - So, next you’ll see the orphan pair - In the midst of city’s stifled air; - No fields, no lanes, no trees to climb, - A-wondering how we’d kill the time. - What earthly goods we’d gladly give, - To get back home again to live! - Our aunty, sensible and kind, - Told us to leave regrets behind, - And, in her wise and pleasant way, - Informed us, life was not all play. - - But childhood’s troubles seldom last - Much longer than the cause is past. - The city soon began to be - A wonder and a joy to me; - My aunty got me pretty clothes - And taught me how to turn my toes; - She’d dress me up so clean and sweet - And send me out into the street. - I’d miss the “pies” and “puddles” there - And to the gutters I’d repair, - And play and paddle there in glee, - Till I was summoned in to tea. - - My vixen spirit, as of old, - New mischief daily would unfold, - And aunty shuddered, as she saw - How little I respected law; - So, wishing me to live by rule, - She entered me, at once, in school. - - -SCHOOL LIFE. - - One Monday morn in early Fall - We made the nearest school a call, - To ascertain if they would take - A pupil willing to forsake - All mischief and frivolity, - And strictly stick to A, B, C. - - The teacher showed a little doubt-- - She saw how I began to pout; - I did not like the busy looks - Of slates and pencils, chalk and books-- - I felt I’d much prefer to be - A stranger to my A, B, C. - - I knew more now, at any rate, - Than many children did at eight, - Then why should I, that was so smart, - Go learning lessons all by heart? - I showed my feelings in my face, - And aunty, vexed at my disgrace, - At once enrolled my naughty name - Upon the future book of fame. - - I then and there began to climb - The hill of science; oh! the time - It took to teach me how to do; - But I fought it out, and struggled through. - The teacher seldom suited me-- - Indeed, we never could agree; - Her notions always seem so queer, - I wondered why they put her there; - And aunty, too, was odd as she, - Both seemed to be opposed to me. - I felt if ever I grew big, - I’d love to give them both a dig. - - At times my patience would give out; - You couldn’t play a bit without - At once, she’d raise an awful fuss-- - A little laugh would make a muss. - You couldn’t talk in any peace, - But you’d be told at once to cease, - And look upon your book or slate, - Or be kept in till awful late, - You even couldn’t turn around, - No matter what the sight or sound - That made you want to look behind-- - You might have just as well been blind, - Or deaf and dumb, for all she cared-- - She always kept you kind of scared. - - No matter what you had to say, - She’d surely look another way, - And talk and teach, and teach and talk; - Slate and pencil, book and chalk; - Were ever at her finger ends-- - I wonder she had any friends. - Indeed, she hadn’t many there, - Except the good girls round her chair. - They seemed to think her very nice; - I wished they’d taken my advice, - And never mind a word she said; - They soon would found, what motive led - Her to appear so sweet to them, - And that she wasn’t such a gem. - - She had a special spite at me, - The reason why I couldn’t see; - She’d scold me soundly every day, - Whether I would work or play; - And then she’d often keep me in, - For just a little bit of sin, - That no one else would scarcely see-- - She was just as mean as mean could be. - - If it hadn’t been for family pride, - I think I’d left that school or died; - But aunty thought it best to stay, - And she nearly always had her way. - So there I was for one long year, - And then I left without a tear. - I’d learned to read and write and spell, - Indeed, they said I studied well. - My failing was behaving bad, - At least that’s what the teacher said; - But she was always saying things, - And telling tales that trouble brings. - I’ve left her class, I’m glad to say-- - I’ll try a new one now to-day. - - Alas, a-lack-a-day--ah! me, - I fear we too will disagree; - There’s much that’s new I want to know, - And ask the girls if they will show - Exactly how the things are done, - Besides we want a little fun, - Just to cheer us as we learn-- - The teachers are so stiff and stern, - I wouldn’t be one for a farm-- - They do the children so much harm; - Though aunty said to-night at tea - That’s what she’s going to make of me. - I don’t know what I’ve ever done - To her, indeed to any one, - That I should suffer such a fate, - Or learn a trade I love to hate. - - I tell you what, when I get big, - You’ll see me dance a different jig; - I won’t be sober, staid, and stern, - And try to make the children learn. - Poor little things, I’ll let them be, - Remembering how it was with me. - Just worry, lecture, preach, and scold, - Enough to make a young one old. - At school and home I had no rest, - Was always getting blamed or blest, - And mostly too without a cause, - Just for breaking little laws, - That never should, by rights, been made, - Nor never would by Bessie’s aid. - - So, thus my early life was spent, - From class to class I yearly went; - Each teacher seemed to be my foe, - And quite content to have me go; - But still I had my share of fun, - In spite of all the scolding done. - In tricks and pranks I took delight, - And misbehaved with all my might; - In tact and lessons I excelled, - Or I should long since been expelled. - The merits that I got to-day - To-morrow’s marks would wipe away. - - But, at the end of every term, - Remorse and resolution firm - Would fill me with a new desire; - But “all the fat was in the fire” - The minute mischief crossed my way, - Which it, alas! did every day. - - Thus school life, with its hopes and fears-- - At least the first short seven years-- - Was drawing nearly to a close, - When, all at once, the question rose-- - What should next be done with me. - The teachers gladly did agree, - That I should try my luck and leave-- - The high-school might my name retrieve. - So I studied hard, both night and day, - (But leisure took for fun and play), - Till testing time, with questions hard, - Brought me my happy hope’s reward. - I did not pass with honors high-- - I guess you know the reason why; - But still I passed, and was content, - And to my laurels proudly went, - And talked as big and looked as wise - As those that got the highest prize; - And felt it was a happy school, - Possessing such a precious jewel. - - So, at the age of green fourteen, - I felt as proud as any queen. - A new leaf I resolved to turn, - And study hard and laurels earn; - I stood quite high for one so young, - And could I only held my tongue - I might have been almost a star, - But mischief would my merits mar; - For what I gained by work and tact, - I’d loose by some rebellious act: - I sacrificed myself to fun-- - My ablest efforts were undone - By some wild freak or fractured rule, - That put me down a dot in school. - - I soon began, as heretofore, - To find the teachers quite a bore, - In interfering all the time-- - Indeed it seems a chronic crime, - To be officious and prevent - The pleasures that were my intent. - They so delight in being dry - And dull and stiff. I wonder why? - They looked with frowning doubt and dread - On every thing I did and said. - At times they’d give a sickly smile - At my peculiar wayward style; - But in a moment they would be - A-pointing morals all at me. - - As we were taught full forty things, - With names as long as corset strings, - And teachers stern and dignified, - I future punishment denied. - I felt we had our troubles here, - And naught to come was aught to fear. - - Away into the quiet night - I’d pore and ponder by the light - That poets call the “midnight oil,” - Some crooked problem to uncoil, - Or draw a map, or parse a verse, - Or write an essay, which was worse, - Or worry with celestial globes-- - The very thought my bosom probes - With recollections full of woe. - What good is it for us to know - That Mars has belts or Saturn rings-- - A thousand other different things? - That don’t concern this world at all, - Nor never have since Adam’s fall. - - Then scanning Milton through and through - Is what I did despise to do; - Nor did I care a single dime - If all his blank verse had been rhyme, - Or was awry or wrong in rhythm, - Or had it been with him--in Heaven. - That Paradise was lost I knew-- - I never doubted it was true; - Then why extend the dreary tale, - To worry pupils--maid and male? - Mythology and classic lore - Is such an everlasting bore. - - The other poets we’d dissect, - And try their metre to correct-- - And murder many of their lays - So sadly that it would amaze - The sainted soul, could it but know - The scandalous scanning done below! - - Then algebra, with _x_ and _z_, - Would always vex and puzzle me, - And make me wish that each equation - Was in the sea, with mensuration. - I’d sigh and cipher for an hour, - And long for calculating power - To get the cube root or the square, - Or puzzle out the proper share - That A and B would have to get - In value either gross or net. - - Then hunting rivers, lakes, and bays, - And telling all their different ways - Of rising, flowing, and their end, - Or with what waters they may blend; - And all their lengths and widths and size, - And what each state or town supplies, - Of products, imports, exports, ores - That yearly pass its special shores. - - Ah me! the mountains I would climb - To find the height, and what a time - I’ve had with longitudes and poles, - Enough to try poor pupils’ souls-- - And tropics, latitudes, and zones, - That gave me geographic groans. - And then we had to daily tell - The capitals and towns as well, - Of territories and of states, - And give in full the different dates - Of settlements and civil wars, - And then we’d have five minutes pause, - Before our history began. - Thus our daily duties ran. - - We never knew an hour’s peace; - For if we weren’t in Rome or Greece, - Discussing troubles old and stale, - Some insurrection to bewail, - We’d have our massacres at home, - To fill our hearts with bygone gloom, - Rebellions, riots, rows, and wars, - Breaking all the country’s laws; - But then that was so long ago, - I hardly think we need to know - All those troubles that are past, - It’s bad enough to know the last. - - And then I think it’s really vile - To take us through the British isle, - And worry o’er her wars and woes, - Her usurpations, overthrows, - Her kings and queens both killed and crowned. - We’ll never get a single pound, - For all our interest in their fate, - No matter how large their estate. - - I’m tired now of history. - I’ve learned it all, and can not see - Why we have to know so much - About the English, French, and Dutch, - And all these men of ancient times, - Their virtue, valor, and their crimes. - We have as many of to-day - As we can well their traits portray. - Then why go back to ages past - To get our heroes for a cast? - Or worry o’er the wars of yore, - When we can have them at our door, - Green and fresh, of recent date, - In our own land, indeed our state? - - What trials teachers do invent. - They never seem to be content - Without a torture of some kind - To agitate the pupil’s mind. - And as for rest or idle hours, - The very thought their temper sours. - But study early, study late, - Things you like and things you hate; - Study hard and study long, - Whether you are weak or strong. - - I tried my best to keep my brain - Healthy, sound, and free from pain; - I never had it suffer aught - From exercise of weighty thought. - All extra care and overwork, - My great ambition was to shirk; - To save the tissues of my mind, - I’ve always been somewhat inclined! - I’d study just to struggle through, - But not enough to make me blue, - Nor any recreation miss, - Which now I think accounts for this - Entire health which is my boast, - That over study might have lost. - - In moderation thus I went - From grade to grade, and was content. - In tricks and trifling, mirth and fun, - Was always passing number one. - The teachers vexed at every turn, - And wanting me to leave or learn, - Would often help me gladly through - Their special class into a new, - Thus hoping then and there to find - More occupation for my mind, - And for themselves relief and rest. - How little my adieus distressed; - For those bereft of such a prize - Looked coolly on with driest eyes! - - Once or twice I skipped a grade, - And cast the good girls in the shade, - Thus rid that teacher most entire - Of all the mischief I’d inspire; - ’Twas less in learning than in luck, - Together with my tact and pluck, - That helped me prematurely through, - But that is nothing odd or new. - - I gushed as much at my advance - As though it was no game of chance, - And never hinted in the least, - As honors on me so increased, - ’Twas troubled teachers pushing me - To get me through thus rapidly. - - So thus, for two years and a half-- - I think of it, and have to laugh-- - I spent the chequered, closing days - Of school life, with its blame and praise, - Till all at once the president, - On my departure firmly bent, - Informed me I must now begin - My graduating bays to win. - He seemed quite glad to have me leave, - Indeed, there’s no one seemed to grieve - About my going at this date, - So I resolved to graduate. - - My parting essay now I write, - And try sad feelings to excite. - I use the most pathetic strain, - As though I’d willingly remain - To share those sweet scholastic joys - That leaving school at once destroys. - I tried to make their bosoms sigh - For blessings now about to fly. - - But, ah! alas, what cool content - My phrases to their faces lent! - I sadly spoke of happy scenes - Of school life, with its hopes and dreams, - Of patient teachers, just and kind, - And wondered if we’d ever find - In life again, such friends as these, - (And, aside, I thought) as hard to please. - - I really felt it was a time - When I should utter thoughts sublime, - But no one seemed to be disposed - To feel the slightest discomposed; - Nor could I hear a sob or sigh, - Or see a single moistened eye! - - Each teacher that I left behind - Seemed reconciled and well resigned - To hear my valedictory read, - And every parting word I said - Gave pleasure, I could plainly see, - To all the high-school faculty. - - That day in June I’ll ne’er forget, - Their happy faces haunt me yet. - So eager, anxious, and content, - To lose a light, ’twas only lent. - I felt their hearts were made of stone, - To be so glad when I was gone. - Our president, so mild and meek, - So happy was, he scarce could speak; - He said my _welfare_ was his aim, - But now my _farewell_ was the same! - So I hurriedly my parchment drew, - And bid the _happy_ school adieu. - - -GIRLHOOD. - - Thus I left those hallowed halls, - Its blackboards and its pictured walls, - With maps and charts of every size, - To torture brain and tease the eyes; - And fondly fancied I was through; - I knew twice now what others knew, - And all I had to do was show - My talents off, and catch a beau. - - What consternation then was mine, - When aunt’s original design - Was carried out, to have me teach-- - I’d almost rather beg or preach; - But as it was her great desire, - And as I had no wealthy sire, - My talents must my banker be-- - So I took a class in A, B, C. - - Again I must divide my time, - between a share of prose and rhyme; - I taught all day which was my prose-- - The rhyme in evening, was my beau. - My daily duties never flagged, - But evening callers often lagged; - I’d wonder too how they could know - My many charms and tarry so! - - How often evenings I have sat, - Impromptu welcomes all so pat; - I’d tell the girl to say “I’m home,” - Alas the callers never come! - And I would sit and read a book, - I’d read before, and never look - Disconcerted or annoyed, - Till evening hopes were all destroyed. - Then, disappointed, I’d retire, - And try to think of something higher, - But bitter pangs would rend my heart, - And dreams and nightmares make me start. - - Sometimes a beau would happen in, - And make me most commit a sin, - By seeming very much surprised, - When really I had half surmised - That he was coming for a week-- - But this was just a girlish freak. - - They really ought to like to come, - I made them feel so much at home; - They seemed so happy while they stayed, - And left reluctantly, they said; - And I would often think it true, - And show my sorrow--wouldn’t you? - - But, ah, alas! I soon began - To see the sad deceit of man; - I’d sit and watch and wait in vain, - My nose against the window-pane, - Or listen with an anxious spell, - To hear the ringing of the bell, - And bless the beggar that would dare, - To waken hope and bring despair! - - Thus matters stood at seventeen-- - An age that’s always noted been - For sunny happiness and joys-- - And so would mine, but for the boys; - The very ones that suited me, - My aunty never seemed to see - With loving eyes as I desired, - And those she liked I ne’er admired; - And when we did on one agree - He hardly ever fancied me! - - The scrapes and troubles I have had, - Enough to make a martyr sad; - These sorrows didn’t happen once, - But worried me for weeks and months. - At last becoming better known, - New suitors I began to own, - And having more, had bitter choice - And had occasion to rejoice - That I was blest with lots of beaus, - But none seemed anxious to propose. - They’d come and go with thoughtless air, - And I, pretending not to care, - Would bid them welcome and adieu, - As sweet and kind as if I knew - Their very heart-throb was for me-- - Their lives one line of constancy! - - How many sorry sighs I’ve had - About a wayward truant lad, - How oft “unwisely but too well,” - Would love assert its magic spell, - And hold my heart so tight and strong-- - I’m glad it never lasted long! - - I’ve thought at times I couldn’t live, - Unless Augustus would forgive - The little pique I showed last night, - Done really more in love than spite. - I’ve gone to bed and tried to weep - Myself into a troubled sleep; - But oft the sorrow I’d forget, - Before I found my eyes were wet! - Or Morpheus would my senses blind, - And leave love’s trials all behind. - - How kind in Nature to prepare - A heart elastic, that can bear - The miseries and weighty woes - That must attend the age of beaus. - For, with so many different kind, - You couldn’t well make up your mind, - Especially when you didn’t know - Which was destined for your beau. - To wait and wait, and then to find - The wrong one is the one inclined - To breathe his hopes into your ears, - A nuisance is that seldom cheers. - - Just after such a blow as this, - I thought I saw much future bliss, - In a student of the “nobby” kind, - So rich and handsome and refined. - But, oh, dear me! my brief delight - Was shattered by his getting tight, - And a love of fully thirty days - Was checked by aunt in many ways. - I thought at last it might be best - To let my student lover rest. - - My next, an artist proud and poor, - By chance then living in next door, - Was always at my beck and call, - Which aunty didn’t like at all-- - She said he was a fop and dandy. - To me he was so nice and handy, - And then so pleasant and polite, - We had engagements every night; - Till all at once my artist beau - Was told by aunt ’twas best to go-- - The love that lasted three long months - Was crushed and killed by her at once. - - And then I had an interval - Of several weeks in which to fill - The place of lovers I had lost-- - But no one knew the pain it cost, - And nothing but a handsome clerk - I chanced to meet while at his work, - Could make amends for all my woes; - But he, alas! did not propose. - I think he would, but times were hard, - Which often happy hopes retard. - I, knowing this, would not allow - Him any chance to make a vow, - For poverty, though not a crime, - Has always been a dread of mine. - His handsome eyes and wavy hair, - Were great temptations I declare; - And then his love was firm and true - But he hadn’t cash enough for two. - So we sighed in silence o’er our fate, - And wisely thought it best to wait-- - The other callers too seemed slow, - I’ve often wondered why ’twas so. - - I had no wealth, or charms to praise; - But, then, I had such “winning ways,” - That ought to take, and may-be will-- - At least I won’t give up until - I hear from some more hopeful source, - All true love has a crooked course. - I know the chap I’d like to catch-- - I think ’twould be a splendid match-- - I wonder what he thinks of me? - I’ll wait a while and we will see; - He has a tender sort of way - When he wishes me to sing or play; - And, when the hour comes to leave, - He often looks disposed to grieve. - - He’s handsome, too, but awful shy, - Has such a melting, mellow eye, - It makes me reconciled to wait - If just to see, at any rate, - If time won’t ripen his desire, - And sparks of love for me inspire; - And while I wait he’ll never know - I ever wished to have a beau. - - Here twice this week, I do declare, - And took me out once to the fair; - I really think he’s coming round, - So I’ll keep cool and hold my ground; - Should he propose, I’ll show surprise, - And stammer, No, with drooping eyes: - That’s the way they do in books, - Nor show their haste by eager looks; - I hope he won’t discover mine, - Nor take in earnest my decline, - It really wasn’t _final_, nay, - It only meant a slight delay - In making up my maiden mind, - And, in repeating he will find - That after the surprise was o’er, - I’d “love and honor and adore.” - - But blessed luck, and happy fate, - That didn’t give me long to wait. - One quiet eve, in early fall, - He came, and made a lovely call; - No other beaus that night appeared, - As both of us at first had feared; - And aunty being out of town, - We didn’t dread her maiden frown. - So being favored thus by fate, - His smothered love he did relate. - Our happiness and new-made bliss - Was sanctioned by the sealing kiss. - - I quite forgot the sighs and looks - So recommended in the books, - And answered, Yes, without delay - Or looking once another way. - He found I wasn’t hard to woo, - My answer came so frank and true; - For when you’re suited, what’s the sense - Of being kept in such suspense, - Till silly rules of etiquette - Love’s happy longings all upset? - - That evening Cupid’s capers thrived, - Till all at once my aunt arrived; - I fear we guilty look and feel, - Our awkward actions can’t conceal - How matters stand, but I will try - By tact detection to defy. - We treat each other calmly cool, - Talk carelessly of church and school, - Or any subject but the one - That we have just agreed upon. - To please my aunty’s prudish ear, - We shunned the theme to us so dear, - Till passing hours in hasty flight, - Suggest to us a sad good-night. - - Now he is gone--how queer I feel! - I wish I only dared reveal - My pent up joy unto my aunt; - I want to, but I really can’t. - She always seemed to like this beau - As well as any that I know, - But then she never thought that he - Would ever care a fig for me; - And now I fear that when she finds - He really loves and has designs, - She might at once discover flaws - To cause her to object or pause, - And then what misery would be mine - No heart could know or tongue define. - - The fearful Rubicon is past; - I’ve told her all--her sanction asked, - And she consents--most strange to tell, - I find my suitor suits her well; - But wonders what he e’er could see - In such a wayward girl as me. - Indeed, I’ve often wondered too, - Though other people never knew, - But what I thought I was a prize; - Nor did my suitor e’er surmise-- - He thought me all that he desired; - That trait in him I so admired! - - For total blindness in a beau - Is one the best gifts that I know; - So, feeling so secure in this, - We might have lived a life of bliss, - But for a couple other beau, - Who thought at once that they’d propose; - They never dreamed of it before, - Nor would till they had been four score. - If I had still kept “fancy free,” - They never would have fancied me. - “It seldom rains but what it pours”-- - Too many beaus are often bores. - I cutely kept my matters mum, - But found it truly troublesome; - I told them I was nothing loth - To love, indeed to marry, both-- - For still on mischief I was bent, - And seldom said a word I meant; - Must ever have my share of fun - At sad expense of “number one.” - - I really felt, I blush to tell, - That I was getting quite a “belle,” - And could afford to put on airs, - When offers tackled me in pairs! - And then, too, I had been so fast - In saying yes, that I would blast - Those tender hopes I lately made-- - Two lovers cast one in the shade. - - I timed my hours to see them all, - Preventing, thus, a lover’s squall, - And thought my wits were working fine, - When, all at once, that aunt of mine - Commenced, she said, “to smell a rat,” - And then we had a lively spat. - I hardly need to tell the rest-- - For aunty always came out best-- - And I was then obliged to be - Content with one, instead of three, - And though I loved the first one well, - I missed the two, I blush to tell. - If aunty hadn’t been so queer, - I’d had three lovers all the year, - But now I stuck to number one, - And left the other two undone. - - And neither of them seemed to die, - I can not tell the reason why; - They nearly always do in books, - Or turn out bad, which I think looks - More in keeping with their grief. - I wonder how they got relief? - Indeed, I hear they’re living yet, - And doing well, and their regret - Lasted but a little while, - And terminated in _a smile_ - That they had missed the happy chance-- - That wasn’t my fault, but my aunt’s. - - But dear devoted number one - Forgave the flirting I had done, - And now, as always, I could see - How much too good he was for me. - At once I thought, with aunty’s aid, - I’d try to settle, and be staid, - Becoming worthy of so fine - And noble-hearted beau as mine. - - How easy ’tis for folks to talk, - But oh! how hard to walk the chalk. - The only hope that I could find - Was keeping my beloved blind, - An easy task, I’m glad to say. - Till he wanted me to “name the day,” - So what’s the use of waiting now - For consummation of our vow, - When heart and hand and ready will - Are longing for us to fulfill - That little form and loving rite - That permanently hearts unite? - So I shall name an early day, - And wed at once, without delay. - My trousseau won’t be much to get; - Indeed, I’m never one to fret - About apparel new and fine, - Or try my neighbors to outshine. - And then, too, meaning no offense, - To teachers in the abstract sense, - Light and slender was my purse. - To some, I know, that’s quite a curse; - To me, it being nothing new, - My wants were rather small and few. - - My preparations soon were done, - Interspersed with lots of fun; - My wedding day was near at hand - And I was feeling mighty grand. - And each of my “five hundred friends” - Got tickets, and the fête attends; - I, robed in white, with fleecy veil, - With orange wreath and courtly trail, - Fancied that, at my levee - They’d all admire and envy me; - But strange to say, I never heard - The very first admiring word! - - But then the guests, the gifts, the ring, - And all the joys that weddings bring-- - A sweetish scare, I must confess, - Was mingled with my happiness. - I could not see the sense of tears, - When I had been, for several years, - Just waiting for this happy day, - To give my willing self away; - Yet still I trembled as I swore, - “To love and honor and adore.” - - My single friends, that disbelieve - My statements, I will give them leave - To marry for themselves, and see - How scared and happy they will be; - My married ones already know - That what I’ve said is really so. - - The altar often ends the tale-- - The fair one then, that we assail, - Is shelved at once, and cast aside - As soon as she is made a bride; - Now, twenty years of merry life - Is passed--I became a wife. - The “Naughty” heroine, you see, - Has finished her “Biography.” - - -A “GOOD BYE”-OGRAPHY. - - I’ll say a few words at the close, - In case discussions ever rose - About my traits in after life-- - I mean when I became a wife. - A lenient husband’s charity, - In trust and boundless love for me, - O’erlooked my early erring ways, - And filled my ear with daily praise. - Indulgent friends would kindly say - Such pleasant things most every day, - And looked so mildly on my mirth, - It made me overrate my worth, - And feel reformed, as aunty quotes, - “That I have sown my wildest oats.” - The stern realities of life - Will sober down the gayest wife. - The cares and crosses surely come - To cloud, at times, the brightest home; - And mine was not exempt from these, - For sighs and sorrows and disease - Were all, in turn, my painful lot-- - ’Twere better though they were forgot. - I’ll finish in the brightest strain, - Nor have my friends peruse, with pain, - A _clouded_ page, when my intent - Was solely for their merriment; - They’ll see how short _these_ twenty years, - Beside the first, in print appears. - The reason ’s easy understood: - The traits depicted here are _good_, - And occupy a smaller space - Than _wicked_ ones I had to trace. - I wanting quite a good sized book, - My sinnings and short comings took - The other side, I do engage, - Would hardly fill the second page. - I’ll say, for fear my friends deplore, - These vixen traits are mine no more; - The heroine, once known as “Naughty,” - Is now reformed--“fair, fat, and forty.” - - -[Illustration: The heroine, once known as “Naughty,” Is now -reformed--“fair, fat, and forty.”] - - - - -MISCELLANEOUS. - - -THE VILLAGE BELLE. - - A verdant youth of modest mien - Fell in love with the village queen, - When strolling through the clover; - And in his homely honest way - Rudely coined what he would say, - And how he’d always love her. - - He looked in her coquettish eye, - With hope and fear for her reply; - But she so careless seeming, - Scarce listened to his honeyed words, - But turned their sweetness into curds, - And woke him from his dreaming. - - She laughed aloud, with merry glee, - At the very thought of such as he - Presuming to the honor - Of loving her, the village belle; - Indeed, his feelings he must quell, - Nor force his love upon her. - - There were a dozen love-sick swains - Awaiting to blow out their brains - When she refused affection; - Which, of course, she would to all but one, - And when the others’ fates were known, - They’d die of deep dejection. - - She would not wed a _country_ lad, - Did she want a husband e’er so bad-- - She sighed for _city_ suitors; - Uriah’s hopes were sadly crushed, - His tender words at once were hushed, - Her wishes were his tutors. - - There’s Harry Banks just fresh from Yale, - Who’s apt and easy at the tale - That Cupid first invented; - He doesn’t blush or stammer through, - As though the art were strange and new, - Act awkward or demented; - - But takes the favored fair one’s hand, - With melting looks and accents bland, - He tells his heart’s emotion; - And though he’s often tight, they say, - I like his jovial, genial way, - His lover-like devotion. - - I really think my choice is made - In favor of the college blade; - And, though a reckless rover, - I vow his wild and winning ways - Would any maiden’s fancy daze - That craved a dashing lover. - - He’ll sow his “wild oats” soon, I know, - And then he’s such a “nobby” beau, - I feel I’m blest to get him; - And Oh, the gay, bright city life, - That will be mine, when I’m his wife, - And the girls that will regret him. - - So argued our fair village belle, - And wed the dashing college swell, - And left our poor Uriah, - And all the other sighing swains, - Whose hearts had turned their youthful brains. - And set their souls on fire. - - But ah, alas! one little year, - Has changed her happiness to care, - And time too soon discloses, - By sunken cheek and saddened eye, - Her heavy heart and stifled sigh, - Her bed is not of roses. - - The dashing beau of other days, - Has lost his soft persuasive ways; - Her city life and lover - Are but a myth to what they seemed, - As she in girlish fancy dreamed, - When strolling ’midst the clover. - - -ST. VALENTINE DAY. - - This season of old, - We’ve often been told, - Was the time of all others - For youth to be bold; - So the brave and the fair - May venture to dare, - Like the birds of the air, - Their feelings unfold. - - This day of the year, - To the young very dear, - Suggests to the heart - A sweet happiness near; - And a hope bright and gay, - May tempt them to say, - On St. Valentine’s Day, - Words tender and queer. - - Shy lovers, begin, - Faint hearts never win, - Nor is it a sin - To love wisely and well; - And the coy and the fair - May be yearning to hear, - At least once a year, - What a lover might tell. - - So, gents, your attention; - I beg