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THE PRESS CF 
 
 BEN F. BILITER, 
 
 HUNTINGTON, IND. 
 
shrCrwVV arrv^TiTJWJ. 
 
HeURS IMPR0VED 
 
 POEMS 
 
 yBY 
 
 J. D. MERRIMHN 
 
 HUNTINGTON, IND 
 
 MERRIMAN BROTHERS 
 
 I 89 I 
 

 r? 
 
 ^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 By J. D. MKRRIMAN. 
 
 1S91. 
 
J. D. Merriman's Poetical Writings: 
 
 Wilbur," and "Summer Pastimes and 
 Winter Pleasures," 
 
 WILL SOON BE READY FOR THE PRESS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 VARIED THEMES. 
 
 Introduction . . . . . . i 
 
 Life ....... 4 
 
 The Indian . . .17 
 
 The Sunshine ...... 23 
 
 Don't Fear a Big No . . . .25 
 
 The Drummer's Storj- ..... 27 
 
 To a Violet . . . .31 
 
 Ode to the Rain ..... 32 
 
 True ....... 35 
 
 A Ueautiful Picture ..... 42 
 
 Uncle Hiram, to the Eoy who Mocked at Him . . 47 
 
 Uncle Hiram, to the Truant Boy ... 51 
 
 POEMS ON vSPECIAL OCCASIONS. 
 
 The Separation . . . . . -59 
 
 The Class Poem ..... 65 
 
 School Day Greeting . . . . .76 
 
 Time ....... 80 
 
 THE SEASONS. 
 
 Spring ....... 87 
 
 Summer ...... 97 
 
 Autumn ....... 107 
 
 An Autumn Day . . . . . 117 
 
 Winter ....... 122 
 
 OTHER THEMES. 
 
 The Dutchman and the Gun .... 135 
 
 Uncle Hiram, to the Boj' who Swears . . . t39 
 
 Uncle Hiram, to the Boy who Chews ... 143 
 
 Uncle Hiram, to the Boy who Drinks . . . i47 
 
 The Soldier Bey . . . . • 151 
 
 Death .....•• 171 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF THE YEAR iS88. 
 
 THESE POEMS ARE RESPECTFULIvY 
 
 DFCDICATED TO MY CLASS 
 
 MATES AND FRIENDS. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 To him who has a thoughtful mind, 
 For prose and poetry inclined, 
 We furnish here a modest train 
 Of thought, profusely from the brain, 
 And hope that it will call some scene 
 Of former days to come between 
 His sorrows and the little time 
 He takes to read this humble rhyme. 
 Indeed, the minds of men are made, 
 The fields of knowledge to invade. 
 They move in channels much the same 
 To reach the temples of high fame. 
 Where countless lights have vainly burned. 
 While some by greater force were turned 
 Into those mighty rolling flames, 
 That brought high honors to their names; 
 
2 Hours Improved. 
 
 That spread before them far and wide, 
 
 Unbounded glory on the tide 
 
 Of public trust, and public will, 
 
 Where faith and hope are resting still/ 
 
 Now we, to all the human race. 
 
 In every clime and every place 
 
 Will give you rest for half an hour, 
 
 If you will seek some shady bow'r 
 
 With 1)ook in hand, bound to peruse 
 
 This product of an untrained muse, 
 
 It never could in any age 
 
 Content the poet or the sage, 
 
 To put a padlock on the brain 
 
 For they were born to entertain 
 
 The old, the young, the rich, the poor. 
 
 Relieve distress and evil cure. 
 
 If other friends were hard to please, 
 
 They pleased themselves with perfect ease. 
 
 Then patient reader, leave your care. 
 
 And spend what time you have to spare 
 
Introductio)i. 
 
 lu full enjoymeut of this book, 
 
 With happiness in every look. 
 
 Our anxious aim is, here, to please 
 
 The lover of delightful ease. 
 
 And all those souls to reading born, 
 
 At joj-ful eve, or luckless morn, 
 
 And those who long for words of love. 
 
 Unchanging as the God above. 
 
 We importune you one and all, 
 
 Let not despair augment the fall. 
 
 Of brighter hopes, which buoy you up, 
 
 To drink from pleasure's brimming cup. 
 
 Just leave the past with all its woes. 
 
 Its chilling winds and freezing snows, 
 
 And drink the author's great delight, 
 
 Which now appears before your sight. 
 
Hours Improved. 
 
 LIFE. 
 I. 
 
 Who knows the secret art that gives us life, 
 
 Or Ists us live through fields of blood and strife, 
 
 While all around compauions faint and fall, 
 
 In their assault on time's unl)roken wall. 
 
 From childhood's cradle where our minds begin 
 
 To act in concert with our souls within, 
 
 We grow each moment by unchanging laws. 
 
 But of our growth no man has found the cause. 
 
 We help promote the welfare of the race 
 
 Or iu its fall must see our own disgrace. 
 
 But childhood ends and leaves a stronger growth. 
 
 Childhood and youth; we look and smile at both. 
 
 11. 
 What fancies tend to drive the youthful brain, 
 Like untried .ships upon a storm-tossed main, 
 
Life. 
 
 This way aud that until the time has come, 
 
 For reason in its folds to find a home, 
 
 And reason at the judgment door of youth, 
 
 Unlocks her treasure with the key of truth, 
 
 Since truth should be the watch-word of the young, 
 
 A constant guide for every mother's tongue. 
 
 III. 
 The duties that surround u$ year by year, 
 Will waft our minds into another sphere, 
 Where youthful idols that were incomplete, 
 Will bloom in honors rich and full, replete 
 With fragrance by intelligence unbound. 
 And left where superstition once was found. 
 
 IV. 
 How many days we spend in weary toil! 
 How oft from patent duties we recoil! 
 How much, when truth would wound a noble heart, 
 We long for falsehood to assume her part! 
 But then we must not let a thought so base 
 Good precepts from our anxious minds efface. 
 
6 Hours Improved. 
 
 Indeed we need a brighter, fairer name 
 To lead us onward to the heights of fame, 
 Than we can gain by overlooking truth, 
 In minor actions that abound in youth. 
 
 V. 
 Now, let us step into the open air 
 Of right and scent the fragrance resting there! 
 On looking forth before our wond'ring eyes, 
 We see the beauties of existence rise. 
 And in their splendor there is much to know 
 Which would alleviate oppressing woe. 
 
 VI. 
 Swift moments really constitute a day; 
 Mouth after month is moving on its way; 
 A few short years upon this rolling ball, 
 Our souls must answer to dame nature's call; 
 Our frames again must crumble into dust, 
 Ivike iron bars that yield to time and rust. 
 Yet naught is lost whatever be our fate 
 Let this proud thought our parting souls elate. 
 
Life. 
 
 Though every atom nioviug ou its way. 
 May moulder iuto cold aud sileut clay, 
 lu countless living forms it may be found 
 Before old time shall check its useful round. 
 Then let us strive to do to every man, 
 That which is good and aid him if we can. 
 
 VII 
 
 When evil comes with her uncanny hand. 
 
 To conquer men and devastate the laud. 
 
 She touches all and leaves not those alone 
 
 In royal purple on a kingdom's throne. 
 
 She drags her victims from their high estate, 
 
 Aud brings fell ruin uuto small and great. 
 
 Those who are poor she makes more wretched still. 
 
 All meu alike must bend before her wUl. 
 
 We hear her knock and in the dead of night 
 Our fortui-ies plume their wings and take to flight. 
 
 In tongues of flame and wreathes of sable smoke 
 Misfortune gives to us her deadly stroke, 
 
8 Hours Improved. 
 
 And leaves us to the rough stern hand of fate, 
 
 Whose unrelenting anger we berate. 
 
 Yet in our grief we see worse wretches still 
 
 Who ijow with resignation to the will 
 
 Of Him whose hand we see in every shade 
 
 That tints the leaves and blossoms He has made. 
 
 Then let our hearts be ready when distress 
 
 Shall come to us in all her wretchedness, 
 
 To lift a hand to stay the grief and pain 
 
 Which sin has set on nature's broad domain. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 There's none so poor but that their hands may aid 
 
 The fallen wretch whom passion has betrayed 
 
 And led into the depths of conscious sin, 
 
 Which makes a wreck of what he might have been. 
 
 But others who are striving to be true, 
 
 Sink lower as misfortune comes anew; 
 
 Kind spirits, which the faithlessness of friends 
 
 Have led to ruin, to secure their ends. 
 
Life. 
 
 Aud as they slowly siuk before their eyes, 
 A mocking laugh engenders dumb surprise. 
 Such need encouragement to cheer them on, 
 Aud fire anew the courage almost gone, 
 A look, a smile, a word or helping hand 
 May place their feet upon the solid laud. 
 Would you refuse a look or word of cheer, 
 Which gives them hope and banishes their fear? 
 With hope their courage may revive again, 
 And find new pleasures with their fellow-men. 
 
 IX. 
 
 We wander forth into the open field. 
 Where every plant has carefully concealed 
 The germ of life, remote from sight, to build 
 New structures when this mission is fulfilled. 
 The morning air that whistles through the trees. 
 Brings show'rs of leaves that dance upon the breeze. 
 The sparkling dews that on the grasses lie. 
 Reflect the flashing beams of early day; 
 
JO Hours Improved. 
 
 Among the trees are flocks of tiiiy birds, 
 The plain is covered with its grazing herds; 
 The joyous songsters, warble forth their lays, 
 To smiling nature and to nature's praise; 
 The cattle on the plain with pleasure feed, 
 Oblivious to mankind's most daring deed; 
 All nature smiles to see this sweet content 
 Upon the earth and in the firmament. 
 
 X. 
 
 Eternal music rolls from sphere to sphere, 
 And tones of melody acquaint the ear 
 With ringing phrases of unchanging love, 
 That rules the universe and worlds above, 
 While planets, bound in perfect harmony. 
 Keep pace with Heav'n's surprising minstrelsy, 
 Whifth is too grand for man to comprehend 
 Till death has brought him to a favored end 
 Of mortal sorrow and of earthly woe — 
 His born companions here below, 
 
Life. 1 1 
 
 Where grief and paiu afflict the living frame, 
 
 And men with patience bear the stamp of shame, 
 
 Which place upon weak mortal's withered sense 
 
 The fear of some eternal recompense, 
 
 That they must give for yielding to desire 
 
 In which their hopes, their loves, and lives expire. 
 
 XL 
 
 If I were gifted like the Roman gods, 
 Or held the magic wands and mystic rods, 
 That fabled priests and prophets used to hold. 
 All things I touched would yield a hundred fold. 
 To bless the faithful hand and thankful heart 
 That gives to saving grace a better part. 
 No tale of love where lovers prove untrue, 
 With scores of trials that their hearts pass through. 
 Would reach the ear, or show its vicious face 
 Among the crowds that laugh at foul disgrace. 
 But I would pause to wave my magic wand. 
 And peace and happiness should rule the land; 
 
12 Hours Liiprovcd. 
 
 All maids that loved with lovers would be blest; 
 
 No jealous fears should e'er disturb their rest; 
 
 No hopeful lover would be made to feel 
 
 That he had lost an augel like Lucile; 
 
 No houest man or maid should ever die 
 
 For want of love my magic could supply. 
 
 No husbands e'er would turn from faithful wives 
 
 To ruin all the sweetness of their lives, 
 
 By sipping at the sparkling cup of wine, 
 
 In which the frightful serpents of the vine 
 
 Are hissing poverty and ills and death 
 
 At every expiration of their breath. 
 
 No pestilence or dread catastrophe 
 
 vShould come to men on land or on the sea; 
 
 No foul diseases should attack the brain 
 
 To ruin hopes to which their hearts attain; 
 
 No evil thoughts should dwell in human minds, 
 
 And grpce would kiss the lips that beauty finds; 
 
 All would be sunshine, peace, and love and rest, 
 
 And earth would be a dwelling for the blest; 
 
Life. 13 
 
 If such a subtle pow'r to me were given 
 
 This earth would be to man a matchless heav'n. 
 
 XII. 
 
 We turn once more to earth and look around 
 
 To see what beauties on her breast are found. 
 
 The little 1)rook that chatters ga5dy by. 
 
 Is kissed by gentle breezes as they fly, 
 
 O'er meadows to the fields of ripening grain, 
 
 Where they will pause to kiss the stream again. 
 
 While gazing thus, with flushed and steaming face 
 
 We long to flnd some cool and grassy place, 
 
 Where resting on a soft green mound of earth, 
 
 Our thoughts confound the minds that give them birth, 
 
 As in deep cogitations of the brain, 
 
 We visit fields of sadness o'er again; 
 
 Theii as our hearts, once more with joj-ous bound, 
 
 Leap to the beauty that we see around, 
 
 All nature in her sweet tranquility 
 
 Brings thoughts of peace and immortality. 
 
14 Hours Improved. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Life is too short to long lie idling here, 
 Since -.ve must work with heart and soul sincere, 
 If we would hope to gain a noted place. 
 Or make a name which time cannot efface. 
 From tablets that record the deeds of men 
 Nor perish with the products of the pen. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The work and pain which strew our rugged path 
 
 With bitter thorns, are emblems of the wrath 
 
 Of outraged nature, and the lot of man. 
 
 And were ordained when first the world began; 
 
 At least some men advance this knowing creed 
 
 That God has planned and man mnst do the deed. 
 
 If this be true, our own poor wills are bound 
 
 By that of God, who foreordained the ground 
 
 On which we build our characters. 
 
 Have we no plans? Have we no right to choose? 
 
 Is God to blame for all that men may lose? 
 
Life. 15 
 
 Why is it that our journe3S in this life 
 
 With unexampled accidents are rife? 
 On every side misfortunes here abound, 
 And awful scenes of dire distress are found. 
 
 XV. 
 
 We must be ready when we hear the call 
 To drive our foemen from the yielding wall. 
 Ivct no such doctrine, — product of some fool- 
 Invade the precincts of a better school. 
 But drive it out and let the truth prevail; 
 Stand firm against all foes that ma}' assail, 
 And when our victory is fairly won, 
 Will not our labors be but just begun? 
 Weep not o'er what is past; the future comes 
 To bring us peace or strange fatality. 
 Will battles with the endless round of years 
 Be won more eas}^ by a burst of tears? 
 Oh no, but tears and sorrows are not vain, 
 In penitence, to wash away the stain 
 
1 6 Hours Improved. 
 
 That sill has stamped upon an erring soul 
 Which God has taken under His control. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 There is much good in this short life of ours, 
 
 If we but strive to gain it, through the pow'rs 
 That God has given us in thoughts divine, 
 Repelling wrong to which our hearts incline. 
 Then cultivate the mind for future gain, 
 And fit it for an everlasting reign. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Ivike waters bursting from an unknown source, 
 The pow'rs of education lends us force, 
 To do our work while others faint away 
 At sight of aught foreboding great dela3\ 
 Then let us toil that when we sweetly sleep. 
 Our race will find a harvest here to reap; 
 Not one that tortures men with endless pain, 
 But such as brings the wealth of goldtu grain. 
 
The Indian. 17 
 
 THE INDIAN. 
 
 This land was the home of the red man, 
 The red man who roamed in the wood; 
 
 His heart was inflamed by fierce passion, 
 "Which songht its destrnctiou in blood. 
 
 The pale-face had come to his wigwam; 
 
 Had wounded, insnlted, and slain; 
 Had frightened his tribe from the hillside, 
 
 And he had opposed him in vain. 
 
 That man who has love for his kindred; 
 
 That man wi h a patriot's heart; 
 That man who has love for his children; 
 
 That man who has cunning and art, 
 
1 8 Hours Improved. 
 
 Will staud by his rights and defeud them, 
 Whoever may come as his foes, 
 
 With hatred, resent all intrusion; 
 
 With vengeance destroy as he goes. 
 
 His insults will rouse his whole being 
 When comrads shall fall in the fight, 
 
 Destruction shall be a sweet pastime, 
 The midnight attack, his delight. 
 
 If some one more might}' than he is, 
 
 Should come to his home to destroy. 
 
 What wretch would not seek to defend it. 
 And slay his oppressors with joy? 
 
 How fierce and relentless, his hatred 
 
 Would strike at the heart ot his foe; 
 
 By ambush and stratagem waiting. 
 His vengeance to wreak at a blow. 
 
The Indian. ig 
 
 The red inau, with similar vengeance, 
 
 Planned, waited ayd watched for the white, 
 
 And slaughtered his foe in the cornfield, 
 Or tortured with savage delight. 
 
 He felt no compunctions of conscience; 
 
 His hand was defending his home; 
 He fought for the sake of his children, 
 
 And forests o'er which he might roam. 
 
 He tried to preserve from destruction, 
 
 The woods the Great Spirit had made, 
 Which red men could hunt in forever, 
 
 With no one to break its vast shade. 
 
 But over the waves of the ocean 
 
 His enemies came in great crowds; 
 Their ships were like monster white seabirds. 
 
 With wings made of canvas and shrouds. 
 
20 /lours Improved. 
 
 They hewed down the forest with axes; 
 
 They frightened the game from the land. 
 They cheated and wronged and defrauded; 
 
 They slaughtered with merciless hand. 
 
 Thtn how can we blame the poor savage, 
 Whose love is as strong as our own; 
 
 Whose home and whose country's destruction 
 Had caused him so many a groan ? 
 
 The white man has roused up his passions, 
 And trampled his rights in the main; 
 
 Insulted his friends and his kinsmen; 
 
 His veugeance must wipe out the stain. 
 
