LIBUARY OF CONGRESS.*

A

W«ygi€®

Pl©w®»-<

PETsiae

iower,

OTHKR

POEMS.

CHARLOTTE

LENNOX.

"Happinessis awayside flower, growing ontlie iiigh road to usefulness."

BALTIMORE: ';:

FEINTED

BY

KELLY,

PIET

&

CO.

(^

.C4-Entered accordingtoan ActofCongress,intheyear1875,

bj-KELLY, PIET&CO.,

in theofficeoftheLibrarian of Congress,atWashington,D.C.

TO

^EVERN

Je/^CKLE

^AhU?,

OF WHOSE

Professional Eminence and Literary Graces,

THE

MEN

AND

WOMEN

OF

MARYLAND,

Are AlikeJustlyProud, THIS VOLUMEIS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED

A

Wayside Flower 1

The

Thistle Seed 36'

The Old

Manor

House 40

The

Wizard Loom 44

My

Lady

Fair 48

A

Storm

Among

the Sand Hills of Colorado 50

TiredOut 56

Out of the Way...-. 58

Failure and Compensation 61

Mohammed

Ali and the Apple 64

Am

I Glad 67

Welcome

to

Winter

.'

69

Song

—

Nay,

Crown

Me

Not 71

A

Barn

Yard

Kow

73

The Mistletoe 75

Folded Hands , 77

M.Y

Hammock

78

She

Came

From

Heaven

80

My

Little Queen 82

Three Phases 83

The

Magnolia 85

Song

—

I Pray Thee Drop 87

She

Wore

a Cloud 88

Unrest 90

k

WAYSIDE FLOWER.

"Happinessis a wayside flower,growing onthe highroadto

usefulnes?,"

NEELING

there in silent anguish, all her frame convulsed with grief,

Gaze

we

with a tenderpity, where

we

can-not bring relief.

Scarcelyturned of fourteen

summers

—

less of

woman

than of child

—

Old

in sorrow she must needs be, to have learned a

look so wild.

Not

in youth can one great trouble sadden thus the mobile face,

Many

and persistent trials there have been to leave

such trace.

"_O,

_God

!

" she cries, "In mercy hear

me

!

Why

2

A

WAYSIDE FLOWER.

When

ray

own

heart tells

me

daily that the world is

full of bliss

!

'Tis not that I long for riches

—

life alone is wealth

for

me

—

While

inveins so

young

and healthful bounds therich

blood wild and free.

But

I

must

have love, O, Father:

human

hearts are

more

thanstone

;

Send it

me

in kindliest pity, ere I be quite callous grown."

Falling white in feathery showers, apple-blossoms, pure

and

pale.

Fell on hair and

brow

and bosom, decking her in bridal veil.

If prophetic of the future, all unheededwas it now,

As

she stooped with hands outstretching to eulaveher

burning brow.

Kneeling there with tresses flowing, in a little nook

she spied

Sweet Springviolets earlygrowing,shelteredsafe from

wind

and tide.

" I M'ill pluck them," cried the maiden; " even heart

sohard as hers

Must

besoftened

somewhat

towards me,

when

she sees

these and

my

fears."

Then

withfaceof curious mingling, hope and fear so strangely blent.

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

3

Coming

to the garden paling, wistful looks she casts aside,

And

inspiteof vain endeavor,cannotallhertremblings

hide.

Dwells within some hideous monster waiting for his hapless prey,

That shedreads tocross the thresholdwhile she stands

awhile to pray?

Ah

! for hearts so

young

and tender, days of dragons

are notdone

;

And

their numerous snares and pitfalls

work

from

morn

to set of sun.

"

Mabel

!

" cries a voice, whose sharpness tunes her

throbbing nerves to pain,

"Loitering feet

make

lazy beggars, prithee

why

so late

again?

What

! those flowersfor me,youtell

me

!

Put them

in

the crystal vase;

They

had bloomed full long, I'll warrant, ifyou'd left

them

in theirplace.

AVash the children's handsand faces; seethat theyare neat for tea

;

And

be sureyour task is finished,and as neat as neat

canbe."

"So," groaned Mabel, "she can pity even the violets'

early

doom

;

4

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Fifteen

moons

have sunk and risen, since by little

babbling brook,

Mabel

culled the early violets sheltered safe within

theirnook.

Fifteen

moons

of blighting sameness to thegirl whose tortured heart,

Craved with eager,feverish longing, in the world to

play herpart.

Had

a father lived to shield her

—

train her bright untutoredmind.

Which,

in

warmth

and quickness growing, far out-strippedthe

summer

wind

—

Bentand pruned the glorious branches,

bound them

totheparenttree;

—

All unfeltthe eager longing, buttobeuntrammelled

—

free

!

Had

amotherlived to yield her tender loving, with-outstint.

Silvermight have turnedtogolden

—

priceless treasure from themint.

Orphaned

early

—

she had fallen into busy, tireless

hands

;

Hands

that toiled, and rested never, working hard for

house and lands.

Worth

theirweight

—

these

human

engines,never

known

to tire or stay

:

Ceaseless drivingall around

them

from the early peep of day

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

But

too hard for finer natures; her's was

made

of

purer clay

;

And

in all this coarser tumult, she

must

wilt or run away.

Mentalfood wasata discount in this house of virtues

stern,

And

for sympathetic nature, Mabel's spirit sorely

yearned.

In the months since last

we

saw her, childish fear has turnedto hate;

Stands she now, in budding beauty, atthe little lattice gate.

Voice

may

call as sharp as eyer;

Mabel

will not

answer now.

Save with slightly shrugging shoulder and a cold,

avertedbrow.

Youth

hath followed fastonchildhood

—

Mabel

looks the

woman

grown

:

Oft the

bud

we

leave at nightfall in the

morn

a rose

hath blown.

Poor pale rose ! whose drooping petals, drenched

by

night's toocopiousshow'rs.

Only

need to flush with beauties, one of daylight's glowinghours.

Quick

thedawning! O'erherfeaturesflashessunlight

born of love

A WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Is herjinguishedprayer, then,answered bythe pitying

Heaven

above ?

From

beneath the deepening shadows, comes ayouMi

of noble mien

;

Scarce you'd

wonder

at her loving, if the vision you

had

seen

:

Quick

she fliesto greet his coming

—

eyeslook love to eyes again

;

Out

of sightand all forgotten, sink pastyears of toil and pain.

Koses

bloom

in myriads roundthem, lilacs breathe of

early love;

All earth's fairestprospects

bound

them,

and

thesky bends blue above.

What

to her the cold discomfort she has

known

throughout her life!

