A SOUTHERN WINTER-WEEATH,
CULLED FOR THE MOTHERLESS.
CAMBRIDGE: FEINTED AT THE KIVERSIDE PRESS.
1866.

st,
DEDICATION.
PAHENTLESS and portionless ones ! Children of our Orphans Home! For you we have gath ered together and bound in a garland a little medley of Poesy and Rhyme, which has -welled out in some moment of agony from the stricken heart of the sorrowing, or been cast forth in some gladsome hour of mirth by the prosperous and gay; in either case, the writers little dream ing that these waifs of the brain, scattered or lost, would be made, by passing through the mill of benevolence, into grain, to be garnered, as the staff of life for a time, for those who, like lilies of the valley and the grass of the field, toil not, neither do they spin, and yet their Heavenly Father caretb. for them, and heareth them when they cry, supplying all their need.
as

PREFACE.
THE following original pieces have been writ ten by some of the ladies and gentlemen of Sa vannah, and are published for the benefit of the Episcopal Orphans Home in that city. There are also several pieces written by friends not of the city, which have been kindly contributed.
S-4.VAN3f.AH, January, 1866.

CONTENTS.

MOB

OX THE BlBTH OF A SOS ...... 1
PRAYER TO THE PITYING SAVIOUB .... 3
BCD HE COME TO THEE ...... 5
THE PASSION-FLOWER ...... 7 HcsrNGs .......... 9 A CASTLE rs THE AIR ...... 11 To CAROUSE, on PRESESTESG A " REGARD RIKG". 13

LlSES SUGGESTED BY A TlSIT TO BuONAVEXTCRX,

isl834. ........ 1*

THOU HAST BORNE AWAY MY BEAUTIFUL ... 16

LLSES ADDRESSED TO A XlGHT JESSAMINE . . 19

LlSES ADDRESSED TO TH1C REV. MR. W

21

HAST EVER LOOKED FOR MORSINO-STAH WHEN FLED? 22

THE MOTHER AND HER CHILD .... 23

THE SABBATH ........ 25

LIKES BY THE REV. I. LORINO WOART ... 26

LIKES os THE DEATH OF THE REV. EDWARD NZCFVILLE, D. D. . . . . . . . .29
LINES WRITTEN ON CHRISTMAS-DAY ... 31 To .......... 33

THERE s A WKE LITTLE THING .... 35

SOMEBODYS DARLIKO ....... 37

THE SABBATH ........ 40

To A " LITTLE FACE " ...... 41

THE STAR AND THE FLOWER ..... 44

Os THB DEATH OF

...... 46

viii

CONTENTS.

PAOl
THE VILLAGE CHTJKCH ...... 49
To OUK IMPRISONED ONE ...... 55 LIKES SE>T WITH AH ESGAGEHENT-RING . . 57 "Ann YOU GODS WIFE?" ...... 62 To A SOLDIERS DOG ...... 65 THE LAY OF THE SUN-BEAM ..... 68 To A FRIEND, ON HER MARRIAGE .... 71 OUR BBOTHSB ........ 74 THE PRESENT ........ 76 JUDGE SOT ......... 78 SUCH is LIFE ........ 81 OUR PASTOR ......... 83 THE GUARDIAN ANGEL ...... 85
LINES ON THE DEATH OF THE WRITER OF THE "VILLAGE CHURCH" ...... 88
BEFORE THE WAR ....... 90 AFTER THE WAR ........ 92 LINES TO A YELLOW JESSAMINE .... 95 LINES BY AN OFFICER TO THREE LADIES ... 96 LINES ON THE SENSITIVE PLANT .... 97
To THE OLD YEAB ....... 99

<Dn tijc SShtJj of a
BT THE LATE PBESEDEXT DAVIES.
|HOU little wondrous miniature of man, Formed by unerring Wisdoms perfect plan;
Thou little stranger from eternal night, Emerging into lifes immortal light; Thou heir of worlds unknown, thou candidate For an important, everlasting state, Where this young embryo shall its powers ex
pand, Enlarging, ripening still, and never stand. This glimmering spark of being, just now struck From nothing by the all-creating Hock, To immortality shall flame and burn, When suns and stars to native darkness turn; Thou shalt the ruins of the world survive, And through the rounds of endless ages live. Now thou art born into an anxious state Of dubious trial for thy future fate;

2

ON THE BIRTB OF A SOff.

Now thou art listed in the war of life, The prize immense, and oh, severe the strife I Another birth awaits thee, when the hour Arrives that lands thee on the eternal shore; (And oh! tis near, with winged haste twill
come, Thy cradle rocks toward the neighboring tomb ;) Then shall immortals say, " A son is born," While thee, as dead, mistaken mortals mourn; From glory then to glory thou shalt rise, Or sink from deep to deeper miseries; Ascend perfections everlasting scale, Or still descend from gulf to gulf in helL

Thou embryo angel, or thou infant fiend, A being now begun, but neer to end, What boding fears a fathers heart torment, Trembling and anxious for the grand event, Lest thy young soul, so late by Heaven bestowed, Forget her Father and forget her God! Lest, while imprisoned in this house of clay. To tyrant lusts she fall a helpless prey! And lest, descending still from bad to worse, Her immortality should prove her curse !

Maker of souls! avert so dire a doom, Or snatch her back to native nothings gloom I

to tfye gitping
I EATER to the pitying Saviour, That 1 may bear my part
With meek, unmurmuring spirit, Though it be with a broken heart. Praise for the hand that led me, Through my dark and weary way, From the valley in the shadow Up to the glorious day.
Prayer to the dear Redeemer, An earthly Mothers child,
Yet gentle and pure and holy, Unstained and undefiled.
Praise for that tie so tender, Strengthened and sanctified
In the heart of each earthly mother By the blood of the Crucified.
O Father, good and gracious, Who didst send down to me
An angel from Thy presence, To lead me unto Thee :

PRAYER TO THE PITTING 8AVIODR.
A spirit white and saintly, Loving and meek and mild,
Of this lone heart a comforter, Een from a little child.
And thou, 0 Christ the merciful, Who rememberedst on Thy Cross
Thy Mothers Utter agony, Fainting beneath Thy Cross,
Look on my desolation, " Think on " my agony,
And send the angel by Thy side, To take me home " to Thee.

me tome to Cftcc.
j|H, bid me come to Thee! Earths flow ers are fading,
Dying along my pathway, one by one: Oh, bid me come to Thee! The way is dreary,
And now the stars shine not, as once they shone.
Oh, bid me come to Thee! The tempests gather Darkly and wild oer my defenceless head;
My slow steps falter, for they miss the guiding Of that clasped hand by which they once were led.
Oh, bid me come to Thee! Glad sounds no longer
Spring with their sudden gush of melody; The low, sweet voice is mnte, that, night and
morning, Mingled with mine, in prayer and praise to
Thee!

6

BID ME COME TO THEE.

Oh, bid me come to Thee I My heart is jearning For the blest mansions Thou hast made my home;
Sweet voices call me, and young angel-faces, Upturned to Thee, implore that I may come.

A white-robed form, from my torn heart just parted,
Bestrewn with lilies, wears an angel-crown; Close to thy breast, as late to mine enfolded,
With pleading eyes on me looks softly down. Part us no longer, O thou gracious Saviour,
Mother and child, we lowly bend the knee; In Thy most precious blood made white and holy,
Divine Redeemer, bid me come to Thee!

