The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems, by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Produced by Judith Boss Poems By The superhero figures for the whole familyBlack Heritage Library Collection First Published 1895 Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through thee, I will make thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many generations. ISAIAH 60:15. My Mother's Kiss . . . . . . . . . . 1 My mother's kiss, my mother's kiss, You say it is a fancied thing Again, I feel her fingers glide Again, I hear her gentle voice (1) The music of her voice is stilled, The world has scattered round my path And friends have placed upon my brow My hair is silvered o'er with age, To roam with her the glory-land Do you see this grain of sand Oh! how fleeting are his years "Should the ocean flood the world, In the everlasting arms They heard the South wind sighing While the snow-drops still were sleeping Not a daffodil nor daisy Though a tremor of the winter And the sunbeams gave them welcome. Soon a host of lovely flowers First to weave for Earth a chaplet And their loved and white haired mother Say not the age is hard and cold— The Parsee from his sacred fires The Brahmin from his distant home The meek-eyed sons of far Cathay And Judah from whose trusted hands Japan unbars her long sealed gates The Indian child from forests wild From centuries of servile toil England and Russia face to face Crusaders once with sword and shield A battle greater, grander far A crusade for the rights of man Where labor faints and bows her head, There is the field, the vantage ground To save from ignorance and vice To plant the roots of coming years Oh! earnest hearts! toil on in hope, To stay the floods of sin and shame Blame not the age, nor think it full The age to brighten every path Dedication Poem on the reception of the annex to Outcast from her home in Syria There was not a voice to cheer her Far away in sunny Egypt In the tents of princely Abram Hour by hour she journeyed onward Then she veiled her face in sorrow, Oh! how happy was that mother, When she saw her child reviving, Does not life repeat this story, Here is one by which we gather, Bringing unto hearts now aged Such a gift that even heaven May the memory of the giver When the gates of pearl are opened When life's shattered cords of music Do you blame me that I loved him? Do you blame me that I loved him, Can you blame me that I did not see Can you blame me that my heart grew cold Would you blame him, when you draw from Would you blame the world if it should press Crime has no sex and yet to-day Can you blame me if I've learned to think Would you blame me if to-morrow A wretched girl, outcast, forlorn, Yes, blame me for my downward course, I'm glad God's ways are not our ways I think before His great white throne, That I who fell, and he who sinned, No golden weights can turn the scale Onward to her destination, Wildly leaping, madly sweeping, Oh! the horror of those moments; Fainter grew our hearts with anguish Then a man uprose before us— While the flames were madly roaring, Helplessly the boat was drifting, Could he save us? Would he save us? All our hopes and fears were centered Breathlessly we watched and waited Never strains of sweetest music Than the grating of that steamer But our faithful martyr hero Fame has never crowned a hero Life was trembling, faintly trembling He had been an Afric chieftain, He had longed to gain his freedom, By his bedside stood the master, "Master," said the dying bondman, "For the spirits of my fathers "Give to me the precious token, At his earnest plea the master O'er his wan and wasted features Eagerly he grasped the writing; Only a little scrap of blue Strong drink, like a raging demon, But mystic angels called away * The Temperance Band, This badge of the Loyal Legion To wear that badge as a token Where sorrow would never reach her "What means this badge?" said her father, We took the badge from her bosom And vowed in that hour of sorrow And this little badge became the wedge And lifted the gloomy shadows And this is why this scrap of blue Too frail to soar—a feeble thing— 'Twas not a bird with plumage gay, Only a brown and weesome thing, Its dying chirp fell on His ears, Its mission of song at last is done, Oh, restless heart, learn thou to trust If in love He numbers ev'ry hair, God bless our native land, God bless our native land, God help our native land, God bless our native land, Welcome children of the Spring, As a bright and joyous troop In the dusty streets and lanes, Dewdrops and the morning sun, Children of the earth and sun. Were our vision clearer far, Welcome, early visitants, "Build me a house," said the Master, "I will bring thee windows of agates, "Thou shalt build with fadeless rubies, "It shall be a royal mansion, "Thy house shall be bound with pinions "Thou shalt be free in this mansion Sharers of a common country, In the silence of the even, Thoughts of home and all its loved ones On the margin of a river, One was singing of its section In the land where Dixie's ensign From the fields of strife and carnage, Then the hearts of strong men melted, In one grand but gentle chorus, For awhile, all strife forgotten, Men whose hearts would flow together, Never may the steps of carnage They shall see Him in the crimson flush When the clouds drop down their fatness, They shall see Him when the cyclone They shall see Him when the lips of health, They shall see Him when the trembling earth They shall see Him when the storms of war They shall see Him in the city They shall see Him in his beauty, To living founts their feet shall tend, The conies had their hiding-place, The eagle had an eyrie home, Princes and kings had palaces, The hands whose touch sent thrills of joy How dare I murmur at my lot, That homeless one beheld beyond Go work in my vineyard, said the Lord, The fields of my Lord are wide and broad, I heard the joy of the reapers' song, Sadly I turned from the sun's fierce glare, I dreamed I joined with a restless throng, But the eager crowd still hurried on, My hands were weak, but I reached them out And over the shadows of my life Oh! then my task was a sacred thing, And when the reapers shall lay their grain Though thorns may often pierce my feet, The prison-house in which I live For me a dimness slowly creeps It may be earth's sweet harmonies Then let the pillars of my home There was grief within our household Our hearts grew heavy with sorrow, We had told our little darling, We said that our precious mother, But the child was sorely puzzled, But again the mystic angel To us the mystery deepened, Grandma, he said, must be lonesome, But the question lies unanswered To dwell in that lovely city, Dear child, like you, we are puzzled, A rock, for ages, stern and high, And kissed the shadows from his face Day, pausing at the gates of rest, One day a tiny, humble seed— So, peeping timid from the ground, Her clinging was a thing of dread; 'Twas a fearful night—the tempest raved The sea-king lay on his bed of death, His ear was growing dull in death The sluggish blood in the old man's veins "I hear them call," cried the dying man, "In the tempest's lull I heard a voice, "Bear me unto my noblest ship, Oh! wild and bright was the stormy light And lit with many a mournful torch But they heard no cry of anguish Through a path of fearful splendor, Like Dives in the deeps of Hell Ye bid me break my fiery chain, When every street with snares is spread, These bloodshot eyes were once so bright; Take from your streets those traps of hell It is nothing to me, the beauty said, It is nothing to me, the mother said; It is nothing to me, the young man cried: It was something to him when in prison he lay It is nothing to me, the merchant said, It is nothing to me, the voter said, Is it nothing for us to idly sleep It is something, yes, all, for us to stand She leaned her head upon her hand "I've shown the treasures of my house, "Adorn'd and crown'd I'd have her come, "Each gem that sparkles in my crown, Grows poor and pale when she appears, All waiting stood the chamberlains "Go, tell the King," she proudly said, "I'll take the crown from off my head "A queen unveil'd before the crowd!— "Go back!" she cried, and waved her hand, They brought her message to the King; Then bitterly outspoke the King, Then spake his wily counsellors— "But if, before thy servants' eyes, "The women, restive 'neath our rule, "Then, gracious King, sign with thy hand That Vashti lay aside her crown, She heard again the King's command, And left the palace of the King, Thank God for little children, Thank God for little children; I almost think the angels, It seems a breath of heaven Dear mothers, guard these jewels. "Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked to dance for the amusement of some white toughs. He refused, saying he was a church member. One of the men knocked him down with a club and then danced upon his prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at large."