xt72fq9q2j8j https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt72fq9q2j8j/data/mets.xml McKinney, Kate Slaughter, 1857- 1887  books b92-235-31281054 English Printed by the Courier-Journal Job Printing Company, : [Louisville, Ky., Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Katydid's poems  : with a letter by Jno. Aug. Williams / Kate Slaughter McKinney. text Katydid's poems  : with a letter by Jno. Aug. Williams / Kate Slaughter McKinney. 1887 2002 true xt72fq9q2j8j section xt72fq9q2j8j 













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WITH A LETTER BY



JtIll-AlA- williD(M5.
        11 I ".x " to,
        ol ' "I", 1011

 






























ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1887, Nv

       MRS. J. I. MzKINNEY (" KATYDID ")
       IN THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN AT WASHINGTON.



PRINTED flY THE COURIER-JOURNAL JOB8 PRINTING COMPANY.

 














         Debicateb


              TO


J. T. McKINNEY.



To hirrl whose every word is oqe of praise,
  Who loves to linger where ryy thoughts have been,
And who delights irl all my rhyming ways,
  I offer first these efforts of my pen.

 






              Lu'rPz        ro gtYSID




DEAR KATIDID:
   I am more pleased with your lines than when I first read them;
they are intensely womanly, natural, musical and sweet-they are
absolutely free from affectation, only the restraint of rhyme and
measure seem to deprive your muse of perfect freedom and grace.
There is also a delicacy of thought and fancy, and of purity of sen-
timent that pervades the whole like the sweetest perfume.
   No one can listen to your " Chirpings" and feel like touching
the bough from which you sing with a rude, critical hand; he would
rather listen through the live-long night to the end of your song.
   I remember well your first attempt at rhyme while a girl here at
school; even then, there was a pleasing promise of a beautiful and
useful pen; and I am glad that you have found time and opportu-
nity to improve your early gift.  I am glad, too, that you have been
persuaded to give some of your sweet little poems to the press; the
tender, the true, and the pure of heart will read them with delight.

                        Affectionately your friend,

                                         JNO. AUG. WILLIAMS.
    DAUGHTER'S COLLEGE,
             Harrodsburg, Ky.

 




0  X OONTENTS



                                                               PAGE,
To A Katydid ................. ....         7
A Day Dream ................ . . . .... 9
The Old Ravine (Illustrated.).... . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . 11
Some Day You'll Wish For Me. . . . ... . . . .. . . . . . . .. . 12
To H allie.. . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . . .  ..  13
I've Asked You to Forget Me . . ............... . . . 14
LittleBlanche. . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . 15
The LittleFront Gate. . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . i6
Drifting               .        .       .       .6...... . . . 16
Looking Back . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. .  17
Scotta.    . . .... . . .  . . .. . . . . . . . .  . . . . .  .. i8
The Lover and Flower . . ................... . . . 20
My Cloud. ........................... 22
The Decision               .       .      .       ...... . .. 23
Autumn                 .        .       .       ......... . 25
A Sister's Love . . ..................... . . . 26
In Memory of Nannie Johnson White  . . .... . . . 26
The Heliotrope's Soliloquy        . . .             ..... . . . 27
A Problem . .             .       .a.S................... .. . . 28
My Palace (Illustrated.)... . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .    29
Death of Summer . . ............. .. ....  33
Spring and Summer . .  .................... . . . 34
Under the Snow ................................................. . .     35
The Prettiest Girl in Town.   ....... . . .... ,         ..    ..  36
I Am Musing To-night            .      .     .      ...... ... 37
A Curl                 .       .        .       ... . . . .. . . 38
Somebody's Face .      ....           ......                     39
Good-bye, Maggie             .      .      .      ...... ... . 40
The Hermit's Farewell (Illustrated.)  . ..41
A Window I Love              ..                   .43
Thistle Down .........  . ............... . 44
Bitter Memories . . ........... ............ . . 45
An Acrostic               .       .       .       ..... . .. 46
My Angel Visitor . . . .................. .47
Keep a Bright Face, Darling . . ... . I .......... . .. 48



My Neighbor's Mill. . . . .. . .



.. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . 49

 


Vi.                       CONTEN7S.
                                                               PAGE-
DrippingSprings . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . 51
In Memoriam ............................ 53
The Old Orchard Trees .....   .. . . . . .. . . .  .  ......     54
On the Hill-top Grow the Daisies..... . . . .. . . . . . .    ..  95
Ella Lee.. .... ...................... 56
What is the West Wind Saying ......... ... .. ... .. . 58
To a Mountain Stream ....................... . 59
Pen Pictures.. .                            ... .. 6o
To Mother ......... ...... 6z
The Broken Heart ...................... . .. 63
A Year Ago.............. . . ..                                  65
A Christmas Peep..    ...........                     . . .. 66
Winnie's Christmas Eve..... .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .  .   .   68
My Heart's LittleRoom ....  .. . . . . .. . . . . . . .  .   ..  69
The Three Muses ............. .... .... . .. 71
A Recollection....  . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . .  .       . 72
Don't Question Him Why . ...... . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Why ........... ...... . . ........ . .. .. 74
A Sunset Longing . . .............. . .. .. .. .. 74
Journeys ........... ...... ........ .... . . 76
The Lost Poem ........... .. ........ . ... . .. 78
A Maple Leaf ................ .......... . . 8o
A Gallop With Santa Claus .............. .  . .i. .. 8
Home Memories ..                   ..                          . 83
Sunshine and Shadow (Illustrated.) . . .......... .. ... 85
Only a Fern Leaf              .     .     .     .     .... .. 87
A Dream                  ..... . . . . . .. 88
Those Soft Airs She Played . . . ..... ... ....... . .. 89
To Albert. . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . .  .. .  9 1
The Reunion of the Flowers. .                .    .    .         92
Children of the Brain..                       .            ... 94
A Lily of the Valley    . . .                   .     .96
Lines to Lhe Oid Year . . . ................. . . . 97
Why I Smile. ..................                       .     ... 98
My Phantom Ships ....... . . 99
The Weight of a Word...                               ..         io
An Apology                .      .     .     .      .. . . .. 103
Speak Kindly ....             .... .                     .... ..... . 104
Those Willing Hands            .     .    .     .     .     .... r.... 106
Look Into the Past            .     .     .     .    .. .. . .. 107
A Little Face. . .             .......... 108
The Canary and Rose .  . . . .. . . . . . . .  . . . . . . .. .. og
A Sigh or aTear . . . ..  . .. . . . . . . .. ..  . ..  .. . . . nlo
Snow-flakes. .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . 112
AFoot-print.. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .  . . 113

 



 KATYDID'S + POEMS.









    I LTTLE friend among the tree-tops,
         Chanting low your vesper hymns,
             Never tiring,
             Me inspiring,
         Seated 'neath the swaying limbs,
    Do you know your plaintive calling,
    When the summer dew is falling,
    Echoes sweeter through my brain
    Than any soft, harmonic strain

    Others call you an intruder,
      Say discordant notes you know;
             Or that sadness,
             More than gladness,
      From your little heart doth flow;
    And that you awake from sleeping
    Thoughts in quiet they were keeping,
    Faithless love, or ill-laid schemes,
    Hopes unanchored-broken dreams.

    No such phantoms to my vision
      Doth your lullaby impart,
             But sweet faces,
             No tear traces,
      Smile as joyous in my heart,
    As when first at mother's knee
    Learned I your sweet mystery.
    I defend you with my praises,
    For your song my soul upraises.

 

8  A TYDIL S POEMS.



Do you wonder that at twilight
  Always by my cottage door
          I am seated
          You've repeated
  Oft'ner still those tunes of yore;
And I love them, love your scanning
And your noisy tree-top planning;
Though you struggle with a rhyme,
In due season comes the chime.

Oft I fancy when your neighbors,
  In some secret thicket hid,
          Are debating,
          Underrating
  What that little maiden did,
That above their clamsrous singing
I can hear your accents ringing,
Like a voice that must defend
From abuse some time-loved friend.

Though the nightingale and swallow
  Through the poet's measures sing,
          No reflection
          Of dejection
  Petrifies or palls your wing.
In the calm and holy moonlight,
On and on with hours of midnight,
In the darkness, in the rain,
Still you whisper your refrain.

Dream I not of fame or fortune,
  Only this I inward crave,
          Sweet assurance,
          Long endurance,
  Of a love beyond the grave.
Should my songs die out and perish,
You'll my name repeat and cherish;
Though all trace is lost of me,
Still you'll call from tree to tree,



KATYDID.



