NIAGARA, AND OTHER POEMS

Niagara, and Other Poems

By

Benjamin Copeland

Buffalo and New York:

The Matthews-Northrup Works

1904

Copyright, 1904,

By

Benjamin Copeland

CONTENTS.

NIAGARA.

Majestic symbol of eternal power!

Dread oracle of eons all unknown!

Before thy presence Pomp and Passion cower,—

All men are equal at thy awful throne.

Abashed, the eager babble of the mart,—

To silence shamed, the vulgar greed for gain;

No more ambition goads the weary heart,

And Toil forgets its unrequited pain.

Stern type of Truth’s inexorable law!

No room remains for envy or for pride;

Here prince and pauper stand in common awe,

Swayed by the spell of thy resistless tide.

A rushing, seething Sinai,—thou dost pour

On sluggish consciences the solemn sense

Of justice infinite:—thy thunder’s roar

Declares to Wrong relentless recompense.

Against our arrogance thy strength doth plead;

Deep unto deep imperiously calls;

Impartial annalist! the nations read

Their transient glory on thy ageless walls.

Yet dost thou deign to dower the moment’s need,—

Our dreams exceeding by thy bounteous sway;

With power unrivaled thy proud flood shall speed

The New World’s progress toward Time’s perfect day.

O mighty monitor! O seer sublime!

The soul’s surpassing grandeur thou dost show;—

The fountains of thy immemorial prime

Through man’s immortal being freely flow.

THE MEADOW AIR IS SWEET.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The cowslip’s cup of gold

Is full of fresh and fragrant dew,—

More full than it can hold.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The blackbird’s mellow note,

Like water in a little brook,

Flows gurgling from his throat.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The stream that cheers the lea

Will feel the willow’s tender kiss,

E’en to the distant sea.

The meadow air is sweet;—

Hark! from the old elm tree:—

Ah! only lovers understand

The oriole’s ecstasy.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The clover, handsome-white,

With dainty odors woos the bee,

And fills her with delight.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The bobolink is there!

When he is mute a faery flute

Seems echoing in the air.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The daisy in the grass

Looks up to see the clouds, and feel

Their shadow as they pass.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The swallow flashes by,

Too merry for a moment’s rest

Between the earth and sky.

The meadow air is sweet;—

The day wanes in the west,

And twilight’s soothing shadows lull

A weary world to rest.

The meadow air is sweet;—

Like altar incense rare,

It blends the robin’s even-song

With the little children’s prayer.

WHEN LIFE WAS LIKE A SUNNY STREAM.

Alas! it seemeth but a dream,—

My childhood’s bright, bright day,

When life was like a sunny stream

Left to its own glad way.

How wonderful the radiant Spring,

In garden, glade, and wood!

Fresh from God’s hand seemed everything,

"And everything was good!"

Close by the door, the apple tree,

From many a fruitful bough,

Its richest blossoms spread for me;—

I feel their fragrance now!

The robin and the oriole,

(I loved them both the same),

Their sweetest songs to me did troll,—

I think they knew my name!

A little brook, from hidden spring,

Ran babbling down the hill;

It seemed to me a living thing,—

I hear its laughter still!

Ah! ours was bliss without alloy,

And friendship fondly leal;—

I brought it human love and joy,—

It turned my water-wheel!

And, tired of play, what peace I found,

As the bright clouds sailed by,

Just to lie down upon the ground

And look into the sky!

Deep, deep, that look of calm delight,

So free from care and pain;—

Would God I might its holy height,

Its sweet repose, regain!

The meadow, and the old elm tree,

The woods, the waterfall,—

Once more they all come back to me;

I see and hear them, all.

I see and hear them, and rejoice;

For forms and faces dear,

Lost long, long since to sight and voice,

Once more to me appear.

And hark! a little child again,—

I hear, with heart abrim,

That tender, ravishing refrain,—

The redbreast’s evening hymn!

So God be praised for that sweet dream,

My childhood’s bright, bright day,—

When life was like a sunny stream

Left to its own glad way.

THE FIRST ROBIN.

Herald of the happy year,

Robin redbreast, art thou here?

Welcome to thy destined goal;

Welcome, songster of the soul!

