Poems

Thou hast a naiad's charm;
Thy breezes scent the rose's breath;
Old Time gives thee her palm.
The lark's shrill song doth wake the dawn:
The eve-bird's forest flute
Gives back some maiden melody,
Too pure for aught so mute.

The fairy-peopled world of flowers,
Enraptured by thy spell,
Looks love unto the laughing hours,
Through woodland, grove, and dell;
And soft thy footstep falls upon
The verdant grass it weaves;
To melting murmurs ye have stirred
The timid, trembling leaves.

When sunshine beautifies the shower,
As smiles through teardrops seen,
Ask of its June, the long-hushed heart,
What hath the record been?
And thou wilt find that harmonies,
In which the Soul hath part,
Ne'er perish young, like things of earth,
In records of the heart.

RONDELET

The flowers of June
The gates of memory unbar:
The flowers of June
Such old-time harmonies retune,
I fain would keep the gates ajar, —
So full of sweet enchantment are
The flowers of June.

    – James T. White.

Who loves not June
Is out of tune
With love and God;
The rose his rival reigns,
The stars reject his pains,
His home the clod!

And yet I trow,
When sweet rondeau
Doth play a part,
The curtain drops on June;
Veiled is the modest moon —
Hushed is the heart.

AUTUMN

Quickly earth's jewels disappear;
The turf, whereon I tread,
Ere autumn blanch another year,
May rest above my head.

Touched by the finger of decay
Is every earthly love;
For joy, to shun my weary way,
Is registered above.

The languid brooklets yield their sighs,
A requiem o'er the tomb
Of sunny days and cloudless skies,
Enhancing autumn's gloom.

The wild winds mutter, howl, and moan,
To scare my woodland walk,
And frightened fancy flees, to roam
Where ghosts and goblins stalk.

The cricket's sharp, discordant scream
Fills mortal sense with dread;
More sorrowful it scarce could seem;
It voices beauty fled.

Yet here, upon this faded sod, —
O happy hours and fleet, —
When songsters' matin hymns to God
Are poured in strains so sweet,

My heart unbidden joins rehearse,
I hope it's better made,
When mingling with the universe,
Beneath the maple's shade.

    Written in girlhood, in a maple grove.

ALPHABET AND BAYONET

If fancy plumes aerial flight,
Go fix thy restless mind
On learning's lore and wisdom's might,
And live to bless mankind.
The sword is sheathed, 'tis freedom's hour,
No despot bears misrule,
Where knowledge plants the foot of power