you will mention - To the fair of your choice - Your honest intention; - And should she reject you, - Don’t let it deject you, - But think it an ounce - Of healthy prevention. - - They say Cupid’s arrows - Pierce even the sparrows; - The thought surely harrows - The youth of to-day; - For who with right reason, - In love-making season, - Would like by the birds - To be “given away?” - - -THE RAINY DAY. - - The gentle rain that softly falls, - Befriending earth and ocean, - Awakens many a happy thought, - As well as sad emotion. - It tells of changing Nature’s tears, - That fall to freshen beauty; - It teaches us that gloomy hours - May darken pleasant duty. - - Tearful times must come to all, - And joy be mixed with sadness; - Our years are not one summer dream, - Our hearts one glow of gladness; - But like the gentle rain to earth, - Bereaving while it brightens, - A few dark days, in every life, - Each coming blessing heightens. - - We greet the golden sunshine more, - That follows after showers, - Just as we welcome happiness - Succeeding dreary hours; - Were years continued summer time, - Or filled with constant glory, - Were Nature always in her prime, - And life one cloudless story, - We’d poorly prize the blessings sent-- - No contrast to create content. - - -AUTUMN. - - I love to live in autumn days, - To linger in their balmy haze, - To ponder in a dreamy maze, - Upon their many glories. - I love to watch the setting sun, - To see the stars come one by one, - And fade away when they are done, - Telling their nightly story. - - I love sweet autumn’s golden hours, - Though chilling winds and fading flowers, - Tell of Nature’s waning powers, - Still I love the season; - They speak of ripeness, ere decay - Has swept their beauties all away; - The change of leaf from green to gray - Must charm the dullest reason. - - The garnered grain, the golden sheaf, - The varied bough, the yellow leaf, - Teem with beauties, all too brief, - That vanish as we view them. - I’d have the autumn’s gentle sway - Control the year from June to May; - I’d have its glories ne’er decay, - Nor winter snows to strew them. - - -OCTOBER. - - This golden month, with varied leaves, - So full of waning glories, - Adorns the groves that it bereaves, - And fills the woods with stories - Of fleeting verdure, fading flowers-- - Dying Nature’s empty bowers. - - It stills the birds and chills the air, - It scatters roses here and there, - Making bush and branches bare - Of foliage and beauty. - The verdant leaves of summer lie - Seared, beneath an autumn sky, - Left to wither and to die, - As Nature’s latest duty. - - -LOVE’S LONGINGS. - - I dream of thee in dewy hours, - I think of thee by day, - I muse upon thy winning powers, - When thou art far away. - I love to live in love with thee, - To watch thy pensive eye, - To linger in thy memory, - To soothe thy bosom’s sigh. - I fain would have thy love-lit face - Forever turned on me, - Oh, may we not in future trace - One common destiny? - And then together we could tread - Life’s flowery fields as one, - Dependent on each other’s love, - As earth is on the sun. - - Each joy in life would brighter be, - If thou wert always near, - And every sorrow lighter be, - If thou wert there to cheer. - So let me linger by thy side, - In love with thee alone, - Should fortune frown or ills betide, - Thy presence would atone. - - And blest and happy in thy smiles, - Despite of cross or care, - I’d pray for rare longevity, - Thy holy love to share. - And then when life should cease to be, - And _earthly_ love grow cold, - My songs throughout eternity - Should _angel_ love unfold. - - -SHE SLEEPS BENEATH THE ROSES. - - We bore our Bessie’s angel form, - Which now in death reposes, - To the silent grave, in summer days, - When earth was bathed in sunny rays, - When June birds sang their summer lays, - We laid her ’neath the roses. - - We watched the form we loved so well, - As the grave so greedy closes, - We heard the sod as it sadly fell, - A heartless tale it seemed to tell, - Its echo like a funeral knell, - Was heard among the roses. - - We turned away and left her there, - With flowers around, above her, - We breathed the soothing summer air, - Which bade us hope and hush despair, - We gave our child to angel care, - And trust to God to love her. - - We sought our sorrow-stricken home, - Which naught but grief discloses, - Each echo there repeats a groan, - Each merry laugh is now a moan, - For angel Bessie sleeps alone, - Beneath the summer roses. - - -NOVEMBER. - - The Autumn boughs are growing bare, - The leaves are changed and falling, - And dying nature everywhere - Obeys grim Winter’s calling; - The fields bereft of grass and grain, - The waving woods deserted, - The fountains gush, the songsters strain, - To wailing winds converted. - All nature frowns in drear dismay, - As Autumn beauties pass away. - - We see them all decay and die, - Each bud and tree and flower, - The trailing vines neglected lie, - Around the summer bower; - O’er slopes so lately pleasure’s haunts, - The withered leaves are blowing, - The broken branch, the barren bough - The sterile grounds are strewing; - Earth’s beauties vanish one by one, - As nature’s yearly race is run. - - November’s winds are bleak and cold, - Its skies are gray and dreary, - Its landscapes no delights unfold, - To rest the eye that’s weary. - There’s naught around, beneath, above, - But tells of fading glory, - Each lonely lawn, and leafless grove - Confirms the saddened story; - Earth sobs her grief, and Boreas sighs, - As changing Nature droops and dies. - - -GONE BLIND. - - An early friend, of brilliant mind, - In manhood’s summer stricken blind; - Earth’s beauties faded day by day, - Till views and visions passed away, - And left a blank in the midst of bloom-- - A spirit crushed in a life of gloom. - A heart bowed down in manly grief, - No hope of light to bring relief. - - His sun is set at early noon, - His rayless night ’s without a moon; - His life’s bright zenith ’s clouded o’er, - To him the stars will rise no more. - No sunny scenes illume his way, - The flowers bloom and then decay, - The planets daily set and rise - Before those yearning, sightless eyes. - - To him, all life is one long night, - The season’s change brings no delight; - His vacant orbs scan nothing new, - But stare in vain for one dim view - Of sights and scenes of other days, - When life was full of sunny rays; - He’d freely give all earthly gold - For one glad glimpse of scenes of old. - - Familiar faces, favorite friends, - That by his side in love attends; - What priceless gift ’twould be for him - To see those forms, though faint and dim; - To trace the features, watch the eye - Of loved ones, flitting fondly by, - And gaze upon her gentle face, - Whose charms e’en darkness can’t efface. - - Oh, could this dreary winter dream - Be gladdened by one golden gleam, - One sunbeam’s blessed brightening ray - Could turn this darkness into day. - But this eclipse, this sunless gloom, - That now makes life a living tomb, - May know no dawn till earthly night - Gives place to heaven’s eternal light. - - -LINES WRITTEN BY THE SEASIDE. - - As I sit by the seaside, - And watch the blue waves - On the boundless bright bosom of ocean, - The roar of the billows, - The sea as it raves, - Awaken ecstatic emotion. - - I long for the leisure - To stay by its side, - To linger in love by its beauties, - To listen entranced, - To gaze with delight, - And regret that I have other duties. - - I regret that dull life, - With its prosy routine, - Must claim my attention to-morrow; - That I must awake - From my bright ocean dream, - And leave the cool seaside in sorrow. - - This world of delight, - This home by the sea, - This hour so full of enjoyment, - How I wish that the future - Had nothing for me - But just such happy employment. - - I’d live by the sea, - All these long summer days - I’d watch the bright breakers at even, - I’d wander at twilight, - And silently gaze - On the beauties of ocean and heaven. - - Till Luna lends light - To the billowy scene, - That sparkles like gems in its glory; - As tipping the waves - With her silvery sheen. - She nightly renews her bright story. - - I’d gaze at the stars - In the heavens on high, - And list to the music of ocean, - Till the moan of the sea - And the zephyr’s soft sigh - Would turn my delight to devotion. - - I could muse on those orbs, - Thus mirrored by waves, - In revery live by the hour - By the side of the sea, - As it sighs or it raves, - And dream of Omnipotent power. - - -TWENTY SUMMERS. - -On our Daughter’s Birthday. - - Thy first bright twenty years have past, - And left an impress that will last - A lifetime on thy brow; - May the moulding of thy gentle face, - Which all the kindly feelings grace, - Be always calm as now! - - All nature’s noble gifts are thine, - So carry out her sweet design - In every new career; - Thus radiate delight around, - Make sunny happiness abound, - And bless each future sphere. - - Let every grace that now is thine - Be ripened by the hand of time, - Enriched by coming years; - Ennobled and refined by art, - That only culture can impart, - And moral worth endears. - - No idle ease nor empty hours - Should dwarf thy mind’s improving powers, - But live with earnest aim; - And strive each happy trait to woo, - Do nobly what thou hast to do, - And grace thy future name. - - -CHIDING “LOVE’S CHIDINGS.” - - The cruel word in anger spoken, - Has oft the loving heart near broken, - And left its sting for hours behind, - Upon some dear one’s troubled mind. - How many a day is clouded o’er, - And many a heart made sad and sore, - By thoughtless words that give us pain, - That ne’er can be recalled again! - - Our dearest friends should surely be - The ones the last our faults to see, - And then, all leniency and love, - Should by its blind devotion prove - How far above all other ties - In life, our home-hearts we should prize; - Our wedded love’s responsive thrill - Should be the same through good and ill. - - Away with love that’s only lent - Till all the summer hours are spent, - That fades and cools as cares increase, - That comes and goes with each caprice. - Ah! no, the love for which we yearn - Will through all age and error burn, - Will live and light our winter days, - And be the same in blame and praise. - - True love is trusting, patient, pure, - Is constant, kind, and will endure; - It never chides, but soothes the breast - That sighs for sympathy and rest. - One broken chord may wreck a life, - One angry word may start a strife, - And chill the love that early won, - That should be life’s domestic sun. - - -FOUND DROWNED. - - There drifted a form on the banks of a stream, - As pretty and fair as poet’s young dream; - With her worn, draggled dress and her small tattered shoes, - Her golden hair floating dishevelled and loose; - Her pale, haggard face, so sad in repose, - Told tales of a life beclouded by woes; - Her small dimpled hands lay listless and cold - Across her fair breast, where sorrows untold - Had made her young heart in misery old. - - Her poor glassy eyes, now death dimmed and blue, - Looked vacantly out, as if bidding adieu - To a world that had shunned her, to friends that denied - Love, kindness, and pity in self-righteous pride: - Who can she be, this fair one unknown, - Has she a history, has she a home? - Was life ever bright to her, friends ever kind? - Why did she seek thus oblivion to find-- - This blankness and Lethe for body and mind? - - Did nobody love her, did nobody wait - In crazy anxiety as to her fate? - Had she no father, no husband, no brother, - Had she no dear, tender sister or mother, - To watch for her coming and wonder and wait, - Impatient and anxious, because she’s so late? - And when she comes not, is there no one to miss her, - No one to seek her, to love her or kiss her? - Will nobody come to claim the fair clay, - Will friends all forsake her in doubt and dismay? - Must this disappointed, mistaken young life, - Gone out in its misery, not end the strife? - Will forgiveness not come, even if error were there, - To the clay of this victim of hopeless despair? - - Did life in its springtime to her seem so sad, - That living was sorrow? Ah, mayhap she had - Crushed hopes and affections too heavy to bear, - So she seeks dissolution in crazy despair. - To live would need courage, to die would end all, - So she leaps in the dark, e’er her Maker doth call. - “Found Drowned” is the verdict too sad to believe, - No kindred to sorrow, no loved ones to grieve, - Doomed to desertion, both living and dead, - No mourners to follow to the place she is laid; - By strangers she’s buried, unwept and unknown, - Thus ends a brief life, misery marked for its own. - - -THE DARK DAYS OF WINTER. - - As gloom gathers round, the dark days of winter, - And the season of shadows, beclouds the bright skies, - The heart becomes tinged with pensive emotions - As Nature, in mourning, thus withers and dies. - - We recall the sweet hours of retrospect pleasure, - Of green haunts of happiness--lately our own-- - Of gay, joyous scenes, and sweet summer fancies, - Engendered by beauty and brightness alone. - - Adieu to the charms of summer and autumn, - That each, in their turn, fill life with delight; - We love Nature, budding or blooming or ripened, - We cherish its beauties--regretting their flight. - - But the dark days of winter must come to the seasons, - That change, in their rounds, from the bright to the drear; - And, though we deplore their cold dullness and darkness, - We can’t hope for springtime all thro’ the year. - - These dull, dreary days, these clouds, gray and heavy, - That hang, like a pall, over Nature’s fair face, - But serve to enhance each gleam of gold sunshine, - When new-waking Nature its beauties retrace. - - -THE SONG OF THE SLUSH. - - The slush, the slush, the terrible slush, - That streams from each pore of the earth with a gush; - Impeding the travel, making walking a woe; - All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.” - - From each roof and tree, great drippings we see, - Making gutters and crossings quite up to the knee; - The sidewalks so icy, the pavements a show; - All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.” - - From the time that we leave the sill of the door, - “Eaves-droppings,” in torrents, all over us pour-- - Such splashing above, such slushing below; - All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.” - - Then we slip and we slide, as we try to proceed; - Tottering and trembling, like a wind-waving reed. - This icy mud-mixture makes traveling so slow; - All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.” - - The soot and the slush, the mud and the smoke, - Make that pure, pretty poem a dark, dirty joke; - With a nature poetic, we certainly know - No “Queen City” bard wrote “Beautiful Snow.” - - -BETRAYED. - - I knew a rustic beauty once, - A happy-hearted maiden, - Whose life seemed bright as summer days, - And as she watched the autumn rays, - With love of nature’s works and ways, - Her heart seemed always laden. - - She loved her quiet, rural home, - In all its sweet sedateness, - She’d stroll along with happy air, - Regardless of a coming care, - Supposing joy was everywhere, - And dream of future greatness. - - Her bright, blue eyes would seek the skies, - In wondering admiration, - She’d roam at will, from wood to hill, - Or sit and dream by rock and rill, - As if she yearned her soul to fill - With love of God’s creation. - - Could her young life ne’er known of strife, - Nor seen but rural beauties, - That happiness might still be hers, - Where anguish now her bosom stirs, - That always follows each that errs - Against life’s hallowed duties. - - A suitor came, in city guise, - A gay and dashing lover, - He woos this simple-hearted girl, - He tells her of the city’s whirl, - Where fascinations all unfurl, - And pleasure’s cup runs over. - - She soon would scorn these rustic scenes, - So tame to riper vision, - Her beauty buried out of sight, - Her love spent on some country wight, - Her life without one gay delight, - Would mark her future mission. - - She loving heard his dangerous words, - And, with fond trust believing, - She listened by her favorite stream - To tales of love that made life seem - Enchanting as a fairy dream, - Nor thought of his deceiving. - - She quit her happy, rural home, - To share his boasted pleasures. - Alas, her love was soon despised, - He left her e’er she had surmised - That he, bereft of all she prized, - Was least among her treasures. - - Crushed beneath that heavy blow, - She sank in deep dejection; - Her happiness is changed to tears, - Her purity to guilty fears, - Estranged each friendly face appears, - And dead each fond affection. - - His broken vows near drove her mad, - His treacherous desertion - Made desperate every hope she had, - To her the rest of life was sad, - Not even innocence to glad - Or shield her from aspersion. - - She, broken-hearted, crush’d and wrong’d, - Who erred through blind devotion, - Could ne’er regain her home and friends, - Nor could a lifetime make amends, - Nor dull the pang her bosom rends; - She’d die and end emotion. - - She seeks the brook that once she loved, - By stealth in twilight hour, - And, musing on that peaceful scene, - She sadly thought “what might have been,” - Had traitors love, with gilded mien, - Not charmed with subtle power. - - Then came the flood of bitter tears, - Heart-chiding and misgiving, - When stilling all her future fears, - As she a fancied footstep hears, - She takes a leap and disappears, - And ends the pain of living. - - Despairing death her early doom, - Young, wretched, and mistaken, - Her innocence and beauty gone, - Her life cut off in early morn, - Her broken heart in anguish torn, - Deserted and forsaken. - - And where is he whose treach’rous wiles - Have driven her to madness? - Whose hollow heart and sinful soul - Betrayed, while under love’s control, - The trusting heart we here enroll - Upon life’s book of sadness? - - Her icy form drifts down the stream, - While he pursues his pleasures; - The world looks on his murd’rous deeds - With leniency, and scarcely heeds - The ruin wrought, or wrong that pleads - For justice in God’s measures. - - -SUMMER SIGHINGS. - - We want to go to “Iceland,” - Or to the “polar seas;” - We want to hug an “iceberg,” - Or raise a “family breeze;” - We want to see a white frost - All o’er our grassy earth; - We want to have a snow storm - Give winter early birth; - A “cold” would be a godsend, - Indeed, we’d like a “chill;” - A “coolness” with our dearest friend - Would help to “fill the bill.” - A “cool reception” we’d enjoy, - Also, a “freezing” bow, - And “frosted feet” we’d think a treat - If we could have them now. - We’d like our home an “ice house,” - Our bed a bank of snow, - We’d have “refrigerator” cars - To take us to and fro; - We’d love to live in Lapland, - For reasons of our own, - Or spend our summer holidays - Within the “frigid zone.” - Why they call this world a “cold world” - We surely cannot tell, - We think this summer proves it - Almost as hot as “Hades.” - - -OUR BABY. - - Our precious babe, our household pet, - “The well spring of our pleasure,” - Each hour welcomes some new art - Endearing this our treasure; - Its many little winning ways, - Its cunning tricks and baby plays - Bewitches beyond measure. - - We watch it bud from day to day, - Developing new beauties; - A wonder in precociousness, - Performing baby duties; - - It laughs, and coos, and “patty cakes,” - And plays with rings and rattles, - And reaches out its dimpled hands. - For all the goods and chattels - That tend to brighten babyhood. - And for them begs and battles; - - Then laughs and leaps in gay delight; - And kicks and crows its pleasure, - Rejuvenates our quiet home - And fills our hours of leisure, - Till “tired nature” claims the sway - And gives the household holiday. - - -CREMATION. - - Cremation seems to some to be - A matter of economy; - To save a heavy funeral fee, - Thus cheat the undertaker. - It has always been our great desire - To wholly shun _post mortem_ fire; - We’d hate to roast a son or sire, - Or be a body baker. - - How those that like this novel plan - To inflamate the corpse of man, - May use the funeral frying pan, - And gather up the ashes. - But we truly trust that our friends, - When our demise their bosom rends, - Will in their sorrow make amends, - Omitting cinder hashes. - - No matter if the freight is low, - Or if we were a deadhead through, - Who’d want to be a broil or stew-- - Thus to the turkey leveled? - Oh, no! we hope that our fate - Will be postponed till it’s so late - The fashion will be out of date, - And then we can’t be _deviled_. - - -RESPONSE, BY CINDER-ELLA. - - Not for you cremating pyre, - Because “it’s been your great desire - To wholly shun _post mortem_ fire,” - And thus to save your “bakin’.” - Because you have this hope behind you, - Don’t think your master will not find you, - Tho’ deep in earth they have consigned you, - Beneath a lying stone. - When earthly things do fade from view, - And all the chances you’ve run through, - Then will the devil have his due, - And he will claim his own. - - -ANSWER BY MRS. TAYLOR. - - There is, we find, a class of folks - Opposed to our cremation jokes: - ’Twere vain for us to try to coax - Them out of cinder-ation; - For furnace heat they sigh at heart, - They’d ape the goose or gander part, - Or baked like pudding, pie, or tart, - Be _dessert_ of creation. - - To such we would sincerely say, - Their fiery instincts should obey, - We would not have our wishes weigh - Against incendiaries; - But let them burn or bake by rule, - As suits the taste of sage or fool, - Our greatest aim is to keep cool, - Nor cross the Stygian ferries. - - Cremators seem to pine for fire, - Nor would we quench their warm desire, - Though our hope is something higher, - We here would mildly mention: - If they their loved ones would ignite, - And think a burning bier is right, - Why let them take a fiery flight - “Where they pave with good intention.” - - -ALONE. - - Hers is a rayless night; - No star or gleam of light - Beams o’er the widow’s blight, - As she sits alone. - Oh! could her tears that flow, - Wash out her woman’s woe, - Brown every sorrow’s throe - And misery’s moan. - - She has a sunless sky, - Sadly to sit and sigh, - Her hope is but to die - And end the pain; - She thinks of other days - When life had sunny rays, - Such thoughts as nearly craze - Her busy brain. - - Crushed hopes crowding come, - Dead joys, in a darkened home, - Lost love so lately known, - Make life so drear; - What is there left her now? - What peace has earth to show? - What bliss can life bestow - That once was dear? - - She sits in twilight dim, - Vainly awaiting him, - Watching the shadows grim - Go faintly past; - Till night, lone and still, - Veils earth, dark and chill, - How kind could sorrow kill - By one cold blast. - - But there she sits alone, - Lists for that tender tone, - Lately it was her own, - Fondly to hear; - How all is still and cold, - No ray can hope unfold, - Her young heart has grown old - In one short year. - - Life’s early winter ’s come, - Clouded her happy home, - Made grief and woe her own, - Heartsore and sad; - Who could existence crave? - Her love is in the grave; - Would she die and save - Her going mad! - - Heart bowed in deep despair, - Oh, God! hear thou her prayer; - Let time her loss repair, - And spring once more - Smile o’er her clouded years; - Give her the hope that cheers, - Wipe out her widow’s tears - And peace restore. - - -A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM. - - The first on the list is President Boyce, - “The head of the heap,” and the Lyceum’s choice, - Whose seeming set habits in bachelor ways - Is all that robs him of womanly praise. - - The next that comes under my critical pen, - At the president’s table sits fair Mrs. Glenn, - A lady so rich in pleasing pen powers - That we oftentimes wish her minutes were hours. - - And then Mr. Cole, so sober and sage, - Whose late recitations have been quite the rage; - He, too, ’s in the market--I beg you won’t tell, - For the girls will pursue him and find it a “sell.” - - Now dear Mrs. Goodrich, our matron of mind, - Who can be both Biddy and Lady combined; - With much versatility, logic and fun, - We welcome her always as “A Number one.” - - In _strides_ Mr. Hollister, tall and profound, - Who refuses to see when a laugh may be found; - Who relishes Bennett’s rejecting Miss May, - As though the stale tidings were fresh of to-day. - - Then chimes the “sweet singer,” Miss Huston--Ah, me! - What would the Lyceum do without thee? - With her silverest tones and dreamiest look, - To recite the sad “Bells” and sing the sweet “Brook.” - - In _trips_ Enoch Taylor with humor and fun, - As “Dundreary,” or “Paddy,” or “George Washington;” - He has a strong weakness for “Widow Bedotte,” - Indeed, for all widows a weakness he’s got. - - See the bright star, May Donally, rise, - Whose musical voice and luminous eyes - Make her so brilliant in reading and song, - We wish we could teach her refusing was wrong. - - Boyd, the “tall barrister,” drawls out his say - In his sensible, lazy, lack-a-daisical way; - He declaims or debates, according to choice; - He’s a bachelor, having no partner but Boyce. - - Then Mrs. Thorne, whose husband is Joe, - Smilingly reads, in tones soft and low, - Good articles, essays, poems or prose-- - She’s happy at any you choose to propose. - - Now comes Col. Finch, so jolly and jocose, - Who lately, I think, got slightly morose - Because “Brother Watkins” fell flat on our ears, - And failed to bring any spectators to tears. - - Mr. Babbitt’s a name suggestive of soap, - Clean records and linen, and giving a scope - For a lawyer of merit, who’s modest and shy, - To make him a mixture to “concentrate lye.” - - Then Mrs. Jones and Coffin come in, - Gentle, sweet readers as ever have been; - Selected to serve in meter or prose, - They recite “ready made” or sweetly compose. - - Mr. Baker, who next breaks out in debate, - Is a favorite here, and I think I may state - Our friends will find it instructive delight - Attending his lecture here, next Friday night. - - Welcome Miss Fish and Miss Boyd, in their turn, - Who know so much now they have little to learn; - They give us at times an essay or two, - Well written and read, and then they are through. - - Now pretty dame Stone is a _hard_ name to puff, - And to stick to the truth would be very rough; - For the gents, as she reads, the author defies, - And lose their ideas in the light of her eyes. - - Col. Taylor, the “chronic debater,” appears, - Who argues regardless of scruples or fear; - Our “smiling attorney” don’t fret about sin, - But espouses the cause that’s surest to win. - - The sensible, cynical Simpson Glenn, - Scares us and scathes us with critical pen; - He’s not over pious, I’ve heard people say, - But would be a Christian, were the Tempter away. - - McLaughlin, why will you persistently part - Your hair in the middle, thus touching the heart - Of the girls of our church? I think it is wrong; - For forgiveness you’ll have to sing us a song. - - Now sweet Mrs. Worth, our directress and guide, - Her name and her nature so closely allied; - Her gay, happy face and her laughing, bright eyes, - Are a light in the Lyceum the male members prize. - - Mr. Goodrich writes quaintly, a style of his own, - But favors us seldom, if we let him alone; - His smiling refusals don’t quite fill the bill, - Though he fancies the sugar will cover the pill. - - See, brilliant and bright as an evening star, - Our “brunette contralto,” Lucebia LeBarr; - With Miss Mary Taylor, whose talent is fine, - Executes harmonies almost divine. - - In _stalks_ Frederick Peer, the “tragedian knight,” - So happy in “Hamlet,” so good to recite - The “Wreck” or the “Richards” either one, two or three-- - A Booth in the future I think I foresee. - - Now gentle Miss Conkling, of rustic renown, - Has kindly consented to honor the town - And favor our meetings, in spite of the trains, - And cheer us and charm us with musical strains. - - The next new delight we wish to impart - Will be in the person of Johnny B. Hart; - So modest in manner, so earnest in mind, - Has piety, talent, good nature combined. - - By the way, he will lecture on the 10th of this May - Concerning Victoria’s blest reign of to-day; - With so fine a speaker and pleasant a theme, - The church will be filled with “_la crème de la crème_.” - - In _pops_ pungent Pape, with his poem from Poe, - Distorted, dissected till you hardly would know - How it could of all grace be so thoroughly shaven, - Could the poet arise I know he’d be “Raven.” - - Last though not _least_, is Mrs. E. Taylor, - Of fair ones of forty, I think I’ve seen _frailer_! - But she’s blest with _one_ beauty, she never gets blue-- - Not even in bidding the Lyceum adieu. - - -NIGHT’S PHASES. - - In sable mantle wrapt at rest, - Behold the glorious, gorgeous night, - Its firmament in splendor dressed - Its canopy the starry height, - Whose sparks illume and light the land, - And make e’en darkness bright and grand. - - Then comes the moon with silver glow, - Whose mellow rays both charm and cheer, - Benignly blessing all below, - Before whose brightness disappear - Clouds and shadows, mists and shades, - Till silver sheen all earth pervades. - - And then the mild, soft summer night, - With genial zephyrs, gentle dews, - Whose balmy breath wafts rich delight - O’er summer slopes where nightly strews - The ripened roses’ perfumed leaves, - Nor _robs_ the flower that it bereaves. - - Then comes the frosty winter night, - With crystal boughs and icy brooks, - With snow-capped hills, afar and white, - A-lending light to earth’s dark nooks, - Diffusing rays and borrowed gleams - O’er darkened woods and shaded streams. - - And then behold the dreary night, - Without the spell of moon or stars, - Whose somber silence seems to blight - Earth’s finest phase, and chills and mars - The lonesome landscape, crowds the mind - With weird, wild fancies undefined; - - And gives each form a phantom shape, - Creating visions gaunt and grim, - And, as a pall that mourners drape, - The clouds surround the shadows dim, - Filling the heart with nameless fears, - Till night’s dull darkness disappears. - - -THE FOUNDLING. - - As I sat by my window one cool autumn eve, - And watched the dim shades on the opposite lawn, - From my silent surroundings sweet fancies I weave, - Unmindful of time and the approach of the dawn. - There I sat in the quiet and beauty of night, - Till the sentinel stars grew dim with the light. - - When recalled to myself from the silence around, - While Nature was sleeping in peaceful repose, - By the meager approach of a weak, wailing sound, - Which on the night air at intervals rose, - Growing faint and fainter as the evening chill - Crept over the landscape so somber and still. - - Whence comes that faint cry so plaintive and thrilling, - That dies on the air at each waft of the breeze? - Why creeps o’er my heart this sensation so chilling, - As I listen enchained ’mid the rustle of trees? - At length all is quiet but the night-watch’s tread, - So I hasten beside him, and tell him my dread. - - Together we seek in the dimness of dawn, - ’Mid grass and dead leaves becovered with dew, - To unravel the mystery heard on the lawn; - And the darkness dispelling, we find it too true, - That a babe, sweet and chubby, but a week or two old, - Is lying neglected alone in the cold. - - In a coarse blanket-shawl, soiled, ragged, and old, - Lay the poor little sleeper, the picture of grief, - Aweary with weeping and hunger and cold, - Kind nature had brought it this happy relief, - Its downy cheeks wet with the cold evening dew, - Its chubby fists doubled and dimpled and blue. - - A moment we gazed on its rude little bed, - And wondered what misery it must atone, - Why it was left there--what mystery led - To expose it to perish, forsaken, alone, - Was it treachery, wickedness, want, or woe, - That tempted the mother to abandon it so? - - I lifted the babe from the damp, chilly ground, - Which awakened the sleeper from its sobbing repose, - And casting a startled and wild look around, - It nestled again in an infantile doze, - While I carried it home to fire and food, - Dressed it more cleanly, less common and rude. - - A sweet little girl, fat, rosy, and fair, - By Nature’s endowments all any could crave, - With gentle blue eyes and light downy hair - (On a snowy broad brow), inclining to wave; - In form sweetly perfect, in face near divine; - For such do our wealthy ones daily repine. - - This poor little waif, unwelcomed has come, - Been rescued by chance from hunger and cold, - How early life’s trials for it have begun, - How many new fears may its future unfold! - Left helpless and