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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stray Pebbles from the Shores of Thought, by Elizabeth Porter Gould This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Stray Pebbles from the Shores of Thought Author: Elizabeth Porter Gould Release Date: February 21, 2014 [EBook #44973] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAY PEBBLES ***

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STRAY PEBBLES
FROM THE

SHORES OF THOUGHT
BY

ELIZABETH PORTER GOULD
BOSTON
PRESS OF T. O. METCALF & CO. 1892 COPYRIGHT 1892 BY

ELIZABETH PORTER GOULD

POEMS OF NATURE: PAGE To Walt Whitman To Summer Hours A True Vacation A Question To a BuĴerfly In a Hammock O rare.ʺ Wenham Blossom-time The Primrose Joy. all Joy Among the Pines Conscious or Unconscious 11 12 13 14 16 18 20 22 26 28 29 31 33 35 37 39 POEMS OF LOVE: Loveʹs How and Why Loveʹs Guerdon A Birthday Greeting Three Kisses If I were only sure Absence A Love Song In Her Garden Loveʹs Wish Is there anything purer Longing Young Loveʹs Message A Diaryʹs Secret A Monologue A Priceless GiĞ The Oceanʹs Moan Loveʹs Flower Renunciation 43 44 45 48 50 52 53 55 56 58 60 61 63 65 66 67 70 71 . sweet summer day An Old Manʹs Reverie On Jefferson Hill On Sugar Hill At ʺFairfieldʹs.CONTENTS.

Browningʹs Death Robert Browning To Neptune. F. T. Partington Lines for the Seventieth Birthday Anniversary of Walt Whitman 85 87 88 90 92 94 96 98 100 103 105 107 109 111 113 115 118 119 121 123 126 128 129 131 133 136 144 145 147 148 151 153 156 . 1. S. C. T. Vermont Childhoodʹs Days An Answer Where. D. A Broken Heart My Release The god of music To Wilhelm Gericke For E. H. To the Pansies growing on the grave of A. G. What. Whence Heroes A Magdalenʹs Easter Cry For the Anniversary of Mrs. To Mrs.Love Discrowned A Widowʹs Heart Cry Together Shadowed Circles 74 76 78 80 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS : A Song of Success The Under World She Knows At PiĴsford. H. An Anniversary Poem A Comfort An Anniversary To Miss Elizabeth P. Peabody At Lifeʹs SeĴing Grandma Waiting Does it Pay Auxilium ab Alto Limitations The Muse of History An Impromptu to G.—Upon the death of her son To C. in behalf of S. F.—AĞer the birth of her son 2.

SONNETS : The Known God To Phillips Brooks At the ʺPorter Manseʺ Our Lady of the Manse To B. P. Shillaber To Our Mary A Birthday Remembrance Josef Hofmann AĞer the Denial Gethsemane On Lake Memphremagog Luke 23: 24 To Members of my Home Club 161 163 165 167 169 171 173 175 177 179 181 183 185 FOR MY LITTLE NEPHEWS AND NIECES : Mammaʹs Lullaby Warrenʹs Song Baby Mildred Rosamond and Mildred ʹChilla Childish Fancies What liĴle Bertram did ʺDear liĴle Macʺ Willard and Florence on Mt. WachuseĴ A liĴle Brazilian The liĴle doubter Our KiĴyʹs Trick A Message 189 190 192 194 196 197 199 202 207 210 213 217 220 .

.POEMS OF NATURE.

and sin. ʺI loafe and invite my soul.ʺ And what do I see? The temple of God in the perfected man Revealing the wisdom and end of earthʹs plan. ʺI loafe and invite my soul.ʺ And what do I hear? Original harmonies piercing the din Of measureless tragedy. sorrow. ʺI loafe and invite my soul.TO WALT WHITMAN. 1891. August.ʺ And what do I feel? An influx of life from the great central power That generates beauty from seedling to flower. .

While Day her heart reveals. that my heart weeps! . While Night in beauty sleeps. Hold back eʹen soĞest showers. Breathe gently.TO SUMMER HOURS. Trip lightly. King Time neʹer steals! NIGHT. tireless hours. DAY. Such wealth from secret bowers King Time himself neʹer steals. O joy. joyous hours. Ah me.— Enough that mortal weeps.

(Oh what ease. Wenham. IN A HAMMOCK. O Time.ʺ Under the trees. Iʹm satisfied! Now all life Is glorified! Porter Manse. Dancing. . singing. naught secreting.) Nature full of joyous greeting. Mass. Ever glorious thoughts repeating— Pause.A TRUE VACATION. ʺCradled thus and wind caressed.

ʺI must God impart. O breeze. And cloudlets coqueĴe in the fresh summer air Rejoicing in everything being so fair— Is life a farce? How can it be. While gaily decked birds Pour forth their gladness in songs beyond words. When Nature at heart Is but the great spirit of love and of art Eternally saying.ʺ Is life a farce? Tell me. ʺI must God impart. And failure in sight of true victoryʹs song. child. child. Struggling to act out humanityʹs whole ʹMidst Error and Wrong. And love for the many lost in love for the few— Is life a farce? How can it be.ʺ . O soul. Is life a farce? Tell me. Bearing the perfume of flowers and trees. When humanityʹs heart Is but the great spirit of love and of art Eternally crying. With Wisdom and Virtue at times lost to view.A QUESTION.

So glad to share The freedom of new living. Shall I too know AĞer earthʹs throe Full freedom of my being? Shall I. now prancing Through the air. O buĴerfly. Why may not I In worlds on high Be changed beyond earthʹs dreaming? . Is time too short With pleasure fraught For you to heed my seeking? Ah. dancing.TO A BUTTERFLY. well. Through law as true. as you. Know life of fuller meaning? O happy creature. youʹve leĞ me thinking: If here on earth A second birth Can so transform a being. Come. tell me my heartʹs seeking.

Mass. The greenest lawn beneath me. The soĞ wind to caress me. The life which does my strength renew For purer visions of the true? Alas! no one can tell me. hush! let Nature lead me. The rustling leaves above me. Loved flowers and birds to greet me. Wenham.IN A HAMMOCK. happy hour! Whence comes all this to bless me. Let even wisest questions cease While I breathe in such life and peace This happy.— Oh happy. . A network glimpse of bluest sky To meet the upturned seeing eye. A well-kept house of ancient days To tell of human natureʹs ways. But. happy hour. The breezes sighing round me. Porter Manse.

ʺThe day is placid in its going. . sweet summer day. The tinted clouds were free from showers. whispering windʹs caress Was bliss to weary brain. The precious incense of rare flowers Made sweet the atmosphere. Couldʹst thou not longer stay? The soothing. O rare. Like a river in its flowing— Can there be a soĞer sound?ʺ —Wordsworth. SWEET SUMMER DAY. Couldʹst thou not longer stay? Porter Manse. The songs of birds had power to bless As in fair childhoodʹs reign. sweet summer day. The shimmering haze of mid-day hour Was balm to restlessness. While thought of silent hidden power Was strength for helplessness— O rare.O RARE. To a lingering motion bound. The sky was wondrous clear.

with last fleeting breath. On that blest summer day in the years long ago. When life was all sunshine and youth all aglow. * * * * * * Alas for the breezes. alas for my heart. have blown on since then. The breezes. But blow through the valleys where flowers await To give of their essence ere yielding to fate. I send none. thus ladened. The sweets of the valleys. The message my darling. fresh breezes. With messages laden again and again. . Theyʹd have met a fair soul from the earth just set free In search of their help for its message to me. cradled in hammock. oʹertaken by death. Alas for my message. obedient still to my wish. Blow breezes. For nothing is lost in pure loveʹs boundless space. on Loveʹs swiĞest wing. As. Theyʹll find it some day in a light zephyr chase. Nor in the fair heavens. so full of loveʹs art! If only the breezes had followed their will. But fail not. on they flew To the home of my darling they now so well knew. Pause not on the highways where gathers earthʹs dust. on Loveʹs swiĞest wing To bear her the message my heart dares to sing. As for me. And bear her the message my heart dares to sing. the breath of the hills Were gathered—the best that our loved earth distills— As. The breezes. sped on in their flight. I wait only their will To bring me that message my lone heart to fill. though cloudlets say must. fresh breezes. O breezes.AN OLD MANʹS REVERIE. And loitered among the pure cloudlets so still. In vain tried to uĴer. I sang in delight. Or blow on the hill tops where atmospheres lie Imbued with the health which no money can buy.

.

And Morning waits to show her dawn-flushed face. The lingering clouds melt into twilight haze. Till moon-kissed Night holds all in her embrace. . Calm evening comes to roam With gentle pace Through star-lit space.) The sovereign mountains bask in sunset rays. The birds their warbling cease. While wrapped in summer-scented atmosphere. The caĴle wander home. (BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL RANGE. The villagersʹ hour of welcome sleep is near. The valleys rest in peace.ON JEFFERSON HILL.

