Poems by Hattie Howard Part 16

But scarce the melancholy sound Has died upon the ear, Before the mournful dirge is drowned By wedding-anthems' glad rebound, That stir the solemn air around With merry peals and clear.

Within our home doth gladness tread So closely upon grief That, in the tears of sorrow shed O'er our beloved, lamented dead, We see reflected joy instead That gives a blest relief.

A father and a daughter gone Beyond our fireside-- For one we loved and leaned upon The skillful archer Death had drawn His bow; and one in life's sweet dawn Went out a happy bride.

We gave to Heaven, in manhood's prime, Him whose brave strength and worth Life's rugged steeps had taught to climb; And her, for whom a tuneful rhyme The bells of promise sweetly chime, We consecrate to earth.

Thus each a mystic path, untried, Has entered--G.o.d is just!

We leave with him our friend who died, With him we leave our fair young bride Who shall no more with us abide, And in His goodness trust.

Oh, life and death, uncertainty, Bright hopes and anxious fears, Commingle so bewilderingly, That perfect joy we may not see Till all shall reunited be Beyond this vale of tears!

Watch Hill.

Fair summer home peninsula, Enriched by every breeze From fragrant islands, wafted far Across the sunny seas!

A profile rare! a height of land Outlined 'gainst heaven's blue With bolder touch than skillful hand Of artist ever drew.

In "mountain billows" that parade The grandeur of the deep, Is His supremacy displayed Whose hands the waters keep.

No sweep of waves, in broad expanse, With wild, weird melody, Shall thus an unseen world enhance-- "There shall be no more sea!"

A wealth of joy-perfected days, Where glorious sunset dyes, Resplendent in declining rays, Surpa.s.s Italia's skies!

Proud caravansaries that compete In studied arts to please The mult.i.tude, with restless feet, From earth's antipodes!

A motley company astray: The sojourner for health, The grave, serene, the _devotee_ Of fas.h.i.+on and of wealth.

Artistic cottages upreared In beauty, strength, and skill-- The happy, healthful homes endeared To lovers of Watch Hill!

A golden crown adorns the spot; Forever blessed be The hand beneficent that wrought "A temple by the sea!"

A star in some bright diadem In glory it shall be, For truly, "I will honor them,"

Saith G.o.d, "who honor me."

When Christians meet to praise and pray, May feet that never trod The sanctuary learn the way Unto the house of G.o.d.

Glad paeans down the centuries With joy the world shall thrill: "The Lord, revered and honored, is The glory of Watch Hill!"

Supplicating.

One morn I looked across the way, And saw you fling your window wide To welcome in the breath of May In breezes from the mountain-side, And greet the sunlight's earliest ray With happy look and satisfied.

The pansies on your window-sill In terra cotta flowerpot, Like royal gold and purple frill Upon the stony cas.e.m.e.nt wrought, Adorned your tasteful domicile And claimed your time and care and thought.

In cherry trees the robins sang Their sweetest carol to your ear, And shouts of merry children rang Out on the dewy atmosphere, But to my heart there came a pang That my salute you did not hear.

I envied then the favored breeze That dallied with your flowing hair, Begrudged the songsters in the trees And longed to be a flow'ret fair-- Some favorite blossom like heartease-- Within your miniature parterre.

O heart, that finds such ample room Within thy confines broad and true, For song and suns.h.i.+ne and perfume And all benign impulses--go, I pray thee, dissipate my gloom-- And take in thy pet.i.tioner too!

"Honest John."

He was a man whose lot was cast, As some might think, in lines severe; In humble toil whose life was pa.s.sed From week to week, from year to year; And yet, by wife and children blessed, He labored on with cheerful zest.

As one revered and set apart, A quaint, unusual name he bore That well became the frugal heart; While plain habiliments he wore Without a tremor or a chill At thought of some uncanceled bill.

A king might not disdain to wear The t.i.tle so appropriate To one who never sought to share Exalted station 'mong the great, Nor cared if on the scroll of fame Were never traced his worthy name.

As bound by honor's righteous law In strictest rect.i.tude he wrought-- The man who calmly, clearly saw His duty, and who dallied not-- To garner life's necessities For those whose comfort heightened his.

The parent bird its brood protects As fledglings in their downy nest, Until a Power their flight directs From trial trips to distant quest, Through trackless zones of ether blue, For bird companions strange and new.

But ere his babes from prattlers grew, Upon his knee or by his side, To womanhood and manhood true-- Too soon we thought--the father died; How could we know, when Death was nigh Those little wings were taught to fly?

Another name his boyhood knew, So seldom heard that lapse of years Had made it seem a thing untrue, Unmusical to friendly ears; And thus his appellation odd His pa.s.sport was where'er he trod.

So long, on every lip and tongue As if by universal whim, To him had his cognomen clung, And like a garment fitted him, That angels even must have heard Of one, like them, in love preferred.

And when he came to Heaven's door, To Peter's self or acolyte, The holy warder looking o'er, "'Tis 'Honest John!'" he said aright; And his pilgrim spirit pa.s.sed within Because his walk with G.o.d had been.

Bushnell Park.

Sweet resting place! that long hath been A boon Elysian 'mid the din Of city life, 'mid city smoke; Where weary ones who toil and spin Have turned aside as to an inn Whose swinging sign a welcome spoke; Where misanthropes find medicine In peals of laughter that begin With ancient, resurrected joke, Or ready wit of harlequin; Where children, free from discipline, Take on Diversion's easy yoke.

Fair oasis! to view aright Its charming paths, its sloping height, Its beautiful and broad expanse, Must one approach in witching night When, like abodes of airy sprite Revealed unto the wondering glance, O'erflooded with electric light Than Luna's beams more dazzling bright, Illumined nooks the scene enhance; While zephyrs mischievous unite The timid stroller to affright By swaying boughs in shadow dance.

The Capitol that crowns the hill Where Boreas sweeps with icy chill, A masterpiece of studied art Conceived by genius versatile And fas.h.i.+oned with unerring skill, O'erlooks the busy, crowded mart, And, like a kingly domicile, Its burnished dome and sculpture thrill With admiration every heart; And strangers pause beyond the rill To view its grandeur, lingering still, And with reluctant steps depart.

O Bushnell Park, memorial soil!

That marks success (though near to foil) Of one who with prophetic ken, With honest zeal and ceaseless toil, Opposed the vandal wish to spoil This lovely bit of vale and glen; Who, 'mid discussion and turmoil Of adverse minds, did not recoil From vigorous stroke of tongue and pen; And then, till pa.s.sion ceased to boil, On troubled waters poured out oil And to his plans won other men.

So when, fatigued and overwrought, In summer time when skies are hot We seek its verdant, velvet sward, Oh may we hold in reverent thought The debt we owe, forgetting not The spirit pa.s.sed to its reward Of one whose giant soul was fraught With true benignity--who sought To touch humanity's quick chord With fire from Heaven's altar brought, That love and zeal and being caught As inspiration from the Lord.