homeless to strangers alone, - With not even a name to claim as its own. - - Now the watchman returns for his foundling care. - I resign it reluctantly into his arms, - The babe is adrift again--O whither and where? - Will it find security from life’s alarms? - It may never know father nor mother nor home, - Kind heaven protect it from evils to come. - - -THE NEW YEAR. - - The year is an infant, new-born and pure-hearted, - No blur on its beauty, no tear on its cheek; - How long will it last, when the calendar ’s started, - In innocent purity? How soon will it reek - With sorrow and sinfulness, woe and unkindness, - Till the whole year is blotted with error and blindness? - - Each happy new year brings good resolutions, - Which wane and wear out ere the change of the moon; - We picture new plans at each revolution, - Which we find, when to late, have failed us too soon, - And our visions of happiness, pleasure, and cheerfulness - Are changed, ere the end, to sorrow and tearfulness. - - Oh, would that this year, unlike all preceding, - Could show a clean record of well-kept resolves-- - Good plans well perfected, fair promises heeding-- - Instead of a picture that daily dissolves; - Then, indeed, would our future be free from all care, - Were our pledges and vows kept all through the year. - - -SPRING SPECIALTIES. - - Spring smacks of lamb and peas and eggs, - Of rural trips and pleasure, - New jaunty hats, and pants with legs - A yard around would measure; - Of light cloth suits for gents to wear, - And kilted skirts for ladies, - Who sally out to get the air - When the house is hot as Hades; - It tells of times when overcoats - Are being pawned for summer, - When furs are in the camphor chest, - And each officious drummer - Commences sale of china glue - And extra patent polish, - When heads of houses gladly would - Each canvasser demolish; - When brush and broom, and soap and sand - Are order of the season; - When cleaning paint and scrubbing floors - Would rob you of your reason; - When home looks damp, and smells of suds, - And dust and dirt are plenty; - There’s not a happy husband then-- - I’m sure not one in twenty-- - And the only hope they have to cheer, - The season comes but once a year. - - -MUSIC. - - Music, blest of all the arts, - We prize thy melting measures, - What other power so imparts - The magic to awaken hearts? - We’d have a line of crowned Mozarts - To tune our lives to pleasures. - - Music soothes the infant’s sighs, - And lulls its baby slumbers; - Its charms cement domestic ties, - Each home its mellow measures prize; - It kindred hearts will harmonize - And chain by tuneful numbers. - - Music cheers the bridal hours, - Each happiness it heightens; - It stirs, it animates, empowers - The love and hope that may be ours, - And ripens buds of bliss to flowers, - And every blessing brightens. - - Music stirs the warrior’s fire, - And goads him on to glory; - It kindles every brave desire - That love of country can inspire, - And makes the hero’s heart beat higher - To ’dorn a patriot story. - - The church’s choicest gift and best; - Its harmony and gladness, - Music’s strains, religion’s zest, - The Christian’s cheering balm and rest, - When hope seems dark, and heart depressed - It charms away the sadness. - - Last, music of the funeral train, - So slowly, sweetly sighing; - It softens weeping mourners’ pain; - It tells of rapture we’ll regain - When heavenly transports we attain, - And soothes the dread of dying. - - -THE FAIR APE OF PHILA. - - We have just read the news, - Which gave us the blues, - That a monkey was born in that city; - An honor so rare - We wanted to share, - So jealousy seasoned our pity. - - To have the fair ape - Show its infantile shape - First out in that public garden, - So far away from - Her country and kind, - Aloof from her comrades - She never may find, - Nor the trees of the tropics, - For which she has pined, - Her case is truly a hard one. - - This young kangaroo - Born out at the Zoo, - Made a ripple in public feeling, - Which gushes and glows, - And clamors and crows, - Unjointing at once, - Each Darwinian nose, - All love from _foreign_ apes stealing. - - A Quakeress monkey - Is a curious thing, - A grave and gay combination; - Its infantile antics - ’Twill have to bring - Into sober sedateness; - And, poor little thing, - Away all its native - Amusements must fling - To claim its Quaker relation. - - We can’t help thinking - ’Twould have been for the best, - Could this fair young ape - Been born out West, - Though the Darwin theory goes to prove - Its _right_ to the city of “_Brotherly Love_.” - - -DECORATION ODE. - - Bring fragrant flowers, rich and rare, - Let wreathes and roses scent the air. - Go strew them freely o’er the graves - Of buried heroes, sainted braves. - The noisy din of war is o’er, - The battle drum shall wake no more. - Now quietly their bosoms rest, - Those silent hearts by valor blest. - On sacred soil their ashes lie, - Blest beneath a summer sky; - Their deeds of glory, brave and bold, - Their valiant will, their dying told, - Their honest hearts were in the strife, - For liberty they gave their life. - May every patriot in our land - Beside those sainted heroes stand, - And fill their names with warrior praise, - And deck their graves with lasting bays. - May woman’s gentle, soothing voice - Now sing sweet anthems and rejoice, - That, as she wreathes the flowers o’er - The mounds of loved ones, now no more, - Their names and deeds will ever bloom, - While flowers fade upon their tomb. - They’ve fought their earthly battles well, - We’d crown them all with immortelle. - - -THE HONEYMOON. - - With “loves” and “doves” - And white kid gloves - The “honeymoon” will wane away; - Each turn ’s a kiss, - This new-born bliss - Will last for thirty days, they say. - - With gifts and glances - And wedding dances, - The time speeds onward far too fast; - Such blushing, sighing, - There’s no denying - This novel love ’s too sweet to last. - - They love and languish - In blissful anguish, - Till all around swims with delight; - Their vows and pledges - Set your teeth on edges, - And they “bill and coo” till it dims your sight. - - They seem so spooney - They’re almost luny, - This pair so lately joined in one. - They loll and linger, - Toy with hand and finger, - And think life’s pleasures just begun. - - Mistaken mortals! - Life’s opening portals - Admit a glare too bright too last; - And “loves young dream,” - Which now may seem - Elysian joy, will soon be past. - - -THE MODEL MAN. - - I have an ambition to try to portray - In rhythm a masculine model; - So seldom such rarities brighten my way - To the fields of wild fancy I’m driven to stray, - And to paint my ideal in a rhyming array - Will force me the muses to coddle. - - Well, this model of mine is married, of course, - For how could a bachelor be one? - So I gauge him by marital morals and force; - As a husband, he merits a crown for a cross, - For he acts as a beau instead of a boss-- - I’d go to the moon to see one. - - He seldom or never goes out after night, - As other men do, less devoted. - To lodges and clubs, and to see every sight, - Whether it be wrong or whether it be right; - He never comes home either cranky or tight-- - A fact which should be duly noted. - - He never comes in from the office and cowls - If dinner is late or not ready, - Nor frowns nor feazes, nor fusses nor howls, - Nor goes round the house and grumbles and growls, - Nor blesses the knife as he cuts up the fowls, - But always seems happy and steady. - - He’s a model, indeed--content on a crust. - No sighing for honor or riches; - He’s as blind as a bat to cob-webs and dust; - Nor any domestic derangement or rust - Would he notice for worlds, for fear of a muss-- - His thoughtfulness truly bewitches. - - A buttonless shirt, or a hole in his hose, - He views with happy contentment. - Nor savagely scowls if his best Sunday clothes - Get mussed in the closet; nor blusters nor blows, - Nor curses the rocker for stumping his toes; - My model is free from resentment. - - He never keeps letters for days in his hat - That I give him to mail in the morning, - But mails them at once, so punctual and pat. - Whether it’s from duty or fear of a spat, - I’m prepared not to say; I only know that - He mails them without further warning. - - He never complains of long dry goods bills, - Nor squirms when the shoe bill ’s presented; - Nor scolds nor scowls when the milliner fills - A long sheet of foolscap with bonnets and frills, - But pays like a _man_, if it breaks him or kills, - With an air that’s resigned and contented. - - And then too, he’s ever so ready to go, - At the sound of the slightest suggestion, - To the opera, theater, lecture, or show; - Consenting at once, he never says no, - Nor looks bored and cross if it’s stupid or slow, - But retains the same happy expression. - - He does not complain, in our travels, of trunks, - Or baskets, or bundles, or boxes, - But smilingly looks at the over-stored bunks - In happy complacence--never worries or spunks; - This model of mine ’s no cross, surly lunks, - But a martyr quite equal to Fox’s. - - My ideal man don’t growl for a week, - Should I get a few duds for my travels, - But gives money and time, to sew and to seek - New dresses and wraps, too many to speak, - And seems to enjoy each extravagant freak - That the mystery of toilet unravels. - - Some men will forget in their every-day lives - The courtesies due to their spouses; - They get kind of used to their homes and their wives, - Neglecting the walks, the chats, and the drives, - Upon which connubial happiness thrives; - But devotion in mine never drowses. - - Now, gents, stop your blushing; I did not intend - To step on the toes of a single male friend. - Your modesty might personalities dread, - So I will say that this model depicted--_is dead_. - - -THE STRICKEN SOUTH. - -[SUMMER OF 1878.] - - The pestilence that gaunt and grim - Stalks through our sunny land, - Leaves traces marked with misery - In many a broken band; - It scatters friends and severs ties, - And makes whole cities wail, - Neglected dead unburied lies - To tell the mournful tale. - - One fickle moon has scarcely passed - Since first that blighting blow - Crushed hopes of years--all aims of life - Seemed paralyzed with woe; - Bereavement, blight, and bitterness - Reign o’er our stricken land, - And leave the lone and desolate - Beside their dead to stand. - - Their sunny skies in beauty smile - O’er scores of scenes of woe, - And seem to mock the misery - The fatal records show; - Dread burdens every waft of breeze - Which pestilence imparts; - The very balmy air they breathe - Brings poison to their hearts. - - Their streets deserted, kindred fled, - All busy life is still; - Their household gods all scattered lie - Before death’s dauntless will; - A grave-like silence reigns supreme, - No sound but moans and sighs - That echoes on the quiet air - As some new victim dies. - - Fond lips that prayed but yesterday - Around the social hearth, - Are closed in death’s oblivion - And mute to sounds of earth; - Babes and mothers rest as one - Beneath the silent sod, - Together summoned sire and son - Before the bar of God. - - For bleeding hearts and stricken homes - We plead thy pitying care, - And beg for mercy at thy will, - Oh, God! hear thou our prayer; - Relent, and stay the messenger - That lurks at every door; - Retard his ruthless ravages - And health and hope restore. - - -“IF EVER I CEASE TO LOVE.” - - Then let the sun with rosy light - No longer shine, nor moon by night - Her mellow rays around, above, - Illume--if I should cease to love. - - May starry heights grow dim and dark, - In absence of that heavenly spark, - All Nature’s gems in skies above - Suspend--if I should cease to love. - - May dancing rills and crystal brooks - Rejoice no more mid shady nooks, - Nor wind in glee through moonlit grove - Or glen--if I should cease to love. - - Without this magic spark divine - To warm and cheer this heart of mine, - Nor earth beneath nor heaven above, - Could compensate for loss of love. - - The moon and stars, the sun and air, - The joyous birds and flowers rare, - All to me would worthless prove, - If ever I should cease to love. - - This lovely land, these sunny skies, - No charm would have for loveless eyes, - No song from hall or sight from grove - Enchant--if I should cease to love. - - -AN APPEAL FOR THE MEMPHIS ORPHANS. - -[_Recited at the St. Paul’s Children’s Social by Joe. E. Young, -1878._] - - We are happy to meet you, - In gladness we greet you, - A welcome to all we extend; - Your happy, bright faces - Show nothing but traces - Which kindness and charity lend. - - While we revel in pleasure, - Let’s try in a measure - To remember our brothers abroad, - Who are suffering and sighing, - And in misery crying, - For comforts they can not afford. - - One short, fatal season - Has given them reason - For deploring their sorrows for years; - Taken father and mother, - And sister and brother, - And left them alone in their tears. - - With no one to love them - But the Father above them, - No home but the one in the skies; - No hope for the morrow - To soften their sorrow, - No mother to quiet their cries. - - To the cold care of strangers, - And the world’s many dangers, - Their lot in the future is cast: - They will miss every hour - The sweet, soothing power - Of the love that now lives in the past. - - So, comrades, we pray you, - Let no motive stay you - From helping the orphans in need; - Their friends are all taken, - Their homes all forsaken, - Their childhood’s a desert indeed. - - -WAITING FOR FROST. - - In the silence of night, - In the dullness of day, - When disease and distress - Hold pre-eminent sway; - The sad, stricken souls - In their misery tossed, - Now yearningly sigh - For the coming of frost. - - The friends and afflicted - Watch evening and morn, - For a waft of cool breeze, - That a hope may be borne - To the souls of the sighing, - Whose life it may cost, - This continued and fatal - Delay of the frost. - - Their hopes still deferred - Each day brings regret, - While the suffering die, - And the end is not yet. - Fond wish of the weary, - Chilled, blighted, and crossed, - Each day disappointed, - In the coming of frost. - - By the bed of the dying, - By the side of the bier, - The bereaved ones sit sighing - In sorrow and fear; - And others, deserted, - In agony tossed - On their feverish couch - Are praying for frost. - - Oh, who can half measure - The sorrow and gloom - That enshrouds our fair land - Like a dark, dreary tomb. - May God in his mercy, - Ere hope is all lost, - Relentingly hasten - The coming of frost. - - MEMPHIS, _Oct. 1878_. - - -OCTOBER. - - October winds are softly sighing - Through the stately oaks and pines, - Autumn leaves are wildly flying - As all nature now declines; - Brightly through the varied branches - Breaks the slanting autumn sun, - And chirping through the thinning bushes - See the swallows homeward come. - - As I watch decaying nature - That surrounds our rural home, - Revel in these autumn glories, - Listen to the soft wind’s moan. - See the leaves from green to golden - Change their summer hue and fall, - The flowers fade, the branches wither, - It seems the “common lot of all.” - - In life we find a fleeting springtime, - Rife with fancy’s wildest dream, - But giving early place to summer, - Which with ripened beauties teem; - Then comes autumn, sober autumn, - Roses scattered, hopes decayed, - When spring dreams and summer beauty - With life’s flowery fancies fade. - - But the pensive, sad reflections, - Musing on those autumn days, - Imparts to us a saddened pleasure, - Surrounds our life with gentle haze; - Takes us through the faded flowers, - Crushed and scattered ’neath our tread; - Leads us through forsaken bowers, - Shows us nature withered--dead. - - “OAKLAWN,” Memphis, Tenn. - - -GEO. FRANCIS TRAIN, - -THE WILD WIT OF THE DAY. - - Variable, versatile, stormy, and wild, - At times we’re entranced, and then again riled - At his wayward remarks and blustering strain, - Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train. - - Original ever his words and his ways, - But orthodox seldom in aught that he says; - His fancy, so fertile, takes many a flight, - But leaves Truth and Religion quite out of sight. - - Ambitious, progressive, political scion, - Reminding us oft of a wild, roaring lion, - Uncaged and untamed in a woody domain, - A manner peculiar to Geo. Francis Train. - - His lectures all seem so wild and erratic, - His manner, at times, so raving, dramatic, - In a whirlwind of passion he prances and strides, - Then subdues--and his rage into poetry glides. - - A perfect enigma, and a genius as well, - A tornado, a storm, and then comes a spell - Of brightness and sunshine, ’mid thunder and rain, - Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train. - - Ambitious of honors, position and fame, - Determined to win a notorious name, - His wish, you will see, in every oration, - Is deathless desire to govern the nation! - - To help on his cause, he solicits the aid - Of all colors and sexes and sorts ever made; - Generous indeed--he’s the workingman’s friend! - To hear him--he has only a dollar to spend! - - Glorious republic! If the prophecy ’s true, - When Train is elected--we’ll have nothing to do - But enjoy perfect peace abroad and at home, - The nation will think the millennium ’s come! - - -WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY. - - As years roll on and ages pass, - This name of martial glory - Leaves traces on the calendar, - Which tell the yearly story - Of this our “prince of patriots’” birth, - The bravest, boldest, best of earth, - Whose mighty will and warrior worth - Won battles great and gory. - - It tells of valor long since gone, - Of victories commended, - Of wonders seen and wonders told, - Of buried braves and heroes bold, - Cast in nature’s choicest mold, - Now on earth’s bosom blended. - - We sigh in sadness o’er the wreck - Of this historic season, - We’d have its pleasures all return, - We’d have its patriot bosoms burn, - We’d have our nation ever spurn - The slightest trace of treason. - - We’d wander through memorial halls - In quest of antique treasures, - We’d linger round those storied walls, - Renewing bygone pleasures, - And wishing for that olden time, - When our dead hero, in his prime, - Contested unjust measures. - - We’d hear of battles lost and won, - Of dangers braved and ended, - We’d hear of patriots, long since gone, - Whom nature most intended - To live in fame and memory - Throughout a long eternity. - - We’d have our sainted warrior’s name, - So famed in song and story, - And rendered to our memories dear - By records of its glory, - Kept green on history’s sacred pages, - From now throughout the lapse of ages. - - - - -ADIEU TO “MY DEAR FIVE HUNDRED.” - - -We seldom see a preface in the back of a book, or a frontispiece -in the middle, but as I have always been considered a little -eccentric, I will make a new departure, and thank my indulgent -readers here for their patient perusal of these pages. I locate -these honeyed words in the rear as a reward of merit to any one -that is martyr enough to reach them by the regular route, and those -that have not energy and endurance enough to do so deserve to lose -these chunks of wisdom and words of cheer. In the preceding poems -are depicted sentiments to suit my changing moods; streaks of -mirth and wails of misery; childhood’s mischief and woman’s woe; a -mixture of ecstasy and agony, to suit “the gay or the grave, the -lively or severe.” Now, should they fail to find a responsive echo -in my readers’ hearts, then is “Othello’s occupation gone,” and I -will fold my hands, dry my quill, dismiss my muse, and write no -more. - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - - Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been - corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within - the text and consultation of external sources. - - Poetic contractions have been treated consistently. Common - contractions with is or has [such as she’s, there’s, that’s] have - no space, but less common ones have retained the space usually but - not always found in the original book [such as night ’s, turn ’s, - mine ’s]. - - The space has been removed from other common phrases with - contractions, for example ’T was has been changed to ’Twas, - can ’t has been changed to can’t. - - Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, - and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. - - Table of Contents: ‘My Childhood’ replaced by ‘My Infancy’. - Pg 10: ‘Another seige was’ replaced by ‘Another siege was’. - Pg 13: ‘towsled hair’ replaced by ‘tousled hair’. - Pg 53: ‘My trosseau’ replaced by ‘My trousseau’. - Pg 55: ‘A could not see’ replaced by ‘I could not see’. - Pg 56: ‘It made be overrate’ replaced by ‘It made me overrate’. - Pg 92: ‘He wooes this’ replaced by ‘He woos this’. - Pg 94: ‘with gilded mein’ replaced by ‘with gilded mien’. - Pg 109: ‘pretty dame Stone’s is’ replaced by ‘pretty dame Stone is’. - Pg 128: ‘sober sedatenees’ replaced by ‘sober sedateness’. - Pg 140: ‘In absense of that’ replaced by ‘In absence of that’. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A-Naughty-Biography and other poems, by -Mrs. Enoch Taylor - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A NAUGHTY BIOGRAPHY AND OTHER POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 60504-0.txt or 60504-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/5/0/60504/ - -Produced by MFR, John Campbell and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A-Naughty-Biography and other poems - -Author: Mrs. Enoch Taylor - -Release Date: October 16, 2019 [EBook #60504] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A NAUGHTY BIOGRAPHY AND OTHER POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by MFR, John Campbell and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - -<div class="transnote"> -<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</strong></p> - -<p>Some minor changes to the text are noted at the <a href="#TN">end of the book.</a></p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="533" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="full pg-brk" /> - -<div class="tpage"> - -<h1> -<span class="fs150">A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="fs50">AND</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="fs100 lsp">OTHER POEMS.</span></h1> -<br /> -<br /> -<p class="fs70">BY<br /> -<span class="fs150 lsp2">MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR.</span></p> -<br /> -<br /> -<hr class="r20" /> -<br /> -<br /> -<p class="fs90">CINCINNATI:<br /> -<span class="fs120 smcap">Robert Clarke & Co., Print.</span><br /> -<span class="fs100">1878.</span></p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap pg-brk" /> -<p class="p6" /> - -<hr class="r30" /> -<p class="pfs60">COPYRIGHTED.</p> -<p class="pfs80">MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR.</p> -<p class="pfs90">1878.</p> -<hr class="r30" /> -<p class="p6" /> - - -<hr class="chap pg-brk" /> -<p class="p6" /> - -<p class="pfs90">TO</p> -<p class="pfs120">“<span class="smcap">My Dear Five Hundred</span>.”</p> -<p class="p6" /> - - -<hr class="chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> -<p class="p6" /> - -<h2 class="no-brk"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</a></h2> -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="center smcap"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="80%" summary=""> -<tr><td class="tdl"></td><td class="tdr fs70">PAGE.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">A-Naughty-Biography,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl pad4 fvnormal"><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'My Childhood'">My Infancy</ins>,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl pad4 fvnormal">School Life,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl pad4 fvnormal">Girlhood,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl pad4 fvnormal">A “Good-Bye”-ography,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdc">MISCELLANEOUS.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Village Belle,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">St. Valentine’s Day,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Rainy Day,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Autumn,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">October,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Love’s Longings,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">She Sleeps Beneath the Roses,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">November,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Gone Blind,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Lines Written by the Seaside,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Twenty Summers,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Chiding “Love’s Chidings,”</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Found Drowned,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Dark Days of Winter,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Song of the Slush,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> - Betrayed,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Summer Sighings,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Our Baby,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Cremation,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl pad4 fvnormal">Response by Cindrella,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl pad4 fvnormal">Answer by Author,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Alone,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">A Critique on the Morris Lyceum,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Night’s Phases,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Foundling,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The New Year,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Spring Specialties,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Music,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Fair Ape of Phila.,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Decoration Ode,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Honeymoon,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Model Man,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Stricken South,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">“If ever I Cease to Love”,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">An Appeal for the Memphis Orphans,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Waiting for Frost,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">October,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">George Francis Train,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Washington’s Birthday,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Adieu to “My Dear Five Hundred,”</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - - -<hr class="chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> -<p class="p6" /> - -<h2 class="no-brk"><a name="A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY" id="A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY.</a></h2> -<hr class="r20" /> - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">MY INFANCY.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Full forty years have passed and gone,</p> -<p class="verse0">Since early on a winter’s morn,</p> -<p class="verse0">My infant eyes first struck the light.</p> -<p class="verse0">At once I showed my baby-spite,</p> -<p class="verse0">To find my new abode so plain,</p> -<p class="verse0">And half resolved I’d not remain.</p> -<p class="verse0">If I had unexpected come,</p> -<p class="verse0">And found this unpretending home,</p> -<p class="verse0">I might the negligence excused,</p> -<p class="verse0">But now I felt I was abused.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">For half a year the fact was known</p> -<p class="verse0">That I was on the road to town,</p> -<p class="verse0">And all the neighbors, far and near,</p> -<p class="verse0">Said, “Doctor’d bring a baby here.”</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And so I came at dawn of day,</p> -<p class="verse0">A-crying, too, I’ve heard them say,</p> -<p class="verse0">And found few preparations made—</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve often wondered that I stayed.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Plain petticoats and untrimmed slips,</p> -<p class="verse0">Pewter spoons that scratched my lips,</p> -<p class="verse0">A cradle made of painted pine,</p> -<p class="verse0">That rocked so rough it made me whine;</p> -<p class="verse0">Then three long hours every day</p> -<p class="verse0">The colic checked my baby play;</p> -<p class="verse0">For months this griping kept me riled,</p> -<p class="verse0">And nearly set my mother wild.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">At last our troubles seemed to wane,</p> -<p class="verse0">I thought I’d bid adieu to pain,</p> -<p class="verse0">When teething time, with all its pangs,</p> -<p class="verse0">Commenced its course with piercing twangs;</p> -<p class="verse0">My mother’d walk the floor by day—</p> -<p class="verse0">My pa by night, I’ve heard them say.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">My father, jolly, good, and kind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Would often half make up his mind</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">To slap me soundly if I cried,</p> -<p class="verse0">But his heart would fail him when he tried,</p> -<p class="verse0">And as he tossed and dandled me</p> -<p class="verse0">In drowsiness upon his knee,</p> -<p class="verse0">They say the more he nursed and tried,</p> -<p class="verse0">The more I always screamed and cried,</p> -<p class="verse0">And often would each soul alarm</p> -<p class="verse0">Upon our little one-horse farm.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">These trials lasted just a year,</p> -<p class="verse0">The coast again seemed getting-clear,</p> -<p class="verse0">When all at once the whooping-cough</p> -<p class="verse0">Attacked and nearly took me off.</p> -<p class="verse0">For nine long weeks I whooped and choked,</p> -<p class="verse0">While mother nursed and father joked—</p> -<p class="verse0">He was always great to jest and pun,</p> -<p class="verse0">And turn all troubles into fun—</p> -<p class="verse0">He said the <em>crisis</em> now was here,</p> -<p class="verse0">And we had nothing worse to fear.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Alas! his jesting hopes were vain,</p> -<p class="verse0">The whooping-cough did not remain,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">But measles next came breaking out,</p> -<p class="verse0">The pimples showing, little doubt,</p> -<p class="verse0"><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'Another seige was'">Another siege was</ins> mine to bear.</p> -<p class="verse0">“To all the ills that flesh was heir,”</p> -<p class="verse0">I felt my infant lot was given,</p> -<p class="verse0">And really wished I was in heaven.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But quiet comfort did arrive,</p> -<p class="verse0">And I began to grow and thrive,</p> -<p class="verse0">And ma and pa could take their rest,</p> -<p class="verse0">And thought themselves supremely blest.</p> -<p class="verse0">Just then I first began to talk;</p> -<p class="verse0">At later date, I learned to walk;</p> -<p class="verse0">But stammered out my early say,</p> -<p class="verse0">And stumbled on my infant way,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till one bright morn in early June,</p> -<p class="verse0">A baby “brought in a balloon,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Unjoints my little Grecian nose,</p> -<p class="verse0">My infant ire at once arose.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Our family now was much too large,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then it was a fearful charge</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">For mother, who had much to do.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d try to put the baby through.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d feel its tiny foot, and sly</p> -<p class="verse0">Would pinch or scratch, and make it cry,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or rub its head, with look so meek,</p> -<p class="verse0">And pull its hair or pinch its cheek;</p> -<p class="verse0">And mother would at once begin</p> -<p class="verse0">To look for the offending pin,</p> -<p class="verse0">That made the “baby waby” shriek,</p> -<p class="verse0">Ne’er dreaming it was Bessie’s freak.