 O why should he 'scape from his vengeance, 
 Whofe htart he has turned into steel, 
 
 15}' acts of such cruel oppression. 
 That even a savatje should feel. 
 
The Indian. 2i 
 
 lie rises in anger to smite liim, 
 
 But weapous and skill are too weak; 
 The white man has captured his strongholds, 
 
 And safety in flight he must seek. 
 
 Destruction and death are his portion; 
 
 His race is diminishing fast; 
 A fragment and only a fragment, 
 
 Retains its revenge to the last. 
 
 The white man increases in nnml)ers, 
 
 Is master of laud and of sea; 
 His ships are the servants of commerce; 
 
 The red man, what glory has he? 
 
 No glory, no home, no enjoyment, 
 
 No thought but to brood o'er his wrongs, 
 
 Until his existence has sunken, 
 
 And died with the last of his songs. 
 
22 Hours Improved. 
 
 His people, like thousands before tbeui, 
 Are swept from the face of the earth, 
 
 His heritage ouly a portion, 
 
 Of that which M'as his at his birth. 
 
 Farewell to the race of the red mau! 
 
 Farewell to his forests of game! 
 Farewell to the smoke of his wigwam! 
 
 Farewell to his home and his name! 
 
To The Sunshine. 
 
 TO THE vSUNSHINE. 
 
 Beautiful sunshine! Thou paintest the land, 
 
 With hand that is skillful, 
 
 And mind that is willful, 
 
 With eye that is sure. 
 
 And soul that is pure; 
 Rich are the treasures that fall from thy hand. 
 
 Over the meadows comes stealing thy light, 
 
 Neglecting no duty. 
 
 But painting with beauty, 
 
 The great and the small. 
 
 On which it may fall. 
 Decking Dame Nature with penciliugs bright. 
 
24 Hours Improved. 
 
 Ease aud oppression to Ihee are the same; 
 
 No trouble you borrow; 
 
 No soul-rending sorrow; 
 
 No sharp pangs of pain, 
 
 To torture the vain. 
 Painting aud painting regardless of fame. 
 
 Fall on us gently, O beautiful beam. 
 
 Thy brightness gives pleasure. 
 
 And like a rich treasure, 
 
 We welcome thy light. 
 
 Well knowing thy might, 
 While gliding o'er mountain, meadow aud stream. 
 
Don'' t Fear a Big No. 25 
 
 DONT FKAR A BIG "NO." 
 
 A no is a small word, but oue that we need, 
 Yet thoughtlessly spoken by some 
 
 Who know not the evils to which it may lead, 
 Or ultimate pleasure to come. 
 
 In years of my youth, by memory viewed, 
 
 I see a sweet girl of my age, 
 Toward whom I refrained from everything rude. 
 
 And tried to appear like a sage. 
 
 Her glances induced me to study and learn; 
 
 I worked for her love but in vain; 
 My thoughts and intentions she seemed to discern; 
 
 My favors she paid with disdain. 
 
26 Hours Improved. 
 
 As years passed away and my love grew more warm, 
 
 I asked for her company, home, 
 A thunderuig "no!" shook my frame like a storm 
 
 Shakes the salt sea billows to foam. 
 
 Rejected and sullen I passed from her side 
 
 To enter new studies with zeal, 
 Concealing the wound she had given my pride. 
 
 Though ni}' love I could not conceal. 
 
 A boy I was then; a man I became, 
 With views of a far higher life; 
 
 vSo thanks to the no that prevented her name 
 From blending with mine as my wife. 
 
The DruDDiie)' s Story 
 
 THE DRUMMER'S STORY. 
 
 The night was wild; the wind was cold, 
 As o'er our heads the tempest rolled, 
 And weary men began it last 
 To seek a shelter from the blast. 
 I chanced to be awhile delayed. 
 By rush of business in my trade. 
 And thus I missed the evening train, 
 That sped across the grassy plain, 
 Then turning from the tempest's din 
 I sought for shelter in an inn. 
 When shown a room I doffed my clothes, 
 And quickly sought a night's repose. 
 The midnight hours were passed in sleep, 
 And still we lay in slumbers deep, 
 Until the near approach of dawn. 
 When blackest darkness had withdrawn. 
 
28 Hovrs Improved. 
 
 Then we were 'wakened from our dreams, 
 By frightful howls and fearful screams 
 Which seemed to come from far below, 
 With accents of the deepest woe. 
 Sometimes, to us, the breeze would waft 
 A laugh, and 'twas a fiend that laughed. 
 'Tvvas followed by a lengthened howl 
 More heinous than the screeching owl; 
 And then a long and lusty call 
 Was answered by a painful scjuall; 
 Sometimes the cries seemed choked in blood. 
 Then rising like a mighty flood. 
 Assailed our ears and swept before 
 What little s^nse we had in store. 
 So leaping from my downy bed 
 Into the spacious hall I sped. 
 Wild eyes appeared on every side 
 At sight of which I loudly cried, 
 "Where are those cries of wild despair?" 
 A dozen voices answered, "where?" 
 
TJte Druimncf s Story. 29 
 
 But none could tell, as eyes to eyes 
 
 I^ooked forth their horror and surprise. 
 
 Then rose a man of giant form, 
 
 Whose voice was heard above the storm, 
 
 '"Tis surely murder! Come with me 
 
 And let us solve this uiystery." 
 
 lie led us forth. We marched with care 
 
 Adowii that long and winding stair. 
 
 The building shook beneath our tread, 
 
 And every heart was filled with dread, 
 
 We halted when we reached a door 
 
 That opened to the basement floor. 
 
 E=icli face was white with mortal fear, 
 
 As thoughts of friends each held most dear, 
 
 Came crowding to his anxious mind. 
 
 None cared to make another move, 
 
 Lest that one step might fatal prove. 
 
 But as we halted stern and pale 
 
 We heard a most terrific wail. 
 
 Again it came both loud and shrill. 
 
30 Hours Improved. 
 
 Then for a moment all was still. 
 The whisper flew to all that we 
 Should make a dash within to see, 
 What caused those cries of agony. 
 With loud consent and angry roar 
 We dashed against the oaken door, 
 And as it yielded with a crash 
 We saw, — the cooks preparing hash. — ■ 
 
To a \ lolct. 3 1 
 
 TO A VIOLET. 
 
 Poor violet, lift up your head! 
 
 Some ruthless fool has trod you down, 
 Thus all the beauty of fair earth, 
 
 Is crushed by Nature's augry frowu. 
 
 But yesterday your coat of blue 
 
 Took its reflection from the sky, 
 
 To day your brilliant hue is gone; 
 Your beauty only came to die. 
 
 Why did you live in colors bright? 
 
 What was your mission here on earth? 
 To fall again and form the soil 
 
 Whose richness proves your modest worth. 
 
32 Hours Improved. 
 
 ODE TO THE RAIN. 
 
 Thou gentle rain, who nioisteneth the earth, 
 
 And coaxeth countless flovv'rs into birth, 
 
 What are \.\\y noble virtues? Who can tell? 
 
 Since thou concealelh part within each cell 
 
 That renders strong, the mountain's matchless pine. 
 
 And starts new shoots upon the climbing vine. 
 
 The brooks that sparkle down the mountain side. 
 
 Due portions of thy boundless wealth divide 
 
 Among the grass and plants and mosses rare, 
 
 Which start with eagerness thy gifts to share. 
 
 The pansy, rising from her dewy bsd, 
 
 Supports one drop upon her faultless head, 
 
 And from that drop a ray of liquid light 
 
 Gleams for a moment on the passing sight. 
 
 The shrubs which bloom with rich and varied hue, 
 
 Refreshed and brightened by the morning dew, 
 
Ode to the Rain. 33 
 
 Require thy aid to paint eacli transient leaf, 
 AlthougU its beauty on the earth is brief, 
 Like joys that fill the throbbing heart to-da\', 
 To-morrow all may fade and pass away. 
 The cataract that leaps from yonder rock, 
 And shakes the earth with its tremendous shock, 
 From thee alone can have that potent source, 
 Which gives its torrent such unbounded force. 
 The hill, the rock, the wood and deep ravine. 
 The flowing brook, that leaps and plays between, 
 Depend upon the bounty of thy hand. 
 To scatter beautj^ o'er a smiling land. 
 Behold the fruitage of a garden rare, 
 Supported by thy watchfulness and care. 
 Thy blessings— gifts of more than mortal hands — 
 Would change to Eden, all the desert lands. 
 Each grain of sand that marks a desert shore 
 Would take its share from thy most fruitful store 
 And bring to life its portion of a flower 
 That well might grace the fauc}' of an hour. 
 
34 Hours Improved. 
 
 The beasts of prey, that roam the dripping wood, 
 The giaut fish that swim the rolling flood, 
 The stately eagle, who with watchful eye. 
 Soars from his ayry in the azure sky, 
 The creeping insects of the fields below, 
 Unconscious of the gifts thy hands bestow. 
 And mankind, still more gifted than them all, 
 Derive their substance from thy guiltless fall. 
 
True. 35 
 
 TRUE. 
 
 He came to school with full intent 
 His time and talents should be spent 
 In gleaning from the friendly page 
 The wisdom of the present age; 
 But lest his passions should betray 
 Or lead his eager thoughts away, 
 He made resolve within his mind, 
 That he would shun all woman kind. 
 — A vow most easy to foreswear, 
 When once acquainted with the fair — 
 He kept his pledge for many days, 
 And tried to shun in countless ways, 
 But two dark eyes look in his own 
 And these had pow'r enough alone 
 To win esteem and gain his heart. 
 Nor could he for a moment part 
 
36 Hours Improved. 
 
 His thoughts from those bewitching eyes 
 Whose glance his own had learned to prize. 
 It seemed to him a hand divine, 
 Had led him victim to the shrine, 
 Of ouepnre soul, upright and true, 
 When faith, indeed, is kept by few. 
 An unseen force was in her air, 
 Which proved her good as she was fair. 
 
 II. 
 
 The summer fled and autumn came. 
 
 And still their friendship seemed the same. 
 
 One night while seated side by side. 
 
 He gently sought her for his bride; 
 
 vSpoke of his love with manly tone 
 
 And asked to claim her as his own. 
 
 With most becoming maiden grace. 
 
 She stole a glance into his face, 
 
 A look that only told too well 
 
 The love her tongue refused to tell. 
 
7; ue. 37 
 
 III. 
 
 The}' lingered o'er their music long, 
 But scarcely thought about the song. 
 They often met as lovers do 
 And vowed their hearts would e'er be true 
 And when her lips he fondly pressed 
 Each claimed to love the other best. 
 And she would bend her willing ear 
 To catch the words she loved to hear. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then came the time for them to part; 
 He pressed her to his beating heart; 
 She vowed again to share his life 
 And be to him a faithful wife. 
 He went his waj' into the world, 
 To battle with the strife that whirled 
 Along his rough and untrod way, 
 Which led him on from day to day. 
 
38 Hours Improved. 
 
 At last his steps were homeward turned, 
 And in his breast his true love burned 
 With happy thoughts of her fond face, 
 Her lovely form, and sweet embrace. 
 But as he neared the well known gate 
 A festal board appeared to wait 
 The coming of a happy bride 
 With lordly husband at her side, 
 And as a carriage gayly wheeled 
 Into the lane, his senses reeled. 
 For there he saw the only form 
 That ever had the strength to warm 
 His soul into heroic fire 
 xVnd seek the fame his hopes inspire. 
 
 V. 
 
 The sight was madness to his Vjrain, 
 Yet he was forced to look again. 
 In order to convince his mind. 
 And shake his faith in woman kind. 
 
True, 39 
 
 With staring eyes he stood and gazed, 
 Cojupletely startled and aiuized, 
 To think that she could soon forget 
 The vow she made when last they met. 
 Then through his frame a deadly chill 
 Began to creep against his will. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Unasked he came; unseen he tied 
 To wander where his fancy led, 
 Since all the sweetness of his life 
 Were lost when he had lost his wife. 
 I'orlorn he wandered o'er the land, 
 But gained in wealth on every hand; 
 And rumor gave him wealth untold 
 With iron coffers filled with gold. 
 'Twas then he ceased to idly roam 
 And bought himself a pleasant home 
 Where he could think of days gone by 
 Or live in peace, in quiet die, 
 
40 Hours Improved. 
 
 Vll. 
 
 One evening as he sat alone, 
 He bravely stifled every groan, 
 Although he plainly seemed to know 
 That she was bound for weal or woe 
 To that young rival of her choice, 
 Yet he so longed to hear her voice 
 And see the face he held so dear, 
 That in his fancy she was near. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He rose at once and took the train. 
 That quickly drew him home again. 
 He passed along the well known road, 
 That gave a view of her abode. 
 The stately trees whose pleasant shade, 
 A happy trj'sting place bad made, 
 Invited him to take a seat 
 Beside a rill, whose music sweet 
 Awakened thoughts of days long past 
 
True. 41 
 
 Uutil his tears flowed free at last. 
 He wept uucouscious of a form 
 That came to calm his passion's storm. 
 Till both his cheeks were softly pressed 
 By hands that he had oft caressed, 
 And ou his lips there fell a kiss 
 Thit filial his so'al with perfect bliss. 
 Then starting up and glancing round 
 His sweetheart by his side he found, 
 And as the evening light grew dim, 
 He learned that she was true to him. 
 vShe whispered as he raised his head: 
 "It was my sister who was wed." 
 
42 Hours Improved, 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE. 
 
 Ill a lovely little cottage 
 
 Sils a young and happy wife, 
 With her darling little baby, 
 
 Dearer to her soul than life. 
 
 What a thrill of sweet contentment 
 Comes to every mother's breast, 
 
 When she feels the dimpled fingers 
 Of her baby there at rest. 
 
 IIow she kisses and caresses, 
 
 As a mother only can. 
 Who is dreaming of the future, 
 
 When her boy shall be a man. 
 
A Beautiful Picture. 43 
 
 True and noble in his manhood; 
 
 Free from ways of subtle vice; 
 Free from evils that will ruin 
 
 Every soul which they entice. 
 
 O the love of such a mother, 
 
 Pure and stainless as the 1)03% 
 
 Whom she fondles and caresses, 
 With a hopeful mother's joy, 
 
 Is by far a greater blessing, 
 
 Than the wealth of kings can give. 
 To the heart whose lost affection, 
 
 vStill permits the man to live. 
 
 Could \\\y pen but paint a picture, 
 
 That revealed the love and pride 
 
 Of a happy wife and mother, 
 With her baby at her side, 
 
44 Hours Improved. 
 
 I would be by far more famous, 
 Than a Watteau or a v'^cott, 
 
 Who have drawn, with peu aud peucil, 
 Pictures that reveal them not. 
 
 I cau see the uiother waiting 
 For the father's eager tread. 
 
 As she lavs her preci )U3 burden. 
 In the cot beside the bed. 
 
 Aud no sweetheart longs so cteeply 
 For her lover's fond caress, 
 
 As this faithful wife aud mother 
 For her husband's happiness. 
 
 How her mind is often busy 
 
 With the ever pleasant truth, 
 That her husband is more loving, 
 ^ Than the lover of her youth. 
 
A Beaulifid Pic/inr. 45 
 
 See him coming! O what pleasure 
 Thrills each fiber of her frame, 
 
 As she springs to meet one darling, 
 With another darling's name. 
 
 Weary with his day of labor, 
 Ka^erly he folds his wife 
 
 lu the arms of his protection. 
 
 That will shield her with his life. 
 
 And she twines her arms around him 
 In her eager love and pride, 
 
 While he leads her forward gently, 
 Happy as a morning bride. 
 
 Then he kisses her so fondl)-, 
 
 That her eyes are filled with tears, 
 
 And the swelling of her bosom, 
 Tells how deeply she reveres. 
 
46 Hours Improved. 
 
 While he calls her names endearing, 
 He compares her to a dove, 
 
 ijver ready to be petted; 
 
 Such a life indeed is love! 
 
 Who would live alone in sadness? 
 
 Who would frustrate nature's plan? 
 Ey a life ofnanieless longinjj. 
 
 With such happiness for man? 
 
Uncle Hiram. 47 
 
 UNCLE HIRAM 
 
 TO THE BOY WHO INIOCKED AT HIM. 
 
 Come here my bo}'. What have I done 
 
 That you should treat me so? 
 Tis true that I am ohl auil weak; 
 My feet indeed are slow; 
 
 My clothes are not the very best; 
 
 My eyes are not so .yood; 
 I cannot catch and punish you; 
 
 I would not if I could. 
 
 But does that give 5-ou leave, my son, 
 
 To scoff and scorn at me? 
 Ah no, indeed, }'ou are too wise, 
 
 To offer such a plea. 
 
48 Hours Improved. 
 
 Though these gray-hiirs have crowned 1113' head 
 
 I, too, was once a boy, 
 As blith and hopeful as you are, 
 
 With soul as full of joy. 
 
 My limbs were once much like your own, 
 
 They led me everywhere; 
 Into the wood and by the mill, 
 
 Aud up its creaking stair. 
 
 But now I walk with this old cane 
 
 Which I have used for years; 
 It is a staff to my poor bones, 
 
 A friend who stays my fears. 
 
 When I was j'oung and spry like you, 
 
 I pitied helpless age; 
 I lent a hand where e'er I could; 
 
 I loved a thoughtful sage; 
 
Uncle Hiram. 
 