8

 
KATYDIIYS POEMS.



           erjy-Drcarn



 N'I looking in a mirror, Belle,
   lThe mirror of our past;
And many a bright reflection, Belle,
  Into its depth is cast;
Reflections that are calm and clear,
And 0! to us so very dear.

I see a village-old Kirksville-
  Its long and narrow street,
And as it climbs upon the hill,
  How many friends I meet!
And, Belle, your face smiles out to me --
The sweetest face that I can see.

There is my home hid 'mong the trees
  Back of the village street,
A welcome rushes on the breeze,
  And restless grow my feet;
My heart leaps forward, and I view
The dearest spot I ever knew.

Home! home again! and, children, we
  Skip through the pastures green;
Your eyes of blue I plainly see-
  " The sweetest ever seen; "
And on your cheek the rosy tinge;
And curls of gold your temples fringe.

And see the dogs we used to pet;
  Down through the lawn they run;
Not many passing by, forget
  Their bark, or fail to shun-
Old Carlo of the greyhound race.,
And Lion with his vicious face.

Yet us they follow to the hedge,
  Where hours with them we've played;
And to the pond, along whose edge,



9

 


IO                      KA TYDID'S POEMS.
                  Barefooted, we would wade.
               Decorum could not cramp the brain,
               And Love unlocked his golden chain.

               We climb upon my father's barn,
                  Hide in the straw and hay;
               We watch aunt "Silvy" spinning yarn
                  In the old-fashioned way.
               She tells us tales by candle light,
               That fill our hearts with wild delight.

               A shadow falls; I lose your face;
                  Lost is the fairy-tale;
               And just before my eyes I trace
                  A kind of airy veil;
               A network that is strangely planned,
               Held by the Present's cunning hand.
               The shadow now has passed away;
                  I glance the meshes through,
               And find strange children there at play
                  Beside your knee; one, two-
               The little faces both foretell
               A happy future for you, Belle.

               Long, long I gaze. That pretty view
                  Dissolves away in air,
               And still I'm looking, Belle, for you,
                  And still I'm standing there;
               I strive your image to retrace-
               All, all has vanished but my face.

               And closing 'round me as before,
                  I see a figured wall,
                A carpet blue upon the floor,
                  And sunlight over all.
               Bewildered, yet entranced I seem,
               And 'waken from a sweet day-dream.

 
KATYDID'S POEMS.



           4UST back of my dear old home
           .J   it rolled,
           .With many a crumpled and rocky
                 fold,
Hedged 'round with cherry and locust trees
Their strong arms toyed with the breeze-
Like knights arrayed for march or fig .t
They stood with waving plumes of white.



And 0! that valley's inmost room
Was a mass of ivy and violet bloom;
The larkspur shook from its purple crest
A dew-drop down on the lily's breast;
The blue-bell dozed on the rivulet's brink,
And the myrtle leaned o'er the edge to drink.

Even now, as I write, through the open door
I catch a sound of the cataract's roar,
And see the girls just out from school
Knee-deep in the ravine's limpid pool;
And the boys, ah, me! how plain can I see
Them stealing the bark from the slippery tree.

The door slams back, it is scarce apart;
With steady eye and fluttering heart,



I I



                   I 1) q,.
Tbq, 91d RwOi

 
2  KATYD/VS POEMS.



  I watch the girls up the valley turn,
  In search of peppermint and fern;
  And the boys are waving their caps to me,
  As they stand in that ragged and torn old tree.

  In some wild way. I never knew how,
  I climbed to the swing on that elm tree's bough;
  Was twitt'ring a song as I used to do,
  And counting the clouds in the sky's soft blue,
  When the girls came out from the valley's shade,
  And earth into heaven seemed then to fade.

  'Twas the Eden of old, and I was a child
  (I have thought of it since and often have smiled);
  Sitting there in the swing, with the girls at my feet,
  And the boys overhead-my joy was complete;
  What a mockery, then, to awaken and part
  With the happy illusion-how hollow my heart!





Saon) IDay youl WISB for Me.

              FOR


COME day, my darling. when the rose has died,
    That on your pathway throws its petals sweet,
When the sharp thorn is springing near your side
  And nettles pierce the mould beneath your feet,
                     You'll wish for me.