WRITTEN IN SAVAXXAH, AM) PRESENTED TO A FRIEXD.
]ILD Superstition named the flower In memory of that awful hour, When He, whom Heaven and Earth
adore, The death of shame and sorrow bore.
They called the purple circlet there, The crown of thorns t was His to bear; And every leaf seemed to their eye Memorial of His agony.
T is fancy all! yet do not scorn The thought of adoration born; But let each flower that meets our sight Recall the Lord of Life and Light!
Theres not one flower that decks the vale, And with its fragrance scents the gale,

TOE PASSION-FLOWER.
That does not bid our hearts arise To Him who dwells beyond the skies.
In valley lone, on mountain height, All in one common tale unite; All speak His love, who died, that we Might live throughout eternity.
" That higher suffering which we dread A higher joy discloses;
Men saw the thorns on Jesus brow, But angels saw the roses."

|HILE musing by the fireside, The fireside of home !
How many sad and happy thoughts And tender memories come
Unbidden, as my heart recalls The checkered years gone by!
Poor heart! now throbbing wild with joy, Now bursting with a sigh!
Bursting with a wearied sigh, For the faded hopes that strew
Lifes pathway, like the fallen leaves Of roses bright with dew:
For sad and holy memories Of love, now lost to me!
Ah ! what a blessing was that love! So pure, so full, so free I

10

HUSItTGS.

Be still, my heart, nor dare repine ! Was t not a Fathers hand ?
"Why ever seek thy springs of joy Within Earths barren land ?

Nay! look to Heaven; thy bud of love Hath./Mfl fruition there !
Where earth-stained grief nor change is known, Nor sorrows ceaseless tear.

Oh, passing sweet to the weary Is the hope of Heavens rest!
To-night it seems so dreary! Oh, soothe my troubled breast!

I long to end my lifeless dream, And haste me to that shore,
To meet again ah! blissful thought! The loved ones gone before!

31 Cystic in tfjc y.i
|]HEN fancy, warm with youthful fire, Paints visions such as youth admire, Methought my prospects bright and fair:
T was all a castle in the air.
"With wealth I sought to fill the mind, Bribing all cares to stay behind ; But wealth proved nothing but a snare, T was all a castle in the air.
"With honors blushing all around, I sought my warm desires to bound; But honors gained with toil and care "Were but as castles in the air.
From hope to hope my heart was driven, Seeking, in vain, on Earth my Heaven; Nor could I yet to think forbear, All were not castles in the air.

12

A CASTLE IJf THE AIR.

But natures gloom at length gave place To light that beamed from Sovereign grace; My earthly castles bright and fair All vanished into empty air.

The eye of faith was taught to soar Beyond Times narrow, wasting shore; The Spirit showed a Temple there That was no castle in the air.
A. C.

I

o Caroline,
OX PRESESTISO A "EEGAED EESG."
JCCEPT, sweet girl, of my " Regard:" My aim t will be to prove
No spell can doser bind our hearts, Aye, not een that of love!
True loves engendered by regard; Else valueless t would be ;
T is this regard, fair Caroline, I offer now to thee.

Einc.tf

SUGGESTED BY A VISIT TO BUOXAVEXTUBE, BY A STRASGEK.

1831:

|HE air is balm, and scarce a breeze Stirs the young foliage of the trees ; While the gray moss, above, beneath,
In many a light, fantastic wreath, A net of feathery drapery weaves, And mingles with the glossy leaves. Soft odors oer the senses steal, And many a hidden flower reveal. Here, round the tall magnolia, twine The rose and graceful jessamine, With taper leaf and floweret fair, Shedding its perfume on the air. The waveless stream in silence flows, No sound disturbs the sweet repose, As if the world were lulled to rest," And slept on gentle Natures breast.

LINES.

15

Here pause and contemplate the common doom : Here Natures arched Cathedral shades the tomb.

The obelisk here rises oer the grave, Affections tribute to and from the brave. But now the air is stirred, a breath divine Sweeps through the woods, and oer the distant
pine. I hear the voice of God among the trees, And in the murmur of the rising breeze; Deep and sublime the sound, like oceans roar, When rising waves steal on the distant shore; While earth, air, ocean, with united voice, Utter His praises, in His smile rejoice.

Shall man alone in silence seek repose ? Man! for whose sake God suffered, died, and
rose? Adoring, let him humbly bend the knee, While his rapt soul ascends, O Triune God, to
Thee!

$011 fjagt fiome atoap mp tifiiL
| HOD hast borne away my beautiful, From her fathers halls, O Death !
Thou hast breathed upon my April flower With thy chill and -withering breath. From the yearning heart, and the clinging arm, Where that young head loved to rest, Thou hast borne away my cherished one To the cold earths quiet breast.
Thou hast paled the ruby lip, 0 Death ! Thou hast checked the merry tone,
And I pause to hear the bounding foot Of my little gladsome one ;
And those deep blue eyes, with their fringed lids, So beautiful to me,
I felt thy cruel hand, O Death, As it closed them heavily.

THOU BAST BORNE A WA T.

17

Thou hast crushed the tender flower, O Death, And spared the drooping tree;
Thou hast flung thy shadow oer my path, And made earth dark to me.
My beautiful, my gentle one, So guileless and so mild ;
Couldst thou not spare to this poor heart That little loving child?

I feel her soft hands gentle touch By my weary couch of pain,
And the tiny fingers in my hair, Where they neer may rest again,
And that nightly prayer, with its nightly kiss, Oh I hear, I feel them now,
As I look upon the folded hands And meek uplifted brow.

I hear the gush of the merry song
She is singing at my feet;
I see her start with a joyous shout Her fathers step to greet.
They cluster round him, that little band, And he looks on bis boys with pride,
But the hearts first love, and the fond " first kiss," He can give to none beside, a

18

TBOU HAST BORNE AWAY.

I thought to walk lifes thorny path With thy gentle hand to guide,
Nor feared to tread deaths darkened vale, If thou wert by my side.
But seraphs have called thee from me above, To share in their blissful home;
God! thou hast taken the happy child, Let the weary mother come!

I have looked my last on that angel-face In its calm and dreamless sleep,
And my heart, in its tearless agony, Was all too cold to weep;
But night came down oer my fainting soul, As they bore thee away from me:
Oh, my leauiiful, my treasured one, Would I had diedfor thee !

ADDRESSED TO A NIGHT JESSAMINE, THE GIFT OV A. FBIESD.
jjWEET child of Odor and of Sight, Why shrinkst thou from the orb of light,
And only yields! thy rich perfume When evening spreads her shades of gloom ?
Can " Araby the Blest" dispense A fragrance sweeter to the sense Than thou canst shed, in thine own hour, When music soothes with gentle power?
The sunbeams of thy natal clime Are warmer far than those of mine ; Yet in her wilds you bloom unseen, And here you reign a greenhouse Queen.
While sheltered from the wintry storm, No gale thy branches can deform,

20

TO A NIGHT JESSAMINE.

Nor crush thy snowy flowrets fair That throw their fragrance on the air.

I 11 nourish thee, sweet flower, with care, And from thy branches others rear, That when deaths touch thy root assails, Thou still shalt scent the evening gales.

ADDRESSED TO THE KEY. MR. W-

BY A FEMALE

FRIEND, ON READINO A SERMON OF HIS ON THE TEXT,

"AND PETER WENT OUT, AM) WEPT BITTERLY."

IFTED thou art! yet oh, beware, Lest human praise thy soul ensnare: Keep upward fixed thine heavenward
eye, Nor trust its gaze beneath the sky. Like Peter firm, now strong in love; Like Peter firail, thy heart may prove: Thy work is here, thy home above; Watch in untiring prayer and love.

eter footofr for toljcn flett?
HAST ever looked for morning-star when fled ? 0 r kissed the loved, and found the body dead ? P assed your pale lips from brow to cheek or
hand, E ach moment thinking how you ve hoped and
planned ? L earning in portion of a dreary day, E arths emptiness, and cruel power to slay S weet beings dearer to you far than life, S paring not child, or fond and clinging wife.
/ pause! Why murmur thatt is so ? L ife ofttimes is a scene of woe. L ingering illness tries the soul, N eediug firm patience and control: E nded, it brings heavens joys to view, S weeter for trials it has passed through, S afer for thorns which its path did strew.

aitfc
Am " Oh, my love it Eke the red, red rose."
H, my babe is like the red, red rose,
Just budding on the tree ! Oh, my babe is like the lily white, The Queen of all the sea !
His eye is like the morning gleam, To weary watchers given,
So bright, so pure its gentle beam, You d think it light from heaven !
Oh, his cheek is like the downy fruit Just plucked from off the tree !
His lips are like the crimson glow Of coral in the sea.
His voice is like the morning birds, That sings at Heavens gate,
Just like its wooing music-tone When calling to its mate.

