LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. DAVID NEWTON ASHMORE. BORN: BELLEVILLE, ILL., JULY 21, 1851. MR. ASHMORE has written poems more or less from an early age, many of which have ap DAVID NEWTON ASHMORE. peared from time to time in the local press. In person he is rather tall but of good stature. BETHANY. You may talk about your cities, In our grand old Illinois, You may talk about your cities, You may talk about your ladies, 1 With their bonnets and their trimming; But our ladies, though a trifle plain, Are the best I've ever found, And we're noted for the female beauties Of our good old-fashioned town. You may talk about your children O, those cute and cunning cases, And smooth down their golden hair And kiss their sweet and dimpled faces; But our town is all a swarming, And its streets are just teaming, With the finest, loveliest children, And our features, fairly gleaming. You may talk about your cities And I'd rather muse around And us poor would run aground You may talk about your cities, To admit, I'd rather live, In the good old town of Bethany; And I've sort o' settled down POVERTY. O poverty! it seems that fate O poverty! thou fiend accurst, 137 138 LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. MAN LIKE THE MOON. Oh the beautiful moon with its borrowed light! The brilliant moon, the queen of the night! Beaming so proudly, yet softly the ray, Lent her so kindly by the great king of day. The beautiful moon reminds us of men, That are borrowing their light from one that can lend. [to shine, They are groping in darkness, endeavoring By reflecting the brightness of light that's divine. Like the moon, so the man, in splendor arrayed; His light is another's, his fullness shall fade. And back in the darkness he will pass very [moon. To wait for his change like the beautiful soon ALBERT LEWIS ABBOTT. BORN: FRANKLIN CO., IND., JUNE 2, 1849. MR. ABBOTT commenced writing at an early age, and his poems have appeared from time to time in numerous publications. In person he is a little above the average height, and is a well built man. He generally follows the occupation of a farmer. Mr. Abbott hopes soon to publish a work entitled Lyrics of Liberty, a book of poems founded on fact. POVERTY AND DEBT. This world is full of sorrow, Though some in errors stumble, Ill luck the way beset; Few things make folks more humble Than poverty and debt. Rich people with fine mansions, And wealth of gold secure, With fields of broad expansions, But God, who knows our weakness, And never will forsake us, The Lord will answer prayer. When grief our eyes do wet, THE WARRIORS' EPITAPH. Here, in their narrow earthen bed, Lay our lamented federal dead. Veneration to them we give; As Christ: they died that we might live. Portray real dictates of our heart; With reverence and love divine, We hang bright garlands o'er their shrine, Above this hallowed, sacred sod; Where amaranths are the smiles of God. LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. JACOB HUFF. BORN: CHATHAM RUN, PA., JAN. 31, 1853. JACOB HUFF'S writings generally appear under the nom de plume of Faraway Moses. At an early age he was employed in the lumber woods of Pennsylvania. Mr. Huff has written numerous humorous sketches and serial JACOB HUFF. stories, in which he is at present engaged. Both his verse and prose have appeared from time to time in the Detroit Free Press, Pittsburgh Post, Henry George's Standard, and other equally prominent journals. IF WE KNEW. No one knows the secret sighing,- 139 I love these bare, bald hills, But better than all to me, Is to always live and be Oh, what is wealth and fame? If from my friends I'm removed? Give me my cot on the hill, And the song of the whip-poor-will, THE WARNING. Before the glass I stood this morning A silvered strand of hirsute thread. God in Heaven! I'm growing old! Then I noticed the crow-foot wrinkles Deeply indented around each eye, [twinkles And tears of regret down my sad face While thinking how soon I must surely die. I smooth out the wrinkles with careful fingers, [grows cold; And pluck out gray hair while my heart For, oh! that terrible thought still lingersGod in Heaven! I'm growing old! Oh, this stern fiat of nature Under which all mortals lie! Suspended over every creature Hangs this sentence - all must die! Execution day draws nearer, And each gray hair I behold Speaks of death and graveyards dreary Oh! my God, I'm growing old! Soon these hands will cease their labor, Flesh and bone and heart decay. Half of which has ne'er been told; For the dead send back no history To poor mortals growing old. EXTRACT. Take away those little dresses, 140 LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. JOHN J. MCGIRR. BORN: YOUNGSTOWN, PA., MARCH 13, 1855. THE principal work of Mr. McGirr is the Destruction of the World, a poem which was published in 1886. Although comparatively unknown as yet, he is a poet of no mean ability. His conceptions are lofty - his language JOHN J. M'GIRR. clear and musical. This work also contains various other shorter poems that have been well received. Mr. McGirr is a newspaper editor by profession, and now resides in McKeesport, Pa. AVE MARIA. Ave Maria! the evening shadows fall; on; Ave Sanctissima! guard us till the dawn. Star of life's stormy sea, hear our humble prayer, And when the tempests rise, save us from despair. Guide our wand'ring footsteps through this world aright: Safely through the darkness upward to the light. Ave Sanctissima! hear our earnest cry! THE AUTUMN EVENING. In moaning winds and sunset gray; Hushed and sad and silently. The gray squirrel from his dizzy height Now just above the western hills, The dark clouds part, and sunlight fills The forest, and the saddened scene Is glorified in the golden sheen So, sweetly on my saddened life, DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD. And now the lightning, as a storm of rain plain: The cowering millions kneeling on the ground, sight. Oh, God of mercy! listen to that cry,- low, And thus cut short their agonies and woe. The earth in places ope's in fissures deep, Then a faint moaning, which in silence dies. WOMAN'S TEARS. More powerful than the sword or pen, LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. MRS. CONSTANCE RUNCIE. BORN: INDIANAPOLIS, IND., JAN. 15, 1836. CONSTANCE studied in Germany for six years, and upon her return to America, at the age of twenty-five, she was married to the Rev. James Runcie, D. D. Mrs. Runcie has led a life of wonderful mental activity, and at an early age began to compose music. Her great MRS. CONSTANCE FAUNT LE ROY RUNCIE. est success in prose literature was Divinely Led, a work which attained a wide popularity. and was repeatedly quoted from by press and pulpit. In 1888 Poems Dramatic and Lyric appeared, which met with still more gratifying success. In person Mrs. Constance Faunt LeRoy Runcie is very petite. MEMORY'S PICTURE. My love came through the door, and lo! So purely simple, seemed to glow Her dress was black, and made of gauze, The crimson flowers at her throat Except her eyes, which shone above She held within her graceful hands 141 Her hat, which, hanging down, She was a picture standing there, I would have fallen at her feet, I in my very soul and heart, As coming through the door that night BROKEN FRIENDSHIP. I send no greeting; I do not even feel A troubled dream which flies before the day. There comes, at last, an end Of what one ought to suffer for a friend. It then becomes ignoble - self-abase,Not sacrifice pure - holy - full of grace. I suffered much where now I cannot feel; I do not still pretend a friendly zeal |