Kate R. Stiles

“ His spirit basking in the sunlight of eternal day.
Unto his fellow men he has bequeathed
A legacy of rich and noble thought.
Of him, shall no one say “He lived for nought!”
Ah! soul so noble and so strong!
From thy new life in realms sublime,
Waft us an inspiration, for the work of coming time! ”

“ In the hours of your waking, some proof that I live.”
Like the fall of the dew upon leaflet and flower,
Like the sound of sweet music, at twilight’s still hour,
Like the glorious sun, after long night of gloom,
These low whispered words, shed a light o’er the tomb,
And the mother, no longer oppressed by her woes,
Sank peacefully back again into repose.
At length she awakes from her slumbers, to find
The light streaming in, through the half open blind; [Pg 33]
And she utters a prayer that the sunlight of love
May thus enter her spirit, and lift it above. ”

“ While our spirits, soaring heavenward, from them inspiration draw.
Thus, unto us, nature ever, speaks in tones so loud and clear,
That, whoever will but listen, her sweet cadences shall hear.
But ’tis not alone from nature, that the soul this power derives; [Pg 65]
The sublimest inspiration, comes to us from human lives. ”

“ God, the keeper, feels nothing but pity;
He never turns any away.
’Tis man who closes the portals,
Against his poor brother man.
Alas! that short-sighted mortals,
Should call it the “Infinite plan!”
Our Heavenly Father is tender!
He loveth His children too well,
To give to each poor offender
The unceasing torments of “Hell.”
His love is more true than a mother’s
For the infant she bears on her breast;
More true than a sister’s or brother’s;
Oh, then in that love let us rest!
[Pg 28]
LINES ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG MAN.
A mother bends over a darling son,
Whose work on earth is nearly done ”

“ Inspiration! ’tis around us, and above us, in the very air we breathe,
When the Infinite Creator gave us life, he did bequeath
Power to gather this rich treasure from the beautiful and pure.
Drink, then, ever at this fountain; ’tis unfailing and secure ”

“ There’s a sadness steals over my spirit ’tis true,
At the thought that to summer I’ve bidden adieu;
But the autumn hath glories, which well may compare
With the beauties of spring—or the soft summer air.
O! beautiful leaves, I’ll not leave you to perish
Alone in the forest—with no one to cherish ”

“ But I’ll gather you up; and with berries and mosses,
My fingers shall twine you in garlands and crosses,
Your beauty shall be, through the dark wintry days,
Like an anthem of joy or a tribute of praise. ”

“ 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 ”

“ To my angel Effie, the memory of whose life is an inspiration, I dedicate this little volume.
INTRODUCTION.
At the earnest solicitation of many dear friends, I present this little volume of poems before the public, not expecting it will bear the test of severe criticism. ”

“ For often, too often, the tidings you bring,
Cause tears of deep anguish to flow.
Yet we list for the sound of your well known ring
Each day as the time comes round.
Though we know not what tidings your coming will bring,
’Tis ever a welcome sound.
[Pg 45]
THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH.
The light is breaking! ”

“ Now I know that Heaven must ever
Come by earnest pure endeavor!
It must be inwrought!
LIFE.
Men come and go!
Almost before they learn to know
That they are here, they disappear.
Ah! sad ’twould be
If this were all; this mortal life;
These few brief years of pain and strife.
But ’tis not all!
For when we leave this earthly clay
To higher life we soar away.
[Pg 73]
THE BABE’S MISSION.
Upon its mother’s breast a babe lay sleeping ”

“ I am not vain enough to suppose that these little “Zephyrs” will sweep over the spirit with the power of the strong breezes, which are wafted to the soul from the poems of a Longfellow or a Whittier.
Yet, although among the greater lights, the lesser may not prevail, they may, perchance, send out occasional gleams, which shall serve to brighten the way for a few hearts.
KATE R. STILES.
May, 1879.
[Pg 4]
CONTENTS.
[Pg 5]
THE DEAD.
Call them not dead, who leave the earthly for the heavenly state. ”