Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow

“ When the blasts beat loud and the tempests shriek,
And the winds are smote as the chords of a lyre,
I curtain the cold where the corners leak,
Tossing the logs till the flames leap higher,
As I sit on the hearth while the rafters creak,
Feeding the fangs of the hungry fire. ”

“ In death, where flaming poppies fired the dust,
They brought a laurel wreath:
Honour to ashes on the coffin lid!
Fame to the skull beneath!
{21} RESURRECTION
The trumpet of the Judgment shook the night,
Dust quickened and was flesh; grave-clothes were shed;
With moaning of strong travail and lament,
The sea gave up her dead.
One, rising from a rotting tomb, beheld
The heavens unfold beneath Jehovah’s breath.
“Great God!” he cried, “with Thine eternity,
Couldst Thou not leave me Death?” ”

“ The love that is long and the breast of a bride.
(For bone of my bone I have chosen Death!
“Nay, nay—ah, love, I am Life,” she saith.)
{50} TO MY DOG
O tried and true! together we have passed
Life’s whirlpool, and have felt Fate’s heaviest blow—
Shall I, then, stand the traitor at the last? ”