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Ere yet am
Triumphant climbs the dazzling height
A BRIER ROSE. Where stand the world's great sages, Is this the boon desired so much, Yet in that book takes most delight
This thorny rose we cannot touch, Where human hearts are pages.
But we are wounded for our pains, A soul completely purged from sin
Yet clasp it while the thorn remains? By God's all-cleansing fire,
For Love did once in Eden dwell,
Ere yet among the thorns it fel,
That now is but a brier rose
Amid the wilderness that grows.
No sweeter rose was ever seen; - From Paradise, a being bright,
But ah! ber thorns, how sharp and keen,
How deep they pierce, how long abide,
How closely in her beauty hide,
For every rose a thorn, a tear -
For Love is but a brier rose,
A thing of joy, beset with woes.
But ah! how rich and red and rare
Her roses are. Who would not dare
The wounding of her thorns to bear
This fairest earthly rose to wear!
For there is nothing sweeter here,
Tho' full of thorns and costing dear;
And it will bloom one day, be sure,
A brier rose no more, no more.
DADDY JIM. mountain; We passed the jutting crags and threatening
.Daddy Jim? Daddy Jim! are you deaf and
blind?” peaks; No pleasant grove was there, nor cooling
The boys are shouting it loud and clear; fountain,
But faintly it falls on the old man's ear, Nor rest, save that which high ambition seeks,
Like a muffled bell, that we hardly mind. Yet sweet companionship made labor lighter, Daddy Jim stood still, and he looked so good,
And obstacles surmounted trained the feet With his old hands crossed on his oaken staff, For fresh exertions, and the way grew brighter That the boys all stopped and forgot to Illumed by light that shone from Victory's
And gathered around where the old man stood. We stand together on the Mount of Vision,
.. Nay, boys, I am not deaf," said Daddy Jim, And now we know the path our feet have trod Has led to Duty's fields, not fields of Elysian,
. Though very faint and far your voices
sound, And far above us stretch the heights of God,
And I am not blind, though everything round But toward those regions pure we turn our
Is fading on my sight and getting dim. faces, Oh comrades! May our life-work, just begun, “I have gone so far on the wide, wide river, Though other hopes the hand of Time erases,
That the shores of earth are a melting view, Receive at last the crowning word: Well And the sounds that reach me are faint and done!
They'll come to me soon no more forever. MARIA LOUISE EVE.
.. But neither deaf nor blind is Daddy Jim, Born: AUGUSTA, GA.
When his name is called from the nearer
shore, The first literary success of Miss Eve was an !
Where the hearts that loved him are gone essay entitled Thoughts About Talking, which
before, received the prize of one hundred dollars offered by Scott's Monthly of Atlanta, and in
And there white hands beckon across to him. 1879 the poem Conquered at Last received a So I strain my eyes and ears no longer prize. The short poem of A Brier Rose also For the sights and sounds of that fading received a prize in 1889 from the Augusta
shore; Chronicle. Miss Eve hopes soon to publish a But I fix them full on the Land before, complete book of her poems.
| And every day they are getting stronger.”
R. FLETCHER GRAY, M. D.
Bors: BrowNSVILLE, PA., MAY 11, 1841. CxDER a nom de plume, Doctor Gray has for years contributed both prose and verse to the Journals of Boston, New York, Chicago and St. Louis, which have been read and admired.
THE ECHO OF A FALLING LEAF. Yellow and sere, so pale, so dead, Fluttering down on the brook's bare bed, It silently pleads, so I bear it home To explore its life's mysterious tome. But brief months since, 'twas an embryo Nestled so snug in its cell to grow --No botanist now can begin to tell Its transformation, ere it fell. Yet erst in life, it was fresh and fair; And, sporting free in the balmy air, It cared not one whit for sun and rain They made it all the brighter again. It quaffed the dew, reflected the light, Then, rocked to sleep in the cradle of
Night, 2woke, with Aurora, robed in green, And warbled the song of a fairy queen. While gazing upon this sycamore leaf, We touchingly ask, who is the thief That dares outrage, with ruffian hand, This foliage queen once great, so grand? In Luna's cycle, came Wod, by night From his crystal North, full frosted
white; And, gliding by, with his icy breath, He hushed this leaf in the sleep of death. It rests before me,- faded and gone;" Though dead, it pleads with a prophet's
tongue: The life whose breath inspires this line, Ere long will be as extinct as mine."
We all do fade as a leaf;" thus true Our Mother's Book speaks to me, to you;
The fading flower or leaflet's fall, But heralds the common lot of all." We all do fade? Ay, sweetly true, As the leaf are we, like the early dew:But sweeter thought; if brave and true, We simply fade to flourish anew.
