Jr. Horatio Alger

“ We wait but thy blessing, we ask but thy smile, As our sails to the free air we fling. The winds breathe auspicious that waft us along, The sky, undisturbed, smiles serene, Hope stands at the prow, and the waters gleam bright With sparkles of silvery sheen. And thy voice, Alma Mater, so potent and sweet, Still sounds in our ears as of yore, And thy motherly counsel we hear, wisdom-fraught, As we push our frail barks from the shore. From the foam-crested waves of the mountainous sea As backward our glances we strain, We see the dear face of our mother benign, And bless her again and again. ”

“ Its doors in fair prospect the world opens wide, Its prizes seem easy to win,— We are strong in our faith, we are bold in our might, And we long for the race to begin. Though dimmed are our hopes, and our visions are fled, Our dreams were but dreams, it is true; Dust-stained from the contest we gather to-night, The sweet dreams of youth to renew. Enough for to-morrow the cares it shall bring, We are boys, we are brothers, to-night; And our hearts, warm with love, Alma Mater, to thee, Shall in loyal devotion unite. ”

“ Sturdy sons and comely daughters, growing up from childish plays, One by one have met life's duties, and gone forth their several ways. Hushed the voice of childish laughter, hushed is childhood's merry tone, By the fireside Grand'ther Baldwin and his good wife sit alone. Yet once within the twelvemonth, when the days are short and drear, And chill winds chant the requiem of the slowly fading year, When the autumn work is over, and the harvest gathered in, Once again the old house echoes to a long unwonted din. ”

“ What matter, then, if to others My castle a phantom may be, Since I feel, in the depths of my own heart, That it is not so to me?
APPLE-BLOSSOMS. I sit in the shadow of apple-boughs, In the fragrant orchard close, And around me floats the scented air, With its wave-like tidal flows. I close my eyes in a dreamy bliss, And call no king my peer; For is not this the rare, sweet time, The blossoming time of the year? I lie on a couch of downy grass, With delicate blossoms strewn, And I feel the throb of Nature's heart Responsive to my own. ”

“ Croak, croak, croak, Till the heart is full of gloom, And croak, croak, croak, Till the world seems but a tomb. To poison the cup of life, By always dreading the worst. Is to make of the earth a dungeon damp, And the happiest life accursed. Croak, croak, croak, When the noontide sun rides high, And croak, croak, croak, Lest the night come by and by. Farewell to the dismal frog; Let him croak as loud as he may, He cannot blot the sun from heaven, Nor hinder the march of day, Though he croak, croak, croak, Till the heart is full of gloom, And croak, croak, croak, Till the world seems but a tomb. ”

“ As we scan the fair scene that once greeted their eyes, As we tread the same paths which they trod, Let us tenderly think of our elders by birth, Who have gone to their rest, and their God. God bless the old homestead! some linger there still, In the haunts which their childhood has known, While others have wandered to places remote, And planted new homes of their own; But Time cannot weaken the ties Love creates, Nor absence, nor distance, impede The filial devotion which thrills all our hearts, As we bid our old mother God-speed. ”

“ As we meet in thy name, Alma Mater, to-night, All our hearts and our hopes are as one, And love for the mother that nurtured his youth Beats high in the breast of each son. The sweet chords of Memory bridge o'er the Past, The years fade away like a dream, By the banks of Cephissus, beneath the green trees, We tread thy fair walks, Academe. ”

“ At thy name all our hearts own a thrill, We turn from life's highways, its business, its cares, We are boys in thy tutelage still. And the warm blood of youth to our veins, as of yore, Returns with impetuous flow, Reviving the scenes and the hopes that were ours In the vanished, but sweet Long Ago. Once more through thy walks, Alma Mater, we tread, And we dream youth's fair dreams once again, We are heroes in fight for the Just and the Right, We are knights without fear, without stain ”

