4 poems:
1. Jealousy
2. The Seasons
3. Higher
4. The Life Stream of Man and Woman.
Jealousy
The darkest passion of the soul
Is jealousy without control.
It prompts the strongest wrath and hate,
And most discordant lives create,
That subject holds its ruling sway,
Its darkest night obscures the day,
That on the mental pathway lies,
To lift our thoughts toward the skies.
It drags us down to depths of woe,
Its galling chains around us throw.
It binds the soul in its allure,
And all our nobler traits obscure,
Till we like some dark fiend appear
To all around we hold so dear,
Indulging in this demon hate,
Which jealousy in us create.
O! banish it with one strong will,
And swear its sway no more shall fill
The sacred gardens of the soul
As serpents in its flowers tenfold,
To sting its fangs of poison there,
The choicest flowers and fruits most rare,
Which in the sunlight of the soul
Would ripen up with life untold.
The baser attributes of mind
Should not enslave the soul and bind
Within its ruling darkness there
As clouds obscure the sunlight fair.
Or hollows break upon the shore
In wildest storms tempestuous roar
That chills the heart that onward gaze
To see lives wrecked upon its waves.
Think of the great immortal view
Of life in endless chain review
And then reflect if it shall be
Spent always to bind those to thee.
That would not by attraction cling
To there its souls best offering,
O rather spurn a soul like this
That gives to these the Judas kiss.
In nobler traits of soul to find
A truer harmonizing mind
That through the storms when billows wake
Will closer cling o'er swell and break,
And never give to jealous mind
All that its bitterness entwined
For this will darken mind and soul
That gives a life to its control.
The Seasons
The incoming life if the seasons is Spring,
With snatches of song on her flowery wing,
She is lifting the buds into opening flowers;
From the ice-bound fetters of winter hours.
She is spreading the brown earth with carpets of green,
Interlacing with cloudlets of silvery silvery sheen;
The waters are leaping and laughing in glee,
On their murmering voyage away to the sea.
Thus Spring, with light footsteps over the earth,
Awakens to life the glorious birth
Of nature's sweet voices again on the ear,
In musical gladness with sunshine and tear.
Gliding onward and onward, with frolicksome glee,
'Till the song of the summer and hum of the bee
Is the musical lay she is singing so sweet,
O'er the blossoming landscape submerging in heat.
While to cool her warm forehead thezephyrs at play,
O'er the green flowery meadows are winging their way
To the green leafy bowers where the song of the bird
"And the musical lay of the Cuckoo is heard."
The butterfly gay and the hummingbird sweet,
Are winging their way to some rosy retreat,
Gliding onward and onward, to sip from the flowers
The sweet honey-dew in the bright summer hours.
Thus she sings the glad song of the sweet summertime,
'Till she wreaths her fair brow with a wreath more sublime,
And tinges the glow of the blue summer sky,
More complete with the hue of the autumn dye.
She sprinkles her costume with silver and gold,
From treasures she's bearing in measures untold,
To lay at the feet of the reaper of sleaves,
And bring the ripe fruit from the clustering leaves.
Thus onward she glides in halo of light,
'Till autumn winds come, with frosting to blight,
And scatter the leaves to spread o'er the bier,
She's bringing to welcome the close of the year.
Then she flings o'er the earth her mantle of snow,
And fetters the streams in their murmering flow,
And brings the white robes of pureness to dress
The close of the year in the sweetness of rest.
Thus man, like the seasons, is gliding along,
In the spring of his life it is gladness and song,
The summer is bringing a joy more complete,
The perfected blossom is bringing its sweet.
Until in the autumn of life, it is more
Complete in its treasures of mind laid in store,
'Till the winter of life in its pureness is dressed
And the white robes are bringing the sweetness of rest.
But rest only comes to the body of clay,
The spirit immortal is winging its way
To worlds more complete, where the seasons with bring,
The overdue eternal of glorious spring.
Higher
Higher, upward, man an woman,
Each and all new truths to gain;
That your footsteps leave impressions
On the monument of fame.
That to history be transmitted,
Deeds and truths that may be thine,
You have earnestly unfolded
To the onward march of time.
Higher is this age of progress,
To the age of long ago,
When the martial tread of science
Beat so turbulent and slow.
Then why not each one endeavor,
For the man of ages past,
Knew not that their lives forever
Down to history would last.
Hills of progress rise before there,
Onward! search of depth and cause!
It will lift they mind still upward,
And unfold great nature's laws.
If your life-work has been ever
To promote the Truth and Light--
Braving scorns and persecutions
That you may stand in the right,
Then the life which is eternal,
On the hills of Time will gleam;
When from earth you'll take departure,
Still more brighter life will seem.
The Life Stream of Man and Woman.
Upon the banks of a tiny stream,
Which from the mountain rocks did gleam
Like a silver thread, and wound along
Through moss and flowers with murmering song.
There played two children, a girl and boy,
Among the pebbles in childish joy;
And each so happy and full of glee,
Seemed like the rivulet, in nature free.
They wandered on and the brook grew wide,
And I saw them playing still beside
The stream, each gathering flowers that grew
Upon its banks, in the glistening dew.
Or climbing trees where the wild birds sung
In the branches which o'er the waters hung;
Then away with the butterfly and bee,
In a chase among the blossoms free.
Then rolling upon the mossy green,
Which fringes the banks of the sunny stream,
And gazing away in the bright blue dome,
Where the sunlight strays from its far-off home,
And tinges with glory the mountain crest,
And the eagle's home, in her lofty nest,
And they gaze on the glory with womdering eye,
'Till weary of searching the bright blue sky.
They fall asleep in a golden dream,
And the hours speed on with time unseen;
And none could doubt but nature smiled,
The same her treasures upon each child.
That God made the sunshine, the fruits, the flowers,
Alike for both in their youthful hours,
But as time sped on a change came o'er
The two that seemed so equal before.
For the stream had grown to a river strong,
And I saw but one that wandered along
By its banks, to gather on every side
The wealth of fame for his manhood's pride.
From the halls of learning of ancient lore
He coined the wealth of mind in store,
And the world's bright laurels he gathers now,
To crown with honors his manly brow.
But where is she who strayed by his side,
Gathering treasures where the stream did glide
The same as he in their youthful hours,
Gathering gifts from nature's bowers.
Ah! the world has said the time has come,
When her sphere is only within her home;
That God had bestowed the treasures of earth
Upon only thise if mankind's birth.
That river of life with its jewels so fair,
Bringing wealth to the mind and the intellect rare
We're only a gift by that bountiful hand,
Intended, most surely, for none but the man.
Oh! Selfish man! when treasures by thee,
On that river of.life are gathered so free,
That you covet them all, and think they were made
By a partial hand at they feet to be laid.