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, at the early age of three,</p> -<p class="verse0">Being bad as bad could be,</p> -<p class="verse0">I never was a minute mute,</p> -<p class="verse0">And people thought me smart and cute;</p> -<p class="verse0">The baby was, I’m glad to say,</p> -<p class="verse0">More good and quiet in its way—</p> -<p class="verse0">Not half the trouble I had been—</p> -<p class="verse0">Unless I stuck it with a pin,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or rocked it hard, and made it cry,</p> -<p class="verse0">You scarce would know the babe was by.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So time rolled on, and I intent</p> -<p class="verse0">On infant mischief, came and went,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Till little sister learned to talk.</p> -<p class="verse0">’Twas I that taught her first to walk;</p> -<p class="verse0">She’d tumble down—I’d pull her through</p> -<p class="verse0">And scold her well, and shake her too.</p> -<p class="verse0">Then she would totter on and cry,</p> -<p class="verse0">While I would chase a butterfly,</p> -<p class="verse0">And leave her standing in the lane,</p> -<p class="verse0">A-wondering when I’d come again.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Around the barn we used to roam,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or any place away from home;</p> -<p class="verse0">We hand-in-hand would tramp and play,</p> -<p class="verse0">From early morn till close of day,</p> -<p class="verse0">Upsetting all the honest nests</p> -<p class="verse0">That enterprising hens possessed,</p> -<p class="verse0">And loving little ducks to death,</p> -<p class="verse0">And out of chickens squeeze the breath,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till mother’d come and frown and fuss,</p> -<p class="verse0">And father, too, to save a muss.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then homeward bound you’d see us go,</p> -<p class="verse0">The family party in a row,</p> -<p class="verse0">But I was nearly always last,</p> -<p class="verse0">For when my penitence was past,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">I stopped at times upon the way,</p> -<p class="verse0">To finish my neglected play;</p> -<p class="verse0">And father laughed and mother’d scold</p> -<p class="verse0">About the black sheep of the fold.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Thus matters stood when I was five,</p> -<p class="verse0">The hardest little case alive.</p> -<p class="verse0">We spent the hottest summer days</p> -<p class="verse0">Working hard at baby-plays,</p> -<p class="verse0">Making pies of mud and clay,</p> -<p class="verse0">Hauling sand and dirt away;</p> -<p class="verse0">Through grass and puddles we would wade,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till we a hill or ditch had made.</p> -<p class="verse0">With muddy dresses, <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'towsled hair'">tousled hair</ins>,</p> -<p class="verse0">And dirty faces, we’d repair</p> -<p class="verse0">From lane to road, from road to lane,</p> -<p class="verse0">Through dirt and dust, through sun and rain.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Our infant lives were passing by,</p> -<p class="verse0">When all at once, we scarce knew why,</p> -<p class="verse0">A shadow came upon our home,</p> -<p class="verse0">And all our household filled with gloom.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Our father, ever good and kind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was taken from our midst, to find</p> -<p class="verse0">A better home beyond the skies,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which lasting happiness supplies,</p> -<p class="verse0">And mother and five little ones</p> -<p class="verse0">Were left to tread the world alone.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But blessings came from every friend</p> -<p class="verse0">That could a kind assistance lend;</p> -<p class="verse0">Our lot, though lonely, sad, and scant,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was brightened and relieved from want</p> -<p class="verse0">For kindred hearts, with willing hand,</p> -<p class="verse0">Gave shelter to our orphan band.</p> -<p class="verse0">Our home, of course, must scattered be</p> -<p class="verse0">To suit the sad emergency.</p> -<p class="verse0">Our little circle’s severed ties</p> -<p class="verse0">Dimmed my mother’s loving eyes,</p> -<p class="verse0">But still her grateful heart was glad</p> -<p class="verse0">To know the help and hope we had.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I thought in this extremity,</p> -<p class="verse0">There’d be a wondrous rush for me,</p> -<p class="verse0">That I’d be claimed by all our kin,</p> -<p class="verse0">But found myself quite taken in.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">My country aunts took all the rest,</p> -<p class="verse0">Though, after all, we fared the best.</p> -<p class="verse0">The oldest boy, my brother Joe,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who helped my father plough and hoe,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was my especial pet and pride,</p> -<p class="verse0">Now, since brother Sam had died.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, when my city aunt arrived</p> -<p class="verse0">To take her pick, at once, I strived</p> -<p class="verse0">To be selected as her choice,</p> -<p class="verse0">For Joe was pet among the boys,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then we could together go,</p> -<p class="verse0">The city sights each other show.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, sure enough, our aunty came</p> -<p class="verse0">A-riding grandly up the lane,</p> -<p class="verse0">And caught me in my dishabille,</p> -<p class="verse0">Much against my wayward will;</p> -<p class="verse0">For I had hoped she’d find me clean,</p> -<p class="verse0">That she might then and there have seen</p> -<p class="verse0">How well I’d look in city guise.</p> -<p class="verse0">Why did she take me by surprise?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The Diamond State was then our home,</p> -<p class="verse0">And aunty came from Quakerdom,</p> -<p class="verse0">A-looking prim and quite severe,</p> -<p class="verse0">But still, I felt I needn’t fear,</p> -<p class="verse0">For I had much to recommend</p> -<p class="verse0">My ladyship, you may depend.</p> -<p class="verse0">I dressed myself with special care,</p> -<p class="verse0">And put on quite a company air;</p> -<p class="verse0">And, strutting past my maiden aunt,</p> -<p class="verse0">I wondered what more she could want;</p> -<p class="verse0">She put her specs upon her nose,</p> -<p class="verse0">And closely scanned my country clothes,</p> -<p class="verse0">And asked if I was always good;</p> -<p class="verse0">Never naughty, pert, or rude.</p> -<p class="verse0">I shunned her kind but searching eye,</p> -<p class="verse0">And half resolved, I’d not reply,</p> -<p class="verse0">As I had nothing good to tell,</p> -<p class="verse0">My silence might do just as well.</p> -<p class="verse0">I thought she’d find out, soon enough,</p> -<p class="verse0">My manners were a little rough,</p> -<p class="verse0">And did not want to disenchant</p> -<p class="verse0">My new-made friend, and city aunt.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, looking meek and kind of shy,</p> -<p class="verse0">I paused, before I made reply;</p> -<p class="verse0">Then told her sometimes I was bad,</p> -<p class="verse0">But blamed the company that I had;</p> -<p class="verse0">’Twas never any fault of mine,</p> -<p class="verse0">If ever I cut up a shine,</p> -<p class="verse0">And any mischief that was done</p> -<p class="verse0">Was nearly always just for fun.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So aunty smiled, and hoped I’d be</p> -<p class="verse0">A little lady, and she’d see</p> -<p class="verse0">If she could take me up to town,</p> -<p class="verse0">And try to tone my manners down.</p> -<p class="verse0">I then, at once, desired to know,</p> -<p class="verse0">If she couldn’t take my brother, Joe.</p> -<p class="verse0">She said she rather thought she would,</p> -<p class="verse0">If both would promise to be good.</p> -<p class="verse0">So off, in haste, I quickly ran,</p> -<p class="verse0">To tell of aunty’s pleasant plan,</p> -<p class="verse0">To dream of city’s new delights,</p> -<p class="verse0">And think of all the wondrous sights</p> -<p class="verse0">That soon would greet our verdant eyes</p> -<p class="verse0">And fill our hearts with glad surprise.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">So, then we soon began to pack—</p> -<p class="verse0">Our outfit most was on our back—</p> -<p class="verse0">Our trunks and traps were small and few,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which, fortunately, aunty knew.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, on a balmy, summer day,</p> -<p class="verse0">We all prepared to start away</p> -<p class="verse0">To leave our home and mother, kind,</p> -<p class="verse0">And in the world our lot to find;</p> -<p class="verse0">When will life ever seem as bright</p> -<p class="verse0">As that receding from our sight?</p> -<p class="verse0">So, slowly riding down the lane</p> -<p class="verse0">We ne’er could call our own again,</p> -<p class="verse0">Poor mother wept in silent woe,</p> -<p class="verse0">But thought it best for us to go.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, next you’ll see the orphan pair</p> -<p class="verse0">In the midst of city’s stifled air;</p> -<p class="verse0">No fields, no lanes, no trees to climb,</p> -<p class="verse0">A-wondering how we’d kill the time.</p> -<p class="verse0">What earthly goods we’d gladly give,</p> -<p class="verse0">To get back home again to live!</p> -<p class="verse0">Our aunty, sensible and kind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Told us to leave regrets behind,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And, in her wise and pleasant way,</p> -<p class="verse0">Informed us, life was not all play.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But childhood’s troubles seldom last</p> -<p class="verse0">Much longer than the cause is past.</p> -<p class="verse0">The city soon began to be</p> -<p class="verse0">A wonder and a joy to me;</p> -<p class="verse0">My aunty got me pretty clothes</p> -<p class="verse0">And taught me how to turn my toes;</p> -<p class="verse0">She’d dress me up so clean and sweet</p> -<p class="verse0">And send me out into the street.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d miss the “pies” and “puddles” there</p> -<p class="verse0">And to the gutters I’d repair,</p> -<p class="verse0">And play and paddle there in glee,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till I was summoned in to tea.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">My vixen spirit, as of old,</p> -<p class="verse0">New mischief daily would unfold,</p> -<p class="verse0">And aunty shuddered, as she saw</p> -<p class="verse0">How little I respected law;</p> -<p class="verse0">So, wishing me to live by rule,</p> -<p class="verse0">She entered me, at once, in school.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="fs80 lsp">SCHOOL LIFE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">One Monday morn in early Fall</p> -<p class="verse0">We made the nearest school a call,</p> -<p class="verse0">To ascertain if they would take</p> -<p class="verse0">A pupil willing to forsake</p> -<p class="verse0">All mischief and frivolity,</p> -<p class="verse0">And strictly stick to A, B, C.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The teacher showed a little doubt—</p> -<p class="verse0">She saw how I began to pout;</p> -<p class="verse0">I did not like the busy looks</p> -<p class="verse0">Of slates and pencils, chalk and books—</p> -<p class="verse0">I felt I’d much prefer to be</p> -<p class="verse0">A stranger to my A, B, C.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I knew more now, at any rate,</p> -<p class="verse0">Than many children did at eight,</p> -<p class="verse0">Then why should I, that was so smart,</p> -<p class="verse0">Go learning lessons all by heart?</p> -<p class="verse0">I showed my feelings in my face,</p> -<p class="verse0">And aunty, vexed at my disgrace,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">At once enrolled my naughty name</p> -<p class="verse0">Upon the future book of fame.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I then and there began to climb</p> -<p class="verse0">The hill of science; oh! the time</p> -<p class="verse0">It took to teach me how to do;</p> -<p class="verse0">But I fought it out, and struggled through.</p> -<p class="verse0">The teacher seldom suited me—</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, we never could agree;</p> -<p class="verse0">Her notions always seem so queer,</p> -<p class="verse0">I wondered why they put her there;</p> -<p class="verse0">And aunty, too, was odd as she,</p> -<p class="verse0">Both seemed to be opposed to me.</p> -<p class="verse0">I felt if ever I grew big,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d love to give them both a dig.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">At times my patience would give out;</p> -<p class="verse0">You couldn’t play a bit without</p> -<p class="verse0">At once, she’d raise an awful fuss—</p> -<p class="verse0">A little laugh would make a muss.</p> -<p class="verse0">You couldn’t talk in any peace,</p> -<p class="verse0">But you’d be told at once to cease,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And look upon your book or slate,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or be kept in till awful late,</p> -<p class="verse0">You even couldn’t turn around,</p> -<p class="verse0">No matter what the sight or sound</p> -<p class="verse0">That made you want to look behind—</p> -<p class="verse0">You might have just as well been blind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or deaf and dumb, for all she cared—</p> -<p class="verse0">She always kept you kind of scared.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">No matter what you had to say,</p> -<p class="verse0">She’d surely look another way,</p> -<p class="verse0">And talk and teach, and teach and talk;</p> -<p class="verse0">Slate and pencil, book and chalk;</p> -<p class="verse0">Were ever at her finger ends—</p> -<p class="verse0">I wonder she had any friends.</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, she hadn’t many there,</p> -<p class="verse0">Except the good girls round her chair.</p> -<p class="verse0">They seemed to think her very nice;</p> -<p class="verse0">I wished they’d taken my advice,</p> -<p class="verse0">And never mind a word she said;</p> -<p class="verse0">They soon would found, what motive led</p> -<p class="verse0">Her to appear so sweet to them,</p> -<p class="verse0">And that she wasn’t such a gem.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She had a special spite at me,</p> -<p class="verse0">The reason why I couldn’t see;</p> -<p class="verse0">She’d scold me soundly every day,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whether I would work or play;</p> -<p class="verse0">And then she’d often keep me in,</p> -<p class="verse0">For just a little bit of sin,</p> -<p class="verse0">That no one else would scarcely see—</p> -<p class="verse0">She was just as mean as mean could be.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">If it hadn’t been for family pride,</p> -<p class="verse0">I think I’d left that school or died;</p> -<p class="verse0">But aunty thought it best to stay,</p> -<p class="verse0">And she nearly always had her way.</p> -<p class="verse0">So there I was for one long year,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then I left without a tear.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d learned to read and write and spell,</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, they said I studied well.</p> -<p class="verse0">My failing was behaving bad,</p> -<p class="verse0">At least that’s what the teacher said;</p> -<p class="verse0">But she was always saying things,</p> -<p class="verse0">And telling tales that trouble brings.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve left her class, I’m glad to say—</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ll try a new one now to-day.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Alas, a-lack-a-day—ah! me,</p> -<p class="verse0">I fear we too will disagree;</p> -<p class="verse0">There’s much that’s new I want to know,</p> -<p class="verse0">And ask the girls if they will show</p> -<p class="verse0">Exactly how the things are done,</p> -<p class="verse0">Besides we want a little fun,</p> -<p class="verse0">Just to cheer us as we learn—</p> -<p class="verse0">The teachers are so stiff and stern,</p> -<p class="verse0">I wouldn’t be one for a farm—</p> -<p class="verse0">They do the children so much harm;</p> -<p class="verse0">Though aunty said to-night at tea</p> -<p class="verse0">That’s what she’s going to make of me.</p> -<p class="verse0">I don’t know what I’ve ever done</p> -<p class="verse0">To her, indeed to any one,</p> -<p class="verse0">That I should suffer such a fate,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or learn a trade I love to hate.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I tell you what, when I get big,</p> -<p class="verse0">You’ll see me dance a different jig;</p> -<p class="verse0">I won’t be sober, staid, and stern,</p> -<p class="verse0">And try to make the children learn.</p> -<p class="verse0">Poor little things, I’ll let them be,</p> -<p class="verse0">Remembering how it was with me.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Just worry, lecture, preach, and scold,</p> -<p class="verse0">Enough to make a young one old.</p> -<p class="verse0">At school and home I had no rest,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was always getting blamed or blest,</p> -<p class="verse0">And mostly too without a cause,</p> -<p class="verse0">Just for breaking little laws,</p> -<p class="verse0">That never should, by rights, been made,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor never would by Bessie’s aid.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, thus my early life was spent,</p> -<p class="verse0">From class to class I yearly went;</p> -<p class="verse0">Each teacher seemed to be my foe,</p> -<p class="verse0">And quite content to have me go;</p> -<p class="verse0">But still I had my share of fun,</p> -<p class="verse0">In spite of all the scolding done.</p> -<p class="verse0">In tricks and pranks I took delight,</p> -<p class="verse0">And misbehaved with all my might;</p> -<p class="verse0">In tact and lessons I excelled,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or I should long since been expelled.</p> -<p class="verse0">The merits that I got to-day</p> -<p class="verse0">To-morrow’s marks would wipe away.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But, at the end of every term,</p> -<p class="verse0">Remorse and resolution firm</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Would fill me with a new desire;</p> -<p class="verse0">But “all the fat was in the fire”</p> -<p class="verse0">The minute mischief crossed my way,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which it, alas! did every day.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Thus school life, with its hopes and fears—</p> -<p class="verse0">At least the first short seven years—</p> -<p class="verse0">Was drawing nearly to a close,</p> -<p class="verse0">When, all at once, the question rose—</p> -<p class="verse0">What should next be done with me.</p> -<p class="verse0">The teachers gladly did agree,</p> -<p class="verse0">That I should try my luck and leave—</p> -<p class="verse0">The high-school might my name retrieve.</p> -<p class="verse0">So I studied hard, both night and day,</p> -<p class="verse0">(But leisure took for fun and play),</p> -<p class="verse0">Till testing time, with questions hard,</p> -<p class="verse0">Brought me my happy hope’s reward.</p> -<p class="verse0">I did not pass with honors high—</p> -<p class="verse0">I guess you know the reason why;</p> -<p class="verse0">But still I passed, and was content,</p> -<p class="verse0">And to my laurels proudly went,</p> -<p class="verse0">And talked as big and looked as wise</p> -<p class="verse0">As those that got the highest prize;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And felt it was a happy school,</p> -<p class="verse0">Possessing such a precious jewel.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, at the age of green fourteen,</p> -<p class="verse0">I felt as proud as any queen.</p> -<p class="verse0">A new leaf I resolved to turn,</p> -<p class="verse0">And study hard and laurels earn;</p> -<p class="verse0">I stood quite high for one so young,</p> -<p class="verse0">And could I only held my tongue</p> -<p class="verse0">I might have been almost a star,</p> -<p class="verse0">But mischief would my merits mar;</p> -<p class="verse0">For what I gained by work and tact,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d loose by some rebellious act:</p> -<p class="verse0">I sacrificed myself to fun—</p> -<p class="verse0">My ablest efforts were undone</p> -<p class="verse0">By some wild freak or fractured rule,</p> -<p class="verse0">That put me down a dot in school.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I soon began, as heretofore,</p> -<p class="verse0">To find the teachers quite a bore,</p> -<p class="verse0">In interfering all the time—</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed it seems a chronic crime,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">To be officious and prevent</p> -<p class="verse0">The pleasures that were my intent.</p> -<p class="verse0">They so delight in being dry</p> -<p class="verse0">And dull and stiff. I wonder why?</p> -<p class="verse0">They looked with frowning doubt and dread</p> -<p class="verse0">On every thing I did and said.</p> -<p class="verse0">At times they’d give a sickly smile</p> -<p class="verse0">At my peculiar wayward style;</p> -<p class="verse0">But in a moment they would be</p> -<p class="verse0">A-pointing morals all at me.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">As we were taught full forty things,</p> -<p class="verse0">With names as long as corset strings,</p> -<p class="verse0">And teachers stern and dignified,</p> -<p class="verse0">I future punishment denied.</p> -<p class="verse0">I felt we had our troubles here,</p> -<p class="verse0">And naught to come was aught to fear.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Away into the quiet night</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d pore and ponder by the light</p> -<p class="verse0">That poets call the “midnight oil,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Some crooked problem to uncoil,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Or draw a map, or parse a verse,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or write an essay, which was worse,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or worry with celestial globes—</p> -<p class="verse0">The very thought my bosom probes</p> -<p class="verse0">With recollections full of woe.</p> -<p class="verse0">What good is it for us to know</p> -<p class="verse0">That Mars has belts or Saturn rings—</p> -<p class="verse0">A thousand other different things?</p> -<p class="verse0">That don’t concern this world at all,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor never have since Adam’s fall.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then scanning Milton through and through</p> -<p class="verse0">Is what I did despise to do;</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor did I care a single dime</p> -<p class="verse0">If all his blank verse had been rhyme,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or was awry or wrong in rhythm,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or had it been with him—in Heaven.</p> -<p class="verse0">That Paradise was lost I knew—</p> -<p class="verse0">I never doubted it was true;</p> -<p class="verse0">Then why extend the dreary tale,</p> -<p class="verse0">To worry pupils—maid and male?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Mythology and classic lore</p> -<p class="verse0">Is such an everlasting bore.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The other poets we’d dissect,</p> -<p class="verse0">And try their metre to correct—</p> -<p class="verse0">And murder many of their lays</p> -<p class="verse0">So sadly that it would amaze</p> -<p class="verse0">The sainted soul, could it but know</p> -<p class="verse0">The scandalous scanning done below!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then algebra, with <em>x</em> and <em>z</em>,</p> -<p class="verse0">Would always vex and puzzle me,</p> -<p class="verse0">And make me wish that each equation</p> -<p class="verse0">Was in the sea, with mensuration.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d sigh and cipher for an hour,</p> -<p class="verse0">And long for calculating power</p> -<p class="verse0">To get the cube root or the square,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or puzzle out the proper share</p> -<p class="verse0">That A and B would have to get</p> -<p class="verse0">In value either gross or net.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then hunting rivers, lakes, and bays,</p> -<p class="verse0">And telling all their different ways</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Of rising, flowing, and their end,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or with what waters they may blend;</p> -<p class="verse0">And all their lengths and widths and size,</p> -<p class="verse0">And what each state or town supplies,</p> -<p class="verse0">Of products, imports, exports, ores</p> -<p class="verse0">That yearly pass its special shores.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Ah me! the mountains I would climb</p> -<p class="verse0">To find the height, and what a time</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve had with longitudes and poles,</p> -<p class="verse0">Enough to try poor pupils’ souls—</p> -<p class="verse0">And tropics, latitudes, and zones,</p> -<p class="verse0">That gave me geographic groans.</p> -<p class="verse0">And then we had to daily tell</p> -<p class="verse0">The capitals and towns as well,</p> -<p class="verse0">Of territories and of states,</p> -<p class="verse0">And give in full the different dates</p> -<p class="verse0">Of settlements and civil wars,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then we’d have five minutes pause,</p> -<p class="verse0">Before our history began.</p> -<p class="verse0">Thus our daily duties ran.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We never knew an hour’s peace;</p> -<p class="verse0">For if we weren’t in Rome or Greece,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Discussing troubles old and stale,</p> -<p class="verse0">Some insurrection to bewail,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d have our massacres at home,</p> -<p class="verse0">To fill our hearts with bygone gloom,</p> -<p class="verse0">Rebellions, riots, rows, and wars,</p> -<p class="verse0">Breaking all the country’s laws;</p> -<p class="verse0">But then that was so long ago,</p> -<p class="verse0">I hardly think we need to know</p> -<p class="verse0">All those troubles that are past,</p> -<p class="verse0">It’s bad enough to know the last.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And then I think it’s really vile</p> -<p class="verse0">To take us through the British isle,</p> -<p class="verse0">And worry o’er her wars and woes,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her usurpations, overthrows,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her kings and queens both killed and crowned.</p> -<p class="verse0">We’ll never get a single pound,</p> -<p class="verse0">For all our interest in their fate,</p> -<p class="verse0">No matter how large their estate.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I’m tired now of history.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve learned it all, and can not see</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Why we have to know so much</p> -<p class="verse0">About the English, French, and Dutch,</p> -<p class="verse0">And all these men of ancient times,</p> -<p class="verse0">Their virtue, valor, and their crimes.</p> -<p class="verse0">We have as many of to-day</p> -<p class="verse0">As we can well their traits portray.</p> -<p class="verse0">Then why go back to ages past</p> -<p class="verse0">To get our heroes for a cast?</p> -<p class="verse0">Or worry o’er the wars of yore,</p> -<p class="verse0">When we can have them at our door,</p> -<p class="verse0">Green and fresh, of recent date,</p> -<p class="verse0">In our own land, indeed our state?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">What trials teachers do invent.</p> -<p class="verse0">They never seem to be content</p> -<p class="verse0">Without a torture of some kind</p> -<p class="verse0">To agitate the pupil’s mind.</p> -<p class="verse0">And as for rest or idle hours,</p> -<p class="verse0">The very thought their temper sours.</p> -<p class="verse0">But study early, study late,</p> -<p class="verse0">Things you like and things you hate;</p> -<p class="verse0">Study hard and study long,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whether you are weak or strong.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I tried my best to keep my brain</p> -<p class="verse0">Healthy, sound, and free from pain;</p> -<p class="verse0">I never had it suffer aught</p> -<p class="verse0">From exercise of weighty thought.</p> -<p class="verse0">All extra care and overwork,</p> -<p class="verse0">My great ambition was to shirk;</p> -<p class="verse0">To save the tissues of my mind,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve always been somewhat inclined!</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d study just to struggle through,</p> -<p class="verse0">But not enough to make me blue,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor any recreation miss,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which now I think accounts for this</p> -<p class="verse0">Entire health which is my boast,</p> -<p class="verse0">That over study might have lost.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In moderation thus I went</p> -<p class="verse0">From grade to grade, and was content.</p> -<p class="verse0">In tricks and trifling, mirth and fun,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was always passing number one.</p> -<p class="verse0">The teachers vexed at every turn,</p> -<p class="verse0">And wanting me to leave or learn,</p> -<p class="verse0">Would often help me gladly through</p> -<p class="verse0">Their special class into a new,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Thus hoping then and there to find</p> -<p class="verse0">More occupation for my mind,</p> -<p class="verse0">And for themselves relief and rest.</p> -<p class="verse0">How little my adieus distressed;</p> -<p class="verse0">For those bereft of such a prize</p> -<p class="verse0">Looked coolly on with driest eyes!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Once or twice I skipped a grade,</p> -<p class="verse0">And cast the good girls in the shade,</p> -<p class="verse0">Thus rid that teacher most entire</p> -<p class="verse0">Of all the mischief I’d inspire;</p> -<p class="verse0">’Twas less in learning than in luck,</p> -<p class="verse0">Together with my tact and pluck,</p> -<p class="verse0">That helped me prematurely through,</p> -<p class="verse0">But that is nothing odd or new.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I gushed as much at my advance</p> -<p class="verse0">As though it was no game of chance,</p> -<p class="verse0">And never hinted in the least,</p> -<p class="verse0">As honors on me so increased,</p> -<p class="verse0">’Twas troubled teachers pushing me</p> -<p class="verse0">To get me through thus rapidly.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So thus, for two years and a half—</p> -<p class="verse0">I think of it, and have to laugh—</p> -<p class="verse0">I spent the chequered, closing days</p> -<p class="verse0">Of school life, with its blame and praise,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till all at once the president,</p> -<p class="verse0">On my departure firmly bent,</p> -<p class="verse0">Informed me I must now begin</p> -<p class="verse0">My graduating bays to win.