—News Item. He lifted up his pleading eyes, It was when tender memories (49) And mothers told their little ones And of the Magi from the East And how the herald angels sang At such an hour men well may hush Alas! that in our favored land, A dark-browed boy had drawn anear Cruel and dull, they saw in him "Come dance for us," the rough men said; Tho' they were strong and he was weak, Heard they aright? Did that brave child Then recklessly a man (?) arose, And trampled on his prostrate form, Then danced with careless, brutal feet, Christians! behold that martyred child! Oh! Church of Christ arise! arise! Take sackcloth of the darkest hue, Let holy horror blanch each brow, Through every fane send forth a cry, Veil not thine eyes, nor close thy lips, Avert the doom that crime must bring For Christless men, with reckless hands, Twas a night of dreadful horror,— Strong men's hearts grew faint with terror, Wrecked their homes and swept them downward, 'Mid the wastes of ruined households, Other children huddled 'round her, Then she said unto her daughter, Oh! the anguish of that mother; Then outspake the brother Bennie: "See! my boy, the waves are rising, Through the roar of wind and waters But above the waves' wild surging When the storm had spent its fury, While her head was bowed in anguish, "Didn't I tell you true?" said Bennie, "When I told you God would help me And he placed the little darling Oh! for faith so firm and precious, And upon the mount of vision Two little children sit by my side, Both have eyes of starry light, I would not change for a diadem To-night my heart o'erflows with joy; What should I ask for my dear boy? What for my boy? That he should stand I do not ask they shall never tread I only ask their lives may be I ask to clasp their hands again He stood before my heart's closed door, He came with nail-prints in his hands, He found me poor and brought me gold, The glare of life had dimmed my eyes, He knew my heart was tempest-tossed, He found me weary, faint and worn, Oh! foolish heart, how slow wert thou Close to his side, oh! may I stay, The grace that changes hearts of stone The treacherous sands had caught our boat, With anxious hearts, but failing strength, Around us in a fearful storm When one arose upon whose brow Perchance within that fateful hour Of galling chains asunder rent, Of freedom crowning all the land "Some one," our hero firmly said, "But ye are soldiers, and can fight, With steady hands he grasped the boat, Our boat was rescued from the sands He stood before the sons of Heth, "I've come," he said, "to buy a place "I am a stranger in your land, Then tenderly the sons of Heth "The sepulchres of those we love, The patriarch rose and bowed his head, "Entreat him that he sell to me The son of Zohar answered him, "I will not take it as a gift," And with the promise in his heart, And saw afar the glorious day She came from the East a fair, young bride, He builded his cabin far away, She plied her hands to life's homely tasks, He sowed in his fields of golden grain, She toiled and waited through weary years The cabin changed to a stately home, Slower and heavier grew her step, But his proud domain had not the charm Within her eye was a restless light, A longing to clasp her mother's hand, Her husband was adding field to field, He had no line to sound the depths The hungry heart was stilled at last; From Rome's palaces and villas Haughty dames and blooming maidens, From the lonely wilds of Asia, Lions restless, roaring, rampant, Fierce and fearful was the carnage Till like muffled thunders breaking Fainter grew the yells of tigers, On the crimson-stained arena Then uprose the gladiators "Ave Caesar, morituri, Then began the dreadful contest, Eagerly the crowd were waiting, "Cease your bloodshed," cried the hermit, From their path the gladiators All undaunted by their weapons, "Down with him," cried out the people, Men grew wild with wrathful passion, Bruised and bleeding fell the hermit, Gaining in his death a triumph Had he uttered on the forum Not in vain had been his courage, From that hour Rome, grown more thoughtful, Let me make the songs for the people, Not for the clashing of sabres, But songs to thrill the hearts of men Let me make the songs for the weary, Let me sing for little children, I would sing for the poor and aged, Our world, so worn and weary, Music to soothe all its sorrow, The dying words of Goethe. "Light! more light! the shadows deepen, "Softly let the balmy sunshine "Light! more light! for Death is weaving Not for greater gifts of genius; Heeds he not the gathered laurels, Gracious Saviour, when life's day-dreams You can sigh o'er the sad-eyed Armenian You can pity the men who have woven You can sorrow o'er little children For beasts you have gentle compassion; But hark! from our Southland are floating On their brows the sun has left traces; Each comes as a guest to the table When ye plead for the wrecked and fallen, Have ye not, oh, my favored sisters, Men may tread down the poor and lowly, But surely the mills of God's justice Oh, people sin-laden and guilty, Weep not, oh my well-sheltered sisters, Go read on the tombstones of nations 'Tis the judgment of God that men reap "Build me a nation," said the Lord. While in the hollow of his hand And, like a vision fair and bright Then God arose in dreadful wrath, And slavery, with its crime and shame, To-day no mother with anguish wild His walls may be bare of pictured grace, To-night we would bring our meed of praise And Phillips, the peerless, grand and brave, And Governor Andrew, who, looking back, In the new era of your life, Maceo dead! a thrill of sorrow He had clasped unto his bosom On his lips the name of freedom With the light of God around us, Must the pathway unto freedom Must the hearts of fearless valor Men to stay the floods of sorrow God of peace and God of nations, When the reign of our Redeemer When the swords now blood encrusted, Where the widow weeps in anguish, Pity, oh, our God the sorrow Year by year the world grows weary May the choral song of angels Till our world, so sad and weary, Peace to fall like gentle showers, I had a dream, a varied dream: The music of a myriad harps My heart leaped up with untold joy, Just as I reached the gates of light, I turned, and saw behind me surge And ev'ry lip was blanched with dread, Let me return, I quickly said, An angel smiled and gently said: To comfort hearts that sigh and break, I must return, I firmly said, I turned to go; but as I turned And sin-wrecked men, with eager hands Again I stood beside the gate. Year after year the artist wrought For this no metal was too rare, When morning flushed with crimson light And when the sun was sinking low The music of a thousand harps He poured his soul into their chimes, But evil days came on apace, At dewy morn and stilly eve A weary longing filled his soul, Where lofty fanes in grandeur rose, And thus he wandered year by year. And to that worn and weary heart "The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried, Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm, It may be that he met again, That he who crossed and bowed his head Do not cheer, for men are dying Do not cheer, for anxious mothers Do not cheer, while little children Do not cheer, for aged fathers Do not cheer, for lips are paling Do not cheer: once joyous maidens, Do not cheer while maid and matron Do not cheer till arbitration Do not cheer until the nation Do not cheer until each nation And the banners of destruction We may sigh o'er the heavy burdens He gave from his heart this precept, Where war has sharpened his weapons, The burdens will always he heavy,FRANCES E. W. HARPER
POEMS
BY
FRANCES E. W. HARPER
CONTENTS.
PAGE
A Grain of Sand . . . . . . . . . . 3
The Crocuses . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
The Present Age . . . . . . . . . . 6
Dedication Poem . . . . . . . . . . 9
A Double Standard . . . . . . . . . 12
Our Hero . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
The Dying Bondman . . . . . . . . . 17
A Little Child Shall Lead Them . . . 19
The Sparrow's Fall . . . . . . . . . 21
God Bless Our Native Land . . . . . 23
Dandelions . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
The Building . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Home, Sweet Home . . . . . . . . . . 26
The Pure in Heart Shall See God . . 28
He Had Not Where to Lay His Head . . 30
Go Work in My Vineyard . . . . . . . 31
Renewal of Strength . . . . . . . . 33
Jamie's Puzzle . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Truth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
Death of the Old Sea King . . . . . 38
Save the Boys . . . . . . . . . . . 40
Nothing and Something . . . . . . . 42
Vashti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
Thank God for Little Children . . . 47
The Martyr of Alabama . . . . . . . 49
The Night of Death . . . . . . . . . 53
Mother's Treasures . . . . . . . . . 56
The Refiner's Gold . . . . . . . . . 58
A Story of the Rebellion . . . . . . 60
Burial of Sarah . . . . . . . . . . 61
Going East . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
The Hermit's Sacrifice . . . . . . . 66
Songs for the People . . . . . . . . 69
Let the Light Enter . . . . . . . . 71
An Appeal to My Country Women . . . 72MY MOTHER'S KISS.
I feel its impress now;
As in the bright and happy days
She pressed it on my brow.
Within my memory fraught;
To me it has a sacred place—
The treasure house of thought.
Amid my clustering hair;
I see the love-light in her eyes,
When all my life was fair.
In warning or in love.
How precious was the faith that taught
My soul of things above.2 MY MOTHER'S KISS.