Some day, my darling, when the crystal cup
  Of Beauty shattered lies, and spilled its wine;
When Pleasure's urn denies your lips one sup,
  And you drink deep of Disappointment's brine,
                     You'll wish for me.

Some day the wreath will wilt upon your head;
  You'll smell the bud and find a worm within.
Some day, my darling, when your friends have fled,
  And strangers mock your frequent tears, ah! then
                     You'll wish for me.



1 2

 
               KA TYDILYS POEMS.                    13

Some day, my darling, when Death's dews fall cold
  Upon your brow, you'll gladly Jet me come-
When dreams present the shroud that must enfold
  Your limbs, and your sweet lips grow chill and e irnb,
                     You'll wish for me.

You'll long for him whose hands were oft denied
  To pluck a rose lest they the bush pollute-
Yet he would come and stand a slave aside.
  To grasp the bramble and the thorn uproot,
                     If you but wished for him.

He'd kiss your limbs the hidden briar had torn,
  And bathe the wounds with Pity's saddest tear;
He'd close your eves that ne'er till death had worn
  For him one look of love, and at your bier
                     He'd kneel and pray

For strength to watch you hidden from his sight,
  For strength to turn aside and leave you there
Clasped in the arms of everlasting night;
  And yet, my darling, not as great despair
                     He'd feel than now.






               To f1a11ie.

             WRITTEN FOR



      AD and cheerless stands the homestead
          In its grandeur as of old;
      'Tis a casket-lost, the jewel;
        'Tis a mine without its gold.

      Once a sunbeam at the doorway
        Gilded room and gladdened hall;
      Making life a golden summer,
        Full of joy for each and all.

 
             AfATYDJYS POEMS.

     But the sunshine that has vanished
     Ne'er can brighten o'er us more,
     Though I bow in meek submission
     Yet my heart is sad and sore.

     I have lost my life's sweet treasure,
     Earth holds nothing dear for me;
   'Upward, onward," be my motto,
      Onward, upward, still to thee.

    Hallie! be my guarding angel.
      Teach my footsteps not to stray;
    Spread your sainted wings above me,
      Lead me in ' the narrow way,"

    So that you can come and meet me-
      Waft me heavenward on your breast,
   "W-here the wicked cease from troubling,
      And the weary are at rest."






1'vOe cAsked You f6 P0Pgef Be.



        'VE asked you to forget me,
          To let our happy past
      Ne'er be recalled; for ah! it was
        Too sweet, too bright! to last.

      But yet you say that you're my friend,
        And still as fond and true;
      While I ne'er care to see thy face,
        Or have one thought of you.

      Then ne'er again recall those days
        When roguish Cupid played
      At twining garlands 'round ouir hearts
        Only to wilt and fade;



i4

 

         KATYDIJYS POEMS.                     IC

  For I have with a steady hand,
    Not heeding Love's sweet art,
  Unwound them from their resting place
    And freed your faithless heart.






       Liftiie, Jlacbe.



I ATHER up the broken playthings,
F Scattered on the nursery floor;
Blanche is gone !-her little fingers
  Ne'er will fondle with them more.

Hide away the dolls, the dishes-
  Precious treasures! 0! so dear!
Lay aside the little dresses-
  In each fold a mother's tear.

God hath given-God hath taken,
  Though it rends the heart in twain,
He but sends his frowns upon us,
  To give back his smiles again.

She hath gone to 'wait your coming,
  Smiling where the angels stand;
Lingering there at heaven's gateway,
  That she first may clasp your hand.

 
KA TYDflyS POEMS.



    Fiji LifleO PP09 Coded.


    WAY from the world and its bustle,
A     When the daylight grows pleasant and late;
In our own cosy cot, I am waiting
   For the slam of the little front gate.

The birds at the doorway are singing,
  The roses their beauty debate;
But I sit here alone, and I listen
  For the slam of the little front gate.

Sometimes, ere the shadows of twilight
  Send the roving bird home to its mate,
I list for a hurrying footstep,
  And the slam of the little front gate.

0! you who are burdened with sorrow,
  And believe that life is but fate,
Learn from me there is joy in waiting
  For the slam of the little front gate.





              Drffl .



COTTA, you are drifting from me,
    O'er the billows of life's tide;
You and I have sailed together,
  With our frail barks side by side.

You are drifting with the current,
  But my feeble oar is light,
Too light to follow; and, in anguish,
  I must watch you drift from sight.

