'^. <* ^: ^^\F. > .^0 .•. K'. "^^^ c^^"^ ^':e<^'. ,^ .H o. ^'^^4^'^^^'" ^:la^^^ \,>, ■ ^^ ¥a^ \,,.^' • t- y\ '^w:- /% ''-mms ^'^ 'm^.' " " " ♦ o ^^ « P^! '" rf£ ."y^. auxM..d^_ CLOVER BLOOM By ADELLA LOVEJOY CURRIER 1914 THE WOODRUFF PRESS Lincoln, Nebraska T5 3^«^^^ Entered according to the act of Congress in the office of the Librarian of Congress, A. D. 1914, by Adella L. Currier, St. Edward, Nebraska AUG 24' 1914 Price $1.00, Postpaid THE WOODRUFF PRESS, Lincoln, Nebraska ©CLA87J)212 TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE Prairie Song 9 Little Boy-Blue 10 Good Morning 11 Good Night 11 Rare Moments 12 Heart to Heart 13 Child's Prayer 13 Home-Keeping Hearts 14 First Snowstorm 15 Lullaby 16 Dawn . 17 Under the Lilacs 18 Charm 19 Mother's Work 20 Be Patient 22 Spirit of the Pioneers 23 Sunny Weather 26 June's Treasures 28 July 29 To-day and To-Morrow 30 No Room for Christ 32 Recompense 33 Lure of the West 34 Thanksgiving Day 36 Youth 38 Flowers of Friendship 39 In the Twilight 40 Girl Who Works 41 Lines 42 Southern Rose 43 Consistency 43 Her Little Hand 44 Only a Kiss 44 Margarita 45 For Christ and the Church 46 Primrose Path 48 The Empty Nest 49 Minor Strain 50 TABLE OF CONTENTS— Continued PAGE Boys and Girls of Yesterday 51 Dreams 54 Star Bethlehem 55 Patience 55 A Song 56 Rose Beads 56 Friendship 57 Roses 57 Seed Time 58 Early Frost 58 Journeying 59 Two Little Dresses 59 Prairie Road 60 Life 60 Clover Bloom 61 Forbid Them Not 62 Adella 62 Prayer 63 Autumn Baby 64 When Nebraska Women Vote 65 Little Things 66 Joy 67 Mother 68 At the Gate 69 White Ribbon Bow 70 Highest Praise 70 Wild Flowers 71 Indian Summer 72 -Smiles 73 One Perfect Day 74 To my Mother, my Daughter, and my Little Granddaughter CLOVER BLOOM PRAIRIE SONG My prairie home is rude and bare, Simple my garb and plain my fare; Daily I toil from morn till eve With singing lips. Why should I grieve? No crowned queen can richer be, For Love abides with me. If all the wealth the cities hold, Of glittering gems and gleaming gold, Of stately halls and mansions fine — If this, and more than this, were mine, No beggar maid so poor as I, If Love had passed me by! Clover Hill, 1884. 10 CLOVER BLOOM OUR LITTLE BOY-BLUE Oh, what shall I do? Our little Boy-Blue Is lost, and I cannot find him! In the gathering gloom I've searched each room. But he left no trace behind him. I look through the hall and down in the stall Where Daisy is calmly feeding; The doves overhead are going to bed And the sun to the hills is speeding. In the orchard I look in each sheltered nook, Where birdlings 'neath wings are creeping; But never a sign of that wee boy of mine Who in my arms should be sleeping. His dear little feet are all bare and sweet. I fear the night wind will harm him; His dark curls hid 'neath a sun-bonnet lid, With no little coat to warm him. 1 run up the ridge and look down to the bridge — 0, dark is the canyon yonder! "Rove, Rove, come here; help me find my dear!" — Is Rover gone, too, I wonder? In his kennel I peep, my heart gives a leap. And now I am softly weeping; There with head close pressed on Rove's shaggy breast. Lies little Boy-Blue a-sleeping! CLOVER BLOOM 11 GOOD MORNING The sun peeps in and seems to say, "Good morning! How are you?" Blue morning-glory offers him a cup of morning dew. A lark sings joyously above a field of clover-bloom, And every friendly little breeze brings whiffs of rare perfume. The saucy bees are all a-field, the butterflies arrive — birds, and bees and butterflies, it's good to be alive! GOOD NIGHT "Now I Lay Me" is softly said, And wee Silklocks is snug in bed. When bending for my good-night kiss I hear the dear voice whisper this; "I love you Mama, I love you so! You're the bestest one there is, I know." "God keep thee, dear, 'till morning light;" I breathe this prayer with fond good-night. 12 CLOVER BLOOM All the cares which vexed the day, Like dark-winged birds have flown away, And in their place a snow-white dove Sings in my heart these words of love. The world has plaudits to bestow, But they are not for me, I know. A sweeter praise is mine by right Of motherhood. Dear heart, good-night. RARE MOMENTS "Another boy?" I said and sighed, "Not so! A girl!" the nurse replied. And in my arms, 0, joy complete! She laid my little daughter, sweet. "Sweet as a pink," the father said. And gently stroked the dusky head. Lightly he touched with finger tip The satin cheek and rosy lip; Then bending down, true-lover wise. The love light shiny in his eyes, I feel his tender, loving kiss — Life holds no joy like unto this! CLOVER BLOOM 13 HEART TO HEART We're walking on together Beneath a sunht sky; Should sable storm-clouds hover, We'll clouds and storms defy. E'en sorrow hath a sweetness, Pain loses half its smart, Since life holds this completeness Of walking heart to heart. So heart to heart forever, Though miles may stretch between. Space has no power to sever The ties that intervene. I have no joy nor gladness Of which you're not a part; Life holds no secret sadness. For we are heart to heart. A CHILD'S PRAYER "We thank Thee, Father, for this food, For home and tender care, 0, help us always to be good!" This is our daily prayer. 14 CLOVER BLOOM HOME-KEEPING HEARTS I hear them tell of lands afar, Where lofty snow-capped mountains are; Where streams descend in clouds of foam, To seek their far-off ocean home. They tell of ruins, ivy-grown. Of wondrous figures carved in stone. Of castles grand and paintings rare, And jewels rich beyond compare. My heart stands still — 0, can it be I, too, may cross the balmy sea? But tender eyes look into mine — I hear a voice forever dear; Though others roam the world at will. It calls, and claims, and keeps me here. I read of women brave and grand Who nobly labor through the land. Who cheer the aged, save the youth. And wield their pens for right and truth. My breath comes fast — 0, that I, too, Might help the blessed work to do! But clasping mine are fingers small, — 'Tis not for me the Spirits call. I cannot teach, I cannot write. For who would keep the hearth-stone bright? I clasp a hand that's firm and true And then I know that I am blest. I kiss each little face, and say, "Home-keeping hearts are happiest." CLOVER BLOOM 15 THE FIRST SNOWSTORM Baby May, baby, see What is floating through the air. Down from angels' wings, maybe. Floating, floating everywhere. Raise the sash a little — so; Catch one in your tiny hand. It is gone — where did it go? Baby does not understand. " It is snowing ! ' ' Little Hal Comes in breathless from his play: "Mother, may I get my sled? Guess its going to snow all day." Baby May, fair little May, Never saw the snowflakes fly. She is Summer's child, and they Are not purer where they lie. Little May, my baby dear, Storms