BOOK -BINDER, Wallach's Block, BOCKFORD, ILLINOIS. 5 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS J {,?$Tr*tr — t | UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. | ; */ / J STHE\ pRAY G OTHER POEMS. BY MARY BRAINARD. PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS: GAZETTE STEAM BOOK AND JOB PRINTING HOUSE. IS7I. r^A Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by MARY BRAINAIiD, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress. TO f |e ft* .f |», p, THIS LITTLE BOOK IS Affectionately Dedicated BY THE AUTHOR. TW PJW CONTENTS. Page. ESTHER GRAY. Memory ........ 9 Wrecked ....... 14 Pictures ........ 20 Alone ........ 26 Help 30 Ruin 38 Awakened ....... 55 Light ........ 69 Labor ........ 88 THE WINNEBAGO HUNTER Ill JEHOVAH JIRAH 133 CHRIST CARETII FOR YOU 139 BEYOND 143 THE NATION'S DEAD 146 YE MIGHT HAVE REST 149 THE SPRING BENEATH THE HILL ... 152 ORAS LUTE 154 ESTHER GRAY. X © MEMORY. NE wave-break on the long sand-stretch of time. A minor key of that most mournful hymn Which swelleth from creation to the close; The life-throbs of a heart that throbs no more, Footprints that may be seen — the feet are dust, — The labor-marks of hands which are at rest, While memory foldeth back her curtain-fold, Take thou one glance; she too will go her way.. IO ESTHE.R GRAY. Fair Summer lay a dying. Esther plucked JV white Chrysanthemum from its low shrub r "Within her girdle placing it, she said, •-Thou wilt live longer thus above my heart Than in the frost-touched garden. Die thou here.'* A tall, plain maiden, such an one as you, On crowded street, might pass without a thought, Without the interest of a second glance; But, met in country -walk or rural grove, W^ould stop to study and soon learn to love. Thought-lines, too deeply cut for that young brow, That brow too large for woman, very full, — Blonde, waving hair, just simply banded back, Just simply wound in loose and shining coil. W r hat of the mouth? No calmness; no repose; There lurks the tracery of a morbid soul diseased. MEMORY. Firmness enough — yes, rather sternly set, — The first thins: you would notice is, Unrest. What of the eyes? Why, either blue or gray, I scarce can tell, the lashes are so long, So fringe-like droop they o'er her roseless cheek. She looks as she were weary, and would close Them gladly to the earth, nor ope them more. Oh, she hath raised them ; — what a longing look ! -Now they are filling slowly with great tears. How through its prison-bars looks forth the soul! This its unuttered language: " O, for wings, — For wings to flee away and be at rest." What of the place? A home-like country scene: Rose-bushes grow profuse, and Maple trees; 12 ESTHER GRAY. An ivy-vine, with tendrils clasping two Between them, idly swinging to and fro, Like heart divided, that hath plighted troth To more than one, and so is false to both* A border of carnations, marigolds; A gravel walk strowm full of autumn leaves; Down in the tangled grass a tiny grave, A mimic marble slab, and, such is life And death. " My Birdy" written — children's work. The farm-house was a noble mansion once, 'Tis now decayed, storm-beaten, weather-browned. Down through an open window comes the drone Of spinning; silvery-toned, a happy voice Times to the steady buzzing of the wheel. Across the street there stands a wide-doored barn, And there's a farmer, rosy and sun-browned, With loaded wagon, passing down the road; MEMORY. The stir is very cheerful, now the sun Sheds over all his warm benignant smile. I wonder what did make her look so sad; The merry singer up above seems more, Far more in unison with time and place. What of the day? A dreamy, autumn hush, One of those hazy Indian-summer days; Although the night before a death-blight came, With icy hands, unrobing vines and flowers; Yet now, at noon, you might have closed your eyes And fancied you were 'neath June bowers again. Then, as they opened on the autumn haze, The gold and crimson of the Maple trees, The glimmering tinted sunlight sifted through Revealing glory never seen in June. ESTHER GRAY. WRECKED. () what a loss, when Farmer Allan Gray, Surrendered to the demon Appetite His manhood's reason and its self-control E For, underborne by that exultant fiend, vSo low, so low he sank that self-respect Let go her hold upon him, and he felt Where purity might never dare to come; Where love, unventuring, only sighed and wept. Alas! what risk as his unwary feet Ventured across the God-forbidden line! Long ere the precious ones who loved him most Knew of his fall, the tempted, yielding, fell; Though, sometimes, he in desperation stood WRECKED. 