Will Carleton

“ And Bess, sly love-athlete, was suited first rate
At a flirtation-mill with this legal light-weight;
And was listening to him, as minutes spun on,
Of pleas he could make,
And of fees he would take,
And of suits that he should, in the future, have won;
When just as the cold, heartless clock counted eight,
Miss Bessie's quick ear caught a step at the gate.
"'Tis mother!" she cried: "oh, go quick, I implore!
But father'll drive 'round and come in the back-door!
You can not escape them, however you turn!
So hide for a while—let me see—in this churn!" ”

“ To see that all your diamonds were saved!
'Tis the best joy that any one can ask—
To give to others what himself has craved.
Whoe'er can teach you life's most brilliant art,
To make the most of body, mind, and heart—
Will feel that fact, his inmost being bless,
More than the costliest jewels of success!
Sometimes there comes a blessed word of cheer
From yonder region where the sun shines high;
It brings a joy, it casts out every fear;
It is the motto of th' eternal sky!
Be true, be brave, be faithful; let your heart
With worldly joys and sorrows take their part ”

“ But too weary the march, or too heavy the load;
And they laid down their armor and died on the road.
Whatever the splendors and joys of to-day,
Whatever the flowers that may flash in our way,
Whatever our joy at assembling once more,
Though God in his love grant the same o'er and o'er,
We will always remember, with sweet love bestowed,
The names of those comrades who fell on the road.
The flags of our triumphs shall droop at half mast,
For those whom the future claimed out of the past!
Not as youths now we meet, but grave women and men ”

“ And 'tis no more nor less, my child, than children ever have done.
So you joined hands with one you loved, when we to the cross-road came,
And went your way, as Heaven did say, and who but Heaven to blame?
You must not weep that he you chose was all the time untrue,
Or stab with hate the man whose heart you thought was made for you.
The love God holds for your bright soul is more to get and give
Than all the love of all of the men while He may bid them live. ”

“ Why should for her and for her smiles your heart a moment hunger?
What though her shape be trim as mine, her face a trifle younger?
She does not look so young to you as I when we were wed;
She can not speak more sweet to you than words that I have said;
She can not love you half so well as I, when all is done;
And she is not your wedded wife—the mother of your son.
O Rob, you smile and toss your head; you mock me in your soul ”

“ But let me pour into its depth my words of burning passion!
Ay, let my hot and yearning lips, that long have yearned in vain,
But press her pure and sacred cheek, and wander in her tresses;
And let my tears no more be lost, but on her forehead rain,
And she will rise and pity me, and soothe me with caresses;
So let her come to me.
O silver-crested days agone, that wove us in one heart!
O golden future years, that urged our hands to clasp in striving!
There is not that in earth or sky can hold us two apart ”

“ But felt the cloud of Death upon his heart?
But when we thought how his unfettered soul,
Free from his poor sick body's weak control,
Pluming its wings at the Eternal throne,
Might take through realms of space its rapid flight,
And find a million joys to us unknown,
The cloud was rifted by a ray of light.
Old class of '69! together, still,
We've journeyed up the rough and toilsome hill;
Seeking the gems to labor ne'er denied,
Plucking the fruits that deck the mountain-side.
Now, in the glory of this summer day,
We part, and each one goes his different way. ”

“ Alice, the country maiden, with the sweet, loving face,
Sung these words to an old air, with an unstudied grace:
There's nothing like an old tune, when friends are far apart,
To 'mind them of each other, and draw them heart to heart.
New strains across our senses on magic wings may fly,
But there's nothing like an old tune to make the heart beat high.
The scenes we have so oft recalled when once again we view,
Have lost the smile they used to wear, and seem to us untrue;
We gaze upon their faded charms with disappointed eye;
And there's nothing like an old tune to make the heart beat high. ”

“ Shall we deem that life's dream is a toil and a snare?
Shall we lie down and die on the couch of despair?
Shall we throw needless woe on our sad heart bereft?
Or, grown tearfully wise, look with pain-chastened eyes at the joys that are left?
For the tree that we see on the landscape so fair,
When we hie to it nigh, may be fruitless and bare;
While the vine that doth twine 'neath the blades of the gross,
With sweet nourishment rife, holds the chalice of life toward our lips as we pass. ”

“ Which opens wide the generous heart and hand.
Love for the worthy living, our hearts' guide;
Love for the worthy dead, his dark-veiled bride.
Love for the living martyrs of the land,
And garlands for the dead, go hand in hand.
So, while we deck the brave ones that are gone,
Our hearts for those who live, beat truly on.
When a man throws the treasures of his life
Into the Land's fierce, self-preserving strife,
Let him be sure, in the world's battles grim,
When war is o'er, the Land will fight for him!
So shall God's blessing mingle with these flowers,
And love of dead and living both be ours ”

“ And 'tis denied from him to hide, excepting in the grave.
Who will avenge you, darling? Your sister, the sky above.
Each cloud she floats above you shall be a token of love;
She will bend o'er you at night-fall her pure broad breast of blue,
And every gem that glitters there shall flash a smile to you.
And all her great wide distances to your good name belong;
'Tis not so far from star to star as 'twixt the right and wrong!
Who will avenge you, darling? All the breezes that blow. ”

“ Then swam back in triumph—the pride of all nations—
And hero of—several school declamations!
If we used these fierce stories our courage to feed,
And learned that Resolve is the master of need,
If we made up our minds that success is a prize [126]
That under the rubbish of hard labor lies,
That like Rome, with its victory-banners unfurled,
We would fight till we conquered our share of the world,
But unlike old Rome, we would not settle down,
And let Sloth and Luxury tarnish our crown,
Then we gained o'er ourselves a good influence vast,
From that savage old land—in our march through the past. ”