Thou stoodst, the pillar'd form of Hope,
Who roused my will, but cooled my head, Whilst passions wild upon the lope,
Before this nobler impulse fled, I felt thy magnet draw me high,
Like staguant water by the sun; I felt I was not made to die,
But pour my life on every one. Thy flame electric, mild, I caught,
It works a chord which long has slept; Such aspiration in me wrought
That for the moment I was kept; Why did it pass, a fleeting cloud,
And leave my sun of passion hot, With all its former force endowed?
Oh, why should this have been my lot? When shall I rise and reign with thee,
Linked with thy finer frame of mind; Ay, rise and be from passion free,
And the angelic virtue find!
An angel in a nature new,
Bestowed upon the favored few.
Like dwellers in the spotless skies; But more like thee who by me stood,
When thy bright vision filled mine eyes; Then ever near thee I should stand,
And always feel thy warmth and light; And walking with thee hand in hand
Strew this sad earth with flowers bright. But oh! to know that I have felt
Such joys which have my nature tried; And made the dross within me melt,
But left the gold more purified !
Perhaps my vision may come true;
ALONZO A. ROWLEY.
BORN: CHICAGO, ILL., Jan. 17, 1848. MANY of the poems of Mr. Rowley have found their way from time to time into the local press. A pamphlet of Campaign Songs, containing about twenty poems from his pen, was published some years ago, which received quite a wide sale. He is at present a member of the bar in Beloit, Wisconsin, where he is well known as a lawyer, poet and scholar.
Thy helping hand to me was given,
Like love's bright messenger from heaven. I felt thy manly strength and worth
Which o'er my darkened pathway played, Like the sun's light shed on the earth, When, as of old, its course was stayed.
OUR RED, WHITE AND BLUE. On the banks of the Potomac
In a mansion so grand, Whose occupant threatens
To crush this fair land; He has joined in a league
With the whole British crew,
And floats a bandana
ELLA REGISTER INGLE. For the Red, White and Blue.
BORN: PRAIRIE CITY, IA., 1870. CH0.-- Hurrah! Hurrah!
ELLA's parents moved to Altoona, Iowa, when We're a party so true,
she was a child, and that city is still the place Three cheers for Protection,
of her residence. Her poems have appeared And the Red, White and Blue,
in the local press, and have received favorable When the monster Secession
THE VALE OF DESPAIR.
There lies a great vale amid the pleasures of And while - Little Philip"
life, To Winchester flew,
Its sky is ever cloudy, no sunshine there; He was plotting to ruin
There's nothing but loss and lasting strife, The Red, White and Blue.
And earth's weary souls given up in despair. And while he is covering
In this solemn vale fond hopes lie withered, Our veterans with slurs,
And deep flows the voiceless river of woe, He is toadying daily
Which glides with tears sweet fancy plumes, To the bold southerners;
All dark and drear at evening glow. And with their assistance
There the willow weeps o'er hearts that are Is trying anew
broken To trail in the dust,
And the thorns are all the garden flowers; The old Red, White and Blue.
Trouble lingers, and is a word oft spoken, We have matched this Goliah
That rings through the soul's enchanted With a brave Hoosier lad,
bowers. Who inherits the metal
Yes deeper and deeper grows life's dark cloud, Of his famous Grand-dad;
Full af terror and long unspeaking sorrow, And the genius that guided
Far from the guidance of the Master's hand Old Tippecanoe,
They can look ahead to no brighter morrow, Will conquer with Ben
No kind friend is waiting on that dismal shore And the Red, White and Blue.
To cheer them on their way with one tender
smile; LEONARD SHERMAN MILEY.
Where bright golden promises are lost everBORN: HOLMES CO., O., JULY 9, 1865.
more, MR. MILEY has received a good education, And not a wan sunbeam e'er lingers awhile. and is now engaged in teaching. He has but | But far from this vale are hearts filled with just commenced to court the muse.
With no seeming sorrow and with the tide EXTRACT.
They dwell beneath fair, sunny skies Had you ever thought of the like before?".
And bright hopes blooming on each side. You asked as we stood in the open door.
No silvery mist is hanging o'er this vale Indeed the decision was not of an hour
Clear is the way for weary barks to journey Since then I thought there's been many a
Time brings to view the hands torn and pale, My life for thee, 'twould make me sad
And the heart is silent given up in despair. Should I ever fail to make your heart glad;
Oh, Vale of Despair! for me thy gates are ever Many thoughts come up, but mercy dispel,
ajar, Freeze my spirit if I fail to act well.
And naught but darkness gleams from thy Ages could not efface one thought
glory; With such pleasant pleasures bought.
But away through the azure dome afar The fading leaves trembled and glowed,
Shines the light of an untold story. The moon a ray upon you throwed.
Weary soul, be content with thy lot, whate'er When passing by the remembered way,
it may be, We thought of those beneath the clay:
And use thy life as sweet song birds doDews from heaven were calmly falling--
To gladden the world while here you stay, Memory the tears from our eyes was calling. Then homeward fly when thy day is through. Night's daughter, morning, wrapped a wrap, Yes, homeward fly, where sorrows never come, Silent but sure was a new day's tap.
