The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales in Verse Part 61

And now, as if struck by electrical shock, The young one swift bounded aside, And then with an air which would true valor mock, Some strange soldiers' antics she tried.

Advancing, retreating, with rig well upreared, Her looks testify to her ire; And every manoeuvre, it is to be feared, Will bring some calamity dire.

But meantime, the mother in calmest content, And careless as cat could well be, Just waited till Tibby's flash-valor was spent, Yet now and then winking at me.

I judged from this fact that a wrinkle had struck, To the depths of her sage cat-like brain; And I thought of my beautiful kitten's ill-luck In entering on such a campaign.

The thought had scarce flashed through the chambers of mind, When she pounced like a tiger on prey!

Oh, horror! but stop! with relief I now find They both were engaged in mere play.

But whether in play or real earnest, it seems Young Tibby's no match for her mother; So thus I now end this my first of cat dreams, Not caring to write such another.

LINES COMPOSED AT MR. M'LARTY'S, WEST MISSOURI, AUGUST 3, 1873.

McLarty, I can't leave your house, Your darling daughter, charming spouse, Without at least a single rhyme Commemorating that sweet time When I, with my beloved wife, Shared your dear home, with comforts rife.

And now I backward cast my eye O'er eight-and-twenty years, gone by, Since first to you the land I sold Which now you prize far more than gold.

Ah, then with trees 'twas covered o'er Thousands of which are now no more; But in their stead rich, waving grain, On hill and dale and pleasant plain Abundant grows; and year by year Adds comforts to your home so dear.

Fair trout creek still flows softly by, Though not so pleasing to the eye, As when at first its stream I saw, So many, many years ago.

For then no logs unshapely, rude, Did on that beauteous creek intrude; But o'er its smooth and gravelly bed It held its course, and murmur shed Like sweetest music on my ear, And made me long to live just here.

But urgent duty called me hence, To scenes less pleasing to the sense Of one who had a poet's eye For Nature's works. I bade good bye To what so quickly had become To me almost as dear as home.

And now, kind friends, we must return To that same home, while bosoms burn With plat.i.tude for kindness shown To those you had so little known.

We linger still: 'tis hard to part From you, when fondly heart to heart Beats now, as if for years we'd been Fast bound in friends.h.i.+p's bands serene.

G.o.d bless you all! we fervent pray, And make you happier every day!

Should we in future meet no more, O, may we all reach Canaan's sh.o.r.e.

FAMILY PIECES

LINES TO MY MOTHER, WHO DIED WHEN I WAS ABOUT TWO YEARS OLD.

I had a mother once, and her dear name Has power even now to thrill my very frame, And call forth feelings which can only rise When Love doth view its object in the skies.

So would I view thee, Mother, and rejoice That I have power to raise my feeble voice And tell what thoughts arise within my breast, As thus I view thee entered into rest.

O, say, my Mother, canst thou see thy son?

Dost thou behold the poor, erratic one Who has been tossed on Life's tempestuous wave Till he has fairly longed to find his grave?

I fain would know if, when I heave a sigh, Tears e'er bedim thy sympathetic eye?

When I have drunk so deep of heartfelt woe, And: roved the vanity of all below, Oh, say, my Mother, hast thou felt a share Know'st thou what 'tis to be weighed down with care?

Why write I thus? for souls in heavenly bliss Feel not our woes--know not what sorrow is-- Unless their past experiences they feel, To aid, by contrast, in producing weal.

For it is written, "G.o.d shall wipe away Tears from all faces," in Eternal Day!

Then let me rest content, and strive to show True patience, while I suffer here below, And follow Christ wherever he may lead: Thus proving faith sincere by every deed.

O, then, whenever he may call me hence, I shall be willing to leave time and sense And mount aloft to dwell with G.o.d forever, To taste that bliss from which naught can me sever.

TO MY WIFE.

Ellen, dear, it is clear I have not half thy merits told; Sweet of life, lovely wife, More precious thou hast been than gold.

Listen now; truth I trow Will be my guide while I relate What pure love, sweetest dove, Thou still hast shown in marriage state.

When I'm ill thou dost fill The office of a comforter; Soothing sickness with such quickness That disease seems banished far.

If low spirits we inherit, Thou swiftly drivest them away By sweet song all day long, Until I feel quite young and gay.

Then our house, tidy spouse, Is kept by thee so trim and neat, That from home I'll not roam To try and find a snug retreat.

Of girls and boys, and many joys, We have, my dearest, quite our share; How to use them, not abuse them, Should always be our constant care.

But alas! how soon pa.s.s All present good desires away.

Feel we weakness? then in meekness Let us unto our Father pray.

He is strong, and has long Upheld us by His mighty arm; O how glorious! Faith victorious Will us preserve always from harm.

Then let us pray, love, day by day, That our dear children may be brought Into His fold, ere they are old: Even as G.o.d himself hath taught.

O, what pleasure in rich measure We then should feel, my own true love!

For naught ever could us sever, But all at last would dwell above--

By G.o.d's grace in that place Inhabited by Spirits bright.

This secured, we allured, Might view by Faith the glorious sight.

TO THE SAME, WHEN AWAY FROM HOME

Oh, when will my beloved come To her own home again?

Surely it will not be my doom To miss her always in each room, And of her loss complain.

Dear Chris and Jenny wish her home, And ask why she's not here; And I in quest of her would roam, But fear to miss her much-loved form, Which I would hope is near.

Yet I would not impatient be; Thou art on Mother tending.

Thy love to her I like to see.

It will not lessen mine to thee, Until my life is ending.

And should'st thou stay another week, A month, or even a year-- Thy conduct past would loudly speak Thy faithfulness, thy spirit meek, And say I've naught to fear.