Age and Childhood find, in thee,

Kindred bond of sympathy;

Hope and memory are one,

In thy song’s sweet unison.

Common freehold all hearts claim

In thy nature’s artless aim;

Best of priests and poets, thou,

Singing on the leafless bough.

Mead and mountain, wood and wold,

Wait the rapture manifold,

Which shall prove thee saint and seer,—

Dearest minstrel of the year!

Every note like April rain,—

Thou transmutest, in thy strain,

With the season’s subtle power,

Winter’s dearth to summer’s dower.

Glows the mold with vernal fire

Kindled by thy love’s desire;

Nature wakens, at thy call,

To her Easter festival.

Mateless messenger divine!

Peerless privilege is thine:—

Thou interpretest to Faith

The deep mystery of death.

THE GOAL.

Sweet scents, sweet sounds, sweet scenes!

With all that intervenes

In sweeter solemn silences profound,—

Whereinto overflows,

In forest, river, rose,

Passionless being, beauty without bound.

How deep the mind’s repose!

The vagrant sea-breeze blows

With kindred pulses through the fragrant shade;

And sod and soul are blent

In blest enfranchisement,—

Prefiguring the end for all things made.

For life and love, supreme

Beyond the poet’s dream,

Shall bear all being to its blissful goal;

The wondrous word is true—

"Lo! I make all things new;"

The universe is ransomed with the soul!

THE REWARD.

From green to gold

The year grows old,

With beautiful increase;

The seasons wane

To ripened grain

And Nature’s deepest peace.

The same sure plan

Is thine, O man!

Alike for sod and soul,

The law of love,—

Enthroned above—

That guides thee to thy goal.

Have faith in God:—

Who gives the clod

Its meed of fruit or flower,

Shall crown thy cares,

Thy tears, thy prayers,

With an immortal dower.

STRENGTH AND BEAUTY.

The Useful and the Beautiful,

Indissolubly blent,

One law reveal, one Will and weal,

In sod and firmament.

The earth below, the sky above,

With flowers and stars are sprent;—

The child to cheer, the saint, the seer,

Their love and light are lent.

For Strength and Beauty equal are,

In Nature’s kind intent,—

The hawthorn hedge, and granite ledge

That binds the continent.

Were wish and will more dutiful,

And life more nobly spent,

Would we not know, with souls aglow,

What such high vision meant?

Ah, yes! our lowliest tasks would then

In heaven’s own glory shine,

And time be told on harps of gold,

In dream and deed divine.

VIOLET, ROSE, AND GOLDEN-ROD.

Violet, rose, and golden-rod!

Blossoms of the self-same sod,

Springing from the breathing mold

Into beauty manifold.

Each its season knoweth well,

Without sign or syllable,—

Faithful to the law benign

Potent over palm and pine.

Excellent in their degree,

Rivals they can never be;

Fashioned with divinest grace,

Each is perfect in its place.

Dear to Childhood and to Age,

Each hath ample heritage

In these human hearts of ours,

Kindred with the leaves and flowers.

Children of the shower and sun,

Soon, like theirs, our day is done;—

We are fading e’en as they,—

We with them must pass away.

But the flowers shall bloom again;

Ends, at last, the winter’s reign;—

Life is larger than a breath,—

Love is master over death!

Precious, in the sight of God,

Violet, rose, and golden-rod;—

Dearer far to Heaven are we,

Children of eternity!

OCTOBER.

Crimson-and-gold, October’s boughs proclaim

The approaching Passion of the waning year;

By sacramental signs, for aye the same,

Pathetic portents show the end is near.

The landscape lessens in the shimmering haze;

The songless silence chants the season’s grief;—

Too soon shall follow, with the darkening days,

The fading field-flower and the falling leaf.

No more allures the lovely glade or glen;

A nameless sorrow haunts the lonely shore;

The frosts have fallen on the hearts of men;

The little children seek the woods no more.

For Nature holds us surely as her own,

In sleet and snow, or under skies of blue;

From birth to death we share her mirth or moan,—

Forever to our faithful mother true.

Yet, in our loneliest hours, alike we feel

The comfort Heaven to wood and wold supplies,—

A hope that doth the season’s sadness heal

And binds us closer still, in tenderest ties.