“ There's a fountain of Fable whose magical power Time's ravages all could repair, And replace the bowed form and the tottering step, The wrinkles and silvery hair, By the brown flowing locks and the graces of youth, Its footstep elastic and light, Could mantle the cheek with its long-vanished bloom And make the dull eye keen and bright. 'Tis only a fable—a beautiful dream, But the fable, the dream, shall come true, As thy sons, Alma Mater, assemble to-night The joys of past years to renew. ”

“ We heed them not, for we think of the voice That we shall hear no more. We think of him at eventide, And gaze on his vacant chair With a longing heart that will scarce believe That Charlie is not there. We seem to hear his ringing laugh, And his bounding step at the door; But, alas! there comes the sorrowful thought, We shall never hear them more! We shall walk sometimes to his little grave, In the pleasant summer hours; We will speak his name in a softened voice, And cover his grave with flowers; We will think of him in his heavenly home,— In his heavenly home so fair ”

“ God's ways are not as our ways, And I will not complain. "There's one at home, dear Charlie, Will mourn for me when dead, Whose heart—it is a mother's— Can scarce be comforted. You'll write and tell her, Charlie, With my dear love, that I Fought bravely as a soldier should, And died as he should die. "And you will tell her, Charlie, She must not grieve too much, Our country claims our young lives, For she has need of such. ”

“ Our eyes shall grow bright with their old wonted light, Our spirits untrammelled by care, And the Goddess of Hope, with her fresh rainbow tints, Shall paint every prospect more fair. How sweet were the friendships we formed in thy halls! How strong were the tendrils that bound Our hearts to the mother whose provident care Encompassed her children around! Now strong in our manhood we cherish her still; And if by misfortune brought low, Our strength shall support her, our arms bear her up, And sustain her through weal and through woe. ”

“ Of the lurking savage foeman from whose musket it was sped. Not far off, the barn, plethoric with the autumn harvest spoils, Holds the farmer's well-earned trophies—the guerdon of his toils; Filled the lofts with hay, sweet-scented, ravished from the meadows green, While beneath are stalled the cattle, with their quiet drowsy mien. Deep and spacious are the grain-bins, brimming o'er with nature's gold; Here are piles of yellow pumpkins on the barn-floor loosely rolled. Just below in deep recesses, safe from wintry frost and chill, There are heaps of ruddy apples from the orchard on the hill. ”

“ THE LOST HEART. One golden summer day, Along the forest-way, Young Colin passed with blithesome steps alert. His locks with careless grace Rimmed round his handsome face And drifted outward on the airy surge. So blithe of heart was he, He hummed a melody, And all the birds were hushed to hear him sing. Across his shoulders flung His bow and baldric hung: So, in true huntsman's guise, he threads the wood. The sun mounts up the sky, The air moves sluggishly, And reeks with summer heat in every pore. His limbs begin to tire, Slumbers his youthful fire ”

“ His form is thin and shrunken; His cheek is pale and wan; And the lines of care on his furrowed brow Are dread to look upon. But yesterday a monarch, In the flush of his pomp and pride, And, not content with his own broad lands, He would rule the world beside. He built him a stately palace, With gold from beyond the sea; And he laid with care the corner-stone, And he called it Slavery: He summoned an army with banners, To keep his foes at bay; And, gazing with pride on his palace walls, He said, "They will stand for aye!" ”

“ The weak must serve the strong." Straightway the Lord stretched forth his hand, And every stream ran blood; The river swept towards the sea— A full ensanguined flood. The haughty king beheld the land, By plagues afflicted sore, But, as God's wonders multiplied, Hardened his heart the more; Until the angel of the Lord Came on the wings of Night, And smote first-born of man and beast, In his destructive flight. Throughout all Egypt, not a house Was spared this crowning woe. Then broke the tyrant's stubborn will; He bade the people go. ”

“ Only when a smile floods out, All the soul in beauty glows. With that smile I grew content, And my heart grew strangely calm, As with trustful step I walked, My arm resting on his arm. Brother, turn your face away, So, dear, I can tell you best All that followed; but be sure You are looking to the west. Arthur, I have seen him since, Nearly every day, until If I lose him, all my life Would grow wan, and dark, and chill. ”