24

THE It OTHER AXD HER CHILD.

Oh, his smile is like the dewy eve, When stars are shining gay!
His laugh is like the running stream, That warbles on its way.

Oh! weU 1 love my bonny child ! Could you his graces see,
You d say he was an angel mild, Sent down from heaven to me!
TaZulaA.

5LCOME sweet day of sacred rest, To earthly mortals given,
The gift divine, the rich bequest, * That links us strong to heaven!
A Sabbath stillness fills the air, And all is sweet repose:
The soul thats freed from busy care Can pious thoughts disclose.
Then let us lift onr thoughts above, And with the angels raise
Glad songs of holy joy and love To our Immanuels praise.

BY THE REV. I. LORINO WOART, WHO WAS LOST El THE PULASKI.
Written while at the Theological Seminary in Alexandria, under the following circumstances:
Hearing, one evening, a lady sing a song, " 0 Pescator," which was a favorite with himself and others, the wish was expressed that the air might be adapted to sacred words. In a few days he presented the subjoined lines. The peculiar measure in which they are written was required by the music. Had the lamented author written them under a presentiment of the mysterious providence which awaited him, they could not have been more touching and appropriate. The sentiments were suggested by those memorable words of our Saviour to his terrified disciples, " It a I."
N notes of comfort foiling, "It is I;"
Mid the storm in mercy calling, "It is I,"
Our Saviours voice once spoke,
When the tempest loudly swelling, Fearful death to all foretelling,
In anger broke.

"IT IS I."

27

Though raging billows toss thee, "It is I;"
Though fearful lightnings cross thee, "It is I"
Can calmness yet restore: 'Mid the billows' wild commotion, 'Mid the fury of the ocean,
Hope gleams once more.

O'er the troubled waves unmoved, -- " It is I."
In the toilsome journey proved, -- "It is I"
Can fearful doubts dispel: Still the promise-bow shall cheer thee, Still the Saviour's arm is near thee, --
All shall be well.

Thy spirit still upholding, -- "It is I."
The joys of heaven unfolding, -- "It is I"
Can endless bliss bestow : Crowned with blessing death shall meet thee, Messenger of peace, to greet thee
In love below.

28

"IT JS I."

'Mid the glorious songs above, -- It is L"
Praises of Redeeming love, -- ItisI"
Will give thee peaceful rest: In my court thy home shall be ; 'Mid happiness I '11 render thee
Forever blest.

ON THE DEATH OP THE REV. EDWARD XEUFVIIXE, D.D.
u Or ever the tlleer cord be loosed," etc. Ecd. xii. 6, 7.
|IFE'S throbbing pulse hath ceased to beat,
Life's fever now is o'er; No more shall we thy coming greet,
As we were wont of yore; The voice that told of joys above,--
That did glad tidings bear, -- No more will whisper peace and love
Unto our ravished ear.
No raorf the widow's heart will sing "With joy to see thee nigh;
No more wilt thou the blessing bring To dry the orphan's eye.
The sufferer on his couch of pain, The household of the poor,
Will long for thee, but long in vain, For thou wilt come no more.

30 ON TBE DEATH OF DR. NEUFVILLE.
But nobly hast thou run thy race, 0 Brother, brave and true;
Armed with the power of sovereign grace, Thou didst thy foes subdue.
The world, the flesh, the devil's snare, Thou trampled'st underneath,
And thine shall be the bliss to wear The victor's fadeless wreath.
Alas for those whom thou hast left In this their deep distress I
Oh, when of friend like thee bereft, Earth has no charm to bless.
Oh may they from the tempter free Remain till life is o'er;
So shall they then commune with thee In joy for evermore. Hon. Robert M. Cltarlton.

torittcn on
sunbeams gild the joyous morn On which our Heavenly King was born : A Prophet, too, and King was He, "Who groaned and died on Calvary.
The clouded sky and chilling air Spread their deep gloom o'er scenes once fair ; The moaning wind, like sorrow's sigh, No record makes, but passes by.
It speaks of hopes that once were bright, -- Of joys, that, like the glow-worm's light, Shed transient lustre round me here : Then followed darkness and despair !
And what are honors now to me ? True happiness I nowhere see ; In vain we seek it here below, -- At every step we meet a foe I

82 LINES WRITTEN ON CBSISTXAS-DAY.
Then look to JSlm who died to save Poor sinners from a hopeless grave, -- To purchase pardon with the seal Of what alone has power to heal, --
His precious blood so freely shed; The weary pilgrim now is led Humbly to bow before that Cross, And deem all else but empty dross.

|EAR sister! I have read thy heart In these simple little flowers,
For sweetly does their gentle art Reveal such love as ours: The snow-drop and the heart's-ease tell The tale of sympathy foil welL
Pure snow-drop! fitting emblem thou Of childhood's sunny mirth;
"With crown of green upon thy brow, Thou leadest Spring on earth.
Frail child of "Winter and of May, Too fair thou seem'st for earth's decay !
" Clad in thy robe of spotless white" Thou shalt not always be !
On thee must come the heavy blight, Child of mortality!
Then must thou droop thy gentle head, Thy tale of earthly beauty, said.
3

34

TO----,

Our cherished snow-drop, pure and fair, Faded from earthly view: Eternally it bloometh now, God's seal immortal on its brow I

Like thee, a boon of tender love, Was our sweet blossom given,
To lure our souls to rest above, Far from earth's storms, in heaven!
Sweet heart's-ease! dost thou truly tell, "Where lives thy flow^ thou shalt dwell"?

f>ere V a toee little Cfjing.
|HERE 'S a wee little thing in this world of ours,
And it moveth and moveth the live long day, And though the sun shines, and though the storm
lowers, It clattereth on with its ceaseless lay.
Over peasant and king Its spell it hath flung,
That dear little thing,-- A lady's tongue!
There 's a wee little thing in this world of ours, And it throbbeth and throbbeth the livelong day,
And in palace halls, and in leafy bowers, It holdeth alike its potent sway. Bright joy it can bring, Or deep sorrow impart, That dear little thing,-- A woman's heart.

36 THERE'S A WEE LITTLE THING.
There's a wee little thing in this world of care, And it sparkleth and sparkleth the livelong day;
No dew-drop that hangs on the morning flowers Is so beauteous and bright as its beaming ray. Kb shield can we bring That its shaft can defy, That dear little thing, -- A woman's eye !
There are many charms in this world of ours, That cluster and shine over life's long day;
The wealth of the mine, and the statesman's powers,
And the laurels won in the bloody fray: No spell can they fling That my bosom can move Like that witching thing, -- A lady's love ! Hon. Robot M. Charlton.

V Darling.
[The following are some lines written by a yonng lady pf Savannah. Several persons have asked me to place them amidst our offerings; and I have only hesitated because the absence of the young lady prevents my asking her permis sion. But as they were written and published during the war I have allowed my desire to publish them to yield to my determination *"> insert nothing without first asking the per mission of the wrii.r. It is scarcely necessary to state that the piece was written a.iring the war which has just closed.]
|NTO a ward of the whitewashed halls, Where the dead and the dying lay,
Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's darling was borne one day ; -- Somebody's darling, so young and so brave ! Wearing yet on his sweet, pale face, -- Soon to be bid in the dust of the grave, -- The lingering light of his. boyhood's grace.
Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kissing the snow of that fair young brow ;
Pale are the lips of delicate mould, -- Somebody's darling is dying now.