</p> -<p class="verse0">He seemed quite glad to have me leave,</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, there’s no one seemed to grieve</p> -<p class="verse0">About my going at this date,</p> -<p class="verse0">So I resolved to graduate.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">My parting essay now I write,</p> -<p class="verse0">And try sad feelings to excite.</p> -<p class="verse0">I use the most pathetic strain,</p> -<p class="verse0">As though I’d willingly remain</p> -<p class="verse0">To share those sweet scholastic joys</p> -<p class="verse0">That leaving school at once destroys.</p> -<p class="verse0">I tried to make their bosoms sigh</p> -<p class="verse0">For blessings now about to fly.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But, ah! alas, what cool content</p> -<p class="verse0">My phrases to their faces lent!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">I sadly spoke of happy scenes</p> -<p class="verse0">Of school life, with its hopes and dreams,</p> -<p class="verse0">Of patient teachers, just and kind,</p> -<p class="verse0">And wondered if we’d ever find</p> -<p class="verse0">In life again, such friends as these,</p> -<p class="verse0">(And, aside, I thought) as hard to please.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I really felt it was a time</p> -<p class="verse0">When I should utter thoughts sublime,</p> -<p class="verse0">But no one seemed to be disposed</p> -<p class="verse0">To feel the slightest discomposed;</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor could I hear a sob or sigh,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or see a single moistened eye!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Each teacher that I left behind</p> -<p class="verse0">Seemed reconciled and well resigned</p> -<p class="verse0">To hear my valedictory read,</p> -<p class="verse0">And every parting word I said</p> -<p class="verse0">Gave pleasure, I could plainly see,</p> -<p class="verse0">To all the high-school faculty.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">That day in June I’ll ne’er forget,</p> -<p class="verse0">Their happy faces haunt me yet.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">So eager, anxious, and content,</p> -<p class="verse0">To lose a light, ’twas only lent.</p> -<p class="verse0">I felt their hearts were made of stone,</p> -<p class="verse0">To be so glad when I was gone.</p> -<p class="verse0">Our president, so mild and meek,</p> -<p class="verse0">So happy was, he scarce could speak;</p> -<p class="verse0">He said my <em>welfare</em> was his aim,</p> -<p class="verse0">But now my <em>farewell</em> was the same!</p> -<p class="verse0">So I hurriedly my parchment drew,</p> -<p class="verse0">And bid the <em>happy</em> school adieu.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3 class="pfs80 lsp">GIRLHOOD.</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Thus I left those hallowed halls,</p> -<p class="verse0">Its blackboards and its pictured walls,</p> -<p class="verse0">With maps and charts of every size,</p> -<p class="verse0">To torture brain and tease the eyes;</p> -<p class="verse0">And fondly fancied I was through;</p> -<p class="verse0">I knew twice now what others knew,</p> -<p class="verse0">And all I had to do was show</p> -<p class="verse0">My talents off, and catch a beau.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">What consternation then was mine,</p> -<p class="verse0">When aunt’s original design</p> -<p class="verse0">Was carried out, to have me teach—</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d almost rather beg or preach;</p> -<p class="verse0">But as it was her great desire,</p> -<p class="verse0">And as I had no wealthy sire,</p> -<p class="verse0">My talents must my banker be—</p> -<p class="verse0">So I took a class in A, B, C.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Again I must divide my time,</p> -<p class="verse0">between a share of prose and rhyme;</p> -<p class="verse0">I taught all day which was my prose—</p> -<p class="verse0">The rhyme in evening, was my beau.</p> -<p class="verse0">My daily duties never flagged,</p> -<p class="verse0">But evening callers often lagged;</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d wonder too how they could know</p> -<p class="verse0">My many charms and tarry so!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">How often evenings I have sat,</p> -<p class="verse0">Impromptu welcomes all so pat;</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d tell the girl to say “I’m home,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Alas the callers never come!</p> -<p class="verse0">And I would sit and read a book,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d read before, and never look</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Disconcerted or annoyed,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till evening hopes were all destroyed.</p> -<p class="verse0">Then, disappointed, I’d retire,</p> -<p class="verse0">And try to think of something higher,</p> -<p class="verse0">But bitter pangs would rend my heart,</p> -<p class="verse0">And dreams and nightmares make me start.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Sometimes a beau would happen in,</p> -<p class="verse0">And make me most commit a sin,</p> -<p class="verse0">By seeming very much surprised,</p> -<p class="verse0">When really I had half surmised</p> -<p class="verse0">That he was coming for a week—</p> -<p class="verse0">But this was just a girlish freak.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">They really ought to like to come,</p> -<p class="verse0">I made them feel so much at home;</p> -<p class="verse0">They seemed so happy while they stayed,</p> -<p class="verse0">And left reluctantly, they said;</p> -<p class="verse0">And I would often think it true,</p> -<p class="verse0">And show my sorrow—wouldn’t you?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But, ah, alas! I soon began</p> -<p class="verse0">To see the sad deceit of man;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">I’d sit and watch and wait in vain,</p> -<p class="verse0">My nose against the window-pane,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or listen with an anxious spell,</p> -<p class="verse0">To hear the ringing of the bell,</p> -<p class="verse0">And bless the beggar that would dare,</p> -<p class="verse0">To waken hope and bring despair!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Thus matters stood at seventeen—</p> -<p class="verse0">An age that’s always noted been</p> -<p class="verse0">For sunny happiness and joys—</p> -<p class="verse0">And so would mine, but for the boys;</p> -<p class="verse0">The very ones that suited me,</p> -<p class="verse0">My aunty never seemed to see</p> -<p class="verse0">With loving eyes as I desired,</p> -<p class="verse0">And those she liked I ne’er admired;</p> -<p class="verse0">And when we did on one agree</p> -<p class="verse0">He hardly ever fancied me!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The scrapes and troubles I have had,</p> -<p class="verse0">Enough to make a martyr sad;</p> -<p class="verse0">These sorrows didn’t happen once,</p> -<p class="verse0">But worried me for weeks and months.</p> -<p class="verse0">At last becoming better known,</p> -<p class="verse0">New suitors I began to own,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And having more, had bitter choice</p> -<p class="verse0">And had occasion to rejoice</p> -<p class="verse0">That I was blest with lots of beaus,</p> -<p class="verse0">But none seemed anxious to propose.</p> -<p class="verse0">They’d come and go with thoughtless air,</p> -<p class="verse0">And I, pretending not to care,</p> -<p class="verse0">Would bid them welcome and adieu,</p> -<p class="verse0">As sweet and kind as if I knew</p> -<p class="verse0">Their very heart-throb was for me—</p> -<p class="verse0">Their lives one line of constancy!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">How many sorry sighs I’ve had</p> -<p class="verse0">About a wayward truant lad,</p> -<p class="verse0">How oft “unwisely but too well,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Would love assert its magic spell,</p> -<p class="verse0">And hold my heart so tight and strong—</p> -<p class="verse0">I’m glad it never lasted long!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I’ve thought at times I couldn’t live,</p> -<p class="verse0">Unless Augustus would forgive</p> -<p class="verse0">The little pique I showed last night,</p> -<p class="verse0">Done really more in love than spite.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve gone to bed and tried to weep</p> -<p class="verse0">Myself into a troubled sleep;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">But oft the sorrow I’d forget,</p> -<p class="verse0">Before I found my eyes were wet!</p> -<p class="verse0">Or Morpheus would my senses blind,</p> -<p class="verse0">And leave love’s trials all behind.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">How kind in Nature to prepare</p> -<p class="verse0">A heart elastic, that can bear</p> -<p class="verse0">The miseries and weighty woes</p> -<p class="verse0">That must attend the age of beaus.</p> -<p class="verse0">For, with so many different kind,</p> -<p class="verse0">You couldn’t well make up your mind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Especially when you didn’t know</p> -<p class="verse0">Which was destined for your beau.</p> -<p class="verse0">To wait and wait, and then to find</p> -<p class="verse0">The wrong one is the one inclined</p> -<p class="verse0">To breathe his hopes into your ears,</p> -<p class="verse0">A nuisance is that seldom cheers.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Just after such a blow as this,</p> -<p class="verse0">I thought I saw much future bliss,</p> -<p class="verse0">In a student of the “nobby” kind,</p> -<p class="verse0">So rich and handsome and refined.</p> -<p class="verse0">But, oh, dear me! my brief delight</p> -<p class="verse0">Was shattered by his getting tight,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And a love of fully thirty days</p> -<p class="verse0">Was checked by aunt in many ways.</p> -<p class="verse0">I thought at last it might be best</p> -<p class="verse0">To let my student lover rest.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">My next, an artist proud and poor,</p> -<p class="verse0">By chance then living in next door,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was always at my beck and call,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which aunty didn’t like at all—</p> -<p class="verse0">She said he was a fop and dandy.</p> -<p class="verse0">To me he was so nice and handy,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then so pleasant and polite,</p> -<p class="verse0">We had engagements every night;</p> -<p class="verse0">Till all at once my artist beau</p> -<p class="verse0">Was told by aunt ’twas best to go—</p> -<p class="verse0">The love that lasted three long months</p> -<p class="verse0">Was crushed and killed by her at once.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And then I had an interval</p> -<p class="verse0">Of several weeks in which to fill</p> -<p class="verse0">The place of lovers I had lost—</p> -<p class="verse0">But no one knew the pain it cost,</p> -<p class="verse0">And nothing but a handsome clerk</p> -<p class="verse0">I chanced to meet while at his work,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Could make amends for all my woes;</p> -<p class="verse0">But he, alas! did not propose.</p> -<p class="verse0">I think he would, but times were hard,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which often happy hopes retard.</p> -<p class="verse0">I, knowing this, would not allow</p> -<p class="verse0">Him any chance to make a vow,</p> -<p class="verse0">For poverty, though not a crime,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has always been a dread of mine.</p> -<p class="verse0">His handsome eyes and wavy hair,</p> -<p class="verse0">Were great temptations I declare;</p> -<p class="verse0">And then his love was firm and true</p> -<p class="verse0">But he hadn’t cash enough for two.</p> -<p class="verse0">So we sighed in silence o’er our fate,</p> -<p class="verse0">And wisely thought it best to wait—</p> -<p class="verse0">The other callers too seemed slow,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve often wondered why ’twas so.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I had no wealth, or charms to praise;</p> -<p class="verse0">But, then, I had such “winning ways,”</p> -<p class="verse0">That ought to take, and may-be will—</p> -<p class="verse0">At least I won’t give up until</p> -<p class="verse0">I hear from some more hopeful source,</p> -<p class="verse0">All true love has a crooked course.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">I know the chap I’d like to catch—</p> -<p class="verse0">I think ’twould be a splendid match—</p> -<p class="verse0">I wonder what he thinks of me?</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ll wait a while and we will see;</p> -<p class="verse0">He has a tender sort of way</p> -<p class="verse0">When he wishes me to sing or play;</p> -<p class="verse0">And, when the hour comes to leave,</p> -<p class="verse0">He often looks disposed to grieve.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He’s handsome, too, but awful shy,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has such a melting, mellow eye,</p> -<p class="verse0">It makes me reconciled to wait</p> -<p class="verse0">If just to see, at any rate,</p> -<p class="verse0">If time won’t ripen his desire,</p> -<p class="verse0">And sparks of love for me inspire;</p> -<p class="verse0">And while I wait he’ll never know</p> -<p class="verse0">I ever wished to have a beau.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Here twice this week, I do declare,</p> -<p class="verse0">And took me out once to the fair;</p> -<p class="verse0">I really think he’s coming round,</p> -<p class="verse0">So I’ll keep cool and hold my ground;</p> -<p class="verse0">Should he propose, I’ll show surprise,</p> -<p class="verse0">And stammer, No, with drooping eyes:</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">That’s the way they do in books,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor show their haste by eager looks;</p> -<p class="verse0">I hope he won’t discover mine,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor take in earnest my decline,</p> -<p class="verse0">It really wasn’t <em>final</em>, nay,</p> -<p class="verse0">It only meant a slight delay</p> -<p class="verse0">In making up my maiden mind,</p> -<p class="verse0">And, in repeating he will find</p> -<p class="verse0">That after the surprise was o’er,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d “love and honor and adore.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But blessed luck, and happy fate,</p> -<p class="verse0">That didn’t give me long to wait.</p> -<p class="verse0">One quiet eve, in early fall,</p> -<p class="verse0">He came, and made a lovely call;</p> -<p class="verse0">No other beaus that night appeared,</p> -<p class="verse0">As both of us at first had feared;</p> -<p class="verse0">And aunty being out of town,</p> -<p class="verse0">We didn’t dread her maiden frown.</p> -<p class="verse0">So being favored thus by fate,</p> -<p class="verse0">His smothered love he did relate.</p> -<p class="verse0">Our happiness and new-made bliss</p> -<p class="verse0">Was sanctioned by the sealing kiss.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I quite forgot the sighs and looks</p> -<p class="verse0">So recommended in the books,</p> -<p class="verse0">And answered, Yes, without delay</p> -<p class="verse0">Or looking once another way.</p> -<p class="verse0">He found I wasn’t hard to woo,</p> -<p class="verse0">My answer came so frank and true;</p> -<p class="verse0">For when you’re suited, what’s the sense</p> -<p class="verse0">Of being kept in such suspense,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till silly rules of etiquette</p> -<p class="verse0">Love’s happy longings all upset?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">That evening Cupid’s capers thrived,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till all at once my aunt arrived;</p> -<p class="verse0">I fear we guilty look and feel,</p> -<p class="verse0">Our awkward actions can’t conceal</p> -<p class="verse0">How matters stand, but I will try</p> -<p class="verse0">By tact detection to defy.</p> -<p class="verse0">We treat each other calmly cool,</p> -<p class="verse0">Talk carelessly of church and school,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or any subject but the one</p> -<p class="verse0">That we have just agreed upon.</p> -<p class="verse0">To please my aunty’s prudish ear,</p> -<p class="verse0">We shunned the theme to us so dear,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Till passing hours in hasty flight,</p> -<p class="verse0">Suggest to us a sad good-night.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now he is gone—how queer I feel!</p> -<p class="verse0">I wish I only dared reveal</p> -<p class="verse0">My pent up joy unto my aunt;</p> -<p class="verse0">I want to, but I really can’t.</p> -<p class="verse0">She always seemed to like this beau</p> -<p class="verse0">As well as any that I know,</p> -<p class="verse0">But then she never thought that he</p> -<p class="verse0">Would ever care a fig for me;</p> -<p class="verse0">And now I fear that when she finds</p> -<p class="verse0">He really loves and has designs,</p> -<p class="verse0">She might at once discover flaws</p> -<p class="verse0">To cause her to object or pause,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then what misery would be mine</p> -<p class="verse0">No heart could know or tongue define.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The fearful Rubicon is past;</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ve told her all—her sanction asked,</p> -<p class="verse0">And she consents—most strange to tell,</p> -<p class="verse0">I find my suitor suits her well;</p> -<p class="verse0">But wonders what he e’er could see</p> -<p class="verse0">In such a wayward girl as me.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, I’ve often wondered too,</p> -<p class="verse0">Though other people never knew,</p> -<p class="verse0">But what I thought I was a prize;</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor did my suitor e’er surmise—</p> -<p class="verse0">He thought me all that he desired;</p> -<p class="verse0">That trait in him I so admired!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">For total blindness in a beau</p> -<p class="verse0">Is one the best gifts that I know;</p> -<p class="verse0">So, feeling so secure in this,</p> -<p class="verse0">We might have lived a life of bliss,</p> -<p class="verse0">But for a couple other beau,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who thought at once that they’d propose;</p> -<p class="verse0">They never dreamed of it before,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor would till they had been four score.</p> -<p class="verse0">If I had still kept “fancy free,”</p> -<p class="verse0">They never would have fancied me.</p> -<p class="verse0">“It seldom rains but what it pours”—</p> -<p class="verse0">Too many beaus are often bores.</p> -<p class="verse0">I cutely kept my matters mum,</p> -<p class="verse0">But found it truly troublesome;</p> -<p class="verse0">I told them I was nothing loth</p> -<p class="verse0">To love, indeed to marry, both—</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">For still on mischief I was bent,</p> -<p class="verse0">And seldom said a word I meant;</p> -<p class="verse0">Must ever have my share of fun</p> -<p class="verse0">At sad expense of “number one.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I really felt, I blush to tell,</p> -<p class="verse0">That I was getting quite a “belle,”</p> -<p class="verse0">And could afford to put on airs,</p> -<p class="verse0">When offers tackled me in pairs!</p> -<p class="verse0">And then, too, I had been so fast</p> -<p class="verse0">In saying yes, that I would blast</p> -<p class="verse0">Those tender hopes I lately made—</p> -<p class="verse0">Two lovers cast one in the shade.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I timed my hours to see them all,</p> -<p class="verse0">Preventing, thus, a lover’s squall,</p> -<p class="verse0">And thought my wits were working fine,</p> -<p class="verse0">When, all at once, that aunt of mine</p> -<p class="verse0">Commenced, she said, “to smell a rat,”</p> -<p class="verse0">And then we had a lively spat.</p> -<p class="verse0">I hardly need to tell the rest—</p> -<p class="verse0">For aunty always came out best—</p> -<p class="verse0">And I was then obliged to be</p> -<p class="verse0">Content with one, instead of three,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And though I loved the first one well,</p> -<p class="verse0">I missed the two, I blush to tell.</p> -<p class="verse0">If aunty hadn’t been so queer,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d had three lovers all the year,</p> -<p class="verse0">But now I stuck to number one,</p> -<p class="verse0">And left the other two undone.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And neither of them seemed to die,</p> -<p class="verse0">I can not tell the reason why;</p> -<p class="verse0">They nearly always do in books,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or turn out bad, which I think looks</p> -<p class="verse0">More in keeping with their grief.</p> -<p class="verse0">I wonder how they got relief?</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, I hear they’re living yet,</p> -<p class="verse0">And doing well, and their regret</p> -<p class="verse0">Lasted but a little while,</p> -<p class="verse0">And terminated in <em>a smile</em></p> -<p class="verse0">That they had missed the happy chance—</p> -<p class="verse0">That wasn’t my fault, but my aunt’s.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But dear devoted number one</p> -<p class="verse0">Forgave the flirting I had done,</p> -<p class="verse0">And now, as always, I could see</p> -<p class="verse0">How much too good he was for me.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">At once I thought, with aunty’s aid,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d try to settle, and be staid,</p> -<p class="verse0">Becoming worthy of so fine</p> -<p class="verse0">And noble-hearted beau as mine.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">How easy ’tis for folks to talk,</p> -<p class="verse0">But oh! how hard to walk the chalk.</p> -<p class="verse0">The only hope that I could find</p> -<p class="verse0">Was keeping my beloved blind,</p> -<p class="verse0">An easy task, I’m glad to say.</p> -<p class="verse0">Till he wanted me to “name the day,”</p> -<p class="verse0">So what’s the use of waiting now</p> -<p class="verse0">For consummation of our vow,</p> -<p class="verse0">When heart and hand and ready will</p> -<p class="verse0">Are longing for us to fulfill</p> -<p class="verse0">That little form and loving rite</p> -<p class="verse0">That permanently hearts unite?</p> -<p class="verse0">So I shall name an early day,</p> -<p class="verse0">And wed at once, without delay.</p> -<p class="verse0"><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'My trosseau'">My trousseau</ins> won’t be much to get;</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, I’m never one to fret</p> -<p class="verse0">About apparel new and fine,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or try my neighbors to outshine.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And then, too, meaning no offense,</p> -<p class="verse0">To teachers in the abstract sense,</p> -<p class="verse0">Light and slender was my purse.</p> -<p class="verse0">To some, I know, that’s quite a curse;</p> -<p class="verse0">To me, it being nothing new,</p> -<p class="verse0">My wants were rather small and few.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">My preparations soon were done,</p> -<p class="verse0">Interspersed with lots of fun;</p> -<p class="verse0">My wedding day was near at hand</p> -<p class="verse0">And I was feeling mighty grand.</p> -<p class="verse0">And each of my “five hundred friends”</p> -<p class="verse0">Got tickets, and the fête attends;</p> -<p class="verse0">I, robed in white, with fleecy veil,</p> -<p class="verse0">With orange wreath and courtly trail,</p> -<p class="verse0">Fancied that, at my levee</p> -<p class="verse0">They’d all admire and envy me;</p> -<p class="verse0">But strange to say, I never heard</p> -<p class="verse0">The very first admiring word!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But then the guests, the gifts, the ring,</p> -<p class="verse0">And all the joys that weddings bring—</p> -<p class="verse0">A sweetish scare, I must confess,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was mingled with my happiness.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -<p class="verse0"><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'A could not see'">I could not see</ins> the sense of tears,</p> -<p class="verse0">When I had been, for several years,</p> -<p class="verse0">Just waiting for this happy day,</p> -<p class="verse0">To give my willing self away;</p> -<p class="verse0">Yet still I trembled as I swore,</p> -<p class="verse0">“To love and honor and adore.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">My single friends, that disbelieve</p> -<p class="verse0">My statements, I will give them leave</p> -<p class="verse0">To marry for themselves, and see</p> -<p class="verse0">How scared and happy they will be;</p> -<p class="verse0">My married ones already know</p> -<p class="verse0">That what I’ve said is really so.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The altar often ends the tale—</p> -<p class="verse0">The fair one then, that we assail,</p> -<p class="verse0">Is shelved at once, and cast aside</p> -<p class="verse0">As soon as she is made a bride;</p> -<p class="verse0">Now, twenty years of merry life</p> -<p class="verse0">Is passed—I became a wife.</p> -<p class="verse0">The “Naughty” heroine, you see,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has finished her “Biography.”</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="pfs80 lsp">A “GOOD BYE”-OGRAPHY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I’ll say a few words at the close,</p> -<p class="verse0">In case discussions ever rose</p> -<p class="verse0">About my traits in after life—</p> -<p class="verse0">I mean when I became a wife.</p> -<p class="verse0">A lenient husband’s charity,</p> -<p class="verse0">In trust and boundless love for me,</p> -<p class="verse0">O’erlooked my early erring ways,</p> -<p class="verse0">And filled my ear with daily praise.</p> -<p class="verse0">Indulgent friends would kindly say</p> -<p class="verse0">Such pleasant things most every day,</p> -<p class="verse0">And looked so mildly on my mirth,</p> -<p class="verse0"><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'It made be overrate'">It made me overrate</ins> my worth,</p> -<p class="verse0">And feel reformed, as aunty quotes,</p> -<p class="verse0">“That I have sown my wildest oats.”</p> -<p class="verse0">The stern realities of life</p> -<p class="verse0">Will sober down the gayest wife.</p> -<p class="verse0">The cares and crosses surely come</p> -<p class="verse0">To cloud, at times, the brightest home;</p> -<p class="verse0">And mine was not exempt from these,</p> -<p class="verse0">For sighs and sorrows and disease</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Were all, in turn, my painful lot—</p> -<p class="verse0">’Twere better though they were forgot.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ll finish in the brightest strain,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor have my friends peruse, with pain,</p> -<p class="verse0">A <em>clouded</em> page, when my intent</p> -<p class="verse0">Was solely for their merriment;</p> -<p class="verse0">They’ll see how short <em>these</em> twenty years,</p> -<p class="verse0">Beside the first, in print appears.</p> -<p class="verse0">The reason ’s easy understood:</p> -<p class="verse0">The traits depicted here are <em>good</em>,</p> -<p class="verse0">And occupy a smaller space</p> -<p class="verse0">Than <em>wicked</em> ones I had to trace.</p> -<p class="verse0">I wanting quite a good sized book,</p> -<p class="verse0">My sinnings and short comings took</p> -<p class="verse0">The other side, I do engage,</p> -<p class="verse0">Would hardly fill the second page.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’ll say, for fear my friends deplore,</p> -<p class="verse0">These vixen traits are mine no more;</p> -<p class="verse0">The heroine, once known as “Naughty,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Is now reformed—“fair, fat, and forty.”</p> -</div></div></div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter pg-brk"> -<img src="images/i_059.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption">The heroine, once known as “Naughty,”<br /> -Is now reformed—“fair, fat, and forty.”</div> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> - -<p class="p6" /> -<h2><a name="MISCELLANEOUS" id="MISCELLANEOUS"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">MISCELLANEOUS.</a></h2> -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE VILLAGE BELLE.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">A verdant youth of modest mien</p> -<p class="verse0">Fell in love with the village queen,</p> -<p class="verse2">When strolling through the clover;</p> -<p class="verse0">And in his homely honest way</p> -<p class="verse0">Rudely coined what he would say,</p> -<p class="verse2">And how he’d always love her.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He looked in her coquettish eye,</p> -<p class="verse0">With hope and fear for her reply;</p> -<p class="verse2">But she so careless seeming,</p> -<p class="verse0">Scarce listened to his honeyed words,</p> -<p class="verse0">But turned their sweetness into curds,</p> -<p class="verse2">And woke him from his dreaming.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She laughed aloud, with merry glee,</p> -<p class="verse0">At the very thought of such as he</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -<p class="verse2">Presuming to the honor</p> -<p class="verse0">Of loving her, the village belle;</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, his feelings he must quell,</p> -<p class="verse2">Nor force his love upon her.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">There were a dozen love-sick swains</p> -<p class="verse0">Awaiting to blow out their brains</p> -<p class="verse2">When she refused affection;</p> -<p class="verse0">Which, of course, she would to all but one,</p> -<p class="verse0">And when the others’ fates were known,</p> -<p class="verse2">They’d die of deep dejection.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She would not wed a <em>country</em> lad,</p> -<p class="verse0">Did she want a husband e’er so bad—</p> -<p class="verse2">She sighed for <em>city</em> suitors;</p> -<p class="verse0">Uriah’s hopes were sadly crushed,</p> -<p class="verse0">His tender words at once were hushed,</p> -<p class="verse2">Her wishes were his tutors.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">There’s Harry Banks just fresh from Yale,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who’s apt and easy at the tale</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -<p class="verse2">That Cupid first invented;</p> -<p class="verse0">He doesn’t blush or stammer through,</p> -<p class="verse0">As though the art were strange and new,</p> -<p class="verse2">Act awkward or demented;</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But takes the favored fair one’s hand,</p> -<p class="verse0">With melting looks and accents bland,</p> -<p class="verse2">He tells his heart’s emotion;</p> -<p class="verse0">And though he’s often tight, they say,</p> -<p class="verse0">I like his jovial, genial way,</p> -<p class="verse2">His lover-like devotion.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I really think my choice is made</p> -<p class="verse0">In favor of the college blade;</p> -<p class="verse2">And, though a reckless rover,</p> -<p class="verse0">I vow his wild and winning ways</p> -<p class="verse0">Would any maiden’s fancy daze</p> -<p class="verse2">That craved a dashing lover.