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diff --git a/old/69365-0.txt b/old/69365-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6c54d8c..0000000 --- a/old/69365-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2051 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Zephyrs, by Kate R. Stiles - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Zephyrs - With an introduction - -Author: Kate R. Stiles - -Release Date: November 15, 2022 [eBook #69365] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Carla Foust and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZEPHYRS *** - - - - - -ZEPHYRS - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION - -BY - -KATE R. STILES. - - - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, - BY KATE R. STILES, - in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. - - WORCESTER: - A. B. ADAMS, Printer. - 392 Main Street. - - - - -ZEPHYRS. - - -To my angel Effie, the memory of whose life is an inspiration, I -dedicate this little volume. - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -At the earnest solicitation of many dear friends, I present this little -volume of poems before the public, not expecting it will bear the test -of severe criticism. I am not vain enough to suppose that these little -“Zephyrs” will sweep over the spirit with the power of the strong -breezes, which are wafted to the soul from the poems of a Longfellow or -a Whittier. - -Yet, although among the greater lights, the lesser may not prevail, -they may, perchance, send out occasional gleams, which shall serve to -brighten the way for a few hearts. - - KATE R. STILES. - -May, 1879. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE. - - The Dead, 5 - - Clover Blossoms, 6 - - Lines Written on a Stormy Night, 8 - - Lake Quinsigamond, 10 - - Lines Written for the Re-union of Pastor & People, 13 - - Hope, 15 - - The Shipwreck, 16 - - Pansies, 21 - - Little Joe, A Christmas Story, 23 - - The Infinite Love, 27 - - Lines on the Death of a Young Man, 28 - - The Flight of the Robin, 34 - - Musings, 38 - - The Sabbath Bell, 39 - - Words, 41 - - The Postman, 43 - - The Triumph of Truth, 45 - - Memorial Day, 47 - - Be True, 49 - - Bayard Taylor, 51 - - The Husking Party, 53 - - Autumn Leaves, 56 - - Birthday Lines, 58 - - No Room for the Children, 61 - - Inspiration, 63 - - Out of the Depths, 67 - - Life, 72 - - The Babe’s Mission, 73 - - Sweep Clean, 75 - - Castles in the Air, 77 - - Sunbeams, 78 - - Lift up the Fallen, 79 - - Why Tarry Ye Spring-time, 80 - - Invocation, 81 - - - - -THE DEAD. - - - Call them not dead, who leave the earthly for the heavenly state. - Theirs is a life more real than ours; - And, while we weep for them such bitter, bitter tears, - They come to us with words of light and cheer; - Bidding us wait in patience till our work on earth is done. - Then shall we join them in that higher life, - Where all which now seems full of deep, deep, mystery, - Shall be unfolded to our view; and we shall see - That all the discipline of our earth life was needed, - To fit our souls for knowledge infinitely greater, and far more - glorious - Than mortal mind can e’er attain. - - - - -CLOVER BLOSSOMS. - - - Pretty little clover, with your flowers so fair, - Filling with their sweetness all the summer air; - Sad it is to see you crushed by careless feet, - Pretty little clover, with your blossoms sweet. - - Grows the pretty clover everywhere we look; - All along the roadside--by the running brook. - Beautiful and fragrant, are these little flowers. - Ah! how we should miss them from this world of ours! - - Pretty little clover--scorned because you grow - Without care or coaxing--making little show. - Yet your flowers are sweeter than the rose or pink; - Modest little clover--this is what I think. - - There are many lives in this world of ours, - Crushed, and scorned, and slighted - Like these pretty flowers. - Throwing out their sweetness on the desert air, - Only seen by Him, who seeth everywhere. - - - - -LINES WRITTEN ON A STORMY NIGHT. - - - Let the wintry breezes blow! - What care we? - Cold or heat, rain, hail or snow; - Oh what care we? - Life is full of brightness still, - All may find it if they will, - Only say to every ill, - Oh what care we? - - Oft our cup is upside down, - But what care we? - It will do no good to frown, - What care we? - Bravely bear it, as we should. - From the evil comes the good, - Grief’s but joy, misunderstood; - Then what care we? - - Though the world may not approve us, - What care we? - There’s a Heaven of love above us; - Then what care we? - God is with His children ever; - Helping on each grand endeavor. - Fear not then: but answer ever, - Oh what care we? - - - - -LAKE QUINSIGAMOND. - - - Beautiful lake, with thy silvery sheen, - Many a tale thou couldst tell I ween; - Tales of the years long since gone by, - When the wild deer and the wolf were nigh; - When over thy waters fair and blue, - The red man sailed in his birch canoe; - When no step but his was heard on thy shore - As he wandered thy wooded hillsides o’er. - Silvery lake, thou wert then, I trow, - Fair and beautiful as now. - - Beautiful lake, art thou happier to-day, - As over thy waters, the young and gay - Float along in merry glee, - Caring little for what is to be - As they send their laughter thy waters o’er, - Till its echo resounds from shore to shore? - Are these sounds more sweet to thy listening ear - Than the red man’s cry thou was wont to hear? - Beautiful lake, tell me I pray - What dost thou think of life to-day? - - Beautiful lake, so smooth and clear, - Thou hast caused the falling of many a tear; - For in thy dark and strong embrace - Lies many a well remembered face. - Only the Infinite and thou - Canst tell where rest these loved forms now; - But what matters it where the form may be - Since the spirit has risen unfettered and free? - This thou wert powerless to enfold, - Beautiful lake, in thy waters cold. - - Beautiful lake, I love to sit - On thy banks, and watch the white sails flit - And hear the laugh and the merry song - Of happy hearts as they glide along; - Or at sunset’s hour, which is sweeter far, - Ere yet appears the evening star, - To watch the shadows come and go; - And gazing in thy depths below, - Each hill and