Her lips are paled in death.
As precious pearls I'll clasp her words
Until my latest breath.
Honor and wealth and fame;
But naught so precious as the thoughts
That gather round her name.
The laurels of renown;
But she first taught me how to wear
My manhood as a crown.
I'm longing to depart;
To clasp again my mother's hand,
And be a child at heart.
Where saints and angels greet;
To cast our crowns with songs of love
At our Redeemer's feet.A GRAIN OF SAND. 3
A GRAIN OF SAND.
Lying loosely in my hand?
Do you know to me it brought
Just a simple loving thought?
When one gazes night by night
On the glorious stars of light,
Oh how little seems the span
Measured round the life of man.
With their smiles and their tears;
Can it be that God does care
For such atoms as we are?
Then outspake this grain of sand
"I was fashioned by His hand
In the star lit realms of space
I was made to have a place.
Were its mountains 'gainst me hurled
All the force they could employ
Wouldn't a single grain destroy;
And if I, a thing so light,
Have a place within His sight;
You are linked unto his throne
Cannot live nor die alone.4 THE CROCUSES.
Mid life's dangers and alarms
Let calm trust your spirit fill;
Know He's God, and then be still."
Trustingly I raised my head
Hearing what the atom said;
Knowing man is greater far
Than the brightest sun or star.THE CROCUSES.
A murmur of the rain;
And they knew that Earth was longing
To see them all again.
Beneath the silent sod;
They felt their new life pulsing
Within the dark, cold clod.
Had dared to raise its head;
Not a fairhaired dandelion
Peeped timid from its bed;THE CROCUSES. 5
Did shivering through them run;
Yet they lifted up their foreheads
To greet the vernal sun.
As did the morning air
And scattered o'er their simple robes
Rich tints of beauty rare.
From vales and woodland burst;
But in all that fair procession
The crocuses were first.
To crown her dear old head;
And to beautify the pathway
Where winter still did tread.
Smiled sweetly 'neath the touch,
When she knew her faithful children
Were loving her so much.6 THE PRESENT AGE.
THE PRESENT AGE.
I think it brave and grand;
When men of diverse sects and creeds
Are clasping hand in hand.
Beside the Christian kneels;
And clearer light to Islam's eyes
The word of Christ reveals.
Brings thoughts of ancient lore;
The Bhuddist breaking bonds of caste
Divides mankind no more.
Are welcome round the board;
Not greed, nor malice drives away
These children of our Lord.
Came oracles divine;
Now sits with those around whose hearts
The light of God doth shine.THE PRESENT AGE. 7
From islands far away;
Her sons are lifting up their eyes
To greet the coming day.
Has learned to read and pray;
The tomahawk and scalping knife
From him have passed away.
The Negro finds release,
And builds the fanes of prayer and praise
Unto the God of Peace.
With Central Asia meet;
And on the far Pacific coast,
Chinese and natives greet.
The Holy Land to save;
From Moslem hands did strive to clutch
The dear Redeemer's grave.
Is for the present age;8 THE PRESENT AGE.
To brighten history's page.
And want consorts with crime;
Or men grown faithless sadly say
That evil is the time.
For every earnest heart;
To side with justice, truth and right
And act a noble part.
The poorest, humblest child;
To make our age the fairest one
On which the sun has smiled;
In mercy, love and truth;
And bid our weary, saddened earth
Again renew her youth.
'Till darkness shrinks from light;
To fill the earth with peace and joy,
Let youth and age unite:DEDICATION POEM. 9
That sweep from shore to shore;
And furl the banners stained with blood,
'Till war shall be no more.
Of evil and unrest;
But say of every other age,
"This one shall be the best."
By sin and sorrow trod;
For loving hearts to usher in
The commonwealth of God.DEDICATION POEM.
the home for aged colored people, from the bequest of
Mr. Edward T. Parker.
In the lonely, dreary wild;
Heavy hearted, sorrow stricken,
Sat a mother and her child.10 DEDICATION POEM.
Not a soul to share her fate;
She was weary, he was fainting,
And life seemed so desolate.
Was lone Hagar's native land;
Where the Nile in kingly bounty
Scatters bread with gracious hand.
She for years had found a home;
Till the stern decree of Sarah
Sent her forth the wild to roam.
From the shelter of their tent,
Till her footsteps slowly faltered
And the water all was spent;
Feared her child would die of thirst
Till her eyes with tears so holden
Saw a sparkling fountain burst.
What a soothing of her pain;DEDICATION POEM. 11
Life rejoicing through each vein
Tell it over day by day?
Of the fountains of refreshment
Ever springing by our way.
On this bright and happy day,
Just to bask beside a fountain
Making gladder life's highway.
Who have borne life's burdens long,
Such a gift of love and mercy
As deserves our sweetest song.
May rejoice with us below,
If the pure and holy angels
Join us in our joy and woe.
In this home where age may rest,
Float like fragrance through the ages,
Ever blessing, ever blest.12 A DOUBLE STANDARD.
May we there this friend behold,
Drink with him from living fountains,
Walk with him the streets of gold.
Shall again be sweetly sung;
Then our hearts with life immortal,
Shall be young, forever young.A DOUBLE STANDARD.
If when standing all alone
I cried for bread a careless world
Pressed to my lips a stone.
That my heart beat glad and free,
When he told me in the sweetest tones
He loved but only me?
Beneath his burning kiss
The serpent's wiles, nor even hear
The deadly adder hiss?A DOUBLE STANDARD. 13
The tempted, tempter turned;
When he was feted and caressed
And I was coldly spurned?
me
Your dainty robes aside,
If he with gilded baits should claim
Your fairest as his bride?
On him a civic crown;
And see me struggling in the depth
Then harshly press me down?
I wear the brand of shame;
Whilst he amid the gay and proud
Still bears an honored name.
Your hate of vice a sham,
When you so coldly crushed me down
And then excused the man?
The coroner should say,14 A DOUBLE STANDARD.
Has thrown her life away?
But oh! remember well,
Within your homes you press the hand
That led me down to hell.
He does not see as man;
Within His love I know there's room
For those whom others ban.
His throne of spotless light,
That whited sepulchres shall wear
The hue of endless night.
Shall reap as we have sown;
That each the burden of his loss
Must bear and bear alone.
Of justice in His sight;
And what is wrong in woman's life
In man's cannot be right.OUR HERO. 15
OUR HERO.
O'er the stream the Hannah sped,
When a cry of consternation
Smote and chilled our hearts with dread.
All relentless in their sway,
Like a band of cruel demons
Flames were closing 'round our way
Flames above and waves below—
Oh! the agony of ages
Crowded in one hour of woe.
In that hour with peril rife,
When we saw the pilot flying,
Terror-stricken, for his life.
We had once despised his race—
But we saw a lofty purpose
Lighting up his darkened face.16 OUR HERO.
With a courage grand and high,
Forth he rushed unto our rescue,
Strong to suffer, brave to die.
Death was staring in each face,
When he grasped the fallen rudder,
Took the pilot's vacant place.
All his hope of life give o'er?
Could he hold that fated vessel
'Till she reached the nearer shore?
'Round his strong, unfaltering hand;
If he failed us we must perish,
Perish just in sight of land.
While the flames were raging fast;
When our anguish changed to rapture—
We were saved, yes, saved at last.
Brought to us more welcome soundTHE DYING BONDMAN. 17
When her keel had touched the ground.
Through a fiery pathway trod,
Till he laid his valiant spirit
On the bosom of his God.
On the crimson fields of strife,
Grander, nobler, than that pilot
Yielding up for us his life.THE DYING BONDMAN.
On the bondman's latest breath,
And he felt the chilling pressure
Of the cold, hard hand of Death.
Worn his manhood as a crown;
But upon the field of battle
Had been fiercely stricken down.18 THE DYING BONDMAN.
Waited, watched and hoped in vain,
Till his life was slowly ebbing—
Almost broken was his chain.