A kindred impulse stirs our common dust

To look beyond the winter’s dearth and dole,

And find in God, our Life, our Strength, our Trust,

The everlasting summer of the soul.

THE WINDOW OVER THE STABLE-DOOR.
An Idyl of the Common Life.

From the window over the stable-door,

Hark! how the notes of gladness pour!

Like playful brook, their free, clear flow,—

But why such joy I do not know;

For ’tis the coachman’s humble cot;—

The horses share his lowly lot:—

The same roof shelters beast and man;—

So prudently doth Dives plan!

Who here would look to see enshrin’d

A happy heart, a peaceful mind?

The fact exceeds my fancy’s range,—

Yet ’tis as true as it is strange;—

For hark! how the notes of gladness pour

Through the window over the stable-door!

In such secluded spot, I fear

’T were sacrilege to venture near;—

Half guiltily I close the book,

And turn, unseen, an eager look

To the window over the stable-door,

Whence still those notes of gladness pour.

Ah! now the meaning plain I see

Of that sweet-throated mystery;—

For, rocking softly to and fro,

With fair, fine forehead bending low,

A mother lulls to slumber blest

Her first-born babe upon her breast.

A lovelier sight, through leafy screen,

By faun or fairy ne’er was seen;

And never more melodious word

The sylvan silence ever stirred.

Not hers to see the grace she wears,—

Nor hers to dream the peace she bears,

By such a blessed minstrelsy,

Into the world’s wide misery;—

But all unconsciously each thought

Is into melting music wrought.

She does not hear the song she sings,—

Nor can she know the bliss it brings,

Far, far beyond her babe, to me,—

A life’s space from a mother’s knee!

It tells me of a heart at rest,

A quiet mind, contented, blest,—

A little paradise, shut in

From envy, vanity, and sin.

She meekly shares her husband’s lot,

And sanctifies this humble spot

With trustful, sweet simplicity,

In all her girlhood’s purity,—

With word and look from murmuring free,

And love’s unmeasured ministry.

Hark! how the notes of gladness pour

From the window over the stable door!

And now as soft as vesper bells,

The soul’s deep song more faintly swells.

Is it because, the while she sings,

Like Mary, pondering “these things,”

She thinks of angels far away,

And Him who in a manger lay?—

The Blessed Babe the Virgin press’d

Adoringly to her pure breast?

The Holy Child, forever dear,—

The Son of God, forever near,—

The loving Christ, whose kingdom, sure,

Is in the bosoms of the poor;—

Who passed from out the stable-door

All souls to serve, on sea or shore,

And rule all worlds forevermore.

“HAIL TO THE CHIEF!”
(William McKinley.)

Niagara-like the welcome which awaits

The Nation’s Chief, approaching now our gates;

From depths sincere the People’s joy shall pour

Like many waters thundering on the shore,

As to her heart her honored Guest she takes,—

The Town we love,—the Empress of the Lakes!

Nor ours alone the President to greet;—

The North, the South, the East, the West, here meet,—

Each Commonwealth contributing its share

Of honor due, beneath one banner fair:—

Brothers forevermore, from sea to sea,—

One country dear, one hope, one destiny!

Nor even here shall the wide welcome end;—

Beyond our bounds its ardour shall extend;

For neighboring Nations, each American,

Admire with us the President, the man!

And, sharing with delight the common feast,

Shall feel anew their noblest aims increased.

City of Light! Crown-jewel of our fame!

Throw wide your gates to him of blameless name;—

With peerless pageant swell the rising tide

Of grateful joy and patriotic pride.

Rehearse the thrilling history once more:—

Manila’s bay and Santiago’s shore!

Let glowing dome and pennoned turret tell,

To God’s sole praise, the matchless miracle.

Nor fail to voice the Present’s mighty plan,

And justify the name American!

Saxon, or Latin-born,—we’re all one blood:—

The Exposition stands for brotherhood.

So may the morrow dawn,—so pass away,

In cheer prophetic of our widening sway;—

And when the evening’s deepening shadows fall,

And heaven’s sweet silence broodeth over all,

May the blest memories of the day be blent

In that fair Vision in mid-firmament,

The Tower of Light! Niagara’s flood in flame!