will come if life proves long; Would that mother might be near. Shielding you in arms so strong. Please God, you may ever be Pure as you are now to-day, When you life's first snowstorm see. Baby May, dear baby May. 16 CLOVER BLOOM LULLABY The baby birds are in the nest, Under the mother's wings; She folds them close to her downy breast And croons and softly sings: "Peep, peep, go to sleep, Mother will watch and sing Through the dark night. Until the warm light. So hide your head under your wing." My baby birds are in the nest. On pillows soft and white; Gray eyes and brown eyes go to rest, Wee birdies sleep at night. "Peep, peep, go to sleep. Mother will watch and sing Through the dark night. Until the warm light. So hide your head under your wing." The baby birds have left their home, Out in the apple tree, And here and there the wee things roam. The wide, wide world to see. "Peep, peep, go to sleep. Mother will watch and sing Through the dark night. Until the warm light. So hide your head under your wing." CLOVER BLOOM 17 My baby birds, I hold them now, Close to my warm heart pressed. And softly kiss each cheek and brow, — They, too, may leave the nest. "Peep, peep, gone to sleep; God watch my dear ones' rest! Gray eyes and brown, The lids fold down, My dear little birds in the nest." DAWN Demure little maiden, So earnest and wise. With a smile on your lips And a dream in your eyes; The daisy-starred lane You have traveled thus far Leads into a garden Where rose garlands are. With a lily in hand As a light to your feet, May the roses you gather Be thornless and sweet. 0, guide her and keep her, Dear Father, all-wise. With the smile on her lips And the dream in her eyes. ^ 18 CLOVER BLOOM UNDER THE LILACS I sit in the early gloaming, still rosy with sunset glow, And dream of the home in the maples, where lilacs are all a-blow. There with my sisters I lingered on balmy evenings, until Hard by in the darkening woodland we heard the whip-poor-will. And while the pale moon fondled the little lake serene With lilacs royal purple we crowned our mother queen. Under the lilacs, the lilacs. Though far in a distant state, I still fondly dream of the lilacs That grew by the old front gate. And do I regret it ever, that to become your wife I left the home in the maples? — Your love has crowned my life. The cottage gray on the hill-top is "Home, Sweet Home," to me, And I love the boundless prairie as a sailor loves the sea. Yet, oft in the stilly twilight, when our babes are fast asleep, I dream of the home in the maples, where lilacs their vigil keep. CLOVER BLOOM 19 Under the lilacs, the lilacs, Our loved ones watch and wait To greet us with kindly welcome within the old front gate. CHARM It is not your rare beauty, love, So like a perfect flower, Nor yet your youthful grace, (Although it is a priceless dower). Nor qualities of mind and heart. So much to be desired; Not one, nor all these virtues, love, Make you so much admired. As well to try with brush to paint The perfume of a rose As tell in words your nameless charm, "What every woman knows." 20 CLOVER BLOOM MOTHER'S WORK Up in the early morning, Just at the dawn of day, Skimming the milk in the cellar, Setting fresh pans away. Laying the table for breakfast, Broiling the steak o'er the coals. Golden and fragrant the coffee, Tender the freshly baked rolls. Washing the dishes and churning. Sweeping and making-up beds, Donning of clean little aprons, Brushing the wee curly heads; Dressing a dolly for Madie, Mending Bee's broken wheel. Cleaning, and mixing, and baking, Preparing the noonday meal. Washing the dishes and sweeping. Dusting the parlor chairs. Shaking the rugs and the curtains. Doing the work upstairs; Sewing, and mending, and knitting, No moment may idle be. Molding some creamy light biscuit And laying the cloth for tea. CLOVER BLOOM 21 Weary, so weary, but happy, Thankful, and glad, and content, Knowing that heaven's rich blessings Have into her life been sent; Praying for strength to labor, For wisdom to guide aright, She kisses each dear little sleeper. And murmurs a fond "Good night." Washing again the dishes. Setting the room aright. Rocking the baby and robing Each dear little form for the night; Hearing each whispered "I lay me," Echoing softly "Amen," Wishing, perchance, for one moment That she was a child again. 22 CLOVER BLOOM BE PATIENT Be patient with the little ones, They have not long to stay; The rosy hours of childhood's days Pass all too soon away. Deal wisely with their "whats" and "whys"; There's much they long to know. How can you hope for flowers of Truth, If Falsehood's seeds you sow? Bear patiently the ringing shout And bounding boyish tread. The noisy clatter in the hall. The conflict overhead. A day is slowly drawing near When you will sit alone, And long to hear the merry laugh Of little children grown. You'll long to kiss away each tear, To hush each childish sob, And open doors for little hands Which cannot reach the knob. Then clasp them close in loving arms, Your little ones to-day; To-morrow's sun will shine bedimmed If they are far away. CLOVER BLOOM 23 SPIRIT OF THE PIONEERS 'Twas just about corn plantin' time, ten years ago last spring, Old Baldface fell and broke her leg — she was a clumsy thing — But strong and true for all o'that, she'd pull right with the best; She was my father's gift to me before I came out west. Now so's to buy another horse and build a pasture fence, (I'd bargained for a harvester and been to some expense), I had to have a little cash, and, not thinking any harm. To give security I put a mortgage on the farm. The new colt, she was skittish-like, a big, high-stepping roan, She ran away with little Joe and broke his collar-bone. She smashed the waggin' all to flints, the harness strung apart; I tell you I felt pretty blue, but Mother, bless her heart! She said we ought to thank the Lord the boy wan't killed outright. However dark the time might be, she'd find a streak o'light, 24 CLOVER BLOOM But doctor's bills and fixin' up and hirin' of a hand All cost so much I couldn't raise the mortgage from the land. "0, never mind," sez Mary Jane, "next year will do as well." We didn't raise mor'n half a crop, and what we had to sell We almost had to give away; grain was so pesky low We couldn't keep the interest up, and it began to grow. I'm sure we all worked hard enough all through the summer's heat; The interest worked hand-over-hand, a thing we couldn't beat; It kept right on through hail and drouth, and when a blizzard came It took the best chair in the house and made itself to home. It set right down among us there, and with a fiendish grin It opened up its awful mouth and bid us shove things in! We giv' it our potatoes and our corn, and oats, and wool; It gobbled down