Hotel Look-Off. and charms The evening hour bespeaks. . While clouds keep guard below. The lovely valleys nestling in the arms Of glorious mountain peaks. September. The purple tint of sunset hour. F. 1891.ON SUGAR HILL. with foliage autumn-won. Grand. The monarch peak kissed by the rising sun. TO F. Sweet friendship cast her hues of golden light. B. The happy days when on fair ʺLook-Offʹsʺ height. In memoryʹs hall. restful views.— Will eʹer recall. And Northern lights rare glow.

The buĴerflies come near. Dost find such fields as ʺFairfields.ʺ The pigsʹ eyes even shine. Her vigorous. Not even lively Sancho Can fill for me her place. Dainty locust-blossoms. high-bred face. WENHAM. Welcome me with gladness To dearly-loved ʺFairfields.ʺ The cows nod ʺI have missed you.AT FAIRFIELDSA.ʺ More love than we could show? A ʺFairfieldsʺ is but another name for ʺPorter Manse. All that glad June yields.ʺ But whereʹs my happy collie dog. Her handsome. Gone where the good dogs go. happy Rosa. playful action In many a fair field chase. Clover red and white. But whereʹs my happy collie dog. 1890. Ferns and crown-topped grasses Waving with delight. BuĴercups and daisies. And from the red-house hearth-stone Comes pet cat Valentine. O Rosa. The hens cease not their cackling.ʺ . My Rosa? I miss her joyful greeting. June. The horses neigh ʺIʹm here. My Rosa? The orioles sing greeting.

.

Free from trouble. caring naught Only to reflect Godʹs thought. and care. Free from worldly noise and sale. Would I were a violet! Blessed day of needed wealth. Feeling every velvet breeze. Blossoms floating through the air. Free from knowledge that bereaves. . Then like blossoms I shall be. WaĞing only purity. Or like robins.ʺ Porter Manse. Full of Natureʹs perfect health. Would I were a blossom! Robins singing in the trees. toil. Or like violets. Bearing perfumes rich and rare. Fill me with thy power.BLOSSOM-TIME. Telling each its happy tale. Would I were a robin! Violets peaceful in the vale. singing free ʹMidst the deepening mystery.

And of poetʹs sweet lay? Who does. And with a sweet kiss opens wide all our eyes. ʺA dear lovely fairy glides down from his throne In the sunʹs golden ray. sweet primrose. Who tells you. pray? The primrose. Do tell us the name of this fairy. So fresh and so gay. Does he linger your way?ʺ . primrose.THE PRIMROSE. secure on his emerald throne. Who gives of his beauty. I pray. And makes you the pet of the twilightʹs caress.ʹ And lo! when heʹs gone we are filled with surprise At our wondrous array. without pay. and then hies away Without thanks. ʹtis time to wake up AĞer dreaming all day? Who changes so quickly your sombre green dress To the yellow one gay. ʹNow is your day. Looked up quickly to say. Saying.

ALL JOY. On a summer day. Running here and there. Wondering why Iʹm here. Farmerʹs work to share. perfect green all round. Skipping. proud of freedomʹs hour. Or a biĴer thought to stay all that sense might yield— What a joy to have alway! Sky as blue as blue can be. Lying on the new-mown hay. Birdlings on the wing Ere they pause to sing On the top of bush or tree. or on sweet hay-mound— Restful joy in everything! BuĴerflies just come to light. full of daring play— Childrenʹs joy! Joy everywhere! .JOY. With no care to weigh. Cows in pastures near. shouting loud and clear. in a sightly field. Chipmunks now and then in sight. bees in clover-flower— Added joy when these appear! Happy children far and near climbing loads of hay.

The birds pause in their flight to listen. North Conway. too. . Far up in air the pines are murmuring Love songs sweet and low. The hush of summer noon enwraps them Perfumed from below By the flowers that show They. All nature finds a joy in loving— Oh. Captured by the sound Of such pleasure found In a playful daily round. murmuring love songs know. Wondering all the while How the trees can smile Rooted so to earthly guile. Worthy of the glad sunʹs glow.AMONG THE PINES. that I could hear Love songs once so dear Death has hushed forever here! Intervale Woods. With a rhythmic flow. The airy clouds are oʹer them bending.

the thunderʹs roar. But is it true she does not share A knowledge in Godʹs plan? Must not she His own secret bear To so touch soul of man? Those who deny this see not clear Into the heart of things. Are moods that Nature loves to show To man who boasts his birth From conscious force she could not know Because denied soul-worth. The wildest hurricane. the delugeʹs pour. The oceanʹs strength.CONSCIOUS OR UNCONSCIOUS? The earthquakeʹs shock. For how could otherwise God here Reveal His wanderings? . The lightningʹs vivid chain.

POEMS OF LOVE. .

How do I love thee? Oh. who dares? . who knows? Why do I love thee? Ah. who knows How the blush of the rose Can its secret disclose? Oh. who cares Sound a passion he shares With the angels? Who dares.LOVEʹS HOW AND WHY. Yes.

Thine eyes are stars to hold me To loveʹs pure rapturous height. Thy thoughts are pearls to lead me To truth beyond earthʹs sight. Thy love is life to keep me Forever in Godʹs light.LOVEʹS GUERDON. .

.A BIRTHDAY GREETING.

would I had sweet musicʹs aid To vitalize the prayers Iʹve made For thy new year. my dear— That thou canʹst find the blessed art By which to make eʹen depths of heart In form appear. Or fail to cheer. dear? Oh.Thy birthday. . Thy birthday. would I had the painterʹs skill Prophetic visions to fulfill For thy new year. Yet. guided by the inner light. For. would I had the poetʹs art By which I could my wish impart For thy new year. That only will expression find In purest depths of thine own mind This coming year. as thou knowʹst. it may be a heavenʹs birthday Will have to dawn for us to say Our best things. But in this sight thou mayʹst so feel Eternal beauty oʹer thee steal— Godʹs giĞ. Thy birthday. dear? Oh. But eʹen a painterʹs rarest brush Would but my holy visions crush. As. But eʹen a poetʹs pen of gold Would fail my wish to thee unfold In earthly sphere. its depths to tell Heavenʹs atmosphere. Truthʹs deepest well Must eʹer reflect. Thereʹll come to thee the new-born sight Of ravished seer. dear? Oh. dear. Alas! not even musicʹs best Could put in form my soulʹs behest For thee. my dear.

.

When soul met soul in rapture sweet— Oh. pure loveʹs burning kiss! The third was laid away with him. New thoughts will larger truth unfold. The kiss still burns upon my brow. Another burns yet deeper still. A kiss for heavenʹs day. The kiss of wedded bliss. Beyond these mysteries sad and strange. . When in the flush of loveʹs first hour He said he loved me so. (O heart abide Godʹs way)— When in the life beyond earthʹs change. That kiss of long ago.THREE KISSES. And love have endless sway. New life will spring from out the old.

If I were only sure He loves me still. . could neʹer destroy (Death only is in earthʹs alloy) Such love so pure As that which blessed our union here. As in the realms of beauteous space (Alas! so far from my embrace) He bides Godʹs will. If I were only sure He waits for me To join him in the heavenly realm (Oh. As day by day I learn to wait In silent agony. I could the beĴer bear my fate. O Father. all love. The love which knew no change nor fear— Such must endure. how the thought does overwhelm) When body-free. I could be more content to bear The biĴer anguish and despair Which now me fill. in my doubt One thing is sure. That Thou.IF I WERE ONLY SURE.

ABSENCE. Sugar Hill. As prayers of sainted mother. The days are happy here. Then all this beauty round me Would on my memory lie. But happier would they be Couldʹst thou be near to bless me With loveʹs sweet ministry. N. Or childhoodʹs lullaby. Hotel Look-Off. dear. .H.

Oh! ecstasy rare Comes down to share The heart that with human love trembles. Since fires of love Enkindled above In frail earthen vessels assemble. While all on the earth Is crowned with new birth And everything heaven resembles. ecstasy rare Comes down to share The heart that with human love trembles. . While all on the earth Is crowned with new birth And everything heaven resembles. But grief and despair Have latent their share In hearts that with human love tremble. Still.A LOVE SONG.

.IN HER GARDEN. And lovely nasturtiums That run on the walls. She finds me pet pansies. Sweet peas sheʹs now bringing. While all the time singing. She picks me June roses. And I? Ask the flowers To tell what befalls. Such wondrous-eyed pansies. Were ever such roses? Their fragrance would honor The heavenly halls.

all undefiled. A welcome guest For joyʹs bequest. Would I were beautiful.LOVEʹS WISH. dearest? . To make you blest In beautyʹs quest. That you might beĴer see the soul in me! That wish is best. if this were so. Is ʹt not. But. Would I were beautiful! Then you at Beautyʹs shrine might freely dine.— If I were Beautyʹs child. dear. You might forget to see The soulʹs pure hidden shrine wherein eʹer shine The things that test Loveʹs true behest.