Drifting, gliding, moving onward,
  Tide and sky seem one deep l.ue;

 
KAATYDiD'S POEMfS.



    All in vain my eyes are yearning,
      You have drifted from my view.

   But there's yet a broader current,
      Where our meeting barks will land;
   You and I still bound together,
      Heart to heart, and hand to hand.







            Ls00oIp5 Pac



  [ HE opened a little worn package,
     Scarred yellow by Time's ruthless hand;
 Disclosing a bundle of letters
   Tied up with a pale ribbon band.

"These," she said, "are like leaves from a fernery,
   Long pressed in a book with a flower;
 And the memories wafted up from them,
   Like perfume that follows a shower.

 "With no wormwood or gaN in the essence,
   Few tares in life's garden were sown;
 The clouds partly hiding the sunshine,
   Some weeds with the blossoms have grown.

 But we loved"-here she held out a picture;
   A tear-drop was dimming her eye,
 As a cloud will o'ershadow the landscape,
   Or shut out a star in the sky.

 I took up a ring and a locket,
   Set deep with a ruby and pearl;
 The clasp was all tarnished and broken,
   And tear-stained the face of the girl,

 Whose eyes were awake in Hope's morning,
   Love kindled their depths with his spark-
 Even then, from the red velvet lining,
   They glowed like a gem in the dark



17

 
KATYDIZYS POEMS.



I turned to the sad little figure,
  'Round the package the faded cord tied;
Pressed my lips to her cheek-ah, how sadly
  The roses had bloomed there and died.

Long we sat in the lingering twilight,
  Looking back o'er the vanishing years;
She sobbed out her grief on my bosom,
  And moistened my brow with her tears.

What comfort in words could I offer
  There was more in a soul-telling glance;
For each heart hath its season of springtime,
  Each heart hath a buried romance.






                 Sceffe.



  I SAWV her last night in a vision
     (How often she comes when I dream!)
  Through the garden of Heaven she loitered,
    Then stood by a clear, placid stream.

  And out of the heart of the river
    A bunch of white lilies she drew,
  I scarce could discern from the blossoms
    Her fingers, so waxen their hue.

  But her face wore the same quiet features,
    And her smile was enhancing the light
  That fellpn this friend of my bosom,
    This angel robed softly in white.

  I longed to reach upward and touch her,
    To ask why the flowers she twined;
  Wondered often for whom was the garland,
    And the crown with the lily buds lined.



is

 

            KATYDID'S POEMS.                      19

 So I cried and my voice soared onward
   Farther than sight could extend-
;For whom are you weaving this chaplet 
   Speak, Scotta! sweet spirit and friend."

 0! tell me just why from the portals
   Of Heaven you've wandered away,
 And sit here alone by the river
   Wreathing these lilies to-day."

 Her lips parted, as if for an answer--
   Then a cluster of cherubim came-
 They hovered about this sweet seraph,
   And whispered in concert a name.

 It resounded along Heaven's archway,
   But soft on my ear that word fell,
 Soft as her accents of friendship,
   Soft as a Sabbath eve bell.

 And the dewdrops and spray of the river
   On the garlands to crystals had turned,
 The crown she embedded with snow-drops,
   One jewel there glittered and burned.

 Its luster was brilliant and sunlike,
   As burnished as those in the throne,
 But the name that her own gentle fingers
   Had carved there, ah! me, was-my own.

 And what if Life's thorns pressed my temples
   Or sorrow to midnight turns day,
 I will press on alone through the darkness,
   Believing her hand leads the way.

 I will traverse the chill " Swamp of Cypress
   Where the " Rivers of Death" slowly wind;
 For she'll beckon me over with garlands,
   And the crown with the lily buds lined.

 
0KATYDJffS POEMS.



   The    Ls02Pe arA     Rlovter.



   FOUND it. one day, in a pretty shade
   Which a vine and a maple together made;
'Twas blooming away in a dress of white,
With eyes of a blue transparent light.
I knelt at its shrine,
And this heart of mine
Drank in the fragrance as one drinks wine.

Then I said, " Sweet flower, this cooling shade
With the summer weather will dim and fade,
There's a place in my heart-a cozy room-
Where you may nestle and grow and bloom."
Thus I wooed the flower,
In this shady bower,
And lovers we were that self-same hour.

