Clara A. Merrill

“ Tis true that the city has pleasures,
And aspirants to fashion and fame,—
But yet, should you search the world over
You’ll find it is ever the same.
’Tis the toil-harden’d hand of the farmer
By which are the multitude fed,—
Yea, the farmer—the “hard-handed” duffer,
Who supplies the vast cities with bread.
’Tis the farmer who toils on, unheeding
The mid-summer sun and the rain,
Who with diligence plucks the tares from the wheat
And garners the golden grain. ”

“ Ye have starved helpless men and women to death
And the wailing of children enjoyed.
Ye have tortured them with fiendish delight,
And hundreds of people have slain;
Ye caused the death of our brave, noble men,
Who went down in the wreck of the “Maine.”{119}
Ye can come to me if ye want to fight,—
Ye can come with your jeer and taunt;
And ye can fight to your hearts’ content.
If fighting is what ye want.
Our boys so brave, when duty calls,
Will all their strength unite ”

“ WHAT WOULD THEY DO?
’Tis true that the city is pleasant,
With its scenes ever varied and new;
But if it were not for the country
Oh, what would the city folks do?
Soon plenty would be superseded
By dearth with its train of distress;
The gaunt wolf would roam by the once happy home
Though riches untold you possess. ”

“ Will the men folks stay in the house all day
Dressed in their silks and laces—
Their soft white hands bedecked with rings,
And powder on their faces?
Will they play the piano, with no thought
To the morrow ever giving—
While the woman goes, and tries to find
Some way to get a living?{86}
Will she be a carpenter,
And build houses tall and grand ”

“ Casting all our burdens from us
’Neath the shelter of a crown.
Near the Throne of Love e’er dwelling,
Sheltered safe from every woe;
No more sorrow, no more weeping,
Naught but glory shall we know.
There we shall be ever happy
In the mansion of the blest;
Blessed be the peace eternal—
Blessed is the sweet word—Rest.
{28}
LOVED ONES PASSED AWAY
Within our home so cheerful
Where all is warm and bright;
Sometimes our hearts grow tearful,
And to darkness turns the light.
We see not the joys that surround us—
We heed not our friends bright and gay ”

“ He ventured this remark:—
“Women may talk about their rights
And wish for a chance to vote;
Put on the airs of a gentleman
And don the vest and coat,—
They’d better be content to wait
Until it can be said
That they are brave enough to fight
A mouse when it is dead!” ”

“ They heed not your pleadings or prayers.
Often Riches will seek only Wealth’s favored lot
While Virtue seeks Virtue, abroad—
Or in humble seclusion—In palace or cot,
Knowing all are the children of God. ”

“ And what a bad thing that would be—
How dreadful is the sound—
To let the world fall in the sea
And all the good folks drown’d!
I wish that them ere pesky folks
Would let the pole alone;
I think that they had better find
Some business of their own!
I wish some one would find them folks
And try and make them see
That they had better stay at home
And let the North Pole be!{135}
If I should ever see them men
As sure’s my name is Joe
They’ll find what my opinion is
And I shall tell them so! ”

“ I could have the best the world affords,
And always live serene.
You fly away to the fields of grain
Or feast on the cherries high;
While I sit here ’neath the rushes cool,
And snap at a wary fly.”
“Then why,” said the jay, “If you wish to rise
Do you not ascend this limb?”
“I will! I will!” cried the silly frog,
I’m tired of folks that swim!”{54}
So he hopped from the tuft of grass to the tree,
Then up where the branches divide ”

“ Oh! what would the city folks do?
Then have praise and respect for the farmer—
Be cordial to him when you meet—
Ne’er pass him with countenance scornful
Or gaze at the “old codger’s” feet,
Though he has not the costly apparel
Which you wear with such elegant grace—
Remember, you can’t live without him
Nor can aught in the world fill his place. ”

“ As darksome fears encroach;
Why the once fair sex in timidity
Shrank from a mouse’s approach
Yes, the time is drawing nearer,—
Yet one question still remains
Will the world be any better
When the women hold the reins? ”

“ A BACHELOR’S COMMENTS ON WOMEN’S RIGHTS
’Tis said the time is close at hand
Which earnest thought invites—
We’ll take up this expansive theme
And speak on “Women’s Rights.”
Methinks there’s many a questions, now,
Which worthy seems of note;
What say we, then: Will all things change
When the women have power to vote?
Will they exchange places with the men—
Tread where have trod their feet—
And dig and delve all day, to get
Things for the men to eat? ”

“ And the women are lucky if they can keep out
Of the streaks of tobacco-juice flying about!
Chorus
And tobacco-smoke fragrant will flow
In beautiful wreaths, you know!
The women, poor things, must wash, mend and bake,
And should there occur the slightest mistake
The men-folks will growl, and help things along
And emphasize things with language strong! ”

“ One grievance exists which I owe to the San—
Oh dear, I have gained so in weight!
No more like a fairy am I.—Yet ’tis true
It is lovely to come here and rest,—
It’s a fine place to thrive—For see, even you
Are not very small round the vest! ”

“ This world would be happy, and lovely indeed,
If the men were banished, of them there’s no need;
Now the ambitious women must fight for their due—
With the pesky men-folks we’ll have no more to do!
Chorus
They don’t like to work, Oh no! ”

“ Each swain escorts his sweetheart home
(If he can get the chance!)
Thus joy and love will enter in
The lot with honest toil;
As the farmer reaps his rich reward
From tilling of the soil.
{72}
LOOK UP
(Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.)
’Tis dreary now, a snowy shroud
Lies white upon the ground;
While fierce and wild the piercing blast
With chilling notes resound.
No songs of birds—No crickets chirp.
No busy hum of bees
Ere floats aloft.—The Wood-nymphs sleep
Within the leafless trees.
All Nature’s works now dormant lie
’Neath pure, white cover lid ”