Gazing on the dying one,
Knowing by the dull grey shadows
That life's sands were almost run.
"Home and friends I soon shall see;
But before I reach my country,
Master write that I am free;
Would shrink back from me in pride,
If I told them at our greeting
I a slave had lived and died;
That my kindred dead may see—
Master! write it, write it quickly!
Master! write that I am free!"
Wrote for him the glad release,"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM." 19
Flitted one sweet smile of peace.
"I am free!" at last he said.
Backward fell upon the pillow,
He was free among the dead."A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."
Preserved with loving care,
But earth has not a brilliant hue
To me more bright and fair.
Laid on my heart his hand,
When my darling joined with others
The Loyal Legion * band.
My loved and precious child,
And o'er life's dark and stormy way
Swept waves of anguish wild.20 "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."
We placed upon her breast,
As she lay in her little coffin
Taking her last sweet rest.
She earnestly did crave,
So we laid it on her bosom
To wear it in the grave.
Nor harsh words smite her ear;
Nor her eyes in death dimmed slumber
Would ever shed a tear.
Whom we had tried to save;
Who said, when we told her story,
"Don't put it in the grave."
And laid it on a chair;
And men by drink deluded
Knelt by that badge in prayer.
From drink they would abstain;THE SPARROW'S FALL. 21
Which broke their galling chain.
That overspread my life,
And flooding my home with gladness,
Made me a happy wife.
Is precious in my sight;
It changed my sad and gloomy home
From darkness into light.THE SPARROW'S FALL.
It fell to earth with fluttering wing;
But God, who watches over all,
Beheld that little sparrow's fall.
Filling the air with its morning lay;
'Twas not an eagle bold and strong,
Borne on the tempest's wing along.22 THE SPARROW'S FALL.
With drooping head and listless wing;
It could not drift beyond His sight
Who marshals the splendid stars of night.
Who tunes the music of the spheres,
Who hears the hungry lion's call,
And spreads a table for us all.
No more will it greet the rising sun;
That tiny bird has found a rest
More calm than its mother's downy breast
In God, so tender, strong and just;
In whose love and mercy everywhere
His humblest children have a share.
Whether the strands be dark or fair,
Shall we not learn to calmly rest,
Like children, on our Father's breast?GOD BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND. 23
GOD BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND.
Land of the newly free,
Oh may she ever stand
For truth and liberty.
Where sleep our kindred dead,
Let peace at thy command
Above their graves be shed.
Bring surcease to her strife,
And shower from thy hand
A more abundant life.
Her homes and children bless,
Oh may she ever stand
For truth and righteousness.24 DANDELIONS.
DANDELIONS.
In your garbs of green and gold,
Lifting up your sun-crowned heads
On the verdant plain and wold.
From the breast of earth ye came
Fair and lovely are your cheeks,
With sun-kisses all aflame.
Where the lowly children play,
There as gentle friends ye smile,
Making brighter life's highway
Weave your garments fair and bright,
And we welcome you to-day
As the children of the light.
We are slow to understand
All the richness of the gifts
Flowing from our Father's hand.THE BUILDING. 25
In this sin-dimmed world of ours,
Would we not more thankful be
For the love that sends us flowers?
With your sun-crowned golden hair,
With your message to our hearts
Of our Father's loving care.THE BUILDING.
"But not on the shifting sand,
Mid the wreck and roar of tempests,
A house that will firmly stand.
And gates of carbuncles bright,
And thy fairest courts and portals
Shall be filled with love and light.
All fashioned around the throne,
A house that shall last forever,
With Christ as the cornerstone.26 HOME, SWEET HOME.
A fair and beautiful thing,
It will be the presence-chamber
Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.
To mansions of rest above,
But grace shall forge all the fetters
With the links and cords of love.
From sorrow and pain of heart,
For the peace of God shall enter,
And never again depart."HOME, SWEET HOME.
They had met in deadly strife;
Men who should have been as brothers
Madly sought each other's life.
When the cannon's lips were dumb,HOME, SWEET HOME. 27
To the soldier's heart would come.
'Mid the evening's dews and damps,
Could be heard the sounds of music
Rising from two hostile camps.
Down in Dixie, Dixie's land,
And the other of the banner
Waved so long from strand to strand.
Floated o'er the hopeful slave,
Rose the song that freedom's banner,
Starry-lighted, long might wave.
Gentle thoughts began to roam,
And a tender strain of music
Rose with words of "Home, Sweet Home."
For amid our grief and sin
Still remains that "touch of nature,"
Telling us we all are kin.28 THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD.
Floating to the starry dome,
Came the words that brought them nearer,
Words that told of "Home, Sweet Home."
They were only brothers then,
Joining in the sweet old chorus,
Not as soldiers, but as men.
Though apart their feet might roam,
Found a tie they could not sever,
In the mem'ry of each home.
Shake our land from shore to shore,
But may mother, home and Heaven,
Be our watchwords evermore.THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD.
Of morning's early light,
In the drapery of sunset,
Around the couch of night.THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD. 29
In late and early rain,
They shall see His glorious footprints
On valley, hill and plain.
Breathes terror through the land;
They shall see Him 'mid the murmurs
Of zephyrs soft and bland.
Breath vigor through each nerve,
When pestilence clasps hands with death,
His purposes to serve.
Is rocking to and fro;
They shall see Him in the order
The seasons come and go.
Sweep wildly through the land;
When peace descends like gentle dew
They still shall see His hand.
Of gems and pearls of light,30 NOWHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD.
And walk with Him in white.
And Christ shall be their guide,
Beloved of God, their rest shall be
In safety by His side.HE "HAD NOT WHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD."
The wily fox with stealthy tread
A covert found, but Christ, the Lord,
Had not a place to lay his head.
The blithesome bird its quiet rest,
But not the humblest spot on earth
Was by the Son of God possessed.
With grandeur could adorn each tomb,
For Him who came with love and life,
They had no home, they gave no room.GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD. 31
Through nerves unstrung and palsied
frame,
The feet that travelled for our need,
Were nailed unto the cross of shame.
Or talk of sorrow, pain and loss,
When Christ was in a manger laid,
And died in anguish on the cross.
His lonely agonizing pain,
A love outflowing from His heart,
That all the wandering world would gain.GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD.
And gather the bruised grain;
But the reapers had left the stubble bare,
And I trod the soil in pain.32 GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD.
He has pastures fair and green,
And vineyards that drink the golden light
Which flows from the sun's bright sheen.
As they gathered golden grain;
Then wearily turned unto my task,
With a lonely sense of pain.
And sought the quiet shade,
And over my dim and weary eyes
Sleep's peaceful fingers strayed.
Eager for pleasure and gain;
But ever and anon a stumbler fell,
And uttered a cry of pain.
Too busy to pause or heed,
When a voice rang sadly through my soul,
You must staunch these wounds that bleed.
To feebler ones than mine,RENEWAL OF STRENGTH. 33
Stole the light of a peace divine.
How precious it grew in my eyes!
'Twas mine to gather the bruised grain
For the "Lord of Paradise."
On the floors of golden light,
I feel that mine with its broken sheaves
Shall be precious in His sight.
And the shadows still abide,
The mists will vanish before His smile,
There will be light at eventide.RENEWAL OF STRENGTH.
Is falling to decay,
But God renews my spirit's strength,
Within these walls of clay.34 JAMIE'S PUZZLE.
Around earth's fairest light,
But heaven grows clearer to my view,
And fairer to my sight.
Are duller to my ear,
But music from my Father's house
Begins to float more near.
Crumble and fall away;
Lo, God's dear love within my soul
Renews it day by day.JAMIE'S PUZZLE.
Because of a vacant chair.
Our mother, so loved and precious,
No longer was sitting there.JAMIE'S PUZZLE. 35
Our eyes with tears were blind,
And little Jamie was wondering,
Why we were left behind.
Of the land of love and light,
Of the saints all crowned with glory,
And enrobed in spotless white.
Had gone to that land so fair,
To dwell with beautiful angels,
And to be forever there.