The radiant symbol of our Future’s fame:—

Pledge of an age whose light shall never cease,—

The boundless empire of the Prince of Peace!

The above lines were written September 3, 1901, and printed the following afternoon in the Buffalo Commercial, an hour or two before President McKinley’s arrival in the city the evening before “President’s Day” at the Pan-American Exposition.

B. C.

CUBA LIBRE.
(Tune: Maryland, My Maryland.)

The work is wrought; the cannon’s roar

On sea or land is heard no more;

The battle’s rage and tumult cease

In songs of victory and peace.

The Heaven-appointed task is done;

The cause for which we fought is won;

And Cuba Libre, fairest gem,

Is set in Freedom’s diadem!

Havana’s waters, blue and broad,

Reflect the righteousness of God;

And Santiago’s wreck-strewn shore

Resounds His praise for evermore.

The islands of the sea rejoice;

The floods lift up their mighty voice;

From shore to shore the anthems rise,—

A nation’s grateful sacrifice.

Long as the stars shall shine o’erhead,

In deathless fame shall live the dead;

Their country’s glory and renown

Their fadeless, everlasting crown.

The morning breaks! the shadows flee!

Christ’s kingdom comes on land and sea:—

The rule of love, the reign of good,—

The whole round world one brotherhood!

THE GREATER REPUBLIC.

Our destiny was cast in an imperial mold,—

Our mission drawn on an immenser plan

Than marked, in deathless lines, our sires’ high faith of old,—

Earth’s broadest-visioned prophecy of man.

From ancient feuds removed, and favoring seas between,

In isolation enviable, supreme,

We dwelt apart content,—self-center’d and serene,—

The Old World’s wonder and the Ages’ dream.

When suddenly a cry from out the surging deep

We fondly deemed the guardian of our peace:—

A wail of anguish sore from breaking hearts that weep

Sweet Freedom’s doom and savage Wrong’s release.

Deep calling unto deep! the Island’s bitter cry

Awakes the Continent to sleep no more:—

Heart ever answers heart:—America’s reply

Is Santiago’s world-resounding shore.

Nor here, alone, the Hand mysterious and divine;—

Manila’s equal miracle foreshowed

The Providential path, with yet unsealèd sign,

Where first our arms to scathless triumph rode.

True to the unsought task we could not comprehend,—

By foes maligned, by friends misunderstood,

This faith sustained us still, to the appointed end:—

Heaven serves the Sword unsheath’d for human good.

Clear, now, the purpose of the Highest,—plain His plan:—

To mould the Nation after His own mind,

And give, in common emprise with the Son of Man,

The moral leadership of all mankind.

EMERSON.

Bard of the soaring soul,

Of thought sublime, serene,—

Lord of the Pleiades

And all the stars between!

And further still thy sway:—

Thy realm, that vaster deep

Where galaxies unseen

Their radiant courses keep.

With measure masterful

Thou raisest our desire,

Till to thy boldest flight

Our eager souls aspire.

But not alone thy thought

In star-sprent spaces strown;

Thy largess manifold

Hath nearer harvests sown.

Ah! yes;—a richer crop

We gather, in thy song,

Than ever homeward brought

The Wain with “oxen strong.”

The Snow Storm, and Wood Notes,

Forerunners, and May-Days,

To the dear earth belong,

And grace our lowliest ways.

Concord, and Boston “Hymn,”—

They stir our pulses still,

And hold, for Freedom’s need,

The patriot heart and will.

The Problem,—Each and All,

Thy kind theology!

And like the Lord Christ’s heart,

Thy sweet Apology.

The Dirge,—the Threnody,

Our tenderest tears unseal;—

We know their loneliness,

And all their sorrow feel.

To Virtue’s holiest heights

Leads, still, thy dauntless strain,

And on our follies falls

“Its beautiful disdain.”

Between Rhodora’s bloom

And Merlin’s mighty rhyme,

Our largest thoughts find room,

O World-Soul seer sublime!

But little need hast thou

Of tribute we may bring;—

Thy fame hath Eastertide

With each returning Spring.