In

her dreams she sees another,with sweet love and blessing rife

;

"Vine-clad cot

and

rusticbower; dreams whose

vague-ness

make

moresweet

:

In

the lifeshe

now

is leadingtwoextremes of feeling meet

:

Loathingfor thetortured childhood, sweet forgiveness

of the past

;

For when

one's supremely happy,

how

can hate or

A WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Lifeis sweet

when

love has crowned us, and

we

ask of fate no more,

Than

to leave us where love found us, with our full

cup

brimming

o'er.

In thedim, uncertain twilightof an evening softand

Igray, .

When

the shadoAVS seem coquetting with the fading

beams of day

—

From

a mansion, tall and stately, with its

windows

open wide.

And

a porch where sweet clematis tangles

up

on every

side;

Steals a figure through the gloaming with a shyand

nervous haste

—

Isit

some

forbidden pleasure she has stolen forth to taste ?

She

has seen scarce eighteen summers, and achildish

look of dread

Mantles o'er the lovely features as she droops her queenly head.

It

may

be

some

eye hath

marked

her as she stole

adown

the stair.

With

her little paper parcel and her shining tresses

bare.

Not

the old romantic ladder with the beating heart

8

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Waiting there to clasp his jewel, gliding

down

the

roundsso slow.

Ah!

that sweet romance hath vanished witii the age

thatgaveit birth,

And

elopementatthe present, savorsstrongof

woe

and

dearth

;

For

the age is realistic, and alover worth the name,

\yith a goodly share of fortune, or a promise of fair

fame.

Does not needto pleadhis passion on an unfrequented

street.

But

may

lay his pledges boldly in the eyes of all they

meet.

Yes,thedays of lordlycastles and of towers tall and

grim.

Whence

themaiden

waved

her kerchiefandkeptwatch

alone for

him

;

When

atheftwas somethingnoble, ifa heartwerebut

theprize,

And

acourtshipdoublypiquantif'twerehedgedabout

with lies

—

They

have vanished, and a bridal to

command

the

world's applause.

Must

conform toall its notionsand begoverned

by

its laws.

What's a bride without a trousseau but an everyday

affair

!

A

pea-fowlshorn of plumage has a very sorryair

A WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

\)

And

where a

dame

ouce needed but a single silken gown,

A

girl must

now

have twenty, or be sneered at bythe

town

!

Something doubtlessof this feeling stirred within the

culprit's heart,

Although she scorned to

own

it,and held boldly to

her part.

Hark

! is.that afoot-step? andshe glides intoa run.

Keeping

well within the shadow every passer-by to

shun

;

Till beneath an ancientgateway she is clasped so close

and warm,

That no

room

is leftfor tremblings,andshedreams no more of harm.

"

_My

darling,oh!

my

darling, do you give yourself

tome?"

And

he clasps her slight frame closely, and he clasps

hertenderly.

"Yonder,

in the ivied Chapel, stands the Priest to

make

us.free."

"

_He

is waiting for us, dearest; and I, only wait for

thee."

So,in the gathering darkness,matethese birdsofearly

spring

;

Scarce waiting to be full-fledged ere they're off,and

10

A WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Likethe birds, they think hereafter to provide their

humble

nest

;

Its fairwalls will rise

by

magic; or, if not, she hath

hisbreast.

No

reminder of the adage, that a bride should have

thesun

;

And

the shadeshavefully gathered erethe Priesthas

made

them

one.

Billows kiss the sands and vanish

—

flowerets blossom

but tofade

;

Nature'ssweetest things are frailest

—

sunshine's

fol-lowedsoon by shade.

One

by one illusions leave us; and

more

blest,

per-chance, are they

Who

have seen their treasure perish ere it met the

noontide ray.

As

the babe

we

lose in childhood-ere its faults are giantsgrown.

Memory

decks with rarer virtues than the flowerets

full)"- blown,

So the lovethatleft us moaning, ereitshues had time

to fade, *

Fancy

clothes in brighter colors than the one ourlife

has

made

;

And

the passion early stifled, though it bring us

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWJER. 11

Lives inall its fairproportions safe from earthly spot orstain.

Days,

and

weeks, and months hadvanished :

autumn

gathered in herstore,

And

the eyes sosweetly tender, saddest look of yearn-ing wore.

Who

that e'er has knelt in anguish o'er a hope too early dead.

But

can "weep intenderpityfor thissorrow-ladenhead. Likeaflash ofglorious sunshineonagloomy,dripping

day,

To

her inmost depth of being love had quickly Avon his way.

Won

his

way

with shoutand laughter, tintingallwith

roseate hue

—

Deckingearth in richer colors,

making

summer

skies moreblue.

Now,

the clouds had sullen gathered, and the sun had ceased to shine,

And

thetempestbrooded darkly overoak andclinging vine.

How

or

why

the change befell, boots not

now

for us

12

A WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

But

withheartsthat pitysways,followMabel'swinding

ways.

She had thought her life complete,dreamed of every

blessing sweet,

Sureto be herveryown,

now

lier heart seemedturned

to stone.

Why

had hesocareless

grown

! shehadloved

him

none

the less

—

Then

she'd shrink, lest viewless spirits should have

heard herheartconfess.

Was

it that in these short months she had

grown

less

pleasipg fair ?

And

her eye themirror sought with a troubled,

ques-tioning air

;

And

her haughty head would straighten

—

none

must

know how

ill shefared:

Never

yet theworld had pity for the heart before it

bared.

What

iflove had lost its sweetness! life liad other

gifts in store:

She

would

seek for mental riches

—

search the world for varied lore.

Many

a

woman,

'reftofloving,hadbegot aworld-wide fame

:

She would set the nations ringing with the music of her name.

Only

they who've loved and suffered

know

to touch

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

13

Now,

as ia the days of Eden,wider range sad

wisdom

brings.

But, alas! these stern resolvings melt into a milder

mood

—

Fell despairmust sweepthe harp-strings ereawoman's

muse

be wooed.

And

sweet Mabel, sad

and

heart-sore,still had gleams

of heavenly hope

—

Lower

stillthe cloudsmust darkenif her

mind

would find itsscope.

Gracious

Heaven

! she

had

seen

him

toywith locks of

goldenhue

:

Twine them

gently 'round his finger

—

sun himself in

eyesof blue.

Had

her

own

he praised so lately losttheir glossy

nut-brown

shade?

Were

hereyes, sodark and melting, dull beside this

airy maid?

Tush

!

The

mirror plainly told her that her bloom

was nonethe less:

Shemustprobethemysterydeeper

—

forcehertortured hearttoguess.