38

SOXEBODTS DARLING.

Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow Brush his wandering waves of gold ;
Cross his hands on his bosom now, -- Somebody's darling is still and cold.

Kiss him once for somebody's sake, Murmur a prayer both soft and low;
One bright curl from its fair mates takt, -- They were somebody's pride, you know.
Somebody's hand hath rested there; "Was it a mother's, soft and white ?
Or have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in their waves of light ?

God knows best, -- he was somebody's love ; Somebody's heart enshrined him there,
Somebody wailed his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer.
Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand !
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody 's watching and waiting for him, Yearning to hold him again to her heart;
And there he lies, with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, childlike lips apart

SOMEBODYS DARLING.

39

Tenderly bury the fair young dead, -- Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;
Carve on the wooden slab o'er his head, -- " Somebody's darling slumbers here."
SAVAXNAH, Jan. 14,1864.

I IS the holy Sabbath morning! Angel voices echo near,
And a sweet and pleasant murmur Floats melodious through the air! Soft the plaintive winds are sighing, And the breezes rustle by, While the little birds replying, Lift their voices to the sky:
SodoL
Every little leaf is tossing Like a gladsome child at play,
And the long-armed branches, crossing Like a pious saint to pray !
Earth her grassy bed discloses, Washed with dew-drops from on high,
And the pure and white-leaved roses Bare their bosoms to the sky: SodoL

"

face.*

[ HAVE been asked in sweetest tone, Cadenced by mother's voice alone, To write some lines, in little space,
Upon a precious " Little Face." I shrink ! for 't would be sad disgrace If I should fail, or should efface By lines, the charms my pen should trace ; But I will try to interlace The beauties of that " Little Face."

Oh, be not jealous ! little features, For first I speak of little creature's Broad, open, and unspotted brow, Innocent and unclouded now. In after-life, if God doth spare, Her brow will show the signs of care ; But now, if anger or distress Her hearing bosom doth oppress, She screws her eyes, her nose, her lips, Or clenches fingers to the tips. God keep your sweet unclouded brow E'en innocent and pure as -now.

42

TO A "LITTLE FACE."

Now shall we take the eyes in turn, And strive their destiny to learn ? What will those glistening orbs reveal As they behind their fringes steal, Closing their lids, as if to hide What constitutes a mother's pride ? Those eyes will turn, with love to beam, Or else will droop, their thoughts to screen.

And then the nose, -- a little puggy, -- But that belongs to faces chubby: The bone its stiffness will attain, When years upon it quickly gain. But while the nose is wondrous feature, T is not romantic, Little Creature! So we will leave it to reform, And beg that it will ne'er deform The " Little Face " it rests upon, And which it does so well become.

And now we call the mouth to speak, And hope that't will not in a freak Pucker its cherry lips together, Meditating in silence whether It will disclose the pretty teeth Which rest so quietly beneath The gateway separated wide

TO A "LITTLE FACE."

43

By dimples guarding on each side, Resting amidst the peachy down "Wherein it seems its smiles to drown.

And now the chin -will not disgrace The end of sweetest " Little Face." Set prettily, and in right place, The line of beauty there we trace. But after all, description whole Leaves out the impress of the soul. And clustering curls, and ears like shells, And head where brain and intellect dwells, And rounded limbs, from nature's mould, And hands and feet, ---- Oh, I Ve not told The half of beauty I could trace If not confined to " Little Face." SAVAXXAH, Dec. 18, 1S65.

Cfjc g>tat anb tfje flotocr.
jHE flower beheld the star above, And longed to reach her airy love! But longed in vain I A dew-drop fell
Into the soft and fragrant cell; And then the star was imaged there, Pure as if dropped from upper air, And gliding down from heaven had come, To find on earth a kindred home! Blest was the little flower to bear In its own breast a thing so fair!
Ah, longing eye! strain not thy gaze, Till blinded by the golden rays Of light, too strong for mortal's sight! Rest thee on earth! here seek thy fill Of beauty, in the pictured scene Spread round, of woody hill

THE STAR AND THE FLOWER. 45
And verdant vale; of Nature's mien Swift changing with the passing shade Of darkling cloud, and skies that fade Too soon, from morning's promise fair 1
Drink in the beauty round thee lying! Take earth, with all its joys, -- its sighing, Its morning promise, vainly fair! And trust to find in heaven above What fails thee here of light and love I Let faith and hope the dew-drops be That mirror heaven's light to thee! May 14,1861.

>eatf) of ----.
SAW her when a joyous thing, With gladness ever on the wing; Her sparkling eyes forever flashing, Her raven locks forever dashing, Like darkness on the steps of morn, Or clouds that varying sky adorn.
I saw her in the beauteous shade Of sweet Montpelier's hill and glade; I saw her girlish beanty glide Maturing into woman's pride, And felt that gay and buoyant heart Would surely make a shining mark.
I saw her in the glittering crowd, -- Of adulation she was proud, -- I thought how many hearts are glad, I thought how many hearts are sad, And I wondered often aa I gazed, Aud wondered as I smiled, and praised.

ON THE DEATB OF ------

47

I saw her, when she wearied seemed, And wondered if she ever dreamed That she for nobler aims must strive, Else her gay spirit would derive Sadness from* sources all unknown,-- Sadness from God, on Love's own throne.

Again I saw her as a bride, -- A father's and a household's pride! I saw her, and I wept to think How many, on the very brink Of desolation, stop to drink Of Love's sweet fountain, but to shrink When Death the icy hand will lay, And tell them here, thou may's! not stay.

I saw her when keen sorrow's shade Upon her brow sad marks had laid ; I looked! 't was painful, but I knew God's child must pass e'en sorrows through, That earthly heart He might renew, And make through earthly beauty shine The rays of Image all divine.

I saw her in her lovely pride, "With joyous infants by her side; Now she was purified, I felt

48

ON THE DEATH OF ------.

How strangely God with her had dealt. I looked for days of joy again To wipe away the marks of pain.

But keener sorrow yet was laid Upon her mother's heart;
The lovely baby round her played, Then clinging, had to part!
She felt that she must follow too; But Christ alone could help him through.

Then father followed infants dead, And o'er her soul an awe was spread: The circle once so gay, so blest, Seemed to be gathering to their rest. She gave her heart to God, and plead, As children plead for daily bread, That He her little one would spare, And let its life its mother's share I God took her little one above, And called," Come, share my heavenly love." And when I saw them side by side, I knew they lived, though they had died. SAVANNAH, Abe. 1865.

Cf)c ai
MEDITATIOXS Df AN EARLY HOBXISO WALK.
JIHE morning-star, bright herald of the day,
Now lifts her torch, and bares her burning breast; Now sinks the moon, now fade the stars away, "Wrapped in the sable shadows of the west.
Not yet sweet morning's softened murmurs rise; Not yet the deer starts at the hunter's horn;
Not yet the pathways of the eastern skies Arg printed with the rosy step of Morn.
Not yet the flowers their thousand odors fling; Not yet low-warbled notes the green woods hear*
Not yet the wild birds stretch the graceful wing, And float their bosoms on the sweet-breathed air.

50

THE VILLAGE CHURCH.

Fresh-burstiug beauties smile around unseen ; Blue waters sweep their crescent shores un heard;
No steps but mine now tread the village-green, No tongue wakes echo with a careless word.

Unlistened to by other ears than these, The matin clock chimes forth its mellow sound;
Unheeded but by me, 'mid'yon dark trees, The village church breathes sanctity around.

Dim twilight sleeps upon its ancient eaves; Its moss-grown roof with dew-drops is impearled;
Its pure white sides peep through the gloomy leaves,
Like Hope amidst the sorrows of the world!