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He’ll sow his “wild oats” soon, I know,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then he’s such a “nobby” beau,</p> -<p class="verse2">I feel I’m blest to get him;</p> -<p class="verse0">And Oh, the gay, bright city life,</p> -<p class="verse0">That will be mine, when I’m his wife,</p> -<p class="verse2">And the girls that will regret him.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So argued our fair village belle,</p> -<p class="verse0">And wed the dashing college swell,</p> -<p class="verse2">And left our poor Uriah,</p> -<p class="verse0">And all the other sighing swains,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose hearts had turned their youthful brains.</p> -<p class="verse2">And set their souls on fire.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But ah, alas! one little year,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has changed her happiness to care,</p> -<p class="verse2">And time too soon discloses,</p> -<p class="verse0">By sunken cheek and saddened eye,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her heavy heart and stifled sigh,</p> -<p class="verse2">Her bed is not of roses.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The dashing beau of other days,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has lost his soft persuasive ways;</p> -<p class="verse2">Her city life and lover</p> -<p class="verse0">Are but a myth to what they seemed,</p> -<p class="verse0">As she in girlish fancy dreamed,</p> -<p class="verse2">When strolling ’midst the clover.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">ST. VALENTINE DAY.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">This season of old,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’ve often been told,</p> -<p class="verse0">Was the time of all others</p> -<p class="verse2">For youth to be bold;</p> -<p class="verse0">So the brave and the fair</p> -<p class="verse0">May venture to dare,</p> -<p class="verse0">Like the birds of the air,</p> -<p class="verse2">Their feelings unfold.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">This day of the year,</p> -<p class="verse0">To the young very dear,</p> -<p class="verse0">Suggests to the heart</p> -<p class="verse2">A sweet happiness near;</p> -<p class="verse0">And a hope bright and gay,</p> -<p class="verse0">May tempt them to say,</p> -<p class="verse0">On St. Valentine’s Day,</p> -<p class="verse2">Words tender and queer.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Shy lovers, begin,</p> -<p class="verse0">Faint hearts never win,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor is it a sin</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -<p class="verse2">To love wisely and well;</p> -<p class="verse0">And the coy and the fair</p> -<p class="verse0">May be yearning to hear,</p> -<p class="verse0">At least once a year,</p> -<p class="verse2">What a lover might tell.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, gents, your attention;</p> -<p class="verse0">I beg you will mention</p> -<p class="verse0">To the fair of your choice</p> -<p class="verse2">Your honest intention;</p> -<p class="verse0">And should she reject you,</p> -<p class="verse0">Don’t let it deject you,</p> -<p class="verse0">But think it an ounce</p> -<p class="verse2">Of healthy prevention.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">They say Cupid’s arrows</p> -<p class="verse0">Pierce even the sparrows;</p> -<p class="verse0">The thought surely harrows</p> -<p class="verse2">The youth of to-day;</p> -<p class="verse0">For who with right reason,</p> -<p class="verse0">In love-making season,</p> -<p class="verse0">Would like by the birds</p> -<p class="verse2">To be “given away?”</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE RAINY DAY.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The gentle rain that softly falls,</p> -<p class="verse2">Befriending earth and ocean,</p> -<p class="verse0">Awakens many a happy thought,</p> -<p class="verse2">As well as sad emotion.</p> -<p class="verse0">It tells of changing Nature’s tears,</p> -<p class="verse2">That fall to freshen beauty;</p> -<p class="verse0">It teaches us that gloomy hours</p> -<p class="verse2">May darken pleasant duty.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Tearful times must come to all,</p> -<p class="verse2">And joy be mixed with sadness;</p> -<p class="verse0">Our years are not one summer dream,</p> -<p class="verse2">Our hearts one glow of gladness;</p> -<p class="verse0">But like the gentle rain to earth,</p> -<p class="verse2">Bereaving while it brightens,</p> -<p class="verse0">A few dark days, in every life,</p> -<p class="verse2">Each coming blessing heightens.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We greet the golden sunshine more,</p> -<p class="verse2">That follows after showers,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Just as we welcome happiness</p> -<p class="verse2">Succeeding dreary hours;</p> -<p class="verse0">Were years continued summer time,</p> -<p class="verse2">Or filled with constant glory,</p> -<p class="verse0">Were Nature always in her prime,</p> -<p class="verse2">And life one cloudless story,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d poorly prize the blessings sent—</p> -<p class="verse2">No contrast to create content.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">AUTUMN.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I love to live in autumn days,</p> -<p class="verse0">To linger in their balmy haze,</p> -<p class="verse0">To ponder in a dreamy maze,</p> -<p class="verse4">Upon their many glories.</p> -<p class="verse0">I love to watch the setting sun,</p> -<p class="verse0">To see the stars come one by one,</p> -<p class="verse0">And fade away when they are done,</p> -<p class="verse4">Telling their nightly story.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I love sweet autumn’s golden hours,</p> -<p class="verse0">Though chilling winds and fading flowers,</p> -<p class="verse0">Tell of Nature’s waning powers,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -<p class="verse4">Still I love the season;</p> -<p class="verse0">They speak of ripeness, ere decay</p> -<p class="verse0">Has swept their beauties all away;</p> -<p class="verse0">The change of leaf from green to gray</p> -<p class="verse4">Must charm the dullest reason.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The garnered grain, the golden sheaf,</p> -<p class="verse0">The varied bough, the yellow leaf,</p> -<p class="verse0">Teem with beauties, all too brief,</p> -<p class="verse4">That vanish as we view them.</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d have the autumn’s gentle sway</p> -<p class="verse0">Control the year from June to May;</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d have its glories ne’er decay,</p> -<p class="verse4">Nor winter snows to strew them.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">OCTOBER.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">This golden month, with varied leaves,</p> -<p class="verse2">So full of waning glories,</p> -<p class="verse0">Adorns the groves that it bereaves,</p> -<p class="verse2">And fills the woods with stories</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Of fleeting verdure, fading flowers—</p> -<p class="verse0">Dying Nature’s empty bowers.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">It stills the birds and chills the air,</p> -<p class="verse0">It scatters roses here and there,</p> -<p class="verse0">Making bush and branches bare</p> -<p class="verse4">Of foliage and beauty.</p> -<p class="verse0">The verdant leaves of summer lie</p> -<p class="verse0">Seared, beneath an autumn sky,</p> -<p class="verse0">Left to wither and to die,</p> -<p class="verse4">As Nature’s latest duty.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">LOVE’S LONGINGS.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I dream of thee in dewy hours,</p> -<p class="verse2">I think of thee by day,</p> -<p class="verse0">I muse upon thy winning powers,</p> -<p class="verse2">When thou art far away.</p> -<p class="verse0">I love to live in love with thee,</p> -<p class="verse2">To watch thy pensive eye,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">To linger in thy memory,</p> -<p class="verse2">To soothe thy bosom’s sigh.</p> -<p class="verse0">I fain would have thy love-lit face</p> -<p class="verse2">Forever turned on me,</p> -<p class="verse0">Oh, may we not in future trace</p> -<p class="verse2">One common destiny?</p> -<p class="verse0">And then together we could tread</p> -<p class="verse2">Life’s flowery fields as one,</p> -<p class="verse0">Dependent on each other’s love,</p> -<p class="verse2">As earth is on the sun.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Each joy in life would brighter be,</p> -<p class="verse2">If thou wert always near,</p> -<p class="verse0">And every sorrow lighter be,</p> -<p class="verse2">If thou wert there to cheer.</p> -<p class="verse0">So let me linger by thy side,</p> -<p class="verse2">In love with thee alone,</p> -<p class="verse0">Should fortune frown or ills betide,</p> -<p class="verse2">Thy presence would atone.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And blest and happy in thy smiles,</p> -<p class="verse2">Despite of cross or care,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d pray for rare longevity,</p> -<p class="verse2">Thy holy love to share.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And then when life should cease to be,</p> -<p class="verse2">And <em>earthly</em> love grow cold,</p> -<p class="verse0">My songs throughout eternity</p> -<p class="verse2">Should <em>angel</em> love unfold.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">SHE SLEEPS BENEATH THE ROSES.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We bore our Bessie’s angel form,</p> -<p class="verse2">Which now in death reposes,</p> -<p class="verse0">To the silent grave, in summer days,</p> -<p class="verse0">When earth was bathed in sunny rays,</p> -<p class="verse0">When June birds sang their summer lays,</p> -<p class="verse2">We laid her ’neath the roses.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We watched the form we loved so well,</p> -<p class="verse2">As the grave so greedy closes,</p> -<p class="verse0">We heard the sod as it sadly fell,</p> -<p class="verse0">A heartless tale it seemed to tell,</p> -<p class="verse0">Its echo like a funeral knell,</p> -<p class="verse2">Was heard among the roses.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We turned away and left her there,</p> -<p class="verse2">With flowers around, above her,</p> -<p class="verse0">We breathed the soothing summer air,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which bade us hope and hush despair,</p> -<p class="verse0">We gave our child to angel care,</p> -<p class="verse2">And trust to God to love her.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We sought our sorrow-stricken home,</p> -<p class="verse2">Which naught but grief discloses,</p> -<p class="verse0">Each echo there repeats a groan,</p> -<p class="verse0">Each merry laugh is now a moan,</p> -<p class="verse0">For angel Bessie sleeps alone,</p> -<p class="verse2">Beneath the summer roses.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">NOVEMBER.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The Autumn boughs are growing bare,</p> -<p class="verse2">The leaves are changed and falling,</p> -<p class="verse0">And dying nature everywhere</p> -<p class="verse2">Obeys grim Winter’s calling;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">The fields bereft of grass and grain,</p> -<p class="verse2">The waving woods deserted,</p> -<p class="verse0">The fountains gush, the songsters strain,</p> -<p class="verse2">To wailing winds converted.</p> -<p class="verse0">All nature frowns in drear dismay,</p> -<p class="verse0">As Autumn beauties pass away.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We see them all decay and die,</p> -<p class="verse2">Each bud and tree and flower,</p> -<p class="verse0">The trailing vines neglected lie,</p> -<p class="verse2">Around the summer bower;</p> -<p class="verse0">O’er slopes so lately pleasure’s haunts,</p> -<p class="verse2">The withered leaves are blowing,</p> -<p class="verse0">The broken branch, the barren bough</p> -<p class="verse2">The sterile grounds are strewing;</p> -<p class="verse0">Earth’s beauties vanish one by one,</p> -<p class="verse0">As nature’s yearly race is run.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">November’s winds are bleak and cold,</p> -<p class="verse2">Its skies are gray and dreary,</p> -<p class="verse0">Its landscapes no delights unfold,</p> -<p class="verse2">To rest the eye that’s weary.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">There’s naught around, beneath, above,</p> -<p class="verse2">But tells of fading glory,</p> -<p class="verse0">Each lonely lawn, and leafless grove</p> -<p class="verse2">Confirms the saddened story;</p> -<p class="verse0">Earth sobs her grief, and Boreas sighs,</p> -<p class="verse0">As changing Nature droops and dies.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">GONE BLIND.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">An early friend, of brilliant mind,</p> -<p class="verse0">In manhood’s summer stricken blind;</p> -<p class="verse0">Earth’s beauties faded day by day,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till views and visions passed away,</p> -<p class="verse0">And left a blank in the midst of bloom—</p> -<p class="verse0">A spirit crushed in a life of gloom.</p> -<p class="verse0">A heart bowed down in manly grief,</p> -<p class="verse0">No hope of light to bring relief.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">His sun is set at early noon,</p> -<p class="verse0">His rayless night ’s without a moon;</p> -<p class="verse0">His life’s bright zenith ’s clouded o’er,</p> -<p class="verse0">To him the stars will rise no more.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">No sunny scenes illume his way,</p> -<p class="verse0">The flowers bloom and then decay,</p> -<p class="verse0">The planets daily set and rise</p> -<p class="verse0">Before those yearning, sightless eyes.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">To him, all life is one long night,</p> -<p class="verse0">The season’s change brings no delight;</p> -<p class="verse0">His vacant orbs scan nothing new,</p> -<p class="verse0">But stare in vain for one dim view</p> -<p class="verse0">Of sights and scenes of other days,</p> -<p class="verse0">When life was full of sunny rays;</p> -<p class="verse0">He’d freely give all earthly gold</p> -<p class="verse0">For one glad glimpse of scenes of old.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Familiar faces, favorite friends,</p> -<p class="verse0">That by his side in love attends;</p> -<p class="verse0">What priceless gift ’twould be for him</p> -<p class="verse0">To see those forms, though faint and dim;</p> -<p class="verse0">To trace the features, watch the eye</p> -<p class="verse0">Of loved ones, flitting fondly by,</p> -<p class="verse0">And gaze upon her gentle face,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose charms e’en darkness can’t efface.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Oh, could this dreary winter dream</p> -<p class="verse0">Be gladdened by one golden gleam,</p> -<p class="verse0">One sunbeam’s blessed brightening ray</p> -<p class="verse0">Could turn this darkness into day.</p> -<p class="verse0">But this eclipse, this sunless gloom,</p> -<p class="verse0">That now makes life a living tomb,</p> -<p class="verse0">May know no dawn till earthly night</p> -<p class="verse0">Gives place to heaven’s eternal light.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">LINES WRITTEN BY THE SEASIDE.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">As I sit by the seaside,</p> -<p class="verse4">And watch the blue waves</p> -<p class="verse0">On the boundless bright bosom of ocean,</p> -<p class="verse4">The roar of the billows,</p> -<p class="verse4">The sea as it raves,</p> -<p class="verse0">Awaken ecstatic emotion.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">I long for the leisure</p> -<p class="verse4">To stay by its side,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">To linger in love by its beauties,</p> -<p class="verse4">To listen entranced,</p> -<p class="verse4">To gaze with delight,</p> -<p class="verse0">And regret that I have other duties.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">I regret that dull life,</p> -<p class="verse4">With its prosy routine,</p> -<p class="verse0">Must claim my attention to-morrow;</p> -<p class="verse4">That I must awake</p> -<p class="verse4">From my bright ocean dream,</p> -<p class="verse0">And leave the cool seaside in sorrow.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">This world of delight,</p> -<p class="verse4">This home by the sea,</p> -<p class="verse0">This hour so full of enjoyment,</p> -<p class="verse4">How I wish that the future</p> -<p class="verse4">Had nothing for me</p> -<p class="verse0">But just such happy employment.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">I’d live by the sea,</p> -<p class="verse4">All these long summer days</p> -<p class="verse0">I’d watch the bright breakers at even,</p> -<p class="verse4">I’d wander at twilight,</p> -<p class="verse4">And silently gaze</p> -<p class="verse0">On the beauties of ocean and heaven.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">Till Luna lends light</p> -<p class="verse4">To the billowy scene,</p> -<p class="verse0">That sparkles like gems in its glory;</p> -<p class="verse4">As tipping the waves</p> -<p class="verse4">With her silvery sheen.</p> -<p class="verse0">She nightly renews her bright story.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">I’d gaze at the stars</p> -<p class="verse4">In the heavens on high,</p> -<p class="verse0">And list to the music of ocean,</p> -<p class="verse4">Till the moan of the sea</p> -<p class="verse4">And the zephyr’s soft sigh</p> -<p class="verse0">Would turn my delight to devotion.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">I could muse on those orbs,</p> -<p class="verse4">Thus mirrored by waves,</p> -<p class="verse0">In revery live by the hour</p> -<p class="verse4">By the side of the sea,</p> -<p class="verse4">As it sighs or it raves,</p> -<p class="verse0">And dream of Omnipotent power.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">TWENTY SUMMERS.</a></h3> - -<p class="p1 pfs80">On our Daughter’s Birthday.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Thy first bright twenty years have past,</p> -<p class="verse0">And left an impress that will last</p> -<p class="verse2">A lifetime on thy brow;</p> -<p class="verse0">May the moulding of thy gentle face,</p> -<p class="verse0">Which all the kindly feelings grace,</p> -<p class="verse2">Be always calm as now!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">All nature’s noble gifts are thine,</p> -<p class="verse0">So carry out her sweet design</p> -<p class="verse2">In every new career;</p> -<p class="verse0">Thus radiate delight around,</p> -<p class="verse0">Make sunny happiness abound,</p> -<p class="verse2">And bless each future sphere.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Let every grace that now is thine</p> -<p class="verse0">Be ripened by the hand of time,</p> -<p class="verse2">Enriched by coming years;</p> -<p class="verse0">Ennobled and refined by art,</p> -<p class="verse0">That only culture can impart,</p> -<p class="verse2">And moral worth endears.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">No idle ease nor empty hours</p> -<p class="verse0">Should dwarf thy mind’s improving powers,</p> -<p class="verse2">But live with earnest aim;</p> -<p class="verse0">And strive each happy trait to woo,</p> -<p class="verse0">Do nobly what thou hast to do,</p> -<p class="verse2">And grace thy future name.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">CHIDING “LOVE’S CHIDINGS.”</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The cruel word in anger spoken,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has oft the loving heart near broken,</p> -<p class="verse0">And left its sting for hours behind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Upon some dear one’s troubled mind.</p> -<p class="verse0">How many a day is clouded o’er,</p> -<p class="verse0">And many a heart made sad and sore,</p> -<p class="verse0">By thoughtless words that give us pain,</p> -<p class="verse0">That ne’er can be recalled again!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Our dearest friends should surely be</p> -<p class="verse0">The ones the last our faults to see,</p> -<p class="verse0">And then, all leniency and love,</p> -<p class="verse0">Should by its blind devotion prove</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">How far above all other ties</p> -<p class="verse0">In life, our home-hearts we should prize;</p> -<p class="verse0">Our wedded love’s responsive thrill</p> -<p class="verse0">Should be the same through good and ill.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Away with love that’s only lent</p> -<p class="verse0">Till all the summer hours are spent,</p> -<p class="verse0">That fades and cools as cares increase,</p> -<p class="verse0">That comes and goes with each caprice.</p> -<p class="verse0">Ah! no, the love for which we yearn</p> -<p class="verse0">Will through all age and error burn,</p> -<p class="verse0">Will live and light our winter days,</p> -<p class="verse0">And be the same in blame and praise.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">True love is trusting, patient, pure,</p> -<p class="verse0">Is constant, kind, and will endure;</p> -<p class="verse0">It never chides, but soothes the breast</p> -<p class="verse0">That sighs for sympathy and rest.</p> -<p class="verse0">One broken chord may wreck a life,</p> -<p class="verse0">One angry word may start a strife,</p> -<p class="verse0">And chill the love that early won,</p> -<p class="verse0">That should be life’s domestic sun.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">FOUND DROWNED.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">There drifted a form on the banks of a stream,</p> -<p class="verse0">As pretty and fair as poet’s young dream;</p> -<p class="verse0">With her worn, draggled dress and her small tattered shoes,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her golden hair floating dishevelled and loose;</p> -<p class="verse0">Her pale, haggard face, so sad in repose,</p> -<p class="verse0">Told tales of a life beclouded by woes;</p> -<p class="verse0">Her small dimpled hands lay listless and cold</p> -<p class="verse0">Across her fair breast, where sorrows untold</p> -<p class="verse0">Had made her young heart in misery old.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Her poor glassy eyes, now death dimmed and blue,</p> -<p class="verse0">Looked vacantly out, as if bidding adieu</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">To a world that had shunned her, to friends that denied</p> -<p class="verse0">Love, kindness, and pity in self-righteous pride:</p> -<p class="verse0">Who can she be, this fair one unknown,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has she a history, has she a home?</p> -<p class="verse0">Was life ever bright to her, friends ever kind?</p> -<p class="verse0">Why did she seek thus oblivion to find—</p> -<p class="verse0">This blankness and Lethe for body and mind?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Did nobody love her, did nobody wait</p> -<p class="verse0">In crazy anxiety as to her fate?</p> -<p class="verse0">Had she no father, no husband, no brother,</p> -<p class="verse0">Had she no dear, tender sister or mother,</p> -<p class="verse0">To watch for her coming and wonder and wait,</p> -<p class="verse0">Impatient and anxious, because she’s so late?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And when she comes not, is there no one to miss her,</p> -<p class="verse0">No one to seek her, to love her or kiss her?</p> -<p class="verse0">Will nobody come to claim the fair clay,</p> -<p class="verse0">Will friends all forsake her in doubt and dismay?</p> -<p class="verse0">Must this disappointed, mistaken young life,</p> -<p class="verse0">Gone out in its misery, not end the strife?</p> -<p class="verse0">Will forgiveness not come, even if error were there,</p> -<p class="verse0">To the clay of this victim of hopeless despair?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Did life in its springtime to her seem so sad,</p> -<p class="verse0">That living was sorrow? Ah, mayhap she had</p> -<p class="verse0">Crushed hopes and affections too heavy to bear,</p> -<p class="verse0">So she seeks dissolution in crazy despair.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">To live would need courage, to die would end all,</p> -<p class="verse0">So she leaps in the dark, e’er her Maker doth call.</p> -<p class="verse0">“Found Drowned” is the verdict too sad to believe,</p> -<p class="verse0">No kindred to sorrow, no loved ones to grieve,</p> -<p class="verse0">Doomed to desertion, both living and dead,</p> -<p class="verse0">No mourners to follow to the place she is laid;</p> -<p class="verse0">By strangers she’s buried, unwept and unknown,</p> -<p class="verse0">Thus ends a brief life, misery marked for its own.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE DARK DAYS OF WINTER.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">As gloom gathers round, the dark days of winter,</p> -<p class="verse2">And the season of shadows, beclouds the bright skies,</p> -<p class="verse0">The heart becomes tinged with pensive emotions</p> -<p class="verse2">As Nature, in mourning, thus withers and dies.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We recall the sweet hours of retrospect pleasure,</p> -<p class="verse2">Of green haunts of happiness—lately our own—</p> -<p class="verse0">Of gay, joyous scenes, and sweet summer fancies,</p> -<p class="verse2">Engendered by beauty and brightness alone.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Adieu to the charms of summer and autumn,</p> -<p class="verse2">That each, in their turn, fill life with delight;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">We love Nature, budding or blooming or ripened,</p> -<p class="verse2">We cherish its beauties—regretting their flight.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But the dark days of winter must come to the seasons,</p> -<p class="verse2">That change, in their rounds, from the bright to the drear;</p> -<p class="verse0">And, though we deplore their cold dullness and darkness,</p> -<p class="verse2">We can’t hope for springtime all thro’ the year.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">These dull, dreary days, these clouds, gray and heavy,</p> -<p class="verse2">That hang, like a pall, over Nature’s fair face,</p> -<p class="verse0">But serve to enhance each gleam of gold sunshine,</p> -<p class="verse2">When new-waking Nature its beauties retrace.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE SONG OF THE SLUSH.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The slush, the slush, the terrible slush,</p> -<p class="verse0">That streams from each pore of the earth with a gush;</p> -<p class="verse0">Impeding the travel, making walking a woe;</p> -<p class="verse0">All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">From each roof and tree, great drippings we see,</p> -<p class="verse0">Making gutters and crossings quite up to the knee;</p> -<p class="verse0">The sidewalks so icy, the pavements a show;</p> -<p class="verse0">All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">From the time that we leave the sill of the door,</p> -<p class="verse0">“Eaves-droppings,” in torrents, all over us pour—</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Such splashing above, such slushing below;</p> -<p class="verse0">All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then we slip and we slide, as we try to proceed;</p> -<p class="verse0">Tottering and trembling, like a wind-waving reed.</p> -<p class="verse0">This icy mud-mixture makes traveling so slow;</p> -<p class="verse0">All on account of the “Beautiful Snow.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The soot and the slush, the mud and the smoke,</p> -<p class="verse0">Make that pure, pretty poem a dark, dirty joke;</p> -<p class="verse0">With a nature poetic, we certainly know</p> -<p class="verse0">No “Queen City” bard wrote “Beautiful Snow.”</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">BETRAYED.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I knew a rustic beauty once,</p> -<p class="verse2">A happy-hearted maiden,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose life seemed bright as summer days,</p> -<p class="verse0">And as she watched the autumn rays,</p> -<p class="verse0">With love of nature’s works and ways,</p> -<p class="verse2">Her heart seemed always laden.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She loved her quiet, rural home,</p> -<p class="verse2">In all its sweet sedateness,</p> -<p class="verse0">She’d stroll along with happy air,</p> -<p class="verse0">Regardless of a coming care,</p> -<p class="verse0">Supposing joy was everywhere,</p> -<p class="verse2">And dream of future greatness.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Her bright, blue eyes would seek the skies,</p> -<p class="verse2">In wondering admiration,</p> -<p class="verse0">She’d roam at will, from wood to hill,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or sit and dream by rock and rill,</p> -<p class="verse0">As if she yearned her soul to fill</p> -<p class="verse2">With love of God’s creation.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Could her young life ne’er known of strife,</p> -<p class="verse2">Nor seen but rural beauties,</p> -<p class="verse0">That happiness might still be hers,</p> -<p class="verse0">Where anguish now her bosom stirs,</p> -<p class="verse0">That always follows each that errs</p> -<p class="verse2">Against life’s hallowed duties.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">A suitor came, in city guise,</p> -<p class="verse2">A gay and dashing lover,</p> -<p class="verse0"><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'He wooes this'">He woos this</ins> simple-hearted girl,</p> -<p class="verse0">He tells her of the city’s whirl,</p> -<p class="verse0">Where fascinations all unfurl,</p> -<p class="verse2">And pleasure’s cup runs over.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She soon would scorn these rustic scenes,</p> -<p class="verse2">So tame to riper vision,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her beauty buried out of sight,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her love spent on some country wight,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her life without one gay delight,</p> -<p class="verse2">Would mark her future mission.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She loving heard his dangerous words,</p> -<p class="verse2">And, with fond trust believing,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">She listened by her favorite stream</p> -<p class="verse0">To tales of love that made life seem</p> -<p class="verse0">Enchanting as a fairy dream,</p> -<p class="verse2">Nor thought of his deceiving.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She quit her happy, rural home,</p> -<p class="verse2">To share his boasted pleasures.</p> -<p class="verse0">Alas, her love was soon despised,</p> -<p class="verse0">He left her e’er she had surmised</p> -<p class="verse0">That he, bereft of all she prized,</p> -<p class="verse2">Was least among her treasures.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Crushed beneath that heavy blow,</p> -<p class="verse2">She sank in deep dejection;</p> -<p class="verse0">Her happiness is changed to tears,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her purity to guilty fears,</p> -<p class="verse0">Estranged each friendly face appears,</p> -<p class="verse2">And dead each fond affection.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">His broken vows near drove her mad,</p> -<p class="verse2">His treacherous desertion</p> -<p class="verse0">Made desperate every hope she had,</p> -<p class="verse0">To her the rest of life was sad,</p> -<p class="verse0">Not even innocence to glad</p> -<p class="verse2">Or shield her from aspersion.