She had read in

moments

stolen from her short and busy life

—

Nay

! had heard that maids once

wedded

were not

14

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

She had

deemed

itbut a fable; or, if

men

could beso base,

It was but to

common

vessels

—

was she not a porce-lain vase

!

He

had sought her from the

moment

that their eyes as strangersmet.

She

had

used no tangled meshes, spread not one, coquettish net.

He

had beenatpains to win her; lookedtheverysoul of truth

J

How

should she, the child of nature, see beneath it

woe

and ruth

!

He

had

vowed

to keep

him

ouly unto her while life

should last

—

Sharewithher his tiniestjoy; shelter her from every

blast.

Did

he think because hegave her

name

and

home

and daily bread

—

Kissed her

when

the

mood

was on him,smoothed her

simplybraided head

;

That the heart himself had wakened, satisfied with

meaner things,

Could content it with the body

when

the soul had

taken wings

!

Out upon

the faithless craven! he should

know

as he

was

known

;

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

15

Cold and gray each morning fell, and the days were

darkas well.

Children's laughter shrilly jarred; sunshine

mocked

her tortured soul

;

From

her very birth ill-starred

—

born to trouble and to dole

—

Oh, shehad been

mad

todream! Happiness wasnot

forher :

God

had given this passing gleam just to

make

the

rest

more

drear.

How

hadshe sodeeplysinned,more thanall theworld beside?

Only

to a hardened criminal, endless trouble should

betide.

AYould her drearyround ofsamenessne'erhad

known

this flash of light

!

When

the lightning transient glimmers, darker grows the

brow

of night.

Softly! tortured heart, be still!

Bow

thee to thy

Saviour's will

!

Not

inwrath,

He

sorrowsends; but in pitying mercy bends

;

Tells each throb that wrings thyheart

—

marks each pearlydrop that falls;

And,

in tones of pityinglove, lowthe blessed Saviour

16

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Castthy broken troth behind thee ! look

up

with the

eye of faith

!

All above, beside, around thee,springs

new

life from

out of death.

Ask

not

why

thegourd is smitten; bear theburdenof theday

;

Hopeful tread the arid desert

—

flowers will spring along the way.

You

haveseen in earlyautumn,

when

theripened fruit

is done.

Second

bloom

of

snowy

clusters sparkling in the mellow sun

;

All unmindful of the leaden skies a few

more

weeks

may

bring.

Decking all their shrivelled branches with the buds

of early spring

:

Melancholyin their beauty,spending all their sap in

vain ;

For

the winds of earlywintersoon will rend the buds intwain.

So with Mabel.

From

the harvest, strewn so thick

with blindingtears,

Therehad

budded

yet another: recompense forallher

fears.

Fairesthopethat

Heaven

can send! Beat againsther

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

17

What

might prove her purest joy, or mightpoint still

keener dart.

What

if Fate shot unrelenting, poisoned arrow from

herstring,

And,

'neath guise of new-born blessing, copy of the father bring!

How

she shudders at the fancy !

Heaven

guard her

from suchfate !

—

Lestthe hope in its fulfilment should arouse a v/orld

of hate.

Might

she greet a tiny daughter,hope and joy would bloom

anew

;

And

in her

^

herspecial treasure

—

ceaseto

mourn

her

love untrue.

Bendingo'erher

new

bornblessing

—

noting each small cherub grace

;

Seethe smile likedaylight dawning,stealing slow o'er

Mabel's face

!

Not

e'en all the pain attendant on this mystery of

birth.

Nor

the shadows which have darkened life for this

frail child of earth.

Can

efface themother's yearnings o'er the lifeherself

hath given

:

Fate, which hath so hardly used her,yields her

now

18

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Touching

now

the dimpled fingers,

now

the scanty goldenhair,

Kissing each incipient dimple; was there e'era form

sofair ?

Sitting quiet there beside her, noting with

amused

smile,

All themother's rapturoustoying, whilehis

own

heart

throbsthe while.;

—

Seems he like

some

wondering schoolboy,o'er a prize

notfairly

won

;

Or

like prince in olden legend at a sight hissenses

stun:

When

as goes theolden story,hehas cleftpoorpussy's

head.

And,

all wondrous to beholden, rises

up

a queen

instead.

Will hegather

up

thefragments with regretful, tender

pride?

Strew the sepulchre with flowerets, all the ghastly wreckto hide?

Then

with heart this wondrous mystery shall have freedfrom all itsdross.

Link

again theirlivesso closely that theylose allsense

of loss?

Softly! softly!

From

the marsh-lands, carpet as ye

may

withbloom.

Comes

a life-destroying odor: all

who

will

may

scent

A WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

1'9

Souls like these, by nature wayward, though yechain

thera fora day,

When

ye

deem

them

closest bounden, break their bonds like

smoke

away.

Vain, alas! our hopes and scheming!

What

are

we

but potters' clay?

Even

the eyes so lately opened to the joyous light of day.

Bright and blue, as were its father's,smiling

up

into

her own,

, Brought her but a doubtful gladness : some day she

mustsee

him

grown.

Would

he torture, like another, her

who

loved

him

morethan life ?

Would

he

woo

some tender maiden,

making

her a wretched wife?

God

forbid! Shewouldnotkeep

him

where the taint

of sin could find

;

•

And

a_project,vagueand _floating, formed _itselfwithin

hermind.

She had leftherold surroundings scarcetwice thirteen

moons

before.

Proud

to follow in his footsteps

—

all for love and

nothing more.

Why,

when

love had left her moaning, should she

20

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

She

would

wander through the wide world with her jewel at her breast.

He,the faithless,light o'loving,let

him

fareas besthe

may

!

He

wouldscarce regret her leaving, since it left

him

fuller sway.

True, hestill would swear heloved her, and at times

so sweet would woo.

That, with

woman's

yielding nature, she would half believe

him

true:

Stifle all her inward doubting, as he'd say, with

sun-niestsmile,

"

_Must

_{I needs} decry thee, dearest,

when

I praise ,

another's style?

If I wander for a moment, gaze on all that's bright and fair.

And,

in birds of other plumage, seek to

know

the strangeand rare,

—

'Tis but as the artist striving to enrich his varied

store.

And

from all the

new

andcuriousI return tolove thee

more.

As

a birdon wantonpinionhies

him

lightlyto his nest,

I,from all

my

fleeting fancies, rest securely on thy

breast."

Thus

in

moods

of fitful loving, glimpses of the past

would

rise.

Bringing happier days before her,

when

he lived but

in her eyes

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

21

But

the chordtoo often sounded palls at last upon the ear;

And

abittersmile

now

lingered,sadder far than rising

tear.