 In search of knowledge we would go 
 
 Into the distant wood; 
 He taught me lessons from the trees, 
 
 To make me wise and good. 
 
 He taught me to respect the old, 
 
 Who soon would fall like leaves, 
 
 So that my closing days should be 
 As rich as golden sheaves. 
 
 The people loved my gentleness; 
 
 Politeness brought me wealth, 
 And honors blessed my happy home. 
 
 Worth more than worldly pelf. 
 
 Here is a book; I give it you; 
 
 I wrote it j-ears ago; 
 It teaches boys far better ways 
 
 Than those you seem to know. 
 
 49 
 
50 Hours Improved. 
 
 You feel ashamed, I see, 1113- lad; 
 
 That blush upon your brow 
 Will do you good in future years. 
 
 And it becomes you now. 
 
 O don't refuse, but take my gift, 
 And tell me now I pray, 
 
 Why do you vex the old and weak, 
 Who chance to come this way? 
 
 You thought me ignorant and poor! 
 
 Then let me say, my son, 
 Old clothes and age do not reveal 
 
 What active brains have done. 
 
Uncle Hirant, 51 
 
 UNCLE HIRAM 
 
 TO THE TRUANT BOY, 
 
 You'r out of school, I see, my lad! 
 
 But let uie kiudly say 
 You can't afford to loaf arouud 
 
 While boyhood slips awa}'. 
 
 The truaut always is despised 
 
 Ry every oue in town. 
 He grows to be a common thief, 
 
 A laggard or a clown. 
 
 He loafs about the streets and stores, 
 And hears the vicious tale, 
 
 That leads to mischief and debauch, 
 By means that seldom fail 
 
52 Hours Improved. 
 
 To blight with ruiu, whom they touch, 
 And leave his soul shipwrecked 
 
 Upon the rocks and shoals of time, 
 With none to give respect. 
 
 He learns to smoke and chew and swear 
 
 And drink the liquid fire, 
 That burns all manhood from his soul, 
 
 But deepens foul desire. 
 
 The prison cell and drunkard's grave 
 
 Are open to receive 
 The erring boy whose thoughtlessness 
 
 Makes loving parents grieve. 
 
 What do you say? Vou'r not the one 
 To bring about such scenes? 
 
 Then boy, beware! across the 1:)ar 
 A frightful serpent gleams. 
 
Uncle Hi) am, 53 
 
 O what a shame to waste your time 
 
 lu idleness and siu, 
 Wheu every moment well improved, 
 
 The world's applause might win. 
 
 Great men are only known as great 
 Who use their time with care; 
 
 By such economy thej' shun 
 The tempter's gaudy snare. 
 
 These days will build your character 
 And rule your future life. 
 
 The fame you win, the pow'r you gain, 
 Must be through years of strife. 
 
 I like your face for from your eye 
 
 There beams a fiery soul 
 That speaks to me of high resolve, 
 
 And will to gain control. 
 
^^ Hours Improved, 
 
 Direct its force upon the good 
 And 3 ou are sure to win. 
 
 In every contest for the right, 
 Against the hosts of sin. 
 
 I like that suiile and earnest look, 
 
 And self-reliant tone; 
 It shows to nie as plain as day, 
 
 The fault is not your own. 
 
 I think your parents are to blame, 
 They failed to train you right; 
 
 They let you go and come at will 
 At morning, noon and night. 
 
 You ran away from home and school; 
 
 From useful book and slate, 
 And every one around you seemed 
 
 To leave you to your fate. 
 
Uiide Hiram. 55 
 
 You saw your playmates uioviug on 
 
 To liouor and reuowu, 
 While you were styled by every oue, 
 
 "The loafer of the towu." 
 
 Just stop to think and j-ou will see 
 That once uo doubt \^ou stood 
 
 Ahead of those who laugh at you; 
 At least I know you could, 
 
 If you would only turn your mind 
 To earnest work in school 
 
 You soon could be a mau of note, 
 While others play the fool. 
 
Poems on opecial 
 
 'ccasions. 
 
The Separation. 59 
 
 THE SEPARATION. 
 
 Written for the Thalonian Society, June 19, iS 
 Read hy Paris Ashcraft. 
 
 Of earthly ties that break the heart 
 
 A poet's lilies are sure to tell; 
 In these, we pray, O charming Muse, 
 
 Tha thou wilt give thy potent spell! 
 
 O let them tell of uoble work 
 
 Pursued by all these eager hands 
 
 While honors greet their willing souls 
 And gain the prizes toil demands. 
 
 O sing of those whose prudent zeal 
 
 Will yield a thousand fold to bless 
 
 Their barques upon the sea of life, 
 
 And crown the deeds with true success. 
 
6o Hours Improved. 
 
 What higher sentiments will steal 
 Into the breasts of gallant men, 
 
 When fame is won and thought portrays 
 The scenes enacted here again? 
 
 When duty calls us to the field 
 
 And praises ring across the land, 
 
 How happy each will be to say, 
 
 That he was on 3 among this band. 
 
 The open halls that ring to-day, 
 With merry voices full of glee. 
 
 Will hear no more their laugh and song, 
 Nor echo with their melody. 
 
 Each tongue that speaks of joy and love. 
 Will find some hopeful, eager ear. 
 
 To catch the trembling words that fall, 
 From lips that loved ones will revere. 
 
The Separation. 6i 
 
 How swift the pleasant days have fled 
 
 Though gloomy clouds have heavy hung 
 
 Around our lives, which mourning still 
 With grief and agony are wrung. 
 
 What matters where or what we are 
 
 If virtue has her highest sway? 
 We surel}' need not trembling stand 
 
 Upon the mighty judgment day. 
 
 But when the book is opened wide 
 
 The Master's face will glow to see, 
 That all his children of the earth 
 
 Are blest throughout eternit}'. 
 
 Yet why shouM we attempt to rend 
 
 The veil that screens the future state, 
 Since earth received the Son of God 
 
 To guard our souls from evil fate. 
 
62 Hours Improved. 
 
 Let joy prevail iu every heart. 
 
 While peace and rest forever lie 
 Beyond the glory of fair earth, 
 
 Where fame and honor never die. 
 
 When leagues of land between us roll; 
 
 When foaming billows rise and fall, 
 Our thoughts will eagerly return, 
 
 And happy scenes again recall. 
 
 And yet 'tis sad for us to part 
 
 From all these friends who are so dear, 
 And launch into the great unknown, 
 
 With such few honors given here. 
 
 To night we meet in active life 
 
 While joy and hope are bounding high, 
 But ere we gather here again 
 
 Some friend beneath the sod will lie. 
 
The Separation. 63 
 
 We look around and in each face 
 
 The signs of health and pleasure glow; 
 
 We wonder when we see you all, 
 
 Which one will be the first to go. 
 
 We love you all as brothers love, 
 
 No enmity is in our hearts; 
 We love the work that we have done, 
 
 Where all have taken noble parts. 
 
 We love these halls, for here we met 
 
 Those friends whose innocence confessed 
 
 The hopes that filled their stainless minds 
 Ere they had sought eternal rest. 
 
 Now they are gone; their precious souls 
 
 Have passed beyond the Pearly Gate; 
 O God! through weary years to come, 
 
 Will their fond spirits for us wait? 
 
64 Hours Improved. 
 
 O yes, indeed, they keep their watch 
 To greet us at the sacred throue. 
 
 And angels look upon their joy. 
 
 While here we bow and weep alone. 
 
 But bitter tears can ne'er recall 
 
 The loved, who filled our lives with zeal, 
 Yet they will issue unrestrained, 
 
 And all our loneliness reveal. 
 
 Then let us hope! O God, how long! 
 
 Within that realm beyond the sky, 
 That we shall meet the loved again, 
 
 Aud know how sweet it is to die! 
 
The Class Poem. 65 
 
 THE CI.ASS POEM. 
 
 Delivered by tlie author at Taylor's University on the evening of his 
 graduation, June 20, iSS8. 
 
 O what is our future, 
 Dear classmates and friends? 
 
 Which way will we travel 
 Ou life's rugged road? 
 
 What blessings will reach us 
 While health condesceuds 
 
 To lead us still safely 
 Where knowledge has flowed. 
 
 lu England or Scotland, 
 In France or in Spain, 
 
 In Turkey or Russia, 
 On Africa's strand, 
 
 In Norwa}- or Sweeden, 
 On Italy's plain, 
 
66 Hours Improved. 
 
 Our virtues have iuflueuce 
 Over the laud. 
 
 Ou uiouutaiu, iu vallej^ 
 Or ou the deep sea, 
 
 Amoug the cold icebergs 
 That float from the poles, 
 
 Or iu the warm tropics, 
 Whose bouut}' is free, 
 
 Where uature iu spleudor 
 Her sweetuess uurolls, 
 
 The spirit of kuowledge 
 Will urge to success 
 
 Aud wouderful visious, 
 Which calm aud delight 
 
 The more uoble passious 
 Our hearts may possess. 
 
 Will give us forever 
 Coiiuuaud of the right. 
 
 The future will tr^- us 
 With pleasure aud paiu 
 
The Class Poem. 67 
 
 To quicken our pulses, 
 And cause us to feel 
 
 That, conscience reproves us 
 Unless we retain 
 
 A bold, buoyant spirit 
 To fill us with zeal. 
 
 Who knows the threat gladness 
 Transition will bring 
 
 To soften the trials 
 That fall at our feet? 
 
 Who dreams of sweet measures 
 The augels will sing 
 
 Wherejoy is eternal 
 And life is complete? 
 
 What matchless enchantment 
 Our spirits foretell, 
 
 When one of our nuniljer 
 Emblazons his name! 
 
 What thrilling sensations 
 Will charm with their spell 
 
68 Hours Improved. 
 
 When some shall mount higher 
 The ladder of fame! 
 
 When dear ones shall enter 
 The valley of death, 
 
 What sorrow will moisten 
 Our eyes at their fate! 
 
 What sadness will laden 
 The tremulous breath 
 
 To think how we loved 
 In the year eighty-eight, 
 
 When age shall remove us 
 And beauty decay, 
 
 When years into centuries 
 Ceaselessly roll, 
 
 And time seems to usher 
 A long cloudless day. 
 
 When death shall have given 
 Sweet peace to the soul, 
 
 What music will heighten 
 The exquisite song? 
 
The Class Poem. 69 
 
 What dirges will laden 
 The tremulous sigh? 
 
 What wizzard will tell us, 
 Among that vast throng, 
 
 The paths we must follow; 
 The deaths we must die? 
 
 All calm and all thoughtful 
 We look at the past. 
 
 And plan for the duties 
 That come in our way; 
 
 The veil of the future 
 Around us is cast, 
 
 Concealing the dangers 
 That mangle and slay; 
 
 But faithful crusaders 
 Through darkness profund, 
 
 With science and progress 
 To hasten the van. 
 
 Will lessen the dangers 
 That gather around. 
 
70 Hours Improved. 
 
 And weaken forever 
 The vices of man. 
 
 Our virtues are ])eacons 
 That light up the sky; 
 
 vSonie blazing out brightly 
 And casting a glow 
 
 Upon the great ocean 
 Where dangers may lie, 
 
 Revealed by the splendors 
 That over them flow. 
 
 But others are hidden 
 Profusely away 
 
 Behind the effulgence 
 That breaks with the dawn, 
 
 Uutil they assemble 
 In perfect array, 
 
 When Satan surrenders 
 And Hades is gone. 
 
 Our hearts have been heavy 
 With anguish and woe, 
 
The Class Poem. 
 
 And evils accost us 
 To blight active life, 
 
 But hoping and trusting 
 In earnest, we show 
 
 That patience will conquer 
 The phalanx of strife. 
 
 The tears which have risen 
 In griefs mournful eyes 
 
 Are jewels that sparkle 
 With all that is pure, 
 
 Revealing affections 
 We wish to disguise 
 
 And bearing the burdens 
 Our hearts would endure. 
 
 Then cherish these treasures 
 With glowing delight, 
 And follow forever 
 Some laudable theme. 
 
 Defending the helpless 
 And guarding the right. 
 
 71 
 
y2 Hours Improved. 
 
 We'll hope for the glory 
 Of life's golden beam. 
 
 We'll seek for advancement 
 That labor should bring, 
 
 And eagerly hasten 
 To orient lands, 
 
 Where nations to follow 
 Will joyfully sing 
 
 The plaudits that welcome 
 The works of our hands. 
 
 How much should we value 
 Distinction and birth? 
 
 Since angels are never 
 Permitted to know 
 
 Of praises and honors 
 That greet us on earth, 
 
 Or trials that chasten 
 Our spirits below. 
 
 If they were found mourning 
 O'er woes that we bear 
 
The Class Poem. 73 
 
 The portals of Heaven 
 
 Would only retain 
 A throng of s^ad spirits 
 
 That live in despair, 
 And gladly would hasten 
 
 To meet us again. 
 But hope rises hrgher 
 
 To fill the pained breast 
 With peace and contentment 
 
 Which silently bring, 
 The comfort that sweetens 
 
 The days of our rest 
 And show to the evil 
 
 That knowledge is king. 
 When he shall desert us 
 
 Our last failing breath 
 Will leave the heart pulseless 
 
 And cold as a stone, 
 While friendship will mournfully 
 
 Gaze upon, death. 
 
74 Hours Improved. 
 
 And those who have loved us 
 
 Will sorrow aloue. 
 No fathers or mothers 
 
 Or loved ones we see, 
 For they have all yielded 
 
 To nature's last sleep, 
 While saddest reflections 
 
 Of what is to be 
 May cause each dear classmate 
 
 To silently weep. 
 Together we followed 
 
 The loved ones so dear 
 And laid them forever 
 
 Beneath the damp sod. 
 But why should we grievously 
 
 Shed the warm tear. 
 Since they are surrounded 
 
 By blessings from God? 
 The stars are above us 
 
 And still shiuiug bright, 
 
The Class Poem. 75 
 
 Behind the great vapors 
 
 That darken our way, 
 And all the deep shado-.vs 
 
 We see in the night 
 Will only make welcome 
 
 The dawning ofdaj'. 
 
76 Hours Improved, 
 
 SCHOOIv DAY GREETING. 
 
 Recited at CoUiitibia City, September 20, 1S90. 
 By Miss Kittie Whiltenberger. 
 
 Our patrous and pupils and teachers to-day 
 We greet you with joyful acclaim; 
 
 Wherever your stations, whatever your plans, 
 Your presence we value the same. 
 
 We work for the public and hope for success; 
 
 Your presence increases our zeal. 
 And may yovir enjoyment be counted no less. 
 
 But ecjual the pleasure we feel. 
 
 This da}' is a proud one, indeed, for us all. 
 
 With ultimate good as its goal. 
 The sjjirit of contest that enters the breast 
 
 Will cleanse and enoble the soul. 
 
School Day Greeting . 77 
 
 The prizes here won will encourage our youth 
 
 To strive for high honors in life, 
 And those once defeated are better prepared 
 
 To enter again in the strife. 
 
 For pluck is the mainspring that leads to success 
 
 And wins the applause of mankind, 
 And he who has nearly succeeded does well, 
 
 Leaving hosts of companions behind. 
 
 The thoughtless and indolent never can win, 
 
 They simply remain in the way 
 To clog the endeavors of more active minds, 
 
 Which chafe at their useless delay. 
 
 The days that are given us mortals below 
 
 Are precious as purified gold; 
 And moments once wasted can never return 
 
 Though we may regret them when old. 
 
78 Hours Is)ip) ovcd. 
 
 How careless we are with our moments of time 
 Which pass in a flash and are gone 
 
 To leave us in recklessness moving about 
 Till certain si;ccess is withdrawn. 
 
 How few of our race are successful in life, 
 While thousands go down at its close 
 
 To mingle again with the dust of the spheres, 
 And rest in unhonored repose. 
 
 Those souls which are earnest and willing to do 
 Have paths of pure beauty to tread. 
 
 Their glory shall live for long ages to come 
 While bliss shall repose with the dead. 
 
 Some men are like insects that live ])ut an hour 
 Yet spend their whole lives in excess; 
 
 In useless existence— that torment the true 
 With vices that all should repress. 
 
School Day Grccfino-. 79 
 
 Rut others are stars in the pathway of men 
 
 Which guide them to all that is good 
 They point out the roads that have lead to success 
 
 Which more might pursue if they would. 
 
 They mould the opinions that rule o'er the state; 
 
 They sit as our judges of laws; 
 They kuow of the storms and upheavals of earth 
 
 And seek to discover their cause. 
 
 Great statesmen are with us assembled to-daj-; 
 
 The wise who will rule in the land, 
 Our duties, as parents and teachers, are plain: 
 
 Give training to heart and to hand. 
 
 Again we bid welcome to friends of the school; 
 
 To those who have answered the call; 
 The work here begun will yield good results, 
 
 Then welcome; thrice welcome to all. 
 
8o Hours Improved. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 This soug of time, I write in rhyme, 
 
 And listen to the ring 
 Of words that chime, in this sweet clime 
 
 Like echoes of the spring. 
 
 In joyous tone or muffled moan 
 
 They tell the simple tale, 
 While hearts of stone, without a groau, 
 
 Hark to distress' wail. 
 
 Some souls unmoved and unreproved 
 
 Go on their vicious way, 
 While all around Old Time is found 
 
 The monarch of the day. 
 
Time. 8 1 
 
 Go where you will there haunts you still 
 
 The phantoms of mankind, 
 With sudden thrill or fearful chill 
 
 You look at what you find. 
 