IS THERE ANYTHING PURER? Oh. Breathed forth with true loveʹs gentle art! Is there anything purer On land or on sea. With no ray of hopeʹs blessed gain. To bring the God-Father To you or to me? . It is fraught with a keen recognition Of truest soul-need and fruition. More laden with blessing For you or for me? It is sweeter than song ever heard. More precious than loveʹs spoken word. Is there anything purer On land or on sea. the prayer of a dear virgin-heart. But as lulled by the angels at midnight Ere reaching the infinite daylight Is there anything surer. On land or on sea. More laden with comfort For you or for me? It is oĞentimes born in great pain.

and birds Make haste to echo her glad words. For all the while there oʹer me steals Like holy chimes in midnight air. ʺHeʹll soon be here. ʺHeʹll soon be here. hills. Through all this summer joy and rest. There breathes the longing heartʹs desire.ʺ And flowers and trees. Would he were here! The thrill of pain kind Nature feels.LONGING. vales. Though lying on fair Natureʹs breast.ʺ .

YOUNG LOVEʹS MESSAGE. liĴle bird. Dost thou know?— Iʹll speak low— ʺOh. Till the day When as sweet new-mown hay Thou canʹst bear it to him in the fragrance loved best. ʺThat I do love him so. What I say.ʺ Hold safe. thou canst carry it now. How I wish thou wert here! But pause. waving grass. Sing too. Oh! I do love him so. But dost know?— Tell him low. love dear. For thou art on the way to the west where he is. I am sure. Thou dost fear?— Oh. liĴle cloud. what my heart sings to-day. Though the winds do allure. Sweet and pure. in thy rhythmical flow. I do love him so.ʺ .

And all my childhoodʹs faith in God Doth mock me as a lie. 1867. But since I saw Royʹs face. 1887. When in the days of childhoodʹs faith I knew not doubt or sigh. So hungry have I grown No love can satisfy. The deepening years have proved Loveʹs conquest justified.A DIARYʹS SECRET. And knew his loveʹs sweet cheer. January 1. . And felt the anguish and despair Which come from partings here. Godʹs love was once enough My heart to satisfy. But still in these dark hours I hold one anchor fast: Perhaps this is the womanʹs way To reach Godʹs love at last. January 1. The womanʹs hungry heart at last In God is satisfied.

ʹTis Death. too late! Already Death stands oʹer me With hungry eyes that bore me— O cruel fate. Ere yet Deathʹs work begins: ʺIn other realms earthʹs losses Will change from saddening crosses To love-crowned joy. not Love. Where Death shall have no mission. But. that wins.A MONOLOGUE. stay! This message bear.ʺ . Has Love come? Ah. That aĞer all lifeʹs years Of sacrifice and tears. But Love his sweet fruition Without alloy.

lo! through seeming sacrifice A miracle was wrought. he rose To meet the coming hour. clothed in purity. For. well he knew He lacked sweet virtueʹs praise. What could he give? Ah. . When. A miracle of love and grace. Revealing womanʹs power. The virgin heart was given to him Without a doubting thought. ʹTwas much he asked—a virgin heart Unknown to worldly ways.A PRICELESS GIFT.

THE OCEANʹS MOAN. .

ʺI love her. Bearing a burden. Distinct and clear. Till she on my breast Findeth loveʹs perfect rest. And this rare monotone Of mystery Was now that passion-moan Of secrecy. Its heart-pain release. To the shores vast and free Of eternityʹs sea. Bearing its comfort. A bliss unaĴained. true song? . A strife and a longing. Came at length a monotone Of sweet refrain. A life sad and pained.Last night the oceanʹs moan Was to my ears The deep sad undertone Of vanished years. Bearing a passion Long known to the sea— Told in moments of silence A sad heart to free— To be borne me some day In the oceanʹs own way. is there tenderer tone For mortal ear. Its heavenly peace. To a soul waiting long For loveʹs tender. Bearing. But in that undertone Of restless pain. Its help for all sorrow.ʺ Oh. My moaning neʹerʹll cease Till she on my breast Findeth loveʹs perfect peace. Than such a monotone.

N.H. Hampton.Boarʹs Head. .

Then shall its treasures old unfurl Your yearning soul to hush. Loveʹs sweet and tender flower Of pure. This flower of wondrous hue. . young man.LOVEʹS FLOWER. nor fail to scan. And guard its sacred blush. Blooms ever fresh in power Oʹer all earthʹs wrong and strife. Such beauty ever new. Nor dare to crush. perennial life. Gaze at it long. Pluck not in haste. young girl.

I could not feel loveʹs fear. O joy. To tell him all.LOVE DISCROWNED.— All— O blessed power Of loveʹs sweet hour. ʺO biĴer hour! But—God—forgive—the—whole— Forgive— O biĴer power Of loveʹs death-hour. Then murmured low. Free from selfʹs alloy. (In Four Scenes. ʺHark.ʺ SCENE IV. I could not. I hear his step. my darling. loveʹs hour is here.ʺ SCENE III. . dear. She gave one look. All the peace and joy. When I shall tell him all. I shall tell him all: All the secret ecstasy. I knew that he was true and pure.) SCENE I. one piercing look. Shall tell him all!ʺ SCENE II. ʺWhen he comes. no. I thought to tell him all. Drew back her anguished soul. All my heartʹs sweet fantasy. hark! heʹs come. Oh.

for those who see no law But that of selfish must! . Heʹd loved since.He gazed upon her lifeless face. If not for man to woo? MORAL. one or two. Was this the form he once had loved? He did not understand. And—well. for broken hearts and lives Of those who can but trust! Alas. that was so. He held her lifeless hand. Alas. what was a woman for. Once loved? Yes.

is not love infernal When love can be undone?ʺ So sighed a gentle maiden In light of memory dear. sad and heavy-laden. she chose for His sake The life which knows no peer. is not love eternal When once the heart be won? Oh.RENUNCIATION. ʺOh. The life of abnegation Which gives the Christʹs own peace. For. She longed for knowledge clear. As. . brave. But soon the biĴer heart-ache Gave way to victoryʹs cheer. But leaves the sad temptation To ask for lifeʹs release.

be done!ʺ So breathe I when the dayʹs begun. Or when the morning is begun. till appears The welcome voice for listening ears. But. what heʹs to me. The voice which checks my wayward will And makes my longing heart to thrill With love for those who need me still.ʺ . So breathe I when the day is done. Reveal some clue for me to see What life is his. be done. O. not mine. but Thine.A WIDOWʹS HEART-CRY. ʺThy will is mine. Than. ʺThy will. I pause and listen. Then what can be More precious when the day is done.ʺ both night and day? Ah! this can never be on earth. To what? O ye who still invite To heavenʹs sure realm and faithʹs own right. Since he who gladly gave me birth To everything that was of worth Has gone from out my sense and sight. I whisper it in blinding tears. ʺNot my will. how long must I so pray? When will I learn to calmly say. Alas! ye canʹt.

like a flash of light. you ask. redeemed from all that dwarfs or blights. But how. sweetest music heard. We shall together walk the golden streets Sometime. caged like birds. dear. In perfect harmony with beauteous sights Beyond imaginationʹs highest flights Ere reached by seer. Will. To live the fuller life weʹve dreamed of here. we longed and suffered so? Ah. shall we each other know. do not fear. Some precious. For you may be among the blessed few Whoʹll sooner reach the blissful heights—your due For pure life here— But sometime. sure as God is love and truth. my dear. Weʹll meet. when free. When.TOGETHER. my dear. . So changed from what we were while here below. Transformed. Or some vibration rare of soul depths stirred By memoryʹs tear. my dear? It may not be at once or soon. reveal our souls Together. seek like the bird Its own. long-forgoĴen look or word Breathed through the soĞest. ʹtis true. Will not the soul.

O dear one? Do sorrows press? Beneath the weight of sorrow Is loveʹs caress. But why should we bemoan this? Could otherwise Truthʹs dazzling light be subject To mortal eyes? Could otherwise we enter The endless light. Why joyest thou. Indeed. Beyond the shadowed circle Of mortal sight? . O dear one? Is love thine own? Ah! ʹneath loveʹs deep rejoicing Is sorrowʹs moan. Why weepest thou.SHADOWED CIRCLES. all earthʹs great passions— Is it not so?— Are circled in the shadow Of joy or woe.

.MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

I am dancing along. known the full of each day.A SONG OF SUCCESS. With a heart full of love both to God and to man. thereʹs naught like dear youth To reveal the glad truth That ʹtis pure. Just to live is a joy. I am marching along. I am living along. I have fought the good fight. full of work and of plan To alleviate wrong. thereʹs naught like old age To declare with the sage. healthful joy just to know and to be! MIDDLE AGE. And an arm free and strong. siĴing down by the way. Oh. Life ending on earth is but heaven begun. Iʹm so happy and free. My work is all done. I know not nor care what will tame or destroy. Oh. Oh. YOUTH. And true victory won. OLD AGE. Life now satisfies me. thereʹs naught like mid-life To make sure without strife The beauty of progress through action and song. .

The Christ of sacred story Renews each day his birth. The god of perfect quiet Holds ever peaceful reign. The still small voice of conscience Is heard in accents mild. . Under the restless surface Of passions strong and wild. Under the restless surface Of oceanʹs vast domain. Under the restless surface Of all manʹs life on earth.THE UNDER-WORLD.