Autumn

winds were sighing gently thro' close

woven

boughs of pine,

And

thetenderscarlet cypress long ago had ceased to

twine.

Needles, as the children call them,

made

acarpet soft

as

down

;

Richer far with oderous breathings than the bright bouquets of town.

Night was falling, softandsolemn, lighted bya single star.

When

thro'all the tender quiet

came

a ringingsound

afar.

Nothingbut a doorwayclosing,fromthe cottageonthe

hill

;

Yet

thesoundso sudden fallingbrings a dreary sense

ofill;

Closingon a hearthalf broken, ona heated, 'wildered brain.

On

thelife she leaves behind her, tired, impatient of

the pain

;

Claspingclosely to her bosom theone thing shedeems

her

own

22

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWEK.

'Cross the lawn and little

meadow,

now

she nears the boundary stone

;

Opes

thegate with sudden clainor, shuts it with

impa-tient hand,

Seeming lightenedof a burden as she treads an alien

land.

Down

the narrow starlit roadway, where the shadows

meetingfell

—

Shadows

falling all around her, crossing cheek and heart as well.

Littkheeds she of the omen, checquered tho'herpath

may

be

;

But

one feelingthrobs exultant

—

once again herlifeis

free.

Free from all the cold awakening following her short

dream

of bliss

;

No

more

shall her lips be tainted witha careless per-jurer's kiss.

In the red

mouth

nestlednear her,she will cleanse her

own

with

dew

:

Working

hard forhim, herblessing, love and life will

dawn

anew.

Ah

!

how

vainly inourblindness,

human

atoms as

we

are,

Swear to throw the past behind us, choose

anew

our guidingstar

—

Ignorant that the

woof

once

woven

cannotso berent in twain

A WAYSIDE

FLOWEE.

23

And

the threads that passion sever, in

some

form will

cross ao;aiu.

Brooding! brooding! ever brooding, and the

brow

oncesmoothand fair

Traces shows of weary waiting 'neath the glorious waves ofhair.

\yhat,then! has the boastedfreedom, thatshe came so

far to seek,

Left her with an altered outline and this strangely pallidcheek?

Sureit cannot bethat hungerravages a form so fair

!

No

! forseeyon bloomingcherub,lisping lowhis

even-ingprayer.

"

Heavenly

Father,bless

my

mother; bless

my

absent

father, too

—

Make

me

good and take toHeaven, evermoreto dwell with you."

So, then, afterall her effort to forgetthe painful past,

Shehas taught her boyto love

him

—

pray he

may

be

blestat last.

Out

upon you, oh, fainthearted!

Do

the

men

then

paint us true.

When

they say once loved, loved always, though

we

may

that loving rue?

Can

we

never,self-reliant,choosethepath ourfeetshall

24

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Ah

!

we

may

-^ and so might Mabel, had the still,

small voice been dead.

Bravely she

had worked

andstriven,happiness in hope

to find

;

Dwelt

with pride onbaby's progress

—

watchedunfold

his infant

mind

—

Resolutely shutting from her all thepast,*withall its

care,

Dwelling only on her darling in his boyish promise

fair;

Till one day, with blue eyes widened, he

had

come

to

her and said,

"Dearie mother, where is father? Tell me, is

my

father

dead?"

Then, with sudden sharpest smiting, she

had

caught

him

to herbreast.

God

in

Heaven

!

why

hadshe torn

him

thusfrom out

theparent nest

!

Why

had she, like some

mad

courser, taken between

herteeth thebit

!

He

might live but to reproach her: bonds of blood

arefirmly knit.

Why

had sheforgot theteaching all herlife had gone

toshow,

That

with

God

our future resteth

—

^as

He

wills it

fallethso

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

25

If

He

thinks it fit to send us quiet lives and

happy

hearts,

We

may

restwithout a shadow, safe from all misfor-tune'-sdarts.

But

if

He,

with infinite wisdom, closer

draw

the

chastening band,

We

must

bow

in

meek

submission,lest

He

laya heavier

hand.

Early memories surging, thronging from a troublous depth of soul.

One

by one from memory's chambers silent to the surfacestole.

Had

she, then,beenweakest craven,

when

she

deemed

herself mostbrave.

Leaving thus her cross behind her, battling 'gainst a

self-made

wave

?

Memory

drew,in vivid coloring,how, on eve of early spring,

She

had

mated, with the birdlings

—

on her

hand

a

golden ring

;

At

herfeetanardent suitor; inherearasiren song ;

In

her heart a boundless loving

—

o'er her past a

boundless wrong.

Love

had failed herat the outset,turned her sweet-nessestogall

;

Robbed

her of hersweet, confiding love

—

of faith, of

26

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

No, not all; forthere beside her, flushed withroseate

hueof health,

Lay

a joyous cherubcradled

—

sum

of all herworldly

wealth.

What

if he, hisfather's image,lived to chide her for

the

wrong

She

had

done

him

in deserting!

Did

he not toboth

belong?

Might

henot,

some

future morning,

wake

to crave a

father's kiss?

Taunt

her with the crime ofhaving robbed

him

of a

fancied bliss?

Yet,

why

fancied!

He

had

loved him, in his easy,

careless way.

Why

might not that love have deepened, growing on fromday today?

Even

now

he might be grieving

—

not for her, she

knew

itwell

;

But

forall his darkened hearthstone, and his child

—

how

could she tell

!

She had sworn to love andcherish till e'en death itself

should part

:

Was

her promise only binding while she bore a

light-some

heart?

Out

upon herfora craven!

Not

thus lightly

vows

are

made

—

Once

united, one forever, be itsunshineor in shade. She had sinned!

Not

hers the only darkened heart

A WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

27

Life was full of sad-eyed reapers, gathering where

they hadnotsown.

Gathering wheat and tares together

—

seeing only darklynow,

But

with hope of clearervision if they turn notfrom

theplough.

List!

A

wailof mortal anguish!

How

her unloved

childhood's years,

All hersilent wifely anguish, all her passionate

heart-wrung

tears,

Die

into the past behind her, blottedoutby one great blow:

Bows

shein the gathering darkness o'era form as cold as snow.

Lying

like alilycradled,everyroseate tinting gone. Pure and pale as early snowdrop

—

child of hasty

wedlockborn.

Gone

thefaintest traceofbreathing.

Now

shegivesa

fitful start.

As

she laysher hand, despairing, o'erthealmostquiet

heart.

^Tis but life's last feeble fluttering. Colder still the

fingersgrow.