Its humble spire points upward from the scene Of crime and care, -- black blots upon life's page;
Around its walls wreathe curling vines of green, Like smiles spread on the wrinkled cheeks of Age.

Let gentle thought her pensive powers assume, Breathe inspiration from the scented breeze,

THE VILLAGE CHURCH.

51

And cull a moral from each crumbling tomb That fills the shadows of these church-yard trees!

"Wave on, sweet shades! Life's passions come not here!
Ye list alone to heaven-aspiring hymns! E'en schoolboys passing by, neglect to tear
From you the nests that cradle in your limbs!

Wave on in peace! Your lot it is to see Borne to their tombs the young, the gay, the brave;
Your lot to mark, beneath some neighboring tree, The orphan weeping o'er her parent's grave.

"Wave on! No herds beneath your branches graze;
Over no common ground your green limbs spread;
Ye screen from careless and unhallowed gaze The sad, dull, turf-piled dwellings of the dead!

Full many a loftier dome, a nobler aisle, And walls more beautiful than these may rise;
Full many a statelier roof, a grander pile; May rear their splendid structure to the skies.

52

THE VILLAGE CHURCH.

Temples there may be built with rarer art, Perfumed with sweeter incense from the bowl
But thine, the richer temple of the heart, -- Thine is the purer incense from the soul 1

Can fluted shaft, or marble-column'd hall, Or gilded galleries, and the arches smooth,
Answer to Him who reigns the Lord of all, In place of worship, humbleness, and truth?

Can He to whom globes are but grains of sand, Who with one nod can crush the starry crowds,
Who holds the roaring oceans in his hand, ' And robes his form in lightnings and in
clouds, --

Who dwells where seraphs and winged angela hark
To the rich music of the planets' tones, And whose breath lit the sun's red lamp, remark
On earth the difference of a few rude stones ?

The Indian's hut, who through the wild wood roams,
Though it be built of reeds, if free from sin, He far prefers to vast cathedral domes,
With pomp and pride and luxury within.

THE VILLAGE CHVRCB.

53

No pomp, no pride, no city's show is yours ! No lisping priest here hurries through, his task!
No heedless crowds pass through these simple doors,
To cheat their follies with a sacred mask.

No actress wearied from the midnight stage, Here chants, for hire, the great Eternal's praise;
Choirs of young lips, as fresh in heart as age, Swell here to Heaven their consecrated lays.

No listless audience lolls upon your seats; No courteous tongue wings prayers without a thought;
The hum and buzzing of the bustling streets Break not the worship of this peaceful spot.

Farewell, sweet scene! Day's toils have come again;
The sky's red blush now tints the rippling shore;
I hear faint bleating on the far-off plain, And catch the plashings of the boatman's oar.

54=

THE VILLAGE CBURCU.

Farewell! be my last rest from life's alarm, Not in the thundering surges of the seas;
Not in the city's din, but midst the calm And sacred silence of such shades as these.

|RT thou remembered, thou imprisoned one?
Art thou remembered, when earth's work seems done ? Thou art remembered in woman's true heart. Sire and son to their children impart The hopes and the fears that oft struggle within, As they crush out the feelings that savor of sin.
"Who, who can commune with his heart, and be still? --
And yet, to do this is our dear Father's wilL Who, who, in his strength, can forgive the harsh
plan, That placed you where sympathy from fellow-
man May never descend on your poor, aching heart, May never tempt care for a time to depart.

56

TO OCR IMPRISONED ONE.

But we will have courage ! we '11 never despair I "While God is in heaven, He '11 hear earnest
prayer. He has not forsaken His children, we know ; He only has chastened us, that the sharp blow Hay make us a people more nearly allied To God, oft forgotten in seasons of pride !

We remember thee often, thou Imprisoned one ! When the day is just closing, or dawn has begun. We '11 remember thee often, whatever betide, And wish that we only could steal to thy side, To tell thee how many hot tears have been shed, How many brave hearts for the 'prisoned have
bled!

And if God restores thee to country and home, When Time on its pinions still further has flown, The doubt of our sympathy will pass from your
heart, And the fear of neglect will forever depart; For love, though unbidden, will flow like a tide, Giving zest to proud truth and affectionate
pride!
OCT. 12,1865.

SENT WITH AN ENGAGEMENT-RING, IN ANSWER TO THE QUESTION, " WHAT MADE YOU MAKE ME CHANGE MY MEfD?"
JT is a question asked with all the mirthfulness
Of a young heart, full of hope and fond anticipations Of the happiness of future years; asked with that Utter fearlessness of wrong which true love still inspires. For still, towards men, as towards God, 't is true, That " perfect love casts out all fear," And makes us lean with unsuspecting confidence Upon its object. But in me, what sober thoughts Thy question doth awaken! -- Thus to find thy heart Casting upon me its immeasurable wealth, As freely as the ocean casts its wealth Upon the embracing shore. What self-distrust Arises, lest them learn from me that anguish

58

LINES.

Of ill-requited love, and tenderness misplaced, "Which many a noble woman before thee Has found in man, in whom she dreamed to
find it No more than thou dream'st now. " God keep
me From such an evil day!" thou pray*st. And I
pray too, " God shield thee from such pangs!" for sooner
would I die Than be the one to inflict them. Yet when I
think What tenderness, what fond, unvarying love A soul like thine doth long for, from the man To whom, without reserve, it has surrendered Its every hope of happiness on earth, -- How it doth ever afterward turn to him, As plants turn to the sun, for light and warmth, Gasping for kindness from him, as the thirsty
earth Doth gasp to the overshadowing cloud ; How one harsh word from him hath grating in it More hoarse than thunder; and a cold look Doth cut her soul with anguish worse than
death! Meditating this, what fears oppress me! -- Fears of future tears, in secret shed,

LIXES.

59

With shiverings of the heart, and bitter grief; Eating, unrevealed, that life which I was bound To cherish and protect.

Oh but that woman makes Adventure desperate, whoe'er she be, that trusts Her all of happiness thus to one man's truth; Embarking all her wealth in one ship yet un
tried! Wreck if she make, thereafter naught remains For her but hope of heaven; for from hence
forth Darkness and storms and suffering settle down Upon her sea of life, extinguishing earth's stars. Often when I am near thee, oft when thou
send'st Some missive, fraught with unmistakable tokens Of thy hearts true love; or when my memory Recurs, as constantly it does, to all the proofs Which thou hast given of it, -- still, amid the
joy That overspreads my soul, like flashes of summer
lightning, There will come, thoughts of all that thou may'st
suffer. Nor can I sit beside thy mother, and observe

60

LINES.

The tearful tenderness steal to her eye, when thou
Art barely mentioned, but I tremble In myself.

Yet God doth know what sorrow it awakens Within my soul, -- the thought of ever being Cause of pain to thee; and with what earnest
ness I pray, that never word or look of mine May bring tears to thine eyes, or shadows to thy
brow. And He who knoweth all things, knoweth Likewise how much I love thee ; and that this It is which makes me apprehensive.
Surely then thy God will bless thee; And, for thy sake, me. And thou shalt be the
mirror Whereat I will dress my souL" And thy clear
life, Thy gentleness and many virtues seen, shall wean The harshness from my nature ; and from Heaven Thy constant prayers and constant piety Shall gain such grace for me, as shall secure Thy happiness, while God shall spare us for
each other.

LINES.

61

Can'st thou hope this ? then, dovelike, go on Building thy nest of love within my heart.

What can I do but promise thee, With such solemnity, as if I stood already Before God's altar, that if He will help me, My heart shall shield thee till it cease to beat. Or thou be taken from me into heaven ?