the sheep themselves, and still it wasn't full; CLOVER BLOOM 25 It took the porker from the pen, the butter from our bread, And every race I run with it the Thing come out ahead. Sez I at last to Mary Jane, one scalding August day, "We'll have to let the old farm go; there ain't no other way. We're growin' old an' gettin' gray long years before our time; I say, let's turn that mortgage out, if we don't save a dime! We'll have to have an auction-sale and sell off everythin' ; Then look the world square in the face and we'll commence agin." We've rented a small piece of ground with bildin's pretty cheap; They're only sod, but but even sod beats none at all a heap. I'm goin' to work out by the day for them as wants a hand. And soon we hope to save enough to buy a little land. We're takin' sugar in our tea, (we didn't for a spell) ; We're goin' to have a Sunday pie and make a little jell. So Mother sez, and bless her heart, before the snowflakes fly 26 CLOVER BLOOM She'll have a new print dress or I will know the reason why! I've health and strength, thank God for that ! and courage, dear old wife, You'll ride in your own kerridge yet, I swear it on my life. TWENTY YEARS LATER Come Mother, put your bunnit on, and tie it on to stay. Jest take along a little wrap, for all its warm to-day. Now Joseph, you may crank her up; I'll take the wheel. Gee- whiz! This's goin' some! I never thought to drive a rig like this. You want to take the little one? Climb in with Grandma, Lee. So long. Tell Mattie we'll be home in time for early tea. SUNNY WEATHER When you and I were young, my dear, And sunny was the weather, You and I, with friends close-by. Walked in the sun together. The buds and bees were on the trees, And birds sang gaily ever When you and I were young, my dear, And sunny was the weather. CLOVER BLOOM 27 When you and I were young, my dear, And it was cloudy weather, Beneath a shade to guard from rain We homeward walked together. Few friends to meet and few to greet. And none our ways to sever; One blissful day, when skies were gray, We pledged our faith forever. When you and I are old, my dear, If sunny be the weather. You and I, with friends close by. Will gaily chat together. But clouds may rise in sunlit skies, And rain and clouds together Will drive away friends of a day. Despite our best endeavor. When you and I are old, my dear, If cloudy be the weather. You and I will bid good-bye To fickle friends forever. Our hearthstone bright a cheerful light Will shed around us ever; Life's always sweet where fond hearts meet. And sunny is the weather. 28 CLOVER BLOOM JUNE'S TREASURES There are roses in my garden, Yellow as ripe ears of corn. Roses white and roses crimson, Roses pink as blushing morn. Roses for the sick and weary, Roses for the bride to wear, Roses for the baby's fingers. And in Grandma's silver hair. How their perfume fills the parlor, Haunts the kitchen, mounts the stair, Greets us in the hall and door-ways, Roses, roses, everywhere! Roses in the old blue teapot. In the fragile china urn, Roses in the cut-glass pitcher, Roses in the old stone churn. Let us revel in their sweetness For they'll leave us all too soon; Other months may bring fair blossoms, — Summer holds a single June. CLOVER BLOOM 29 JULY Fair summer queen, we welcome thee! Thy flowery ways of mirth and song, Thy fields of ripening wheat we see. Bathed deep in sunshine all day long. Thou holdest in thy sweet warm clasp A gem most dear among the free; Our Country's natal day thou hast. And this is why we cherish thee. We waken to the cannon's roar. And rattling musketry at dawn; The busy housewife care gives o'er. The farmer leaves his growing corn; All, all rejoice. Ring out the bells, And proudly let the old flag fly! A tale of loyal love it tells; For thee our fathers dared to die. The stars and stripes — red, white, and blue — Our children wave them in the sun; They learn to love the brave and true. And bless the name of Washington. July, queen month of summer time. Of all thy jewels, fair to see. We claim our own, the Fourth in line. And thirty still remain with thee. 30 CLOVER BLOOM TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW The day is o'er, and the sun once more Sinks all aflame to rest; "Six", strikes the clock, as I gently rock The baby upon my breast. All is so fair and free from care Our little home within; What care I if the world close by Is filled with sorrow and sin? My Love is strong to resist all wrong, And safe in our home I wait With our babe asleep, as the minutes creep, For his footfall at the gate. Just over the way fair children play With shouts of merry glee, Till up the street with stumbling feet Comes one I shrink to see. All bloated and blear, a thing to fear — The children shrink aside, — A drunken sot, the one dark blot On the beautiful eventide. As he reels along with jeer and song I muse on the curse of wine; When, all unsought, there comes this thought, Once he was a babe like mine! CLOVER BLOOM 31 Once he was pressed to a mother's breast, And she was happy and gay, As she gave him a kiss and a fond caress — But what is her boy to-day! 0, rather would I my child should die, My dearly loved boy to-night. Than live to become a slave to rum And a foe to the truth and right. There's a work for you and me to do; God help me to do my part With voice and pen for my brother-men, And the baby upon my heart. Ah, who shall say he is safe to-day? To-morrow is just ahead. And they who sleep may wake to weep For a hope forever dead. 32 CLOVER BLOOM NO ROOM FOR CHRIST No room for the maiden-mother mild In the crowded inn. The holy Child Was born in a lowly stable-cave Which shelter to sheep and oxen gave. No room in life! In death no room! They laid Him in a borrowed tomb. No room for Christ in the busy mart, No room for Him in the crowded heart; Room for laughter, for mirth, and song, Time for the dance the whole night long, For stranger and friend a welcome free, But, alas! 0, Christ, no room for Thee! My heart is an unworthy place For heavenly guest. Redeeming grace And blood from Calvary alone Can cleanse and for my sins atone. Oh, hear my eager, earnest plea! Redeeming Love, abide with me! RECOMPENSE My heart sadly ached with your sorrow. And who from tears could desist. As they bore that little white coffin Out in the soft summer mist? But few words of comfort were spoken, — Words seem so empty and vain When the heart is well-nigh broken, And its every throb is a pain. CLOVER BLOOM 33 I know that the days are lonely, And the nights are devoid of rest, When your groping arms clasp only The empty air to your breast; And the world with its petty sorrows And its joys seems a thing apart; But God in His loving kindness Will heal your broken heart. An angel of darkness, called Sorrow, Broods o'er the earth day by day, And if not to-day, then to-morrow, She will sadden some heart that was gay. The by-ways of sin are so many. So many temptations to meet; And stones are strewn in life's pathway To bruise the dear innocent feet. Take comfort, sorrowing mother, Who knows where your child might have trod? But sin and sorrow can never Touch her now, in the home of God. Though the gold of your hair may be silver, And faded your eyes' bright hue, I am sure your darling in heaven Will know and welcome you. And the years may be few or be many Before you are called to your rest. But at last you will have your dear baby. To lie like a dove on your breast. 