28

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Draw

the veil o'er days of darkness! nights of

loneli-ness, thatstare

Wide-eyed at the sleepless sufferer, peopling all the

oppressiveair

Thick withhideous,throngingfancies: ghostly

memo-ries stalk abroad.

Outcast

by

her

own

wrong-doing, dai'e she call

upon

her

Lord

?

If in path of daily duty, set her by theMaster hand,

This her sorrow

had

befallen, then, indeed, she might

demand

Comfort froma sourceunfailing:

now

she cannot,dare

notpray.

Is it not a wrathful smiting that has taken her child

away?

God

is just as well as loving.

Was

it meet that she should keep

Stolensweets?

The

fruits ofevil soon orlater

man

shall reap.

Vain, all vain, her long foreboding of a child like

father grown.

Fool! to thinkthatanyblessing cpuldforlongremain

herown.

She had gloried in her daring, proud of heart and

brai^ as well

;

Every

friendly offer

made

her shehad hasted to repel.

Now,

alone, forsaken, outcast, her one

bud

of promise

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

29

Broods, there, o'erherstricken being pause likethatof tempest hushed.

Then

a rain of softer feeling

—

might she not be one of those

Who

can only reach the haven through successive

heartfelt woes?

Whom

our Father loves

He

cliastens.

Ah

! she sees

itdimly now,

And

a gleam of heavenly radiance hovers o'er her

darkened brow.

Shehas

made

herselfheridol,graspedathappiness below. All unmindful that its flowerets must on duty's

path-way

grow.

Blind,-exacting,proud, impulsive, she has thrown life's

chance

away

;

Happier hearts are beating roundher

—

hearts of com-moner, humblerclay.

Hearts that,robbed of earlier dreamings, comfort seek

on bendedknees,

And,

in life's sweetministrations, findrewardin hearts at ease.

She will seek, like them, a future quite distinct from

out thepast.

And,

in paths

by

Him

appointed,

homage

pay to

wis-dom

vast.

Day

isbreaking!

Through

the graynesscomes ahint

ofrosiergleam.

30

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Day

is breaking, earth is

waking

—

million hearts with gladness teem.

Down

the maple-shaded roadway, where the tears of night still lie

On

the grassy border, waiting for the smile of day to

dry,

Comes, in sad andstartling contrastto thebright'ning hues of day,

Solitary

mourning

carriage,

making

slowits toilsome way.

Passes by the wicket gateway for the wider carriage

road:

Here

and therea passing teamsterwonders what

may

be itsload.

Only

one sad, pale-eyed

woman,

bearing on her trem-bling knees

What

remains of life's elixir: henceforth she must

drink thelees.

Through

theavenueof beeches

—

roundthe

now

neg-lected lawn

—

Halts beside a drooping willow, jand a little coffin, borne

Gently on analien shoulder,lowerstoitsearthlyrest

—

Not

a single sob escaping from the pallid mourner's

breast. ,

Wedded

maid, yet

widowed

matron! There are those

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

31

vVho,from some

mad

freakoffortune,seempredestined

to be hurled

From

the rock they've sought as shelter, out again

upon

the storm.

Not for

them

the quiethaven! Oft a seeming frailer

form

Than

our Mabel's buifets bravely where a stouter would succumb

;

With

a face all set with sorrow, and white lips all

stricken

dumb,

Battling for a mere existence

—

reft of allthat

makes

life worth

;

Yet

with sad persistence clinging to the bare

brown

shell of earth.

Till

we

wonder

who

are happier

—

that death draws

not soonernigh ;

Wonder

that they do not curse them

—

curse their

Maker

—

turnand die!

Broken

hearts!

Why

waste our pity on the hearts

that truly break?

Mourn

for those

who

wake

while sleeping, and

who

sleep

when

most

awake

!

Broken

hearts! aye, sound a paeon! as

we

lay

them

dusttodust,

Happierthan their throbbing sisters finding taint, or gatheringrust.

Waking

from the sleep of ages, with the current hardly stayed

32

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

Leaping into life eternal! no slow raptures long

delayed ;

As may

bewith tardiernatures,breaking slowthrough

earth'scold crust

;

Leapingintojoyfrommadness,as intensernatures must.

How

with

Mabel

?

Hers

a spirit neither born to

bendnor break.

Soulsthere arewhose livesare two-fold,and

who

from their mantleshake

All undue,untoward tracesof thepurifying storm:

Follows after

summer

showers, sunshine but a shade

less warm.

What

of those

who

die before us! There are

some

who

would deny

Recognition of earth's loved ones in a

home

beyond the sky.

Perish teachingso ignoble! J^ost ones meet us atthe

door

—

Nay

! " not lost," but missing rather

—

only gone a

whilebefore.

Thisthe key to Mabel's future! sweet eternal rest to

win

;

But

a few more years of labor

—

Christian warfare conqueringsin.

Night is falling, soft and solemn, lighted

by

asingle

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

33

When,

through all the tender quiet, comes a ringing

soundafar.

Nothing but a doorway closing, from the cottage on thehill.

And

a quietfigure sitting silent onthe shadedsill.

All alone, yet not despairing

—

life of daily duty

wrought,

Even

to this erring being hath a sweet contentment brought.

Coming

back to

home

deserted

—

knowing

naught of him, its head

—

She has labored daily, hourly, to provide her scanty

bread.

Sought

by

all

whom

grief hath stricken, loved alike by old andyoung.

Moves

she like a ministering angel, all the sad and

poor among.

In herheart achastenedsorrow: on herface a smile so

rare.

One

would know, byintuition, she had

met

and con-quered care.

Not

in days or weeks of penance hath the touching

change been wrought

;

But by

conscientious labor

—

who

will say too dearly

bought

!

Sometimes, in the falling twilight, resting from a day

of care.

Comes

a tender, chastened

mem'ry

of a face once

34

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

What

if fate should lead

him

hither, tiredof roaming roundtheworld,

Just again toview the homesteadwhence life'skeenest dart was hurled?

She

would

meet

him

without question

—

tend him, if

itso might be ;

Lead

him

to the little hillock 'neath the once loved

willow tree.

O'er that grave of earthlypromisefickle heartmight

flame anew,

And,

inblessed tears repenting,riseto earnestlife and true

—

Not, she knew, the sweet

communion

oftwo spirits

blent in one

:

Life's best chances thrown behind them, ne'er the

wrong

can be undone.

But, though barrier lay between

them

lapse of time could ne'er efface.

She might yetbecomehisblessing,aidedand sustained

by

grace.

Giving all and asking nothing, only seeking light

Divine,

That,perchance, a face she

wot

of might at lastwith

radianceshine.

