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ROSA VERTNER JEFFREY.
BORN: NATCHEZ, Miss. HAVING lost ber mother in infancy, Rosa was adopted by her maternal aunt, Mrs. Vertner, by whose name she was known. Miss Vertner was married at seventeen to Claude M. John
son, Lexington. Although assuming at this | youthful age the domestic and maternal cares of life, she wrote incessantly, and her poems were readily accepted by prominent periodicals. Her first volume appeared in 1859; Woodburn, a novel of southern life, was brought out just at the beginning of the civil war: this was followed by Crimson
The gods and goddesses above
Heard him in silent wonder; Juno forgot to lecture Jove,
And Jove forgot to thunder; The sea-snakes beard and wagged their tails,
The porpoise burst with pleasure,
And found a perfect measure;
And strewed his path with corals;
Cast down their watery laurels; The trees picked up their trunks and swayed
About in measures mazy:
In waltzes wild and crazy.
Throughout creation ringing,
Still echoes his sweet singing.
The day they were united;
And Pluto's realm delighted
I never have forgiven
Before he searched through heaven. 'Twas like a man to go there first,
And scarcely worth remarking, But Tantalus forgot his thirst
And Cerberus ceased barking. Things without motion swayed about
While Ixion's wheel stopped turning; The fire was stirred, but not put out,
And Orpheus left it burning. The vulture even forgot to prey
While listening to that lyre:
Might show a like desire.
Our modern science merits,
When they're possessed by spirits.
That modern quartz are leaking, And that the fiery hearts of fints With vinous streams are reeking.
MRS. ROSA VERTNER JEFFREY. Hand, Daisy Dare, with other shorter poems. Alexander Jeffrey, the present husband of the subject of this sketch, is a gentleman of Scotch descent, with whom she lives quietly at her home in Lexington. Through all the varied experiences of later life, not untouched by sorrow and suffering, she is gentle and patient; and George D. Prentice speaks none too highly of her, when he beautifully says:
And thou hast that strange gift The gift of genius, high and proud and strong, At whose behest thoughts beautiful and swift
Around thee throng."
Let modern humbug still increase:
I fling with fierce defiance
At prosy modern science.
Did cause the stones to frolic,
And nature's alcoholic!
Thy purple glories flicker,
Press rocks for stronger liquor.
GRECIAN POETRY vs. MODERN SCIENCE. There dwelt a youth in ancient Thrace,
Whose voice and lyre entrancing Bewitched with song the buman race, And set creation dancing.
One prayer thrice heavenward drifted
To Him who never spurned The lisp of lips, where laughter
Fading away in prayer, Leaves holy twilight after
A noon of gladness there. Three little beads, all sunny,
To pillow and bless at night, Riotous Alick and Dunnie,
Jinnie, so bonnie and bright! Three souls immortal slumber,
Crowned by that golden hair. When Christ his flock shall number,
Will all my lambs be there?
I bow my head and pray,
Suffer them not to stray.'
Over life's stormy tide, Treasures I bring - Immortal; Saviour, be thou my guide,
BABY POWER. Six little feet to cover,
Six little hands to fill, Tumbling out in the clover,
Stumbling over the sill;
Six little shoes half worn,
Skirts, shirts, and aprons torn!
Heedless of bites and stings, Walls and furniture scratching,
Twisting off buttons and strings. Into the sugar and flour,
Into the salt and meal, Their royal baby power,
All through the house we feel! Behind the big stove creeping,
To steal the kindling-wood; Into the cupboard peeping,
To hunt for somesin dood." The dogs they tease to snarling,
The chickens know no rest, Yet the old nurse calls them - darling,"
And loves each one the best." Smearing each other's faces
With smut or blacking-brush, To forbidden things and places
Always making a rush. Over a chair or table
They'll fight, and kiss again
Or cruel, wicked Cain.
On sunny days in-doors,
To rush out when it pours. A raid on Grandma making,
In spite her nice new cap,
While riding on her lap.
Prattling the livelong day,
Hazel, and blue, and gray.Hazel with heart-light sparkling,
Too happy, we trust, to fade -Blue 'neath long lashes darkling,
Like violets in the shade. Gray, full of earnest meaning,
A dawning light so fair; Of woman's life beginning,
We dread the noon-tide glare Of earthly strife and passion,
May spoil its tender glow, Change its celestial fashion,
As earth-stains change the snow! Six little clasped hands lifted,
Three white brows upward turned,
EMILY ELIZA HILDRETH.
BORN; CHELSEA, MASS., MAY 25, 1839. Miss HILDRETH has been an invalid for a number of years, and is now living in the quiet country town of Harvard, Mass. Her poems have been published from time to time in many periodicals of prominence.
NEW YEAR'S EVE. Hark, 'tis the chime of the midnight bell, Resounding far over hill and dell, Just to remind us, that to-day Has passed forever from us away. Nothing strange - yet each stroke brings So many thoughts of so many things; For the year is dying with the day, And the Past is gone, -- forever and aye. What does the year carry forth for me, To the wide embrace of Eternity? What does it take from my life away? --- Not one thing, surely, that ought to stay.
Last year's green lies under the snow:-
As they wink in the distant blue, And I could be content with all,
If I but life's mystery knew.