15 For weeks, and held his enemy at hay. Again to fall, and lie in his despair Dumb, like a victim underneath the curse. Once he was giant-like in iron will : Now weak and vascillating as a child. Self-cultured he had been, and, from a boy. Self-made, had risen till he won a place Among the honored and the trusted few. Still was he almost worshipped by his own. And still would little trusting children come, Smile in his nice and nestle in his arms. O wreck of manhood ! — what a noble wreck ! How seamed and wrinkled o'er his massive brow. How bowed his tall and once commanding form. How had his brown locks whitened e're their time! Once so esteemed that all his native town Upon him looked her noblest citizen ; — Now school-boys ran and hooted. "Drunken Gray!' 1 6 ESTHER GRAY. If you had whispered in Rose Emory's ear, When in her bridal-wreath and bridal-vail She plighted faith to him, these fearful words, ^A Drunkard's Wife!" — she would have flung them back In scorn; she would have bade you look upon The man who stood beside her — ah, the man! In five short years of blissful wedded love, While in calm matron-beauty by his side, And pure content, she walked, such words would then Have called from her naught but a trusting smile. But when upon the future, life had drawn A few more lessons of foreboding love, When baby Edie filled the house with glee, An awful dread gained entrance to her soul, That grew and grew, o'ershadowing the whole. O, then in anguish would her lips have blanched. And all the joy-light faded from her eye. WRECKED. I^ I've seen an oak; — among a grove of oaks, Uplifting great green interwoven arms, Whose leafless branch the still house seemed of death. There never song-bird warbled, day by day, Though southern breezes whispered love in June, Because the roots sent no earth-juices up, When down through life-cells came the call for food, I said, "'Twere better far cut down than thus *Mid life to stand a monument of death." I stood upon the river-bank to watch The drift-wood floating downward to the sea. There was the commerce-vessel sailing by, There was the pleasure-boat with joy-sails filled, The fishers' nets, the Indian's rude canoe; — But O, the drift-wood, dead-weight of the wave, Sport of the wind and tide, driven to sea. 1 8 ESTHER GRAY. I passed a garden overgrown with weeds, The nettle, and the night-shade, and the thorn; Where poor dwarfed plants were 'shamed to lift, the head. I hung my head in sympathy, and said: "Accursed the slothful whose this garden is." I from a rock gazed out upon the sea. Toward shore, wind-borne, dismantled by the storm, The old hulk of a vessel drifted by; The captain and the crew were sleeping low,, Engirt with sea-weed in their ocean bed. 'Twas over-lettered with departed hope, — That cypher, which unraveled may not be, Except by hearts which sent it forth in vain; Except by hearts where hunger unappeased vStill omaweth, like the worm that dieth not.. WRECKED. 19, O, drearier than the lightning-riven oak, More useless than the drift upon the tide, More deadly than the night-shade and the thorn, O, emptier than the old hulk floating by! Thou wreck of manhood, standing on the shore, We watch thee drifting to a shoreless sea, We know thee interwound by loving hearts, Which bleed, and break, and moan as moans the sea. The Christ-love reacheth thee his nail-pierced hand, Thy brother-man in pity casteth ropes, But fiends there are beneath to drag thee down, And demon-hands to cut away the ropes. So, dizzied by the maelstrom's rapid whirl, So, deafened by the breaker's rush and roar, Time's hour-hand strikes; — the lost soul hath gone down. From God's eternity back-echoes come, To spoiled despairing love, gone down, gone down. 20 ESTHER GRAY. PICTURES. Mid-summer, harvest-season, afternoon, Near golden sunset; and a fair-haired girl With luncheon-pail in hand walks o'er the field. Toil-wearied binders down beneath the shade, Glad of a respite, doze away an hour. The maiden and her brother saunter off And stand upon a rock beside a spring, — A spring so clear the white-winged cloud above, The willow-fringe around the water's edge, The oak-bough, and the bird upon the bough, Lay picture-like, a silent world within. "O, Esther!" said the boy, "how can I stay? Thus 'shamed I cannot lift my head in town. PICTURES. 