Whether

in the distant future buds of promise shall

A

WAYSIDE

FLOWER.

35 Wreathing iu their tender beauty all the scarred and

rivenstone

—

Filling, with a soft completeness hope alone can e'er

bestow,

All the quiet years for

Mabel

—

boots not

now

for us

toknow.

Leave

we

her to silent musings, neither butterfly nor

drone,

Claspingclose awayside floweret, onlife's busy

mm^mmk

THE

THISTLE SEED.

PENITENT

kneltat thegrated door,

And

the words

came

softand low,

As

she gathered up with a dainty

hand

Her

lavender dressbelow.

"

_Ah

! Father," she cried, "

my

heartis sore

;

My

sins, they are

many

andgreat

:

I have heededno

word

of thegolden rule.

And

have paidfair love with hate.

I have married a

man

forhisprincely wealth,

And

havegiven

him

naught but scorn

;

Ihave wastedin riot

my

precious health.

And

my

parents are leftforlorn.

I have turnedaside from the beggar'splea,

Yet

revelled ingold myself;

And

my

early friends have been naught to me,

For

they hadnor famenor wealth."

She paused. "Is thisall ?" the Father said.

Sheanswered, in flute-liketones:

—

THE

THISTLE SEED. 37

" Alas !

my

daughter/' the Priest replied,

"

_You

_havetold jne of sorry deeds

;

Of

floweretspluckedwith a ruthless hand

—

But

what of the deadly weeds?

What

of the sins'of that silverytongue?

Hath

it uttered no

word

buttruth?

Hath

it circulatedno slander foul,

Rolled 'neath remorseless tooth?"

A

blush onthe fair cheek slowly grew,

A

blush thatwas born of dread.

*'_I

have doneasmost of

my

neighborsdo

—

I havesinned!_{"the sweet voicesaid.}

No

question more from the Priest within

;

But

his hand through the gratingstole, Holdinga ripened thistletop,

In itscalyx, green andwhole.

"

Be

thisyour penance,

my

child," said he.

"

_Take

_{each small seed alone.}

And

scatter themseparate, far andnear. Tillyourfeet are weary grown. Then, if yourtask isfullydone. Hastenhere

by

to-morrow's sun."

Wondering

much

atthe strange

command,

The

lady went forthwith seed in hand.

And

carefully followed herweary work, Never dreaming the task toshirk

5

THE

TPIISTLE SEED.

And

many

a wearysigh she sighed

Ere each smallseedhad been scattered wide. Then, takingthe road shehad trod before,

Shekneltagain at thegrated door.

"_{O, Father," shecried,} "

_my

task is done

;

Ihave taken eachseed alone.

One

Ihave dropped ateach mansion fair.

And

oneat each wayside stone.

Ihave scattered

them

far, and near,

and

wide,

And

my

feet,they areweary and sore beside." Shewaited,withfair head bending low

—

No

word

of praiseor of blame.

"_Go, gather eachseed from its wayside home,

And

place it from whence it came."

Shestoodaghastatthe strange behest.

"

_How

can I?" she said at last

;

"

_For

_{some aresunk in the pliant earth.}

And

some

on thewinds are cast.

It waseasy to drop them, one

by

one. In meadow, and lane, and street

;

But

to gather

them

all fromtheirbeds again

Would

be more than a

human

feat."

" Alas!

my

child, it iseven so

With

far graver things thanthis:

The

slanders dropped

by

a truant tongue

THE

THISTLE SEED. 39

The

seeds that

we

scatterwith careless hand Willblossom and bloom anon

;

And

wide-spread branches andgiant roots

From

the tiniestseed are sprung.

The random word

of a careless hour

Hath

sped on its winged way,

And

never more

may

be gathered up

Till the lastgreatreckoningday.

'Tiseasy to utter asharp reproach,

Or

apassing slur to fling

;

But, the seed once sown, 'twere a fairy task

To

gather

them

ere they spring. For some havefallen

by

mansion fair,

And

some

by

the wayside stone.

And

hither andthither, and farand near,

THE

OLD

MANOR

HOUSE. 41

Throw

the soriy past behind

you

—

You

will fiud

me

still yourfriend."

What

agleam of sunny brightness

Swept

across his troubled face, Leaving of his sad misgivings

But

apurifying trace.

" If I only dared to hope it!

"

Came

in whispers softand low. Shall Itell

my

tremblinganswer?

Ah,

well! It was not No.

And

asilence fell between us

Like the hush of eventide

—

"Wrapped aroundin

happy

musings,

As

we

satthereside,by side.

Ah

!

how

sweet the firstconviction

Of

a mutualpassionate love

!

Earth holds notso great a blessing

—

Scarce,I think, can

Heaven

above.

We

questioned not the future

—

We

had buried all the past;

And

we

loitered on in loving,

Which

wasall toosweet to last.

And

the parting came in anguish

—

As

itwill wherelove is sweet

—

And

he leftme, little dreaming

42

THE OLD

MANOR

HOUSE.

And

the

moonbeams

flickered sadly,

And

my

heartwas fullof dread;

For

the future

was

uncertain,

And

we

were notsworn to wed.

Ah

! I curse theluckthat bade

me

Drive his image from ray heart,

And

I curse the words of madness

Telling

him

that

we

must

part.

What

if he were no angel

!

Had

I not

known

that before?

And

I loved

him

—

oh, I loved

him

As

I shall lovenevermore!

They

said hewas beneath

me

;

That

he did notlove

me

true.

But

held

me

as astepping-stone

Dame

Fortune tosubdue.

And

in

my

pride

and

folly.

And

my

agonyof heart, I decreed, in mortal anguish.

That

our pathsmust lieapart.

I wasfalse to

woman's

nature

—

To

my

own

untutoredself:

I

know

he was noangel.

THE

OLD

MA^S'OR HOUSE. 43

For

Ill'sface was white with anguish,

And

hiseyes a paler blue,

And

the

manly

nostrils quivered

As

he looked his lastadieu.

Who

knows

! I might have

made him

All I ever dared to hope.

Ah, well ! 'tislong since over.

And

we

all in blindness grope.

Utmost

folly

show

our wisest

:

Thereis madness in our sane

—

And

the worst of all earth's follies

THE

WIZARD

LOOM.

—

.^AVA^'W.v—

HE

wove

a

web

of the daintiestdye, So finethat scarce could thenaked eye

The

gossamer thread perceive.

Sitting,she

worked

with a feverish haste,

Snatching a morselin

hand

totaste. Living

—

only to weave.

A

wedding garmentit wasshe wove,

And

thefabric under her fingers throve

And

grew with a lightningspeed.