34 CLOVER BLOOM LURE OF THE WEST We're going to leave the old sod house, so long our home, my wife, That every sod and creeping vine are dear as things of life. We leave the timber and the creek, the fields, tilled o'er and o'er. The little orchard on the hill, your rosebush by the door. We leave our youth, and health, and strength, and all our peace of mind,- The gathering 'round the fire at night, — we leave it all behind. Out of the old house, Janie, our home that has grown so dear. The homely spot where you and I have toiled for many a year; 'Twas here one fair September morn I brought you as a bride, 'Twas here our little ones were born, and here that Milhe died. It was the saddest day we knew when she was called away. And many bitter tears we shed, the wound is fresh to-day. She was a fragile baby, and the world is hard and cold — Thank God our tender lamb, tonight, is safe within the fold ! CLOVER BLOOM 35 Out of the old sod cabin — Forgive me dear! My wife, While I have you I'll not despair, I've still the best in life. Our little sons are growing tall — the West still lures me on, — We'll pack our goods and not forget your old melodeon. We'll take the wooden cradle, too, please God, some day you'll rock Your children's children in it, love, — and take the old brass clock. The prairie schooner's at the door with Sam and Bess ahead. The cushioned seat's for Mother, dear, beside the little bed. The rain? O, just a drop or two, look love! look in the west! A rainbow spanning all the sky, an omen of the best. "Seed-time and harvest shall not fail," We claim thy promise, Lord. On Bess! The schooner's off to sea with all we love on board. 36 CLOVER BLOOM THANKSGIVING DAY The grand old day of all the year Has been all summer coming here. The buds burst forth in early spring, And eggs were cuddled 'neath the wing Where in our great Thanksgiving bird Was his allotted time immured. The tender blades of corn and wheat Came springing up the sun to greet, And he looked down with kindly eye And hail and wind-storms passed them by. June came, a presence fair and sweet, And laid her roses at our feet. Yellow and crimson, white and red, With lavish hand the earth she spread. Her minstrels, hidden in the leaves Of cherry, plum, and apple trees. Flung to the air a joyous strain After each gentle summer rain; For well they know, these feathered friends. Apples mature while rain descends. Strawberries, cherries so red and sweet, Luscious blackberries and golden wheat. Thus were we blessed in every way All through the summer, day by day, And as the winter time draws near, Give thanks! Give thanks with hearty cheer! Heap high the board, good things abound, While friends and kindred gather round. CLOVER BLOOM 37 Step softly! Let us take a peek Into the pantry, for a week Grandma has stored her goodies here Against the day that's drawing near. Withdraw the curtain! See the row Of frosted cakes as white as snow! A mighty fruit cake, black and sweet. And rich enough for kings to eat; Rice pudding quaking in the mold. And pumpkin pies like molten gold; A cold boiled ham, all smoked and spiced, And only waiting to be sliced ; And here are pound cakes — no one makes Such pantry-joys as Grandma bakes! She'll beat the sponge up, feather-light, And set the biscuits over night, And in the early morning gray Get the fat turkey underway. Three juicy chickens, simmering nigh. Will come to table in a pie; A roast of beef will grace the board, And vegetables in a horde — But better than all else beside. Here Love will sit and Joy preside. Favored indeed are those who may Dine with Grandma Thanksgiving day. Then sing God's praises sweet and clear! The dear old day we love is here. In every heart let joy-bells ring, As to the Giver thanks we bring. 38 CLOVER BLOOM YOUTH Her youth had long departed When first I saw her face, Framed in soft white hair, parted Beneath a frill of lace. Time, always ruthless-fingered. Had left his impress there. Where still a semblance lingered Of beauty once most rare. I loved her; and my pleasure In olden days and sweet Often found fullest measure While sitting at her feet, Where words of wisdom, falling From lips with age grown wise, Seemed my young spirit calling To nobler heights to rise. Cool were her hands and tender To soothe a brow distressed, Or skillful aid to render A little new-born guest. She held her children's children With joy upon her breast. And they grew tall and comely E'er she was called to rest. CLOVER BLOOM 39 I sought the darkened chamber Where those whom Hfe she gave With gentle hands had placed her, And robed her for the grave. My tear-dimmed eyes beheld her — 0, miracle of grace! Age, like a cast-off garment, Had fallen from her face! 'Mid snowy lace and blossoms, In seeming sleep she smiled All peacefully and calmly As sleeps a little child Who knows not pain nor sorrow — I knew in very truth She'd found her loved and lost ones. And never-ending youth! FLOWERS OF FRIENDSHIP In Friendship's garden roses grow, And when friends new or old Their petals scatter in our path We prize them more than gold. "Pansies for thoughts" are blooming there Beside love's emblem sweet, And dainty blue for-get-me-nots For absent friends so meet. 0, walk with me, this glad New Year, In ways true friendship knows. Accepting every morning, dear, A fragrant Friendship rose. 40 CLOVER BLOOM IN THE TWILIGHT Side by side they've walked together Many years, In the sunshine and the shadow, Without fears. Simply trusting in their Guide, Whatsoever might betide — Smiles or tears. They have seen their hopes deceive them O'er and o'er; Seen their dearest treasures leave them — Gone before; But their love has only grown Through the sorrows they have known, More and more. They are resting in the twilight. Still and dim; Hand in hand they see the moonlight's Silver rim. Sweetly trusting through the night, Till the day-dawn's welcome light. Shall begin. CLOVER BLOOM 41 THE GIRL WHO WORKS The girl who works, God bless her! I see her everywhere; She smiles from desk and counter, I meet her on the stair; She's with me in the street car. Her fair face all aglow. When frosty is the morning. And streets are filled with snow. The girl who works, God bless her! The world is unaware Of all that she has lifted From hearts bowed down with care. So helpful, brave and gladsome, — A charm about her lurks Her idle sisters may not claim. God bless the girl who works! The girl who works, God bless her! And save her from the snares And pitfalls wily ones have laid To trap her unawares. 