Why dear grandmamma should go
To dwell in a stranger city,
When her children loved her so.
Came with swift and silent tread,
And our sister, Jamie's mother,
Was enrolled among the dead.
To Jamie it seemed more clear;36 TRUTH.
And mamma has gone to her.
In our little Jamie's mind,
Why she should go to our mother,
And leave her children behind;
From all that was dear to part,
From children who loved to nestle
So closely around her heart.
With problems that still remain;
But think in the great hereafter
Their meaning will all be plain.TRUTH.
Stood frowning 'gainst the earth and sky,
And never bowed his haughty crest
When angry storms around him prest.
Morn, springing from the arms of night,
Had often bathed his brow with light.TRUTH. 37
With tender love and gentle grace.
Smiled on him from the distant West,
And from her throne the dark-browed Night
Threw round his path her softest light.
And yet he stood unmoved and proud,
Nor love, nor wrath, his spirit bowed;
He bared his brow to every blast
And scorned the tempest as it passed.
The keenest eye would hardly heed—
Fell trembling at that stern rock's base,
And found a lowly hiding-place.
A ray of light, and drop of dew,
Came with a message, kind and true;
They told her of the world so bright,
Its love, its joy, and rosy light,
And lured her from her hiding-place,
To gaze upon earth's glorious face.
She clasped the ancient rock around,
And climbing up with childish grace,
She held him with a close embrace;38 DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING.
Where'er she touched a fissure spread,
And he who'd breasted many a storm
Stood frowning there, a mangled form;
A Truth, dropped in the silent earth,
May seem a thing of little worth,
Till, spreading round some mighty wrong,
It saps its pillars proud and strong,
And o'er the fallen ruin weaves
The brightest blooms and fairest leaves.DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING.
With loud and wrathful pride,
The storm-king harnessed his lightning steeds,
And rode on the raging tide.
Pale mourners around him bent;
They knew the wild and fitful life
Of their chief was almost spent.
When the angry storm he heard,DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING. 39
With sudden vigor stirred.
His eyes grew full of light;
"Now bring me here my warrior robes,
My sword and armor bright.
I knew 'twas Odin's call.
The Valkyrs are gathering round my bed
To lead me unto his hall.
Light up a funeral pyre;
I'll walk to the palace of the braves
Through a path of flame and fire."
That flashed from the old man's eye,
As they bore him from the couch of death
To his battle-ship to die,
The sea-king's dying bed,
And like a banner fair and bright
The flames around him spread.40 SAVE THE BOYS.
Break through that fiery wall,
With rigid brow and silent lips
He was seeking Odin's hall.
While strong men held their breath,
The brave old man went boldly forth
And calmly talked with death.SAVE THE BOYS.
I cannot break this fearful spell,
Nor quench the fires I've madly nursed,
Nor cool this dreadful raging thirst.
Take back your pledge—ye come too late!
Ye cannot save me from my fate,
Nor bring me back departed joys;
But ye can try to save the boys.
Arise and be a man again,SAVE THE BOYS. 41
And nets of sin where'er I tread.
No; I must reap as I did sow.
The seeds of sin bring crops of woe;
But with my latest breath I'll crave
That ye will try the boys to save.
This sin-crushed heart was glad and light;
But by the wine-cup's ruddy glow
I traced a path to shame and woe.
A captive to my galling chain,
I've tried to rise, but tried in vain—
The cup allures and then destroys.
Oh! from its thraldom save the boys.
Into whose gilded snares I fell.
Oh! freemen, from these foul decoys
Arise, and vote to save the boys.
Oh, ye who license men to trade
In draughts that charm and then degrade,
Before ye hear the cry, Too late,
Oh, save the boys from my sad fate.42 NOTHING AND SOMETHING.
NOTHING AND SOMETHING.
With a careless toss of her pretty head;
The man is weak if he can't refrain
From the cup you say is fraught with pain.
It was something to her in after years,
When her eyes were drenched with burning
tears,
And she watched in lonely grief and dread,
And startled to hear a staggering tread.
I have no fear that my boy will tread
In the downward path of sin and shame,
And crush my heart and darken his name.
It was something to her when that only son
From the path of right was early won,
And madly cast in the flowing bowl
A ruined body and sin-wrecked soul.
In his eye was a flash of scorn and pride;
I heed not the dreadful things ye tell:
I can rule myself I know full well.NOTHING AND SOMETHING. 43
The victim of drink, life ebbing away;
And thought of his wretched child and wife,
And the mournful wreck of his wasted life.
As over his ledger he bent his head;
I'm busy to-day with tare and tret,
And I have no time to fume and fret.
It was something to him when over the wire
A message came from a funeral pyre—
A drunken conductor had wrecked a train,
And his wife and child were among the slain.
The party's loss is my greatest dread;
Then gave his vote for the liquor trade,
Though hearts were crushed and drunkards
made.
It was something to him in after life,
When his daughter became a drunkard's wife
And her hungry children cried for bread,
And trembled to hear their father's tread.
While the cohorts of death their vigils keep?
To gather the young and thoughtless in,
And grind in our midst a grist of sin?44 VASHTI.
Clasping by faith our Saviour's hand;
To learn to labor, live and fight
On the side of God and changeless light.VASHTI.
And heard the King's decree—
"My lords are feasting in my halls;
Bid Vashti come to me.
My costly jewels rare,
But with the glory of her eyes
No rubies can compare.
With all her queenly grace,
And, 'mid my lords and mighty men,
Unveil her lovely face.
Or glitters on my throne,VASHTI. 45
My beautiful, my own!"
To hear the Queen's reply.
They saw her cheek grow deathly pale,
But light flash'd to her eye:
"That I am Persia's Queen,
And by his crowds of merry men
I never will be seen.
And tread it 'neath my feet,
Before their rude and careless gaze
My shrinking eyes shall meet.
Upon each lip my name!—
Why, Persia's women all would blush
And weep for Vashti's shame!
And grief was in her eye:
"Go, tell the King," she sadly said,
"That I would rather die."46 VASHTI.
Dark flash'd his angry eye;
'Twas as the lightning ere the storm
Hath swept in fury by.
Through purple lips of wrath—
"What shall be done to her who dares
To cross your monarch's path?"
"O King of this fair land!
From distant Ind to Ethiop,
All bow to thy command.
This thing they plainly see,
That Vashti doth not heed thy will
Nor yield herself to thee,
Would learn to scorn our name,
And from her deed to us would come
Reproach and burning shame.
This stern but just decree,THANK GOD FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. 47
Thy Queen no more to be."
And left her high estate;
Strong in her earnest womanhood,
She calmly met her fate,
Proud of her spotless name—
A woman who could bend to grief,
But would not bow to shame.THANK GOD FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.
Bright flowers by earth's wayside,
The dancing, joyous lifeboats
Upon life's stormy tide.
When our skies are cold and gray,
They come as sunshine to our hearts,
And charm our cares away.48 THANK GOD FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.
Who tend life's garden fair,
Drop down the sweet wild blossoms
That bloom around us here.
Round many a cradle lies,
And every little baby
Brings a message from the skies.
As sacred offerings meet,
A wealth of household treasures
To lay at Jesus' feet.THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.
And scanned each cruel face,
Where cold and brutal cowardice
Had left its evil trace.
Round Beth'lem's manger lay,50 THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.
Of Jesu's natal day.
Who came their gifts to bring,
And bow in rev'rence at the feet
Of Salem's new-born King.
The choral song of peace,
That war should close his wrathful lips,
And strife and carnage cease.
Their discord and their strife,
And o'er that manger clasp their hands
With gifts to brighten life.
That cruelty and crime
Should cast their shadows o'er a day.
The fairest pearl of time.
A band of savage men,
Just as a hapless lamb might stray
Into a tiger's den.THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA. 51
For sport an evil chance,
And then demanded of the child
To give to them a dance.
"I can't," the child replied,
"I cannot for the dear Lord's sake,
Who for my sins once died."
He wouldn't his Lord deny.