“ Some with sweetmeats, some with toys, Gifts for girls, and gifts for boys, Mounts the chimney like a bird, And the bells are once more heard. Santa Claus! Good Christmas saint, In whose heart no selfish taint Findeth place, some homes there be Where no stockings wait for thee, Homes where sad young faces wear Painful marks of Want and Care, And the Christmas morning brings No fair hope of better things. Can you not some crumbs bestow On these Children steeped in woe; Steal a single look of care Which their sad young faces wear ”

“ Since last in thy presence, grown youthful once more, We drank to the past and its joys, Shaking off every care that encumbered our years, And dreamed that again we were boys. To-night once again in thy presence we meet In the freshness and flush of life's spring ”

“ And not a man is left alive Of all that mighty force. So in these days God looks from heaven, And marks his servants' woe; Hear ye his voice: "Break every yoke, And let my people go!" For them the Red-sea waves divide, The streams with crimson flow; Therefore we mourn for our first-born;— Then let the people go. They are not weak whom God befriends, He makes their cause His own ”

“ You can hear the cries of famished men, As they cry for bread in vain. The king can see, from his palace walls. A land by his pride betrayed; Thousands of mothers and wives bereft. Thousands of graves new-made. ”

“ Some stared and hurried on, While others said in scorn. "Your heart has gone in search of your lost wits" The day is wearing fast, Young Colin comes at last To where a cottage stood embowered in trees. He looks within, and there He sees a maiden fair, Who sings low songs the while she plies her wheel. "I prithee, maiden bright,"— She turns as quick as light, And straight a warm flush crimsons all her face. She, much abashed, looks down, For on his locks so brown She seems to see the marks her lips have made. ”

“ That they who seek this sacred place, In mourning solitude, In all this gracious company May have their faith renewed. So, lifted to serener heights, And purified from dross, Their trustful hearts shall rest on God, And profit by their loss. ”

“ A battle won for truth and right Is worth the blood it cost! O mothers! count it something gained That they, for whom you mourn, Bequeath fair Freedom's heritage To millions yet unborn;— And better than a thousand years Of base, ignoble breath, A patriot's fragrant memory, A hero's early death! ”

“ Perchance—I thought—they may speak of me; Let me listen to what they say. This I said with a careless smile, And a joyous heart that was free from fears; Little I dreamed that the words I heard Would weigh on my heavy heart for years. "Rose, my Rose! for your heart is mine," I heard in a low voice, passion-fraught, "In the sight of Heaven we are truly one; Why will you cast me away for naught? "Will you give your hand where your heart goes not To a man who is grave and stern and old ”

“ The kitten still purred on the kitchen hearth, And the ancient clock, with its frame of oak, In the corner stood, like a sentinel, And challenged time with its measured stroke. A pleased light shone in the maiden's eyes; Ah, love, young love, it is very sweet! Reuben had gone, but she sat quite still, And the knitting lay untouched at her feet. Just then the dame came bustling in, And went to the oven without ado. "Why, Phoebe, child, what have you done? The bread is baked as black as my shoe!" And Phoebe started, and blushed for shame, Took up her knitting and dropped it down ”

“ Through flame and smoke that dauntless heart Responded firmly still, Unawed, though face to face with death,— "With God's good help I will!" The flames approach with giant strides, They scorch his hand and brow; One arm, disabled, seeks his side, Ah! ”

“ Roguish Charlie's playing stage-coach, and the stage-coach has upset! Joe, black-eyed and laughter-loving, Grand'ther's specs his nose across, Gravely winks at brother Willie, who is gayly playing horse. Grandma's face is fairly radiant; Grand'ther knows not how to frown, though the children, in their frolic, turn the old house upside down. For the boys may hold high revel, and the girls must have their way; That's the law at Grand'ther Baldwin's upon each Thanksgiving Day. ”