Part 2 (1/2)

No, no, bonnie steed, I will not part with you.

But when thou art old and thy usefulness o'er, In a nice, cozy attic thy frame I will store,

And every day, be it suns.h.i.+ne or rain, I'll steal to thy side and in fancy again We'll skim the green meadows, my steed, you and I, 'Mong the flowers that grow 'neath the soft, tender sky.

Then come, let us bask in the dewy delight Of the country--hi! ho! we are soon out of sight.

Though a bit out of style, just the same is thy speed.

I love thee! I love thee! my bonnie bright steed.

DESPONDENCY.

Oh, balmy night--a night in June-- What endless beauties thine!

Hast thou a balm thou'lt gently breathe O'er tired souls like mine?

The cricket 'neath the old porch floor Chirps forth a merry lay; The roses nod and smile at me-- ”A sweet good-night,” they say.

Oh, cricket, hush your merry song; How can you be so gay?

Ye roses bow your crimson heads, And mourn my vanished day.

AN OLD-FAs.h.i.+ONED GARDEN.

How oft from the din of the hard city street, The show and the splendor, in fancy, my feet Stray backward through paths that are dripping with dew, To an old-fas.h.i.+oned garden my babyhood knew.

A wealth of red roses hung over the wall, And, laden with pink, downy peaches, a tall And willowy tree did its long branches sway O'erhead, as you pa.s.sed, in an inviting way; While from its green shelter the oriole's song Rode on the soft breezes the summer day long.

The currant-bush flourished in rows near the wall, The sugar corn waved its soft leaves over all; And b.u.t.tercups, daisies and peonies grew, The fragrant June pinks and the wee bells of blue;

The marigolds, poppies, and pansies so sweet Lifted their dewy faces towards heaven to meet The first smile of morning; the fragrant sweet pea Wound its delicate tendrils round pickets, and we

To drowsiness drank of the odor it spilled, While sunflowers nodded to us as we filled Our baskets with blossoms for table bouquets, Or lolled in the bliss of the soft morning haze; Or, with ap.r.o.ns outspread, in our childish delight, The b.u.t.terfly chased in his foraging flight 'Mong the flowers; or the hummer, that gay little thief, That pilfered the sweets from each petal and leaf.

But long years ago the old garden was sold!

Its walls, rustic gates, are all crumbled to mold; Its beds and smooth pathways 'neath gra.s.s-tangles hid, For the breezes of June-time are whispering 'mid The flowers that blossom her pallet above, Who tended that old-fas.h.i.+oned garden I love; And singing their lullaby sweetest where lies My playmate and sister with bonnie blue eyes.

And I hope when my sojourn of usefulness here Is past, to the place that my bosom holds dear I may go, and there pillow my head 'neath the tree Where robin and oriole chirrup in glee, While my soul slips away from the spot that I love, To old-fas.h.i.+oned gardens that grow up above.

DANCE OF THE RIPPLES.

I stood, one night, by the old St. Joe, Where the moonbeams love to loiter; Watching the ripples come and go And the willow trees their shadows throw On the mystic, murm'ring water.

As I lingered there on the vine-clad bank, Where the pale rays glint and quiver Through the silvered leaves, a perfumed breeze So softly swayed the willow trees, And dappled the laughing river.

The waters murmured so low and sweet, Then an echo, soft and clear,-- Not the sound of lute or song of bird, But the sweetest music ever heard, Fell on my enchanted ear.

The silvered ripples all leaped for joy!

And over the waters glancing I saw, in the light, a pretty sight; In an ecstasy of glad delight, The ripples all were dancing.

They danced in the midst where the stars look down-- No shadowy branch to hide them; They danced where the willows kiss the stream, Then back again in the moonlight's gleam, And the fish peeped out and eyed them.

They danced in the shade of the iron bridge, Where the aspen's shadows play; And the great moon smiled as the dancers fled, And spangles dropped on each little head, As they laughed and danced away.