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She, broken-hearted, crush’d and wrong’d,</p> -<p class="verse2">Who erred through blind devotion,</p> -<p class="verse0">Could ne’er regain her home and friends,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor could a lifetime make amends,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor dull the pang her bosom rends;</p> -<p class="verse2">She’d die and end emotion.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She seeks the brook that once she loved,</p> -<p class="verse2">By stealth in twilight hour,</p> -<p class="verse0">And, musing on that peaceful scene,</p> -<p class="verse0">She sadly thought “what might have been,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Had traitors love, <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'with gilded mein'">with gilded mien</ins>,</p> -<p class="verse2">Not charmed with subtle power.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then came the flood of bitter tears,</p> -<p class="verse2">Heart-chiding and misgiving,</p> -<p class="verse0">When stilling all her future fears,</p> -<p class="verse0">As she a fancied footstep hears,</p> -<p class="verse0">She takes a leap and disappears,</p> -<p class="verse2">And ends the pain of living.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Despairing death her early doom,</p> -<p class="verse2">Young, wretched, and mistaken,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Her innocence and beauty gone,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her life cut off in early morn,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her broken heart in anguish torn,</p> -<p class="verse2">Deserted and forsaken.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And where is he whose treach’rous wiles</p> -<p class="verse2">Have driven her to madness?</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose hollow heart and sinful soul</p> -<p class="verse0">Betrayed, while under love’s control,</p> -<p class="verse0">The trusting heart we here enroll</p> -<p class="verse2">Upon life’s book of sadness?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Her icy form drifts down the stream,</p> -<p class="verse2">While he pursues his pleasures;</p> -<p class="verse0">The world looks on his murd’rous deeds</p> -<p class="verse0">With leniency, and scarcely heeds</p> -<p class="verse0">The ruin wrought, or wrong that pleads</p> -<p class="verse2">For justice in God’s measures.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">SUMMER SIGHINGS.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We want to go to “Iceland,”</p> -<p class="verse2">Or to the “polar seas;”</p> -<p class="verse0">We want to hug an “iceberg,”</p> -<p class="verse2">Or raise a “family breeze;”</p> -<p class="verse0">We want to see a white frost</p> -<p class="verse2">All o’er our grassy earth;</p> -<p class="verse0">We want to have a snow storm</p> -<p class="verse2">Give winter early birth;</p> -<p class="verse0">A “cold” would be a godsend,</p> -<p class="verse2">Indeed, we’d like a “chill;”</p> -<p class="verse0">A “coolness” with our dearest friend</p> -<p class="verse2">Would help to “fill the bill.”</p> -<p class="verse0">A “cool reception” we’d enjoy,</p> -<p class="verse2">Also, a “freezing” bow,</p> -<p class="verse0">And “frosted feet” we’d think a treat</p> -<p class="verse2">If we could have them now.</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d like our home an “ice house,”</p> -<p class="verse2">Our bed a bank of snow,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d have “refrigerator” cars</p> -<p class="verse2">To take us to and fro;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">We’d love to live in Lapland,</p> -<p class="verse2">For reasons of our own,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or spend our summer holidays</p> -<p class="verse2">Within the “frigid zone.”</p> -<p class="verse0">Why they call this world a “cold world”</p> -<p class="verse2">We surely cannot tell,</p> -<p class="verse0">We think this summer proves it</p> -<p class="verse2">Almost as hot as “Hades.”</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">OUR BABY.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Our precious babe, our household pet,</p> -<p class="verse2">“The well spring of our pleasure,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Each hour welcomes some new art</p> -<p class="verse2">Endearing this our treasure;</p> -<p class="verse0">Its many little winning ways,</p> -<p class="verse0">Its cunning tricks and baby plays</p> -<p class="verse2">Bewitches beyond measure.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We watch it bud from day to day,</p> -<p class="verse2">Developing new beauties;</p> -<p class="verse0">A wonder in precociousness,</p> -<p class="verse2">Performing baby duties;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">It laughs, and coos, and “patty cakes,”</p> -<p class="verse2">And plays with rings and rattles,</p> -<p class="verse0">And reaches out its dimpled hands.</p> -<p class="verse2">For all the goods and chattels</p> -<p class="verse0">That tend to brighten babyhood.</p> -<p class="verse2">And for them begs and battles;</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then laughs and leaps in gay delight;</p> -<p class="verse2">And kicks and crows its pleasure,</p> -<p class="verse0">Rejuvenates our quiet home</p> -<p class="verse2">And fills our hours of leisure,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till “tired nature” claims the sway</p> -<p class="verse0">And gives the household holiday.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">CREMATION.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Cremation seems to some to be</p> -<p class="verse0">A matter of economy;</p> -<p class="verse0">To save a heavy funeral fee,</p> -<p class="verse2">Thus cheat the undertaker.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">It has always been our great desire</p> -<p class="verse0">To wholly shun <em>post mortem</em> fire;</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d hate to roast a son or sire,</p> -<p class="verse2">Or be a body baker.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">How those that like this novel plan</p> -<p class="verse0">To inflamate the corpse of man,</p> -<p class="verse0">May use the funeral frying pan,</p> -<p class="verse2">And gather up the ashes.</p> -<p class="verse0">But we truly trust that our friends,</p> -<p class="verse0">When our demise their bosom rends,</p> -<p class="verse0">Will in their sorrow make amends,</p> -<p class="verse2">Omitting cinder hashes.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">No matter if the freight is low,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or if we were a deadhead through,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who’d want to be a broil or stew—</p> -<p class="verse2">Thus to the turkey leveled?</p> -<p class="verse0">Oh, no! we hope that our fate</p> -<p class="verse0">Will be postponed till it’s so late</p> -<p class="verse0">The fashion will be out of date,</p> -<p class="verse2">And then we can’t be <em>deviled</em>.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="p1 pfs80">RESPONSE, BY CINDER-ELLA.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Not for you cremating pyre,</p> -<p class="verse0">Because “it’s been your great desire</p> -<p class="verse0">To wholly shun <em>post mortem</em> fire,”</p> -<p class="verse2">And thus to save your “bakin’.”</p> -<p class="verse0">Because you have this hope behind you,</p> -<p class="verse0">Don’t think your master will not find you,</p> -<p class="verse0">Tho’ deep in earth they have consigned you,</p> -<p class="verse2">Beneath a lying stone.</p> -<p class="verse0">When earthly things do fade from view,</p> -<p class="verse0">And all the chances you’ve run through,</p> -<p class="verse0">Then will the devil have his due,</p> -<p class="verse2">And he will claim his own.</p> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="p1 pfs80">ANSWER BY MRS. TAYLOR.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">There is, we find, a class of folks</p> -<p class="verse0">Opposed to our cremation jokes:</p> -<p class="verse0">’Twere vain for us to try to coax</p> -<p class="verse2">Them out of cinder-ation;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">For furnace heat they sigh at heart,</p> -<p class="verse0">They’d ape the goose or gander part,</p> -<p class="verse0">Or baked like pudding, pie, or tart,</p> -<p class="verse2">Be <em>dessert</em> of creation.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">To such we would sincerely say,</p> -<p class="verse0">Their fiery instincts should obey,</p> -<p class="verse0">We would not have our wishes weigh</p> -<p class="verse2">Against incendiaries;</p> -<p class="verse0">But let them burn or bake by rule,</p> -<p class="verse0">As suits the taste of sage or fool,</p> -<p class="verse0">Our greatest aim is to keep cool,</p> -<p class="verse2">Nor cross the Stygian ferries.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Cremators seem to pine for fire,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor would we quench their warm desire,</p> -<p class="verse0">Though our hope is something higher,</p> -<p class="verse2">We here would mildly mention:</p> -<p class="verse0">If they their loved ones would ignite,</p> -<p class="verse0">And think a burning bier is right,</p> -<p class="verse0">Why let them take a fiery flight</p> -<p class="verse2">“Where they pave with good intention.”</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">ALONE.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Hers is a rayless night;</p> -<p class="verse0">No star or gleam of light</p> -<p class="verse0">Beams o’er the widow’s blight,</p> -<p class="verse2">As she sits alone.</p> -<p class="verse0">Oh! could her tears that flow,</p> -<p class="verse0">Wash out her woman’s woe,</p> -<p class="verse0">Brown every sorrow’s throe</p> -<p class="verse2">And misery’s moan.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She has a sunless sky,</p> -<p class="verse0">Sadly to sit and sigh,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her hope is but to die</p> -<p class="verse2">And end the pain;</p> -<p class="verse0">She thinks of other days</p> -<p class="verse0">When life had sunny rays,</p> -<p class="verse0">Such thoughts as nearly craze</p> -<p class="verse2">Her busy brain.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Crushed hopes crowding come,</p> -<p class="verse0">Dead joys, in a darkened home,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Lost love so lately known,</p> -<p class="verse2">Make life so drear;</p> -<p class="verse0">What is there left her now?</p> -<p class="verse0">What peace has earth to show?</p> -<p class="verse0">What bliss can life bestow</p> -<p class="verse2">That once was dear?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">She sits in twilight dim,</p> -<p class="verse0">Vainly awaiting him,</p> -<p class="verse0">Watching the shadows grim</p> -<p class="verse2">Go faintly past;</p> -<p class="verse0">Till night, lone and still,</p> -<p class="verse0">Veils earth, dark and chill,</p> -<p class="verse0">How kind could sorrow kill</p> -<p class="verse2">By one cold blast.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But there she sits alone,</p> -<p class="verse0">Lists for that tender tone,</p> -<p class="verse0">Lately it was her own,</p> -<p class="verse2">Fondly to hear;</p> -<p class="verse0">How all is still and cold,</p> -<p class="verse0">No ray can hope unfold,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her young heart has grown old</p> -<p class="verse2">In one short year.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Life’s early winter ’s come,</p> -<p class="verse0">Clouded her happy home,</p> -<p class="verse0">Made grief and woe her own,</p> -<p class="verse2">Heartsore and sad;</p> -<p class="verse0">Who could existence crave?</p> -<p class="verse0">Her love is in the grave;</p> -<p class="verse0">Would she die and save</p> -<p class="verse2">Her going mad!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Heart bowed in deep despair,</p> -<p class="verse0">Oh, God! hear thou her prayer;</p> -<p class="verse0">Let time her loss repair,</p> -<p class="verse2">And spring once more</p> -<p class="verse0">Smile o’er her clouded years;</p> -<p class="verse0">Give her the hope that cheers,</p> -<p class="verse0">Wipe out her widow’s tears</p> -<p class="verse2">And peace restore.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The first on the list is President Boyce,</p> -<p class="verse0">“The head of the heap,” and the Lyceum’s choice,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose seeming set habits in bachelor ways</p> -<p class="verse0">Is all that robs him of womanly praise.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The next that comes under my critical pen,</p> -<p class="verse0">At the president’s table sits fair Mrs. Glenn,</p> -<p class="verse0">A lady so rich in pleasing pen powers</p> -<p class="verse0">That we oftentimes wish her minutes were hours.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And then Mr. Cole, so sober and sage,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose late recitations have been quite the rage;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">He, too, ’s in the market—I beg you won’t tell,</p> -<p class="verse0">For the girls will pursue him and find it a “sell.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now dear Mrs. Goodrich, our matron of mind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who can be both Biddy and Lady combined;</p> -<p class="verse0">With much versatility, logic and fun,</p> -<p class="verse0">We welcome her always as “A Number one.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In <em>strides</em> Mr. Hollister, tall and profound,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who refuses to see when a laugh may be found;</p> -<p class="verse0">Who relishes Bennett’s rejecting Miss May,</p> -<p class="verse0">As though the stale tidings were fresh of to-day.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then chimes the “sweet singer,” Miss Huston—Ah, me!</p> -<p class="verse0">What would the Lyceum do without thee?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">With her silverest tones and dreamiest look,</p> -<p class="verse0">To recite the sad “Bells” and sing the sweet “Brook.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In <em>trips</em> Enoch Taylor with humor and fun,</p> -<p class="verse0">As “Dundreary,” or “Paddy,” or “George Washington;”</p> -<p class="verse0">He has a strong weakness for “Widow Bedotte,”</p> -<p class="verse0">Indeed, for all widows a weakness he’s got.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">See the bright star, May Donally, rise,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose musical voice and luminous eyes</p> -<p class="verse0">Make her so brilliant in reading and song,</p> -<p class="verse0">We wish we could teach her refusing was wrong.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Boyd, the “tall barrister,” drawls out his say</p> -<p class="verse0">In his sensible, lazy, lack-a-daisical way;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">He declaims or debates, according to choice;</p> -<p class="verse0">He’s a bachelor, having no partner but Boyce.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then Mrs. Thorne, whose husband is Joe,</p> -<p class="verse0">Smilingly reads, in tones soft and low,</p> -<p class="verse0">Good articles, essays, poems or prose—</p> -<p class="verse0">She’s happy at any you choose to propose.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now comes Col. Finch, so jolly and jocose,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who lately, I think, got slightly morose</p> -<p class="verse0">Because “Brother Watkins” fell flat on our ears,</p> -<p class="verse0">And failed to bring any spectators to tears.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Mr. Babbitt’s a name suggestive of soap,</p> -<p class="verse0">Clean records and linen, and giving a scope</p> -<p class="verse0">For a lawyer of merit, who’s modest and shy,</p> -<p class="verse0">To make him a mixture to “concentrate lye.”</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then Mrs. Jones and Coffin come in,</p> -<p class="verse0">Gentle, sweet readers as ever have been;</p> -<p class="verse0">Selected to serve in meter or prose,</p> -<p class="verse0">They recite “ready made” or sweetly compose.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Mr. Baker, who next breaks out in debate,</p> -<p class="verse0">Is a favorite here, and I think I may state</p> -<p class="verse0">Our friends will find it instructive delight</p> -<p class="verse0">Attending his lecture here, next Friday night.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Welcome Miss Fish and Miss Boyd, in their turn,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who know so much now they have little to learn;</p> -<p class="verse0">They give us at times an essay or two,</p> -<p class="verse0">Well written and read, and then they are through.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'pretty dame Stone’s is'">pretty dame Stone is</ins> a <em>hard</em> name to puff,</p> -<p class="verse0">And to stick to the truth would be very rough;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">For the gents, as she reads, the author defies,</p> -<p class="verse0">And lose their ideas in the light of her eyes.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Col. Taylor, the “chronic debater,” appears,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who argues regardless of scruples or fear;</p> -<p class="verse0">Our “smiling attorney” don’t fret about sin,</p> -<p class="verse0">But espouses the cause that’s surest to win.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The sensible, cynical Simpson Glenn,</p> -<p class="verse0">Scares us and scathes us with critical pen;</p> -<p class="verse0">He’s not over pious, I’ve heard people say,</p> -<p class="verse0">But would be a Christian, were the Tempter away.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">McLaughlin, why will you persistently part</p> -<p class="verse0">Your hair in the middle, thus touching the heart</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Of the girls of our church? I think it is wrong;</p> -<p class="verse0">For forgiveness you’ll have to sing us a song.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now sweet Mrs. Worth, our directress and guide,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her name and her nature so closely allied;</p> -<p class="verse0">Her gay, happy face and her laughing, bright eyes,</p> -<p class="verse0">Are a light in the Lyceum the male members prize.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Mr. Goodrich writes quaintly, a style of his own,</p> -<p class="verse0">But favors us seldom, if we let him alone;</p> -<p class="verse0">His smiling refusals don’t quite fill the bill,</p> -<p class="verse0">Though he fancies the sugar will cover the pill.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">See, brilliant and bright as an evening star,</p> -<p class="verse0">Our “brunette contralto,” Lucebia LeBarr;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">With Miss Mary Taylor, whose talent is fine,</p> -<p class="verse0">Executes harmonies almost divine.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In <em>stalks</em> Frederick Peer, the “tragedian knight,”</p> -<p class="verse0">So happy in “Hamlet,” so good to recite</p> -<p class="verse0">The “Wreck” or the “Richards” either one, two or three—</p> -<p class="verse0">A Booth in the future I think I foresee.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now gentle Miss Conkling, of rustic renown,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has kindly consented to honor the town</p> -<p class="verse0">And favor our meetings, in spite of the trains,</p> -<p class="verse0">And cheer us and charm us with musical strains.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The next new delight we wish to impart</p> -<p class="verse0">Will be in the person of Johnny B. Hart;</p> -<p class="verse0">So modest in manner, so earnest in mind,</p> -<p class="verse0">Has piety, talent, good nature combined.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">By the way, he will lecture on the 10th of this May</p> -<p class="verse0">Concerning Victoria’s blest reign of to-day;</p> -<p class="verse0">With so fine a speaker and pleasant a theme,</p> -<p class="verse0">The church will be filled with “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la crème de la crème</i>.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In <em>pops</em> pungent Pape, with his poem from Poe,</p> -<p class="verse0">Distorted, dissected till you hardly would know</p> -<p class="verse0">How it could of all grace be so thoroughly shaven,</p> -<p class="verse0">Could the poet arise I know he’d be “Raven.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Last though not <em>least</em>, is Mrs. E. Taylor,</p> -<p class="verse0">Of fair ones of forty, I think I’ve seen <em>frailer</em>!</p> -<p class="verse0">But she’s blest with <em>one</em> beauty, she never gets blue—</p> -<p class="verse0">Not even in bidding the Lyceum adieu.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">NIGHT’S PHASES.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In sable mantle wrapt at rest,</p> -<p class="verse2">Behold the glorious, gorgeous night,</p> -<p class="verse0">Its firmament in splendor dressed</p> -<p class="verse2">Its canopy the starry height,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose sparks illume and light the land,</p> -<p class="verse0">And make e’en darkness bright and grand.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then comes the moon with silver glow,</p> -<p class="verse2">Whose mellow rays both charm and cheer,</p> -<p class="verse0">Benignly blessing all below,</p> -<p class="verse2">Before whose brightness disappear</p> -<p class="verse0">Clouds and shadows, mists and shades,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till silver sheen all earth pervades.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And then the mild, soft summer night,</p> -<p class="verse2">With genial zephyrs, gentle dews,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose balmy breath wafts rich delight</p> -<p class="verse2">O’er summer slopes where nightly strews</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">The ripened roses’ perfumed leaves,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor <em>robs</em> the flower that it bereaves.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then comes the frosty winter night,</p> -<p class="verse2">With crystal boughs and icy brooks,</p> -<p class="verse0">With snow-capped hills, afar and white,</p> -<p class="verse2">A-lending light to earth’s dark nooks,</p> -<p class="verse0">Diffusing rays and borrowed gleams</p> -<p class="verse0">O’er darkened woods and shaded streams.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And then behold the dreary night,</p> -<p class="verse2">Without the spell of moon or stars,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose somber silence seems to blight</p> -<p class="verse2">Earth’s finest phase, and chills and mars</p> -<p class="verse0">The lonesome landscape, crowds the mind</p> -<p class="verse0">With weird, wild fancies undefined;</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And gives each form a phantom shape,</p> -<p class="verse2">Creating visions gaunt and grim,</p> -<p class="verse0">And, as a pall that mourners drape,</p> -<p class="verse2">The clouds surround the shadows dim,</p> -<p class="verse0">Filling the heart with nameless fears,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till night’s dull darkness disappears.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE FOUNDLING.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">As I sat by my window one cool autumn eve,</p> -<p class="verse2">And watched the dim shades on the opposite lawn,</p> -<p class="verse0">From my silent surroundings sweet fancies I weave,</p> -<p class="verse2">Unmindful of time and the approach of the dawn.</p> -<p class="verse0">There I sat in the quiet and beauty of night,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till the sentinel stars grew dim with the light.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">When recalled to myself from the silence around,</p> -<p class="verse2">While Nature was sleeping in peaceful repose,</p> -<p class="verse0">By the meager approach of a weak, wailing sound,</p> -<p class="verse2">Which on the night air at intervals rose,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Growing faint and fainter as the evening chill</p> -<p class="verse0">Crept over the landscape so somber and still.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Whence comes that faint cry so plaintive and thrilling,</p> -<p class="verse2">That dies on the air at each waft of the breeze?</p> -<p class="verse0">Why creeps o’er my heart this sensation so chilling,</p> -<p class="verse2">As I listen enchained ’mid the rustle of trees?</p> -<p class="verse0">At length all is quiet but the night-watch’s tread,</p> -<p class="verse0">So I hasten beside him, and tell him my dread.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Together we seek in the dimness of dawn,</p> -<p class="verse2">’Mid grass and dead leaves becovered with dew,</p> -<p class="verse0">To unravel the mystery heard on the lawn;</p> -<p class="verse2">And the darkness dispelling, we find it too true,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">That a babe, sweet and chubby, but a week or two old,</p> -<p class="verse0">Is lying neglected alone in the cold.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In a coarse blanket-shawl, soiled, ragged, and old,</p> -<p class="verse2">Lay the poor little sleeper, the picture of grief,</p> -<p class="verse0">Aweary with weeping and hunger and cold,</p> -<p class="verse2">Kind nature had brought it this happy relief,</p> -<p class="verse0">Its downy cheeks wet with the cold evening dew,</p> -<p class="verse0">Its chubby fists doubled and dimpled and blue.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">A moment we gazed on its rude little bed,</p> -<p class="verse2">And wondered what misery it must atone,</p> -<p class="verse0">Why it was left there—what mystery led</p> -<p class="verse2">To expose it to perish, forsaken, alone,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Was it treachery, wickedness, want, or woe,</p> -<p class="verse0">That tempted the mother to abandon it so?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I lifted the babe from the damp, chilly ground,</p> -<p class="verse2">Which awakened the sleeper from its sobbing repose,</p> -<p class="verse0">And casting a startled and wild look around,</p> -<p class="verse2">It nestled again in an infantile doze,</p> -<p class="verse0">While I carried it home to fire and food,</p> -<p class="verse0">Dressed it more cleanly, less common and rude.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">A sweet little girl, fat, rosy, and fair,</p> -<p class="verse2">By Nature’s endowments all any could crave,</p> -<p class="verse0">With gentle blue eyes and light downy hair</p> -<p class="verse2">(On a snowy broad brow), inclining to wave;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">In form sweetly perfect, in face near divine;</p> -<p class="verse0">For such do our wealthy ones daily repine.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">This poor little waif, unwelcomed has come,</p> -<p class="verse2">Been rescued by chance from hunger and cold,</p> -<p class="verse0">How early life’s trials for it have begun,</p> -<p class="verse2">How many new fears may its future unfold!</p> -<p class="verse0">Left helpless and homeless to strangers alone,</p> -<p class="verse0">With not even a name to claim as its own.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now the watchman returns for his foundling care.</p> -<p class="verse2">I resign it reluctantly into his arms,</p> -<p class="verse0">The babe is adrift again—O whither and where?</p> -<p class="verse2">Will it find security from life’s alarms?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">It may never know father nor mother nor home,</p> -<p class="verse0">Kind heaven protect it from evils to come.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE NEW YEAR.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The year is an infant, new-born and pure-hearted,</p> -<p class="verse2">No blur on its beauty, no tear on its cheek;</p> -<p class="verse0">How long will it last, when the calendar ’s started,</p> -<p class="verse2">In innocent purity? How soon will it reek</p> -<p class="verse0">With sorrow and sinfulness, woe and unkindness,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till the whole year is blotted with error and blindness?</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Each happy new year brings good resolutions,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -<p class="verse2">Which wane and wear out ere the change of the moon;</p> -<p class="verse0">We picture new plans at each revolution,</p> -<p class="verse2">Which we find, when to late, have failed us too soon,</p> -<p class="verse0">And our visions of happiness, pleasure, and cheerfulness</p> -<p class="verse0">Are changed, ere the end, to sorrow and tearfulness.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Oh, would that this year, unlike all preceding,</p> -<p class="verse2">Could show a clean record of well-kept resolves—</p> -<p class="verse0">Good plans well perfected, fair promises heeding—</p> -<p class="verse2">Instead of a picture that daily dissolves;</p> -<p class="verse0">Then, indeed, would our future be free from all care,</p> -<p class="verse0">Were our pledges and vows kept all through the year.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">SPRING SPECIALTIES.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Spring smacks of lamb and peas and eggs,</p> -<p class="verse2">Of rural trips and pleasure,</p> -<p class="verse0">New jaunty hats, and pants with legs</p> -<p class="verse2">A yard around would measure;</p> -<p class="verse0">Of light cloth suits for gents to wear,</p> -<p class="verse2">And kilted skirts for ladies,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who sally out to get the air</p> -<p class="verse2">When the house is hot as Hades;</p> -<p class="verse0">It tells of times when overcoats</p> -<p class="verse2">Are being pawned for summer,</p> -<p class="verse0">When furs are in the camphor chest,</p> -<p class="verse2">And each officious drummer</p> -<p class="verse0">Commences sale of china glue</p> -<p class="verse2">And extra patent polish,</p> -<p class="verse0">When heads of houses gladly would</p> -<p class="verse2">Each canvasser demolish;</p> -<p class="verse0">When brush and broom, and soap and sand</p> -<p class="verse2">Are order of the season;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">When cleaning paint and scrubbing floors</p> -<p class="verse2">Would rob you of your reason;</p> -<p class="verse0">When home looks damp, and smells of suds,</p> -<p class="verse2">And dust and dirt are plenty;</p> -<p class="verse0">There’s not a happy husband then—</p> -<p class="verse2">I’m sure not one in twenty—</p> -<p class="verse0">And the only hope they have to cheer,</p> -<p class="verse0">The season comes but once a year.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">MUSIC.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Music, blest of all the arts,</p> -<p class="verse2">We prize thy melting measures,</p> -<p class="verse0">What other power so imparts</p> -<p class="verse0">The magic to awaken hearts?</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d have a line of crowned Mozarts</p> -<p class="verse2">To tune our lives to pleasures.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Music soothes the infant’s sighs,</p> -<p class="verse2">And lulls its baby slumbers;</p> -<p class="verse0">Its charms cement domestic ties,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Each home its mellow measures prize;</p> -<p class="verse0">It kindred hearts will harmonize</p> -<p class="verse2">And chain by tuneful numbers.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Music cheers the bridal hours,</p> -<p class="verse2">Each happiness it heightens;</p> -<p class="verse0">It stirs, it animates, empowers</p> -<p class="verse0">The love and hope that may be ours,</p> -<p class="verse0">And ripens buds of bliss to flowers,</p> -<p class="verse2">And every blessing brightens.