 Here lies the past, unearthed at last 
 
 To science of to-day; 
 Gaunt forms held fast where Time has cast 
 
 Them into mire and clay. 
 
 Man reads the rocks through earthquake shocks 
 
 And sees an ancient thief 
 That moves and mocks at fortune's locks 
 
 Whose barriers are brief. 
 
 With rush and roar around the door 
 
 He brings a cutting blast, 
 That has a score of ills in store 
 
 As it goes sweeping past. 
 
82 JIo/iis Improved. 
 
 O'er hill and vale he sets his sail 
 
 And far into the sky 
 Sweeps on though hail and rains assail 
 
 As he would pass them by. 
 
 Stout ships may sweep across the deep 
 
 And anchor in the bay, 
 But Time will creep, — though waves may sleep, 
 
 To steal their strength away. 
 
 No force can hold Old Time so bold 
 
 Nor check his onward flight; 
 No power above, nor force of love 
 
 Can keep him in the night. 
 
 With limbs unbound he still is found 
 
 A thief upon the earth, 
 Who steals away our friends to-day. 
 
 From all their scenes of mirth. 
 
Time. 83 
 
 O'er sua and star he leaps afar 
 Aud few cau find his worth; 
 
 Kxistence proves he lives aud moves 
 But no one knows his birth. 
 
I r)e oeason; 
 
spring, 87 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Wheu the chilling winds of winter 
 Have departed from our fields; 
 
 When the balmy air of springtime, 
 With its fragrance o'er us steals, 
 
 We can look with veneration, 
 
 To the One who rules the air, 
 
 While we give our heart's devotion, 
 For delightful sweetness there. 
 
 Let us pause and gaze around us. 
 
 On the landscape fresh and green. 
 
 While we contemplate the beauty 
 Of so wonderful a scene. 
 
88 Hours Improved. 
 
 See that line of gold and shadow, 
 Speeding swiftly o'er the land! 
 
 Look upon the suow^y hillside 
 And the riverbauks of sand! 
 
 See the snow-flakes quickly melting! 
 
 Watch the rivulets run by! 
 Look upon the changing meadow; 
 
 Look into the azure sky, 
 
 And we know that spring is coming; 
 
 We can feel her gentle breath, 
 As she comes to waken beauty 
 
 From the prison-house of death. 
 
 Turn a glance upon yon mountain, 
 Where that massive heap of st:ow. 
 
 Which was born there in the winter, 
 Slowlv melts beneath the glow, 
 
spring. 89 
 
 Of that sweet and glorious sunbeam, 
 
 lu the softness of whose light, 
 We can see a thousanfl wonders 
 
 Stealing meekly into sight. 
 
 When the crystal snow has vanished 
 
 We can see the fresh young grass 
 Smiling in its grateful gladness 
 
 From the meadows as we pass. 
 
 We may see the foaming river. 
 
 Swollen by the mountain stream, 
 Rushing on to meet the ocean, 
 
 Gleaming in the morning's beam. 
 
 Snow has melted from the hillside; 
 
 Earth and air are growing warm; 
 Clouds have vanished from the heavens, 
 
 Leaving naught of winter's storm. 
 
90 Hours Improved. 
 
 How the dew upon the herbage, 
 Sparkles iu the golden light, 
 
 Like a luilliou costly brilliants 
 Smiling at so grand a sight. 
 
 Over field and in the forest, 
 
 Everywhere a flow'r is found; 
 
 Bees are noisy with their humming, 
 As they go their daily round. 
 
 We are pleased with bloom and beauty. 
 And the flowers in our wa}', 
 
 Fill the air with grateful fragrance, 
 For the pleasant month of May. 
 
 In the woods we hear the music 
 
 Of the choir that comes with spring, 
 
 Halt, and listen to their voices, 
 
 While the hills and forests ring! 
 
spring. 91 
 
 Here the robin, there the bhie-jay. 
 On the l)rauches swinging high, 
 
 Mock the notes of other singers, 
 As they hear them passing by. 
 
 Ah, how well I )'et remeinl)er, 
 "When the robin sang to nie, 
 
 Swinging on the topmost branches 
 While I stood beneath the tree! 
 
 Never had I heard such music; 
 
 Never had I felt such glee; 
 Never dreamed of such sweet rapture. 
 
 In so plain a melody. 
 
 How my features glowed with pleasure 
 At the cadence of his song, 
 
 And the singer in departing 
 
 Took my boyish heart along. 
 
92 Hours Improved. 
 
 That was in my early springtime, 
 
 When my heart was young and true 
 
 To the love of ardent nature, 
 
 Which no wave of sorrow knew. 
 
 But the very gayest season 
 
 Has some blossoms which must fade 
 And the brightest of all firesides. 
 
 Death is waiting to invade. 
 
 He will triumph ever sorrow 
 And by yielding self at last, 
 
 We may taste the sweets of heaven 
 In the mem'ries of the past. 
 
 There the years may pass unnoticed; 
 
 Joy and peace may strew the way 
 With new beauties for our spirits, 
 
 Where no evils dare to stray. 
 
Sprinr. 93 
 
 Thus iu clouds of gloomy darkness 
 
 Floating iu our youthful skies, 
 We will find a silver lining, 
 
 When the mists of ages rise. 
 
 Like the clouds that cross the zenith. 
 
 They are dark upon the face. 
 But the other side is brilliant. 
 
 With the beauty of God's grace. 
 
 O, sad spirit, cease 5'our grieving. 
 
 And forgetting toil and pain, 
 You may see the former sweetness, 
 
 Springing into life again. 
 
 Cast away your cloak of sorrow, 
 
 Cheer your heart with better things. 
 
 And your soul may hear in fancy. 
 
 Sounds that come from angels' wings. 
 
94 Hours Improved. 
 
 Theu we ueed uot look and wonder 
 By what strange and magic hand 
 
 All these riches of the seasons 
 
 Have been scattered o'er the laud. 
 
 O, forget our bitter sorrows, 
 
 Think of happy days to come, 
 
 Think of beauties that will greet us 
 In our bright celestial home. 
 
 Did I say 'forget our sorrows?' 
 Ah, how easy to advise, 
 
 Since the soul cannot forget them. 
 And such mandates will despise. 
 
 While we think of those departed 
 In the very bloom of youth; 
 fiver jo3'ous and contented; 
 Ever seeking after truth. 
 
spring. 95 
 
 vShall the lives bowed down in sadness 
 Never rise to sweeter light? 
 
 Shall the struggling souls of manhood 
 Sink into eternal night? 
 
 No, indeed! The fields of glory 
 Yield a broad and open way 
 
 To escape from sad dejection, 
 
 And returns to life's sweet May. 
 
 When our summer times have vanished, 
 And our autumn lives are o'er; 
 
 When the days of winter pass us, 
 And this clay shall be no more, 
 
 Flow'rs will bloom again in fragrance, 
 
 To adorn a faithful heart, 
 And the rich reward for duty 
 
 Will perform its sacred part. 
 
96 Hours hnpyovcd. 
 
 When the augels sing tlieir chorus, 
 Aud the goldeu harps shall ring 
 
 With the joy of souls immortal. 
 
 In that bright and heav'nly spring. 
 
 We will live in love forever, 
 
 Though our sweetest flow'rs have died. 
 For they bloom in perfect beauty 
 
 On the sweet Elysian side. 
 
Slimmer. 97 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Golden Summer! Time of harvest! 
 
 Time to gather iu the gram! 
 Who would hesitate to love thee, 
 
 Or forget thy blessed reign. 
 
 Royal vSummer! How your bounty 
 Spreads fair favors all arouud, 
 
 While the rocks and hills and woodland 
 With sweet minstrelsy resound. 
 
 In the groves the birds are singing; 
 
 Insects fill the balmj- air; 
 This, to them, is pleasant pasti me. 
 
 When the days are bright and fair. 
 
98 Hours Improved, 
 
 On the clover bees are working, 
 Seeking riches rare and sweet, 
 
 Lajnng up the l)est provisions, 
 
 In their stores, for men to eat. 
 
 Brilliant vSunshine of the Summer! 
 
 Thou hast laid thy magic wand, 
 On the woods and scenes about us, 
 
 And rich verdure clothes the land. 
 
 vSee the wheatfields turning yellow, 
 As they follow nature's plan, 
 
 Slowly storing up their treasures, 
 For the use of toiling man. 
 
 See the grasses in the meadows, 
 On a gladsome summer day, 
 
 Bowing as the winds sweep o'er them; 
 Soon to fall as scented haj'. 
 
Summer. 
 
 Noble orchards, heavy ladeued 
 
 With the bouuty of their fruit, 
 Which the fanner watches proudly, 
 Growing only kinds that suit. 
 
 Varied changes of the climate 
 
 And the soil in which they grow. 
 
 Ever ready for improvement 
 
 In the kinds he loves to show. 
 
 Summer's riches are a pleasure. 
 If one pauses for a while 
 
 To observe the priceless beauty 
 That is nurtured by her smile. 
 
 Let us wander through the meadow. 
 To the noisy little brook, 
 
 There to find the wealth of Nature, 
 And to read her like a book. 
 
 99 
 
1 00 Hou rs hnproved. 
 
 We cavi look upou the landscape, 
 Aud behold the glowing sun 
 
 Rising in his kingly splendor 
 
 When the day hasjust begun. 
 
 What a scene of wondrous beauty 
 Calmly lies exposed to view! 
 
 Sloping fields that meet the water 
 
 Of a brook that wanders through. 
 
 Fields of wheat with tossing billows, 
 Like the movement of the sea; 
 
 Fields of corn with blades that rustle 
 In the breezes joyously. 
 
 Winding through the waving meadows 
 Brooklets loiter on their way. 
 
 As they seek the shaded corn-field. 
 In the beauty of the day. 
 
Siinivier. loi 
 
 From the brooklet, higher, higher, 
 Rise the fields toward the east, 
 
 Till the suu iu gorgeous splendor 
 Gives the world a goldeu feast. 
 
 We cau feel the touch immortal. 
 Moving iu the troubled breast; 
 
 It arouses strange emotious, 
 And ambition gives unrest. 
 
 How we long to paint the picture, 
 And imbue it with the skill 
 
 That would live for countless ages, 
 
 When our frames are cold and sLill. 
 
 We can ponder vital questions, 
 As we study nature's laws; 
 
 Watching for some strange occurrence, 
 Seeking for its hidden cause. 
 
102 Hours Improved. 
 
 As we wander to a woodland 
 
 That has crowned a modest bill 
 
 There to search for priceless treasures 
 Wrought by Nature's matchless skill, 
 
 We ma}^ be so wrapt in wonder, 
 
 That a storm breaks o'er our heads, 
 
 Ere aware that it is coming. 
 
 Till its darkness round us spreads. 
 
 How the lightnings flash and quiver 
 As they rend the sturdy oak; 
 
 Sending splinters 'cross our pathway; 
 Blinding us at every stroke. 
 
 And the raindrops fall in torrents, 
 While the driving gusts of wiud 
 
 Sweep the sheets of water past us 
 Ere a shelter we can find. 
 
Slimmer. 103 
 
 Great trees bend aud crash about us; 
 
 Giauls who have stood for years, 
 Seem to fall without a struggle; 
 
 Filling us with vagrant fears. 
 
 Dripping wet we find a shelter 
 
 From the rain and howling blast, 
 
 There to wait until the fury 
 
 Of the storm has slowly passed. 
 
 Soon the lowering clouds have broken. 
 And the sun sends forth his light, 
 
 To adorn the earth with splendor. 
 Pleasing to our mortal sight. 
 
 Then we journej' slowly homeward. 
 
 Thrilled with pleasure at the thought 
 
 Of a world so full of wonders, 
 Which a deity has wrought. 
 
104 • Hours Improved, 
 
 Day by day the sun grows warmer; 
 
 Riper grows the golden grain; 
 All is ready for the master, 
 
 To reward his toil again. 
 
 Then the farmer reaps the hat vest 
 
 With a clatter and a din; 
 Ready by the early sunrise 
 
 For his workmen to begin. 
 
 When the grass and grains are gathered 
 From the fields and stored away, 
 
 He can rest from weary labor. 
 
 Ah, what peace his thoughts convey! 
 
 He is rich since he is happ}', 
 
 And his debts are fairly paid; 
 
 He is free and independent, 
 
 Save on Nature's matchless aid, 
 
Summer, 105 
 
 Yes, the summer is most fruitful; 
 
 What she gives us is the best; 
 Better, sweeter to our fancies, 
 
 Thau the bloom of all the rest. 
 
 lu the evening as we ponder 
 
 On the days that are no more; 
 
 Building castles for the future 
 
 Which are broken by the score. 
 
 We may see the graceful motion 
 Of the spotted whip-poor-will, 
 
 As it flies in early evening. 
 
 Open-mouthed to catch its fill; 
 
 Opened mouthed to catch the insects 
 As they float with lazy hum, 
 
 Round the mansion's stately chimneys 
 And the modest cottage luin. 
 
io6 Hours Improved. 
 
 Sitting in the yard to watch them, 
 With the slow approach of dusk, 
 
 Well contented with our labor, 
 
 Who would be an awkward lusk? 
 
 From the city to the country. 
 
 We can go for health and peace, 
 
 To enjoy the breath of sunshine. 
 
 While her beauties still increase. 
 
 We will glorify the Summer, 
 
 We will praise her ever more. 
 
 For her treasures are the richest, 
 That the seasons have in store. 
 
A II i limn. 107 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Spring and Summer both are pleasant, 
 So is Autumn when it comes, 
 
 Bringing other kinds of gladness. 
 To enliven hearts and homes. 
 
 Here the ash tree, there the oak tree 
 Drops a leaf upon the ground, 
 
 As the gentle breezes murmur. 
 
 With a distant, mournful sound. 
 
 We can hear the noisy insects, 
 
 As they keep their lowly way. 
 
 Ever busy and contented 
 
 With their labors for the day.- 
 
lo8 IJoius l))ipyoi'cd. 
 
 Living, dying and decaying, 
 
 Each one striving for bis own; 
 
 Rich in undiscovered greatness: 
 Keys to science yet unknown. 
 
 It is wonderful to notice. 
 
 How they often gain their ends. 
 And their chirpings are but signals 
 
 To their mates and insect friends. 
 
 All things seem to have a language; 
 
 From the lowest up to man. 
 But we do not understand them, 
 
 And I fear we never can. 
 
 I have listened to the cricket. 
 
 When he sang unto his mate; 
 
 Certain accents in his music, 
 I could readilv translate. 
 
Auluiini. 109 
 
 So it is with other creatures; 
 
 Every one asserts some claim, 
 That it has on Mother Nature, 
 
 When distress afflicts its frame. 
 
 Ah, the knowledge that is given, 
 As one watches them at play. 
 
 Is well worth the little moments, 
 
 .Spent in learning what they say. 
 
 Autumn seems to be the season. 
 
 When the plants prepare for death; 
 
 Shielding offsprings from the Winter, 
 When it comes with icy breath. 
 
 Birds and squirrels, hurry-skurr}-. 
 Hasten to complete their stores; 
 
 Geese and pigeons flj'ing southward. 
 Seek for more congenial shores. 
 
i lo Hours Improved. 
 
 When the leaves fall from the brandies. 
 
 In their places they leave buds, 
 Clothed in blankets for protection, 
 
 From the Winter's chilling floods. 
 
 It is pleasant in the autumn, 
 
 To observe the stead}' change, 
 
 That is stealing over nature. 
 
 Clothing earth with vesture strange. 
 
 How it transform field and forest. 
 From a world of living green, 
 
 To a mass of 1)rown and scarlet, 
 That give beauty lo the scene. 
 
 All this work is done with neatness, 
 By a hand that is unseen. 
 
 Giving nature more enchantment. 
 Than appears in living green. 
 
A lit mil II. 1 1 f 
 
 In the woodland, thick with timber, 
 We can find the giant form 
 
 Of some mighty, fallen monarch, 
 Which was broken by the storm. 
 
 There it lies among the lowly, 
 
 Slowly going to decay; 
 Stately even in its downfall; 
 
 Crushed and broken in the way. 
 
 We will wonder why it flourished; 
 
 Why it grew from year to }-ear; 
 Why decay should overtake it; 
 
 Why its form should disappear. 
 
 It was noble in its structure; 
 
 It was free from blighting sin, 
 But in perishing as we do, 
 
 Naught reveals why it has been. 
 
: J Join s liiipyovcd. 
 
 Thus we pouder on existence, 
 
 Its relation to ourselves; 
 To the flora and the fauna, 
 
 Into which our science delves 
 
 All must perish. Dissolution 
 
 Comes to claim the living throng. 
 
 As we move along life's pathway'. 
 
 What redeems the world from wrong? 
 
 Autumn prolucts have more value, 
 
 To the scientific miud. 
 Than the treasures. Spring and Summer, 
 
 In their precincts have confined. 
 
 Then are found the rarest species. 
 
 Which will rise to bloom once more; 
 
 Then we notice what provisions 
 Nature takes into her store. 
 
A II til 111)1. 113 
 
 To provide against the winter 
 
 And be ready once again 
 When the Spring-time and the Summer 
 
 Have renewed their clouds and raiu. 
 
 Man is growing. Art is growing; 
 
 vScieuce guides them on their way: 
 They must live and die together, 
 
 Time allows them no delay. 
 
 The}' may flourish for a season, 
 
 With the principle of life. 
 Urging them to reach distinction. 
 
