And prison walls, have slain in the name Whose mind is fettered with stale ignorance, And there behold the brilliant minds on fire, The loathsome, bloated, reeling human form That hold those minds, and hear the frenzied oaths, The kicks, the cuffs, the midnight pistol shots, From this revolting scene of loathsome filth To those who ever wait in utter darkness, Shut up in prisons, dark and damp and cold, Brush from thy robes the vile corroding dust Of dead men's bones already rotten- Arising from the wasted, stagnant blood Of honest men. Wash well thy bloody hands at nature's fount And cleanse the inner temple of thy throne With the bright glowing fires of human rights. Then hie away to the beautiful hills of God, And there behold the progeny of all below thy race, Feeding on living pastures bright and green, And lain away for future use The holy principles of justice, love and truth, At which the world still scoffs and wags its head And spits upon and crowns with thorns, And still proclaim the truth, and truth alone Cast off thy monarch crown of shining gold And bow before the throne of human rights And there confess thy sins. Show to mankind That he who'd save the world must save him self By living out his own, his innate laws, LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. REV. DRYDEN WM. PHELPS. BORN: NEW HAVEN, CONN., MARCH 16, 1854. AFTER graduating at the Hopkins grammar school in his native city, Dryden passed one year in Yale college, and three in Brown university, graduating at the latter institution in. 1877. The three years following he was assistant editor of the Christian Secretary, when he entered the Hartford theological seminary, in which he spent two years. In REV. DRYDEN WM. PHELPS. 1887 he was ordained as pastor of the Baptist church in Wilmington, Vt., a position that terminated in 1889. The poems of the Rev. D. W. Phelps have appeared in the Christian Secretary, the World's Crisis, Vermont Phoenix, Our Home Guards, and other journals of prominence. In person he is a little above the average height, yet he weighs about 180 pounds, and is a very pleasant and intellectual gentleman. THOUGHTS AT THE WATER-SIDE. Look at the bright blue sea, Think of thy Father's care; O look to Him in prayer. He calleth thee to-day, Then shalt thou joyful look TO THE MOURNER. 173 In hours of grief, oppressed with tribulation, When storms beat sore within the troubled breast, How sweet to know the author of salvation Said: Come to me, and I will give you rest." Those words attend, O mourner sad and lonely; Our Lord on earth was often lone and sad. When loved ones sleep, the thought of Jesus only Can dry our tears and bid the heart be glad. The day draws nigh-- how joyous the reflection! -- When Christ shall come, descending from above. The Lord Himself, our life and resurrection, Shall crown us His whom now unseen we love. THE LIGHTS OF THE EARTH. Sun, thou king of day who sendest light to our dwelling, O how grand thou appearest at noon in fiery splendor! Who can stand thy glare? 'tis not poor earthholden mortals; No, thy blinding gaze o'ercomes short-sighted vision. Thou art a work of God, and manifestest this splendor. "Tis no wonder that people of old, not knowing their Maker, Should have worshiped thee, and paid their devout adoration Which belonged to God, to thee this horrible emblem! Moon, thou queen of the night, of the sun a poor imitation, Where would be thy light if the sun did not freely bestow it? Yet thou art gentler far than the hot burning day-king who lights thee, And we love thy beautiful gentleness, pride of the evening! Stars, ye jewels who deck the lovely expanse of the heavens When the moon has come to whisper of love and the angels, Yes, we love ye the best, O bright magnificent gold drops! And in ye the most can we praise the Eternal Creator. 174 LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. BIRCH ARNOLD. BORN: DELAVAN, WIS. BIRCH ARNOLD is the author of Until the Day Break, an essentially American novel, which has been very favorably received. Her poems have appeared in the leading periodicals of BIRCH ARNOLD. America. This lady is a gifted conversationalist, a graceful elocutionist, and ably renders selections from her writings in a very pleasing manner. She now resides in Armada, Michigan. FORGETFULNESS. If, in the viewless haunts of time, And bitter meaning in it's eyes; Though sorrow makes the sunshine less, THE ROUND OF BLUE. Oh, Maude, sweet Maude, with your golden hair, Your witching eyes, and your winsome air - I have watched your taper fingers, white- At first my eyes you sought to chain I do not ask, sweet Maude, to be If the fairy chain is woven strong, 64 A WIND-BLOWN SOUL. In present griefs, the joys of yesterday." I can no longer bear in silence, And found my soul the potter's clay. JAMES NESTOR GALLAGHER BORN: CONCORD, N. H., JULY 5, 1848. FOR the past fifteen years the pen of Mr. Gallagher has been engaged more or less in literary work. His new work, Let 'er Go Gal JAMES NESTOR GALLAGHER. lagher, which is a book of poetry and prose combined, has had an extensive sale from Maine to California. Mr. Gallagher now resides with his wife in San Antonio, Texas. GOT LEFT HIMSELF. And warming o'er the thoughts of yore, And spread anew, in borrowed hue, Alas, the time that's spent in rhyme But little fame-which many claim- A silly bard once musing hard, And missed the freight a minute late So jingle not 'less flaming hot, Ye fire-bugs of the brain, For if you do, like him you'll rueHello! I've missed the train! THE COUNTRY EDITOR. Manipulating rural type, He sits behind his shears and pipe To advertisers he will state His circulation's vastly great; Then caring not for clique or clan, He circulates, a solid man. To indicate the mind's behest Of language he is well possessed, Still withal he typifies Every good beneath the skies, GOLD. An impress of satanic mold By thee, alas! are bought and sold; BE YE HARD TO GET. The curliest of curls 176 LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. GEORGE DUDLEY DODGE, BORN: HAMPTON FALLS, N. H., MAY 4, 1836. GRADUATING from the academy of his native village, George entered Brown university in 1853. He has always resided in his native place, with the exception of three years while in trade in the state of Georgia, just before and during the war. Since that time Mr. Dodge has been engaged in cotton manufacture, and as country merchant and postmaster, until compelled by ill-health to seek the larger liber GEORGE DUDLEY DODGE. ty of farm life. In 1880 he was the nominee of the prohibition party for governor; afterward chairman of the state executive committee, and chosen a delegate to the national convention of that party in 1884. As a writer, Mr. Dodge is best known through his prose contributions to the press, although his poems have been widely copied and favorably commented upon. Mr. Dodge comes from old stock, dating back to the sixteenth century. THE FADED LEAF. Silently, softly, the faded leaf, Downward flits to the earth beneath, Or roughly whirled by wintry blast, In far off nook alights at last. Its duty done, its season past, TEMPTED AND TRIED. O kindest Father, friend and God, O wond'rous three that one combine. Let ev'ry stormy wind that blows, PEACE BE STILL. Tempest tost on the billows of life, Peace be still, O weeping soul, I will all thy grief console. Hope would vanish and the giant Despair, Would drag my soul to his dreadful lair, But for the voice of tender love, Speaking to me from heaven above, Peace be still, O trembling soul, I will ev'ry foe control. Let the tempest roar and the billows roll, Naught shall disturb my peaceful soul, While come to me from heaven above, These cheering words of tender love, Peace be still, O trusting soul, I will ev'ry storm control. God help poor souls in the voyage of life, Weary and worn with struggle and strife, Who hear no voice of tender love, Speaking to them from heaven above, Peace be still, O weary soul, I will all thy grief console. |