31 Last night, with father helpless on my arm, Whose insane mutterings, idiotic stare, Pressed even heavier weight upon my heart Of mingled pain and pride, and wild desire For hiding, though it be within the grave. Then passed me Lucy and those stranger girls, A withering scorn-curl on their pretty lips," — "Not Lucy Ames," said Esther; "sure not her?" u No; but she hung her head and looked away. What have we done that cursing such as this Comes down upon us and upon our home?" She bowed in silence for a moment's space; In pearl-beads from her hands the water-drops. Fell back in crystal beauty to the spring. " See Edward, see how pure it is, and how All 'round it and beneath it is black mud. 22 ESTHER GRAY. Still it keeps pure," she whispered, " it keeps pure. To overcome this willful wayward heart, To live so pure, to live all scandal down, Are sermons I unto myself do preach; — ■ In practice falling, O, so far beneath, Between fair promises and broken vows. Last night within my soul a longing crept For social hymns and holy words of prayer. I passed that place, accursed, must needs look in: There stood our victim parent at the bar, — With trembling hand paid down his fee, a dime. I'd coin my life for gold, and give it all To bribe that man. Yes, I would be his slave If he would pour his poison on the street, And send my father home a sober man. Volcano-like within me did uprise The billowy flame of hate; — so fierce it was PICTURES. 23 To me it seemed that demons of the pit Did stir the enkindled embers, till at last J. boldly questioned God, 'Why let him live?' So I dared not go in, but turned away And walked home through the twilight cursing him." From leaden sky, slow drops the twilight down O'er trackless fields. A woman, worn and wan, — Aye, pallid as the snow-enshrouded earth, The cold white crystals slowly sifting down, Enwrapping every tree and every shrub, — Lay on her couch beside the window drawn. Her eager eyes are gazing down the road, And gathering round her lips a grieving look, — A little maiden by her mother's side. Long shadowy curls o'erhanging crimsoned cheeks, 24 ESTHER GRAY. Whose wailing sobs and bitter bursts of grie£, Awake weird echoes in that silent room; They two are all alone a little w r hile, The street-gate opens, and a haggard man Comes stumbling through the snow-drifts to the door, Supported by a fair-haired girl and boy. He bursts with curses into that hushed room Without one glance upon his dying love, — His withered Rose, his fair grief-blighted flower: Throws down himself in stupid, drunken sleep. She wept great tears upon her dying couch, She had hoped he would be himself once more, To kiss away the death-dew from her brow. She prayed, " O God, my worse than orphaned ones. Be thou their Father; they are fatherless!" Bring me the Book; my darlings open it: This pledge you see; the hand that traced these lines PICTURES. 25 Shall with the heart that loved you, change to dust— Just in the center of this Holy Book, God's precious promises on either hand, God's awful threatnings on either hand. I hoped your father would have signed this pledge^ The latest boon I asked of him on earth; That hope denied me turn I now to you : O children, write your names here under mine: And now, with hands upon this sacred Book. Vow, as you hope to meet your mother, vow Eternal purity from that foul curse, Eternal war to all the woe it brings. They dug her a grave through the drifting snows, They folded her weary hands over her breast. So the earth sods fell, and her ears were closed To the winter winds and the earth's unrest. >6 ESTHER GRAY. It is well, it is well; e're the soul wears out, Like the heart and the hand, and the tear-dimmed eye, E're faith into weariness, waste, and doubt, Drift to her ruin, 't is well to die. ALONE. The worse than orphaned children, in their grief. Their bitter lot of toil, together clung. Unequal to his tasks, young Edward grew Slender and tall. His school-days passed away All unimproved, and heart-hopes unfulfilled Upon him pressed, an incubus of woe. But happy Edie was the joy of home, ALONE. Z"J The sweet-toned singer of the room above, Whose bird-like trill kept time to spinning-wheel. Edie.? That means the gleam of sunshine bright : Edie? That means the rill-song of the vale: The bird that warbleth all the solemn night; The honey-bee that gathereth all the day. She paled in terror at her father's tread, Awhile uncomforted for mother mourned; But e're she knew it, came again the song, And fairy laughter, ringing through the house. *T were w r ell there were more sunbeams in the world : Too much we brood o'er that we cannot change; We read " Cast all your care upon the Lord," We lay our burdens at His blessed feet; AVe lay them down, then take them up again. This world is full of burden-bearing ones, JSad-browed disciples at the Master's feet; >8 ESTHER GRAY. Bereaved saints, up-gazing through the clouds, Who, weeping, would recall their risen Lord, That He may stand and multiply their loaves. There is another class of human mind Always, always alone, like mist-clad wastes, — Like wilderness of untrodden solitude, Like solemn twilight of some island cave, Filled only by the ocean's wash and wail; Like storm-tracked billow, and Sahara's sand. Earth's nearest friendships have but paced around The outer circle, while their lights have shone But little way to center loneliness. No ray can reach the inner temple-shrine Till faith shall kindle up its altar fires. 