“ We know not why ’tis so—
But he chasteneth all more or less;
Where sorrow and strife
And burdens are rife,
These will He especially bless.
When o’er trials we sigh
To Him we should fly
Who doeth all things for the best ”

“ Turn your gaze to scenes Immortal—
Is your chance of Heaven more sure
Than the lowly one, possessing
Naught of fame, but heart most pure?{96}
Nay, your riches ne’er can save you,
Virtue is the Gem of Worth ”

“ For your chances are lost if one thing you withhold!
“And how long is it, I’d like to know
Pat, since you left the world below?”—
“If I mistake not, it is ten
Years I’ve with patience held the pen.”—
“What errand calls you forth this morn?”
“More ink,” said Pat, “I must hasten on.”
“Ten years since you’ve been in this clime—
And you’ve been writing all the time!
Begorry then, its more than ’tis worth—
And I think, on the whole, I’ll go back to the Earth.
—For really, you see, ’tis not worthy the strife—
Sure, ’twould kape me at work all the days of me life!” ”

“ Their masculine nature they show—
(Rather growl than work, you know!)
’Tis predicted the time is not far away
When the men-folks, cast down, let the women hold sway;
The men will be piled in one gigantic heap,
Then Perfection’s sweet presence the women will keep! ”

“ It makes a poem.—See?
And ’tis an elegant thing to have
When you’re “down in luck” you think—
(And the only cost is a trivial sum
Of some of your mental chink.) {146}
When e’er the world seems going wrong
And you your courage lose;
Get out your “Poetry Machine”
And drive away the “blues.”
Just turn the crank—Sad thoughts will flee
As the cog-wheels whirr and buzz,—
There’s naught can raise one’s spirits up
Like the “Verse Mill” always does! ”

“ There’s many a man can dance all night—
But ’twould harm him to walk up a hill!
{93}
SUNSHINE ON THE HILL
In the low-land where the shadows
Gather at the close of day;
When the sky in all its beauty
Turns from blue to sombre grey,—
Voices of the day are ceasing,
Plaintively the night-birds trill,—
In the distance, like a halo—
Lo! the sun shines on the hill!
When, like Wings of Night unfolded
Sorrow casts its chilling shade ”

“ To let ’er hurt it won’t be right,—
Say! d’ye spose we’ll want the larntern,
When we’re comin’ home tonight?
Wish we had a nigger driver,
Then I guess we’d go in style;
We’d make the people gaze before
We’d been a half a mile!
Come now, hurry, Jake and Lydia,—
Have ye washed yer? where’s the comb?
Come now, hurry,—let’s start early,
So we’ll find the folks at home. ”

“ Reached the top of the bank, with a loud joyous yelp—
Ah! none but this boy had offered it help!
Then he took it up kindly, ’neath his jacket to hold
To protect the poor creature, now shivering with cold.{104}
As snugly it nestled ’neath the boy’s ragged frock
It said (as plainly as a poor dog can talk)
I love you, dear friend—I’ll help you if I can;
For in all this vast throng there’s but you that’s a man! ”

“ While its glance towards its master said plain as it could:—
“I’ll stay with this laddie because he is good.”
“Oh! my little pet knows you are honest and true;
The dog ’s name is Gipsy, and well he loves you.
But say, little man, how came you to save
‘A poor little cur’ from a watery grave?”
“I know what it is to be friendless,” he said,—
“I’ve no friends, or home, now since Mother is dead—
I know what it is to be hungry—forlorn—
I’ve not tasted food, sir, since yesterday morn. ”

“ Poem complete—
Bradbury Damon.
“By Gum! he’s beaten us all!” they cried
Between their tight—shut teeth;
Then brushed away that pile of sand
And saw what lay beneath!
They cried “Let’s give three cheers for Lute!
Of him we have learned this day
If we can’t succeed just as we wish
We’ll do it as we may.”
Patrons, Friends:—
Should aught arise within this Grange
Which we don’t understand;
Let’s look beneath the surface then,
Let’s clear away the sand.
{131}
SONG OF THE GRANGERS’
(Written for Mountain Grange)
Away o’er the hills, or thro’ valleys,
Wherever I happen to be ”

“ And ’neath load of sin he falleth—
Will the Heavenly Father save?
In that home where friends await us
Shall we know them when we meet—
Will they seem the same dear loved ones
That on earth we used to greet?—
Mystic thoughts—Ah! who can tell us
All that Fancy fain would know?
“God is Love” and “We shall know then”
Faith responds in answer low.
{20}
A WINTER OUTING
Get up Sam, ’n’ harness Nancy,
Shake the hayseed from yer head;
We are goin’ on a ’s’cursion,
Goin’ on the old bob-sled;
Won’t the folks think we are handsome,
As we pass the village street ”

“ By an all-wise and infinite plan
May guide and bless you, what e’re may befall—
And rich blessings send down to the San.
The San Poetess.
{153}
WE KNOW NOT WHY
’Tis true, to some
Good luck will come
As we go life’s path along ”

“ And escaped their cruel beaks:—
If this is the way the ‘high class’ treats
The lowly ones, ’tis clear
’Tis best that we should be content
To stay in our native sphere!
{55}
Moral
When proud Ambition seeks to rise
From its accustomed ways;
Oft jealousies will jeer and peck,
As did the haughty jays.
* * *
To all who chance to read this tale,
Its simple warning speaks,—
“Ye who aspire to sphere’s aloft—
Beware of vicious beaks!”
{56}
THE COTTAGE BY THE RIVER
(Lines on a very old house situated on the west shore of the Nezinscot river, and some distance from any other dwelling.) ”