Home Lyrics: A Book of Poems Part 3

Blossy, a dark-eyed, happy girl, Whom fourteen years have seen, Blooming in gentle maidenhood, As fair as e'er was seen.

And then a darling child of four, Like a fair beam of light, The household flower, who filled the home With perfume and delight.

Nice Annie, a fair, dimpled girl, Who with untiring care Strove in the home's machinery To take her loving share.

Mary, the maid, with active zeal And ever thoughtful heart.

With conscientious care fulfilled Her well-directed part.

Well skilled in culinary lore, Her "graham gems" kept time With all the other household gems Which in rare grace combine.

Accept these simple words of love, Dear friends, as we now part, And guard kind thoughts of me, I pray, Within the household heart.

MRS. LANGTRY AS MISS HARDCASTLE IN "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER."

Like a radiant gleam of sunshine She glanced upon the sight, A being rare and lovely, With wit and beauty bright.

Moulded and fashioned finely, With tall, lithe, rounded form, And graceful mien and manner, Her beauty to adorn.

Without one graceless effort, And perfected by art, She gave a faithful rendering Of her adopted part.

Her every turn and movement Was poetry and grace, Which lent a sweet enchantment To her expressive face.

Supported splendidly by all The other artists there, Who well deserve with her, their star, The public praise to share.

Would that we had more artists As natural as she, Then might the stage a mirror Of true life prove to be.

THE SHAKER GIRL

I met a pleasant, thoughtful girl, Fresh from a homely band Of Shaker brethren who fare well In this far Western land.

I talked to her of earthly love, She answered with a sigh; I sought to know the hidden truth, And asked the reason why She would prefer a Shaker's life, Pleasant though it might be, To working in the free, grand world, Consistently and free, With household duties wooing her, And babies on her knee?

She blushed a trifle, and looked shy, Confessed the truth was plain, That if "some one" should ever come And seek her love again, She would, with all her loving heart, Accept his profferred hand, And leave her Shaker friends with him, For any clime or land; But that she doubted that the love He once professed was o'er, And that she feared that it for her Was quenched for evermore; And so she guessed she'd best return To her calm Shaker home, And curb the feelings of her heart, And never seek to roam.

O Shaker maiden, pause, I pray, Take further earnest thought, Nor stay the longings of your heart, With heaven-born nature fraught Duties there are on every side, Awaiting willing hands, All unrestricted, unconfined By any creeds or lands.

Sweet ties of home are holier far, Spontaneous acts more true, Than any Shaker work ordained For man to struggle through.

ICE PALACE.

O palace of marvellous beauty and light, Like a shrine of enchantment thou art to the sight, As sparkling with pride 'neath the sun's fond caress, Thou blushest with love's conscious joyful excess.

Ten thousand bright jewels, from Neptune's realm won, Compose thy weird structure, where daily the sun And nightly the Moon in turn sparklingly play Through each lunar ripple and bright solar ray.

Like some ancient temple upreared to the sun, As chaste as a bride--and as pure as a nun, Result of stern winter's imperious commands, Fitting tribute to it in these northern lands.

Thy empire, O ice king, is stern and severe, But it has rare pleasures which all hold most dear.

We, our winter pastimes to greet thee convoke, And the G.o.ddess of health with thee daily invoke.

In gleeful a.s.semblage we now celebrate Thy reign, through tobogganing, snow-shoes, and skate, In sliding along to the sleigh-bells' blithe sound, O'er rivers, and meadows, and snow-mantled ground.

Then hurrah for the Palace, the ice king, the snow; Around them let mirth and hilarity flow, Hurrah for our Governor, country, and main, And G.o.d bless our loved Queen, and long may she reign.

THE FABLE OF THE SPHYNX

_Facts gathered from a lecture by George Chainey, of Boston, U.S._

Oh! the image and the fable of the Sphynx!

What lessons do they teach, What sermons do they preach Of the riddle and the mystery of life!

'Tis a union of brute force and love sublime.

A female face and head To a lioness form are wed, Embodying strength and purity divine.

The lioness, a symbol of wild might; The peerless head and face, And bust of female grace, Are types of pure affection and delight.

In each one lies this dual element: Leonine cruelty, That well might master be, If not o'er-ruled by strict fidelity.

And the all-powerful conquering light of love, Which, blessing those who give No less than who receive, Makes bliss on earth, as G.o.d's laws clearly prove.

In crowning thus the Sphynx with love's sweet worth, We have for us the old, Sweet gospel ever told That love in peerless might should rule the world.