SHE KNOWS. Her presence here has filled the place with memory of a soul Made beautiful through pain Eternity to gain. AlcoĴ spent the last summer of her life. having crossed the boundary lines of honest doubt and fear.) Last summer she believed that in and through these beauteous scenes Godʹs loving self did flow. 1888. thus blossomed into perfect flower of sight. . on Mount WachuseĴ. where Louisa M. Her firm belief. And troubled with the why Of all earthʹs sorrowing cry. beauteous scenes. She sees with spirit-eye What sense could not descry. But now she knows ʹtis so. (WriĴen at Mountain CoĴage. Becomes a restful cheer To all who linger here. For. August. Still asking for the secret of these changing.

Neʹer pausing on its way. Though love its tribute pay. A presence near. Thy heartfelt sympathy and help were to my fresh young soul What these dear Vermont hills Are to the liĴle rills. VERMONT. A. TO J. be now as much To her who feels Timeʹs touch! In different paths. a faithful strength. life-giving and serene— Oh. So gently winds my loving thought through memoryʹs changing scenes. hills. weʹve known the world since then. As winds the lovely OĴer Creek through vales of summer green. C.AT PITTSFORD. . To days of long ago When thee I first did know. through various ways. Together now we rest On Natureʹs peaceful breast.

C. TO M. If knowledge gained in later years May wholly cloud from sight The glimpse which childhoodʹs eye hath caught Of heavenʹs celestial light. Then need we not the atmosphere Of second childhoodʹs days To catch another broader glimpse Of heavenʹs immortal rays? Ah. pure.CHILDHOODʹS DAYS. glorious. we even need to seek. Where sun hath never set? . yes. For how can otherwise we catch The deeper glimpses yet Of life eternal. Immortal childhoodʹs heavenly days Of sweet. Through earthʹs illusive hour. revealing power.

S.AN ANSWER. . Youʹd find the truest story Flashed out in gleams of light. Youʹll find my story grand and true. friend. ʺWhy donʹt I write a story?ʺ Ah. TO B. Worked out in His own way. So in His book of life. P. And as they vanish from me They leave the impress clear. if you could see The depths of hidden heart-life Alas! so known to me. Before which all pens falter And vanish out of sight. That only Heavenʹs pen could write Such stories acted here. Revealed to all some day.

WHERE? WHAT? WHENCE? The kingdom of heaven is where? Oh. Could disclose! The kingdom of heaven is what? Oh. While deigning loveʹs burdens to share. where? Would that the heart which with pity oʹerflows. who knows? . whence? Ah! let the wind and the breath of the rose Their secrets of life and of sense Dare disclose! Could we then see the beĴer whence spirit arose? Who knows? Oh. what? Would that the Infinite Presence which flows Through a life on the earth finely cut Might disclose! The kingdom of heaven is whence? Oh.

Let Nature free them from the strife Of falsehoodʹs way. Who know no rest! Whose hearts neʹer feel the full release From mortal quest. full play. For such we pray. Nor breathe the air where struggles cease The soul to test. And Love through every struggle rife Have free.HEROES. O purifying soul of life. Their fighting oʹer.ʺ But oh. For such we mourn. They feel no more the fevered breath Of baĴleʹs war. The heroes on the baĴlefield are calm in death. the heroes on the grander field of peace. . They hear at last the voice that saith ʺFight on no more.

to my soul. on the baubles of time!) Have a fiĴing strength leĞ to regain needed health For the life of a heavenly clime? For a life where the laws of the spirit. But. And such wrong. on my sad troubled heart!) ʺChrist is risen indeed. ʹtis true. this Easter day! No hope riseth up in my soul. for the faithful and pure!) Can I dare hope to find eʹen a small resting place Free from sin and all earthly allure? Can a soul such as mine. their eternal reward!) And the pleasures obtained with such fever intense Can find nowhere a vibrating chord? Oh.A MAGDALENʹS EASTER CRY. biĴer thoughts of lifeʹs whole. Iʹll believe. not sense. weak. (Ah me. listen! Whatʹs that? Whatʹs that message I hear Bearing down on my sad troubled heart? (Ah me. Bring their perfect eternal reward.ʺ O Christ. and rejoice now at length To feel Easterʹs sweet joy oʹer me roll. He is risen to cheer. added life. woe is me. that has wasted lifeʹs wealth On the baubles and gewgaws of time. And His strength to the weakest impart. To my sin-laden. In the different mansions of heavenly space Prepared for the faithful and pure. woe is me. (Ah me. can it be that Thine own risen strength Can give life. (Ah me. (Ah me. . my poor sin-laden soul!) I have only the dregs of my pleasure to pay. starving soul? Yes.

AĴested to by friend and sage.ʺ she faintly cried. We thank thee more and more each year For this sweet proof of Beautyʹs power Beyond earthʹs transitory hour. revealed its stores. Born of fruitionʹs grander sight. It calms our hours of doubt and pain. Could know that fullest life of man Needs heavenʹs light to round Godʹs plan. And beautifies earthʹs troubled reign. To feel that thou art sending still This same sweet message of Godʹs will. 1861. Then closed her weary eyes and died. O woman-soul without a peer. Of perfect beauty. peace. Could with truthʹs perfect clearness see The secret of lifeʹs mystery. But in our hearts the fact grows bright. Illumined with immortal light. ʺʹTis beautiful!ʺ It must be so. ʺʹTis beautiful. And life. . So stands plain fact on historyʹs page. and light. BROWNINGʹS DEATH. June 29. If such a soul ʹmidst partingʹs woe. not death.FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF MRS. For open eyes saw heavenʹs shores.

O thou soul of my soul. 1889. with new joy For such victory won! . then thy breast. A clasping again! Of a full soul reunion In Loveʹs endless reign! Sing. Fulfilled December 12. ʺA peace out of pain. Then a light. the blessed fruition Of peace out of pain! Of a light without darkness. And with God be the rest!ʺ —Prospice. O earth. with new joy At this victory won! For the faith that endured Till the seĴing of sun! For the hope that shone clear Through the mighty work done! For the love that sought God To guide love here begun! Sing.ROBERT BROWNING. I shall clasp thee again. Oh. O earth.

G. Watch lovingly the well-known way Of one we wait to hail. C. . IN BEHALF OF S. Oʹer gentle waves. in thy vast survey Of all the ships that sail. O Neptune. 1886. September 4.TO NEPTUNE. Boston. ʹneath fair blue sky. O Neptune. The Cephalonia is her name— But why need I tell more? Thou knowest indeed the well earned fame She bears from shore to shore. bear her in thy hand Eʹen yet more tenderly. ʹMidst winds that only blow To make the time more swiĞly fly For hearts that hunger so. But since among her companyʹs band Is one whoʹs life to me.

Once more the form discern.TO THE PANSIES GROWING ON THE GRAVE OF A. Of heartsease and of life. May. But still. Wherein abide immortal love And deathless ministry. At Woodlawn Cemetery. D. Our hearts will wildly yearn To hear once more the loved one speak. For how could otherwise ye grow So sweet and full of cheer? Your watchful love we canʹt oʹerrate. 1886. To realms of light and peace above. Beautiful pansies. Through which our thought may dare retreat From pain and death so rife. lingering here in tears. ye must know Your sacred mission here. . As. S. Fond memory brings the precious weight Of friendshipʹs golden years. Ye are the symbols. while we your comfort seek. From earthʹs alloy set free. pure and sweet.

But this joy is not for me. I. Ah. With its poisoned arrowʹs dart. longing heart Shall be free from pain and sorrow. Not for me. Must I always look for sorrow On the morrow? Must I never have the hope That a life of larger scope Will before my vision ope? II.A BROKEN HEART. III. Comes before my tired eyes With a wondrous sweet surprise. Yet the opening of the gate To the blessed heavenʹs morrow. alone. Without hope. Bearing secretly their fate. apart. When the aching. Alas! for my poor broken heart. . ʹtis true there is but sorrow On the morrow For the broken hearts that wait.

Coming nearer and dearer to me. and free. Of a great human love beyond Nature at best. thatʹs my release. Shall I now know peace? I see in the smallest heavenʹs loan Enough for content— But is that release? O no! My release is but found in the pure undertone. inspiring. I hear in the oceanʹs restless moan My soulʹs lament. happy me! . Will it ever cease? I feel in the rumbling earthquakeʹs groan Deep anguish spent.MY RELEASE. Oh. Happy me. Eternal.

. He ever and anon Sent down to earth his pages The lords to breathe upon. ʺTo bide their time of nonsense. But ʹtwas the old. So back to depths of silence He flew on wings of light. Out from the depths of silence The god of music came. They blind were to his worth. with heavenly glory. And weave the music tender. Full-orbed. To echo heavenly cadence On earthʹs fair shores of fame.THE GOD OF MUSIC. On him his blessing fell. From Germanyʹs fair clime. old story. And as rolled on the ages. TO E. To seize—ere earth could capture— A spirit pure and grand. He found the child Beethoven. So forth he flew in rapture To that dear father-land. He met the lords of earth.ʺ He sang when out of sight. To which he could surrender Himself with perfect ease. At length he felt vibrations. Of heavenʹs own harmonies. Of sweetest modulations Eʹer heard in realms of time. T. And in his soul was woven The sounds we know so well. G.