'T is terrible, this utter loneliness. Is not this why so many walk in shade? Do not we see it in their absent eyes? ALONE. 29 We know it as we pass them on the street; We feel it in the pressure of their hands; Conscious our greeting reaches not the heart. Earth-love enfolds them, but it warms them not. Wealth flings his jeweled mantle over them; What comfort hath it? It but weigheth down. Fame lays her praise-wreathed crown upon their brows ; What magic hath it that can banish pain? Mirth reaches forth his hands to revelry, Till wailed forth be the wise man's bitter cry, "'Tis vanity of vanities." No charm Hath earth to cure the spirit's loneliness. O soul, doth my words reach thee? Ask Christ in; That niche unoccupied w T as left for Him. No other stone will fill, no other can. Thou and thy need may be in Him complete. 30 ESTHER GRAY. The care that came on Esther from a chilcf T (rave her a nature womanly and still, Drew 'round her heart and life a proud reserve. "•While such a parent walks these streets/' she said. "What joy-companionship hath earth for me?*' Upon her stronger will-power Edward leaned. The wise love-gruidingr of a sister soul. For mother's sake, all daughter's duties were, Without complaint, most tenderly performed. HELP. Among the reapers, one was called to rest Whose harvest-sun dipped slowly to the sea Of gold, far down upon the western sky. Old and beloved, and full of useful years,, HELP. 3 1 And blessing-crowned, he passed to his reward. Another pastor came to them, heaven sent; A faithful under-shepherd of the Lord, With talent consecrate and love matured. Long years before, this man and Allan Gray Had been acquaint, in dear old college days. Their lives, sun-mirrored streamlets side by side.. Went murmuring awhile, in unison sweet. Then, Moorland-wastes and lonely, tangled wilds Spread out between them, taking each his way, Through separate sea-floods to the ocean wave. Upon the street they met, and face to face Gazed for a moment in each other's eyes, Each feeling memory's fount most strangely stirred. Then Allan Gray, with wondering cry of pain. Fled from him, as one flecth from a ghost 32 ESTHER GRAY. That backward bringeth from the buried past The old familiar features of the dead. 'Twas told him that Rose Emory did sleep; The Rose of his first love. He would have made That dear one heart-companion of his life. He loved in vain. He laid his joy-dreams by And walked alone, save that he walked with God. Alone was Esther Gray; 'twas nearing noon: She with her morning tasks all cleared away, Bathed in the winter sunshine, musing sat In silence long. She had not suno; of late. It seemed the song-bird of her life had fled In sorrow's ice reign from their death-robed bough. For hours she pondered soul-tossed and depressed, With inner questionings, " O, what is life ? HELP. 33 And why this wearing, trying life for me ? " The fountain of her tears did seem so full, So near the surface, ready to o'erflow, If but by chance a pebble should be thrown Its tiny wavelets marking in the soul. A shadow fell athwart the sunlit wall, Within the door, ajar, the stranger stood. *' Forgive me, maiden," said he courteously, **They said my old friend, Allan Gray, lived here." A conscious flush suffused her cheek and brow; i4 He is my father, sir," she simply said. Her hand he clasped; " And you his daughter are. I thought I read his features in your face. I knew 3'our mother in her sweet girl-days, And would prolong the friendship to her child." This mention of her mother was too much. 34 ESTHER GRAY. Down, past the flood-gate of her self-control",. Did passion's swollen torrent force its way. " Thank God, thank God, my mother is at rest,"" And if I dared I gladly would die, too. What hope-star is there on our sky of gloom; How can we rise from under this dark cloud:, How nice this world of utter heartlessness ; How crucify this bitterness of soul? For those who wear the look and garb of men.. Yet busy at the tempter's damning work, Drag down the one who should be our support. See other girls, who have a father's care; vSuch peaceful homes, such gleeful, careless hearts. Once, years