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CHARLES L. CLEAVELAND.
BORN: CANADA, FEB. 25, 1855. The poems of Mr. Cleaveland have appeared in the Atlantic Monthly, Chicago Daily InterOcean, News, Current and other papers of
SHE SPEAKS. How fair the moonbeams mild that shine Within the apple boughs, and twine With peaceful light the loving leaves! Hark, love, the whip-poor-will that grieves, Amid the bluff's secluded wood, For some lost thing not understood. Our little friend within the grass, The cricket, as we slowly pass, Gives us a cheerful roundelay That chases every doubt away.
A WILD FLOWER. Thou milk-white creature of May
White petals, and golden hearted What dreams of a vanished day
Hast thou in memory started! Thy sisters of long ago
Were sweet to their human brothers; And thou recallest the glow
Of a spring above all others. Ah, haply some careless wight
Shall look upon thee to-morrow, From a May day full of delight
That hideth no old-time sorrow; And thy kin of a future year
Shall meet him in sadder places; Then thou to his heart shalt appear
With earth's most heavenly graces!
CHARLES LORENZO CLEAVELAND. equal prominence, from which they have been copied by the periodical press. He is now a resident of Millbury, Mass., where he is well known.
STONE. Unlike all other shapes of carth that be They seem, in their uniqueness, to one's
thought To be with some ennobled passion fraught The rock's distinct and ancient chivalry!
A tender song I sing,
The glass is glittering.
A PINE WOOD'S SONNET. This is the inner circle of the pines;
Yet here within the sweet and ancient shade
The calls are heard of labor and of trade, The saw mill's whistle, as the sun declines, Breaks through this solitude; and certain
signs Mark where shrewd men have keen inspec
tion made Of these tall timbers, whose square feet
arrayed Made quick their blood, as though with mel
low wines. And while that brook, like a full artery, With silent force throbs through the wood
It seems the heart of Michigan beats here!
Joined unto knowledge deep and clear. Though never be the world complete, .
She holds the simple creed, good cheer, As much as is at life's command, To be the best for heart and hand.
No thought of method's countless names. The wakeful currents of the morning
Were flashing in our lusty frames.
BYRON T. KING. BORN: PORTLAND, ME, APRIL 15, 1836. COMMENCING life as a bundle boy in a dry goods store, young King soon became one of the brightest and most popular dry-goods clerk in his native city. In 1871 he went to Boston, where he beeame one of the highest salaried men in the trade. But he would see the world, and in 1875 he started on a trip around the world; in four years he had traveled in Africa, China, India, Japan and the continent
And the earth is pledged for payment
Every living man our brother;
Not to meet the law's behests,
We shall learn the art of living;
Not a game of idle chances;
l'p the rugged heights of time,
Every sad heart's broken bubble,
More firmness, less concession;
In the church and in the state;
More of love and less of passion -
From the chaff of error sifted,
Shall the world most clearly sce
Calls for boly self-denial,
Let it be the soul's endeavor
And in whatso'er we do,
To our highest sense of duty,
BYRON T. KING.
MRS. LAURA A. RANDALL. of Europe. In 1879 Mr. King returned to this BORN: INGHAM CO., Mich., MAY 7, 1847. country and settled down to business as a This lady was married in 1865 to Dr. C. L. successful dry-goods merchant in Springfield, Randall, and still resides in her native state Mo. He retired from that business in 1889, as at Dansville. Her poems have appeared quite the Scott Investment Company, one of the extensively in the local press. largest corporations in the southwest, of which he is vice-president and general man
FLOWERS. ager, requires the greater part of his time.
Another season is coming, Since 1868 various poems from the pen of Mr.
Swift passes the fleeting hours; King have appeared in the periodical press,
Coming with golden sunshine, and he has also contributed letters of travel
And its wealth of beautiful flowers. in Spain and Portugal and other countries.
As stars light the glorious heavens,
Flowers gem and beautify earth;
We thank the bountiful Giver,
For their fragrance, beauty and worth. Lies the secret source of being,
O flowers, sweet flowers in your brightness, And the soul, with truth agreeing,
Ye comfort and gladden our heart, Learns to live in thoughts and deeds; And help us along in our life work For the life is more than raiment,
To act nobler and better our part.
LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA.
JOHN SAMUEL LAFORTUNE.