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(On the completion of his conductorship of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. But music-kings need ministries To sound their hidden harmonies. . And making clear with wondrous art Their wanderings. Great poets can without the aid Of kindred mind Reveal to us the secrets laid On them to find.TO WILHELM GERICKE. We thank thee. For showing us the inmost heart Of these great kings.) 1884–1889. while we tender here A ʺbon voyageʺ to homeʹs loved sphere.

. May 28. 1887. F. I. R. T. AFTER THE BIRTH OF HER SON. A. F.FOR E.

That lovely dimpled face. Than all the choicest works of art. And as I live in this my giĞ.Iʹd rather hear my babyʹs coo. Thoughts such as Mary pondered oʹer Deep in her heart in days of yore Come to upliĞ. Contained in space. . O yes. Iʹd rather see my babyʹs face. Than all the worldʹs delighted gaze. My heaven-sent. A soul-inspiring rest. Become creationʹs mountain height. To satisfy my woman-heart. Inspired by loving hand or heart. My precious baby dear. Chelsea. That liĴle gurgling coo. II. blessed giĞ. Is more than music. Than rarest song or symphony Born out of musicʹs mystery Which once did woo. or fame. ʹtis true. Or make it blest. Beyond the wealth of fame or art. Proclaiming with continued praise My power to rise. art. A. Whereon eʹer shines the beacon-light Of womanhood. F. Or anything that bears the name Of pleasure here. Such deep blue heavenly eyes. Iʹd rather feel my babyʹs eyes. AFTER THE DEATH OF R. my baby dear. For in this joy I find a rest. Mass. And make the claims of motherhood. Dear sacred motherhood.

That lovely dimpled face. Would I could see my babyʹs face. . The wondrous glimpses of soul-light Which filled my heart with strange delight And sweet surprise.ʺ Not mine. When peace was won. My babyʹs face. 1888. Alas! ʺThy will.— O God.February 5. I can but breathe again this prayer. not mine. Of never hearing babyʹs coo. My babyʹs coo. Those deep blue heavenly eyes. how can I bear the pain Of never hearing it again. be done. That liĴle gurgling coo— O God. Of never seeing in those eyes. how can I bear the pain Of never seeing it again. but Thine. be done. As in the days of past despair.

Where pilgrims tend. And symbolize the soulʹs true rest When glorified. Where. she wished no monument To mark the place. F.TO C. Who. That rare mosaic it suggests Made by the hand Of those who seek this favored spot In chosen land. lonely grave. For such could give the needed rest On earth denied. No wonder that the mountain height. she penned her soul At Truthʹs command. Was chosen as the resting place With death to hide. . (Upon receiving a twig of green from the grave of Helen Hunt Jackson. H. Americaʹs pride. Could satisfy the poetʹs thought. Unsatisfied. October. Did not demur From sacrificing all to be Wrongʹs arbiter. But must she not be satisfied To see the space Thus blessed and open to the heart Of every race? O brain of power and heart of fire. oĞ in life. I hold this precious bit of green You kindly send From Cheyenneʹs holy.) With reverent touch and grateful heart. Above sinʹs tide. child of poetry and ease. It touches springs of tenderest life Inspired by her. ʹTis true. Dear thoughtful friend. 1888.

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O spirit friend. O clear-eyed soul. And is time marked in heaven? Dost know.AN ANNIVERSARY POEM. broken lives That death deprives Of help like thine that heavenward strives! And are we known in heaven? Do I. Denied thy praise And all thy many helpful ways! And is earth known in heaven? Dost see. The present changing life of man Still working out the wondrous plan Of making even broken lives add to the complete whole?— Ah. Still have that patient yearning love Which longed to liĞ my soul above The sweet though transitory joys of even earthʹs best fare?— Ah. earthʹs best fare Cannot compare With thy ideal of me laid bare! . And leĞ me in my loneliness the weary days to spend?— Ah. weary days. thy once fond care. ʹTis just a year ago to-day Thou went so suddenly away.

H. TO S. And sorrow and pain be justified? Shall full fruition free my soul From limitationʹs sad control. I have sowed in tears. R. And what to him was truth and life Has shone through all the agesʹ strife. and woe.— Shall I reap in joy? Shall my human heart be satisfied. pain.A COMFORT. . To be at last our beacon-light Of comfort in the darkest night.ʺ Sang a poet-heart in the long ago. ʹMidst depths of sorrow. And all my faculties of mind Their perfect rest and freedom find? ʺThey that sow in tears Shall reap in joy.

Alas! could she but give us back Our giĞed artist boy! But then she sees that it was best That he. The fullest life to show. Are dearer far to me this year Than in the years gone by. like her. should know Death. For they are colors Nature wears To celebrate the time When her pet child changed life on earth For that of heavenly clime. and the Resurrection too. while our hearts Wear not their flowers of joy.AN ANNIVERSARY. She thus rejoices. The autumn tints of these loved hills Outlined against the sky. .

* * * * * * Our nation must thy secret share. .A THANK-OFFERING. Wherein Godʹs spirit lies. By which loveʹs sweet supremacy Becomes manʹs potent need. Thou willing priestess of the art Of true self-sacrifice. Ere it can fully rise To heights of truth and insight where True wisdomʹs glory lies. TO MISS ELIZABETH P. PEABODY. Where childhoodʹs pure eternal light Shines through the blessed days. We thank thee for thy legacy Of thought wrought out in deed. Thou priestess of pure childhoodʹs heart. Ere thy rare spirit takes its flight To realms beyond our praise.

Keep your arms around me. Just a liĴle peĴing At lifeʹs seĴing. alone. In making othersʹ homes more bright. I am hungry For a human loveʹs sweet peĴing At lifeʹs seĴing. For Iʹm old. But now. Whisper that you love me I can bear it now. dear one. LeĞ me alone? No.AT LIFEʹS SETTING. never. And finds me weeping (Dear ones gone). I want a liĴle peĴing At lifeʹs seĴing. and tired. Till all my busy life at length Was spent in giving others strength. And my long lifeʹs work is done. While with deep thought I wrestled. Kiss my fevered brow. For in Godʹs love I nestled. alone and weary. In making othersʹ burdens light. Put your arms around me. Oh. There—like that. . Denied me then and ever. Now I want love. For ʹtis harder to be brave When feeble age comes creeping. how this does rest me Now my work is done! Iʹve all my life loved others. Or brings before my tired eyes Sweet visions of my youthʹs fair prize (There is a pain in sacrifice).

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GRANDMA WAITING. . A TRUE EXPERIENCE.

as before. * * * * * * You want to know my history.ʹ You cannot see the dreadful scars which naught on earth can cure. widowed life I lived in their sweet ways. For sometimes it does seem as if God sends a special giĞ. dear good grandma. my precious all. determined to be true To blessings that were leĞ to me. when your grandmaʹs gone from you. of every child bereĞ. Iʹd come again to know The blessings of a married life—the happiest here below— When. and what is more. you but see the blessed fruit of what God planted sure. child. Apparently so full of peace. To be a special help and strength. You cannot see the passion wild. blind now for many years.— And you wonder whereʹs the passion and the energy of youth. And tried to solve the problems old of human life so strange. were hid. That does oneʹs life renew. kind and true.— Though never free from Memoryʹs thought which oĞen brings the tears. a ʹtrue and blessed saint. Nor can you see my conflict sore. only waiting to be borne across the sea. Through all my lonely. no human life can here be fully understood. we need as much—the wheat from chaff to siĞ. my boy that I loved so. ʹneath the coffin lid. lo! Death seized the oldest one.) You even picture beauties of my home across the sea Which I never dared to hope for eʹen on heights of ecstasy.— Remember this. Ah. my dear one. as ever woman had. And found no sacrifice too great in work for future days. because I am so good? Ah. You call me good. To the home my soulʹs been building all these years of mystery. . Among the flowers. Wherein Iʹve known the heights and depths of human feelingʹs range. At length they were my crowning joy. when I went almost mad Before the dying form of him who had loved me from a lad. so free from doubts and fears. Through ninety years and over now of deep and wondrous change. The power that even dared to sway to evil ways forsooth. A loving husband. before my dear one died. but still I had much leĞ. But still. You see me siĴing helpless here. This opened fresh the old deep wounds. ʹEndure. for the blessed angel Death?ʺ ʺYes waiting. When in my years of sorrow He was whispering. the selfish clouds to liĞ.ʹ (There is illusion sweet indeed in what you child-souls paint Before you know too much of life and feel its evil taint. For then I was not. my children three. who seemed at last a recompense to be.ʺStill waiting. more children came to me: Two lovely boys. perhaps. Or—what. when. So on I went in daily life.