ago, I too, had hopeful dreams, Upreaching into glorious womanhood. O, I would be so noble and so good, So pure, so true ; and glad all hearts should be HELP. 35- That in the world I lived, and lived to bless. Air castles fallen; O, how soon they fell! And now not even castles in the air Lifts from the level of this stagnant gloom." The pent up grief of long despairing years In silence brooded o'er, now finding way. Forgetting they had never met before; Unheeding when he kindly, wisely strove To check her passionate vehemence, till Subdued and trembling sank she on a chair, Sobbing as deeply as if every burst Would rend from breaking heart its hold of life. lie stood beside her, gently with his hand Put back the moist hair from the swollen brow. That good man, well acquaint with grief, had ne'er Forgotten how its weird and wintry blast 3*> ESTHER GRAY. Swept all his younger years with violence, When cherished hopes and cherished joys went down ; When low, dusk vapor shrouded starry skies, And clasped the midnight billows in its fold. ** Poor, 'wildered, straying lamb," he softly said, "Thou know'st not half the tender Shepherd's care. He leaves the enfolded flock and seeks for thee, On cold, dark mountains of thine unbelief. Like Judah's captive maidens, thou hast hung By far Chaldean wave thy tuneless harp, All broken and unstrung, thy harp of praise. I tell thee, child, the Healer hath a balm, The great Physician hath a cure for thee. There's resting in the heart that broke for thee. There's shelter in the folding of His love." For her and tier's the pastor knelt in prayer. Till heavenly peace fell on the tempted one, HELP. 37 As if she touched the Master's garment-hem. She rose and smiled. Then in his hand she placed Their time-worn treasure, mother's pledge and vow. She said " Remorse so sits upon his soul, Remorse and ruin, we have never dared To place this Book before him, never dared Within his hearing mention mother's name.' " My child," he said, " shall we not kindly try By patient counsel and by every means To save your father, my poor early friend? Tell me your heart, as you have told this day, But, O, be sure you tell it to the Lord, Who giveth wisdom and upbraideth not." ^S ESTHER GRAY. Nor filial love, nor friendship's holy charm Could turn the fallen from his cup of woe. I told you there were fiends to drag him down, And demon-hands to cut away the ropes; I told you hearts with love-chords interwound Must hleed and break and moan as moans the sea. RUIN. Came May, the bridal month of all the year, With soft, slow breezes burdened with perfume, When still, deep azure ocean overhead, Was so intense, so blue, the gazer lost Himself in measureless infinitude. How eyes did love to linger on the green, The shaded green of meadowland and trees, ruin. 39 And on the violet-dotted river-bank. How robins sang among the apple-boughs, And bride-like cherry-trees — fair rivals they — How tulips grew enamored of the sun, Whose gold and crimson burned into their hearts. How to and fro her incense censer swung The lilac, with her paly-purple buds, Till every garden was a paradise, And every woodland was a scene of joy. •O, what a time for sorrow most of all ! I dally, for I dread to touch the woe That on the children fell those sunlit days, As Arctic travelers dread the ice-locked seas, As prisoners pace 'round the dungeon door, As summer hearts dread autumn chill and blight. Still prate I of blue sky and budding earth; Of bird and bee-song rill, and blossom-bough. 4 o ESTHER GRAY. So does misfortune linger not but come Surely as time on his uplifted wing, Not hastening, and making no delay, Grief's Juggernaut — o'er-riding bleeding hearts. And did not joy-crowned summer say to grief„ " Fold thy dusk wings until my reign is past, Bring not thy wailing into my May-days ! " Then grief made answer, " I His servant am. I bring thee love-gifts, precious, hidden gems. Upon my brow He placed a star-set crown, And sent me forth to bless the sons of men.'" 