vale, each shrub and tree, - Reflected in thy face to see. - - Beautiful lake, thou art changeless; but we - Are not what we were, neither what we shall be, - From the first dawn of life, man is changing each day, - And thus will it be forever and aye; - For progression is part of the Infinite plan, - And has ever been, since creation began. - Oh, at life’s sunset hour, looking back o’er the past, - May reflections of beauty, be over it cast; - Even now as each hillside, and valley and tree, - Beautiful lake, are seen mirrored in thee. - - - - -LINES WRITTEN FOR THE RE-UNION OF PASTOR AND PEOPLE. - - - To-night, as in this pleasant home we meet, - The friends of former years once more to greet, - Memory is stirred; and, looking in each eye, - We scarce can feel so many years have glided by, - Since this dear friend and pastor, whom we love, - Pointed us to the paths which lead above. - As once again, we open memory’s book, - Giving the past a retrospective look, - Tenderly we turn the sacred pages o’er, - And read the record of the days of yore. - There have been changes in these homes since then, - For time is ever busy in the haunts of men, - And, mingling with the music of delight, - Are minor strains within our hearts to-night, - As we recall the voices hushed and still, - Of friends who rest on yonder churchyard hill, - Fathers and mothers who long since went o’er - The river we call death. From that near shore - We almost catch the greetings, as we stand; - And reaching over, clasp them by the hand. - But not the old alone, the young and gay, - Have vanished from our earthly homes away, - Their mission ended here, they find above - Some blessed service still, for those they love. - O, not in sadness would we view the past, - For over all a rainbow tint is cast; - The Hand that sends the sunshine and the rain, - Has on us each bestowed more joy than pain! - Were there no shadows in these lives of ours, - We could not fully prize the sunny hours. - Too much we’re prone to dwell upon the past! - The present is the moment! hold it fast! - There is no future--for all time is now; - Let us improve it;--while in faith we bow - To that which is, knowing it must be best; - Rejoice in what we see, and trust God for the rest. - So shall we each and every one--pastor and people, - Hear the words “Well done.” - - - - -HOPE. - - - Tho’ the pathway of life oftentimes seemeth drear - The rainbow of promise ere long shall appear! - The heaviest cloud hath a silvery sheen, - Altho’ through the darkness it may not be seen. - - O, then let us hope! for the time draweth near - When life’s many mysteries shall be made clear. - When hearts that are weary, and burdened with care, - In the “Rest that Remaineth,” shall each have a share. - - - - -THE SHIPWRECK. - - - A ship sailed out on the billowy sea, - Full freighted with precious souls; - And manned by a crew both gallant and free, - Who sing as the brave ship rolls. - - “O, a life on the sea--the foaming sea, - And a home on the rolling tide, - O, a sailor’s life is the life for me, - Yo heave,” they merrily cried! - - “Our boat is stanch, and tried and true, - And a captain brave have we. - Hurrah! Hurrah! we’re as jolly a crew - As sails on the bounding sea!” - - But their song is hushed, as they feel a shock - Which makes their stout hearts quail. - “O, God,” they cry, “The rock! the rock! - The ship has struck a gale!” - - Men, women and children rush on deck, - Their faces blanched with fear. - They clasp each other about the neck; - And they feel that death is near. - - “Go down! go down!” cries the captain brave, - “This is not the place for you. - I will do my best the ship to save; - She has a gallant crew.” - - But e’en while he spoke, above the blast - Was heard the fearful cry-- - “A leak! the ship is filling fast!” - And no earthly help was nigh. - - “Man the life-boat!” cries the captain brave - In a tone of firm command. - “Man the life-boat these lives to save! - And let every sailor stand, - - “Firm at his post, till I give the sign - For him to leave the ship. - All hope of rescue I now resign,” - He said, with quivering lip. - - They lowered the boat o’er the vessel’s side, - Down into the surging sea. - While over it swept the angry tide; - And they felt that only He - - Who holds the billows in His hand, - Could guide this bark so frail, - With its precious cargo, safe to land, - And help it outride the gale. - - Then over the side of that dreadful wreck - The passengers clambered fast; - Till the boat, which seemed like a tiny speck, - Was crowded full at last. - - At length all are gone, but the sailors brave, - Who await their captain’s word; - And soon, above the roaring wave, - His manly voice is heard. - - “Now go, my sailors! go,” he cried. - “You have been brave and true; - And oh, may God, your frail bark guide! - Adieu! brave lads, adieu!” - - “Nay, wait not for me; my place is here, - And firmly here will I - Stand at my post, without one fear - Whether I live or die!” - - Alone, upon that dreadful night, - They left that captain brave. - And, ere another morning’s light, - He found a watery grave. - - Ah! brave young heart! would that we all - Might be as brave and true; - As prompt to answer duty’s call, - As was that gallant crew. - - How few are the hearts, that bravely will stand - By the wreck of a human soul. - Holding on with a firm, loving clasp to the hand - As o’er it the dark billows roll. - - Perchance in smooth waters, our life-boat may glide, - While some tempest-tossed brother may be - Sinking into the dark waves of sin, by our side; - Down into the turbulent sea. - - Shall we stand idly by, without seeking to save - From a fate which far worse may be, - Than the fate of that captain, so gallant and brave, - Who was drowned in the depths of the sea. - - We each have a work for our brother to do. - “His keeper,” God made us to be. - O! then to our trust let us ever be true - As we sail over life’s stormy sea. - - - - -PANSIES. - - - Pansies! pansies! what can compare - With your varied colors so rich and rare? - - Beautiful flower--in thee I trace - The features of the human face. - - And when I look into thine eyes, - They greet me, with a glad surprise. - - I love to touch thy velvety cheek, - And I almost fancy I hear thee