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And work in the light of the promise Of blessed results Christ foresaw. Like her be obedient to law. Does it pay? To be free from this burden and worry. sweet tempered. All the planning and nervous wild action. We must know the pure secret of Nature. To be peaceful. To have knowledge without fear and pain. All the learning acquired with pain. And alway. . far-seeing. Life will pay. The restlessness following gain.DOES IT PAY? Does it pay—all this burden and worry. And calm in the presence of gain. Then each day.

Go on and do thy best. Which in this age of clown and sage Her progress gained hath wrought. The poet brave eʹer loves to rave Of wars and victories gained.ʹ And tell in truth Godʹs plan. She needs such one to help her shun The deeper shoals of wrong. The poet sweet eʹen dares repeat The angelsʹ songs unfeigned. The poet bold eʹen dares behold The mystery above. Must thou thy wealth so share? America feign would have the reign Of one thy giĞ to bear. The poet young eʹer finds a tongue To tell the joys of love.AUXILIUM AB ALTO. While he declares as well as shares The fullest life of man. She needs such one to help her shun The dangerous shoals of thought. ʺWell done. ʺO goddess high. But yet we cry.ʺ Though still we feel each doth but seal A part of lifeʹs bequest. Oh. send such one to say. And to each one we say. Which in these days of doubtʹs fond lays Tempt eʹen her favored strong.ʺ . ʹWell done.

As waves of sad depression rolled on her soul to gain. ʺOh. ʺWould that my acts could equal the noble acts Iʹve told.LIMITATIONS. As waves of great temptation before him high did roll. . would that I could body the thoughts that govern me. in agony of soul. would that I could picture the visions I foresee!ʺ So cried a saintly woman. Would that I could but master myself as visions bold!ʺ So cried a famous artist. in ecstasy of pain. Oh.

THE MUSE OF HISTORY. .

When man came forth supreme. with her flickering light And book of valued lore. Shall be brought forth for lasting praise The ever great First Cause. Proud of her knowledge gained. Comes down the ages. From searching mysteryʹs cause. She walks with glad majestic mien. ʹTwas thus in days of Genesis. in creationʹs heat. For in it is the precious force Of spirit-life divine. Her face with lines of care is wrought. Though mourning oĞ at having seen Manʹs life so dulled and pained. And thus ʹtwill be in future days. Oh.Clio. Yet still she blushes with new life At sight of actions fine. dark and bright. And pales with anguish at the strife Of evilʹs dread design. When out from spirit laws. And not so thoughtlessly refuse Her book of lore sublime. Our interest to implore. When Love did dare redeem. ʹTwas thus in days of Nemesis. . And dealing with the hidden thought Of natureʹs subtle laws. Which even through a winding course Leads in to Wisdomʹs shrine. gladly know this wondrous muse Who walks the aisles of Time. She sees evolved a higher phase Of lifeʹs fruition sweet. She stops to sing her grandest lays When.

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Heʹs fled Beyond the mortal sight.. Death is but more Life. But now the tie is snapped. hark! Is ʹt not his voice I hear.. (WriĴen for G. With comfort as of yore? ʺDear brother.ʺ . But. H. 1889. on the death of W. T. The grave with all its mystery Asserts Deathʹs power to blight.) As brothers here weʹve shared the smiles. And felt the sweet companionship Of manhoodʹs love and power. The grave is heavenʹs door. S. T. March.AN IMPROMPTU. Alas! Death seems the cruel thing In this bright world of ours. The tears of boyhoodʹs hour. The bravest soul shrinks from its hold Though loving faith empowers.

July 12. .TO MRS. 1886. PARTINGTON.

Shall I be old. ʺOrdained beforehand. No ʺreprehensibleʺ despair. purest lines. What ʺAngular Saxonʺ would say so? ʺCongestive thoughts then so inane .— ʺNot till I am an octagon.) To hurl not ʺepitaphsʺ which sting.ʺ O no. And.ʺ (ʹTwas ʺforeordained. Done in the priming of thy life.— When three score years and one did crown thee. with factories gone All idiomatic and forlorn. not crutch alone Finds in that book its value shown. Of ʺfluidʺ thoughts which counteract The ʺbigamiesʺ of fate and fact. But a new ʺErieʹsʺ dawn to bring. There in the depths of friendshipʹs mines Are seen thy tenderest. in advance. But teeming thoughts on Mounds and Press Poured out in pure unselfishness. by the way. worse still. Alas! thy crutch of many years Still hints ʺromanticʺ pains and fears.ʺ that does enhance. A ʺWidow Cruiseʹs oil jugʺ say. This brings to mind thy KniĴing-Work. Impromptus born at loveʹs command To deck occasionʹs wise demand.ʺ But thou art still a ʺmembraneʺ dear Of what we call societyʹs cheer. ʺContusion of ideas. To keep ʺplumbagoʺ still at bay! Its helpful mission has a share In ʺLines of Pleasant Placesʺ rare. Or. One finds no ʺSarahʹs desertʺ there. a centurion. And other books with humor rife. Wherein that ʺplaguey Ikeʺ does lurk.Another birthday here? It hardly seems a year Since I these words did hear.

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Were I the man-of-war bird he has pictured Nothing could keep me from flying that way. W.. ʺSplendor of ended day floating and filling me. . MAY 31.LINES SENT TO THE DINNER GIVEN IN HONOR OF WALT WHITMANʹS SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. For on the swiĞ wings of the ending dayʹs splendor My soul will glide in to drink deep the cupʹs wealth. though absent in body.M. AT CAMDEN.J. 1889. thereʹs nothing can hinder My tasting the joys of that festive birthday. what I drink to his health?— Splendor of ended day Be but the door Opening the endless way Life evermore. AT 5 OʹCLOCK P.ʺB Comes to my mind as I think of the hour When our poet and friend will be lovingly drinking The mystical cup of the seventy yearsʹ power. B ʺSong at Sunset. But. N. Who knows but the poetʹs keen sense of pure friendship Will feel.ʺ—W. ʹmidst the joy.

SONNETS. .

and in words experienced-fraught. 1887.) If Paul in Athensʹ street leĞ nothing more Than what he found when deep in sacred thought. Through Paul we dare thus far. heaven-taught. ʺThe Unknown God.ʺ published in the BOSTON COURIER of August 21. Declared he God as known forevermore. But.— The To the Unknown God of heathen lore.— Then were he only one on thoughtʹs wide shore To lose his name in others. They are Loveʹs balm to permeate true mental strife. August.THE KNOWN GOD. 1887. Undaunted. Paulʹs words. made deep and strong by martyred life. (Suggested by Arlo Batesʹ sonnet. Are more than vision deified. And bring to sin-sick weary souls a star Of hope born of temptationʹs struggles rife. He stood and marvelled oʹer what had been wrought. To the Known God. .

Or resting satisfied in deeds of worth? O no! ʹTis when we breathe loveʹs atmosphere. O type of manhood. AĴuned to law of man as well as God. Boston. How can we thank thee for thy helpful cheer. 1890. having trod With Christ the spirit-fields. and chaste. And live like thee the life of heavenly birth. in eager haste Makes glad return to give us blessed taste Of fruit there found. O master-spirit of the priests of earth? By daily doing penance without fear. Through thee our feet are shod With gospel-peace. strong. who. while thy imperial rod Becomes our need in times of drought or waste.TO PHILLIPS BROOKS. serene. . We hail thee as a guide.

Holds for my ear thoughts voiced by forms that teemed Two hundred years ago with life and power. Antipas Newman. Reveal a wealth beyond that which appears In modern homes built eʹer so lovingly. holding through the years Continuous life of manʹs activity. The ancient room. who married. redeemed From all the chaff that time fails not to shower. Ah. Have they not claim to personality? . while living there.AT THE ʺPORTER MANSE. It was bought by John Porter in 1703. It was the house which Wenham (the first distinct township set off—in 1639—from Salem) gave to the second pastor of its church. while life that only seemed On historyʹs page becomes the real. low-beamed.ʺ [That part of the Porter Manse containing the room referred to was built early in the last half of the seventeenth century.] Before a smouldering fire at twilight hour I muse alone. and has remained in his family name without alienation to this day. I breathe the essence of sweet joys that flower In light of home. such old places. Imbued so long with human hopes and fears. Governor Winthropʹs daughter. Rev.

forsooth. and through tact and grace. Of all those born into the name to share The charming freedom of the Porter Manse. Kind tolerance And wide-embracing sympathy enhance Her power to please and lighten daily care. Her gracious calm makes hospitality wear A beauteous crown of peace. Such cannot fail. They lose not hope. though sorrow leave a trace In all their joy. Make growing years reflect the joys of youth. None were more worthy of inheritance Than she who now presides as lady there. Of making home a loved abiding place. . ʹTis only such rare souls who pierce the truth Of home-life secrets.OUR LADY OF THE MANSE.