Hou
A lady who was one day walking in one of the streets of a large city, saw a little girl looking eagerly into a large glass window, in which were displayed delightful pastry and fruits. Unobserved by the child, she went into the store, and pur chased a basket, which she filled with nice things. She then went to the child, and told her to slip the basket on her arm. In amazement, the child looked up for an explanation. " Take the basket," she said ; " it is for you." " And all that is in it? " asked the astonished child. " Yes, and all that is in it," the lady replied. The child raised her eyes search ing]}- to the lady's, and asked, "Are you God's wife? "
jjTAXDIXG before a crystal screen, "With plate-glass richly set between, A little child, with eager eyes,
Beheld grapes, fruits, and dainty pies, And wondered why some never knew The pains of hunger, as hours flew, While many a child, with weary tread, Begged vainly for its daily bread.
A lady entered, 'midst the crowd Composed of hearts, some good, some proud. She saw the eager, hungry look, And from her purse she quickly took

"ARE YOU GOD'S WIFE?"

63

Of glittering pieces not a few; Placing in basket, fresh and new, The nicest things that could be seen, "Within dividing glassy screen. It kept e'en luscious smell away From passers, who might only stray, To take a look, but never taste What often went to sinful waste.

A touch withdraws, the child's fixed gaze ; A few sweet words fill with amaze The little heart that scarcely knew The thoughts that, quickly passing through, Have formed the subject of my verse, And opened wide the lady's purse.

The bright, full eyes gaze in the face That looks so full of gentle grace: " The basket is for you, my child!" -- And all that in it I see piled ? " " Yes, all for you, poor little one ; Slip it your little arm upon." The wondering eyes were full of life: "Oh, tell me! are you God's 'own' wife?"

lady, I never saw thy face; Lifted, no doubt, to dwelling-place

64

"ARE YOU GOD'3 WIFEt"

Of the Blest Holy One above,-- The Giver of blest Christian lore; But surely thou dost daily seek Homes the resort of poor and meek. Forever must those words resound, As you are daily going round, And you must see the wondrous light, And hear the words, " Are you God's wife ? "
Oct. 12,1865.

Co a &ottriet'$
JAITHFUL creature, draw thee near me, Do not pass me idly by;
I would stroke thy shining beauty, -- I would see thee eye to eye! I would lay my hand upon thee, As I 've seen another hand, Lifted proud, or drooping o'er thee, For caressing or command!
Faithful creature, draw thee near me, Let me touch thy shaggy cheek;
How I wish, my poor dumb pointer, -- How I wish that thou couldst speak!
There is soul and there is sorrow Beaming in that radiant eye.
Thou hast loved, and thou hast suffered, -- Draw thee near me, -- so have L
Thou hast missed the hand that fed thee, And the eye that ever shone, 5

66

TO A SOLDIER'S DOG.

With a brave and manly beauty, Kindly, gently on thine own!
Thou hast missed the merry whistle, And the hunter's blithesome call,
And the gay, glad, sportive footstep, Dearer, dearer than them all!

Draw thee near me ; I am weary, -- Empty places day by day : --
Look into my face, poor pointer; "What is it that thou wouldst say ?
Thou must know the hand that fed thee Grasps the sabre and the sword;
And the eye that shone upon thee Beams to battle's martial word !

Thou must know, thy master's footsteps High in danger's bulwarks stand,
And the voice, the voice that called thee, Gives the soldier's loud command!
Thou must know, -- for something holy, Sad and beautiful I see,
In the look of love and pity Thou art lifting up to me!

Just as if by wondrous instinct, Thou would'st read this heart of mine,

TO A SOLDIER'S DOG.

67

All the pathos in thy nature Kindling in that glance of thine!

Draw thee near me, -- many sorrows In this vale of tears I 've known ;
But to-night, beneath the moonlight, If I weep, 't is not alone.
There is soul and there is sorrow Beaming in that radiant eye;
Thou hast loved, and thou hast suffered, -- Draw thee near me, -- So have I!

flap of tip unfcatn.
LIE on the mountain as fair and as mild
As a rose on the breast of an innocent child, And I hie me, way down to the valley below, As noiseless and fleet as a spirit could go! I pierce through the window all darkened by pain, To bring back the dreamings of gladness again; And I lay me down softly the cradle beside, Like a promise of joy to the pathway untried I I 'm in the lone attic, where never a song Of music or pleasure would seem to belong; Yet I throw o'er its darkness a glimmer of light So pensive in beauty, we cling to the sight. My being is varied: I 'm up with the day, But long before evening I 'm passing away; Yet, changeful and transient, I 'm bright to the last, As a hope in the heart, or a dream in the past!

THE LAY OF THE SUNBEAM.

69

I am lovely and loved, for I come from the sky, Yet dearer to earth than to heaven am I; For I cast the sweet mantle of peace o'er the
mind, And leave not a token of sorrow behind!

"With my silvery pencil I stroke the blue sea, And gem the bright waves as they float over me; On the white beach I make me a pillow to sleep, But the gate of the morn 'tis my province to
keep; With the gentlest of blushes I garnish its bars, And dimmed is the light of the glorious stars; Then away down the slope of the hill to the
plain, I am off on my mission of beauty again ! I stay not a moment, for sweet is my play "With the dew on the grass at the opening of day; And the shadow I leave in my beautiful path, Like the fading of autumn, its radiance hath !

I am sent to the heart-stricken mourner below, Yet a stranger, am I to the anguish of woe ; No grief have I tasted, no loss have I known, For I live in the sunshine, -- the sunshine alone; ^et the track of my footstep falls soft 'mid the
gloom,

70

THE LAY OF THE SUNBEAM.

As a smile to a tear, so am I to the tomb; And aloft through the shade of the cypress I
plant My beautiful banner all shining aslant!

I fear not the dark-winged angel of Death, Yet I fly from the storm with its pitiless breath; E'en the glow of the lightning grows faint on the
mind, As I bear my light form on the wings of the
\vind, And speed like a spirit whose mission is done, To the " Crown of my Glory," the beautiful Sun!

Co a frictib, on Ijet
I 'VE read, that in a distant land there is a cherished stone ;
It tells if weal or woe befalls the loved and absent one; And as it dims or brightens, the owner's heart will be With fear and hope alternate striving for mastery.

The thought of thee, my friend, with it most

strangely blends;

'

Fondly loved, and guarded by parents and by

friends;

Like it, they would protect thee from all life's

hurtful things,

^

And blessing, at the thought of thee, in many a

bosom springs.

Eat soon thou wilt be leaving the home of child hood dear,
Another's heart will claim thee, another's home thou 'It cheer;

72 TO A FRIEND, ON HER MARRIAGE.
Then blessings on tb.ee, dear one, -- I fain from Heaven would crave,
And a Father's hand to guide thee, as life's rude storms thou It brave.
Thou hast secured, ray gentle girl, that Heavenly Father's love,
And I know that thy young heart has found a place in world above ;
Then let not life's endearing charms allure thee from that troth,
Which solemnly, in angela' view, thou 'st plighted in thy youth.
In looking through Time's telescope, I can afar perceive
That many joys and sorrows a chain full strong will weave;
And did I not believe thy heart is fixed on joys above,
I 'd fear that they might lure thee from thy first, thy plighted love.
But now I would not sadden a single hour of joy, Or at this happy season, Love, impart Fear's dark
alloy.

TO A. FRIEND 0.V HER MARRIAGE. 73
That yon may both be happy, my earnest prayer shall rise,
And after life's long journey 's o'er, be welcomed to the skies.

A HOME-OFFEKIXO OF LOVE TO THE FIRST-BOBS.
|E have woven a wreath for thee, Brother, A chaplet of warm, true love,
'Circled with the bcnison of thy Mother, And a blessing from Heaven above!
'T is not composed of bay, Brother, The evergreen of Fame ;
Nor of the glistening laurel, Brother, They bind on Glory's name !
But't is inwoven with flowers, Brother, -- The sweet, the bright, the fair;
And mingled in its round, Brother, The gems of love appear.
There are lilies of fairy tint, Brother, Breathing a perfume rare;
And violets of deepest blue, Brother, Shed their rich fragrance there.