speak. - - Ah! well-a-day pansy, you and I - Must part, for the summer has gone by. - - Soon in thy wintry bed thou’lt be, - And a mantle of snow will cover thee. - - There shalt thou rest, till the spring-time rain - Awakes thee from thy sleep again;-- - - Then thou’lt come forth as fresh and bright, - As comes the sun, at the morning light. - - So farewell, pansy; farewell till the spring. - I shall look for thee, when the robins sing. - - - - -LITTLE JOE--A CHRISTMAS STORY. - - - ’Twas Christmas morn, and little Joe - Stood looking out upon the snow - With sad and thoughtful face. - His childish brow was knit with care; - Unlike the smile ’twas wont to wear, - It now bore sorrow’s trace. - His mother said, “What is it, dear? - Come to mamma, and let her hear - The story of your grief. - I do not like to see you sad - On Christmas day, when all are glad. - Come here, and find relief, - By telling mamma all your woe. - What is it troubles little Joe?” - “Mamma, I didn’t mean to be - One bit unhappy--but you see, - I couldn’t help it quite. - I don’t feel very good, because - ’Tis Christmas day--and Santa Claus, - I’m sure, has not done right, - To give so many books and toys - To all the other little boys, - While I have none at all. - Why mamma, he brought Charley Spring - A basket full of every thing. - There was a rubber ball, - And books, and marbles, and a top; - Enough to fill a little shop. - Why couldn’t Santa Claus have said, - ‘I’ll carry some to Joe, instead - Of giving him so many?’ - If I were he, I’m sure I’d go - To every boy and girl I know; - I wouldn’t pass by any; - I’d give them all some toy or book. - Mamma”, and here the child’s form shook - With sobs of pent-up sorrow; - “What makes God give to other boys, - A papa, and such lots of toys? - ’Tis just one year to-morrow, - You say, since God called papa dear - Away to Heaven and left us here. - Why couldn’t he have stayed? - We used to have such lots of fun, - Papa and I, how he would run - When Christmas games we played. - And then the great nice Christmas tree! - Sometimes I shut my eyes, and see - The house we used to live in. - Oh, mamma dear, it makes you cry; - Don’t dear mamma, for by and by - Like papa, up in heaven, - I’ll be a man; and then I’ll go - And buy it back, before you know;-- - And then, on Christmas day - I’ll take you, mamma, there to live. - And oh! such presents I will give! - I’ll have a tree that day, - And call in all the girls and boys, - And give them, oh! such lots of toys, - And if they’re poor, some money. - Oh! mamma, ’twont be long to wait. - Kiss me, mamma, for at the gate - Is little cousin Johnny. - Now, mamma dear, please do not cry; - I’m going out to play, good bye.” - The mother wiped away her tears, - And prayed that in the coming years, - Her darling little Joe, - Might be, as on this Christmas day, - Tender and pitiful, alway, - Toward every child of woe. - - - - -THE INFINITE LOVE. - - - The gates of the “Heavenly City” - Stand open both night and day; - God, the keeper, feels nothing but pity; - He never turns any away. - ’Tis man who closes the portals, - Against his poor brother man. - Alas! that short-sighted mortals, - Should call it the “Infinite plan!” - - Our Heavenly Father is tender! - He loveth His children too well, - To give to each poor offender - The unceasing torments of “Hell.” - His love is more true than a mother’s - For the infant she bears on her breast; - More true than a sister’s or brother’s; - Oh, then in that love let us rest! - - - - -LINES ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG MAN. - - - A mother bends over a darling son, - Whose work on earth is nearly done; - And she cries in accents of bitter woe, - “My darling one, can I let thee go? - Can I give thee back to the Power that gave? - Must this manly form rest in the grave? - These lips to mine, shall I no more press? - Nor my hand clasp thine in fond caress? - Must I wait in vain thy step to hear? - Will thy voice no longer greet my ear? - Oh, this would be anguish too great to bear! - I cannot, oh, Father, not e’en to thy care, - Surrender this life so dear to me. - Oh, Infinite Father, must it be? - Must I drink from this cup of bitter woe? - Oh, I cannot let my dear one go!” - - O’er the couch of his son, the father is bending; - While his tears, with those of his mother are blending, - And his agonized cry to the Infinite One-- - Is, “spare me, oh Father, my idolized son! - Spare the life which so closely entwines round my heart! - My son! oh my son! from thee must I part? - The hope of my future--my pride and my joy! - Oh, what would life be, if bereft of my boy?” - - While in anguish these parents thus plead for their son, - A voice whispers to them “Let God’s will be done.” - “Thy will,” they responded--“oh, help us to say, - Thy will, oh our Father, both now, and alway.” - It stilled the wild tempest of sorrow and pain, - And brought to their minds that sweet promise again; - Of strength, with the trial--of light mid the gloom, - And a life never ending, beyond the dark tomb. - - Then they thought of the loved, who had passed on before, - Who would greet their dear boy, on that beautiful shore-- - And give him a welcome, so tender and kind, - And help him rich treasures of knowledge to find. - There was one, like a sister, they felt she was near, - With the ear of the spirit, her voice they could hear, - Saying, “Be of good cheer; the stream is not wide; - And the friend that you love, is here by your side. - Your dear one will come to this beautiful land, - But still you shall feel the soft touch of his hand. - In whispers of love, his voice you shall hear, - As he speaks to your spirits in tones sweet and clear.” - - Now the breath of the sick one comes faintly and slow, - And they feel that their first-born, their darling must go. - They kiss him once more ere his spirit takes flight;-- - While his lips softly murmur, “dear mother, good night. - Good night my dear father, I go to my home-- - The angels are waiting, they bid me to come.” - One sigh! all is over! the spirit is free! - The casket of clay, no more needed will be. - Compose the dear limbs! fold the hands o’er the breast! - His sufferings are ended! he’s gone to his rest! - No longer these parents their vigil need keep - By the