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Music stirs the warrior’s fire,</p> -<p class="verse2">And goads him on to glory;</p> -<p class="verse0">It kindles every brave desire</p> -<p class="verse0">That love of country can inspire,</p> -<p class="verse0">And makes the hero’s heart beat higher</p> -<p class="verse2">To ’dorn a patriot story.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The church’s choicest gift and best;</p> -<p class="verse2">Its harmony and gladness,</p> -<p class="verse0">Music’s strains, religion’s zest,</p> -<p class="verse0">The Christian’s cheering balm and rest,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">When hope seems dark, and heart depressed</p> -<p class="verse2">It charms away the sadness.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Last, music of the funeral train,</p> -<p class="verse2">So slowly, sweetly sighing;</p> -<p class="verse0">It softens weeping mourners’ pain;</p> -<p class="verse0">It tells of rapture we’ll regain</p> -<p class="verse0">When heavenly transports we attain,</p> -<p class="verse2">And soothes the dread of dying.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE FAIR APE OF PHILA.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">We have just read the news,</p> -<p class="verse4">Which gave us the blues,</p> -<p class="verse0">That a monkey was born in that city;</p> -<p class="verse4">An honor so rare</p> -<p class="verse4">We wanted to share,</p> -<p class="verse0">So jealousy seasoned our pity.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">To have the fair ape</p> -<p class="verse4">Show its infantile shape</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">First out in that public garden,</p> -<p class="verse4">So far away from</p> -<p class="verse4">Her country and kind,</p> -<p class="verse4">Aloof from her comrades</p> -<p class="verse4">She never may find,</p> -<p class="verse4">Nor the trees of the tropics,</p> -<p class="verse4">For which she has pined,</p> -<p class="verse0">Her case is truly a hard one.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">This young kangaroo</p> -<p class="verse4">Born out at the Zoo,</p> -<p class="verse0">Made a ripple in public feeling,</p> -<p class="verse4">Which gushes and glows,</p> -<p class="verse4">And clamors and crows,</p> -<p class="verse4">Unjointing at once,</p> -<p class="verse4">Each Darwinian nose,</p> -<p class="verse0">All love from <em>foreign</em> apes stealing.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">A Quakeress monkey</p> -<p class="verse4">Is a curious thing,</p> -<p class="verse0">A grave and gay combination;</p> -<p class="verse4">Its infantile antics</p> -<p class="verse4">’Twill have to bring</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -<p class="verse4">Into <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'sober sedatenees'">sober sedateness</ins>;</p> -<p class="verse4">And, poor little thing,</p> -<p class="verse4">Away all its native</p> -<p class="verse4">Amusements must fling</p> -<p class="verse0">To claim its Quaker relation.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">We can’t help thinking</p> -<p class="verse4">’Twould have been for the best,</p> -<p class="verse4">Could this fair young ape</p> -<p class="verse4">Been born out West,</p> -<p class="verse4">Though the Darwin theory goes to prove</p> -<p class="verse0">Its <em>right</em> to the city of “<em>Brotherly Love</em>.”</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">DECORATION ODE.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Bring fragrant flowers, rich and rare,</p> -<p class="verse0">Let wreathes and roses scent the air.</p> -<p class="verse0">Go strew them freely o’er the graves</p> -<p class="verse0">Of buried heroes, sainted braves.</p> -<p class="verse0">The noisy din of war is o’er,</p> -<p class="verse0">The battle drum shall wake no more.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Now quietly their bosoms rest,</p> -<p class="verse0">Those silent hearts by valor blest.</p> -<p class="verse0">On sacred soil their ashes lie,</p> -<p class="verse0">Blest beneath a summer sky;</p> -<p class="verse0">Their deeds of glory, brave and bold,</p> -<p class="verse0">Their valiant will, their dying told,</p> -<p class="verse0">Their honest hearts were in the strife,</p> -<p class="verse0">For liberty they gave their life.</p> -<p class="verse0">May every patriot in our land</p> -<p class="verse0">Beside those sainted heroes stand,</p> -<p class="verse0">And fill their names with warrior praise,</p> -<p class="verse0">And deck their graves with lasting bays.</p> -<p class="verse0">May woman’s gentle, soothing voice</p> -<p class="verse0">Now sing sweet anthems and rejoice,</p> -<p class="verse0">That, as she wreathes the flowers o’er</p> -<p class="verse0">The mounds of loved ones, now no more,</p> -<p class="verse0">Their names and deeds will ever bloom,</p> -<p class="verse0">While flowers fade upon their tomb.</p> -<p class="verse0">They’ve fought their earthly battles well,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d crown them all with immortelle.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE HONEYMOON.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">With “loves” and “doves”</p> -<p class="verse4">And white kid gloves</p> -<p class="verse0">The “honeymoon” will wane away;</p> -<p class="verse4">Each turn ’s a kiss,</p> -<p class="verse4">This new-born bliss</p> -<p class="verse0">Will last for thirty days, they say.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">With gifts and glances</p> -<p class="verse4">And wedding dances,</p> -<p class="verse0">The time speeds onward far too fast;</p> -<p class="verse4">Such blushing, sighing,</p> -<p class="verse4">There’s no denying</p> -<p class="verse0">This novel love ’s too sweet to last.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">They love and languish</p> -<p class="verse4">In blissful anguish,</p> -<p class="verse0">Till all around swims with delight;</p> -<p class="verse4">Their vows and pledges</p> -<p class="verse4">Set your teeth on edges,</p> -<p class="verse0">And they “bill and coo” till it dims your sight.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">They seem so spooney</p> -<p class="verse4">They’re almost luny,</p> -<p class="verse0">This pair so lately joined in one.</p> -<p class="verse4">They loll and linger,</p> -<p class="verse4">Toy with hand and finger,</p> -<p class="verse0">And think life’s pleasures just begun.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse4">Mistaken mortals!</p> -<p class="verse4">Life’s opening portals</p> -<p class="verse0">Admit a glare too bright too last;</p> -<p class="verse4">And “loves young dream,”</p> -<p class="verse4">Which now may seem</p> -<p class="verse0">Elysian joy, will soon be past.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE MODEL MAN.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">I have an ambition to try to portray</p> -<p class="verse2">In rhythm a masculine model;</p> -<p class="verse0">So seldom such rarities brighten my way</p> -<p class="verse0">To the fields of wild fancy I’m driven to stray,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And to paint my ideal in a rhyming array</p> -<p class="verse2">Will force me the muses to coddle.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Well, this model of mine is married, of course,</p> -<p class="verse2">For how could a bachelor be one?</p> -<p class="verse0">So I gauge him by marital morals and force;</p> -<p class="verse0">As a husband, he merits a crown for a cross,</p> -<p class="verse0">For he acts as a beau instead of a boss—</p> -<p class="verse2">I’d go to the moon to see one.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He seldom or never goes out after night,</p> -<p class="verse2">As other men do, less devoted.</p> -<p class="verse0">To lodges and clubs, and to see every sight,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whether it be wrong or whether it be right;</p> -<p class="verse0">He never comes home either cranky or tight—</p> -<p class="verse2">A fact which should be duly noted.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He never comes in from the office and cowls</p> -<p class="verse2">If dinner is late or not ready,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor frowns nor feazes, nor fusses nor howls,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor goes round the house and grumbles and growls,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor blesses the knife as he cuts up the fowls,</p> -<p class="verse2">But always seems happy and steady.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He’s a model, indeed—content on a crust.</p> -<p class="verse2">No sighing for honor or riches;</p> -<p class="verse0">He’s as blind as a bat to cob-webs and dust;</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor any domestic derangement or rust</p> -<p class="verse0">Would he notice for worlds, for fear of a muss—</p> -<p class="verse2">His thoughtfulness truly bewitches.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">A buttonless shirt, or a hole in his hose,</p> -<p class="verse2">He views with happy contentment.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Nor savagely scowls if his best Sunday clothes</p> -<p class="verse0">Get mussed in the closet; nor blusters nor blows,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor curses the rocker for stumping his toes;</p> -<p class="verse2">My model is free from resentment.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He never keeps letters for days in his hat</p> -<p class="verse2">That I give him to mail in the morning,</p> -<p class="verse0">But mails them at once, so punctual and pat.</p> -<p class="verse0">Whether it’s from duty or fear of a spat,</p> -<p class="verse0">I’m prepared not to say; I only know that</p> -<p class="verse2">He mails them without further warning.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He never complains of long dry goods bills,</p> -<p class="verse2">Nor squirms when the shoe bill ’s presented;</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor scolds nor scowls when the milliner fills</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">A long sheet of foolscap with bonnets and frills,</p> -<p class="verse0">But pays like a <em>man</em>, if it breaks him or kills,</p> -<p class="verse2">With an air that’s resigned and contented.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">And then too, he’s ever so ready to go,</p> -<p class="verse2">At the sound of the slightest suggestion,</p> -<p class="verse0">To the opera, theater, lecture, or show;</p> -<p class="verse0">Consenting at once, he never says no,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor looks bored and cross if it’s stupid or slow,</p> -<p class="verse2">But retains the same happy expression.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">He does not complain, in our travels, of trunks,</p> -<p class="verse2">Or baskets, or bundles, or boxes,</p> -<p class="verse0">But smilingly looks at the over-stored bunks</p> -<p class="verse0">In happy complacence—never worries or spunks;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">This model of mine ’s no cross, surly lunks,</p> -<p class="verse2">But a martyr quite equal to Fox’s.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">My ideal man don’t growl for a week,</p> -<p class="verse2">Should I get a few duds for my travels,</p> -<p class="verse0">But gives money and time, to sew and to seek</p> -<p class="verse0">New dresses and wraps, too many to speak,</p> -<p class="verse0">And seems to enjoy each extravagant freak</p> -<p class="verse2">That the mystery of toilet unravels.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Some men will forget in their every-day lives</p> -<p class="verse2">The courtesies due to their spouses;</p> -<p class="verse0">They get kind of used to their homes and their wives,</p> -<p class="verse0">Neglecting the walks, the chats, and the drives,</p> -<p class="verse0">Upon which connubial happiness thrives;</p> -<p class="verse2">But devotion in mine never drowses.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Now, gents, stop your blushing; I did not intend</p> -<p class="verse0">To step on the toes of a single male friend.</p> -<p class="verse0">Your modesty might personalities dread,</p> -<p class="verse0">So I will say that this model depicted—<em>is dead</em>.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">THE STRICKEN SOUTH.</a></h3> - -<p class="pfs80">[<span class="smcap">Summer of 1878.</span>]</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The pestilence that gaunt and grim</p> -<p class="verse2">Stalks through our sunny land,</p> -<p class="verse0">Leaves traces marked with misery</p> -<p class="verse2">In many a broken band;</p> -<p class="verse0">It scatters friends and severs ties,</p> -<p class="verse2">And makes whole cities wail,</p> -<p class="verse0">Neglected dead unburied lies</p> -<p class="verse2">To tell the mournful tale.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">One fickle moon has scarcely passed</p> -<p class="verse2">Since first that blighting blow</p> -<p class="verse0">Crushed hopes of years—all aims of life</p> -<p class="verse2">Seemed paralyzed with woe;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Bereavement, blight, and bitterness</p> -<p class="verse2">Reign o’er our stricken land,</p> -<p class="verse0">And leave the lone and desolate</p> -<p class="verse2">Beside their dead to stand.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Their sunny skies in beauty smile</p> -<p class="verse2">O’er scores of scenes of woe,</p> -<p class="verse0">And seem to mock the misery</p> -<p class="verse2">The fatal records show;</p> -<p class="verse0">Dread burdens every waft of breeze</p> -<p class="verse2">Which pestilence imparts;</p> -<p class="verse0">The very balmy air they breathe</p> -<p class="verse2">Brings poison to their hearts.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Their streets deserted, kindred fled,</p> -<p class="verse2">All busy life is still;</p> -<p class="verse0">Their household gods all scattered lie</p> -<p class="verse2">Before death’s dauntless will;</p> -<p class="verse0">A grave-like silence reigns supreme,</p> -<p class="verse2">No sound but moans and sighs</p> -<p class="verse0">That echoes on the quiet air</p> -<p class="verse2">As some new victim dies.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Fond lips that prayed but yesterday</p> -<p class="verse2">Around the social hearth,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">Are closed in death’s oblivion</p> -<p class="verse2">And mute to sounds of earth;</p> -<p class="verse0">Babes and mothers rest as one</p> -<p class="verse2">Beneath the silent sod,</p> -<p class="verse0">Together summoned sire and son</p> -<p class="verse2">Before the bar of God.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">For bleeding hearts and stricken homes</p> -<p class="verse2">We plead thy pitying care,</p> -<p class="verse0">And beg for mercy at thy will,</p> -<p class="verse2">Oh, God! hear thou our prayer;</p> -<p class="verse0">Relent, and stay the messenger</p> -<p class="verse2">That lurks at every door;</p> -<p class="verse0">Retard his ruthless ravages</p> -<p class="verse2">And health and hope restore.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">“IF EVER I CEASE TO LOVE.”</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Then let the sun with rosy light</p> -<p class="verse0">No longer shine, nor moon by night</p> -<p class="verse0">Her mellow rays around, above,</p> -<p class="verse0">Illume—if I should cease to love.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">May starry heights grow dim and dark,</p> -<p class="verse0"><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note—Original text: 'In absense of that'">In absence of that</ins> heavenly spark,</p> -<p class="verse0">All Nature’s gems in skies above</p> -<p class="verse0">Suspend—if I should cease to love.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">May dancing rills and crystal brooks</p> -<p class="verse0">Rejoice no more mid shady nooks,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor wind in glee through moonlit grove</p> -<p class="verse0">Or glen—if I should cease to love.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Without this magic spark divine</p> -<p class="verse0">To warm and cheer this heart of mine,</p> -<p class="verse0">Nor earth beneath nor heaven above,</p> -<p class="verse0">Could compensate for loss of love.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The moon and stars, the sun and air,</p> -<p class="verse0">The joyous birds and flowers rare,</p> -<p class="verse0">All to me would worthless prove,</p> -<p class="verse0">If ever I should cease to love.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">This lovely land, these sunny skies,</p> -<p class="verse0">No charm would have for loveless eyes,</p> -<p class="verse0">No song from hall or sight from grove</p> -<p class="verse0">Enchant—if I should cease to love.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">AN APPEAL FOR THE MEMPHIS ORPHANS.</a></h3> - -<p class="p1 pfs80">[<em>Recited at the St. Paul’s Children’s Social by Joe. E. Young, 1878.</em>]</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We are happy to meet you,</p> -<p class="verse0">In gladness we greet you,</p> -<p class="verse2">A welcome to all we extend;</p> -<p class="verse0">Your happy, bright faces</p> -<p class="verse0">Show nothing but traces</p> -<p class="verse2">Which kindness and charity lend.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">While we revel in pleasure,</p> -<p class="verse0">Let’s try in a measure</p> -<p class="verse2">To remember our brothers abroad,</p> -<p class="verse0">Who are suffering and sighing,</p> -<p class="verse0">And in misery crying,</p> -<p class="verse2">For comforts they can not afford.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">One short, fatal season</p> -<p class="verse0">Has given them reason</p> -<p class="verse2">For deploring their sorrows for years;</p> -<p class="verse0">Taken father and mother,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">And sister and brother,</p> -<p class="verse2">And left them alone in their tears.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">With no one to love them</p> -<p class="verse0">But the Father above them,</p> -<p class="verse2">No home but the one in the skies;</p> -<p class="verse0">No hope for the morrow</p> -<p class="verse0">To soften their sorrow,</p> -<p class="verse2">No mother to quiet their cries.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">To the cold care of strangers,</p> -<p class="verse0">And the world’s many dangers,</p> -<p class="verse2">Their lot in the future is cast:</p> -<p class="verse0">They will miss every hour</p> -<p class="verse0">The sweet, soothing power</p> -<p class="verse2">Of the love that now lives in the past.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">So, comrades, we pray you,</p> -<p class="verse0">Let no motive stay you</p> -<p class="verse2">From helping the orphans in need;</p> -<p class="verse0">Their friends are all taken,</p> -<p class="verse0">Their homes all forsaken,</p> -<p class="verse2">Their childhood ’s a desert indeed.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">WAITING FOR FROST.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In the silence of night,</p> -<p class="verse2">In the dullness of day,</p> -<p class="verse0">When disease and distress</p> -<p class="verse2">Hold pre-eminent sway;</p> -<p class="verse0">The sad, stricken souls</p> -<p class="verse2">In their misery tossed,</p> -<p class="verse0">Now yearningly sigh</p> -<p class="verse2">For the coming of frost.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">The friends and afflicted</p> -<p class="verse2">Watch evening and morn,</p> -<p class="verse0">For a waft of cool breeze,</p> -<p class="verse2">That a hope may be borne</p> -<p class="verse0">To the souls of the sighing,</p> -<p class="verse2">Whose life it may cost,</p> -<p class="verse0">This continued and fatal</p> -<p class="verse2">Delay of the frost.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Their hopes still deferred</p> -<p class="verse2">Each day brings regret,</p> -<p class="verse0">While the suffering die,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -<p class="verse2">And the end is not yet.</p> -<p class="verse0">Fond wish of the weary,</p> -<p class="verse2">Chilled, blighted, and crossed,</p> -<p class="verse0">Each day disappointed,</p> -<p class="verse2">In the coming of frost.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">By the bed of the dying,</p> -<p class="verse2">By the side of the bier,</p> -<p class="verse0">The bereaved ones sit sighing</p> -<p class="verse2">In sorrow and fear;</p> -<p class="verse0">And others, deserted,</p> -<p class="verse2">In agony tossed</p> -<p class="verse0">On their feverish couch</p> -<p class="verse2">Are praying for frost.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Oh, who can half measure</p> -<p class="verse2">The sorrow and gloom</p> -<p class="verse0">That enshrouds our fair land</p> -<p class="verse2">Like a dark, dreary tomb.</p> -<p class="verse0">May God in his mercy,</p> -<p class="verse2">Ere hope is all lost,</p> -<p class="verse0">Relentingly hasten</p> -<p class="verse2">The coming of frost.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="fs80 pad6"><span class="smcap">Memphis</span>, <em>Oct. 1878</em>.</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">OCTOBER.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">October winds are softly sighing</p> -<p class="verse2">Through the stately oaks and pines,</p> -<p class="verse0">Autumn leaves are wildly flying</p> -<p class="verse2">As all nature now declines;</p> -<p class="verse0">Brightly through the varied branches</p> -<p class="verse2">Breaks the slanting autumn sun,</p> -<p class="verse0">And chirping through the thinning bushes</p> -<p class="verse2">See the swallows homeward come.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">As I watch decaying nature</p> -<p class="verse2">That surrounds our rural home,</p> -<p class="verse0">Revel in these autumn glories,</p> -<p class="verse2">Listen to the soft wind’s moan.</p> -<p class="verse0">See the leaves from green to golden</p> -<p class="verse2">Change their summer hue and fall,</p> -<p class="verse0">The flowers fade, the branches wither,</p> -<p class="verse2">It seems the “common lot of all.”</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">In life we find a fleeting springtime,</p> -<p class="verse2">Rife with fancy’s wildest dream,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">But giving early place to summer,</p> -<p class="verse2">Which with ripened beauties teem;</p> -<p class="verse0">Then comes autumn, sober autumn,</p> -<p class="verse2">Roses scattered, hopes decayed,</p> -<p class="verse0">When spring dreams and summer beauty</p> -<p class="verse2">With life’s flowery fancies fade.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">But the pensive, sad reflections,</p> -<p class="verse2">Musing on those autumn days,</p> -<p class="verse0">Imparts to us a saddened pleasure,</p> -<p class="verse2">Surrounds our life with gentle haze;</p> -<p class="verse0">Takes us through the faded flowers,</p> -<p class="verse2">Crushed and scattered ’neath our tread;</p> -<p class="verse0">Leads us through forsaken bowers,</p> -<p class="verse2">Shows us nature withered—dead.</p> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="fs80 pad6">“<span class="smcap">Oaklawn</span>,” Memphis, Tenn.</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">GEO. FRANCIS TRAIN,</a></h3> - -<p class="p1 pfs70">THE WILD WIT OF THE DAY.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Variable, versatile, stormy, and wild,</p> -<p class="verse0">At times we’re entranced, and then again riled</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">At his wayward remarks and blustering strain,</p> -<p class="verse0">Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Original ever his words and his ways,</p> -<p class="verse0">But orthodox seldom in aught that he says;</p> -<p class="verse0">His fancy, so fertile, takes many a flight,</p> -<p class="verse0">But leaves Truth and Religion quite out of sight.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Ambitious, progressive, political scion,</p> -<p class="verse0">Reminding us oft of a wild, roaring lion,</p> -<p class="verse0">Uncaged and untamed in a woody domain,</p> -<p class="verse0">A manner peculiar to Geo. Francis Train.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">His lectures all seem so wild and erratic,</p> -<p class="verse0">His manner, at times, so raving, dramatic,</p> -<p class="verse0">In a whirlwind of passion he prances and strides,</p> -<p class="verse0">Then subdues—and his rage into poetry glides.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">A perfect enigma, and a genius as well,</p> -<p class="verse0">A tornado, a storm, and then comes a spell</p> -<p class="verse0">Of brightness and sunshine, ’mid thunder and rain,</p> -<p class="verse0">Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Ambitious of honors, position and fame,</p> -<p class="verse0">Determined to win a notorious name,</p> -<p class="verse0">His wish, you will see, in every oration,</p> -<p class="verse0">Is deathless desire to govern the nation!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">To help on his cause, he solicits the aid</p> -<p class="verse0">Of all colors and sexes and sorts ever made;</p> -<p class="verse0">Generous indeed—he’s the workingman’s friend!</p> -<p class="verse0">To hear him—he has only a dollar to spend!</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">Glorious republic! If the prophecy ’s true,</p> -<p class="verse0">When Train is elected—we’ll have nothing to do</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -<p class="verse0">But enjoy perfect peace abroad and at home,</p> -<p class="verse0">The nation will think the millennium ’s come!</p> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - -<h3><a href="#CONTENTS">WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY.</a></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">As years roll on and ages pass,</p> -<p class="verse2">This name of martial glory</p> -<p class="verse0">Leaves traces on the calendar,</p> -<p class="verse2">Which tell the yearly story</p> -<p class="verse0">Of this our “prince of patriots’” birth,</p> -<p class="verse0">The bravest, boldest, best of earth,</p> -<p class="verse0">Whose mighty will and warrior worth</p> -<p class="verse2">Won battles great and gory.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">It tells of valor long since gone,</p> -<p class="verse2">Of victories commended,</p> -<p class="verse0">Of wonders seen and wonders told,</p> -<p class="verse0">Of buried braves and heroes bold,</p> -<p class="verse0">Cast in nature’s choicest mold,</p> -<p class="verse2">Now on earth’s bosom blended.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We sigh in sadness o’er the wreck</p> -<p class="verse2">Of this historic season,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d have its pleasures all return,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d have its patriot bosoms burn,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d have our nation ever spurn</p> -<p class="verse2">The slightest trace of treason.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We’d wander through memorial halls</p> -<p class="verse2">In quest of antique treasures,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d linger round those storied walls,</p> -<p class="verse2">Renewing bygone pleasures,</p> -<p class="verse0">And wishing for that olden time,</p> -<p class="verse0">When our dead hero, in his prime,</p> -<p class="verse2">Contested unjust measures.</p> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We’d hear of battles lost and won,</p> -<p class="verse2">Of dangers braved and ended,</p> -<p class="verse0">We’d hear of patriots, long since gone,</p> -<p class="verse2">Whom nature most intended</p> -<p class="verse0">To live in fame and memory</p> -<p class="verse0">Throughout a long eternity.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<p class="verse0">We’d have our sainted warrior’s name,</p> -<p class="verse2">So famed in song and story,</p> -<p class="verse0">And rendered to our memories dear</p> -<p class="verse2">By records of its glory,</p> -<p class="verse0">Kept green on history’s sacred pages,</p> -<p class="verse0">From now throughout the lapse of ages.</p> -</div></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="no-brk"><a name="ADIEU" id="ADIEU"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">ADIEU TO “MY DEAR FIVE HUNDRED.”</a></h2> - - -<p>We seldom see a preface in the back of -a book, or a frontispiece in the middle, -but as I have always been considered a -little eccentric, I will make a new departure, -and thank my indulgent readers -here for their patient perusal of these -pages. I locate these honeyed words in -the rear as a reward of merit to any one -that is martyr enough to reach them by -the regular route, and those that have not -energy and endurance enough to do so -deserve to lose these chunks of wisdom -and words of cheer. In the preceding -poems are depicted sentiments to suit my -changing moods; streaks of mirth and -wails of misery; childhood’s mischief and -woman’s woe; a mixture of ecstasy and -agony, to suit “the gay or the grave, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -lively or severe.” Now, should they fail -to find a responsive echo in my readers’ -hearts, then is “Othello’s occupation -gone,” and I will fold my hands, dry my -quill, dismiss my muse, and write no -more.</p> - - -<div class="transnote pg-brk"> -<a name="TN" id="TN"></a> -<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</strong></p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been -corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within -the text and consultation of external sources.</p> - -<p>Poetic contractions have been treated consistently. Common contractions -with is or has [such as she’s, there’s, that’s] have no space, but less common -ones have retained the space usually but not always found in the original -book [such as night ’s, turn ’s, mine ’s].</p> - -<p>The space has been removed from other common phrases with contractions, -for example ’T was has been changed to ’Twas, can ’t has been -changed to can’t.</p> - -<p>Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, -and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.</p> - -<p> -<a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a>: ‘My Childhood’ replaced by ‘My Infancy’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_10">Pg 10</a>: ‘Another seige was’ replaced by ‘Another siege was’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_13">Pg 13</a>: ‘towsled hair’ replaced by ‘tousled hair’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_53">Pg 53</a>: ‘My trosseau’ replaced by ‘My trousseau’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_55">Pg 55</a>: ‘A could not see’ replaced by ‘I could not see’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_56">Pg 56</a>: ‘It made be overrate’ replaced by ‘It made me overrate’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_92">Pg 92</a>: ‘He wooes this’ replaced by ‘He woos this’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_94">Pg 94</a>: ‘with gilded mein’ replaced by ‘with gilded mien’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_109">Pg 109</a>: ‘pretty dame Stone’s is’ replaced by ‘pretty dame Stone is’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_128">Pg 128</a>: ‘sober sedatenees’ replaced by ‘sober sedateness’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_140">Pg 140</a>: ‘In absense of that’ replaced by ‘In absence of that’.<br /> -</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A-Naughty-Biography and other poems, by -Mrs. Enoch Taylor - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A NAUGHTY BIOGRAPHY AND OTHER POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 60504-h.htm or 60504-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/5/0/60504/ - -Produced by MFR, John Campbell and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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