HELEN Sarah Chauncey Woolsey ("SUSAN COOLIDGE") THE autumn seems to cry for thee, Each russet branch and branch of gold, In every wood I see thee stand, The ruddy boughs above thy head, And heaped in either slender hand The frosted white and amber ferns, The sumach's deep, resplendent red, Which like a fiery feather burns, And, over all, thy happy eyes, Shining as clear as autumn skies. I hear thy call upon the breeze, Gay as the dancing wind, and sweet, And, underneath the radiant trees, O'er lichens gray and darkling moss, Which never were at fault or loss, Where art thou, comrade true and tried? Before my eyes, made dim and blind Already, in these few short weeks, A hundred things I leave unsaid, And month by month, and year by year, I do not think thou hast forgot, But all my anger, all my pain and woe, Are vain to daunt her gladness; all the while She goes rejoicing, and I do not know, Catching the soft irradiance of her smile, If I am most her lover or her foe. Gertrude Bloede ("STUART STERNE ") NIGHT AFTER NIGHT NIGHT after night we dauntlessly embark On slumber's stream, in whose deep waves are drowned Sorrow and care, and with all senses bound Drift for a while beneath the sombre arc Of that full circle made of light and dark Called life, yet have no fear, and know refound Lost consciousness shall be, even at the sound Of the first warble of some early lark Or touch of sunbeam. Oh, and why not then Lie down to our last sleep, still trusting Him Who guided us so oft through shadows dim, Believing somewhere on our sense again Some lark's sweet note, some golden beam, shall break, And with glad voices cry, "Awake! awake! Will Carleton But it's never gone back on us for nineteen or twenty years; An' I won't go back on it now, or go to pokin' fun There's such a thing as praisin' a thing for the good that it has done. Probably you remember how rich we was that night, When we was fairly settled, an' had things snug and tight: We feel as proud as you please, Nancy, over our house that's new, But we felt as proud under this old roof, and a good deal prouder, too. Never a handsomer house was seen beneath the sun : Kitchen and parlor and bedroom had 'em all in one; we And the fat old wooden clock, that we bought when we come West, Was tickin' away in the corner there, and doin' its level best. Trees was all around us, a-whisperin' cheering words; Loud was the squirrel's chatter, and sweet the songs of birds; And home grew sweeter and brighter- our courage began to mountAnd things looked hearty and happy then, and work appeared to count. And here one night it happened, when things was goin' bad, We fell in a deep old quarrel — the first we ever had; And when you give out and cried, then I, like a fool, give in, And then we agreed to rub all out, and start the thing ag'in. Here it was, you remember, we sat when the day was done, And you was a-makin' clothing that was n't for either one; And often a soft word of love I was soft enough to say, And the wolves was howlin' in the woods not twenty rods away. 1 Copyright, 1873, by HARPER & BROTHERS. |