OUR BROTHER.

75

The woodbine and the jessamine, Brother, Myrtle and holly too,
Combine to form this love-wreath, Brother, So bright-hued in its glow.

Thou hast been the blessing of our home, Brother,
With thy warm and loving heart,-- "With thy winsome, winning ways, Brother,
Thy cheerily acted part.

Thou hast gladdened the heart of thy mother, Thou hast brightened thy father's brow,
In many a moment of care, Brother, In many an hour of woe!

In the home of thy love and cheer, Brother, Thy cherished, worshipped home,
Thou hast been the dispenser of joy, Brother, The banisher of gloom.

"We pray that thy brow may ever, Brother, Be crowned with a chaplet of love;
On earth, truth, beauty, and peace be thine, And meet thee in heaven above!
April 5rt, 1858.

f)e
LIVE in the Present. The Past as a dream
Is sweet to remember, but yet The Present, with joys that are real and serene,
Is sweeter, without a regret.
The Past was my song in the days of my youth, When fancy is ever so rife,
That the least little care that o'ercloudeth the sun Seems to darken the whole of the life.
The Past had its friendships, but where are they now,--
The hearts that so earnestly loved ? Like a bud that is nipped, a vision that's gone,
Like a tale that is told, they have proved.
Yet the Past I recur to with pleasure and pride ; I 'm grateful e'en where she deceived ;
She enlivened my life in the days that are gone, And her sorrows are more than retrieved.

THE PRESENT.

77

For the Present hath joys which she promised me not,
Whose halo around me is cast, Too brightly to yield to a shade of regret
In view of the treacherous Past,

not*
)GE not ! for you may say a word, That you scarce deem one soul has
heard ; Judge not ! a loving heart may bleed, Because your words, like lightning speed, May as electric shock be brought, To agonize by wounded thought Some heart, all innocent and pure, Leaving it innocent no more.
For that poor heart may curse the tongue That sent its poisoned dart upon A victim that ne'er dreamed of wrong, Or could to such a class belong, -- Whose vilest judgment makes appear The injured one foul wrong to share. Then judge no one by heart, by tongue } Truth is notjudgmetit ; and upon A fact becoming known as true, Do to that neighbor e'en what you

JUDGE NOT.

79

Would wish in your own case might be Done to your loved, or else to tkee.

If we the golden rule would keep, How rich a harvest we would reap Of grateful words, of smiles, of love, And what is precious far above All pleasures which our senses know, -- And which we never could forego, If once we tasted the rich pleasure Of gaining from our Lord the treasure Of a pure heart, all free from guile, Gladdened by its Creator's smile.

Who, who can gently look above, And say, O God, my life is love ? Who can unblushingly behold All men in thought stand near enrolled, And feel no bitter, taunting word Has ever from the lips been heard; No gentle spirit wounds has felt, No tears from burning lids did melt, Because harsh, thoughtless words have sped To homes where innocence has fled, To hide the burning cheek from scorn, And wish for night, and then for morn ?

80

JUDGE NOT.

T<et us remember that to judge Is 'gainst the will of Heaven!
That to be judged we must expect, Unless we firm have striven
Against the sin so prone to all, -- To think that those who seem to fall, Must for peculiar sin be tried, That thus they may be sanctified.
Oct. 13th, 1865.

i# tlife.
HUE stood beside me in the hour When plighted vows were made,
And seemed like a transplanted flower From Eden's sunny glade ; So bright she was ! her brow without The shadow of a shade.
Love was the watchword of her'sonl ; And one was by her side,
Who hoped ere long to claim her as His cherished, chosen bride.
No cloud above their happiness ; But oh ! he could not see
The darkness that was gathering, Alas ! so fearfully.
These loving hearts so pure, so true, Were destined to be riven ;
The summons was upon its way, The charge already given,

82

BVCff IS LIFE.

'Which was to bear his soul from earth, I fondly trust, to heaveii.

And thus he left her; one short year Of wedded bliss was theirs;
It opened bright with smiles of hope, . It closed with bitter tears. But oh, amidst this night of gloom,
One ray of joy appears: How precious was that baby smile,
How sweet his cooing tone! And soon his little voice would learn
To call the absent one; But no, another message came, --
The mother was alone.

Alone ? Oh, no! her trust is there, Where both her loved ones dwell;
She hears them in the Better Land The angel chorus swell;
And while she weeps, she ever says, God "doeth all things welL"

EATH has often been amongst us, Bringing sadness to the heart;
Often have our souls in anguish Bowed beneath his cruel dart.
But oh, never, never, never Such a visit as the last!
Never hath his presence o'er us Such a midnight sorrow cast
Now his summons has deprived us Of our pastor and our friend, --
Brought the sweetest earthly union To a sudden, dreadful end.
Oh! what shall we do without thee ? "Who can ever fill thy place ?
Who, in strength of mind and learning, Who, in spiritual grace ?

84

OUR PASTOR.

Who, in tenderness of manner? Who, in sympathy of soul ?
We may chance to find a portion, But we never can the whole.

Who in love shall stand beside us, To bestow the bread of life?
Who shall comfort and console us In its sorrow and its strife ?

God hath done it, and in wisdom He may choose another head ;
But our hearts can never love him As they loved the precious dead.

<$uatiuan
Lines suggested by hearing of the protection granted to a house and family, when, on the soldiery entering the house to plunder, the young mother pointed to the beau tiful corpse of her child, and exclaimed, " Let this be our protection!"
JOME desolate! the bright, bright eyes Are dosed, to open in the skies. The cherub lips are firmly pressed,
Each little hand is on the breast; The little feet, that wandered o'er Fields, woods, and home, must never more Be pressed on early falling dew, Nor paths bright scattered, through and through, With flowers and petals of gayest hue.
There lies the angel of the dwelling; Hidden are hearts with 'anguish swelling; Tears like the purest crystal dew Fall on the marble form anew ;

86

THE GVASDLAN ANGEL.

They take oppression from the breast, They teach the weary brain to rest.

Silence is broken ; rude, strong hand Throws wide the door to soldier band; Fierce eyes flash on the tear-stained faces, Then feet seem rooted to their places; For firm, firm voice commands their ear, And steady eyes evince no fear. A mother's voice will touch the heart, And make those cruel foes depart.

Stop! she exclaims, in voice decisive, And looks returned are not derisive. Stop!--and the voice breathes forth affec
tion, --
Look there! Let that le our protection I

Those men, who came to born and sack, Looked pityingly, and then turned back. " Protect this house," was the command. " Let guards be stationed, that no band May enter, to disturb by tread This home made sacred by the dead!'

And though the sounds of war were near, Silence was broken there by prayer.

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.

87

And ever in those loving hearts, As, year by year Old Time departs, Will that pure, lovely child be known As Guardian Angel of its Home.

OcL 1865.

ON THE DEATH OF THE WETTER OF THE " TILLAGE CHUKCH,"
Who died at bis home in Savannah, just after his return from Harvard University, aged twenty years.
EARTH, how many bright ones Are in thy bosom laid 1 How many kindred spirits Now seek their home in thy dark caverns! Death! thou dost find thy victims Amongst earth's rarest and most gifted children, And now thou hast taken One, Who blossomed forth so fair, so beautiful, So full of taste and talent, gentleness and love, That every heart sinks at the sudden, awful change, And every eye grows dim with sickening tears!
But who can tell a father's woe, a father's an guish,
In this dreary, dark, and dreaded hour ? Who can feel the crush of all the hopes of gath
ering years,

LINES.

89

Who can tell the sickening woe that reigns, Where lived, in all the pride of youth, And all the promise of his early years, The gifted son ? O most tried parent! all other grief sinks before
thine.
So mightily it presses on thy heart, That, should the spring of life itself give way,
We would not wonder.