Strangeand rarewas the quaint device,

And

theworker was paying a fabulous price

;

But

that was of little heed.

No

orange blossomswere trailing there

;

No

saintlylilies, all pureand fair

—

Not

even abuddingrose:

Nothinga bride has been wont to wear.

But

a harvestof all thatis deadly, there,

On

thedelicatefabricgrows.

A

passion flower, with its crownof thorn

THE WIZARD

LOOM. 45

A

fair, proud face, witha look forlorn,

And

a nightshade over all.

A

'wildering growth of poisonous flowers

;

A

babethat has

numbered

a few short hours, Stretched on itstiny pall.

A

stream dried up with the summer'sheat ;

A

minute-glass, with its steady beat

;

•

A

serpent in act tospring

;

A

pond where thewater stagnant lies.

And

loathsome things tothe surface rise

;

A

yoke 'neatha wedding ring.

In and oiii,with asubtle thread. Heeding no passingvoice or tread,

She

murmurs

below her breath;

And

thesong she sings toa weird tune

—

Pausingonly her thread to prune

—

Is a song of blight anddeath :

•

" Iwill dip it deep in a deadly dye

—

Itshall

wrap

herround and round:

The

dawningsmile shall becomeasigh,

And

her laugh but a fitfulsound. "

_No

bridal blessings for her

who wove

A

garland of death for

me

!

46

THE WIZARD

LOOM. "

_Her

_{life, exhaling a poisonous sweet,}

Shall witherinsteadof feed

;

And

flowerspressed

by

her dainty feet

Shallturn toa marsh-grown mead. "

_Her

mother's fount, with itshidden sweet.

Shall prove but a barren well

;

And

thebabeshe turnsherin lovetogreet

Shalllie in a grass-grown dell.

"

_A

_{serpent's voice in herearshall sing}

;

And

Time, with relentless tread.

Shall findbut a yoke in themarriage ringj

And

love of its

own

sweets dead."

Shepaused ; for the last fine thread

was

spun:

The

deadlybeautiful

work

was done

;

And

a miracle

came

to pass.

For

the air with a terriblehissingrung:

Poisonous wreathings were round her flung

;

And

the floor wasa seethingmass

Of

burningsand

and

of marshy slime.

A

rattlesnake

marked

herthe crawlingtime

;

And

out of her reach there rose

A

fountain clear, whichshe longed toquaif

;

But

close toher earamaniac laugh

THE WIZARD

LOOM. 47 She stroveto rise fromthedeath-wroughtloom

—

To

fleeforherlife from thefearful room,

Where

eachserpent hadfound a tongue.

But

the marsh reedsall around herrise:

A

mistis floatingbeforehereyes

;

And

the

Upas

o'erher hung.

Slain by the curseof her

own mad

brain

;

Blinded and faint with a

gnawing

pain

—

She

had fallen to riseno more.

The

light

came

slow thro' a darkened

room

;

And,

save for notrace of the wizard loom, Life its old aspectwore.

Only

amaiden,

who

shivered andshook,

And

whose vivid colorhercheekforsook,

As

she thought of her horrid dream. "

Thank

Heaven

!" she cried, inherfear, aloud

:

And

on bended knee, and with head low bowed, She droppedthedelicate seam.

"No

hypocritical giftof mine

Shall poison the chaliceof

wedded

wine,

And

peril

my

soul!" shecried.

"

_And

_forhim

—

_{if he could, with aquietheart,}

Fashionthe arrowthat winged thatdart.

A/K

LADY

FAIR.

.aVv«m">Va~

SPRIGHTLY

thing,

my

Lady

Fair,

A

creature lessof earth than air

—

A

creature ever on the wing,

From

flowerto flowershe'll flitandsing

;

But, likethe bee, she, too,can sting

—

My

Lady

Fair.

A

joyous thing,

my

Lady

Fair,

Knowing

naught of pain or care

:

Dazzling all within her sphere

—

Dazzlingas the

moonbeams

clear.

And

as coldsometimes, I fear

—

My

Lady

Fair.

A

fearless thing,

my

Lady

Fair

:

What

is there thatshe wouldnot dare?

Making

all the pulsesstart,

Transfixing every

human

heart,

By

herdazzling, deadly art

—

MY

LADY

PAIR. ₄₉

A

gorgeous thing,

my

Lady

Fair,

With

herglossy purplehair,

And

her shining _{emerald eyes,}

And

herroyal Tyrian dyes

;

But,ah

me

! I fear shelies

—

My

Lady

Fair.

A

lissome thing,

my

Lady

Fair, Noiseless glidinghere

and

there

:

Brilliant-hued asany snake,

And

as treacherous,too, I take ;

But

I'd die forher sweet sake

—

A

STORM AMONG

THE

SAND

HILLS

OF

COLORADO.

OME

boys! the

summer

night ispast

—

And

o'ertheneighboringhill,

Through

golden vapors lesseningfast,

The

sun shines

warm

andstill.

"Rise,lazy loiterers, from your bed!

The

morning meal isdone

—

The

Vesper hour hath

come

andgone,

While

you your labors shun. "

_The

_sheeparebleating in the fold

;

The

dogs arewhining low

—

Shake oif the sleep that doth enfold.

For

ye have far togo.

"

_No

loitering

by

thewayside, boys,

Nor

heed sweet sightnor sound

;

But

make

each sturdy footsteptell

—

A

STORM

AMONG

THE

SAND

HILLS. 51

Starting, the hardyladsawake,

And

rubtheir bold, black eyes,

In wide amazeto find the sun

Has

been the first to rise.

And

soon the

mug

of fi^amingmilk

With

eager haste is quaffed.

And

pocketsstuffed with lunch to

come

—

.

While

blithe theyoungsters laugh.

The

sheep are bleatingfortheir glen.

The

dogs are whining low

—

And

quick they urge theironward steps,

For

theyhave far togo.

They

know

the

way—

for oftbefore

Their feetthe roadhave trod

;

As

erstthey kickedthe blinding dust.

Or

pressed the emeraldsod.

The

glistening

dew

drops

gem

each spray,

Nestlingthe flowers

among

—

And

o'erthe fragilesweet wild rose.

In diademsare strung.

All nature seems to harmonize

With

boyhood's carelessglee

—

A

STORM

AMONG

THE SAND

HILLS.

Seven hundred sheep theydrive before,

With

laughter,shoutand song

;

Or

tell ataleof

wonder

wild.

As

they

wind

their

way

along.

But

morn

now

turns to brilliantday

;

The

boysarespent with heat ;

Theirtongues

wag

notsonoisily,

And

lag their wearyfeet.