I carried it home, I pruned it with care,
I gave it the sun and the morning air.
The honey bees came its dew to sip,
But I drove them away with pouting lip;
For I loved my flower,
And with jealous power
I banished the bees from our curtained bower

A butterfly came on wings of lace,
And tried to fan my blossom's face;
But I brushed it away with cruel hands,
And tore from its wings the velvet bands;
Then I kissed my flower;
But a summer shower
Burst from the clouds with mesmeric power.

Then the pale little blossom heaved a sigh,
And opened a blue and timid eye
To thank the cloud as it did in the shade,
Which the vine and the maple together made;



20

 


KA TYDILYS POE1MS.



2 I



But my heart would rebel;
I could not quell
Its raging fire-it seemed from hell.

I slammed the shutters with curses of doom;
I made it dark as a dungeon room,
Then I hurried away like a thief in the night;
But I strolled again in the warm sunlight,
And another flower
From Fashion's own bower
I culled, and nursed it only an hour.

It proved but a weed with a gaudy bloom,
And a poisonous odor filled my room.
So I turned once more to my wildwood flower,
That I locked in my heart that sinful hour,
When the angel of love,
To its mansion above,
Had fluttered away like a wounded dove.

How softly I turned the key in my heart;
One moment I faltered-the door swung apart-
A faint, sweet essence, like heliotrope bloom,
Was sick'ning my senses; I moved through the room
With a staggering tread,
With a brain reeling head,
And swooned there-a murd'rer-my flower was-dead.

 
KATYDID'S POEMS.



my Cleud-Tf0 gc0ffe


THERE'S a cloud on my life's horizon
   Of wonderful shape and hue,
Like the feathery down of a snow-drift
  'Tis dimpled with changeful blue.
I gaze on its shadowy outline
  And drink in the calm of the skies,
Till I fancy it floats out of heaven,
  As an angel in disguise.

No slumbering storm in its bosom,
  No hint of the lightning's glare,
Only a feast for the heart and soul
  Is this treasure of the air;
For I know from its silvery edges,
  And glimpses of hidden gold,
That a picture of rare tranquility
  Its tender depths enfold.

Else whence is this mystic feeling
  Of peace that's stealing o'er me 
Like the magic of summer moonlight
  Enchanting a restless sea.
O! heavenly cloud! why are you
  So calm so angelic you seem,
My spirit escapes in its longing-
  I am lost in a beautiful dream.

Up, up on the wings of a swallow
  Piercing the heaven's deep blue,
O'er meadow and mount I am rising,
  And floating, sweet spirit, to you;
Onward, in trance I am wafted,
  Now into the cloudlet above;
And a face smiles out from its drapery,
  And ah! 'tis a face that I love.



22

 KATYDiJYS POEMS.



         Tbe Decisie9.



J DISPUTE once arose in a bee-hive
     As to which of the little brown bees
Could gather the sweetest nectar
  From blossoms or budding trees.

The queen tried in vain to discover
  Some method the riot to quell;
But a challenge for war had been sounded,
  And threatened was each honey cell.

So she spoke in a voice most persuasive-
" He shall sit on my throne for an hour,
Who brings from the store-house of nature,
  The juice of the sweetest-lipped flower."

Away flew the brown little workers,
  Away out of sight o'er the hill;
Then backward and forward they flitted,
  The honey-cups eager to fill.

One famished the heart of a lily,
  And drank from its milky bud;
One opened the vein of a rose leaf,
  And licked up the crimson blood.

To a poppy-bed still one hurried,
  On a downy cot he crept,
But all day in the silken blankets,
  Unconscious there he slept.

Another flew off to the meadow,
  And punctured the daisy's cap;
A swarm had encompassed a fountain,
  Where gurgled the sugar-tree sap.

A fourth and a fifth to a mansion
  Had followed a bridal pair;
One strangled the bud on her bosom,
  One mangled the wreath on her hair.



23

 

24                     KAT YDIDS POEMS.
            But the sixth one paused at a cottage,
               Where a sick girl sleeping lay;
            And there by the open window,
               Blossomed a hyacinth spray.

            A youth stood near in the shadows,
               And watching the dreamer's face,
            A tear rolled down from his eyelid
               And fell on the hyacinth vase.

            It was only the work of a moment
               For a busy bee to do,
            To flavor affections tear-drop
               With the extract, "flower-dew."