 Through a world of constant strife. 
 
 Time adapts them to each other, 
 Then away their secrets fly; 
 
 PVom the smallest to the greatest. 
 
 They have lived and they must die. 
 
1 14 Hours Iiiiproi'Cii, 
 
 We have noticed in the morning, 
 
 How the leaves -wave stiff and white, 
 When the moisture from the heavens, 
 Froze upon them in the night. 
 
 Like an old man in his dotage, 
 
 Every leaf is touched b3' death; 
 
 Gray and grizzled by its contact, 
 With the Autumn's icy breath. 
 
 O, how wonderful is nature, 
 
 And how strange it seems to be. 
 
 That a man grows gray, to perish 
 Like the leaf upon the tree! 
 
 What has blest his youth with beauty; 
 
 What has given manhood's strength; 
 What has filled his brow with furrows; 
 
 Taking all away at length? 
 
Aulumn. 115 
 
 He is like the plants of siimiiier, 
 
 Blessed with beauty for a while, 
 And his harvest time approaches, 
 
 With the sweetness of its smile, 
 
 To imbue his humble spirit 
 
 With the glory of the skies; 
 Then the autumn frosts assail it. 
 
 And it withers, droops and dies. 
 
 We heve seen the stately corn-stalk, 
 
 Grow, and ripen and decay; 
 Time has chosen thus to warn us. 
 
 That our frames will pass away. 
 
 Sometimes brightness, sometimes darkness, 
 
 Rolls across our earthly plain; 
 Olt when hope is bounding highest, 
 
 Sorrow comes to us again; 
 
11 6 Hours Improved, 
 
 Then the sunsliiae sheds its glory 
 Over forest stream and field, 
 
 And its powerful persuasion 
 
 Causes everything to yield, 
 
 To the vital louch that brightens 
 All the beauty we have seen; 
 
 Then the forest holds more grandeur 
 Than appears in changeless green. 
 
 Like the swan that sings the sweetest, 
 Just before its spirit's flight, 
 
 Here the hand of Nature's Artist 
 Seems to take his soul's delight, 
 
 In portraying to our fancies, 
 
 That which almost takes our breath. 
 Then it suddenly destroys it, 
 
 By the heavy hand of death. 
 
An Aiitumn Dav. 
 
 117 
 
 AN AUTUMN DAY. 
 
 The winds are rushing swift and strong, 
 To chase the fleecy clouds along, 
 While tiny raindrops, all around, 
 Fiercely beat upon the ground. 
 
 Our feathered friends make haste in vain 
 To seek a shelter from the rain. 
 Turn where they will and fly about 
 The subtle water finds them out, 
 
 And once again into the shower 
 They search for some secluded bower, 
 Where they may rest and shelter find, 
 Safe from the rush of stormy wind. 
 
ii8 Hours Improved, 
 
 If such a place they gain at last 
 
 They rest in safety from the blast. 
 
 Their wings they fold, their cyis they close 
 
 And settle into calm repose. 
 
 The giant trees that toss on high 
 Their noisy branches to the sky, 
 Like watchful soldiers, tall and grim, 
 Are dripping wet in bole and limb. 
 
 The wood-mouse leaves his dripping nest, 
 And creeping forth he goes in quest 
 Of some dry place among the leaves 
 Where he is safe as he believes. 
 
 The silent hawk with watchful eyes 
 At length the trembling mouse espies, 
 Aud swiftly dashes on his prey. 
 To gorge himself aud fly away. 
 
An Autumn Day, 119 
 
 The squirrel leaps from tree to tree; 
 Descends their trunks most fearlessly, 
 And slowly bends his head to drink 
 A draught from show'r born lakelet's brink, 
 
 But at the rustle of a leaf, 
 He starts, and trembles like a thief; 
 A moment pauses, then he flies. 
 While fear dilates his flashing eyes. 
 
 With doleful cry the hooting owl 
 Gives answer to the raccoon's howl, 
 But keeps his nest till night comes down, 
 To hide the forest's dusky brown, 
 
 And hidden ii-i the fallen grass. 
 
 From which it springs forth as you pass, 
 
 The timid hare with nimble feet. 
 
 Is chased by grayhound strong and fleet. 
 
I20 Hours Improved. 
 
 But quickly through the copse-wood ground, 
 
 The hare escapes the eager hound, 
 
 Who once defeated in the race, 
 
 Turns homeward from his bootless chase. 
 
 Then far away among the fog, 
 The pheasant sits upon his log; 
 With fanning wing he beats his drum, 
 To mingle with the raindrops hum. 
 
 The patter, patter of the raiu, 
 
 Calls me to consciousness again; 
 
 I wonder how I could forget 
 
 My hat and clothes were wringing wet. 
 
 Then glancing at the gloomy sky 
 I see the storm will soon pass by; 
 And with the moist air in my face, 
 I homeward wend my listless pace. 
 
An AuticDDi Day. 12] 
 
 At last the raindrops cease to fall 
 And niist has settled over all, 
 But soon the mist has cleared away 
 While in its stead the sunbeams play, 
 
 For now the winds their fury o'er 
 Pursue the fleeing clouds no more, 
 The clouds, when once their duty's done, 
 Are swallowed by the thirsty sun. 
 
122 Hou rs Improved, 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Wheu llie oak-trees iu the forest 
 
 Scatter leaves about the plain, 
 And the zephyrs iu their passage, 
 
 vSeek for beauty there iu vaiu. 
 We must feel a shade of sadness, 
 
 For the beauty that has fled; 
 For the work that nature wasted, 
 
 In the fields that look so dead. 
 What was once so rife with beauty 
 
 Now looks cheerless and forlorn, 
 Since the branches of their verdure, 
 
 By the the Autumn, have been shorn. 
 How the oak-tree's leafless branches 
 
 In the breezes bending low, 
 Every murmur, sadly murmur. 
 
 As they waver to and fro. 
 
Winter. 123 
 
 How the}- grumble at the North-wiud, 
 
 Who has robbed them of their joy, 
 Aud perverted all their beauty 
 
 To a dull and base alloy. 
 Keen and cutting it is blowing 
 
 As it comes with rush and roar; 
 Hoarsely moaning round the gables, 
 
 Creeping in beneath the door. 
 Hark! with almost human accent. 
 
 Comes a faint and dismal groan, 
 Filled with deep, soul-stirring pathos, 
 
 Like a soldier's dying moan. 
 By aud by the snow-clouds gather 
 
 See the flakes begin to fall! 
 Slowly! slowly! Faster! faster! 
 
 Till at last the}' cover all! 
 Then the North-wind whispers terror 
 
 Of the days that soon will come. 
 And we see by fancy's painting. 
 
 Much distress and horror dumb. 
 
1 24 Ifoiirs Impt'oird, 
 
 Some are warmly olail for winter; 
 
 Others shiver in the blast 
 Of that unrelenting whirlwind, 
 
 As it drives the snow-flakes past. 
 When the Intteruess of winter 
 
 Comes upon them unawares, 
 The\- are startled bv its coming. 
 
 And bow down beneath its cares. 
 True, they might have once provided. 
 
 For vhe winter's howling storm. 
 When the sun was shining brilliant. 
 
 And the days were clear and warm, 
 But some evil may have fallen 
 
 In the moment of success. 
 Which has led them on to ruin, 
 
 Full of want and wretchedness; 
 Led them on to foul destruction. 
 
 While the sun was shining bright; 
 Plunged them into degredation; 
 
 Into darkness black as night. 
 
Whiter. 125 
 
 They have lost the golden splendor, 
 
 That gives vigor to one's life; 
 They can only hasten onward, 
 And engage in fiercer strife. 
 All is darkness; all is sadness; 
 
 Hopelessly they toil along; 
 Nothing pleasant to sustain them; 
 
 Everywhere oppressed with wrong. 
 Yet the light shines just as brilliant. 
 
 When it glances through the cloud. 
 As it did in summer season, 
 
 When devoid of misty shroud. 
 But it does not warm the breezes, 
 
 Nor the grasses wake to life. 
 Ah, its magic pow'r is stolen 
 
 In the ardor of the strife. 
 With the ever greedy north-wind, 
 
 Who is watching on the earth. 
 For its wealth of golden treasures. 
 
 That will give the flow'rs birth. 
 
126 Hours Improved. 
 
 O, the pain aud bitter anguish 
 
 That this theft inflicts on man! 
 How they wrankle in the bosom 
 
 Like an exile's odious ban! 
 Yet 'tis well for us to view them 
 
 With composure as they come, 
 Aud examine with minuteness, 
 
 Each invader of our home. 
 Lest by threats of coming evil, 
 
 We should yield our present J03', 
 For the hope of sweeter pleasure, 
 
 la some vain and useless toy. 
 As I pause to view the snow-flakes, 
 
 Thoughts come crowding to my mind; 
 Thoughts of former times and people, 
 
 Which the present leaves behind. 
 In the ages long departed, 
 
 Writers happily agreed. 
 To the joys that come with winter, 
 
 Through its rest and revelrv. 
 
O, the joyous winter season, 
 
 With its ice and frosty air, 
 Bringing rest from toils of summer; 
 
 Bringing rest from summer's care. 
 See the picture of the fire-place, 
 
 With the family gathered round, 
 Happy in their sweet relation, 
 
 While with love their hearts abound. 
 They can demonstrate precisel)'. 
 
 What some poet plainly shows; 
 That it is a blessed pleasure, 
 
 "There to sit and toast your toes." 
 When the evening's work is finished 
 
 And the wood is carried in. 
 Children gather round the hearthstone, 
 
 Making merry with their din. 
 When the farmer, from his labor, 
 
 vSits him down to rest awhile. 
 He observes his sporting children 
 
 With a broad, congenial smile. 
 
 127 
 
128 Hours Improved. 
 
 Grown-up sons, and grown-up daughters 
 
 Are beside the glowing flame; 
 Each one striving with the other 
 
 To excel in every game. 
 They are loving-hearted children, 
 
 Full of life and living joy, 
 Happy in their youthful pleasure, 
 
 With no sorrow to destroy. 
 See how calmly they are waiting. 
 
 For the time so near at hand, 
 When their father's pleasing features 
 
 Shall enrich their glowing baud. 
 In his presence they are certain 
 
 To enjoy the sweets of home, 
 And his love destroys all longing 
 
 In their youthful hearts to roam. 
 By his virtues he has bound them 
 
 In the faithful cords of love. 
 And they look upon their father 
 
 As a treasure from above. 
 
Winter. 129 
 
 For he leads them aud instructs them; 
 
 Guides them past the shoals of wrong; 
 Helps them with their evening lessons; 
 
 Joins them in the joyous song. 
 Ah, how sweet when such reflections 
 
 Come to children far awaj^! 
 From those scenes that thrill their bosoms 
 
 With the love that passed away. 
 But there is another picture, 
 
 Drawn in lines of deepest woe. 
 Where the low and squalid ho\'el 
 
 Gives protection from the snow. 
 Want, indeed, has found his kingdom; 
 
 Sin and wickedness abound; 
 Joy aud peace have fled forever. 
 
 Leaving purity uncrowned. 
 Ragged offsprings; worse than orphans; 
 
 Children of unsightly guile; 
 Gather near the dying embers. 
 
 That will warm them for awhile. 
 
130 Hours Improved. 
 
 On in wretchedness the}^ struggle, 
 
 Through this cold aud bitter world, 
 While despair awaits her coming, 
 
 All into her gulf are hurled. 
 What had life, with degredation 
 
 So polluted and profane? 
 What had it to do with grandeur? 
 
 What had it but toil and pain? 
 Can the worse than beasth' human. 
 
 Living on in shameful vice, 
 Giving rein to beastly passions, 
 
 Know of love beyond all price? 
 What a contrast to the portrait 
 
 Of the home where virtue dwells; 
 Where the heart of happy childhood 
 
 In its purest rapture swells. 
 It is nice to paint such portraits, 
 
 When the howling winter's storm 
 Sweeps around the moaning gables. 
 
 If the house is snug aud warm. 
 
Wi7iter. 
 
 But there is a transformation, 
 
 When the painter has to bear 
 A few drafts of biting north-wind, 
 
 As they cut the softer air. 
 As a cold and weary trav'ler, 
 
 With the sharp wind in his face. 
 He is want to see a shelter 
 
 By the mountain's rocky base. 
 All his dreams of winter's comfort. 
 
 All of winter's great delight. 
 In the blasts that howl around him. 
 
 Yield to sleep and fade from sight. 
 He has fallen by the wayside. 
 
 With no friendly hand to save; 
 In a shroud of icy whiteness. 
 
 He has found a nameless grave. 
 In his cold and senseless bosom, 
 
 There is hidden all the woe. 
 That was straining at his heartstrings, 
 
 As he staggered through the snow. 
 
 131 
 
132 Hours Improved. 
 
 There he rests in that deep slumber, 
 
 In which neither smiles nor wrath 
 Are aroused by rushing whirlwinds, 
 
 As they sweep across his path. 
 Let us leave him in the snow-drift, 
 
 Safe from future care or pain ; 
 He has perished on the hillside. 
 
 There his corpse may still remain. 
 There are others in the city, 
 
 Who are quaking at the sound 
 Of the howling storms of winter 
 
 When their fury gathers round. 
 On their hearths there is no fuel, 
 
 While the wind howls at the door; 
 Naught to serve a scant protection, 
 
 But the straw upon the floor. 
 Public friends have overlooked them, 
 And their purse is friendless too; 
 Thus the days of bitter coldness, 
 
 They are forced to winter through. 
 
Winter. 133 
 
 But with patience they endure them; 
 
 Live and hope for better days; 
 Look with eagerness for springtime; 
 
 Bear with calmness all delays. 
 Lo! The winter ends in springtime, 
 
 When the plants are brought to life; 
 And the flowers bloom in beauty, 
 
 Filling fields with fragrance rife. 
 Then new forms assume proportions, 
 
 When the frosty blasts have fled. 
 And the lily is awakened, 
 
 From reposing on her bed. 
 Now I thank thee. Mother Nature, 
 
 For thy goodness unto me; 
 I will bless thee for thy favors. 
 
 Through a vast eternity. 
 
0tl,er T 
 
 ernes, 
 
The Dutchman and the Gun. 
 
 'OJ 
 
 THE DUTCHMAN AND THE GUN. 
 
 Some years ago, a Germaa friend, 
 Was called to help his neighbor butcher; 
 
 They took the gun and started out, 
 The dutchman talking like a Kutscher. 
 
 "Gif me dot gun and I vill schlay 
 Das pig so tet als donneration; 
 
 I dells you dot I haf no skill, 
 But you kan gif die exblauation. 
 
 I nefer dry to kill a pig 
 Mit any such a funny mochine. 
 
 You muss lie retty ven I shoot 
 To go ad vonce und schlachten ihn." 
 
136 Hours Improved, 
 
 "All right, my friend, I'll load the gun, 
 And tell you how to shoot the critter; 
 
 Just get up close, and aim it true, 
 And I am sure that you will hit her." 
 
 But when he loaded up that gun. 
 He put no bullet in the muzzle; 
 
 He wished to give his frieud a scare, 
 And make it more and more a puzzle. 
 
 He gave the weapon to his friend. 
 Who seemed to make a close inspection, 
 
 While holding it before his face. 
 To comprehend this brief instruction: 
 
 "Pull back the lock; aim at the pig; 
 Then try to pull the trigger quickly; 
 
 And if you do the business right. 
 You soon will make him look quite sickly.' 
 
The Dutchman and the Guii. 137 
 
 The anxious fellow walked around, 
 And tried to get a good position; 
 
 He seemed to think, success in this. 
 Would b3 a splendid acqiisitiou. 
 
 He took his stand upon a trough 
 That lay quite near his thoughtless victim; 
 
 Nor did he for a moment guess 
 How much his trusted friend had tricked him. 
 
 He sighted long and carefully, 
 Then put his finger on the trigger; 
 
 INIoved by his touch it instantly 
 Set all to cutting quite a figure. 
 
 The musket kicked him off the trough, 
 For Dave had made the load a crowder; 
 
 The pig went "wee!"aiid started off, 
 His head severely burnt by powder. 
 
138 Hours Im proved. 
 
 "Come, Charley, you have played your game, 
 And missed the porker, sure as shooting; 
 
 You should have pulled the trigger hard. 
 And sent the bullet through a scooting." 
 
 "O yah, I see, I miss her all, 
 Dis time I know not how to take him; 
 
 Der trigger look so ferry schmall 
 I vos afraid dot I vould break him." 
 
Uncle Hiram. 139 
 
 UNCLE HIRAM. 
 
 TO THE BOY WHO SWEARvS. 
 
 O, what an oath for 3'ou to use 
 
 Agaiust your trausieDt soul. 
 What right have j-ou to curse at that 
 
 Which meu caunot control? 
 A boy should be a gentleman, 
 
 Wherever he is found; 
 But he is not who uses oaths, 
 
 With such Satanic sound. 
 The fool who gapes along the street, 
 
 With but an ounce of brain. 
 Can use an oath with better grace 
 
 Than that which you maintain. 
 His footsteps have a shiftless tread; 
 
 His ej'es a vacant stare; 
 With scarcely sense enough to walk. 
 
 He knows enough to swear. 
 
140 Hours Improved. 
 
 What use have oaths among mankitiri? 
 