Oh. may lifeʹs twilight hold a peace as true. ʹTis then my thoughts go wandering with delight Through oĞ-frequented avenues of space To those dear souls—the dearest of the race— Whoʹve dwelt with me on friendshipʹs purest height.TO B. July 12. When lingering Day at last recedes from sight. Preceded by a twilight-hourʹs loved face Reflecting glorious rays of sunset light. And Night comes slowly forth to fill her place. . From this old mountain-top I come to you. P. With birthday greetings of the roseate hue LeĞ by a perfect Day just lingering here. My large souled trusted friend of many a year. And be as filled with hope of dawnʹs sweet cheer! Mount WachuseĴ. 1888. Mass. SHILLABER.

if only we be served. We. nobler deed. Who. Cannot forget that life to ends thus curved Made time for us to plant our own pet seed. all undeserved. thoughtful ever of our need.TO OUR MARY. ForgeĴing self. Or brought to being thoughts that intercede For othersʹ progress.. The world owes much to many a sister dear. Mass. banishing with tears in midnight hour A fond desire for larger. How oĞ thy loving sympathy has nerved Our fainting hearts to kinder. . Sweet sister. Such may know eʹen here A Christ-like joy unknown to worldly power. 1887. Strives faithfully in lowly life to shower Rich daily blessings. happier sphere. Chelsea.

which graciously awaits Thy fair soulʹs bidding.A BIRTHDAY REMEMBRANCE. deathless lay. which unfold The fresh new days thine eye neʹer underrates. If. D. Time brings to thee from out his storehouse old Another year. Thou its secrets hold! Are not such birthdays restful stepping stones. TO F. Clothed in chameleon garments. September 26. To aid the growing soul pick out the way To life eternal? Not earthʹs biĴerest moans Or wildest joys can manʹs true progress stay. as it estimates The wealth the parting year has leĞ untold. 1887. L. . It brings continued hope of life that dates Manʹs finest being. he but hear the tones Of immortalityʹs soothing. in these pauses.

This precious earthly temple of Artʹs shrine! May chilling poverty. Dost feel awe-struck to know thou hast the keys To new and wondrous unheard harmonies? O favored boy. O sky. . her laws divine. Hushed are our souls before what thy soul sees! Guard tenderly. neʹer hinder Geniusʹ wise design To have full sway—as she anticipates— In working out. while lingering here On earth to fit us for the heavenly sphere. a temple where in ease Expectant Genius dwells. (AĞer hearing him play at Boston Music Hall in 1888.JOSEF HOFMANN. or sin that dates Soul loss. O earth. in time. O fates.) O marvellous child. marked out to be the peer Of those who in all ages Godʹs voice hear.

I.
AFTER THE DENIAL. John 21: 15–18.

When fast was broken on Tiberiasʹ shore, The risen Lord, still anxious that his own Should know loveʹs secret as to him ʹtwas known, Thrice asked of Peter, ʺLovest thou me more Than these?ʺ The third time Peterʹs heart was sore. Must even love divine have doubtʹs sad tone? ʺThou knowest, Lord, I love thee,ʺ was his moan. Then, ʺFeed my sheep,ʺ Christ answered as before. Still in these days the risen Lord bends oʹer The shores of time, and longs for human love; The love that hears his voice, awake, asleep, And makes response as Peter did of yore. ʺLovest thou me?ʺ O Christ, from heights above, Thou knowest that we love thee. ʺFeed my sheep.ʺ

II.
GETHSEMANE. MaĴhew 26:36–46.

ʺCould ye not watch with me one hour?ʺ O heart Of Christ, still longing in the biĴerest hour For human sympathy and love to shower A needed strength beyond words to impart! Humanity is richer for this art Of seeing in poor finite man a power— Before which even ministering angels cower— To know all truth, eʹen dread Gethsemaneʹs smart. Alas! the power to know will bring the pain. But through the pain of wisdomʹs true insight Is Christʹs own perfect sympathy made plain. Possessed of this, we see in tenderest light His sorrowing heart in failing to obtain The longed-for love in hour of darkest night.

ON LAKE MEMPHREMAGOG.
By old Owlʹs Head on Memphremagogʹs side, In hammock-nook ʹmidst scenery wild and bold, The spirit of the waters, as of old, Broods oʹer my soul, its secrets to confide, It whispers of the anguish, joy, and pride, The heart of man has on its bosom told; And hails as conqueror Him who once did hold Its heart in peace when tempest-tossed and tried. Loved spirit of the waters, we too hail The power of Him who walked the holy sea Of Galilee. Capacity to fail Were harder to believe than victory. May He who conquered wildest Natureʹs heart His infinite power and rest to us impart! August, 1891.

Cried out ʺʹTis finished. Forgiveness here is shown in sweetest light.ʺ as he death obeyed. In biĴerest wrong this marvellous soul was weighed With tenderest love and longing towards those who. They know the secret of Christʹs victory.LUKE 23:24.ʺ O blessed sight Into the heart of sinʹs great mystery. From holy depths he to the Father prayed. Through ignorance of what they might be too.ʺ His heart. ʺForgive them. Blest are those souls who reach this precious height. Were now the slaves of evil passionʹs raid. . for they know not what they do. ʺThey know not what they do. pierced then with anguish through and through. Clothed in her garment of sincerity.

see the Boston Literary World. Did we not garner thoughts for future days? ʹTis one of wisdomʹs joys.. In company with poets grand and good Who met our human natureʹs every mood. Lend a Hand. friends. and June 9. C For an account of this Home Club. beyond our words to praise! In seeking for the secret of the lays Which clothed in art pure Natureʹs daily food. What life was ours. 1889.C While dwelling in sweet wisdomʹs fruitful ways. while lingering here To plant her seeds of righteousness and peace. of July 9. To give a sweet companionship and cheer To those who seek from her their soulʹs increase. 1888. 1888. 1887. Or brought to light a Christian brotherhood. .TO THE MEMBERS OF MY HOME CLUB. weʹve felt in our Club atmosphere. This. May its sweet memory linger till life cease! Chelsea. for September. also. Mass.

FOR MY LITTLE NEPHEWS AND NIECES. .

Harold. baby boy. Dream of loveliest beauty in thine hour of sleep. lullaby. While the holy angels bless thee with a kiss. lullaby. So shall mamma feel a breath Of celestial power. Harold. lullaby. . Catch the sweetest glimpses of the heavenly bliss. lullaby. baby boy. lullaby. Lullaby. Lullaby.A MAMMAʹS LULLABY. Of babyʹs waking hour. Lullaby. Lullaby. To beautify the ministry. lullaby.

Sister Rosamond! I must kiss you. You will need my stay. as lovely fair young woman.WARRENʹS SONG. manly. Generous. To protect you Or to rescue From the faults of friend or foe. Darling Rosebud. sister dear! Oh. I must grow more wise and graceful Every way. strong in mind. How I love you. Worthy of my Rosebud. sister dear! . Darling Rosebud. That I may be true and helpful For the day When. Striving always to endure What will make me honest. How I love you. I must be your liĴle beau. baby dear. How I love you. I must hug you. Sweetest Rosebud. I will be good and pure. kind. How I love you.

winsome ways. Joyous laughter keeping pace With a motion full of grace— I see! Thoughtful baby Mildred. on her rocking horse— I see! Never slipping from her place. Into mischief everywhere.BABY MILDRED. papaʹs pet and pride— I know! Lighting up the passing days With such happy. playing on the floor— I see! Creeping here and creeping there. Darling baby Mildred. Mammaʹs liĴle pet and care— I see! Fearless baby Mildred. lovely eyes all closed— Sleep on! Waking. Joy of household life that pays— I know! Tired baby Mildred. Whispering secrets in her ear— Sleep on! Sleep on! . heaven will be more near For the angelsʹ presence here.

playing on the floor— I see! Laughing blue eyes. dimpled face.ROSAMOND AND MILDRED. born the same glad year— I know! Cousins. Laughing brown eyes. Chubby hands that interlace— I see! Rosamond and Mildred. ways of grace. each in her own way Growing wiser every day. parting to go home— Good-bye! Each a liĴle picture fair. Then at last a sweet success— I see! Rosamond and Mildred. Carrying blessing everywhere. Full of promise as of play— I know! Rosamond and Mildred. Grateful are we for our share— Good-bye! Good-bye! . Rosamond and Mildred. Trembling in new happiness. trying hard to walk— I see! Clinging now to mammaʹs dress.