'Twas Sabbath sun-set, stilly, golden-hued; And they had been alone since early dawn- Beneath the maple shadow Esther leaned, Beneath the vine-clad porch the children sat; Above their mother's Bible murmuring low. RUIN. 4 1 The Sabbath silence brooding o'er the earth, Had hushed to quietness, like blessing-hand. Of holy words, together read, they talked; These words: "I know that my Redeemer lives; Shall in the last days stand upon the earth." And then of mother's heavenly home and joy, Asking each other which should meet her first. And then, breeze-borne, the soft-toned evening bells, And then, the grove-bird's night-song trilling out. Half whispered Edward, and his blue eyes filled With tears of longing love, " O, I could die To see my precious mother once again, To feel her good-night kiss upon my brow." Alas! can pen of mine depict the scene, The last earth-pang, the wasted life-hours close, When, in the very vortex of the pit, I ESTHER GRAY. He feels the flame unquenched within his souIT When, through each quivering heart-nerve ringeth out His closing knell of doom: too late! too late! All they who knew Gray best had feared this long; And he himself had feared it in the hours When he, unstupefied by drink, could fear. For often, in the silent, awful gloom Of sleepless nights, his aching, unclosed eyes, Saw hideous forms imprint upon the wall, In white, weird moonbeams, which he knew were not, Yet, with warped vision, could not choose but see. For, if he closed his eyes they were imprint Upon the image chamber of his brain, Till terror-driven, he tried, and tried to pray. But treacherous memory gave no words of prayer; Not e'en the child's prayer learned at mother's knee; Though it did seem the name of Christ would drive RUIN. 41 Those haunting visions from his sight away. Alas ! his lips with cursing long profaned, And parched by torturing thirst, had not the powei- • Ere sunrise, he that morn had wandered out Into the dewy freshness sweet and cool, Among the early bird-songs of the grove, Among the dawn-gold glimmering on the leavei, Yet heard he not, yet saw he not: — His brain Was filled with phantoms of disgusting things. O'er moss-clad rock the poison viper crept; Among the daisies slimy serpents hissed; Out-shutting azure sky were dusk-winged bats. Thus was it that a paradise was changed To hell, because hell reigned in his own soul. O, God ! what thrills of joy, what pangs of woe, Are souls of men created capable! 44 ESTHER GRAY. A kind of instinct led him to the haunt Of his old revelings, a thought confused, To find relief in his accustomed dram. His vision would re-clear, re-string his nerves. "Vainly the Sabbath sun did pour a flood Of radiant beams athwart that dingy room; Vainly the morning breezes, spring-perfumed, Crept in among the fumes of filth and sin. Flushed with last night's debauch, the keeper stood Behind his bar, his own best customer, Stood glass in hand, as Gray came tottering in. •'Give me some brandy, give it to me quick!" •'First show me, have you wherewithal to pay?" •'Dare not deny as you desire to live!" Spake Gray, all hoarse with passion and desire. The keeper caught his bloodshot eye and quailed. The new gilt-lettered sign above his door. The frenzied parent realized his deed, All fury over; horror stricken sank, Nor uttered he another word in life. Sometimes in death's convulsions struggling, Anon the life-tide seemed to ebb away, Away beyond the mist-folds shutting out The future from our ken; away, away; Till as the beast he died, without a hope. A ruined soul! Well might the heavens hang Their high-arched dome with blackness, and the earth* Put her fair bridal robes aside, and clothe Herself in sackcloth. A lost soul! Canst thou Count out its cost in precious gems and gold, Compute the interest through eternity? Conceive 'mid radiant beings round the throne- O ESTHER GRAY. The glorified existence it hath lost? Can'st tell us how the mind-powers might expand. The deep thought-faculties might grow and grow? Can'st map out heaven's dominions so that we May realize their beauty and their bliss? Unmask God's cypher and unseal His book, And bid us gaze on fair foundation stones, The jasper, topaz and the emerald; Enter beyond the gates of pearl, and stand On golden streets, enwrapt in temple-light? Or, who hath sent us back a warning word, Of banished souls who crowd the pit of woe, Whose bitter, wailing echoes, reach us not; That death-knell sounding with these awful words: "Ye knew your duty, and ye did it not?" In vain; the curtain never, never lifts. ruin 5 r And it is well. I would not peer beyond, To be unnerved for life's stern duties here; My watching, trusting trial-hours here. Two coffins side by side in that still room — The murdered, the rum victim, side by side. For not more surely Edward's early life By violence cut oft' in early prime, Than was the father's, sacrificed by law. -A murderer, licensed and upheld by law, Not only slew the body, but the soul. O, the sin-poison that destroys the soul! All gazers, gazing on this coffined face, Turned shuddering from the awful look it wore. Those anguish lines were never smoothed away Or softened into quietness by death. 