922 1 LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. MRS. MARY J. O. WHITING. BORN: NEW YORK CITY, AUG. 17, 1834. THE poems of Mrs. Whiting have appeared in the Union Signal, Daughters of America and various other publications. She was married in 1864 and resides in Belmond, Iowa. Mrs. Whiting is a great advocate of temperance, and is very popular in her adopted city. TO MY LAST TOOTH. Farewell; a last, a long farewell, my true my oft-tried friend; This life of ours we've spent as one comes to a sudden end. Through thick and thin, whate'er betide we've firmly held together; "Tis hard to break the tender ties, the loving cords to sever. 'Twas sixty years ago when you, a pearl of rarest beauty, First came to me to take your place and do a servant's duty. You did what all the world has done from generations old, You pushed your little brother out and left him in the cold. And you usurped the place he held, while to the dogs he went: It may be only just that you should after him be sent. You've served me well, stood firmly by, though you have grumbled sore, And I have firmly stood by you, and all your sharpness bore. How many times with aching pain my tongue has wagged its way, Because your cruel biting self forgot where duty lay. But that is passed, we'll let it go; it gives me greater pain To feel your leaving comes so hard, and we'll not meet again. But I'll not ask you to remain, your lot is sad and lone, And you're the last of all your set who've broke with you and gone; Then go my friend. It grieves me sore that the cruel steely clasp Must pinch your brittle, broken crown withits clinching grasp. A LOVER'S LAMENT. In the love of a maiden I once took delight, But where is the love I once knew? It has gone! It has gone! For alas, the fair maid, Like all of her kind, proved untrue. She said that her love for me would endure, Her words were spoke in jest I suppose, 924 LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. WILLIAM LEIGHTON, JR. BORN: CAMBRIDGE, MASS., JUNE 22, 1833. THIS gentleman has published several books, and is well and favorably known in the literary world. Two dramatic poems from his pen, The Sons of Godwin and At the Court of WILLIAM LEIGHTON, JR. King Edwin, are very fine; and a long poem entitled Change has been well and favorably received. He has also written several Shakesperian sketches and prose essays. Mr. Leighton was married in 1860 to Miss Mary Jane Reed, and is now living at Concord, Mass. THE FLOWERS. I see no use in them, quoth Peter Bell, and die In secret nooks, where not a human eye swell Of music in the flowers. Though no eye view In mystic verse of harmonies of God. MOTHER EARTH. Old mother earth, so great thy family, come. Lo, I, thy son, to thy maternity Make my appeal! Hast thou a mother's heart? Or art thou callous to thy offspring's cry? Hath summer's sunshine no beguiling art, To draw thy heart to all the host that cling To thee? Ah, mother earth, if thou dost know What joy the throbs of sweet affection bring, Thou can'st not then life's crowning bliss forego. THE SONS OF GODWIN. Life-a short day- an interval between Nothing and darkness-flitting consciousness, Vivid and startling as the lightning's flash; And like that blinding glare beholding all, But in an instant gone beyond recall. Death- a grim phantom ever haunting lifeThe night that swallows day-a frightful pause The black reverse of glory's shining shieldLife's opposite, whose emblem is the grave. Life, Death-the two conditions of one thing, Whose margins meet; - which is the normal state? Which real, and which the shadow?-which is health? And which disease? to-day we have the one, O Tostig! where thy valor now, thy strength, And I must meet my mother; her last words Ring in my ears; but louder than her words Fate called to him. He fell, as falls a starAcross the heavens a bright and gleaming track, Then quenched its light forever. So to me. My soul forewarns, will come the shaft of death. CLARENCE H. PEARSON. BORN: OSSIPEE, N.H., FEB. 21, 1859. THE subject of this sketch evinced a taste for literature at a very early age, and at fourteen published for one year an amateur journal. In 1882 he was for a time city editor of the Saginaw Herald. Subsequently Mr. Pearson was admitted to the bar, and in 1883 CLARENCE H. PEARSON. began the practice of his profession at Gladwin. In 1884 he was married to Miss Flora O. Biehn. Mr. Pearson has contributed to the Detroit Free Press, Drake's Magazine, Texas Siftings, and other prominent publications. Suffering much from rheumatism, Mr. Pearson removed to his old home at Laconia, N.H., where, as he has humorously remarked, he is dividing his time between law, literature and lumbago. PENSEE. They say the shades of those who pass Beloved of them of yore. They tell of wondrous secrets learned, Beyond the Stygian tide. I listen unbelieving still, For were thy spirits free To leave Death's realm, I know that thou Would'st sometime come to me: And hold some friendly token up To glad my yearning sight, Or clasp the hand I sadly stretch Into the empty night. LIFE'S GAME. We strolled across the moonlit fields, For hearts were trumps. But ere the trees bore fruit there came Of gold and silver muckle store. Maddened with grief I rashly strove I sacrificed at Bacchus' shrine. For clubs were trumps. Old Time and I sit vis-a-vis, Outside the winter's wind doth moan, No friend is near to aid or cheer And I must play my hand alone. The cards are dealt, the trump is turned, Grim reaper, thou the stake hast earned, For spades are trumps. LLORENTA. Thou wert a blossom beautiful and sweet That bloomed a space to glad our worldly sight, But envious angels thought it was not meet That earth should wear a flower so pure and bright [fleet And bore thee hence on voiceless wing and To deck the bosom of the Infinite. MY AUTOGRAPH. My autograph she begged the night Not just your name, you know, quoth she, A poem or a maxim trite. I yielded to the witching light She perches on my knee to-night, 926 LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA. JOHN VANCE CHENEY. BORN: DEC. 29, 1848. AETER teaching for a while Mr. Cheney entered a law-office, and was admitted to the bar a few years later. Ill-health compelled Mr. Cheney to visit the Pacific coast, where he now resides at San Francisco. He has published three volumes, The Old Doctor, ThistleDrift, and Wood Blooms, the first a prose work, and the latter two volumes in verse. He was married in 1876 to Miss Perkins, a handsome and brilliant lady who had just returned from a sojourn of six years in Europe - a graduate of the Royal Conservatory of Stuttgart. Mr. Cheney is an industrious man, and is librarian in the Free Library of his adopted city. I'd rather be MY CHOICE. 'Neath a greenwood tree, With a song and a handful of daisies, Than the darling of victory In the blaze of the wide world's praises. I'd rather ride On the wings inside, Which waft where the world may not after, Than fold fair Fame as a bride To feed on her sighs and her laughter. FANCY'S FLOCK. Fancy's flock in dreamy close, A DAY DREAM. 'Twas not 'neath spectral moon, Strange quiet folded 'round, Strange silence, close - profound; Sweet peace, sweet peace and deep, Bade every trouble sleep. "O spirit! stay with me, Lying all quietly; If this is death," I said, Be my lot with the dead." |