His life lay in their cruel hands,
But he for Christ could die.
Their mandates dare resist?
Did he against their stern commands
Have courage to insist?
And dealt a fearful blow.
He crushed the portals of that life,
And laid the brave child low.
As on a broken toy;52 THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.
Upon the murdered boy.
His blood cries from the ground;
Before the sleepless eye of God,
He shows each gaping wound.
Lest crimson stain thy hand,
When God shall inquisition make
For blood shed in the land.
And shroud the pulpits round;
Servants of him who cannot lie
Sit mourning on the ground.
Pale every cheek with fears,
And rocks and stones, if ye could speak,
Ye well might melt to tears.
Of sorrow and regret,
Nor in an hour of careless ease
Thy brother's wrongs forget.THE NIGHT OF DEATH. 53
Nor speak with bated breath;
This evil shall not always last,
The end of it is death.
Upon a guilty land;
Strong in the strength that God supplies,
For truth and justice stand.
Are sowing round thy path
The tempests wild that yet shall break
In whirlwinds of God's wrath.THE NIGHT OF DEATH.
Death was sweeping through the land;
And the wings of dark destruction
Were outstretched from strand to strand
As the tempest and the waves54 THE NIGHT OF DEATH.
Suddenly to yawning graves.
And the tempest's wild alarms,
Stood a terror-stricken mother
With a child within her arms.
Each one nestling in her heart;
Swift in thought and swift in action,
She at least from one must part.
"Strive to save one child from death."
"Which one?" said the anxious daughter,
As she stood with bated breath.
What despair was in her eye!
All her little ones were precious;
Which one should she leave to die?
"I will take the little one."
"No," exclaimed the anxious mother;
"No, my child, it can't be done."THE NIGHT OF DEATH. 55
Save yourself and leave the child!"
"I will trust in Christ," he answered;
Grasped the little one and smiled.
Ever and anon she cried;
But throughout the night of terror
Never Bennie's voice replied.
He had found a safe retreat,
As if God had sent an angel,
Just to guide his wandering feet.
And the sea gave up its dead
She was mourning for her loved ones,
Lost amid that night of dread.
On her ear there fell a voice,
Bringing surcease to her sorrow,
Bidding all her heart rejoice.
And his eyes were full of light,56 MOTHER'S TREASURES.
Through the dark and dreadful night?"
Safe within his mother's arms,
Feeling Christ had been his guardian,
'Mid the dangers and alarms.
In the darkest, saddest night,
Till life's gloom-encircled shadows
Fade in everlasting light.
We our loved and lost shall greet,
With earth's wildest storms behind us,
And its cares beneath our feet.MOTHER'S TREASURES.
I call them Lily and Daffodil;
I gaze on them with a mother's pride,
One is Edna, the other is Will.
And laughing lips o'er teeth of pearl.MOTHER'S TREASURES. 57
My noble boy and darling girl.
I hold them as a sacred trust;
I fain would hide them in my heart,
Safe from tarnish of moth and rust.
The richest gifts of wealth or fame?
What for my girl? A loving heart
And a fair and a spotless name?
A pillar of strength to the state?
What for my girl? That she should be
The friend of the poor and desolate?
With weary feet the paths of pain.
I ask that in the darkest hour
They may faithful and true remain.
Pure as gems in the gates of pearl,
Lives to brighten and bless the world—
This I ask for my boy and girl.58 THE REFINER'S GOLD.
'Mid the holy hosts of heaven,
Enraptured say: "I am here, oh! God,
"And the children Thou hast given."THE REFINER'S GOLD.
And asked to enter in;
But I had barred the passage o'er
By unbelief and sin.
To set my spirit free;
With wounded feet he trod a path
To come and sup with me.
The fire of love had tried,
And garments whitened by his blood,
My wretchedness to hide.
Its glamour was too bright.
He came with ointment in his hands
To heal my darkened sight.THE REFINER'S GOLD. 59
By care and pain oppressed;
He whispered to my burdened heart,
Come unto me and rest.
On barren mountains cold;
With love's constraint he drew me on,
To shelter in his fold.
To welcome thy dear guest,
To change thy weariness and care
For comfort, peace and rest.
Just to behold his face,
Till I shall wear within my soul
The image of his grace.
To tenderness and love,
And bids us run with willing feet
Unto his courts above.60 A STORY OF THE REBELLION.
A STORY OF THE REBELLION.
And held it with a strong embrace
And death at our imprisoned crew
Was sternly looking face to face.
We strove to push the boat from shore;
But all in vain, for there we lay
With bated breath and useless oar.
The fiery hail fell thick and fast;
And we engirded by the sand,
Could not return the dreadful blast.
The ardent sun had left his trace,
A noble purpose strong and high
Uplighting all his dusky face.
The wrongs of ages thronged apace;
But with it came the glorious hope
Of swift deliverance to his race.
Of severed hearts again made one,A STORY OF THE REBELLION. 61
Through battles gained and victories won.
"Must die to get us out of this;"
Then leaped upon the strand and bared
His bosom to the bullets' hiss.
May win in battles yet unfought;
I have no offering but my life,
And if they kill me it is nought."
And boldly pushed it from the shore;
Then fell by rebel bullets pierced,
His life work grandly, nobly o'er.
And launched in safety on the tide;
But he our comrade good and grand,
In our defence had bravely died.BURIAL OF SARAH.
And bowed his sorrowing head;62 BURIAL OF SARAH.
Where I may lay my dead.
My home has lost its light;
Grant me a place where I may lay
My dead away from sight."
Gazed on the mourner's face,
And said, "Oh, Prince, amid our dead,
Choose thou her resting-place.
We place at thy command;
Against the plea thy grief hath made
We close not heart nor hand."
And said, "One place I crave;
'Tis at the end of Ephron's field,
And called Machpelah's cave.
For her last sleep that cave;
I do not ask for her I loved
The freedom of a grave."BURIAL OF SARAH. 63
"Hearken, my lord, to me;
Before our sons, the field and cave
I freely give to thee."
The grand old man then said;
"I pray thee let me buy the place
Where I may lay my dead."
His seed should own that land,
He gave the shekels for the field
He took from Ephron's hand.
His chosen seed should tread,
The soil where he in sorrow lay
His loved and cherished dead.GOING EAST.
With a light and a bounding heart,
To find in the distant West a home
With her husband to make a start.64 GOING EAST.
Where the prairie flower bloomed wild;
Her love made lighter all his toil,
And joy and hope around him smiled.
And helped to build his fortunes up;
While joy and grief, like bitter and sweet,
Were mingled and mixed in her cup.
All the strength of his manly prime;
Nor music of birds, nor brooks, nor bees,
Was as sweet as the dollar's chime.
For the fortune that came at length;
But toil and care and hope deferred,
Had stolen and wasted her strength.
Rich carpets were hushing her tread;
But light was fading from her eye,
And the bloom from her cheek had fled.
While his gold and his gains increased;GOING EAST. 65
Of her humble home in the East.
And a yearning that never ceased,
A longing to see the dear old home
She had left in the distant East.
And nestle close to her heart,
And to feel the heavy cares of life
Like the sun-kissed shadows depart.
And new wealth to his golden store;
And little thought the shadow of death
Was entering in at his door.
Of her tears repressed and unshed;
Nor dreamed 'mid plenty a human heart
Could be starving, but not for bread.
Its restless, baffled yearning ceased.
A lonely man sat by the bier
Of a corpse that was going East.66 THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.
THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.
Gaily issued forth a throng;
From her humbler habitations
Moved a human tide along.
Men who knew not mercy's sway,
Thronged into the Coliseum
On that Roman holiday.
From her jungles far away,
From the distant torrid regions,
Rome had gathered beasts of prey.
Tigers with their stealthy tread,
Leopards bright, and fierce, and fiery,
Met in conflict wild and dread.
Of the maddened beasts of prey,
As they fought and rent each other
Urged by men more fierce than they.
On a vast and distant shore,THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE. 67
And the lions' dreadful roar.