 They give our mothers pain. 
 Do you believe there is no Gorl, 
 
 Whose name you take in vain? 
 Whence comes the smallest grain of dust 
 
 That flies along the street? 
 Who made the helpless worm we crush 
 
 Beneath our careless feet? 
 Who made the earth, the distant sun, 
 
 And all the stars that shine? 
 What hand could guide them on through space, 
 
 Unless it were Divine? 
 How big is space? Can mortal tell? 
 
 If, with the speed of light, 
 W^e travel for ten billion years, 
 
 New stars will greet our sight; 
 And rushing on ten billion more 
 
 The Hue we make through space 
 Will be a mite to that beyond. 
 
 Whose limits none can trace. 
 
Uncle Hiram. 141 
 
 Both time and space are infinite. 
 
 We may go on and on, 
 Until unnumbered ages pass; 
 
 The end will never come. 
 How foolish then for mortal flesh 
 
 To curse and swear at fate; 
 When all he says is vain and weak, 
 
 With naught to fear his hate. 
 What is weak man that he may call 
 
 His bitter curses down, 
 Then sink upon his knees to praj'. 
 
 If Providence should frown? 
 His body soon will fall to dust. 
 
 And he will be no more; 
 While time and space unending still. 
 
 Are matchless as before. 
 Don't curse again, don't be a fool; 
 
 But stand an irpright man; 
 And happiness will crown your work, 
 
 If judgment moulds the plan. 
 
142 Hours hnproved. 
 
 Ten thousand curses right no wrong, 
 
 In anger or in fun; 
 An act committed in this world, 
 
 Can never l)e undone. 
 Then guard your acts, your looks and speech; 
 
 Be kind to all you meet, 
 And you will find that happiness 
 
 Which makes 3'our life complete. 
 
Uncle Hiram. 143 
 
 UNCLE HIRAM. 
 
 TO THE BOY WHO CHEWS. 
 
 What stain is that upon your lips? 
 
 Come, look into my face, 
 And tell me how you learned to chew 
 
 This vampire of the race. 
 
 A curse that robs so many homes ' 
 
 Of certain luxuries; 
 And clothes so many men in rags, 
 
 Their appetites to please. 
 
 It costs them twenty cents a week, 
 Sometimes a great deal more; 
 
 And in a year of time it takes 
 The dollars by the score. 
 
144 Hours Improved. 
 
 Some men have farms and chew them up, 
 Or burn them into smoke; 
 
 And ruin health and happiness 
 In bearing such a j'oke. 
 
 They tease some boy to take a chew, 
 
 And laugh at his grimace; 
 Not dreaming of the filth}' foe, 
 
 That he is led to face. 
 
 No doubt he feels much like a man. 
 When first he takes the weed. 
 
 But after years will bring his curse 
 On those who sowed the seed. 
 
 This appetite will lead to drink, 
 Then greater dangers come. 
 
 For indigence and pain and death 
 Are in a glass of rum. 
 
U7icle Hiram. 145 
 
 That mau who tempts a hoy in this 
 May think that he is smart, 
 
 But in my mind he seem to be 
 A model fool at heart. 
 
 How queer that men will fill their mouths 
 
 With such a nasty juice, 
 When Nature most indignantly 
 
 Objects to such abuse. 
 
 My mouth must be the cleanest part 
 
 Of my anatomy; 
 But some do not regard it so, 
 
 From aught that I can see. 
 
 Then cast the weed away from you. 
 And keep your person clean; 
 
 Let no disgusting stains like this 
 Be on your lips again. 
 
146 Hotu's Improved. 
 
 At man's estate the dearest wish 
 That comes from native pride, 
 
 May be to win some lad}' fair, 
 
 For yonr own malchkss bride; 
 
 But who would care to kiss your lips 
 From which effluvia rise; 
 
 That fill her soul with deep disgust 
 Which she cannot disguise. 
 
Uncle Hiram. 147 
 
 UNCLE HIRAM. 
 
 TO THE BOY WHO DRINKS. 
 
 I wish to speak to 30U, my boy, 
 
 Upon a certain theme, 
 Which agitates the public mind, 
 
 And is my private dream. 
 "How can I save our boys from drink?" 
 
 In this extremity, 
 I need some youthful feet to run 
 
 My errands readily; 
 You look like one whom I can trust 
 
 To do some earnest work; 
 Your face is stamped with honesty; 
 
 No duty you will shirk. 
 A giant evil in our land 
 
 Is running our boys, 
 Destroying lives of noble men 
 
 And using them for toys; 
 
14S Hours Improved. 
 
 That in the tempter's hands may lure 
 
 More noble souls away 
 From that true life where virtue reigns 
 
 The monarch of the day. 
 Down, down in vice the victims sink, 
 
 Nor often rise again; 
 Debased and shunned — I saj', alas, 
 
 For such misguided men! 
 Here conus an aged, ruined man. 
 
 With hair as white as suow; 
 His feeble limbs must seek support; 
 
 Flis trembling steps are slow; 
 He reels from side to side, you see! 
 
 The serpent in his brain. 
 Entangles him in subtle coils, 
 
 Which he bewails in vain. 
 He falls upon tliat ugly stone! 
 
 Come, we will help him up! 
 A broken limb! Poor helpless soul! 
 
 Gray victim of the cup! 
 
Uncle Hiram. 149 
 
 I know him well, his home is near. 
 
 Come, lend a hand, my friend, 
 To bear this luckless, gray old man. 
 
 Where surgeons may attend. 
 Now, thank you, sir; this boy and I 
 
 Were standing in the street 
 And saw the poor uian fall upon 
 
 The stone beneath his feet. 
 He had a fortuue left to him; 
 
 A fortune for a king; 
 But craze for drink has brought him low, 
 
 As it is sure to bring, 
 Those who indulge their appetites 
 
 In products of the still; 
 Which rob a man of wealth and health; 
 
 Of steadiness and skill. 
 Last night the rain was falling fast. 
 
 The W'ind with dismal moan. 
 Was sweeping down the muddy street, 
 
 I heard a frightful moan. 
 
150 Hours Improved. 
 
 A moving object in the mire. 
 
 That seemed to be a beast, 
 Soon took the shape of this old man, 
 
 Whose groans at last had ceased. 
 The sight was pitiful, indeed; 
 
 With hair so long and gray, 
 He seemed a mass of filthiness, 
 
 That must have lost its way. 
 His wealth, his home, his honor gone; 
 
 His children in disgrace; 
 His faithful wife destroyed by shame, 
 
 Too deep for her to face. 
 Such shame was hers as none can feel. 
 
 Who have not lived in wealth. 
 To fall the victims of foul Rum, 
 
 Which ruins hope and health. 
 I saw i't>// take a drink, my boy; 
 
 You knew it was amiss; 
 If you persist in such a course. 
 
 At last it leads to this. 
 
The Soldier Boy. 151 
 
 THE SOLDIER BOY. 
 
 'Twas in a fierce fought battle on the lake, 
 The hero of whose darhig deeds I tell, 
 
 Was toiling with his honest hands to break 
 
 The British pow'r, with screaming shot and shell, 
 
 Which spread their martial music o'er the wave, 
 And slew a multitude of foes that broke 
 
 The ties of brotherhood to please a knave, 
 
 And tried to place on men the tyrant's yoke; 
 
 On men whose freedom was their highest thought. 
 
 To it they pledged their honors and their lives 
 With stolid firmness as they bravely fought; 
 
 Fathers for homes, their children and their wives. 
 
152 Hours Improved. 
 
 While war and rapine overflowed the land, 
 And fllled the hearts of our heroic brave 
 
 With hate, that they more firmly might withstand 
 The shock that led to glory or the grave. 
 
 This youthful warrior, — who had long before. 
 Left home, friends and kindred far behind — 
 
 With hands and features grim with smoke and gore. 
 Fought fiercely, and his comprehensive mind 
 
 Was busy with the movements of the ships. 
 Obeying orders that above the sound 
 
 Of strife, rose from the captain's manly lips, 
 
 And served the ranks of Britians to confound. 
 
 They sought to sweep the Union from its base. 
 Or crush the spirit of our nation's free. 
 
 And trail the Stars and Stripes in black disgrace, 
 Before the king of England's majesty. 
 
The Soldier Boy. 153 
 
 Strong in the fight was our young soldier's arm, 
 
 For with its streughth was freedom's holy cause. 
 
 Around his life there seemed to be a charm, — 
 The wish to win his country's just applause. 
 
 The round shot whistled o'er his manly head; 
 
 They slaughtered his poor comrades everywhere; 
 Yet there among the dying and the dead. 
 
 He fought without a thought of yielding there. 
 
 At last a ball aimed surer than the rest 
 
 Struck down his right arm helpless in the fray; 
 
 But he declared that he would do his best, 
 
 Until they won or death should gain the day. 
 
 With one arm hanging useless at his side, 
 
 In vain they urged him to desert his post. 
 
 On this brave act they looked with native pride; 
 It made each soldier a revengeful host, 
 
1 54 Hours Improved, 
 
 Who knew lie battled on the side of right; 
 
 And by its aid on that eventful day 
 Our soldiers came off victors in the fight 
 
 And set their ships to anchor in the bay. 
 
 As days and weeks and month successive came 
 To bring such patent evils as abound 
 
 In any land where war engenders fame, 
 
 And reckless men with hero's wreaths are crowned. 
 
 Our soldier's heart grew sick of blood and strife; 
 
 Forgot his laurels won upon the lake; 
 He dreamed what loyal men must all abhor 
 
 vSince that they loved most dear was held at stake. 
 
 He thought with horror where his life might end 
 With constant watchfulness and ceaseless care; 
 
 The countless foes with whom he must contend; 
 These filled his soul with horror and despair. 
 
TJic Soldier Boy. 155 
 
 While quietly at rest within his tent, 
 
 With no one near to cheer his lonely hours, 
 
 He had full time to give his fancies vent 
 
 And view the schemes his terror overpow'rs. 
 
 In thought he saw before him home and friends, 
 And one sweet face with innocent blue eyes, 
 
 Whose lifelong happiness on him depends. 
 In slumbers of the midnight seem to rise. 
 
 It urged him to renounce a soldier's life; 
 
 To flee again to friends and arts of peace; 
 Where he could rest from scenes of bloody strife; 
 
 And his grim service as a soldier cease. 
 
 The wish to be at home again was strong; 
 
 It mastered every other waking thought. 
 His dreams were far from evil, yet the wrong 
 
 Which overcame him set all else at naught. 
 
156 Hours Improved. 
 
 nis mind was active, even as he slept; 
 
 E'en in his dreams he longed to meet once more, 
 The friend and loved whose image he had kept. — 
 
 A mother for a hero to adore. 
 
 The vision of his saintly mother came; 
 
 She beckoned him at once to hasten home; 
 To leave the field where trumpets sound the fame 
 
 Of countless warriors who have met their doom. 
 
 In slumbers deep, unconscious of his deed. 
 
 He rose and followed where the figure led, 
 
 And when he paused it urged him to proceed; 
 Such was the scene on which his fancy fed. 
 
 The wind was rushing through the trees; 
 
 The rain was falling with a heavy splash; 
 The air grew cold and piercing by degree; 
 
 The eye was blinded by the lightning's flash. 
 
The Soldier Boy. i^-j 
 
 He passed the sentry on that stormy night; 
 
 He sought for shelter from the chilling rain; 
 Pressed forward till a farm-house was in sight, 
 
 Crept to a barn and sank to rest again. 
 
 But watchful spies were on his luckless track; 
 
 And scarcely had he touched his bed of ha)', 
 When in they marched to take the dreamer l)ack 
 
 To where the duties of a soldier lay. 
 
 When he awoke imagine his surprise 
 
 On looking round at everything so strange; 
 
 Not for a moment could his brain surmise 
 
 What magic hand had wrought this wondrous change. 
 
 At evening in his tent he lay asleep. 
 
 But a deserter now he seemed to be; 
 His crime would make his loving mother weep, 
 
 And blast his fame throughout eternity. 
 
158 Hours Improved. 
 
 With paiu he saw he was no longer free , 
 
 And realized what he had done; 
 He knew that death would he the penalty, 
 
 In spite of all the glory he had won. 
 
 Then, like a soldier true in battle line, 
 
 Resolved to bravely face the coming doom; 
 
 Although his flight had been without design 
 
 No hand could save him from a coward's tomb. 
 
 They led him to the camp. A martial court 
 
 In haste condemned him to a traitor's death; 
 
 None would believe the truth of his report 
 
 Should he proclaim it with his parting breath. 
 
 Ah, must he die so young, when health and truth 
 Were both portrayed upon his brow? 
 
 Could nothing rescue this unhappy youth? 
 
 Would none the truth of his strange claim allow? 
 
The Soldier Boy. 1 59 
 
 Not one amoug the warriors in that band 
 
 But felt a tremor of remorse and pain, 
 To think that ne'er again that youthful hands 
 
 The rights of freemen should maintain. 
 
 With nerves unmoved and head erect, he heard 
 And bore his sentence with becoming grace; 
 
 He knew his story sounded most absurd 
 
 Though youth and truth was stamped upon his face. 
 
 But when the guardsman closed the prison door. 
 The lock made such a horrid clanging sound. 
 
 That shouts of battle or the cannon's roar. 
 
 When countless enemies had gathered round, 
 
 Ne'er struck such awful terror to his heart; 
 
 It crushed the vestige of his last faint hope, 
 And in the darkness gave him such a start 
 
 As he would feel whose trembling soul must cope, 
 
1 60 Hours Improved. 
 
 With phantoms of the slow decreasing night. 
 
 Weighed down with woe at last he slept, 
 Nor waked before the gleams of morning light, 
 
 Dispersed the darkness that his cell had kept. 
 
 "I must have pens and ink, and paper, too; 
 
 My friends must know how soon I am to die. 
 O, honest warden, ever kind and true. 
 
 Grant this request, though every oilier you deny. 
 
 When the)- were brought, with rapid hand he wrote 
 
 A letter to his loving mother, dear 
 To all the scenes which through his visions float. 
 
 Divesting his young mind of all its fear. 
 
 "My Mother, kind and dear," the letter said, 
 "You surely will not own your luckless boy; 
 
 But then remember when your son is dead, 
 That he declared his innocence with joy. 
 
Tke Soldier Boy . i6i 
 
 Ytt, through misfortunes of a bitter war, 
 
 Which long ago engulfed our native laud, 
 
 On fields of strife in which I must deplore 
 
 The deeds of blood that stained my boyish hand. 
 
 I now am sentenced by a martial court. 
 
 To die a coward's death before the blast 
 
 Of those unerring rifles whose reports 
 
 Have oft aroused my spirit in the past, 
 
 And to my heart has sent the crimson tide, 
 Renewed with native zeal and loyalty; 
 
 It filled m3' soul with thoughts of martial pride, 
 To fight and humble England's royalty. 
 
 But my young heart so yearned for ease and rest, 
 From these unwonted scenes of blood and strife. 
 
 That in a dream the face I loved the best. 
 Led my poor feet away, and now my life 
 
1 62 Hours Improved, 
 
 Must end iu sorrow, but no blush of shaine 
 
 Will stain my brow when comrades lead me forth 
 
 To shoot me for a deed in which no blame 
 Can rob the conscious spirit of its worth. 
 
 My willful faucy makes me long ouce more 
 To see your face before the bitter end; 
 
 Though all is peace on that celestial shore, 
 I must regret to leave so true a friend. 
 
 Tomorrow at the early break of day, 
 
 Just as the sunlight paints the eastern sky, 
 
 And wraps the fleecy clouds in colors gay. 
 My loyal comrades lead me forth to die. 
 
 If it were on the field I would not care, 
 
 But as it is I feel my pulses thrill; 
 A felon's death seems more than I cau l)ear. 
 
 Yet I shall bear it and be loyal still. 
 
The Soldier Boy. 163 
 
 Dear Mother, liow I love you noue can tell, 
 Yet I must leave you iu the world alone; 
 
 My Mother's kiss before our long farewell, 
 And I could die without a groau. 
 
 But that sweet kiss I do not hope to gain, 
 
 Which grieves me more than my poor pen can tell; 
 
 It palsies this poor heart of mine with pain. 
 But Mother, I must say: A long farewell!" 
 
 When she received this letter from her boy 
 
 The pride and pleasure of her failing years, — 
 
 He, who had always filled her heart with joy, 
 She bowed and shed a pious Mother's tears. 
 
 "O, can it be that he must die so 3'oung! 
 
 This boy whose weal has been my constant care? 
 Not if the pleadings of a Mother's tongue 
 
 Can show the depth of anguish and despair. 
 
1 54 Hours Improved. 
 
 My sou! The staff of my advancing age! 
 
 Why sho Id they take my darling's life from me? 
 It surely cannot be that in their rage, 
 
 They would forget he fought for libert)'!" 
 
 She paused and bowed upon her trembling hands, 
 While sobs of fearful anguish shook her frame. 
 
 The laws of war she well could understand, 
 
 But through it all her boy was not to blame. 
 
 "The pardon of my son I will receive, 
 
 Secure and safe before auother day; 
 I'll plead with those whose hearts will not believe 
 
 A dream has led my soldier boy astray." 
 
 vShe met the President in half an hour, ^ 
 
 And on her knees before him pled her case; 
 
 His manly form above her seemed to tower. 
 While heartfelt sympathy was in his face. 
 
The Soldier Boy, 165 
 
 She told her story with a mother's love; 
 
 She showed the lonely life that she must lead, 
 And lastly in the name of God above, 
 
 She prayed him to avert the cruel deed. 
 
