Read Ebook: Zephyrs by Stiles Kate R

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Ebook has 2481 lines and 107790 words, and 50 pages

PAGE.

The Dead, 5

Clover Blossoms, 6

Lines Written on a Stormy Night, 8

Lake Quinsigamond, 10

Lines Written for the Re-union of Pastor & People, 13

Hope, 15

The Shipwreck, 16

Pansies, 21

Little Joe, A Christmas Story, 23

The Infinite Love, 27

Lines on the Death of a Young Man, 28

The Flight of the Robin, 34

Musings, 38

The Sabbath Bell, 39

Words, 41

The Postman, 43

The Triumph of Truth, 45

Memorial Day, 47

Be True, 49

Bayard Taylor, 51

The Husking Party, 53

Autumn Leaves, 56

Birthday Lines, 58

No Room for the Children, 61

Inspiration, 63

Out of the Depths, 67

Life, 72

The Babe's Mission, 73

Sweep Clean, 75

Castles in the Air, 77

Sunbeams, 78

Lift up the Fallen, 79

Why Tarry Ye Spring-time, 80

Invocation, 81

THE DEAD.

Call them not dead, who leave the earthly for the heavenly state. Theirs is a life more real than ours; And, while we weep for them such bitter, bitter tears, They come to us with words of light and cheer; Bidding us wait in patience till our work on earth is done. Then shall we join them in that higher life, Where all which now seems full of deep, deep, mystery, Shall be unfolded to our view; and we shall see That all the discipline of our earth life was needed, To fit our souls for knowledge infinitely greater, and far more glorious Than mortal mind can e'er attain.

CLOVER BLOSSOMS.

Pretty little clover, with your flowers so fair, Filling with their sweetness all the summer air; Sad it is to see you crushed by careless feet, Pretty little clover, with your blossoms sweet.

Grows the pretty clover everywhere we look; All along the roadside--by the running brook. Beautiful and fragrant, are these little flowers. Ah! how we should miss them from this world of ours!

Pretty little clover--scorned because you grow Without care or coaxing--making little show. Yet your flowers are sweeter than the rose or pink; Modest little clover--this is what I think.

There are many lives in this world of ours, Crushed, and scorned, and slighted Like these pretty flowers. Throwing out their sweetness on the desert air, Only seen by Him, who seeth everywhere.

LINES WRITTEN ON A STORMY NIGHT.

Let the wintry breezes blow! What care we? Cold or heat, rain, hail or snow; Oh what care we? Life is full of brightness still, All may find it if they will, Only say to every ill, Oh what care we?

Oft our cup is upside down, But what care we? It will do no good to frown, What care we? Bravely bear it, as we should. From the evil comes the good, Grief's but joy, misunderstood; Then what care we?

Though the world may not approve us, What care we? There's a Heaven of love above us; Then what care we? God is with His children ever; Helping on each grand endeavor. Fear not then: but answer ever, Oh what care we?

LAKE QUINSIGAMOND.

Beautiful lake, with thy silvery sheen, Many a tale thou couldst tell I ween; Tales of the years long since gone by, When the wild deer and the wolf were nigh; When over thy waters fair and blue, The red man sailed in his birch canoe; When no step but his was heard on thy shore As he wandered thy wooded hillsides o'er. Silvery lake, thou wert then, I trow, Fair and beautiful as now.

Beautiful lake, art thou happier to-day, As over thy waters, the young and gay Float along in merry glee, Caring little for what is to be As they send their laughter thy waters o'er, Till its echo resounds from shore to shore? Are these sounds more sweet to thy listening ear Than the red man's cry thou was wont to hear? Beautiful lake, tell me I pray What dost thou think of life to-day?

Beautiful lake, so smooth and clear, Thou hast caused the falling of many a tear; For in thy dark and strong embrace Lies many a well remembered face. Only the Infinite and thou Canst tell where rest these loved forms now; But what matters it where the form may be Since the spirit has risen unfettered and free? This thou wert powerless to enfold, Beautiful lake, in thy waters cold.

Beautiful lake, I love to sit On thy banks, and watch the white sails flit And hear the laugh and the merry song Of happy hearts as they glide along; Or at sunset's hour, which is sweeter far, Ere yet appears the evening star, To watch the shadows come and go; And gazing in thy depths below, Each hill and vale, each shrub and tree, Reflected in thy face to see.

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