side of their son, he has fallen asleep. - - The father in tears is seeking relief, - The mother is sleeping, worn out with her grief. - In her slumbers she sees the face of her child, - Bending over her pillow; and sweetly he smiled. - She awakes, crying fondly, “My dear one, my own!” - But alas! with her waking the vision had flown. - She thought it a dream--tho’ the vision was true; - And, putting it from her, as poor mortals do, - She moaned in her anguish, “Oh, would I could be - Thus dreaming forever, my dear one, of thee!” - Then, unto her spirit in tones soft and low, - Came the words, “I am with you wherever you go; - And, mother, not only in dreams, shall I be - Enabled to whisper sweet comfort to thee, - For I know that the Father will help me to give, - In the hours of your waking, some proof that I live.” - - Like the fall of the dew upon leaflet and flower, - Like the sound of sweet music, at twilight’s still hour, - Like the glorious sun, after long night of gloom, - These low whispered words, shed a light o’er the tomb, - And the mother, no longer oppressed by her woes, - Sank peacefully back again into repose. - At length she awakes from her slumbers, to find - The light streaming in, through the half open blind; - And she utters a prayer that the sunlight of love - May thus enter her spirit, and lift it above. - Then refreshed and submissive, she says, “It is o’er! - My dear one is resting, I’ll murmur no more;-- - But in faith I will bow to the Infinite One, - For I know, ‘It is well’--‘It is well’ with my son!” - - - - -THE FLIGHT OF THE ROBIN. - - - A dear little maid, one autumn day - Stood under a maple, bright and gay, - Looking up at a robin--with wings outspread, - While in pleading tones these words she said:-- - - “Are you going away little robin? - Your wings are all plumed for a flight. - Would you leave me alone little robin? - Is it thus all my care you requite?” - - “I’ve loved you and fed you, dear robin, - For many and many a day; - Now when I most need you, dear robin, - You’re ready to fly far away.” - - “’Tis true that cold winter is coming - And the leaves will be gone from the tree; - But I have a warm heart dear robin, - Its love shall thy safe shelter be.” - - “I’ll give thee a nook in the window - Where roses and hyacinths bloom. - I need your sweet song, my dear robin, - To drive away sadness and gloom.” - - “I’ll feed you, my dear little robin, - With crumbs from my table each day. - You shall never know want, little robin, - If only with me you will stay.” - - But Robin was deaf to her pleading, - For love will not always prevail; - Her prayers and entreaties unheeding, - He flew from the snow and the hail. - - Away to the south flew the robin, - Where skies wear a balmier hue; - Away from the hand that had fed him, - From the love that was tender and true. - - For a time all went well with the robin, - And he flitted about ’mong the trees; - Warbling his song from their branches, - As they swayed in the warm, southern breeze. - - But at length, our little friend Robin - Grew weary of sunshine and heat, - “I’ll stay here no longer” said robin, - “But will find me a cooler retreat.” - - Then the heart of the poor little robin - Grew sad, as he thought of the day - When he turned from the dear little maiden, - And his nest in the maple so gay. - - “I’ll go back to her home” said the robin; - “Perchance she will bid me to stay. - She was always a kind friend to robin. - Oh, why was I tempted to stray?” - - When spring spread her beautiful mantle - O’er hillside, and valley, and plain, - The maiden oft wondered if Robin - Would come back to the maple again. - - One morn as she threw up the casement - To let in the balmy spring air, - In flew her own dear little robin - And perched on the back of her chair. - - “Take me back to your love,” said the robin, - “I’ll wander no more from your side, - But through winter as well as in summer, - I’ll evermore with you abide.” - - O, is it not thus that the children - Full oft leave the dear old home nest, - To find that though skies may be fairer, - The old love and home are the best? - - And thus do we oft in our blindness, - Unheeding the voices within, - Stray away from the Infinite kindness - To roam in the by-paths of sin. - - But at length we grow weary of straying - For the pleasures of sin always pall. - And a voice to our spirits is saying, - “Let the evil no longer enthrall.” - - And when like the prodigal son, - We turn from our wanderings wild, - We find that the Infinite Father, - Has never forsaken his child. - - - - -MUSINGS. - - - I sat by my window; watching - The flakes of the falling snow, - Flitting hither and thither, - As though asking, “which way shall I go?” - And I likened them in their motion, - To the fate of our human lives-- - Which are never at rest, but kept tossing, - Wherever the tempest drives. - Tossed by temptation and trial, - By necessity, dire and stern. - Jostled, and pushed, and crowded, - Till we know not which way to turn. - Then I thought, as each tiny snowflake, - Drifts at last to the place of its rest, - So, sometime, will each of earth’s children, - Find the work and the place that is best. - - - - -THE SABBATH BELL. - - - Ding dong! ding dong! - Rings the bell from out the steeple. - Ding dong! ding dong! see the people, - As the bell - With its swell - Seems to say - Come away - ’Tis Sabbath day. - - Ding dong! ding dong! - In answer to the call they go. - The rich and poor, the high and low, - To praise and pray, - They haste away; - The numbers swell, - As sounds the bell - Through vale and dell. - - Ding dong! ding dong! - What varied feeling it awakes; - Of joy and sadness it partakes. - O! Sabbath bell, - You cannot tell, - What tender feeling, - And deep revealing, - Lies in your pealing. - - Ding dong! ding dong! - O! Sabbath bells, ring out more clearly, - Till everywhere, hearts more sincerely - Worship and pray. - Ring in the day - Toward which we tend, - When hearts shall blend, - And all our prayers as one ascend. - - - - -WORDS. - - - Words are little things; but then - They decide the fate of men; - By them, souls are stirred; - Ah! how little do we know - What a weight of joy or woe - May hang on a word! - - Could we only stop and think - That perhaps a severed