0, wisdom add to innocence When danger near her lurks, — The nation's weal depends on her. God bless the girl who works! 42 CLOVER BLOOM LINES (TO A SISTER AT ST. MARY'S) Veiled Sister, thou of gentle mien, Of tender hands and face serene. And lovely as a pure white rose, I think of thee when nights are long And eyelids fail to close. I think of that dark night of dread And fear, When life held by a slender thread, And thou wert near To minister. The long night through Thou did'st abide. And seemed in very truth An angel at my side. Sister, for thy tender care I bless thee. One boon more, a prayer, 1 crave. 0, sometimes think of me When telling o'er thy rosary. CLOVER BLOOM 48 SOUTHERN ROSE Rose of the South, in this Northern clime You long for the lilies and jessamine; You sigh for the land where the holly grows At the Christmas season, O Southern rose. Dry your tears, fair rose of the South, Smiles were made for your pretty mouth. Warm hearts beat in this land of snows With love for you, dear Southern rose. Where friends are loyal and love is true 'Tis always summer, and skies are blue. For you, dear lady, the season's cheer: A Merry Christmas, a glad New Year! CONSISTENCY I liked the "clinging vine" idea. And worked it overtime When I was young and slender. And my oak was near to twine. But now I am a suffragette, Not militant, you see. But just firm and persistent. As best becometh me. And yet, I am consistent, quite. For it has come to pass, I've grown more like a pumpkin Than a vine, Alack! Alas! 44 CLOVER BLOOM HER LITTLE HAND I held with awe her little hand, So white, with rosy finger tips. Till like a frightened little bird. It trembled 'neath my eager lips. Time came her little hand sought mine, As homing pigeon seeks its nest; While wee ones claimed their tender care And aged lives they soothed and blessed. She was my all, yet, God forgive! I sometimes, blindly, failed to press Her little thin and toil-worn hand, In answering tenderness. One day it slipped from out my clasp. Oh, God alone can understand What I would give to feel once more The pressure of her little hand! ONLY A KISS A touch of the lips, a simple thing, A promise true, sealed with a ring, A bridal morn, a world of bliss Two souls have entered through a kiss. A touch of the lips, a simple thing, But life has lost its coloring. And hearts have broken, lacking this — A loved one's fond endearing kiss. CLOVER BLOOM 45 A touch of the lips, a simple thing, But truth and right have taken wing. And honest lives have gone amiss, And bartered heaven for a kiss! MARGARITA Little Margarita Has a brow as white as snow; Her cheeks are like the roses That in our garden grow; Her teeth a string of milk-white pearls, Her coral lips between; Her eyes are bright as stars at night When not a cloud is seen. Little Margarita Has a heart as light and free As yonder silvery crested gull That flies far out to sea; And when the breezes softly blow She dons her little coat, And blithe, and warm, and safe from harm. Rides in her father's boat. Little Margarita, When the breakers loudly roar, And mad white-caps like huge snow-drifts Lie piled upon the shore Will leave her doll and childish play. And tremble with afright. Close to my breast, which knows no rest Until the boat's in sight. 46 CLOVER BLOOM FOR CHRIST AND THE CHURCH What can we do for the Master in the quiet places of life, The corners where He has placed us, afar from the scenes of strife. Others go forth to battle with the Spirit's mighty sword, And the Word proclaiming the kingdom and salvation of the Lord. The enemy flees before them, and lo, in that land afar. Where all was heathen darkness, there shines the Morning Star! To the conquering heroes' honor, their praises aloud we sing. But wo ask from our little corner, "What can we do for the King?" We can be brave when afflictions come to us one and all; We can have faith in Our Father who noteth the sparrow's fall; We can be kind to each other, and welcome the stranger-guest. For some have entertained angels, all unawares, and been blessed. CLOVER BLOOM 47 We can be silent when Wisdom speaks, and patient when storms arise; We can be gentle when things go wrong, though not very learned nor wise. All this we should do for the Master and the church we love and revere; They are only the fruits of the Spirit He expects from us year by year. There is never a day, believe me, so filled with the common cares. But brings its work for the Master, though it may be unawares. And never a day that leaves us with the setting of the sun. But leaves something we'd like to alter, or something we've left undone. The hasty words we uttered, the kindness we might have shown. The burden we might have lifted, and thereby lightened our own. Will we never learn life's great lesson, though we pass 'neath the chastening rod, That the little things in life's pathway are great in the sight of God. 48 CLOVER BLOOM THE PRIMROSE PATH She danced along the Primrose path When life seemed but a song; And many men laughed with her then To while the hours along. And Time is fleet when dancing feet And wine and mirth hold sway. But Youth and Beauty are the toll He always takes away. What woman sows, that she must reap, And sure the aftermath Of cold neglect, of dire distress, Remorse, despair, and death. Of all the men who laughed with her In rosy hours by-gone No man came near her lonely bier To lay a flower thereon. Beware! my sister, O, beware! The gilded Primrose path ! In every rose there lurks, God knows. An asp whose sting is death! CLOVER BLOOM 49 THE EMPTY NEST There was a time in years gone by, Wee ones played at my feet, while I Held one upon my knee. The house was filled all day with noise; The floor was scattered o'er with toys; My head ached wearily. There came a time my house was still; No mudstained foot prints on the sill — My longed for time of rest. My boys had climed youth's topmost stair; My girl, a woman tall and fair. Another's home now blessed. A last year's nest hangs on the bough; 'Twas filled with singing birds, but now It empty is and bare; The buds and bees have come, but still Those birds come not again to fill With song the silent air. I gaze upon that empty nest, I know God's ways are always best, But I am sad and lone. I long so for life's vanished joys, My wee girl and my bonny boys — My nestlings that have flown. 