The centuries shall guard

The glory of thy verse,

And worthier song than ours

Its golden notes rehearse.

Thou buildest thy renown

With ageless masonry:—

Monadnock’s granite walls

Thy monument shall be!

DANIEL WEBSTER.

The grandeur of the mountains

Is in his deep tones heard;—

Atlantic’s mighty fountains

Inundate every word.

Torrential thought and feeling

In tides of passion pour,—

To patriot hearts appealing,

As sea to storm-swept shore.

Columbia’s star-crown’d daughters

Own his majestic will;—

Like voice of many waters,

His name is potent still.

In loftiest communion

With seer and sage of yore,

For Liberty and Union

He pleads for evermore!

LINCOLN.

Like monarch of the forest

He looms out of the Past:—

Our strength when need was sorest,—

Our pride while Time shall last.

To God, the gracious Giver,

All praise and glory be,

While flows each free-born river

Unfettered to the sea.

AGASSIZ—EMERSON.

Far different the task assigned,

Yet were they one in loftiest aim;

True mirror, each, of the Eternal Mind,

They share a common fadeless fame.

One Will they owned, with rapturous awe,

One sway supreme from man to Mars,—

Chanting the chorus of the moral law

With Seraphim and Morning Stars!

WELCOME!

With love no words may measure,

Deep as life’s hidden wells,—

With sweetest, purest pleasure,

Chautauqua’s bosom swells.

A memory true and tender,

At which the warm tears start,—

Her Founder and Defender—

His home is in her heart!

O gratefully she meets him,

Restored to her once more;

And rapturously greets him,

With welcomes o’er and o’er.

Her joy untold confessing,

(Now be God’s goodness prais’d!)

As for a father’s blessing,

Her eyes to his are raised.

Full well she knows attend her

His prayers on sea and shore—

His spotless fame her splendor,

Her pride for evermore!

St. Vincent, we would name him,

Ere yet his crown is won,—

Before the skies shall claim him

For Christ’s dear word, “Well done!”

Chautauqua, 1902.

FAME.

In empty rumor sown to woful ruth,

How many reputations pass like chaff,

Before Time’s judgment winnowing for Truth

Immortal morrow and eternal youth.

Recalled for mirth,—remembered with a laugh!

Poor fames! that flower and wither with the grass,—

Once fondly deemed more durable than brass.

Heed well the clarion sounding through the sky,

Impartial herald of the Voice of God!

Proclaiming to the ages wide abroad

The mighty names that were not born to die.

Hark! ’tis the centuries’ roll-call, calm and clear,—

From thrones of fadeless glory answered, “Here!”

By souls supreme whose record is on high.

DEFEATED?

I raise a pillar, fine and fair,—

The monument of my despair;

No fame of conqueror or king

E’er won a nobler offering:—

Behold, where strength and beauty meet

To celebrate a life’s defeat!

From hearts of stone to heart of stone,

The soul appeals, as to her own;—

The stainless granite, stately, strong,

Shall chant my failure’s deathless song;

Severe as Truth, this shaft shall shame

The poor world’s pitiable blame.

FIDELITY.

The sunbeam in the hovel,

And in the Hall, are one,—

Each in his station faithful,

Until his task is done.

In soul and service, brothers,

To one blest birth-right born,

Nor chance nor change can sever

The children of the Morn.

Co-workers in one purpose,

Co-partners of one plan,

Each bears on stainless pinions,

The love of Heaven to man.

If true to God, what matters,

Where’er our work is done?

The sunbeam in the hovel,

And in the Hall, are one.

TRANSFIGURED!
(“The Word was made flesh.”)

Garment of Flesh, to thee was given

The virgin glow of sun and sod:—

Dawn-woven in the loom of Heaven,—

The last, the tenderest touch of God!

With human passion dear, divine,

Thou dost the deathless soul supply;

Altar and hearth alike are thine,

Sweet bridal of the earth and sky!

The glory of Eternity

Rests like a crown upon thy brow;

Celestial light o’ershadows thee:—

Blest mother of my Lord art thou!

BETRAYED.

Deceived, deflowered, despoiled!

O drooping lily, late with light aglow!

Around thy root is coiled

The hidden horror of a nameless woe.

