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A stately mansion on a hill
MRS. ANSELINA E. DWYER.
BORN: ENGLAND, OCT. 7, 1846. A Few of the poems of this lady have appeared in the Transcript of Lynn, Mass., in which city she now resides,
I'd have you her engagement break,
Viola, State of
March 27th, '775.
Sir,-I freely give
Your sincere friend
..Will, another star Shall guide my future, brighter far Than any I have ever known Save one, and that from heaven shone. This letter has revealed to me Your noble heart, and that it's free. So if on me, unworthy me, You would its tenderness bestow, I'll gladly give my heart to thee, You'll gently care for it I know." Again he clasped her to his breast And joyous rapturous kisses pressed To her sweet lips upturned to his As if to seal eternal bliss. While standing thus in close embrace, Her face upturned to meet his face, Some power seemed to bear away Her mind in which bright visions play,
MY WINDOW GARDEN. A tiny garden I possess, Hid in a window's deep recess; Grateful beneath the sun's caress Expands its leafy loveliness. And when the sun lights up the green, And quivering sbadows play between, The blossoms on my ivy screen Like dewdrops glisten in its sheen. My stately calla pearly crowned, No queenlier flower e'er was found And lesser beauties grouped around Rare fragrance, sweet, shed o'er the mound. A symbol in the passion vine I see, transfixed the Man Divine, The whips, the nails, the cords that twine Around his limbs, the halo's shine. And here in emerald velvet dressed Geraniums lift their scarlet crest; Pinks, fuschias, lilies 'mong the rest, And soulful pansies - loved the best. No florists' skill I boast, or know The names which science doth bestow; But knowledge greater far they show; God's loving care to all below.
TWO SHOULDERS AT THE WHEEL. Should you meet a troubled brother,
Then a kindred spirit feel; Heavy burdens might be lifted
With two shoulders at the wheel. Let him know you take an interest,
"Twill not take bim long to see Whether you're a true well-wisher
Or a shamming Pharisee.
When you'll lack both strength and zeal When perhaps you would be grateful
For one extra at your wheel.
Do not coolly walk away,
Some superior sort of clay.
And, with a sweet simplicity sublime,
time. The snake began to writhe and curl with
pleasure, And, in accordance with its snakish creed, It turned around (the fascinating treasure!) And stung its too-confiding .. Friend in
CHILDHOOD. In our childhood's springtime,
Basking in the glade, How we listened to the chime
Which the sweet bells made! Childhood, happy childhood!
Days that swiftly go!
HENRY M. DOWNING.
BORN: BOSTON, MASS., SEPT. 7, 1852. At the age of fourteen Henry went to sea and made three voyages to India, and next joined a steamship running from 'Frisco to Panama. For a time he was in the Indian service. For several years Mr. Downing was the marine
He saw a little cottage home,
A picture pure and fair,
Upon her knees in prayer.
His hand his bosom sought,
Some treasure forth he brought. He pressed it fondly to his lips,
His lips so pale and cold,
As down his cheeks they rolled.
She strikes - and all is o'er;
Upon the rocky shore.
The sun climbed up the eastern arch,
And shone with baleful glare,
The desolation there.
A cold and icy bed,
Death's horror and its dread Save one - a smile was on his lips,
Damp with death's clammy dew, And in his rigid band was clasped,
A little baby's shoe.
HDWIGHT BENJAMIN. BORN: HAMPSHIRE Co., Mass., DEC. 18, 1824. TAE poems of Mr. Benjamin have appeared in the Rochester Advent Harbinger, Portsmouth Republican and other papers. Mr. Benjamin occasionally preaches, but is by occupation a farmer. He resides at Lucasville,O.
HENRY MARLTON DOWNING. editor of the Boston Daily Post, and is now engaged in special work on the Boston Globe. He has written principally stories, and both his prose and verse have appeared in the leading publications of America. Mr. Downing was married in 1873 to Miss Sarah Thayer.
A BABY'S SHOE.
The ice made thick and fast,
Before the wintry blast.
And he at the helm lashed,
By the spray that o'er him dashed.
Approaching fast her doom,
Enshrouded in the gloom.
Nor felt the dashing spray,
His heart was far away.
THE RIGHT WAY.
To cheer you o'er the river.
From death we all sball soon be free,
And free from death forever.
. God loves the cheerful giver."
Then sin, no never, never. Then when you die most happy be, If pain affict you'll soon be free; Then free from sin, forever free,
Then free from death forever.
MRS. BERTA W. BOWEN.
BORN: VICTORIA, TEX., SEPT. 28, 1854. IN 1874 this lady was married to Walter C. Bowen, at that time editor of a weekly paper published at Oakville, Texas. In 1883 Mr. Bowen and his wife established the Cotulla Ledger, which they still own and control.
With white sails spread, I sent my fleet,
To bring me happiness complete. All, all were lost upon the main,
And prayer and tear alike are vain! And some went down 'neath fairest sky,
And many fathoms deep they lie. Some knew a darker, fiercer death,
Tossed on the waves by tempests' breath, Until the masts and sails all worn,
They on the cruel reefs were driven. And one — the fairest of the fleet,
Laden with youth and hope and love, I sent -- the sky was fair above,
And bright the sparkling waters 'neath. 0, coward heart, be brave, I cried,
No ill can this strong ship betide, But scarcely had it sailed away
Before a cloud o'ercast the day. I saw the angry tempest rise,
And lightnings flash along the skies, Then soon the muttering thunder rolled,
That danger to my ship foretold. And soon the billows, wild and dark,
Assailed my fair love-freighted bark, But scorning Neptune's proffered grave,
It triumphed long o'er wind and wave. At last upon a rock 'twas cast
0, heart! thy greatest loss is past! No other canst thou ever know
With half its bitterness and woe. Oh! sea, I cry, oh, cruel sea!
Return my treasures unto me! The bissing waters mock my moan,
As on the strand the wrecks are strewn. So standing by life's troubled main,
I watch and wait but all in vain,
To herald a coming ship to me.
Sorrow and loss were ever thine,
And thou shalt seek another shore, Where wreck and loss are known no more.
LOST AT SEA. Life's day hath lost its golden glow,
Adown life's west the sun is low, And soon into the great unknown,
My spirit barque must drift alone. It is not age -- age is not all,
Griefs blighting snow as beavy fall, And touched by sorrow's icy breath,
Life's flow'ret withers oft in death. I stand upon the wondrous strand,
Laved by the tide of vanished years, With aching heart and outstretched hands,
With crying strong and bitter tears. I plead unto the voiceless main,
To bring my treasures back again,
LIFE'S SADDEST LOSS. 0, heart of mine! why do you grieve, The shores of loss and time to leave; As our barque glides slowly out to sea, The great dark sea of eternity? Why backward turn with longing and tears? What have they brought you - those vanish
ed years? I remember well, how in sweet childhood, When I thought the world all pure and good, To you I said: How sweet is life! Ah! little we recked of its cruel strife! But we've learned since then, have not we, heart?
(to part We were young when first called with a hope