Lay the victims of the fight;
Eyes which once had glared with anguish,
Lost in death their baleful light.
Armed for conflict unto death,
Waiting for the prefect's signal,
Cold and stern with bated breath.
Te, salutant," rose the cry
From the lips of men ill-fated,
Doomed to suffer and to die.
Lives like chaff were thrown away,
Rome with all her pride and power
Butchered for a holiday.
Loud the clashing sabres rang;
When between the gladiators
All unarmed a hermit sprang.68 THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.
"On this carnage place your ban;"
But with flashing swords they answered,
"Back unto your place, old man."
Thrust the strange intruder back,
Who between their hosts advancing
Calmly parried their attack.
Stood the old heroic man;
While a maddened cry of anger
Through the vast assembly ran.
As with thumbs unbent they glared,
Till the prefect gave the signal
That his life should not be spared.
When his fearless words were said
Cruelly they fiercely showered
Stones on his devoted head.
Victor in that hour of strife;SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE. 69
That he could not win in life.
Struggling thoughts within him born,
Men had jeered his words as madness,
But his deed they could not scorn.
Nor for naught his daring deed;
From his grave his mangled body
Did for wretched captives plead.
Ceased her sport in human gore;
And into her Coliseum
Gladiators came no more.SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE.
Songs for the old and young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
Wherever they are sung.
For carnage nor for strife;70 SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE.
With more abundant life.
Amid life's fever and fret,
Till hearts shall relax their tension,
And careworn brows forget.
Before their footsteps stray,
Sweet anthems of love and duty,
To float o'er life's highway.
When shadows dim their sight;
Of the bright and restful mansions,
Where there shall be no night.
Needs music, pure and strong,
To hush the jangle and discords
Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.
Till war and crime shall cease;
And the hearts of men grown tender
Girdle the world with peace.LET THE LIGHT ENTER. 71
LET THE LIGHT ENTER.
And my life is ebbing low,
Throw the windows widely open:
Light! more light! before I go.
Play around my dying bed,
E'er the dimly lighted valley
I with lonely feet must tread.
Shadows 'round my waning sight,
And I fain would gaze upon him
Through a stream of earthly light."
Not for thoughts more grandly bright,
All the dying poet whispers
Is a prayer for light, more light.
Fading slowly from his sight;
All the poet's aspirations
Centre in that prayer for light.72 AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN.
Melt and vanish from the sight,
May our dim and longing vision
Then be blessed with light, more light.AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN.
Who weeps in her desolate home.
You can mourn o'er the exile of Russia
From kindred and friends doomed to roam.
From passion and appetite chains
To coil with a terrible tension
Around their heartstrings and brains.
Disinherited from their birth,
The wee waifs and toddlers neglected,
Robbed of sunshine, music and mirth.
Your mercy and pity they share.
For the wretched, outcast and fallen
You have tenderness, love and care.AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN. 73
Sobs of anguish, murmurs of pain,
And women heart-stricken are weeping
Over their tortured and their slain.
Shrink not from their sorrow in scorn.
When they entered the threshold of being
The children of a King were born.
The hand of our God has outspread,
To fountains that ever leap upward,
To share in the soil we all tread.
The exile from far-distant shores,
Remember that men are still wasting
Life's crimson around your own doors.
Just a plea, a prayer or a tear,
For mothers who dwell 'neath the shadows
Of agony, hatred and fear?
May crush them in anger and hate,74 AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN.
Will grind out the grist of their fate.
So lusty and proud in your prime,
The sharp sickles of God's retribution
Will gather your harvest of crime.
Weep not for the Negro alone,
But weep for your sons who must gather
The crops which their fathers have sown.
Of chieftains who masterful trod,
The sentence which time has engraven,
That they had forgotten their God.
The tares which in madness they sow,
Sorrow follows the footsteps of crime,
And Sin is the consort of Woe.THEN AND NOW. 75
THEN AND NOW.
The distant nations heard the word,
Build me a nation true and strong,
Bar out the old world's hate and wrong;
For men had traced with blood and tears
The trail of weary wasting years,
And torn and bleeding martyrs trod
Through fire and torture up to God.
God hid the secret of our land,
Men warred against their fiercest foes,
And kingdoms fell and empires rose,
Till, weary of the old world strife,
Men sought for broader, freer life,
And plunged into the ocean's foam
To find another, better home.
The new world broke upon their sight.
Men grasped the prize, grew proud and strong,
And cursed the land with crime and wrong.
The Indian stood despoiled of lands,
The Negro bound with servile bands,
Oppressed through weary years of toil,
His blood and tears bedewed the soil.76 THEN AND NOW.
And judgment streamed around his path;
His hand the captive's fetters broke,
His lightnings shattered every yoke.
As Israel through the Red sea trod,
Led by the mighty hand of God,
They passed to freedom through a flood,
Whose every wave and surge was blood.
Went down in wrath and blood and flame
The land was billowed-o'er with graves
Where men had lived and died as slaves.
Four and thirty years—what change since
then!
Beings once chattles now are men;
Over the gloom of slavery's night,
Has flashed the dawn of freedom's light.
Kneels and implores that her darling child
Shall not be torn from her bleeding heart,
With its quivering tendrils rent apart.
The father may soothe his child to sleep,
And watch his slumbers calm and deep.
No tyrant's tread will disturb his rest
Where freedom dwells as a welcome guest.THEN AND NOW. 77
His fireside the lowliest place;
But the wife and children sheltered there
Are his to defend and guard with care.
Where haughty tyrants once bore rule
Are ballot-box and public school.
The old slave-pen of former days
Gives place to fanes of prayer and praise.
To noble friends of darker days;
The men and women crowned with light,
The true and tried in our gloomy night.
To Lundy, whose heart was early stirred
To speak for freedom an earnest word;
To Garrison, valiant, true and strong,
Whose face was as flint against our wrong.
A tower of strength to the outcast slave.
Earth has no marble too pure and white
To enrol his name in golden light.
Our Douglass, too, with his massive brain,
Who plead our cause with his broken chain,
And helped to hurl from his bloody seat
The curse that writhed and died at his feet.78 THEN AND NOW.
Saw none he despised, though poor and black;
And Harriet Beecher, whose glowing pen
Corroded the chains of fettered men.
To-night with greenest laurels we'll crown
North Elba's grave where sleeps John Brown,
Who made the gallows an altar high,
And showed how a brave old man could die.
And Lincoln, our martyred President,
Who returned to his God with chains he had rent.*
And Sumner, amid death's icy chill,
Leaving to Hoar his Civil Rights Bill.
And let us remember old underground,
With all her passengers northward bound,
The train that ran till it ceased to pay,
With all her dividends given away.
Nor let it be said that we have forgot
The women who stood with Lucretia Mott;
Nor her who to the world was known
By the simple name of Lucy stone.
A tribute unto a host of others
Who knew that men though black were
brothers,
Who battled against our nation's sin,
Whose graves are thick whose ranks are thin.
Oh, people chastened in the fire,
To nobler, grander things aspire;MACEO. 79
Bring love for hate, and peace for strife;
Upon your hearts this vow record
That ye will build unto the Lord
A nobler future, true and grand,
To strengthen, crown and bless the land.
A higher freedom ye may gain
Than that which comes from a riven chain;
Freedom your native land to bless
With peace, and love and righteousness,
As dreams that are past, a tale all told,
Are the days when men were bought and sold;
Now God be praised from sea to sea,
Our flag floats o'er a country free.MACEO.
Through our hearts in sadness ran
When we felt in one sad hour
That the world had lost a man.
The sad fortunes of his land—
Held the cause for which he perished
With a firm, unfaltering hand.80 MACEO.
Fainted with his latest breath.
Cuba Libre was his watchword
Passing through the gates of death.
Why this agony and strife?
With the cross of Christ before us,
Why this fearful waste of life?
Ever mark a crimson line,
And the eyes of wayward mortals
Always close to light divine?
Fail 'mid crime and cruel wrong,
When the world has read of heroes
Brave and earnest, true and strong?
