Part 7 (1/2)
_AN AUTUMNAL ROMANCE_
A LEAF fell in love with the soft green lawn, He deemed her the sweetest and best, And then on a dreary November dawn He withered and died on her breast.
_THE COUNTRY IN JULY_
WHERE glistening in the softness of the night The vagrant will-o'-wisps do greet the sight; Where fragrance baffling permeates the breeze That gently flouts the gra.s.ses and the trees; Where every flying thing doth seem to be Instinct with sweetly sensuous melody; Where hills and dales a.s.sume their warmest phase, With here and there a scarf of opal haze To soften their luxuriant attire; Where one can almost hear the elfin choir Across the meadow-land, down in the wood, In songs of gladness-there are all things good.
Ah! ye who seek the spot where joys abide, Awake! Awake! Seek out the country-side, And through the blue-gray July haze see life All free from care, from sorrow, and from strife.
_MAY 30, 1893_
IT seemed to be but chance, yet who shall say That 'twas not part of Nature's own sweet way,
That on the field where once the cannon's breath Lay many a hero cold and stark in death,
Some little children, in the after-years, Had come to play among the gra.s.sy spears,
And, all unheeding, when their romp was done, Had left a wreath of wild flowers over one
Who fought to save his country, and whose lot It was to die unknown and rest forgot?
_THE CURSE OF WEALTH_
”WHAT shall I put my dollars in?” he asked, in wild dismay.
”I've fifty thousand of 'em, and I'd like to keep 'em too.
I'd like to put them by to serve some future rainy day, But in these times of queer finance what can a fellow do?
”A railway bond is picturesque, and the supply is great, But strangely like a novel that upon occasion drags, Of which the critics of the time in hackneyed phrases state, 'The work has certain value, but the int'rest often flags!'
”The same is true of railway shares, 'tis safer to invest In ploughshares, so it seems to me, in this unhappy time.
Some think great wealth a blessing, but it cannot stand the test; He's happier by far than I who's but a single dime.
”He does not lie awake at night and fret and fume, to think Of bank officials on a spree with what he's toiled to get.
He is not driven by his woe quite to the verge of drink By wondering if his balance in the bank remains there yet.
”He does not pick the paper up in terror every night To see if V.B.G. is up, or P.D.Q. is down; It does not fill his anxious soul with nerve-destroying fright To hear the Wall Street rumors that are flying 'bout the town.
”Ah, better had I ta'en that cash that I have skimped to save, And spent it on my living and my pleasures day by day!
I would not now be goaded nigh unto my waiting grave, By wondering how the deuce to keep those dollars mine for aye.
”I'd not be bankrupt in my nerves and prematurely old, These golden shackles must be burst; I must again be free.
What Ho without! My ducats-to the winds with all my gold, That I may once again enjoy the rest of poverty.”