For all hopes are bright in the future, there: Rosy fingered morn painted the sky
Just keep striving, your joys to renew, - Good-by," and parted were you and I.
And never go down in this Vale of Despair.
JOHN A. WEBSTER. Born: PUTNAM CO., IND., JULY 9, 1863. AFTER graduating at Central college, Danville, Indiana, Mr. Webster taught school for five years, and entered upon a journalistic career in 1887, first publishing the Gazette in Golden, Kansas. In tbe same year he pur;
The stars to me were lamps of love,
The dewdrop one of God's tears.
So inviting seemed to be,
Whispered wonderful things to me.
To me it all seemed plain,
And the wicked have endless pain,
Memory is all that's left us now,
A vision is all time will allow.
With golden days without a tear;
And life's pathway again was dear. 'Twas then the light of sunny days,
Brought brighter beauties to our view, 'Twas then our feet were wont to stray,
Where taller, gayer flowers grew. The prize of life was then to win,
Our hearts and hands seemed strong, And our ears caught the far off din,
Echoing low the welcome song. But time has hurried us along,
To youth we bid a sad adieu, We enter college firm and strong,
And other beauties we pursue. Pleasant to us has been the work
Assigned by teachers dear; ..'Ever Onward” is our motto- to shirk
We have long learned to fear. Mathematics we've pondered hard,
Triangles right, obtuse, acute, Have taught us e'er to be on guard
Their sides or angles to compute.
Illud, amabamus studere,
Mistakes we have made, it is true,
Though these we always tried to shun; Errors -- mirabile dictu,
Were frequent, not always in fun.
The Sciences perfect, complete,
We've follow'd from flower to star, The Heaven, like a silver sheet, Its beauties to us has unbarred.
Thick by the roadside, blooming near,
Were the sweetest and gayest flowers, The hum of the bee, still I can hear,
Is it sped from bower to bower. Little I knew of the Heaven above,
Little of the earth's wide spbere;
The pebble now in beauty abounds:
The flowers new beauties impart; The world in harmony resounds
Its Maker, itself a counterpart.
How pleasant have been our school days
Within these dear and aged walls, We'll think of them on our journeys
As future years around us fall. Together we've walked life's pathway,
Culling flow'rs from Wisdom's garden fair, The summons to part we must obey, And with others our pleasures share.
ROSA WYATT. This lady has a prose work which she hopes soon to place upon the market. Her poems have appeared from time to time in the periodical press.
These cherished days are ended,
They are numbered with the past; Time, in his ever onward tread, Holds them forever in his grasp.
How oft we will think with pleasure
of the school room - our friendly ties, No clouds their luster can obscure, They'll dearer grow as in our minds they
rise. We've clambered gaily the hills of truth,
Hand in hand 'long the radiant way, To teachers, kind guardians of our youth, We bid a sad farewell to-day.
A hope is left us, a solace great,
To cheer our hearts of grief and pain, 'Tis this, as our pathways separate,
We part some time to meet again. Glad in strength of new found youth,
Glad in the thought of other days, We'll climb the coveted hills of truth,
And live again our happiest days. Deeper will grow our love of faith,
In things we're unable to prove, In a life that is free from death, And a power that works by love.
THE ANGEL'S MESSAGE. An angel came from Heaven one day,
Down through the realms of space, He sought a nearer view of earth,
It seemed a lovely place. » When he had reached the home of men
What anguish filled his heart! He saw 'twas sorrow, guilt and sin
Kept Heaven and earth apart.
Fell on his wondering sight,
Crushed 'neath the heel of might.
He knew 'twas caused by sin;
Sown in the hearts of men.
A wily subtle snare;
A maiden young and fair.
Before the face of truth;
Presented it to youth.
His angel heart o'erflowed;
To the great heart of God.
A gem of purest light;
Its christening name was Right.
Its glorious nature mold
Brighter than burnished gold.
With grief for sins of men,
Back to the earth again.
They knew its priceless worth;
Go bear it to the earth.
And keep it e'er in sight;
The precious name of Right.
The future is ours with hopes untold,
New fields of labor yet remain, New beauties in nature we'll behold
If . Onward and Upward " is our aim.
Time will bring some shadows, too,
Cares and pleasures that'll never fade, Life is a picture, old yet new,
A commingling of light and shade. But while the thoughts of other times
So bright, so free, we wander o'er, There comes a thought, in another clime We'll meet again to part no more.
By and by in a world that's new,
In a life that is all untried, We'll pluck with pleasure, glad and true,
Flowers eternal on the other side.
Teachers, friends, it is hard to leave
The place we have loved so well, But the hour has come when we must
breathe The parting words, farewell, farewell.