 "O, give me back my noble boy once more! 
 
 Why will you number him among the dead? 
 O, save him now, and when this cruel war is o'er 
 
 Eternal blessings rest upon your head!" 
 
 He yielded to her pleadings, for the truth 
 
 Was evident in every word she said; 
 He granted pardon to the hapless youth, 
 
 And yet it might not save him from the dead. 
 
 The wa}^ was rough and distance intervened, 
 
 So that with haste she scarcely would have time 
 
 To reach the camp before the morning beam 
 
 Would flood the earth and sky with light sublime. 
 
1 66 Hours Improved. 
 
 A horse and chaise she hastily secured, 
 
 Aud ordered that the beast should not be spared; 
 The soldier's life alone could be assured, 
 
 By having staunchest equipage prepared. 
 
 A rugged pass through which they were to go, 
 Was filled with rocks aud led to great delay; 
 
 With these removed their progress seemed so slow 
 That dawn would come and find them far away. 
 
 But still they urged their steed to haste along, 
 In hopes that they woul.l not arrive too late 
 
 To check the consummation of a wrong. 
 
 And save the soldier from an awful fate. 
 
 They hastened down the gloomy mountain road, 
 Nor did they for a moment pause for breath; 
 
 It seemed that evil spirits were abroad, 
 
 To reap a harvest fraught with woe and death; 
 
The Soldier Boy. 167 
 
 A narrow path led round a rugged bill, 
 
 With scarcely room 10 drive the chaise with care; 
 
 The darkness was intense. With all his skill 
 The driver felt that they must now despair. 
 
 With cautious steps he tried to safely guide 
 
 The horse and chaise. With lantern in his hand 
 
 He moved along the tow'ring mountain side, 
 To lead them through the pass to safer land. 
 
 A spur of rock gave way with noisy clink! 
 
 The horse sprang backward in his sudden fright! 
 The carriage swayed a moment on the brink, 
 
 Slipped o'er the steep and dropped into the night! 
 
 The day was fast approaching with the sun, 
 
 To tinge the landscape with her bars of gold. 
 
 And hasty preparations had begun 
 
 To drive the spirit from its mortal mould. 
 
1 63 Hours Improved. 
 
 They led the victim from his prison cell, 
 
 And pity moved the soldiers grim and tall; 
 
 The feelings in his breast no tongue can tell, 
 As deadly silence settled over all. 
 
 He stood beside the coffin, bold and calm; 
 
 He asked them not to bind his flashing eyes; 
 Requested them to read a sacred psalm; 
 
 When this was done his spirit seemed to rise, 
 
 To seek the Throne of God. His face was pale; 
 
 His muscles straight and strong and motionless; 
 He faced the east, nor did his spirit quail 
 
 When he beheld the morning's loveliness. 
 
 The blush of morn was on the eastern sky, 
 
 And beauty seemed to breath from every bud; 
 
 It must be terrible in health to die, 
 
 While hope and youth are bounding in the blood. 
 
The Soldier Boy. 169 
 
 The faithful soldiers took their choseu staud, 
 
 With rifles read}- for the deadly shot, 
 And waited for the captain's clear command, 
 
 To give the coward to. a traitor's lot. 
 
 He raised his hand to give the fatal word, 
 
 When far among the crowd two forms appeared, 
 
 And in the silence there a voice was heard, 
 
 W^hich floated from the distance loud and clear. 
 
 "O, stay your hand before it is too late; 
 
 We have secured the pardon of the brave; 
 That soldier there deserves a better fate, 
 
 Thau the dishonor of a felon's grave!" 
 
 They laid the papers on the coffin lid. 
 
 As upward rolled a ringing shout of jo}'; 
 
 And on his breast his Mother's face was hid 
 To weep with rapture o'er her fearless boy. 
 
lyo Hours Improved, 
 
 A loving kiss upon her tear-stained cheek; 
 
 A loving hand on her devoted head; 
 While standing there so proud and yet so meek, 
 
 And he was rescued from the silent dead. 
 
Death. 171 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 A TRIBUTE. 
 
 'In restless boyhood, my desire 
 Was fame in poetry and song; 
 I stole away from those at home, 
 To seek for some secluded place, 
 Where I might sit and think and write 
 My little sketches undisturbed. 
 My pen was busy through the week, 
 And on the restful Sabbath day, 
 My boyish friends would gather round 
 To hear my toilsome product read. 
 Their kind applause aroused the hope, 
 That I might win the high esteem 
 Of other readers, more advanced. 
 In learning and renown, than these. 
 When I should come to riper age. 
 By thus iudalgiag in such dreams, 
 
172 Hours Improved. 
 
 I fostered that which led to ill, 
 
 And left me less than I would wish 
 
 Myself 10 be among mankind. 
 
 As years passed by and bitterness 
 
 Of strange and tragic kind arose, 
 
 To weigh me down and desolate 
 
 The castles of my early youth. 
 
 My mind conceived the rapturous thought, 
 
 That I was born to rise above 
 
 The plodding indigence that birth 
 
 Bestowed upon my parentage. 
 
 A restless soul was in my breast. 
 
 Which urged me to atlempt the heights 
 
 That lead to fame or let men fall, 
 
 Down, down into the darkest depths 
 
 Of unacknowledged genius. 
 
 The world was dreamland; ever strange 
 
 Were fields and forests to my sight. 
 
 I stood upon a towering peak, 
 
 From whose cold summit I could see. 
 
Death. 173 
 
 In hazy distance, forest trees 
 
 That seemed like slender blades of grass; 
 
 And yet I knew that when I stood 
 
 Beneath their branches in the shade, 
 
 I thought them matchless in their strength, 
 
 But distance made them look so weak. 
 
 That I no longer wondered how 
 
 The whirling storm could lay them low. 
 
 I looked, and lo! The morning sun 
 
 Arose to send his blessed beams 
 
 Into the drops of crystal dew. 
 
 That flashed the light into my eyes, 
 
 Until the meadows and the woods 
 
 Shone like a mass of priceless gems. 
 
 The beauty of the scene awoke 
 
 Strange feelings in my troubled breast; 
 
 And in my heart I recognized 
 
 A hand of might was in it all. 
 
 Some force gave beauty to the world 
 
 And filled the fields with active life; 
 
174 Hours Improved. 
 
 While man with wisdom hoarded up, 
 
 From sages who have joassed away 
 
 Is powerless to bring to bear, 
 
 Upon the smallest product of his mind, 
 
 The active principle of life. 
 
 He cannot mould that potent force 
 
 Into the least of his designs. 
 
 His great machines may move with power, 
 
 Yet they are dead; no life is there. 
 
 The little plant that grows and blooms, 
 
 In stagnant pool or garden fair, 
 
 Can give existence to its kind; 
 
 But his machines cannot; instead, 
 
 The offsprings of his toil and pain 
 
 Are instruments that take his life; 
 
 The pond'rous engine crushes him; 
 
 His mills and mines are fraught with death. 
 
 While he, creator of their strength. 
 
 Is weaker than his creatures are. 
 
 Thus from the heights I looked at all 
 
Death. 175 
 
 And lived not iu the lower world, 
 But far above surrounding things. 
 The chief and monarch of my will. 
 A strauger spirit never lived, 
 Than this romantic one of mine; 
 It longed to mount up higher still, 
 And fretted at this weight of clay, 
 Which held it to a lower sphere. 
 And furnished it with scanty food, 
 To build the structure warily. 
 In which the soul could store away, 
 The gems of comprehensive thought 
 To bring them forth and make secure 
 What it desired most on earth. 
 Maturer years did bring a change. 
 That led my feet to higher paths, 
 In which I walked where wisdom sat 
 Enthroned as pilot to the truth. 
 His short gray beard and beaming eye 
 Adorned his shapely head so well, 
 
176 Hours Improved. 
 
 That all who saw could feel his pow'r. 
 
 'Twas there I learned how small, indeed, 
 
 Were man's most loftj- aspirations; 
 
 I saw how little he could know 
 
 Of what the universe might teach. 
 
 While thus I pondered what I heard. 
 
 And recognized the magnitude 
 
 Of what the world alone contained, 
 
 My mind went forth wiih eagerness 
 
 To grasp what little I could find 
 
 Of value to my future life. 
 
 The halls through which my aimless steps 
 
 Were keeping pace with drifting thoughts 
 
 Seemed far too narrow for my soul 
 
 That longed to take some higher flight. 
 
 One morn with heart oppressed with woe, 
 
 I wandered forth to view the sweet 
 
 Sublimity of earth and sky. 
 
 The joyousness of spring had come; 
 
 Upon the breeze I recognized 
 
Death. 177 
 
 The perfume of her geutle breath, 
 
 And looking forth ambition rose, 
 
 To long for more than I could hope 
 
 This mortal dust would ever be. 
 
 I saw some evidence of life, 
 
 Made manifest in tin}' plants, 
 
 That grew along my winding path, 
 
 la soil enriched by former growth, 
 
 Which died and fell into decay 
 
 To furnish growth for other life. 
 
 The plant obtains its food supply 
 
 By some strange force which breaks the law 
 
 That binds the molicules of rock. 
 
 And sand, and unseen substances; 
 
 Uniting them in symmetry, 
 
 To link the fibres of new forms. 
 
 Into delightful harmony. 
 
 But one and all must share alike 
 
 The fate that leads them to the end ; 
 
 Death here; death there; and everywhere 
 
178 Hours Improved, 
 
 Deplored by all, yet noue coulJ liv?, 
 Should other structures cease to die. 
 Our own existence comes from death; 
 That which our bodies have assumed 
 Is made from fragments of the tomb 
 Where other creatures went to rest. 
 While musing in this solemn strain 
 I turned into the Chapel Hall, 
 Where oft we met to practice songs. 
 For entertainments of the week. 
 I took my place among the choir. 
 With careless mood to join in hymns 
 That waked no echo in my heart. 
 While standing there, the open door 
 Admitted with a band of friends, 
 A stately lady, young in years. 
 Whose face was, to myself unknown, 
 And yet familiar to the rest, 
 Who greeted her with welcome voice; 
 I saw her glance one moment fall 
 
Death. 179 
 
 Upon my face inquiringly, 
 
 And thea she turned away to meet 
 
 A throng who had surrounded her. 
 
 »She seemed to be a favored guest, 
 
 Among the friends who flocked around, 
 
 Admired by those who knew her best. 
 
 For dignity and cheerfulness. 
 
 She joined our choir and raised a voice, 
 
 That rang with richest melody. 
 
 Which roused new zeal in all who sang, 
 
 And put fresh life into the song. 
 
 I felt her magic presence, too. 
 
 And set to work more eagerly 
 
 To learn what my indifference 
 
 Had often led me to neglect. 
 
 All else gave way to earnestness 
 
 In va.y attempt to master sound?. 
 
 That led my unskilled mind astray 
 
 Until it lost itself among 
 
 The labarinth of notes and bars. 
 
i8o Hours Improved, 
 
 Then to my aid this lady came, 
 
 Without the arrogance that skill 
 
 Sometimes assumes when it is called 
 
 To help some poor unfortunate 
 
 To gather up the fragments that 
 
 His ignorance has scattered wide. 
 
 If she had been a flippant girl, 
 
 And giggled at my awkwardness, 
 
 I would have felt such deep disgust 
 
 That nothing could have kept me there. 
 
 She did not laugh, but with a look 
 
 Of deep concern assisted me. 
 
 Her words were comprehensive and 
 
 Exact; Lhey made the points so clear 
 
 I could not fail to understand; 
 
 Yet with such skill she managed this 
 
 That more of credit fell to me 
 
 By far than that which I deserved. 
 
 This was her way of giving help, 
 
 And I was quick to recognize 
 
Death. i8i 
 
 Her measure of civility. 
 
 This led us to be better friends; 
 
 As days passed ou we ofieu met 
 
 When we were passing to aud fro; 
 
 Her kindly greeting was returned 
 
 With pleasure and a smile of thanks, 
 
 Nor was I likely to forget 
 
 Her gracious magnanimity. 
 
 Some weeks thus passed away, but still 
 
 We seemed to be so far apart 
 
 Because of native reticence. 
 
 That I could scarcely call her friend. 
 
 We met sometimes to practice, too, 
 
 When labor for the day had ceased, 
 
 Between the hours of four and sev'u. 
 
 And she was leader of the choir. 
 
 It seemed a preconcerted thing 
 
 Among the rest, to walk away, 
 
 And leave us to converse awhile. 
 
 'Twas there I learned the depth of soul 
 
1 82 Hours Improved. 
 
 That crowned a nol)le character. 
 
 Her close discerunieut led to truth, 
 
 And I bestowed my high esteem 
 
 On her superiority. 
 
 We talked of music and we sang, 
 
 Because I felt my need of that 
 
 Which elevates the soul of man, 
 
 And leaves it higher than it was 
 
 Before it knew the pow'r of song, 
 
 While she was pleased to be my guide; 
 
 Most kind yet dignified withal; 
 
 A trait I much admired in her. 
 
 Although thus often left alone, 
 
 I did not dream that it could be 
 
 The slightest thought would cross her mind 
 
 In which my life had interest. 
 
 One day my class-mates stood around 
 
 And one approached me with a smile 
 
 That seemed to glow with earnestness; 
 
 He said: "Dear boy, you must be blind, 
 
Death. 183 
 
 Or careless, or iudifferent, 
 
 That you should idle precious time 
 
 Away, wheu such a prize is uear; 
 
 She is a jewel, rarely found, 
 
 "Which we have often tried to win 
 
 From that seclusion which she throws 
 
 Around her in society. 
 
 But she has steadily refused. 
 
 And waits for your attending steps 
 
 To see her safely through the crowds 
 
 That gather in the busy street. 
 
 Although her stately modesty 
 
 Would not reveal the fact to you. 
 
 We know it can be nothing else 
 
 That keeps her from society. 
 
 She loves to talk and sing with us. 
 
 And treats our words with courtesy, 
 
 But of us, has no favored one. 
 
 Confusion overspreads her face 
 
 When moved by impulse we have sought 
 
184 Hours Improved. 
 
 Her side without encouragemeut; 
 
 For if a thought comes to our miuds, 
 
 With hopes of her compauiouship, 
 
 She seems to read it iu our eyes, 
 
 And strives to check the words that rise, 
 
 Iu order to avoid the paiu 
 
 That her refusals give to us 
 
 As well as to her noble self. 
 
 But when we speak in spite of this, 
 
 She answers with such chosen words 
 
 That her dismissals are by far 
 
 More sweet, than w^heu consent has come, 
 
 From lips less modest than her own. 
 
 Thus has she treated everj-one, 
 
 Who has been bold enough to ask. 
 
 You are not bound by other ties, 
 
 And since we all have been denied 
 
 The pleasure of her company, 
 
 You, too, must be as one of us. 
 
 Or win the prize that we have lost." 
 
Death. 185 
 
 "My friends, I know not what to say 
 
 To such extended speech as this, 
 
 For you astonish me so much. 
 
 And waken thoughts of what has passed 
 
 Between us when we sat alone 
 
 And sang until the eve had come; 
 
 But no encouragement appeared. 
 
 In word or deed, on which to build 
 
 Presumption that such high regard 
 
 Would be bestowed upon myself. 
 
 I do not think that she will pause 
 
 To waste a moment's thought on me; 
 
 And I assure you one and all 
 
 I did not dream of seeking her 
 
 In order to monopolize 
 
 Her elevating faculties; 
 
 Nor have I noticed that she keeps 
 
 Herself aloof from company. 
 
 Nay, more, my friends, I am constrained 
 
 To think your judgment goes astray. 
 
1 86 Hours Improved, 
 
 If she refuses better men, 
 
 What hope have I? Now, rest assured, 
 
 That she is true to former ties, 
 
 And would not break them for the world." 
 
 "Not so! Not so! Thou infidel! 
 
 We all believe that she but waits 
 
 The kind attendance of your steps, 
 
 Nor will our minds be satisfied 
 
 Until, at least, j'ou shall attempt 
 
 To prove that this is otherwise." 
 
 "Friend Walter, you have made me feel 
 
 That it is sacrilege to speak 
 
 Thus openly of ladies' hearts; 
 
 No man could feel with greater pride. 
 
 That he was honored by her choice, 
 
 If what you say were patent truths; 
 
 But now I pray you say no more. 
 
 Nor shall I think the less of you 
 
 In whom I recognize the germ 
 
 Of greatness if you live aright. 
 
Death. 187 
 
 And strive to be a noble man." 
 
 This my answer took effect, 
 
 And their withdrawal left behind 
 
 A hopa that what they said was true. 
 
 I could recall a thousand things 
 
 Which I had passed unnoticed, till 
 
 The idle chatter of my friends 
 
 Had turned my wakened thoughts to them. 
 
 The mobile face and drooping eyes. 
 
 And other signs that I was pleased 
 
 To think my presence had aroused 
 
 To indicate her high esteem. 
 
 How much more at his ease one feels 
 
 When in the presence of a friend 
 
 To whom he gives his high regard 
 
 But not supremacy of love. 
 
 Than when he rises face to face 
 
 With her, to whom affection turns 
 
 With that deep current of the soul, 
 
 Which urges men to higher life. 
 
1 88 Hours Improved. 
 
 His love will oft betray itself 
 
 lu some unconscious act that tells 
 
 More than he cares to have revealed. 
 
 In thoughts like these I foi;nd such food 
 
 As led me more and more to seek 
 
 From her some hopeful evidence, 
 
 That what I heard contained the truth. 
 