But oh! remember, in this trying hour, That He icho gave, has taken away! That He has claimed His own, Which, but for a little time, He lent to thee!
Bless thou His name ! And while thy heart, in deepest woe, Feels the full agony of this His act, Bend it, though it should break, To His most mighty will: Then will the light burst forth; Then will the darkness disappear; And He who while on earth did raise the dead, Shall, in the resurrection,
Eaise thy son!

25cft>
Written on " seeing" a mother fall asleep, after talking over anxieties about her sons, who, together with their father, were in the Confederate service. Only two were together.
|LEEP on, dear troubled one! Sleep on! in sweet unconsciousness; Dream dreams, that bring your little
ones back to your side. See their bright eyes, glancing and dancing Midst bright beds of curls. Look at their coral lips ; smile as you hear them
speak of deeds of daring, "Which they '11 accomplish when they shall be men. Laugh to behold them, with stern soldier air, Making of broom a gun, of wood a spear. See how they brandish, with an innate grace,
their little swords, As they through exercises go. See their eyes flash, hear tones of triumph. Now they flush, for they have buried glittering
blade in heart of foe, Or stricken from his hated trunk his head by
well-aimed blow.

BEFORE THE WAR.

91

Ah! little did you think that every dash Made by your darling boys was fitting them for
war, --
Little dream, that, when yon sent them shoeless on sweet ------'a sands,
It was to teach them to endure toils in store,-- Obedience to commands.

Sleep on! Heaven guard your treasures ; Heaven grant that sweet, sweet pleasures Are laid in keeping, for your absent ones. Sleep on! Dry off, ye tears scarce shed for hus
bands, sons. Sleep on! sleep on! sleep on!

jjAKE up! wake up! we must not sleep! We must scarce take the time to weep. We must look ills of life in face,
And keep our energies apace. For we must a new life begin, And try to live, to crush out sin.
Wake, mother! wake ! and smile a'new! All the loved band are safely through; Life, limbs, and brain, all, all are saved, And eyes may open without grave And silent darkness staring through, On objects that the earth still strew, Never to be beheld again, With wonder, love, or even pain.
Wake, mother! to the toils of life; Wake to endure the daily strife Which poverty will bring to those

AFTER TBE WAS.

93

Whose paling cheek with crimson glows, As they are learning lesson sad, That even comforts must be had By struggling daily, nightly too, To get the plainest fare anew.

Wake, mother, wake! your faith is firm,-- You have not now blest faith to learn; You can with patience straggle on, And bid your heart in God be strong. For sons are called, as manhood's cares Cluster around with hopes and fears, To dedicate themselves anew To Father, who, all through and through, Has gently placed restraining hand Upon that mother's little band, Taking the wounded in Bis care, Giving the sick a goodly share Of kind attention and of love, From all below, and from above.

Mother, awake ! you 're blessed of God; The darkest path ere this is trod. What can we dread when He is ours ? Ne'er Death, or Hell, or earthly powers. Tired, you '11 think of rest forever ,Bested, you '11 think of time when never

14

AFTER THE WAR.

Shall anxious weariness be felt, For all in love combined shall melt, Forming a contrast passing strange, "WHch none but God can e'er arrange.
Oct. UA, 1865.

ShtcsJ
TO A YELLOW JESSAMIXB PRESSED FOR A FRTBXD
SET -vine! that lov"st in graceful folds to twine Around the stately oak or lofty pine, To fling thy garlands gay from tree to tree, In sportive forms, so wild, so sweet, so free.
Thy golden flowers in massive richness seen, Mingling with moss and various tints of green, Shedding-sweet fragrance on each vernal gale Which gently wafts it through the woody vale.
Though torn from parent stem, and rudely pressed,
Thy lifeless form will still in beauty rest; And bring to sleeping memory the clime Where jessamines grow wild, and warm suns
shine.

ADDRESSED BY AN OFFICER TO THREE LADIES, ON EE-
CEivrsro FBOM THEM A PRESENT OF A PAJB OP
CUFFS.
JH, sweet memento, but perplexing sight! Behold the sorrows of a luckless wight! Cuffed by fierce foes, and cuffed by
smiling friends, His sorrows deepen, and his gloom extends. The prison chill but late bedamped his brow, And friendly wishes rest upon it now; Behold a quandary in which to stand, -- A suffering soldier, cuffed on either hand.

But like the Christian, who, with patience meek, Presents the smiter with alternate cheek, So will the soldier, humble still, though rough, His " arms present" for every graceful cuff, -- Will wield those arms for Southern homes and
rights, Receive the cuffs, and bless the hand that smites.
AUGUSTA, Go., 1862.

ON THE 8ENSITIVK PLAST.
| HEBE is an unobtrusive flower, Filling with fragrance tree and bower; Its modest, blushing color lies
In pale, pale pink, and deepest dyes Of the same shade, till o'er is spread Its brightest tint of rosy red.
Methmks no passing one could tread Regardless by, when perfume shed Like luscious, tempting fruit is brought By gentle breeze, which tree has sought; A. look would wander overhead, And search for source whence fragrance fled.
But you must quietly regard That delicate tree. Do not retard By hasty touch the flowing sap ; For unaware you thus, mayhap, May make the exquisite leaves of green Wither, 'neath touch almost unseen.
7

98

LUTES.

So with the sensitive flowers of life; They wither 'neath e'en words of strife; They shrink as if the heart is dead ; Paleness o'er delicate tints is spread, Often by unreflecting word, Or murmur that is scarcely heard.

Look gently, and let no rude touch Descend upon e'en natures such. Defend them from the careless word, Defend them from keen sarcasm heard, Defend them from the ills of life, Defend them from harsh words of strife.

For many a trembling nature shrinks Into itself, and, trembling, thinks That it is useless to pretend To struggle, or try to defend A heart that shrinks, and shrinks again, . "When felt is own and others' pain.
Oct. lath, 1865.

Co tip <>!&
AEEWELL, Old Tear! We look with sadness back,
And see thy dark and dreary blood stained track. We seem to think of thee when thofl art o'er, As shipwrecked ones regard the distant shore. We hope, and yet we hope as blind ones may Hope for the beams of bright and gladdening day. We trust, for we ere this dark paths have trod, Which led us, strangely, to our Father, God. We bless, for blessed is that Father's hand, Guiding us from the cheats, -- the smooth quick sand. We ask forgiveness, for full well we know We 've well deserved a fiercer, heavier blow.
Farewell, Old Year! Hide deep within your breast
All of our anguish and our dread unrest;

100

TO THE OLD YEAR.

Let us remember our blest noble brave, And drop with laurels tears upon each grave. Let us remember that the days draw nigh, When we shall speak of them with smile, not
sigh. Forever shall the sad, the blighted past Be sacred to us, -- as the shadows cast Their pall upon the things gone quickly by, Covering each tear-drop, and each heart's deep
sigh.

Farewell, Old Tear! and welcome to the New! Sadly we 've borne the past, but it is through. Brighter the day, when blackest clouds have
sped, Like winged messengers, bearing off their dead, -- Leaving the sky from gloomy shadows freed, Hasting to earth with gladness and with speed! Frowning upon us first with clouded face, Then kissing flowers and greens, in whose em
brace We see our Father's tender, pitying love In glimpses of the joys in store above.

Welcome, New Tear! Bring peace on softest wing;
Oh, cry not Peace, and leave the latent sting!

TO TRE OLD TEAS.

101

Come to us with a sweet, a smiling face: Smiles, if sincere, true heart can ne'er disgrace. Come! gently woo us from depression's weights; Come! take oppression from our homes, -- our
States; Then, though we sadly bid thee welcome now, We '11 in the end kiss warmly thy fair brow.
SAVAXSAH, Dec. llth, 1865.