671

MRS. ELIZABETH SMITH.

BORN: ENGLAND, OCT. 5, 1853. FOR the past twenty years this lady has lived in the western states, and is now located at Lead City, Dakota. She is a great worker in

MRS. ELIZABETH SMITH. the cause of temperance. She was married in 1879 to S. R. Smith, who is engaged in the furniture business. The poems of Mrs. Smith have appeared extensively in the newspapers of Dakota, Minnesota, and Kansas.

D'ISRAELI.

Thou art gone, and in all thy greatness;
Measures thy tomb no more in space
Than will the form of your poor churl,
When laid in its last resting place?
Is it true that massive brain

That wrought such power and will,
Has ceased to work, and never again
Shall prove its master skill?

It seems hard these truths to feel. Well may we mourn thee, noble dead! Not England's court alone;

But wherever the Hebrew foot hath trod, Will be heard in anguish a sigh, a moan; For as they watched, with kindred pride, Thy star in its glory ascend

So, in a kindred sorrow,

They weep for a kindred friend.

Years roll on, but the world will miss

Thee more, as one by one we see Men who may aim to reach thy height, Sink into obscurity.

And from the stillness of the tomb

Shall speak thy voice in tones as grand, A hundred years hence,

When other forms shall fill this land.
Sweet peace be thine, D'Israeli,

Thou hast nobly earned thy rest
By hard won battles bravely fought-
And God knoweth what is best;
The grandest tribute earth can bear
For mortal man be thine,

And for thy soul, we ask in prayer,
A glory not measured by time.

With thoughts like these, my steps first stray

To Minnehaha's quiet glade.

And now thy silvery laugh I hear,

Thy frost-like foam is very near;

I doubt the half was ever told,

For tongue could scarce the half unfold,

Nor pen, nor brain, nor artist's eye

Catch all thy beauty grand and high.
And now I walk where years ago
Dusky forms passed to and fro,
And dusky feet were wont to tread
All these paths around me spread
Soft and cool, thy shade to-day
Greets other faces - bright and gay.
Fear, if e'er it found a place
Hath vanished leaving not a trace
Within the heart, and children play
Upon thy banks, so glad to-day.
In thy foam I seem to see
Lives of living purity,

With under-currents strong and deep,
That never tire, yet never sleep,
That ruffled by some added stone,
Flows on like thee with whiter foam.
Again thy waters dark beneath,
Like troubled lives that groan and seethe
Flow on more still, and naught is heard,
Save low complaints from some lone bird.
Minnehaha, in years gone by,
Couldst thou speak of love and joy?
Couldst tell of gladness? ere the day
That saw thy first-loved turned away?
I marvel not that tears and blood
Were shed in plenty, ere they stood
With faces turned to bid adieu

To these loved haunts but most to you.
For in their hearts they love as we,
The scenes of their nativity.

672

MRS. JANE K. GANONG.

BORN: CARMEL, N.Y., AUG. 26, 1835. THE poems of this lady have appeared in the local press of her native state, where she still resides at Crafts. Mrs. Jane Ganong has two

MRS. JANE K. GANONG.

daughters and a son, and now resides on a farm with her husband and son-her two daughters having married and secured homes of their own.

TO A DAISY.

Pretty little summer flower,
Growing wild by cot and tower,
Nestling, too, within my bower.

Dotting field and lane and way,
From early morn 'til evening gray,
Cheering yon traveler on his way.

Tall and slim and graceful, too;
With petals white as drifting snow,
You bend and nod when winds do blow.

You're growing, blooming everywhere,
Though no fragrance fills the air,
Like blushing rose or lily fair.

Few leaves adorn thy slender stem,

Thy head of gold like monarch's gem, Or royal princess' diadem.

O, thou'rt fair to look upon,

Thy upturned face aye greets the sun,
Thy beauty man's praise oft hath won.
For weeks and months thou'lt blossom now,
And nod and bend when winds do blow,
With hue of gold and drifting snow.
Oft you're plucked and worn away
By handsome youth or lady gay;
And sometimes on a grave you lay.

Thus your mission you fulfill,

And grandly do your Maker's will,
Mortals teaching lessons still.

Men in passing to and fro,

Wondering, ask what made you grow

So pretty, this, God made you so.

TO MY LITTLE GRANDSON.

ACROSTIC.

Choicest treasures earth can give be laid at thy young feet;

Heaven grant thy days on earth to be with happiness replete.