Deceived, defiled, despoiled!

Is there no healing for a broken heart?

O God! hadst Thou but foiled

The fatal spell of the betrayer’s art.

Deceived, despised, despoiled!

The blight has fallen on thy peerless bloom;

To bless thy bridal eager ages toiled;—

A moment’s glamour leaves thee endless gloom.

SUNSET.

Crimson and cloth-of-gold,

His cloud-couch, rarely wrought;—

To bower so beautiful

No bride was ever brought.

Save his,—of tender grace,—

Dear Twilight, faithful, fair,

On whose sweet lips he seeks

Surcease of toil and care.

O light ineffable!

Wonder of wood and wold;—

The vision and the pledge

Of rapture manifold.

FULFILLMENT.

Lips to lips in rapture pressed,—

Dearest secret of the breast

In a moment all confessed;—

Love is best; love is best!

Worn with care, by pain oppressed,—

Empty arms and aching breast,—

Longing for release and rest;—

Death is best; death is best!

Home at last! O welcome blest!

Heart to heart our loved ones pressed,—

Of eternal life possessed;—

Heaven is best! heaven is best!

CONTENTMENT.

Content with life’s allotted hours,

Or brook or river,—may mine be

Forever cheered by its unfailing Source,—

A happy stream unhasting to the Sea,—

With little children, birds and flowers,

The dear companions of its tranquil course.

COMPANIONSHIP.

Lured by no lower goal between,

From light to light still upward move,

Aspiring to the heights serene

Of magnanimity and love.

Thou shalt not take thy way alone;—

The Beautiful, the True, the Good,

Shall draw to thee, undream’d, unknown,

Heaven’s fairest First-Born Brotherhood!

And with them, steadfast to the end,

The sons of God of like degree,

Earth’s noblest souls shall thee attend

With kingliest, kindliest company.

ASPIRATION AND ATTAINMENT.

Two natures, ours,—two lives

Attest our heavenly birth;—

In “the third heaven,” one,—

The other, on the earth.

One soars to realms above,

Where saints and angels dwell;

The other strives alone

With all the powers of hell.

The soul’s clear vision, one,

And ecstacy untold;

The other, darkness, doubt,

And sorrow manifold.

The one is triumph, rest;

The other, struggle, pain:—

A fearful fight, wherein

Both prayers and tears seem vain.

And yet they are but one,

Though worlds between them roll;

One, also, their reward

In God, their glorious goal.

For duty, in the dust,

Is equally divine

With victor wreath and crown

Which in His presence shine.

A QUESTION OR TWO.

If, as you say, like dogs we die,

Why, then, like angels live?

Let faithless Reason make reply,

And honest answer give.

What power shall check the downward trend

Of wilful hearts of men,

If in eternal nothing end

Their three score years and ten?

That Virtue is its own reward—

Think you sufficient cause

To move men to the due regard

Of Heaven’s holiest laws?

While blood is blood, and gold is gold,

Alas, you vainly try,

With fine-spun calculations cold,

To lure us to the sky.

Be naught beyond to hold in awe

The beast in every breast,

Then tooth and claw shall be our law;—

Why need to paint the rest?

Grant us for our protection here,

This boon, Philosophy,

If not the hope, the wholesome fear,

Of immortality.

And, meanwhile, in our memory keep

That earnest word of old:—

Whate’er thou sowest thou shalt reap,

In measure manifold.

OTHER SHEEP.

Pagan, Papist, Protestant!

What is that to thee or me?

Make not Heaven’s mercy scant

With thy pampered bigotry.

Who made thee the judge to be

Of thy brother’s destiny?

Deem not that thy shibboleth

Holds the keys of life and death.

Ah, that secret, sullen sign!

Call it not decree divine;

For a letter, more, or less,

Measures not God’s tenderness.

“Other sheep I have,” said One

Who was more than Mary’s son;—

Eyes as blind as thine shall see

His amazing charity.

When it claims the judgment-throne,

What is creed but craft and cant?

God will surely know His own:—

Pagan, Papist, Protestant.

BY MANY PATHS.

By many names the one true God is known;

By many shrines man’s faith in Him is shown;—

Varuna, Vishnu, Agni, Indra,—One!