link - From our words may flow; - Would the thoughtless word be spoken, - By which tender ties are broken, - Causing tears of woe? - - Did we know what joy and gladness, - We could bring to hearts of sadness - By a loving tone; - How the weight of care would lighten, - And the dreary path would brighten, - Of the lives so lone! - - Should we not be ever trying - While the hours of life are flying, - For a loving heart? - So that unto souls aweary, - Unto those whose lives are dreary, - We might joy impart. - - Words are little things--yet still - How much of our lives they fill - With their weal or woe. - How much happiness they bring, - And how bitterly they sting, - Every heart doth know. - - - - -THE POSTMAN. - - - ’Tis almost time for the postman’s ring. - Ah! how eagerly day by day - Do we ask--Will he tidings from loved ones bring? - From the loved ones far away? - - Will he come with messages of cheer - Sent by some loving friend? - Or will the tidings be dark and drear, - And the lines in sadness penned? - - Ah! postman! how often does your ring - Prove only a funeral knell! - Alas! how oft does your coming bring - A sadness we cannot tell! - - Though there’s joy in the sound of your well known ring, - There’s sadness, as well, we know; - For often, too often, the tidings you bring, - Cause tears of deep anguish to flow. - - Yet we list for the sound of your well known ring - Each day as the time comes round. - Though we know not what tidings your coming will bring, - ’Tis ever a welcome sound. - - - - -THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH. - - - The light is breaking! the world is waking - From its long sleep of dark despair, - And the glad morning is surely dawning, - When truth shall triumph everywhere. - - For long, long ages, both seers and sages, - Have prophesied of a glad day, - When doubt and terror and every error, - Before Truth’s light should fade away. - - And when the angels with glad evangels - Should come to mortals here below, - And ope the portals to joys immortal, - That thus earth’s sorrowing ones might know,-- - - That life eternal, and joys supernal, - Await them in the coming years. - The full fruition of this condition, - When smiles shall take the place of tears. - - Then do not borrow one care or sorrow; - Let not one doubt or fear assail; - Press onward ever--forgetting never - That Truth and Right will sure prevail. - - With joy and gladness, and not in sadness, - Look to the life beyond the tomb. - O’er all victorious, it shall be glorious - As sunlight, after night of gloom. - - - - -MEMORIAL DAY. - - - We have been to the graves of our heroes to-day, - And over their loved forms have scattered - Our memorial of flowers--sweet blossoms of May; - While we wept o’er the fond hopes thus shattered. - - We wept as we thought of the blood that was shed, - And our hearts thrilled with saddest emotion - As we thought of the loved ones now silent and dead, - Who, filled with the fire of devotion, - - Left all that was dear to engage in the strife, - At the call of their country and nation; - All honor to each who laid down his life, - Whether lowly or high was his station. - - All honor to husband, and father, and son, - Who fought against wrong and oppression; - Let us ever remember, the victory they won, - Gave us liberty for our possession. - - Ah! ’tis meet that a day of Memorial like this, - To these dear martyred ones should be given; - Though it cause us to weep for the forms that we miss, - And sigh for the fond ties thus riven. - - ’Tis meet that we gather the choicest of flowers, - And twine them with fond loving fingers, - To lay on the graves of these heroes of ours - Where affection so sacredly lingers. - - - - -BE TRUE. - - - Speak out for the right! stand up for the truth! - In whatever light you may view it! - Wherever you see there’s a work you can do, - Go fearlessly forward and do it. - - Don’t stop to inquire what people will say; - Your work is your own--not another’s! - Let no one’s opinion e’er stand in your way, - Even though it should be a loved brother’s. - - Wherever your lot in life may be cast, - Whether lowly or high be your station, - If you’re true to your own convictions of right, - You are working for man’s elevation. - - You may not have riches, or honor, or power; - But there’s something far higher and better - For “Riches take wings,” and honor and fame - Too often prove only a fetter; - - But he who can fearlessly stand by the right, - And face every wrong and oppression, - Is richer than he who lacks courage, although - The wealth of the world’s his possession. - - - - -BAYARD TAYLOR. - - - Call him not dead! there is no death! - Although the outward form may perish - And from our sight be hid. ’Tis not the form we cherish. - - Earth well may spare the casket, - If the jewel it contains, - In its brilliancy and splendor, unbroken, still remains. - - Thoughts, words and deeds outlive the fleeting breath! - Transcribed upon life’s page - They ever stand! a joyous, or a darksome heritage. - - These are the man! the clay - Is but the scaffolding, by which we climb - Upward, and onward, toward things more sublime. - - This grand heroic soul, stands now - Without the help of scaffolding of clay; - His spirit basking in the sunlight of eternal day. - - Unto his fellow men he has bequeathed - A legacy of rich and noble thought. - Of him, shall no one say “He lived for nought!” - - Ah! soul so noble and so strong! - From thy new life in realms sublime, - Waft us an inspiration, for the work of coming time! - - - - -THE HUSKING PARTY. - - - ’Twas on a bright October day, - That young and old, with faces gay, - From city homes and country farms, - Went forth to taste the rustic charms - Of an old fashioned husking. - - They came from near and far to see - What old time harvesting might be. - To “Pleasant Hill” they wend their way, - Where, in the autumn sunshine, lay - The golden corn, for husking. - - With hearts brim full of mirth and glee - They fall to work, right cheerily; - And as they work, some slyly say, - “I wonder who will find to-day - The red ear, while we’re husking?” - - And as the merry laugh goes round, - The hills are echoing to the sound. - While stories of the by-gone days, - Of apple bees, and harvest plays, - Make