All along life's rugged road may wisdom lead

the way,

Under shadow of God's wings may you securely dwell each day;

No evil thing thy pathway tread, thy mother's faith be thine,

Contentment spread for thee her board, thy heart to good incline;

Earth's fairest flowers be plucked by thee, life's rose without a thorn

Yield fragrance sweet to cheer thee on, till dewy eve from morn.

Cheery, sunny little lad, thy blue eyes mildly beaming,

O, what a world of light and love is in thy pathway teeming.

Bursting manhood waits thy coming-let angels bright have care,

Until you reach the heavenly portal, no sin can enter there

'Round thee evermore be thrown thy heavenly

Father's love,

Naught of earth or earthly joys can compare

with those above.

A SPARK IN THE ASHES.

I went to a gay reception,

Last winter in the West,

As the beau of the belle of the season,
Quite out of the season dressed.

For they told her no queen in story
Had a bust so blanche and fair:

And, like Samson, her strength and glory
Was all in her wondrous hair.

But I did not think of her tresses,
For directly vis-a-vis,

A dame in the simplest of dresses
Was flashing her eyes at me.

Eternal eyes of wonder!

How gloriously they rolled,
Like two black storm-lakes under
An autumn forest of gold.
For as Lilith's in her splendor

Like an aureole gleamed her head,
And a magic, strange yet tender,
Seemed winding in every thread.
Wavy and dreamy in motion

I felt the old memory flow; We had met by the sun-gold ocean A thousand years ago!

And the beaux and the belles with their graces,

Where were they on the ancient shore? Oh, the sea had blown forth in our faces A thousand years before. Sea-foam and weeds and clam-shells Which slid in the waves' long rolls! Gay gentlemen- beautiful damsels! Why, how did you come by those souls?

A THOUSAND YEARS AGO.

Thou and I in spirit-land,

A thousand years ago,

Watched the waves beat on the strand, Ceaseless ebb and flow;

Vowed to love and ever love

A thousand years ago.

Thou and I in greenwood shade,
Nine hundred years ago.

Heard the wild dove in the glade
Murmuring soft and low;
Vowed to love for evermore,-
Nine hundred years ago.
Thou and I in yonder star,

Eight hundred years ago,
Saw strange forms of light afar
In wild beauty glow;

All things change, but love endures Now as long ago!

Thou and I in Norman halls,

Seven hundred years ago,
Heard the warder on the walls
Loud his trumpet blow,-
..Ton amors sera tojors,"
Seven hundred years ago!
Thou and I in Germany,

Six hundred years ago-
Then I bound the red cross on;
..True love, I must go,-
But we part to meet again
In the endless flow!"
Thou and I in Syrian plains,
Five hundred years ago,
Felt the wild fire in our veins

To a fever glow!

All things die, but love lives on

Now as long ago!

Thou and I in shadow-land,

Four hundred years ago,

Saw strange flowers bloom on the strani, Heard strange breezes blow:

In the ideal love is real,

This alone I know.

Thou and I in Italy,

Three hundred years ago, Lived in faith and died for God,

Felt the faggots glow:
Ever new and ever true,

Three hundred years ago.
Thou and I on Southern seas,
Two hundred years ago,
Felt the perfumed even-breeze,
Spoke in Spanish by the trees,
Had no care or woe:
Life went dreamily in song
Two hundred years ago.
Thou and I 'mid Northern snows,
One hundred years ago,
Led an iron, silent life,

And were glad to flow
Onwards into changing death
One hundred years ago.
Thou and I but yesterday
Met in Fashion's show,
Love, did you remember me,
Love of long ago?

Yes; we keep the fond oath sworn
A thousand years ago!

WILLIAM WINTER.

BORN: GLOUCESTER, MASS., JULY 15, 1836. MR. WINTER graduated at the Harvard law school, but began his career as journalist and literary and dramatic reviewer. In 1886, in commemoration of the death of his son, he founded a library at the academy in Stapleton, Staten Island, N. Y. Mr. Winter's writings include The Convent and Other Poems, The Queen's Domain and Other Poems, MyWitnessa Book of Verse, and in 1881 appeared a Complete Edition of his poems. He has also edited various works.

VICTORIA.

Midnight and Moonlight encircled her slumbers,

Pillowed afar on the wandering deep; Softly, ah softly, with tenderest numbers. Echoes of Paradise, lull her to sleep!

Stars in your lustre, and clouds in your fleetness,

Mix round the gallant ship, breasting the gale!

Shed your sweet influence over her sweetness! Guard every bulwark and bless every sail! Billows, roll gently, that bear on your bosom Treasure more precious than infinite gold — Beauty in spring-time and love in its blossom, All that my hungry heart longs to unfold. Ocean, that breaks on the rocks where I languish,

Blessings, and prayer on your surges to pour, Like in your might to my passionate anguish, Shield her, and save her, and waft her to shore!