“ Higher and higher things of us demand!
So let us cut our own progressive way—
So onward toil, through darkness and through day;
So let us in our labor persevere,
Unspoiled by praise—untouched by blame or fear;
Learn to distinguish, with true, patient art,
The private pocket from The Public Heart;
Learn how to guide that Heart, in every choice,
And give its noblest thoughts its purest voice!
Till so The Press The Public Heart may move,
That day by day they mutually improve:
That high and higher each the other bring,
Till God Himself shall be The Sanctum King! ”

“ For the flowers of true love never grew
In the soil of a faithless heart.
Look next that the buds of health shall rest
Their blossoms upon your cheek;
For life and love are a burden at best,
If the body be sick and weak.
Look next that your kitchen fire be bright,
And your hands be neat and skilled;
For the love of man oft takes its flight,
If his stomach be not well filled!
Look next that your money is fairly earned,
Ere ever it be spent;
For comfort and love, however turned,
Will ne'er pay six per cent. ”

“ The men lift children up to see
The arms of the man who was good for three;
The women gaze and hold their breath,
For the man looks kingly even in death.
They have gone to their homes anear and far—
Their joys and griefs, their loves and hating:
Some to sunder the ties that are,
And some to cooing and wooing and mating.
They will pet and strike, they will strive and blunder,
And leer at their woes with innocent wonder;
They will swiftly sail love's delicate bark,
With never a helm, in the dangerous dark;
They will ne'er quite get it understood
That the Pauper's woes were for their good. ”

“ But ne'er, by any turn of fortune, true?
Who comments on our mode of writing makes,
And tenderly announces our mistakes?
Who occupies, with sweet, unconscious air,
Three-fourths of all the room we have to spare,
And with a cheerful, love-begetting smile,
Kills his own time, and murders us meanwhile?
Who shows us, with unnecessary pains,
The sharp things that some other sheet contains?
Who hands us every word, from far and near,
That he against our enterprise can hear? ”

“ They did not love the living as do we!
II.
The Romans loved their soldier dead,
And brightest, grandest honors o'er them spread.
That hard, grim nation, which with fierce iron hand
Clasped by the choking throat land after land,
And blood of its own living freely shed,
Grew strangely tender with its warrior dead.
The past was dragged for deeds of might and fame,
To hang in garlands on the golden name;
The magic silver of some gifted tongue
Chaplets of praise above his body flung;
And words fell on the living, listening ear,
The dead might well awaken but to hear. ”

“ Why should a joy be more a joy because, forsooth, 'tis hid?
How can a kiss be more a kiss because it is forbid?
Why should the love you get from her be counted so much gain,
When every smile you give to her but adds unto my pain?
O Rob, you say there is no guilt betwixt the girl and you:
Do you not know how slack of vows may break the bond that's dearest?
You twirl a plaything in your hand, not minding what you do,
And first you know it flies from you, and strikes the one that's nearest.
So do not spoil so hopelessly you ne'er may cease your ruing ”

“ Now, rouse you, and dig for this city a fiery and desolate grave!
Freight heavy with grief and with wailing her world-scattered pride and renown!
Charge straight on her mansions of splendor, and battle her battlements down!
And we, the strong South-wind and West-wind, with thrice-doubled fury possessed,
Will sweep with you over this city, this Queen of the North and the West! ”

“ They seek thy love; they wither 'neath thy hate;
With anxious hearts thy verdicts they await.
That statesman, who unflinching can withstand
His foeman's broadsides, with brave self-command,
That lawyer, who can bully at the bar
Judge, witness, jury—no odds who they are—
That doctor, who has sallied forth thro' storms,
To fight with Death, in all his moods and forms,
That general, who, when battle-banners wave,
Can spur his foaming charger toward the grave,
All these, when interviewers near them glide,
Sometimes, like startled children, run and hide. ”

“ Feet that have trodden, through love-lighted ways,
Near to your own, in the old happy days;
Feet that have pressed, in Life's opening morn,
Roses of pleasure, and Death's poisoned thorn.
Swiftly they rushed to the help of the right,
Firmly they stood in the shock of the fight.
Ne'er shall the enemy's hurrying tramp
Summon them forth from their death-guarded camp;
Ne'er, till Eternity's bugle shall sound,
Will they come out from their couch in the ground. ”

“ Then sadly smile, and vanish from the gaze.
And some I loved beyond all words' control,
And some I hated with an uncurbed soul
(For he who likes this world, and means to stay,
Must yearn, and toil, and love, and fight his way) .
All this was for the best; and now in love
We look at those who once awakened ire;
If we but lift our hearts and souls above,
The crushing waves will only lift us higher. ”

“ Of men to live when lesser men expire;
Knew how they struggle, e'en with latest breath,
To make their names o'erbridge the gulf of death;
Knew the last rites to one dead hero paid
Would sharpen many a living warrior's blade;
Knew how your victory-accustomed bands
Were waved along by their dead comrades' hands!
Yet not like ours that Roman love could be:
They did not love the living as do we! ”

“ He will rush at your avenging as if it were his own.
His every sin is but a knot that yet shall hold him fast;
For guilty hands but twine the strands that fetter them at last.
Lay thee aside thy grief, darling!—lay thee aside thy grief!
And Happiness will cheer thee beyond all thy belief!
As oft as winter comes summer, as sure as night comes day,
And as swift as sorrow cometh, so swift it goeth away!
E'en in your desolation you are not quite unblest:
Not all who choose may count their woes upon a mother's breast.
[40]
ROB, THE PAUPER.
I.
Rob, the Pauper, is loose again. ”