pleasant work of husking. - - The signal comes--they pause at last, - And hie them to the noon’s repast. - And now comes speech and pleasant toast; - While many a fair one makes her boast - Of doing most at husking. - - The hour for dinner being o’er, - They hasten to their task once more, - With happy laugh and merry jest, - While busy fingers do their best - To finish up the husking. - - At length each golden ear of corn, - Is of its outer covering shorn. - Thus might life’s duties all be done, - Would we but take them one by one - Like ears of corn, at husking. - - And now the merry “Grangers” sing - In joyous strains of harvesting. - While sparkling eye, and ruddy cheek - And pleasant smile, all plainly speak - Of the delights of husking. - - The supper o’er, the husking done, - They dance and sing till set of sun. - Then with farewells they speed away, - With happy thoughts of this glad day, - This merry day of husking. - - - - -AUTUMN LEAVES. - - - O! beautiful autumn leaves that vie - With the gorgeous tints of the sunset sky! - I welcome your coming, with pleasure untold; - O, beautiful treasures of crimson and gold! - - There’s a sadness steals over my spirit ’tis true, - At the thought that to summer I’ve bidden adieu; - But the autumn hath glories, which well may compare - With the beauties of spring--or the soft summer air. - - O! beautiful leaves, I’ll not leave you to perish - Alone in the forest--with no one to cherish; - Where the cold winds of winter shall chill and decay - And turn your bright colors all sombre and gray. - - But I’ll gather you up; and with berries and mosses, - My fingers shall twine you in garlands and crosses, - Your beauty shall be, through the dark wintry days, - Like an anthem of joy or a tribute of praise. - - - - -BIRTHDAY LINES. - - - Forty-one years with its hopes and fears, - Forty-one years of smiles and tears, - Have passed--since on my infant brow - A mother’s first kiss was placed; and now, - Sitting here in the twilight gray, - On this my anniversary day, - Let me review the past;--and see - What these years have done for me. - - Forty-one years! why it seems but a day - Since I knelt at my mother’s knee, to pray; - While her voice was ascending in accents mild, - Invoking heaven’s blessings upon her child. - That mother was early called away; - Yet I feel she is near me day by day; - Watching over the child, she left - Of a mother’s loving care, bereft. - - Time passed; and then there came another - To care for her child: a second mother. - God bless her to-night in her distant home, - And when her last hour of earth shall come, - May the mother who bore us take her hand, - And welcome her into the “Summer Land.” - - Ere I reached the years of maidenhood - By a father’s dying bed I stood;-- - Bereft again of a parent’s care, - I felt it was more than I could bear! - Dear father, I know that although unseen, - Thou, too, with thy child hast oft-times been. - A few years more, and a youthful bride, - I pledged my troth at the altar’s side, - To one I had chosen from all I knew, - By whose side to walk life’s journey through. - At length, there came to bless our home, - A little life, from the Great Unknown. - Over this child so frail and fair, - We watched with many an anxious care, - From infancy to girlhood’s years, - Alternating ’tween hopes and fears. - But there came a day when hope was gone;-- - And our beautiful singing-bird had flown;-- - Leaving our hearts so lone and sad, - We thought we could nevermore be glad; - The sun seemed blotted from the sky; - And I almost prayed that I might die. - But from out this cloud, a beautiful light - Shone into my heart; and so, to-night, - Sitting here in this quiet place, - A light from my darling’s angel face - Illumines the past--and I know her hand - Is beckoning me on to the “Better Land.” - - Forty-one years! more than half the span - Allotted here to the life of man! - Years fraught with many a sorrow and care; - Yet from my life record, not one could I spare; - Since in later years, I have come to see - That what is, is best--or it would not be. - True, on my life book, there have been writ, - Deeds which have caused me tears of regret. - But the past is past, and I put it away; - While from my heart I fervently pray, - That my future, if future for me there be, - May be lived more truly and earnestly. - - - - -NO ROOM FOR THE CHILDREN. - - - No room for the children! alas! it is sad - That the dear little children who make life so glad, - Whose innocent mirth and tender caressing, - Should be to their parents a joy and a blessing, - Too often are met with a frown or a sigh, - Their rights all ignored or unheeded passed by. - - No room for the children! how often we hear - So thoughtlessly uttered, the words, “No my dear, - You cannot come into the parlor to-day, - There is company coming; so run to your play.” - The child goes away, feeling troubled and sad; - And she says to herself, “Oh! I shall be glad - When I am grown big like mamma, and can stay - With her and papa in the parlor all day. - I wonder if mamma was ever, like me, - Too little to stay in the parlor and see - The beautiful ladies, with dresses so fine, - Who came with her mamma and papa to dine. - Oh! I wish God would help me to hurry and grow, - And then with papa and mamma, I could go - To ride in the carriage, and not hear them say, - ‘There, run away darling, run off to your play.’” - - “No room for the children!” there may come a day, - When the children no longer will be in the way; - When the angels shall come from the mansions above, - And bear them away to the bright realms of love. - Ah! parents; there may come a day when your child - May be by the tempter ensnared and beguiled; - When the words you now utter, “there, there, run away,” - Shall be changed to the pleading ones, “stay at home, stay.” - - - - -INSPIRATION. - - - Inspiration! oh whence comes it? Whence its power? ah! who can tell? - As it sweeps the spirits’ harp-strings, with its wondrous magic spell! - Wafted to us in the breezes, as they fan our cheek and brow; - Speaking to us in the tempest, ’gainst whose might the forests bow! - Whispering to us from the dew-drops, and the gentle summer showers, - Rushing o’er us, with a mighty overwhelming power, - As with