Angels that float in the heavenly spaces, Ah, while you guide her through perils unknown,

Still let the light of your beautiful faces

Shine on her face that is fair as your own! Violets, welcome her! roses, adore herBlushing with rapture from mountain to sea! Lilies, flash out on the meadows before her, Sparkle in glory, and ripple in glee!

Scattered o'er mountain, and forest and river, Far the dark phantoms of trouble are hurled: She will illuminate, she will deliver,

She will redeem and transfigure the world!

ORGIA.

A SONG OF RUIN.

Who cares for nothing alone is free.

Sit down, good fellow, and drink with me!

With a careless heart and a merry eye,
He will laugh at the world as the world goes by.

He laughs at power and wealth and fame;
He laughs at virtue, he laughs at shame:
He laughs at hope, and he laughs at fear,
And at memory's dead leaves crisp and sere:

He laughs at the future cold and dim,—
Nor earth nor heaven is dear to him.
O that is the comrade fit for me:
He cares for nothing, his soul is free,
Free as the soul of the fragrant wine:
Sit down, good fellow - my heart is thine.
For I heed not custom, creed, nor law;
I care for nothing that ever I saw.

In every city my cup I quaff,

And over my liquor I riot and laugh.

I laugh like the cruel and turbulent wave:

I laugh at the church and I laugh at the grave.

I laugh at joy, and well I know
That I merrily, merrily laugh at woe.

I terribly laugh, with an oath and a sneer, When I think that the hour of death draws near.

For I know that Death is a guest divine,
Who shall drink my blood as I drink this wine.
And he cares for nothing! A king is he!
Come on, old fellow, and drink with me!
With you I will drink to the solemn Past,
Though the cup I drain should be my last.

I will drink to the phantoms of love and truth;
To ruined manhood and wasted youth.

I will drink to the woman who brought my woe,
In the diamond morning of Long Ago:
To a heavenly face, in sweet repose;
To the lily's snow and the.blood of the rose;
To the splendor, caught from orient skies,
That thrilled in the dark of her hazel eyes,---
Her large eyes wild with the fire of the south,
And the dewy wine of her warm red mouth.
I will drink to the thought of better time;
To innocence, gone like a death-bell chime.
I will drink to the shadow of coming doom;
To the phantoms that wait in my lonely tomb.
I will drink to my soul in its terrible mood,
Dimly and solemnly understood.

And, last of all, to the Monarch of Sin,
Who has conquered that fortress and reigns
within.

My sight is fading,-it dies away,

I cannot tell,- is it night or day?

My heart is burnt and blackened with pain,
And a horrible darkness crushed my brain.

I cannot see you. The end is nigh,
But we'll laugh together before I dic.
Through awful chasm I plunge and fall!
Your hand, good fellow! I die,- that's all.

MRS. LIZZIE L. VAN BURGH.

BORN: BERNADOTTE, ILL., SEPT. 29, 1859. SINCE a girl this lady has written verse. She was married in 1884 to A. P.Van Burgh, who re

MRS. LIZZIE LILLIAN VAN BURGH.

presents the Home Insurance Company at Filley, Nebraska.

CHANGED.

To-day I'm sitting all alone

And dreaming of the past;

Those bright and sunny days did own
Too much of Heaven in them to last.
I will not say, my precious friend,
That all my joy has fled;
While there is life there still is hope,

And where there's hope, joy is not dead;
Grief often is a blessing in disguise-

Tho' we cannot see it with our human eyes. Genie, they say that I am changed, Yet how they scarcely know; The features surely are the same, The smiles still come, but quickly go. They say the merry, joyous laughOnce came so glad and free,

Is but a mockery of true self,

And meant a blind for self to be;

We strive to hide our sorrow in our heart,
And find at last it is of us a part.
Sometimes I laugh at these remarks;
Sometimes I breathe a sigh,

To think of true and faithful hearts
Whose very lives are still a lie.

If we could see the inmost soul
For just a time laid bare,
How strange to see we little know

The secrets deeply hidden there;

675

MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD. Do you remember the happy days When you and I were young; How we went fishing in the brook, And the happy songs we sung? Those quiet days can come but once, Enjoy them while you may; For as our childhood days go by, Mirth does not always stay. Alas! too soon that singing voice In sadness may be hushed; And who of us can tell how soon Those lips may mold to dust. We cannot tell what may be ours In future years to bear; But let our childhood happiness Cast sunshine every where.