            So he gathered this precious honey,
               And, polishing up his sting.
            He flitted out of the window,
               With gold dust under his wing.

            Such a night in the little bee-hive
               Before was never known;
            For the hyacinth's rich moist pollen
               Had paved the way to the throne.

 

         KATYDIJYS POEMS.                     25



           JutLun)i).


W HO is it that paints the woodlands
     Like a gorgeous gown of gold;
Dropping, here and there, a ripple
  Of vermilion in each fold
Who is it that calls the robins
  And the blackbirds into bands;
Pointing them with flaming fingers,
  To the sunny, Southern lands -

What has scorched the tender blossoms 
  In our 3 ards they're dying now.
Do you know who kissed the apple
  Till it reddened on the bough
Why so mute the little streamlet 
  Down the hill it used to leap;
Now I faintly hear it sobbing-
  Sobbing out like one in sleep.

Leaden clouds lay on the heavens,
  Like a burden on the heart;
And the winds together whisper,
  Sad as loved ones ere they part.
Then anon a dreamy dullness
  Hovers over sky and earth;
Ah! my soul reflects the sadness,
  And I seek my friendly hearth

You who love the Indian summer,
  So renowned by pen and art,
Go, and revel in the gloaming,
  While so sadly pants my heart.
But I can not watch the leaflets,
  On the whirlwind as they ride,
For just so a hectic river
  Bore my darling from my side.

 KA6TYDIYIS POEMS.



              6Z1 SistQer'S LJsxe.

                      TO IDA.


            gHE knelt beside her brother's grave,
              The day was near its close;
         And where the cool, tall grasses wave,
           She lay a fresh-cut rose.
         Then, from a silver waiter near,
           She drew a wreath of white,
         Besprinkled with the twilight's tear,
           O'ershaded with the night,
         And placed them on the green-kept mound.
           I watched her kneeling there,
         Her face bent on the sacred ground,
           In attitude of prayer;
         And while a bird sang soft his hymn,
           Down-looking from above,
         We saw unveiled a picture dim-
           A statue true of love.





1) MeTr)ory of Daii            jebtse9 Xklbife.


          F I could blend into my verse
          A That soft and slumb'rous haze,
          So faintly resting on the rose
            Before the autumn days
          Have chilled its heart, and numbed the leaves,
            And drunk the precious dew,
         Then could I melodize in song,
            Her life so pure and true.

         Or could I weave into this song
            Her smile, so rich and rare,
          That found its way to every heart,
            And left its halo there-



26

 
KA TYDID'S POEMiS



Then earth would not seem desolate,
    Or days be lone or long,
 Since she would sweetly live again
    In verse, and smile in song.

  All this is vain! both pen and voice,
  Too weak to speak her worth;
  Though memory writes in words of gold,
    Her beauteous deeds on earth.
  Heaven claimed our flower-there we may bloom,
    If we the watchword keep:
"Whatsoever thou shall sow,
    That also thou shall reap."




Tbe ele1I0ti'0p&S 0lill0luY.

        TO MRS. T. R. WALTON.


  WET others bring from foreign shore
     The glittering gem, the shining ore,
  Rare trophies from the coral caves,
  And hidden wealth of ocean waves,
        To grace the bridal hall.

  You floral queens! You roses white!
  Bathed in the moonbeam's yellow light,
  You'll smile in many a quaint design,
  And help the banquet room to line-
        But not the diadem.

  My starry flowers-this purple heath-
  She'll gather for that trailing wreath;
  For my faint breath of rare perfume
  Is only for the bridal room-
        The bride-the bridal crown.

  To watch with me her trembling sigh,
  The golden pansy's modest eye
  Shall only glance from out my bower,
  With ine proclaim the nuptial hour,
         And seal the holy bond.



27

 
K8A TAI'DILUS POEMS.



                   CA     ro0b]eM.



       Y heart is perplexed, though I've tried to discover
         An answer to solve what it is that I miss,
    Though I've questioned myself more that twenty times over,
      There seems no reply to a question like this.
    My friends meet me gladly with words kindly spoken,
      Salutations of praises and sometimes a kiss,
      And looks sent along with a sweet flower token.
      I find in my room-there is something I miss.

    The blaze up the chimney this evening is talking,
      The wind and the shutter hum sad an old tune,
      A cloud o'er the heavens i