 I half believed it, yet I feared 
 
 That I might take a hasty step, 
 
 And fail and fall in my attempt. 
 
 For weeks I fought against the hope 
 
 That rose and would not be repressed. 
 
 What right had I to seek a bride? 
 
 With no employment and no wealth, 
 
 Could I expect to win her love 
 
 From those who were superior, 
 
 In points of talent, wealth and fame? 
 
 And yet my spirit urged me on. 
 
 In spite of that which seemed to bar 
 
 Me from the slightest chance to gain 
 
Death. 189 
 
 What others failed to make secure. 
 Vacation came. The college halls 
 No longer echoed to the tread 
 Of many feet, for they had gone, 
 In haste to their respective homes. 
 A few lone stragglers, like myself, 
 Still lingered round the grand old place, 
 To while away the lonesome days. 
 The summer season had appeared, 
 And with it such oppressive heat 
 As June is almost sure to bring. 
 With coat removed and windows raised. 
 To get mote coolness from the air, 
 I sat with book and fan in hand 
 Reflecting on the strange events 
 That sometimes bring congenial souls 
 So near that they can almost feel 
 The hope their spirits entertain, 
 But sinks and perishes before 
 That happy union is complete. 
 
iQO Ho2irs Improved. 
 
 Before me stood the maple grove, 
 
 Whose shadows fell upon the lawn, 
 
 Where lay the adjuncts of croquet. 
 
 A cooling breeze came from that shade, 
 
 And gave such sweetness to the place, 
 
 That I was longing for a chance 
 
 To exercise my languid limbs 
 
 By playing with some skillful hand, 
 
 When lo! Beneath their canopy. 
 
 As if my thoughts had called them forth, 
 
 Two ladies dressed in white appeared. 
 
 And what was more to my surprise, 
 
 The object of my thoughts was there; 
 
 More beautiful than she had seemed 
 
 At any time since I had seen 
 
 Her first appearance in the school. 
 
 The play commenced, but aimlessly, 
 
 And once I saw them cast a glance 
 
 At me and whisper to themselves 
 
 A few decisive sentences. 
 
Death. 
 
 As in resentment of what seemed 
 To be my studied selfisbness; 
 And I was pleased to understand 
 That they had meant it to convey 
 An invitation to come forth 
 To join them in their evening sport. 
 I rose and laid aside my book; 
 Prepared my toilet and went down 
 To while away an hour or two. 
 They greeted me most cordiallj', 
 For time passed slowl}' to themselves, 
 And they were g^ad of any change. 
 The game began. So skillfully 
 I managed it, my friend would win 
 Without betraying my design. 
 She seemed so graceful in the art. 
 As triumph glowed upon her face, 
 That I was more and more inclined 
 To act upon my late advice, 
 And try to win her for my own. 
 
 191 
 
192 Ho urs Improved. 
 
 The summer eveniug settled down 
 
 With more of comfort in the air, 
 
 Than June is sometimes wont to bring, 
 
 And when we ceased to play, her friend 
 
 Excused herself and left us there. 
 
 Our conversation turned to books, 
 
 To music, and artistic skill. 
 
 'Twas then I learned that she would play 
 
 On Tuesday evening at a church 
 
 Quite distant from the College Hall, 
 
 And then I offered my escort. 
 
 Which she accepted graciously. 
 
 And thus our happiness began! 
 
 The Fall and Winter came and fled. 
 
 And while they passed I learned to love, 
 
 With such devotion as few souls 
 
 On earth are destined to enjoy. 
 
 It seemed to me that she returned 
 
 My favors, but uncertainty 
 
 Restrained the words I longed to speak. 
 
Death. 193 
 
 The time for partiug came at last, 
 
 Aud theu I told her of my love; 
 
 How it had grown by slow degress, 
 
 Until at last it mastered me, 
 
 Aud I uo longer could refrain 
 
 From asking her to be m)- wife. 
 
 She answered a few precious words 
 
 That I have treasured through these years, 
 But she requested time to think 
 Before her answer would be given; 
 
 'Till Christmas time, almost a year, 
 
 Aud then if we were true at heart, 
 She would reply to my request. 
 We parted, and my secret joy 
 Made everything more beautiful. 
 The time passed by and Christmas eve 
 Did bring the answer I desired 
 And which I felt aud knew would come. 
 My college days were not complete, 
 But June would see me through at last; 
 
194 Hours Improved. 
 
 And that should be our wedding day, 
 On which I left those stately halls, 
 To battle with a stubborn world. 
 I did not see her frequently, 
 For she no longer studied there. 
 But was employed in that great work 
 Of training younger minds the way 
 To live and move in higher life. 
 One Friday evening, bright and clear, 
 When she had finished all her work, 
 She came to visit with a friend, 
 Whose kinduefs she had often praised. 
 When we would talk of happy days. 
 I met her there, and there I learned 
 That she had chosen me that morn. 
 When first she entered Chapel Hall, 
 To be her lifelong champion, 
 Provided that I proved to be 
 A worthy object of esteem. 
 The more she met and talked with me 
 
Death. 195 
 
 The greater seemed to grow her love. 
 This led us fully to discuss 
 The meager plans that we had made 
 For our approaching wedding day. 
 No man could be more highly blessed 
 With happiness than I was then ; 
 For as we parted at the gate, 
 She put her arms around my neck, 
 And fondly pressed her first sweet kiss 
 Upon my lips and said "Good Bye." 
 A week passed by and as I stood 
 Beside a feeble classmate's bed, 
 I knew that soon his eyes would close 
 Forever on this busy world, 
 And then I wondered \i his heart 
 Had ever felt such love as mine. 
 He died, and we w^ere called to see 
 His manly form laid in the tomb. 
 Our sorrows could not be repressed 
 For he was best beloved of all 
 
196 Hours Improved. 
 
 The band that gathered in those halls. 
 
 On Wednesday I returned in time 
 
 To look upon another face, 
 
 Which long acquaintance had made dear, 
 
 Before the grave forever closed 
 
 Above that manly countenance. 
 
 And as I gazed again I asked 
 
 li he had been so blessed as I; 
 
 And wondered how her heart must ache 
 
 Whose love had been his sweetest dream. 
 
 God, it must be hard to die ^ 
 With happiness like mine in view! 
 Next day at noon I hasten up 
 
 To write a letter to my love. 
 And as I swiftly passed along 
 The open hall to reach my room, 
 
 1 heard a voice that called me back; 
 I turned and saw approaching me 
 Her cousin Howard, tall and strong, 
 Whose hand I grasped with pleasant words, 
 
Death. 197 
 
 And asked what news he brought from home; 
 
 He seemed afraid to speak to me! 
 
 "Have you bad news?" I cried in haste; 
 
 ''The worst neius possible for you,'''' 
 
 He said and turned his face away: 
 
 "My Cousin has been burned to death!" 
 
 "Great God!" 
 
 I scarcely know what happened next; 
 I did not ask where, when or how, 
 But sought my room and cast myself 
 Upon my bed in agony, 
 And afterward I learned the truth. 
 On Wednesda}' at the hour of three, 
 While I was bending o'er the grave 
 Of one poor mortal, I had lost 
 The dearest being earth could hold. 
 For one who loved as I had loved. 
 What awful bitterness was in my heart! 
 
198 Hours Improved. 
 
 Since she was gone; beloved friend! 
 Forever gone from mortal sight! 
 And I will see her form no more 
 With all its grace and lovliuess, 
 Among the hosts tbat move along 
 The paths my weary feet must tread. 
 I cannot see her move about 
 The places that we knew so well; 
 Where her sweet presence calmed my soul, 
 And led my mind to higher thoughts 
 Than those that savored of the world. 
 Her youthful heart was true as steel, 
 And it still seems so very strange 
 That she, whose days of usefulness 
 Gave promise to such noble work, 
 Should perish by the flames that warmed 
 The blood which flowed along her veins. 
 Now as I walk where once we strolled, 
 Uach pleasing each by some new thought. 
 That moved our minds to lofty flights. 
 
Death. 199 
 
 And made us more than common mould. 
 
 By these my hands are taught to write 
 
 This tribute to her memory; 
 
 Well knowing that the hours employed 
 
 In such portrayal of the past 
 
 Will not be spent iu idleness. 
 
 Nor can the reader of these lines 
 
 Bring much of censure up to bear 
 
 Against the weight of pain, which I 
 
 Am left to carry through the world. 
 
 My troubled heart beats fearfully, 
 
 When countless scenes of joy and mirth, 
 
 Where she has reigued the happy queen, 
 
 Come to my soul in its despair. 
 
 So young and full of gracious ways! 
 
 So versed in letters and in art! 
 
 So skillful in so many ways! 
 
 My nerves are shaken by her fall. 
 
 As adoration fills my breast. 
 
 And love is strengthened by each tear, 
 
200 Hours Improved. 
 
 I see the books her hands prepared! 
 I see the landscape they portrayed! 
 I see her skill a huudred fold, 
 Beyoud my living idol's self, 
 And love her iu the narrow grave, 
 INIore than my soul had ever dreamed. 
 How could she leave me here alone, 
 When youth was bounding in her blood. 
 To give her all her soul could wish; 
 To make complete her joys on eai'th? 
 Alas! Her form is laid away, 
 In chilling darkness of the grave. 
 Her spirit guides my wand'riug feet; 
 Its presence seems to touch my heart, 
 And point amlntion to its goal; 
 vSweet thoughts of her unchanging love, 
 Direct the tenor of my wa}', 
 And shut the passions of my mind 
 In this frail form of living clay. 
 Ah, what am I, since she is gone? 
 
Death. 201 
 
 I do not hope to meet agaiu 
 A form as matchless as her own! 
 Or hear a voice that thrills my pulse 
 With such devotion as I gave 
 To all her noble qualities. 
 Now, naught remains but Memory. 
 How sweet that is; how bitter too, 
 Since it reveals my hopelessness. 
 Of what avail are ni)^ sweet thoughts. 
 Since the}- are hidden in the mind, 
 And onh' end in wretchedness? 
 Her image, there upon the wall, 
 Looks down in pity on my woe; 
 A shade of sadness fills her eye. 
 How often have I marked that look. 
 When she was walking at mj^ side; 
 Her face appeared to be so sad 
 That it, indeed, foretold her fate. 
 Oft in my letters I have said 
 That some calamity would come 
 
202 Hours hnproved. 
 
 To rob us of each other's love. 
 
 How much her life was like a flow'r, 
 
 Which blooms in fragrance for a while, 
 
 Then falls again to Mother Earth, 
 
 To bring new beauties from the soil. 
 
 When meditations came, no doubt, 
 
 To raise her spirit into bliss. 
 
 The fiendish flames encircled her. 
 
 And caught her reason in their flash. 
 
 While Fear supplied her with its wings, 
 
 To fly to an untimely death. 
 
 Her fright was such, that by the way, 
 
 She could not see the element 
 
 That would have saved her from the fiend. 
 
 The ready stream was at her feet. 
 
 But could not give one drop to quench 
 
 The flames that lapped life's blood up. 
 
 One thought of it and she would still 
 
 Be numbered with her friends on earth. 
 
 O, God, hadst Thou inspired that thought, 
 
Death. 203 
 
 My future life would be one day 
 Of boundless thankfulness to Thee! 
 Why do I rail at God's neglect, 
 And thus forget His constant love? 
 With all the mercies that come forth, 
 From that unfailing source of power. 
 Yet can I keep from feeling pain, 
 When I recall the happy scenes 
 Which led me to such unselfish love 
 As falls to few men here below — 
 The love that angels give to men? 
 My woe breaks forth with greater force, 
 Since Death has claimed her for his own. 
 Her earthly pleasures and her pains, 
 Were passports to the joys of Heav'n; 
 And yet her death, without a word 
 To show that she had thoughts of me. 
 Is terrible to contemplate. 
 I, who had planned a sweet surprise. 
 To make her fond heart leap for joy. 
 
204 Hours Improved. 
 
 I thought of her and wrote to her, 
 
 But when I penned those lines of love 
 
 Her patient soul had passed away. 
 
 My heart was beating at the thought 
 
 That she was happy and content; 
 
 No shadow of her doleful fate 
 
 Disturbed my peaceful rest that night, 
 
 Rut sweetest slumbers touched my brow 
 
 And visions ofher lovely face 
 
 Made glad my heart with happiness. 
 
 While Death had touched her with his hand. 
 
 O vSoul, how could you sleep so sound! 
 
 How could your fancy yield such jo)-. 
 
 When she was in the shroud of Death ! 
 
 Rut thus it is, unconsciously 
 
 We sleep and dream while evils come 
 
 To other hearts as good as ours; 
 
 And grief and pain assail mankind 
 
 In countless forms and rise supreme, 
 
 Above our weak attempts to stay 
 
Deatli. 205 
 
 The tide of man's fatality, 
 
 Which leads us to the mouldy tomb 
 
 Where all the mortal part of man 
 
 Deca3's aad passes back to dust. 
 
 Thus Death, with pinions poised above, 
 
 Is ever ready to swoop down 
 
 ITpon our unsuspecting heads, 
 
 Or take away our dearest friends 
 
 By means that are too horrible 
 
 For finite minds to comprehend. 
 
 I sometimes wonder why it is, 
 
 That some are blessed with happiness 
 
 From silken cradles to dark graves. 
 
 And nothing came into their lives 
 
 To mar its pleasure or give pain, 
 
 While others meet, at every step, 
 
 Some horror that Ijrings miserj', 
 
 And woe and hopelessness to crush 
 
 The joys which make this life sublime. 
 
 The innocent do not escape, 
 
2o6 Hours Improved. 
 
 But often are compelled to bear 
 
 The cousequeiice of others' faults. 
 
 If oul}' those who were to blame 
 
 Would suffer for their carelessness, 
 
 Perhaps the world would see a change, 
 
 And reckless men would soon be scarce 
 
 Is it not strange that men will dare 
 
 The toils of Death, and when one falls, 
 
 Another spring to take his place, 
 
 Each feeling confident that he 
 
 Will win, though others may have failed? 
 
 We walk along and at each step 
 
 We crush the life from some frail thing; 
 
 While we, in turn, are set upon 
 
 By Nature in a thousand forms, 
 
 To fall as victims of her might. 
 
 Machines unnumbered, break the ties 
 
 That bind the spirit to the flesh, 
 
 And set it free; nor is this al', 
 
 The storms and passions of mankind 
 
Death. 207 
 
 Are far more ruinous than these, 
 
 And bring destruction to more lives 
 
 Than all the other forces joined. 
 
 Death is the wages of man's sin! 
 
 And Sin is awful to behold! 
 
 Each day records his horrid deeds; 
 
 Each night is witness to his crimes. 
 
 Where will it end? What will befall 
 
 Poor man in ages yet to come? 
 
 Is crime decreasing in our land, 
 
 And will the race at last be saved 
 
 From all the horrors Death can bring? 
 
 We cannot shun him when he comes, 
 
 Whatever be his dreadful form; 
 
 Though he may come in flames and smoke, 
 
 Or in the whirlwind's dreadful roar; 
 
 Though he may strike us in the midst 
 
 Of jo}', when life is in its prime; 
 
 Or steal upon us in old age. 
 
 When Slumber wraps his chains 
 
2oS Hours Improved. 
 
 Arouud us in our downy beds. 
 
 What Death can be so horrible, 
 
 As that which strikes us suddeulj', 
 
 When Youth and health have laid their schemes 
 
 For years of pleasure unalloyed? 
 
 Thus had I planned my future life, 
 
 With her whose innocence deserved 
 
 To sink into that calm repose. 
 
 Which angels bring, instead of Death 
 
 That brings such horror and such pain, 
 
 As my beloved endured. 
 
 What thoughts came rushing through her mind 
 
 To touch with woe unspeakable. 
 
 The tender cords of her sweet youth? 
 
 I cannot guess, uor none cau know, 
 
 I'ntil that happy time shall come. 
 
 When minds shall be like open books. 
 
 Which we can read without the screen 
 
 That life has thrown between us here. 
 
 I never shall forget my love! 
 
Death, 209 
 
 O God! I feel like cursing Thee 
 
 In my despair. How desolate 
 
 My aching heart henceforth will be; 
 
 How can I bow and worship Thee, 
 
 Since Thou did not stretch forth Thy hand 
 
 To save her from such cruel death. 
 
 No, I'll not curse Thee, whom she loved; 
 
 To whom she prayed with fervenc}'. 
 
 But I will think sweet thoughts of her, 
 
 A peerless gem of womanhood; 
 
 Pure as the morning dew that falls 
 
 Upon the flow'rs o'er her grave. 
 
 She sleeps beneath that little mound 
 
 Where naught can raise her from her rest, 
 
 Or call her to the world again. 
 
 How shall I live without the dream 
 
 That held my soul to Mother Earth, 
 
 Since half my spirit fled with hers. 
 
 Into that home of perfect bliss. 
 
 Where death and partings are no more. 
 
210 Hours hnproved. 
 
 Her fate was terrible, indeed! 
 I pray none else may suffer so! 
 There is a death so calm and sweet, 
 And peaceful when it comes to us, 
 That it is welcome to our arms. 
 No wasting forms; no long suspense; 
 But calmly we may pass away, 
 To join with those who went before, 
 And wait for us with outstretched arms; 
 Then we can say with thankful hearts: 
 "Farewell to Earth! Farewell to pain! 
 And welcome to the joys of Heaven!" 
 
 THE END. 
 
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