awe and adoration, stand we silent by the sea, - While the roaring, surging billows, tell us of Infinity. - Coming to us from the sand upon the shore, - From the proud majestic mountain reaching upward evermore; - Till the heavens seem to greet them, with a fond and loving kiss. - Oh! the wondrous inspiration, that comes from a scene like this. - How we feel the mighty Presence, as upon the mount we stand! - Gazing outward in the distance, over sea, and over land; - Or beneath, into the valley; where the fleecy cloudlets lie, - Until, like a lake of silver, seems the valley, from on high. - On these glorious cloud-pictures, how we gaze in silent awe;-- - While our spirits, soaring heavenward, from them inspiration draw. - Thus, unto us, nature ever, speaks in tones so loud and clear, - That, whoever will but listen, her sweet cadences shall hear. - But ’tis not alone from nature, that the soul this power derives; - The sublimest inspiration, comes to us from human lives. - From the heroes who have struggled ’gainst temptation’s mighty power; - Battling with the wrong and evil, day by day, and hour by hour; - Till at length they stand victorious over each besetting sin; - Giving proof in daily living, of the purity within. - How such glorious lives inspire us, even though their lips are mute. - Just as sometimes o’er the spirit, does the whispering of the lute, - Sweep with power, by far more potent than can come from organ’s swell; - E’en as from the little brooklet, running through the mossy dell, - We have drawn an inspiration, greater, than when on the shore - - Of old ocean, we stood listening to its ceaseless surge and roar. - Ah! not always will the eloquence of language tell, - There’s an eloquence in silence--we are taught to know as well. - Inspiration! ’tis around us, and above us, in the very air we breathe, - When the Infinite Creator gave us life, he did bequeath - Power to gather this rich treasure from the beautiful and pure. - Drink, then, ever at this fountain; ’tis unfailing and secure; - Fixed as Heaven’s eternal law, - From it every one may draw. - - - - -OUT OF THE DEPTHS. - - - In my home I sat aweary, - Thinking of the life so dreary - That before me lay; - Of the life once bright and cheery, - That was now so dark and dreary, - That had been so sad and lonely, - Since my darling one, my only, - Passed from earth away; - Taking with her all the brightness, - All the joy and all the lightness, - Leaving me so lone, - That my heart could not cease moaning, - Could not cease its bitter groaning, - For my child--my own. - - Thus I sat in deepest sadness - Thinking of the joy and gladness, - That alas! had flown; - Thinking of the joy and pleasure - That she gave in such full measure, - Thinking of her cheerful smiling, - Of her song, the hours beguiling, - And her loving tone. - Till these memories o’er me thronging - Filled me with intensest longing - And I cried, “O tell! - Where is heaven? and is she there? - Did she climb the ‘Golden stair’? - With her is it well?” - - Though an angel child she seemed, - Had she really been redeemed? - Was she born of God? - Had the blood on Calvary spilt, - Made atonement for her guilt? - Thus I pondered, sorely grieving, - The old dogma still believing, - That by Jesus’ blood - Only, could the soul secure - Life in Heaven; and was I sure - That she had believed? - Though her life was pure and sweet, - And she seemed for Heaven made meet, - Had she been received? - - “Lord,” I cried in bitter anguish; - “For some proof my soul doth languish, - That in Heaven above - With the blest and pure ‘Immortals’ - Who have passed within its portals, - With the pure and holy angels, - She is chanting glad evangels, - Chanting hymns of love. - She while here, was ever singing, - Her sweet tones were ever ringing, - Like a silvery bell. - Oh! almost beyond endurance - Seems my grief--without assurance - That with her, ’tis well.” - - While thus, I sat moaning, sobbing, - And my burdened heart was throbbing - With its bitter grief, - Suddenly a voice said near me, - Child of earth, I come to cheer thee; - Come to bring the words of gladness; - Come to drive away the sadness; - Come to bring relief - Come to tell you that your child - With her life so sweet and mild, - Had a heaven on earth. - And Death could not disinherit - Of the pure and loving spirit - Given her at birth. - - But when she passed o’er the River, - When from earth her soul did sever, - All that she had gained - By fulfilment of each duty, - All that gave her life such beauty, - All the love and all the pleasure, - Every grace your soul doth treasure, - All that was attained, - By her, in the earth condition, - Passed with her to full fruition, - When to her ’twas given - O’er the Golden stair to climb - Upward toward the life sublime, - To the life called “Heaven.” - - As he spoke the cloud was rifted - From my soul, the burden lifted, - And a flood of light - Filled my soul with radiant gleaming, - With a new and heavenly beaming - Like a pure seraphic vision - Wafted from the realms elysian. - Life once more seemed bright. - As the flood of light rolled o’er me, - Backward turned life’s page before me, - Backward like a scroll. - And I saw Heaven’s elevation - Could be reached, but by gradation; - By the growth of soul. - - This is what the angel taught me, - This the lesson that he brought me, - That to me was given - As I sat that day aweary, - In my home so dark and dreary, - In my home so sad and lonely, - Where so late, my child, my only, - From me had been riven. - Now no more in doubt and sorrow - Walk I, but sweet hope I borrow - From the lesson taught. - Now I know that Heaven must ever - Come by earnest pure endeavor! - It must be inwrought! - - - - -LIFE. - - - Men come and go! - Almost before they learn to know - That they are here, they disappear. - - Ah! sad ’twould be - If this were all; this mortal life; - These few brief years of pain and strife. - - But ’tis not all! - For when we leave this earthly clay - To higher life we soar away. - - - - -THE BABE’S MISSION. - - - Upon its mother’s breast a babe lay sleeping; - While tears of bitter anguish she was weeping; - The while her lonely vigil she was keeping. - - ’Twas but a few brief years, since she a youthful bride, - Had pledged