As stars confess the all-sustaining sun.

By many paths true, humble hearts are brought

At last to Him whom they in darkness sought.

All lands alike the Father’s mercies share;

No age was ever orphaned of His care;—

For souls sincere, forever has sufficed

The boundless merit of the blessed Christ;

And over all forever shall extend

The love that knows no measure and no end.

[^[A]]POOR LITTLE JOE!

“Poor little Joe!” the poet said,

When it was told him she was dead;—

“Poor little Joe!” the warm tears start

From the deep fountains of his heart;—

“Poor little Joe!” he loved her so.

“Poor little Joe!” he knows too well

What darkness on his darling fell,

When, in her loneliness and pain,

“Papa!” she called,—but called in vain;—

“Poor little Joe!” she missed him so.

“Poor little Joe!” she loved him so,

And wished to stay, yet longed to go;—

One fond caress, one sweet “Good-night,”

Had made the way to heaven so bright!

“Poor little Joe!” she loved him so.

“Poor little Joe!” was all he said,

When it was told him she was dead;

But everywhere the warm tears start

Responsive to his breaking heart;—

“Poor little Joe!” we loved her so.

[A]. Josephine Kipling—eldest child of Rudyard Kipling.

DARK, AND DAYS.

The same old problems vex mankind;

In meager beams the light is given;

Nor may the race e’er hope to find

The rest for which each age has striven.

The same old problems vex mankind;

But to our fears this faith is given:—

Broods over all the Eternal Mind,

And night on earth is day in heaven.

EXPERIENCE.

Slowly is life revealed, and slowlier still

The mystic scroll of the Eternal Will;

But, calming our impatience, Hope replies,—

“The days are ignorant,—the years are wise.”

A SURE FOUNDATION.

Hold firmly, for thy soul’s behoof,

This holy faith, divinely broad:—

The good in us is blessed proof

Of goodness infinite in God!

THE VOYAGE.

Embarked upon an unknown sea,

And borne by tide which ne’er returns,—

Awed by the deepening mystery,

The stoutest heart for comfort yearns.

Fear not;—we are not left alone;

To wiser hands the helm is given;—

A guidance better than our own

Directs our way from earth to heaven.

THE STONECROFT.

Dauntless in drouth and dearth,

Its pure, bright bloom is given

Not by the damps of earth,

But by the dews of heaven.

O soul shut in with pain,—

By want and woe oppressed,

Look up,—take heart again;

In God’s sure keeping rest.

The bounty of thy birth

Remains, whate’er be given;

Denied the damps of earth,

Thine, still, the dews of heaven!

PROGRESS.

Onward and upward moves the world,—

As toward the sun the seasons roll;—

Aspiring, striving, struggling, still,—

Onward and upward toward the goal.

Onward and upward moves the world!

The night is spent; and, clear and broad,

The dawn predicts the perfect day:—

Onward and upward still toward God!

A BENEDICTION.

The Christ of Cana brighten

The bliss thy heart may share;—

The Christ of Calvary lighten

The cross thy soul must bear.

LOVE AND TRUTH.

Like shy arbutus’ bloom,

Half hidden, half revealed,

Her heart for love makes sweetest room,—

Disclosed, and yet concealed.

Ah! it was ever so,—

Disclosed, and yet concealed:

As to her eyes her breasts of snow,

Half hidden, half revealed!

And darkly truth is known,—

Half hidden, half revealed;

And dimly, still, Christ’s dear face shown,—

Disclosed, and yet concealed.

Will it be ever so,—

Disclosed, and yet concealed?

All that we most desire to know,

Half hidden, half revealed?

BEAUTY.

What is it, but the point where meet

The finite and the infinite?

The light on childhood’s brow that hovers,—

The all-revealing glance of lovers;

The troth of flowers and stars on high,—

The bridal of the earth and sky;

The sheen of heaven on soul and sod,—

The glory and the grace of God;—

The gleam of Sun beyond the sun,—

The mortal and immortal, one!

HEART OF LOVE.

Out of the heart of Love all beauty blows,

Of star-sprent sky or flower-sweet sod;—

One Source all being owns, one sure repose,—

The bosom of the life of God!