50 CLOVER BLOOM THE MINOR STRAIN Above the hum of happy bees Amid the bloom of apple trees; The merry twitter of the wren, Nest-building in the elm again; The low of cattle, well content, Kjiee-deep in clover; all the blent Sweet sounds of summer-time, I hear A moaning sigh, a-far, a-near, From human hearts who may not share The spring-time gladness everywhere. Upon the door-mat Tabbie lies With dreamy, half-shut, peaceful eyes. While two white kittens, fat and sleek. Play in and out at hide-and-seek. Among the lilac's purple spray A busy robin sits all day; While 'neath the eaves, in soft, warm nest, A brood of baby swallows rest. Fair scenes are these, yet they impart A weight of sadness to my heart. When little ones have pined and died Where homely comforts were denied. little hands that never grasp A sweet wild bloom in loving clasp ! little lives, aged without years By cold and hunger, toil and tears! My brother, can you hear their cry, And, unresponsive, pass it by? CLOVER BLOOM 51 BOYS AND GIRLS OF YESTERDAY boys and girls of Yesterday! We never can forget The little school-house on the hill, — in dreams I see it yet, Half hidden in the pleasant shade where woods and grain-fields meet, Wild flowers growing 'neath the trees and berries in the wheat. Yet, truant feet were tempted oft forbidden paths to take A-down the hill and through the gates to Schaumburg's and the lake; But Teacher stands within the door, and clingle-angle-ling, She swings and swings the old brass bell, and calls the children in. Jennie and Will, Mary and Kate, Ellen and Griff, Maggie and Mate, Lewis and Mike, Charley and John, Clara and Joe, Shadrach and Tom, Sophia, Messhach, "Bago" and Frank, Octab and Leaser, David and Hank, Clarence and Lizzie, Richard — and more — So fast I cannot name them, crowd through the school-house door. boys and girls of Yesterday! Our heads are growing white, And some of us wear spectacles to aid our failing sight; 52 CLOVER BLOOM But hearts are youthful, warm and true, and loyally akin As when we danced before the door, to Dan's old violin. Had I Aladdin's magic lamp I'd rub it with good will, And wish to meet you all again upon the school-house hill; Our favorite teacher at the door, and, clingle-angle-ling. He'd swing and swing the old brass bell and call the children in. Edith and George, Emily and Sid, Mary Jane, Ambrose, Walter and Tid, Milton, Ben, Holdridge, Jennie and Dan, Henry and Eben, Maggie Jane, Ann, Cora and Grant, Eva — and more — But not so many, alas, to-day, file through the school-house door. O, smiles and tears will mingle there, but tears predominate, When boys and girls of yesterday clasp hands o'er book and slate; For many seats are vacant now, and, while our eyes are wet. We speak of this one and of that, with tender fond regret. CLOVER BLOOM 63 Two laughing blue-eyed girls we miss, — One brown-eyed child sedate, — When death these precious blossoms culled three homes were desolate. 0, never Hope's star brighter beamed than on those brothers twain When Law and Medicine they chose renown and wealth to gain. Success was theirs; Fortune smiled; Ambition's fires were bright ;- While Youth was still their heritage they passed beyond our sight. We loved those gentle sisters three, who in life's blossom-time Were forced to break each tender tie and seek a fairer clime. And othei seats are vacant, too, — come let us smile and say They've only been promoted, while we linger for a day Or more till final grades become more adequate. And all will answer "present" to the roll-call soon or late. 54 CLOVER BLOOM Dear boys and girls of Yesterday! space holds us far apart, But Love, the magic wireless, connects us heart with heart. Though new friends may be true friends, I've found it is a rule. No friends are like the old friends whom we knew and loved in school. DREAMS I walk with you, friend of long ago. In pleasant paths like those we used to know— I see your face, beloved and lost, And clasp your hand, long crumbled into dust. You have not changed, or so it seems. As hand in hand we walk in dreams. Your hand, your little helpful hand. Is unadorned with wedding band. While girlish, hopeful wonder lies In the soft azure of your eyes. Just as of old, your face so fair Is framed in wayward gold brown hair. You are not dead. My spirit free From bonds of flesh communes with thee. My waking eyes are blinded, dear; I may not see nor know that you are near Till my own welcome dreams, repay The ceaseless longing of the day. CLOVER BLOOM 55 STAR OF BETHLEHEM Shine in the East radiant light from afar, Herald of happiness, Bethlehem star! Shine in the manger and shine on the tomb, Where thy rays lighten despondence and gloom. Shine in our lives every discord to bar, And lead thy true followers, Bethlehem star! Lead as thou led the three Wise Men of old, Laden with frankincense, myrrh and with gold. Violets, jassamine, lilies so sweet, And roses we bring to our King's sacred feet. Shine in thy glory no distance can mar, And lead us to Zion, beautiful star! PATIENCE It seems a little while ago She briskly labored to and fro, With willing hands and restless feet. Where loved ones claimed her service sweet. For all a cheery word and smile — A little while, a little while! She sits in wheeled chair to-day, A little figure, bent and gray. For her no longer toil and care, But weariness and pain to bear. With patient faith that asks no sign She trusts the Savior's love divine. And bravely bears her cross the while, With cheery word and pleasant smile. 66 CLOVER BLOOM A SONG 'Twas at the concert. By my side, White robed, bedecked with jewels rare, She sat — my love, my long-sought bride, As cold, ah me, as she was fair. "Home, Sweet Home," the diva sang. Her voice was like the song of birds; The notes through all my being rang; All the world in those three words. "Home, Sweet Home," I whispered low, "A simple cot or mansion fair. It would be ' Home, Sweet Home,' to know One's best beloved is always there." Her fair face flushed, O, glad surprise! Long had I loved, but vainly wooed. The tears stood in her starry eyes. And then I knew she understood. ROSE BEADS The roses I bring you, dearest, will not fade nor wither away; And their fragrance will last, like my love for you, forever and a day. CLOVER BLOOM 57 FRIENDSHIP True friendship is so dear a thing I hold it in my heart Above the sordid dross of earth — A holy thing apart. In close communion, warm and sweet, No need my words to weigh; You keep the wheat, reject the chaff, And send me on my way Rejoicing in your sympathy. The warm clasp of your hand Sustains me, and, though oft misjudged, I know you understand. friend, bear with me while the sun Dips in the western sky; My faults condone, mistakes forgive, And virtues magnify. O, leave me not till sun-set's gold With rose of morning blends In that fair land of endless day. Where wait our long-lost friends. ROSES Pluck for your friend life's roses now, And place a garland on her brow. She will not heed the tears you weep, Nor words of love in death's calm sleep. 