52 ESTHER GRAY. Nor durst he print a lie-smile on those lips, Not e'en the poor, faint glim'ring of a smile. Few faces of the dead are seen without A calmness, like the storm-lull quietude, Which preacheth to the passion-heaving breast, Distilling tear-showers, and the sobbing wail, The rising grief-billows, " Be still, be still." But this face said: " Wail on, O, burdened heart. Beat, beat against thy prison, beat and break." It said : " Fold, fold thy dove-wings, holy faith, For hope is dead, and love, and murdered joy." It said: "Flow on, O, bitter, briny tears, Ye may not over-wail the ruined soul." The other was so sad, a full young brow, All seamed with ghastly marks of violence; A look imploring, pitiful, congealed ruin. 53 Around the lips whose pleadings were out-crushed, Aye, swiftly silenced by vindictive death. Hands clenched, as if in agony, and eyes Half closed, as looking up reproachfully With questioning gaze to every human face; And over all, the cold white of the tomb Enfolding, vail-like, its mysterious fold. O, wasted life! My pen had traced these words, And then I paused, for oftentimes a soul Hath risen ere its noon from flaming pyre, Through seas of blood, from dungeon's deepest shade, And left behind the seeding of a field That after harvest waveth into gold. And oftentimes a life of four-score years This parting word hath wafted back to earth In woe-tones of regret, "Unprofitable!" Truth's noblest harvests were the victory-fields 54 ESTHER GRAY. Of death, whose soil by blood enriched, and tears^ Hath to perfection brought an hundred-fold. Without, the day mocked on in festive green.. And, as they bore them o'er the velvet sod,, Star-gilt by butter-cups and dandelion, Fair apple-blossoms fell like snow-flakes down., Like tear-drops on the black pall of the dead. Beneath the silence of the summer sod, Grave-hidden, both the parent and the son. With mother's bed, the violet-decked, between.. In after years those sweet spring violets Spread over two, and one was blossomless- Was it a curse? AWAKENED. 55 AWAKENED. Have you not wakened from some fearful dream In haunting stillness of the midnight hour, Felt dim, and undefined, and uncontroled, Lost vision-spectres roaming through your soul? The dream forgotten, but still near the woe; And all around you in death-semblance wrapped, Each quick, hard heart-throb beating down your breath, Great drops of agony upon your brow? I ask, have not you wakened in the night Trembling and faint from half-forgotten dreams? You clasped the peaceful sleeper by your side In closest fold, and so the even beat ">6 ESTHER GRAY. Of that warm human heart calmed down your fear Or, were you all alone, you rising went And sought companionship beneath the stars. But, O, they were so far, so far away, And looking down so distant and so cold, As if your life with all its hopes and fears AVere nothing, nothing but a single grain In some great wilderness of shifting sand; An atom only in the sunlight seen; The tiniest insect of the summer day; Your life in time's great cycle but an hour. You wandered out among the garden flowers, But they had closed their petals when the sun Shut down his golden gateway in the west. Nor did they, as by day, smile back your smile, And every one seemed weeping in its sleep, AWAKENED. :>/ For, tear-like, Jew-drops weighed upon each leaf. The night-wind sobbed and sighed among the trees, The river-song seemed sadder than by day, Sweeter and louder, sadder than by day; From sombre woodlands half a mile away, The night-bird sent his solitary cry, Strange, mystic word-call of the whippoorwill. Found you companionship among the flowers? Thus, failing in earth-sympathy, you knelt. With thought turned inward, circling your own soul, And prayed, " O, Father, thou who art in heaven ;" And then in faith. * w O, Father of my soul!" Then, as praver-struggle deepened into power. Your heart cried "Abba Father!" and the word Intensified its tone of tenderness. As you in spirit felt His presence thrill. 58 ESTHER GRAY. His Holiness, as a bright flame of love Enfolded you in glory and in warmth, Above the seraph His Shekinah stood. In vision you beheld It leave the throne. And hailed Its coming. C), ye orbs of light, This atom of existence shall live on When your frail glories fade and pass away. O, earth, our birth-place, sepulchre, and tomb. This be thy spoken doom : " Reserved for fire.'* Not from thy breast immortal soul-life sprang: Its source was God, to God shall it return. When from her death-like swoon the girl awoke. Remembrance tarried, reason lay dethroned. Bewildering fancy led her day by day, Crowding the brain with strange, disjointed things, That w r heeled before her vision like a dream. AWAKENED.