THE CORONATION.

’Tis not enough to hold the faith

To saints and sages given;

Truth asks of thee a fealty

Like her fair throne in heaven.

Transmute it into character,—

Translate it into life;

And crown thy creed with golden deed

And love that conquers strife.

DISCIPLESHIP.

Be thine thy Master’s portion,

Who found, where all seemed loss,

His Kinghood in His serving,

His kingdom in His cross.

THE GREATER DEEP.

O vast and variable Sea!

Image alike of peace and strife,—

Like that immenser mystery

Which shrouds our little life.

FAITH.

Dim mirrors are our mortal minds,

In which all truth is darkly seen;

Our only wisdom is to love,

And leave to God what death may mean.

THE GIFT.

Unhasting, yet advancing evermore,

The morning breaks, at last, on every shore;

And through the gloom, until the day-star beam,

To us Heaven grants the vision and the dream.

SONSHIP.

Adapted to infinity,

Our souls, O God, aspire to Thee;—

Created in Thy likeness blest,

In Thee alone our hearts find rest.

REALITY.

Truth is the soul’s eternal quest,—

Reality its only rest;—

Shadow for substance ne’er sufficed,—

Symbol nor sacrament,—but Christ!

INFINITY.

To confines infinitely lonely,

Extends, unknown, Creation’s shoreless sea:—

The sun itself a porch-light, only,

To the fair palace of Eternity.

UNANSWERED.

Whither away, ye argosies of Heaven,

In solemn state advancing from afar?

What mission marshals you? What chivalrous emprise

Darkens the glory of the sapphire skies?

Say, was your empire’s ancient quiet riven

With rumor ominous of distant wrong and war?

Or speed ye forth with snowy sails unfurled,

And radiant pennons shimmering in the haze,

To bring with proper pomp, to his empyreal throne,

Your monarch with his bride? he loveth her alone,

Dear daughter of the Sun, the peerless virgin world,

Long cloistered in his bosom’s brightest rays.

* * * * * * *

No answer but a deeper shadow cast,—

And lo! the splendid mystery is passed.

SELF-SENTENCED.

Though born a man, he lives a mole;

In vain for him the seasons roll;

Poor earth-worm; in a world of light,

Still deeper digging into night.

Indifferent to life and law,

He knoweth neither love nor awe;—

Askance he eyes the daisied sod,

And turns a Ghetto face on God.

With servile mind and sordid soul,

He shall not miss the chosen goal;

Though all the path with gold be paved,

He cannot from himself be saved.

A ROYAL PRIESTHOOD.

To lift and lighten the heart of man,

Was ever the Poet’s lofty plan;—

Confederate with stars and sun,

His songs their radiant courses run.

INSPIRATION.

Genius is only common dust,

Unkindled by the Breath of Heaven;—

Except God be their light and life,

Vainly the richest gifts are given.

Dark as a row of silver lamps,

Fair, all, as fancy’s fine desire,

And furnished, each, with rarest oil,

But all untouched with fire.

For noblest service, man’s first need

Is inspiration from on high;

The finite needs the Infinite,

As flower and forest need the sky.

UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE.

Faint not, though fruitless still the labor seems

Wherewith love serves the Master dear, divine;

You do not know how far it throws its beams,

The lamp which you keep burning at His shrine.

HOLD FAST THIS TRUTH.

Hold fast this truth, whoe’er thou art,

And through all sorrow take it:—

God did not make the human heart

Simply that He might break it.

For not in vain love yearns for love;—

Beyond the grave’s dark portal,

In everlasting bliss above,

Awaits the life immortal!

GLORIA IN EXCELSIS!

The infinitely High

Is the infinitely Near,—

And the infinitely Holy

Is the infinitely Dear.

A single ray from heaven—

And all is understood,—

For the infinitely Great

Is the infinitely Good.

A CONTRAST.

Stone by stone the palace grows,

Haughtily, mid dust and din;

On the garden wall the rose

Drinks the quiet sunshine in.

Stone by stone the prison rears,

Frowningly, its bars of night;—

Like a bride with love’s sweet fears,

Leans the lily to the light.

CROWNED!

With peaceful brow, and eyes beneath