0, speak them now! how vain to wait Until forever 'tis too late. 58 CLOVER BLOOM SEED-TIME The farmer is sowing his grain to-day, All over our land so fair, He rids the seeds of all noxious weeds, And harrows his fields with care. He toils for his wife, a helpmate true. His children fair to see, — God bless the sower, and bless the seed. And rich may the harvest be! We, too, are sowing our seeds to-day. The mother, sister, wife; Are we sowing the seeds of kindly deeds, Or thistles and thorns of strife? If we smoothe life's field with gentle words. And grains of love plant we. The Father will smile upon the seed. And glad will the harvest be. EARLY FROST When dark hair silvers early, as everybody knows, It but enhances beauty like frost above a rose. CLOVER BLOOM 59 JOURNEYING The little pilgrim started out Ere day began to break, To journey far, from star to star. The homeward trip to make. He knew the way so lately passed. And, smiling, seemed content to go. With bitter tears we said good-bye; Dear little son we loved you so! 0, little pilgrim, safe at home, Where many mansions be. Blazed you the trail between the stars For Father and for me? Then set a light in window bright Where we can plainly see, On our journey far, from star to star. We soon shall take to thee. TWO LITTLE DRESSES Two little dresses my babies wore, I see them through falling tears. One is so white, I fondle to-night, The other one — yellowed with years. Which is the dearer? I cannot say. Which is the nearer? I do not know; The boy far away in the world today, Or the baby under the drifting snow? Dear little dresses my babies wore, I lay them away with tears. Falling, alike, on the robe snowy white And the little dress, yellowed with years. 60 CLOVER BLOOM THE PRAIRIE ROAD We motored down a prairie road With goldenrod agleam, And passed a tiny little cot Close by a wooded stream. Old-fashioned flowers at the door, Pinks, marigold and phlox — And from the line wee dresses hung, And shirts and little socks. sister, in the tiny cot, I do not know your name; 1 know the joy that fills your life, For mine has held the same. But little dresses, shirts and socks. Which I have loved for years. Are in a little treasure box, And only washed — with tears. LIFE A little cry, a little laugh, A little play — please God— A little toil, then folded hands And sleep beneath the sod. CLOVER BLOOM 61 CLOVER BLOOM Down on the hillside playing, Mazie and Hal and Win And Bunnie, the dimpled baby, In clover up to his chin. In the cool of the early evening. They laugh and shout with glee, Happy the days of childhood. Precious the sight to see! The flowers have bloomed and faded, The birds have nested and gone. In a long unending cycle. As the years go hurrying on. Crimson and green the clover, As it was in days of yore, But the happy, laughing children. They come again no more. East wind, carry fond greetings. West wind, my love convey. Golden sun, you are setting Where some of my loved ones stay. Scattered afar, the children Who played in the twilight gloom; All but the dimpled baby — He sleeps 'neath the clover bloom. 62 CLOVER BLOOM FORBID THEM NOT "Suffer the children to come unto me:" Such was the Savior's wise decree; Yet we restrain them oft, and say, "How can the children know the way? Wisdom of years the creeds demand; How can the little ones understand? Who teaches the worm its shroud to spin? Who shows the bird just how to begin To fashion its nest, the bee its sell? We call it instinct, this miracle. May not the same impulse move the child To seek his Savior while undefiled. Trusting His gentle hand to guide The little feet in ways untried? "Forbid them not," but bring them in To the Father's house, unsoiled with sin. The race is for little feet to run. For the child turns to God as flowers to the sun. ADELLA Blue are her eyes as Nebraska skies. Like cornsilk is her hair. And her little feet are light and fleet As bird^ that skim the air. Tiny her hands, yet iron bands Are not so strong by far, For our hearts they hold with grip untold, And willing slaves we are. CLOVER BLOOM 63 PRAYER "Just to be good, and do Thy will," A childish prayer, while faith is still A child's strong faith undimmed by fear At mother's knee, while heaven is near. prayer of youth, with heart a- thrill! "Just to be good, and do Thy will." "Just to be good, and do Thy will" — The way is dark, night winds are chill, Forboding fears the heart invade. Pain-racking and weary, sore afraid ; Through trembling lips the soul cries still, "Just to be good, and do Thy will." "Just to be good, and do Thy will — " In pastures green, by waters still He leadeth me. Peace like a dove Broods over me with wings of love. Lord, through the ages lead me still, — "Just to be good, and do Thy will." 64 CLOVER BLOOM THE AUTUMN BABY Little autumn blossom fair, You are so dear, sweet-heart! From face so sweet. To dimpled feet A miracle thou art! 0, tell me, wee one in the nest. When all the rest are grown, Is mother's face and silvering hair Less dear because it's not so fair As brothers looked upon? Your answer just a heavenly smile, O little heart's delight! And a merry coo Assures me you Find everything is right. O, child of prayer and hopes fulfilled. Thy feet with gladness shod. Of our declining years the stay, (God willing) and for every day A precious gift from God ! CLOVER BLOOM ^ 65 WHEN NEBRASKA WOMEN VOTE you needn't have a fear Womankind will quit her "sphere", Which causes some men worriment they say, For she'll always know that "wife" Is the dearest name in life. And coddle you in just the same old way. She will fry your batter cakes. Make your coffee, broil your steaks, On the very latest up-to-datest plan; And when you are very good, You'll get pie and angel food, So you have no cause to worry, Mr. Man. When the little stranger guest. Nestles to her gentle breast. As has been the fashion since the world began, You will not care one iota If the mother be a voter While you kneel in loving homage, happy man ! When Nebraska women vote, And the time is not remote If every true man aids the cherished plan, You will labor hand in hand For your state and native land. And the little ones God gives you, brother man. 66 CLOVER BLOOM / LITTLE THINGS It is the little things each day Which make life sad or sweet; The little joys, the little woes, The triumphs or defeat. A song-bird on the window sill, A clover-field abloom, The first