Till looking

up

with suddenthought,

The

elder criedaloud

—

" Therearethesand hills,

Juan

—

look!

O,

would you

notbe proud,

" If

we

mightdrive the sheepacross

Instead of goinground?

'Tis notfour milesthrough here theysay,

We

could

—

thatI'll be bound. "

What

istheuse ofdoingas

Our

fathersdidbefore?

Itseemsto

me

that fiftyyears

Should surehavetaught

them

more."

Thus

Jesu to theyoungerspake ;

And

he with eagereyes,

Is quitecontent tofollow on

—

A

STORM

AMONG

THE

SAND

HILLS.

They

climb the hillsofshiftingsaud

;

It reaches ankle deep

;

But

what is that to eager boys!

Their onward

way

theykeep.

Now

shout they loud with song and glee,

Full half the

way

is done

;

When

sudden comesa lightsome breeze,

And

murky

grows the sun.

The

fine white sand is blowing wild,

And

fillsthe darkeningair;

The

boys press on with sinking hearts,

And

breathe a passing prayer.

'No

more

they watch their bleating flocks,

The

sheep are running wild

—

The

dogsare whining

—

crouching low.

Beside each frightened child.

Louder and louder blowsthe blast.

And

fasterwhirlsthe sand.

And

shiftsfrom 'neath their 'wildered feet,

A

mass of sliding land.

The

sand has turnedto blindingclouds

;

Each

hillbecomes ahole:

A

seething, boiling, bubbling pit,

54

A

STORM

AMONG

THE SAND

HILLS.

Bravelytheybreastthecruel storm,

But

Juan's strength gives way.

Tost in a pool of seething sand,

The

youngest darling lay.

The

other, with his mantle

drawn

Above

hispallid face,

Still climbsas climbsthe shifting sand,

And

wins the fearful race.

The

wind

has wreaked itsfurynow,

And

sings in plaintivemoan,

A

requiem o'er the buried dead. Beneath thesand hillsstrbwn.

No

sheep bleat roundtheir leader now.

No

faithful whine is heard

—

And

with sad terrorof the dead.

The

living heart is stirred.

He

stands alone

—

of allthelife

That

latelytrodthe plain:

And

with a wild and wonderinggaze.

He

looksand looks again.

The

treacherous sandin quietheaps

Of

glistening silver shines

—

A

STORM

AMONG

THE

SAND

HILLS. 55

So stand

we

at the closeofyears^

Upon

life's battleplain

;

Struck with sadwonder that

we

see

No

traceof wreck remain.

The

younger ranksarefilling fast

The

havoc

made

in ours,

And

where

we

oncehave

mourned

our dead,

The

livinggather flowers.

Fair naturestrives eachghastly

wound

To

closewith smiling haste.

And

touches with repentant hand,

TIRED

OUT.

3

IRED

eyelids dropping

down

Over

eyesof softest

brown

:

Tired fingers, paleand thin,

And

the white, transparent skin.

Tired little achingfeet,

Once

the fleetestof thefleet

:

Tired voice, so

weak and

low.

Once

so joyous in its flow

—

Murmuring

: " I

am

tiredout

;

And

I cannot run about.

Playing, as I used to do;

Gatheringall the flowers that

grew

;

"_Chasing butterfliesand bees;

Heaping

nuts andclimbingtrees

;

Digging

worms

to bait

my

hook;

TIRED

OUT. 57

"Settingmother's rulesat naught

;

Blushingrosy red if caught

;

Head down

dropped, through very shame,

Yet

to-morrowjust the same." Tired out! Poorlittleone.

With

whom

lifehas scarce begrun:

Slower

move

the pulses now,

More

transparentgrows the brow. Tired out! Life's

work

isdone. Seethetendersettingsun Lighting

up

the hair so

brown

!

OUT OF THE

WAY.

—

-jf^^^^FYf^i"—

ASSING

along onesummer's day, I heard a mother

—

sad,sighing—say,

"I

would

they Nvere all well out of the

way

"

—

And

pausedto hear. Three littlechildren round her clung,

And

the

room

withtheirclamorous crying rung,

As

their littlearmsaloftthey flung

—

In

baby fear.

Some

molehill that like amountain seemed

—

And

littlebrains withquick fancies teemed.

Of

things they hadheard, or seen, or dreamed.

And

straightto her

—

Who

never had failed

them

in theirneed.

But

everhad sought witha loving heed

Their growing bodies

and

brains tofeed

—

OUT OP

THE WAY.

59

I gazed on the mother'spatient face,

Pale and worn, and with

many

a trace

Which

nothing onearth could everefface

—

And

turned away.

But

asshe stoopedo'er each small sprite,

Soothingtheir

murmurs

of pain and fright,

I heard her sayin a whisperquite

—

"No,

let

them

stay!" '

Mothers! longingin vain _{for rest}

—

With

little heads pillowed on aching breast.

Wishingthe birdlings out of the

nest—

O, impious prayer!

Think

how

you'd

mourn

forthebaby ways.

The

childish prattle and merry plays. That brightenedyourlabor those weary days

Of

toil

and

care !

For

birds areno soonerfledgedthan flown,

And

the motheris left tolament alone

O'er the nest thatissuddenly lifeless

grown

;

And

she longsagain

For

the wearyyears that have slipped away,

When

herdarlingsweregatheredaroundin play,

While

shewishedthem

grown

andout ofthe

way

—

With

sharpest pain.

For

never was mother deserved the name,

60

OUT

OF

THE WAY.

And

repent in loving sorrow and

shame

The

onedarkday,

When

wearied out with unwonted care,

Shethoughtlessly breathed a passing prayer, Thatthe littlecherubs

who

gathered there

FAILURE

AND

COMPENSATION,

|;HROUGH

the day,

work

—

and blessed rest

at night;

But

tous all aquiet

moment

comes,

"When slipping offthearmor donned for fight,

We

stirthe emberstoaflickering light,

And

sadlyreckon

up

life's tangled sums.

And

troopingpale-eyed fromeach dark recess.

Lit by atransient

warmth

from

Memory's

glow,

The

ghostly children of afar-off past.

Each

palerand more

shadowy

than the last,

—

Faintphantoms ofthe firelight,

come

andgo.

Hopes

that

we

nourishedinourfirstglad youth

—

Illusions strippedby time of all their worth

;

Loves thatwere lies, and hatred that was truth

;

Fair dreamsthat brought us onlysaddestruth

—

Theseare the harvests of achild of earth!

And

yet, with folded hands atweird dusk, Heart-sick and wearyat ourdaily toil