her troth to one, who, at the altar side, - Promised to love and cherish, till death should divide. - - Alas! how had that vow been kept? - She asked, then bowed her head and wept - Meanwhile upon her breast her infant slept. - - Fiercely the storm was raging; and the rain - With dismal sound beat ’gainst the window pane, - The mother bent her listening ear in vain. - - No sound save of the storm greeted her ear; - Not one familiar footstep could she hear, - To tell her he for whom she wept was near. - - From out the tower the solemn midnight bell, - Fell on her ear like a deep funeral knell; - And at the sound, faster the tear-drops fell. - - “O, God,” she cried, while thus her tears did flow, - “How can I bear this heavy weight of woe? - Shall I no more sweet peace and comfort know?” - - While thus the mother prayed in accents wild, - The babe upon her breast looked up and smiled; - The shadows vanished as she kissed her child. - - She raised her tearful eyes above - And said, “Father, I thank thee for this little dove; - I’ve something yet to live for, and to love.” - - - - -SWEEP CLEAN. - - - We remember well, the lesson - Taught us in our early days - By the mother, who was seeking - To instruct in household ways. - - She would say, “sweep clean my child,” - As in hand we took the broom; - Push aside the chairs and table, - Sweep the _corners_ of _the room_. - - Now in later years, the lesson - Is with deeper meaning fraught; - And we ask, do we the corners - Of our lives, sweep as we ought? - - Do we push aside whatever - Shuts the evil from our view? - Or do we sweep but the surface - Making that seem fair and true? - - While within the hidden places - Of our hearts, there yet may be, - Thoughts and deeds impure, unholy, - That we do not care to see. - - Let us one and all remember, - That to us will come a day, - When the outward guise and semblance, - From the soul, will pass away. - - When the things which now seem hidden, - Cannot but, by us be seen. - O, then, while the hours are flying, - Let us sweep life’s corners clean! - - - - -CASTLES IN THE AIR. - - - How oft in our lives have we builded - “Castles in air.” - They were fashioned in beauty and gilded, - Made costly and rare. - - We thought they were firm and secure, - These castles of ours, - And that they would surely endure, - Through life’s passing hours. - - But alas! they have crumbled away; - These castles of ours; - Faded out like a bright summer day; - Like the beautiful flowers. - - Ah! well! there are mansions above, - More firm and secure; - That were builded by Infinite Love, - And will ever endure. - - - - -SUNBEAMS. - - - Welcome, cheerful sunbeams! - Welcome, to my room! - When you come, you always - Drive away the gloom. - - Life would be less dreary, - Did we let the beam - Of the sun, more freely, - O’er our pathway gleam. - - While we drop the curtain - To shut out its ray, - Nature’s voice is saying - “Bask in it alway.” - - O, then let us cherish - Every sunny ray! - So that when there cometh, - As there will, a day - - When the sun is hidden, - And the clouds are drear, - We may from past sunbeams, - Gather hope and cheer. - - - - -LIFT UP THE FALLEN. - - - Lift up the fallen, oh, pass them not by! - No matter how low they may be, - They are your brothers! and often they sigh, - From the thraldom of sin to be free. - - Oh, you who are strong, a duty you owe - To those who are tempted and weak, - Go to them in love, and in sympathy, go! - And words of encouragement speak. - - To the weak ones of earth the angels come down, - And strive to uplift and to cheer. - O, then let us never pass by with a frown, - But in love to the tempted draw near! - - - - -WHY TARRY YE SPRING-TIME. - - - Why tarry ye spring-time, why tarry so long? - We wait for your coming; we wait for the song - Of the bluebird and robin to fall on our ear. - O, beautiful spring-time why are ye not here? - - We long for earth’s beautiful carpet of green. - We watch for the flowers; but not one can be seen. - For the sound of your footsteps we anxiously wait. - Why tarry ye spring-time, why tarry so late; - - Wake up little buds; come out from the snow - Full long have ye slept, awake now and show, - The beautiful colors, that bring us such cheer, - And then shall we feel that the spring-time is here. - - - - -INVOCATION. - - - Out of the darkness, and out of the night, - Into the realm of Truth and Light, - Far from all things which are gross and material, - Upward toward all that is pure and ethereal, - Lift us, oh, Infinite Spirit! - - Let no temptation or evil enthrall, - Help us to exercise love toward all. - Speed on the day, when of Christian charity - It need not be said, Alas! for the rarity! - - Help us to trust, where sight cannot reach, - Knowing that soon or late unto each - Shall be unfolded the deep, deep mystery - That has o’er-clouded the page of life’s history. - We thank thee, oh Father, that dimly is dawning - The sunlight of Truth, the “Millennial morning.” - And that soon o’er the earth shall re-echo the song, - Of the triumph of Right, over Error and wrong. - - * * * * * - - - - - Transcriber’s note - - - Minor punctuation and format errors have been changed without - notice. The following Printer errors have been changed: - - CHANGED FROM TO - Page 5 “Their’s is a life” “Theirs is a life” - Page 19 “with out one fear” “without one fear” - Page 24 “I could’nt help it” “I couldn’t help it” - Page 24 “Why could’nt Santa” “Why couldn’t Santa” - Page 24 “I would’nt pass” “I wouldn’t pass” - Page 42 “unto souls a-weary” “unto souls aweary” - Page 47 “our heroes today” “our heroes to-day” - Page 47 “thrilled with sadest” “thrilled with saddest” - Page 53 “will find to day” “will find to-day” - Page 54 “hie them to the noons” “hie them to the noon’s” - Page 63 “Rushing o’e” “Rushing o’er” - Page 65 “’gainst temptations mighty” “’gainst temptation’s mighty” - Page 74 “one familiar foot-step” “one familiar footstep” - Page 80 “tarry ye springtime” “tarry ye spring-time” - Page 81 “Millenial morning” “Millennial morning” - - All other inconsistencies are as in the original. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZEPHYRS *** - -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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