Chinchilla? Come. here she comes bounding. ʹChilla!— Ah. Oh. who could but love her.ʹCHILLA. Our dear preĴy ʹChilla! . who could but love her! Her fur like chinchilla— Her movements all grace— Such a wise liĴle face— What kiĴy is like her? Oh. So quickly responding.

eagerly.ʺ replied Mac. blue-eyed boy. (A FACT. with leaves all bound?ʺ These were the same two liĴle boys Whose nurse searched far and wide For liĴle sisterʹs rubber shoes. I paused a while to watch with joy His bright. When evolutionʹs grand idea Shall oʹer their vision sweep. four years old. expressive look. laying down my book. A childlike faith and earnestness May fill them then as now. To see if they would bigger grow To fit our feet all right. ʺI know. Say. ʺWhere can they be?ʺ she cried.) My liĴle nephew.CHILDISH FANCIES. Was one day playing by my side With this and that pet toy. ʺWe planted them last night. As at Truthʹs shrine they bow. . A sweet-faced.ʺ Dear liĴle boys! These fancies hint Of future questions deep. would it grow to be a book Like yours. God grant that when these come to them.— ʺIf Mac and I should plant today Some paper in the ground. When all at once he said to me.— As.

it would. how his eyes did shine! How could he stop to calculate The size of such a thing. how such things allure! No sooner was the cent in hand. Than off the fair boy ran To buy his candy.ʺ Or liĴle ʺcandy-man. He said. All thought of candy was forgot. And never girl or boy Went tripping homeward through the streets With greater wealth or joy. in scanning well A window full of toys. sure. Sat on his grandpaʹs knee. He spied a ring with big red stone. When. Oʹerlooked by other boys.—the liĴle teaze. The ring was bought. looking up bewitchingly.— ʺWill grandpa give me just one cent To buy some candy.ʺ Now on his way.WHAT LITTLE BERTRAM DID. six years old. Rosamond— Oh. His only care was for the price— Would one cent buy the ring? Ah yes. Heʹd buy that ring so fine For his new sister. please?ʺ Who could resist such loveliness? This grandpa could not. Enjoying to the full the love That grandpa gave so free. (A FACT) Our liĴle Bertram. So with a kiss he gave the cent— Ah. ʺʹlasses kind. .

.

) .ʺDEAR LITTLE MAC.ʺD (A FACT.

He is.ʺ ʺHeʹs not up there.ʺ replied the four-year old.— . with a sigh. To have their say Concerning this great mystery Death had brought.— Which might some shock.When nearly eight years old. My mamma told me so. In happy chase Of many a thought which fliĴed through his mind. and every other part.ʺ said Bertram. His head.ʺ ʺHe isnʹt there. While Miriam felt the joy of victory. Two of the children paused in midst of play. Then suddenly The lovely six-year-old this idea caught: ʺI tell you what. ʺHe canʹt be.ʺ A moment Bertram sat absorbed in thought. dear liĴle Mac Was called from out his happy home-life here To that blest sphere Beyond earthʹs dearest power to call him back.ʺ another said.ʺ said Miriam. ʺInstead of guiding him. he knows more than we.ʺ The child thus solved the thought that troubled so.ʺ While thus the older ones their comfort sought. ʺHeʹs gone way up to heaven where angels are. heʹll be our guide To where abide The things we need most to be comforted. And I went round And threw some flowers in for him to see. his feet. Way up so far That we canʹt ever see him till we die. He isnʹt in the ground all dark and cold. ʺHis questions wise will now sure answer find. Macʹs bodyʹs in the ground. But just his heart— And thatʹs gone up to heaven. And as I overheard this earnest talk. ʺHeʹs up in heaven. I saw them put him in the cold dark ground. ʺDear liĴle Mac. ʺYes. and angels found. I know.ʺ Said one whoʹd loved to watch his eager face.

. November 8. Mass.D MacLaurin Cooke Gould.. 1887. died in Maplewood.

1888.WILLARD AND FLORENCE ON MOUNT WACHUSETT. July. .

Old Monadnock clear. Listening ʹneath the sylvan shade To its rippling tone. Hearing birdsʹ sweet lay. Waiting for the ʺTally-Ho. Singing low and singing loud While the swiĞ day flies. Hearing strangers tell their tales . SiĴing under trees. Spying where the mayflowers grew Earlier in the year. Watching for the sun to rise. Gathering glistening ʺsundewʺ there For ʺdear mammaʹs sakeʺ. Climbing up the steep path side To WachuseĴʹs top. Filled with summer joy. Down at preĴy Echo Lake. With that graceful skip and hop Born where fairies hide.Happy liĴle girl and boy. Only pausing there to roam Where laurel finds abode. Picking in the pastures near Berries red and blue. Jumping on the new-mown hay. Plucking maiden-hair. Feeling every mountain breeze. While Washacum twin-lakes near Sparkle in sun-light. Seeing Holyoke from the height. Dancing hand in hand Over hill and valley land. Tripping down the mountain-road Back to coĴage home. Lying on the mossy stone By the brookʹs cascade.ʺ With its looked-for mails. Following sunset-cloud.

A LITTLE BRAZILIAN.
(A FACT.)

ʹTwas in Brazil last Christmas day, While at a family feast, A liĴle girl of five years old The merriment increased, By crying out,—as glasses held The ice she neʹer had seen,— ʺOh see! what preĴy liĴle stones. What for? Where have they been?ʺ ʺHere, give her one,ʺ the host exclaimed, Pleased with her childish glee. ʺʹTwill show her as no words could show What ice is, and must be.ʺ She grasped the ʺwhite stoneʺ in her hand, All watching eagerly, When suddenly she let it fall, And cried, ʺItʹs burning me.ʺ But, anxious still to see it more, She asked a servant near To hand it in a napkin wrapped— Then there would be no fear. Again the ice was in her hand, Her plaything for the day, When all at once she cried aloud, ʺThe stone is running away.ʺ A glass of water now was used, Sure that would keep it hers. But no! with all her loving watch The same result occurs. The plaything gone, at evening hour She sat on uncleʹs knee. ʺWho makes those white stones, you or God?ʺ She asked, inquiringly. ʺIn Miss Brownʹs land [a Boston friend] God makes them,ʺ answered he. ʺBut in Brazil a factory-man Makes them for you and me.ʺ A momentʹs pause. Then said the child,— Heavenʹs blessing on her fall,— ʺWhy doesnʹt God get from Brazil

.

THE LITTLE DOUBTER. .

ʺI donʹt believe ʹtis shining still. Because of feelings stirred? ʺI wonʹt believe it till I see The sun behind that cloud. To say in accents loud. ʺPerhaps sheʹll need this proof.ʺ The mother quickly answered back. Now. Behold the cloud did suddenly Become imbued with light. Who has not asked before This question oʹer and oʹer? ʺBehind the clouds so thick and black The sun is shining still. liĴle girl Of flaxen curl. In doubt almost a pain.ʺMamma. full of joy at victory won. where is the sun to-day. Or victoryʹs power destroy. The child looked up in strange surprise. While all this rain comes down?ʺ Ah. She danced with childish pride. ʺThere. But dared not quench the glad surprise. Ah.ʺ she sighed. Her child with faith to fill. . mamma. there.ʺ She still went on. ʺOf hidden things made plain. defiantly. while she gazed as if to see The truth made known by sight. liĴle girl Of flaxen curl. Then turned again her wistful eyes To watch the pouring rain.ʺ She muĴered to herself. The mother watched with tearful eyes Her childʹs transparent joy. When in the depths of life sheʹs tried. Why doubt eʹen motherʹs word. the sun. And. the sun!ʺ The liĴle doubter cried.

.

OUR KITTYʹS TRICK.E .

Then liĞs with wondrous grace Her velvet paw to take the ball From out its hiding place. When. When asked. kiĴy dear. with only head in sight. She thus will lie in calm repose So long as I am still. And wait again to see the ball Roll on the long hall floor. Her eyes will shine. Where from a box it peeps. She will not cease to look and beg. The ball to see me throw.I know that all the boys and girls Would be so glad to see Our kiĴy do the liĴle trick She oĞen does for me. Ah. But if I move to touch the ball. Then quickly to the floor she jumps. Unconscious of the trick sheʹs done. act. who told you how To join thought. She never fails to bring it back. she nestles by my side. whereʹs the ball?ʺ She to my shoulder leaps. and sight? Must not we think that in you dwells . Since three months old or less. Then all her nerves will thrill. ʺO kiĴy. And looks directly to the shelf. sheʹll quickly find Her place behind the door. She runs behind the open door That leads into the hall. dropping first the ball. Then aĞer it she scampers well Some forty feet or so. Until I find the place Where she can take between her teeth The ball with easy grace. She waits. This done. And purrs while I caress.

E

These verses, true in every detail, are only preserved in remembrance of a pet cat of our family for many years.

A MESSAGE.
A mountain hides within itself This message grand and true, Which at my bidding came to-day For me to give to you: ʺDrink deep of Natureʹs sweetest life, While learning how to wait. Stand strong against the tempestʹs strife, Not questioning the fate. Then shalt thou live above the din Of peĴy things below, Absorbing depths of life within, The future to oʹerflow.ʺ At the foot of Mount Holyoke.

Page 32: Unbalanced closing quotation mark retained aĞer: Godʹs thought. Page 78: ʺIn perfect harmonyʺ was printed as ʺperectʺ. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stray Pebbles from the Shores of Thought.htm or 44973-h. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. inconsistent hyphenation was retained. otherwise they were not changed. and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license.) Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed.pgdp.org/4/4/9/7/44973/ Produced by David Garcia. reports. Footnotes have been moved to the ends of the poems that reference them. Simple typographical errors were corrected. unless you receive specific permission. performances and research. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook. and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works.gutenberg. apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries. complying with the rules is very easy. especially commercial . by Elizabeth Porter Gould *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAY PEBBLES *** ***** This file should be named 44973-h.Transcribersʹ Notes Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book. It sometimes was unclear whether or not a new stanza began on a new page. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works. Special rules. Charlie Howard. set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license. so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.

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