BORN: TIFFIN, O., JUNE 18, 1860. WAEN nine years of age Mabel removed to Toledo, Ohio, where her father died in the same year. Ten years later she graduated, subsequently teaching Latin and universal history for several years. In 1887 Miss Cronise went to Europe, and wrote letters from there for various papers. She now is on the editor
LEGEND OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. Sweetest of all the traditions
Burgundian annals hold, Is one of the royal banner,
With its lilies white and gold. Burgundian monks and writers,
Still the legend quaint repeat, Of Clovi's dauntless and daring,
And Clotilda fair and sweet. This prayer before her altar
Clotilda offered each day: .. Oh Christ, appear to my husband,
Show him the Truth and the Way! . He worships his heathen idols,
Is blind to Thy love divine; On his darkened, inner vision
Let Thy endless goodness shine!” Months grew into years, but Clovis
Still bowed to his idols cold, Scorning the Monarch of nations,
Adoring his gods of gold! One day in a fateful battle
The Huns made a deadly raid,
And his martial glory fade!
On ev'ry side was the foe
Advance meant ruin and woe!
In vain implored be their aid,
To check the terrible raid.
He rallied his troops that day,. Will you let our nation perish?
Charge on that savage array!" Repulsed by myriad lances,
Forced back through heaps of the slain, Wounded, defeated and helpless
He cried in his bitter pain: « Oh Christ whom the greatest worship,
Oh Christ of mercy and love, Declare Thy marvelous goodness,
Send aid to me from above! · The human is weak and erring,
I have not seen Thee aright, Grant to me a clearer vision,
Give to me the inner sight! . I feel Thou art pure and holy,
In carnate mercy and right. Invisible pow'r and splendor, Ruler of darkness and light! Avenge me of my aggressors,
Thy glance can put them to flight, Speak! and their legions shall vanish
In the breath of Thy own might!"
Still over a tranquil nation
The beauteous lilies wave,
Whose arm is mighty to save.
The pledge of old ye renew, For Christ was the Rose of Sharon,
But the Valley's Lily too!
ROBERT D. DODGE. BORN: WARREN Co., ILL., DEC. 16, 1838. MR. DODGE has written poems for the press more or less for the past twenty-five years, many of which have received favorable mention. He now resides near Adel, Iowa, on a fruit and seed farm.
Lo! as he breathed this petition,
Halted the Huns in affright
Dashed on with resistless might! Thousands were conquered by hundreds,
For Christ nerved his hand that day, And Burgundy's blood-stained banner
Waved high in the deadly array.
Oh wife, thy God shall be mine,
His wondrous beauty I see.
I pledge to Thee service true, Omnipotence, might and grandeur,
Thy mercy falleth like dew! . Long suffering, kind and patient,
Thy promise never shall fail,
My Sov'reign Divine I hail!"
As he breathed his solemn vow,
Hath gilded that banner now! A voice of surpassing sweetness
Speaks low to the startled king,
The truth eternal you see,
On both of you henceforth be!
On its field of azure blue, Celestial lilies I give you,
I bring you a banner new! - Transcendently fair and holy,
Be pure as these flow'rs divine, Be worthy to bear My emblem,
Be worthy too, to be Mine!" A vision sweet and surprising
The astonished monarchs see: The blood-stained banner grows spotless
And blossoms with fleur-de-lis. Three lilies stately and noble,
Power and comfort and love, Type of the Tri-une God-head,
The Father, the Son, the Dove! In awe they knelt by the lilies
And worshiped the Christ of LoveWho is king of all earth's nations,
And king of the worlds above!
MIDNIGHT REVERIE, Dimly the languid planets glow, Softly the dewy night winds blow, Bearing perfume of leaf and flower And dreamy sounds of midnight hour, Whiie over all a mystic pall Of gath'ring shadows rise and fall; Fantastic shapes before my sight Come for a moment then take flight. How sights and sounds of nature seem, Now strangely mingling with my dream; What mystic raptures do contend, How earth and ether seem to blend, When sounds of earth to dreamland soar And faintly echo on the shore, I hear them now, the watch-dog's moan, The chicken's long-drawn plaintive tone, The little night-bug's tuneful strain, Like to fall of a gentle rain. Going --- not gone, I hear them still Calling in turn from hill to hill; The stars sink deeper in the sky, The blending shadows hover nigh, At last oblivion's veil is drawn, And dog and bug and cbicken gone.
A PEEP INTO THE FUTURE. Now all aboard the Edison lightning train Of flying cars that cleave the starry main. We scorn the steam-car's crawling snail like
pace: The storm cloud, too, makes such a sorry race, It seems to turn and fly the other way, As we pass by and swiftly onward stray. Away we fly athwart the sky, and soon We leave behind the failing earth and moon; The affrighted sun darts from his proper
place, The flaming stars fly backward into space; At last when past the farthest world we fly. We dash and flatten 'gainst th' all bounding
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
BORS: JOHNSTOWN, Wis., ABOUT 1850. WREN thirteen years of age, Ella first began to write poetry, but it was many years before she received any financial return for these early efforts. Poems of Passion at once brought her into prominence, and she is now in receipt of a
How poor that love that needeth word or mes
sage, To banish doubt or nourish tenderness.
Days will grow cold, and moons wax old,
And then a heart that's true
And so my love, adieu!
I cannot wed with you.
Rejoice, and men will seek you:
Be sad, and you lose them all.
Your head like the golden-rod,
Waste no tears
THE LEGEND OF THE STORKS AND
The realm where the dear little darlings stay Till the kind storks go, as all men know,
And 0 so tenderly bring them away?
By all save the storks, who understand
by-ways That lead to Babyland. The path to the Valley of Babyland
Only the kind white storks know. If they fly over mountains, or wade through
fountains. No man sees them come or go.
Hearts are much the same;
They find no new expressions for the flame.
you | On wastes of water or desert plain.
But an angel, maybe, who guards some baby,
Or a fairy, perhaps, with her magic wand, Brings them straightway to the wonderful
gateway That leads to Babyland. All over the Valley of Babyland Sweet flowers bloom in the soft green moss; And under the ferns fair, and under the leaves
there Lie little heads like spools of floss.