wild rose you bring me, love,- How sweet its rare perfume! A peach tree crowned with rosy bloom, A circling pure white dove, A squirrel, chattering on a branch. These are the things to love! And, once when sailing on the sea. As long had been my wish, I saw — and thought of Mandelay — A school of flying fish ! To drive along a friendly road. Where sun-flowers nod and beam, And lunch beneath the cotton-woods That fringe a tiny stream; To watch the sunset's changing hues. To hear a night-bird trill, Then journey slowly homeward In the moonlight, pale and still; CLOVER BLOOM 67 To read a little from the Book, To breathe a little prayer, To slumber calmly through the night In Love's protecting care; To sleep — 0, wondrous miracle — Sweet dreams the hours beguile. These are the blessed little things That make this life worth while. JOY 'Tis sweet to clasp my mother's hand, Above all others blest, To look into her tender eyes, The wisest and the best; To hold imprisoned in my palm A baby's tiny feet, To bathe and robe the little form, — 0, this is joy complete! And when the wee one is my own. Child of my child, so dear, 0, then the bliss cannot be told Except in smile and tear. 68 CLOVER BLOOM MOTHER O, Mother with the silvery hair, And wide clear eyes of gray, Your children find you wondrous fair. On this, your natal day. The years have lined your gentle face, 0, dearest Mother mine. But every line has added grace To that sweet face of thine. Seventy years of cheerfulness In sunshine and in rain; Seventy years to serve and bless Your own in joy or pain; Seventy years of doing good — Your life an answered prayer! 0, gentle queen of womanhood, Small wonder you are fair! CLOVER BLOOM 69 AT THE GATE I dreamed that I had wandered far, And, wearied, could not find the way, Until the schoolhouse I espied, Where as a child I used to play. With joy the well-remembered path O'er wooded hill and glen I take. Till, as the sun is dipping low, I reach the little lake. Beloved spot! I may not pause. My feet press on, the hour is late; I see the dear old home at last. And Father standing at the gate. sisters, we must travel far An unknown road, come soon or late — But Home is at the journey's end — And Father waiting at the gate. 70 CLOVER BLOOM WHITE RIBBON BOW We meet and greet thee wherever we go, A narrow white ribbon tied in a bow, Emblem of temperance, honor and truth, Help for the aged, and hope for the youth. Fraternal greetings on thee we bestow. Emblem of unity, little white bow. Shall we not praise thee in songs sweet and low, Symbol of purity, little white bow. When Shame and Poverty, Darkness and Dread, Like evil spirits before thee hath fled? Tears turn to laughter when wine rooms must go, And mothers thank God — and the little white bow. On missions of rescue pass to and fro Angels of mercy who wear the white bow. Shine in the darkness, thou symbol of light, Peace and sobriety, ribbon of white! Proudly we wear thee wherever we go. Emblem of happiness, little white bow. THE HIGHEST PRAISE Who speak about her seldom praise. The rare endowment of her mind, Nor hands well skilled in many ways. They simply say, "She is so kind." CLOVER BLOOM 71 WILD FLOWERS I have seen Nebraska highways all aflame with goldenrod; The prairies blue with foxglove, tall and fair, And little blue-eyed violets just peeping from the sod, And roses, roses, roses everywhere! I have taken waterlilies from the lake's cool, tranquil breast; With trilliums my childish hands o'erflowed, Honeysuckles from the ledges gaily mingled with the rest, While daisies starred the pleasant country road. I have seen the snowflower, glowing, red as fire above the snow. And azaleas fringing every limpid stream; Meadows, blushing in their beauty, pink with shooting stars ablow. And ladyslippers, fair as poet's dream. But the flower I sometimes dream of, and which gave me most delight, I found deeply in the virgin forest set. 'Twas the Indian pipe or ghost flower, leaf and bloom all waxen white. And my joy when I beheld it lingers yet. 72 . CLOVER BLOOM INDIAN SUMMER The noon-tide sun is warm these autumn days, Dispelling all the mornin's chill; And soft and drowsy is the haze Let down like curtains from the hill. The leaves that flutter lightly to our feet Like golden butterflies appear. 0, God is good, and life is very sweet In Indian Summer of the year! When we clasped hands in springtime, long ago. We recked not of the hardship and the toil Which we, as pioneers, must undergo To wrest a home from nature's virgin soil. The way was hard ; the summer's heat intense When drouth and burning winds combined At times, it seemed, to rudely drive us hence — We were too weary, sometimes, to be kind. The bins, while not to overflowing filled With fruit and ripened grains, hold frugal store. The farm, so long and patiently you tilled. To younger, stronger hands you now give o'er. Rest for your toil-worn hands! 0, sweeter their caress Then all the stored sweetness in the hives! Thank God ! Thank God ! Heart o' my heart, for this. The Indian Summer of our lives. CLOVER BLOOM 73 SMILES ^ All nature smiles upon thee, heart of the golden West, The birds that carol thy praises, the flowers that kiss thy breast. Butterflies on the daisies, bee in each rosy lair. And fairfaced children laughing and playing everywhere. No longer the dusky hunter stalks on the verdant plains, Gone are the beasts he hunted, the coyote alone remains. And oft in the ghostly moonlight he howls afar, anear, A requium for the Red-man, the bison, and the deer. Bread for the millions beareth thy bosom broad and warm. Emerald thy seas of alfalfa, russet thy plains with corn. The sun is smiling above thee, with all his banners unfurled, — -Nebraska! Nebraska! we love thee! Golden heart of the world ! 74 CLOVER BLOOM ONE PERFECT DAY There comes to all one perfect day When nature wears a rosy hue, And all things old seem strangely new And touched with golden ray. It came to you — a day long passed — He told the olden tale anew, With promise to be real and true As long as life should last. Or was it when your baby's eyes First met your own, and filled your breast With tender joy and sweet unrest And thoughts of paradise. Or, after years of parting pain You saw once more your mother's face; You felt her tender, fond embrace, And seemed a child again. No perfect day has come to cheer Your life, you say? If that be true Ah, then I almost envy you, For it is coming, dear! Clover Hill, 1914 S ^-v 'ill .*- -i '^, •-^^- s- s<^^ ^^-n^. V '^ -;<> xf. Aj * nO ?y" ^''^, ^ v-^^ bv ^^r^...', -^ '^0 ■-^Ni> lO- %. '^'T^^rv / HO "^W^* -."?- HO, "N^o ..v^. 1- ""-s^* ^o vO- ^ " <^'' <'. V * /% ^^^i^>^^ ^^' -"" ^^- '' .^" ..'.. % o V v- A. •f , s • • r LIBRARY OF CONGRESS iiiiiiiiiiiiiir 015 937 002 1