Born: ELK CREEK, NEB., AUG. 22, 1862. EMIGRATING to California in 1875, Mr. La Fortune now resides at Tulare. At the age of twenty he became the associate-editor of a local paper, and from that time he has contri
The moon looks o'er the valleys, fair and
wide; And paints the verdure here in darker hue, And gilds the snowy mounts against the blue. 'Tis then the hour when loving eyes shine out, And Cupid smiles, and rosebud-lips do pout. Oh, California's hills and spangled bowers, Her singing birds and cool refreshing show
And o'er the flowery dells,
Fair Nature's pean swells.
Earth's fairest flowers gleam;
Contrast their glowing sheen.
The flocks roam by the lea;
From mountains to the sea.
Among the fruited trees.
Speed on the busy bees.
The river's sing their songs of praise,
The wooded banks prolong; buted poems more or less to the public press.
The echo of their roundelays In 1887 Mr. La Fortune became the editor and
Their simple, grateful song. proprietor of the Tulare Democratic Free Afar the mountain's fleecy crown Press. For nearly three years this journalist And robe of dazzling white, has been connected with staff of telegraphic On fields of waving grain look down correspondence of the leading papers of the With brilliant sparkling light. Pacific coast.
There miners break the stubborn earth
Beneath the mountain pine,
Or toil where sunlight ne'er had birth
Acity stands beside the sea,
The hills and valleys green.
There commerce threads its snowy wings The forests wake with bursts of matin song. Outreaching far and wide,
The wealth of foreign lands it brings Aurora gilds the stream, the field and plain,
On each recurring tide. And Ceres smiling walks the fields of grain.
0, land by many poets sung, At Eve when in the glorious golden west,
0, land by nature blest, The Sun has sunk behind the hills to rest;
How proud thy place, fair lands among, O'er the mountains like a blushing bride,
Bright daughter of the west.
KATHARINE J. MOORE.
BORN: BALTO, MD. One of the well-known local poets of southern Pennsylvania is Miss Kathie Moore. Although born in Maryland she claims Pennsylvania as her native state, her family locating there when Kathie was but a few months old. With the exception of two years and a half spent in
A gleaming of wide, white lilies,
A sail shining out like a star.
A land and a river serene -
A tangle of grasses between.
Forever it touches life's strand,
Dividing the water and land.
I CAN'T HELP IT.
But who minds cloudy weather?
And if I call that time most fair,
And wish that we again were there, traveling, the whole of her life has been
And if I fancy that she, too, passed quietly in the little valley city of
Deems that the gladdest day she knew, York, Pa. Miss Kathie graduated from the
Well - I can't help it! high school of that place in 1876, and for several years thereafter taught school. Later Ah, well! those days are past and gone Miss Moore took charge of The Kaleidoscope, Those days of perfect weather; a child's magazine. She is now engaged as
Our paths lie so remote.-could they editor of The Home Guard, and also is now
Have once been near together? the editor of The Fountain, a first-class month
But if I long, just once, to go ly magazine devoted to supplementary read
To where the cool north breezes blow, ing in the schools.
And if I long, just once, to see
That face grow bright with smiles for me,
Well - I can't help it!
There's a patter and a tapping on the pane,
And the music of a steady falling rain,
As it falleth,
On the earth so brown and bare,
Where in summer time the grasses grew A glinting of sunlight afar,
So green and high and fair.
JOHN LETCHER PATTERSON.
BORN: LEXINGTON, Ky., JUNE 10, 1862. GRADUATING at Harvard in 1883, Mr. Patterson later entered the profession of teaching, and is now principal of the high school at Ver
To palpitate in sweet alarm.
OVER A PICTURE.
TO A MOCKING BIRD.
When the slender shallop of the moon
Glides among the stars on the purple sea, sailles. Prof. Patterson has contributed quite Propelled by sails unseen and winds unknown, extensively some very fine poems to the lead Dashing softly earthward a silver spray, ing magazines, and hopes soon to issue a vo Wakeful thou art singing dreamily. lume of his productions.
All unbeautiful is now unseen
Beneath the silver-plating of the spray,
The white-robed Earth swings incense to her
And silent are the choristers for thee
To sing the solo of thy roundelay.
Poet-laureate of blossomed glace,
The interwoven notes of melody
Which loudly fill thy ruffled throat or fade,
And faint in tenderness from tree to tree
Were made for such a night, the night for
Fragrant almost is thy minstrelsy! [bliss-
I scarcely know which sense receives the
I hear it, smell it with the apple tree,
And even feel it with the breezes' kiss,
So all pervading is its tenderness.
And beautiful is each phantasy
Awakened by thy song - a prayer were true UNDER THE ASPENS.
Than any christian even sent on high, The minstrel wind's love-touch has made And peaceful calmness comes with thy adieu The gleaming bosom of the lake
As that pure orison transcends the blue.