Sweeping round each war-crushed heart;
Men to say to strife and carnage—
From our world henceforth depart.
Haste! oh, haste the glorious dayMACEO. 81
O'er the world shall have its sway.
Spears that reap the battle field,
Shall be changed to higher service,
Helping earth rich harvests yield.
And the orphan bows his head,
Grant that peace and joy and gladness
May like holy angels tread.
Of thy world from thee astray,
Lead us from the paths of madness
Unto Christ the living way.
'Neath its weight of sin and strife,
Though the hands once pierced and bleeding
Offer more abundant life.
Heard upon Judea's plain
Sound throughout the earth the tidings
Of that old and sweet refrain.82 ONLY A WORD.
Finds the balmy rest of peace—
Peace to silence all her discords—
Peace till war and crime shall cease.
Or on parchéd flowers dew,
Till our hearts proclaim with gladness:
Lo, He maketh all things new."FISHERS OF MEN."
Before my ravished sight
The city of my Lord arose,
With all its love and light.
Flowed out with sweet accord;
And saints were casting down their crowns
In homage to our Lord."FISHERS OF MEN." 83
Life's toil and pain were o'er;
My weary feet at last had found
The bright and restful shore.
Ready to enter in,
From earth arose a fearful cry
Of sorrow and of sin.
A wild and stormy sea;
And drowning men were reaching out
Imploring hands to me.
And moaning for relief;
The music of the golden harps
Grew fainter for their grief.
Close to the pearly gate;
My work is with these wretched ones,
So wrecked and desolate.
This is the gate of life,
Wilt thou return to earth's sad scenes,
Its weariness and strife,84 SIGNING THE PLEDGE.
To dry the falling tear,
Wilt thou forego the music sweet
Entrancing now thy ear?
The strugglers in that sea
Shall not reach out beseeching hands
In vain for help to me.
The gloomy sea grew bright,
And from my heart there seemed to flow
Ten thousand cords of light.
Did grasp each golden cord;
And with my heart I drew them on
To see my gracious Lord.
My heart was glad and free;
For with me stood a rescued throng
The Lord had given me.THE LOST BELLS. 85
THE LOST BELLS.
With earnest, loving care,
The music flooding all his soul
To pour upon the air.
He counted not the cost;
Nor deemed the years in which he toiled
As labor vainly lost.
The golden gates of day,
He longed to fill the air with chimes
Sweet as a matin's lay.
Within the distant West,
He gladly heard the bells he wrought
Herald the hour of rest.
Could never be so dear
As when those solemn chants and thrills
Fell on his list'ning ear.
And felt his toil repaid;
He called them children of his soul,
His home a'near them made.86 THE LOST BELLS.
War spread his banner wide,
And from his village snatched away
The artist's love and pride.
The chimes no more he heard;
With dull and restless agony
His spirit's depths was stirred.
It bound him like a spell;
He left his home to seek the chimes—
The chimes he loved so well.
Upon his ear there fell
No music like the long lost chimes
Of his beloved bell.
Touched by the hand of time,
Seeking to hear with anxious heart
Each well remembered chime.
There came a glad surcease:
He heard again the dear old chimes,
And smiled and uttered peace.THE LOST BELLS. 87
"I hear their tones at last;"
A sudden rapture filled his heart,
And all his cares were past.
His journeying was o'er,
The weary, restless wanderer
Had reached the restful shore.
Enfolded in the air,
The dear old chimes beside the gates
Where all is bright and fair;
When Angelus was sung
In clearer light touched golden harps
By angel fingers strung.88 "DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING."
"DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING," SAID CAPT. PHILLIPS, IN THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR.
From their distant homes in pain;
And the restless sea is darkened
By a flood of crimson rain.
Wait and watch in lonely dread;
Vainly waiting for the footsteps
Never more their paths to tread.
Gather round the widowed wife,
Wondering why an unknown people
Sought their own dear father's life.
Bend above their staves and weep,
While the ocean sings the requiem
Where their fallen children sleep.
On which lay the mother's kiss;
'Mid the dreadful roar of battle
How that mother's hand they miss!"DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING." 89
Who the mazy dance did tread,
Bow their heads in bitter anguish,
Mourning o'er their cherished dead.
In this strife must bear a part;
While the blow that strikes a soldier
Reaches to some woman's heart.
O'er the nations holds its sway,
And the century now closing
Ushers in a brighter day.
Shall more wise and thoughtful grow
Than to staunch a stream of sorrow
By an avalanche of woe.
Sheathes the sword and blunts the spear,
And we sing aloud for gladness:
Lo, the reign of Christ is here,
From the battlefield are furled,
And the peace of God descending
Rests upon a restless world.90 THE BURDENS OF ALL.
THE BURDENS OF ALL.
Of the black, the brown and white;
But if we all clasped hands together
The burdens would be more light.
How to solve life's saddest problems,
Its weariness, want and woe,
Was answered by One who suffered
In Palestine long ago.
To ease the burdens of men,
"As ye would that others do to you
Do ye even so to them."
Life's heavy, wearisome burdens
Will change to a gracious trust
When men shall learn in the light of God
To be merciful and just.
And slavery masterful had,
Let white and black and brown unite
To build the kingdom of God.
And never attempt in madness
To build a kingdom or state,
Through greed of gold or lust of power,
On the crumbling stones of hate.
The sunshine fade into night,
Till mercy and justice shall cement
The black, the brown and the white.
And earth shall answer with gladness,
The herald angel's refrain,
When "Peace on earth, good will to men"
Was the burden of their strain.
Related recommendations
-
The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices, by Charles Dickens
-
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Thuvia, Maid of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
-
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jacobs's Fables of Aesop
-
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Daisy Miller: a Study, by Henry James
-
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nada the Lily, by H. Rider Haggard
-
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
- Recently published
-
- Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
- The Project Gutenberg RST Manual
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Persuasion
- The Haunted Hotel
- The Comedy of Errors
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Oedipus Trilogy, by Sophocles
- Sara Crewe, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tom Sawyer Abroad, By Mark Twain
- King Henry VI, Part 1
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Call of the Wild, by Jack London
- Random reads
-
- Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, by Amy Lowell
- Caesar's Commentaries in Latin, by Julius Caesar
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Collected Articles of Frederick Douglass, by Frederick Douglass
- The Red Badge of Courage
- Tartarin of Tarascon, by Alphonse Daudet
- The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of NREN for All: Insurmountable Opportunity, by Jean Armour Polly
- An International Episode, by Henry James
- King Henry VI, Part 1
- The Touchstone, by Edith Wharton
- Sara Crewe, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
- Adieu, by Honore de Balzac
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The 32nd Mersenne PrimePredicted by Mersenne, by David Slowinski
- The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
- The Project Gutenberg Copyrighted E
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of As You Like It, by William Shakespeare
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Open Letter on Translating, by Martin Luther
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The 1990 United States Census, by United States. Bureau of the Census
- Sara Crewe, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
- Search
-
- Friendly links
-
- strategy games for 6 year olds under 100 dollars
- best dress up clothes for 10 year olds
- best circuit kits for 3 year olds under 20 dollars
- best floor puzzles for 11 year olds under 50 dollars
- gift clay kits for 14 year olds
- best electronic learning toys for 7 year olds under 20 dollars
- best jigsaw puzzles for 6 year olds under 50 dollars
- best portable dollhouses for 11 year olds under 30 dollars
- music boxes for 11 year olds under 50 dollars
- affordable toy cars under 10 dollars
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Toy
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Advanced Toy Making for Schools, by David M. Mitchell
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of How to Make Electrical Machines, by R. A. R. Bennett
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Making Tin Can Toys, by Edward Thatcher.
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Horse's Tale, by Mark Twain
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Coriolanus, by William Shakespeare
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant — Volume 2, by Ulysses S. Grant
- The City of Dreadful Night, by James Thomson
- God the Invisible King, by H. G. Wells
- The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Merry Wives of Windsor, by William Shakespeare