Chapter 3

If you would be forever free From tyrant so severe, Watch every thought before you're caught, For he is hovering near.

Your every word guard with the sword Of truth, which never fails, Its honor's sung in every tongue, Its power e'er prevails.

Act well your part, and keep your heart Free from the tares he sows, For at the end like traitor friend He leaves you with your woes.

Thus Habit mars with wounds and scars The favored of our race, Transforms the mind that God designed Should be the dwelling place

Of noble thought with heaven fraught Into a sterile plain, Whose atmosphere is dank and drear-- A wild chaotic brain.

Man scarce may be entirely free From wiles and tricks and snares, Whose stealthy forms and subtle charms Approach us unawares.

Our eyes are blind or not inclined To see that powerful hand, That silently, yet forcibly Gives us its strong command.

LIFE'S EMERGENCIES.

How strangely dark are the vapors That sometimes obscure the way, Ere the light of truth advances To the noon of a perfect day.

As the unforeseen approaches In stealth from ambushed retreat, The mettle of soul is summoned Its emergencies to meet.

To shrink by its sudden coming, To surrender our control Without a struggle for vantage, Betrays a weakness of soul.

The conflicts with emergencies We meet in our daily call, Give strength or death to moral worth As we conquer them or fall.

To meet at once with valor true The attack from an ambuscade, In moral strife, or bloody war, Hath many a hero made.

Who has not trained himself to meet The vicissitudes that arise Upon the course of life's stern race, Must fail to secure its prize.

* * * * *

To hold a pessimistic view, And see the world as darkly "blue," And feel mankind is false, untrue, Is not a just conclusion; But Truth demands that Hope shall wear No false rose in her silken hair, To hide Deceit, Fraud, and Despair, That feed on wild Delusion.

STRAND DESPAIR.

The wrecks that lie on Strand Despair, Should serve as buoys on life's stern seas To guide the voyager safely, where He may escape the tides and breeze That drive to whirlpools, bars, and rocks, Where human vessels oft impinge And leave a ruin that but mocks The pleadings of persuasion's hinge.

An idle mind, companions base, A shrinking from a duty known, A sly deceit, a brazen face, A lying tongue, a sullen tone, Lead toward a wreck on Strand Despair, And none but self can move the helm To change the course for scenes more fair, To save from storms that overwhelm.

INDULGENCE.

An alarm is sounding through the land That tells of a stronger foe Than that which marched on Lexington, To strike a fatal blow At the liberties our sires did claim For themselves and all mankind, For this foe is a product of deceit And sophistry combined.

Its victims fall by the smiling ways Of a charmed environment That lures him on to neglect and sin, And to final banishment Of the vital spark of an earnest man, And all that is noble and true, To the effete round of nothingness Which honor and strength will subdue.

No Spartan Helen of beauty and fame, No mermaid with winsome face, No Siren that sings an alluring song, No Pandora in her grace, Can soothe and charm to destruction's retreat, Like the foe that robs of power To meet the needs of life's true aim, The requirements of each hour.

It has filled our courts, our prisons, our jails, And filled our almshouses, too, Itself and distress walk hand in hand, No crimes but its victims will do; Though it seems like a true and trusty friend 'Tis a tyrant in disguise, It leads to distrust and uncertainty, It wins no enduring prize.

In homes it leads to disorder wild, In school, to defiance of laws, In nations, to strife on bloody fields, In man, to destruction's jaws; In business its office is but to destroy, In friendship, brings lack of respect, In love, oft a maddened, frenzied heart That can never endure neglect.

Parents, true kindness holds steady hand, Judges, know justice is kind, Teachers, remember the work for you Is to strengthen heart and mind. Kindness, dethroned by lack of control, Ruins our girls and our boys, Firmness is noble, honest, and true, Indulgence only destroys.

THE TEACHER'S SOLILOQUY.

And so another week has gone, And I once more am left alone Within my silent room; My mind is worn by fervent care, And, languishing, it needs repair For duties yet to come.

From all the cares which come on me I cannot be entirely free Thro' all this mortal life; But cares imported from abroad Make much more ponderous the load, And cause more bitter strife.

With patient labor, day by day, I work along this toilsome way Intent on doing good; My pupils' hearts I would inspire With noble thoughts and strong desire For intellectual food.

I note the various schemes and arts, As prompted by the different hearts, They lead to different deeds. As deeds and hearts will correspond, By observation it is found There should be different meeds.

The wish made known for some will do, And some a gentle frown would rue And feel extremely sad; While others need a sterner look, A reprimand, or sharp rebuke, And sometimes e'en the rod.

Most gladly would I hail the day When children cheerfully obey, (If e'er that day shall come,) But ere that happy day I see, A reformation there must be In government at home.

And what is my reward for all This watchful care and earnest toil To train the youthful mind? From Ignorance it draws a curse-- Though pocket hold a puny purse-- Yet one reward I find--

To see the young prepared for life And launched upon the outward strife Of its tempestuous sea, And know that I have trained that mind, With noble thought that heart refined, Is rich reward for me.

When all life's lessons have been taught, And my own soul with love is fraught For earnest, striving man, Perhaps an understanding Lord Will proffer as a great reward, Redemption through His plan.

* * * * *

A beautiful vision I sometimes see, That stands in the distance and smiles upon me; It points with a finger of radiance bright, To the fleeting shades of departing night. I would gladly know if this scene designed To be a true type of the human mind, When the mists and clouds of dark ignorance, Shall into the realms of the unknown advance.

SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST.

The survival of the fittest, The advancement of the best, The enthronement of the truest In the world's great crucial test, Is emblazoned on each banner Wherever man is found, And e'en 'mong plants and animals This holds, the world around.

Then prepare for the survival, Allow no base retreat, (Dethronement means delinquency,) Endure the cold and heat; The elements that meet us May all be overcome, With God and right ever in sight, The victory may be won.

THE DIFFERENCE.

I have scanned the roll of teachers, Have noted the Aarons and Hurs Who have stayed education's Moses, And removed the cumbrous bars That environed its anxious spirit, And bowed down its life with cares.

I have counted them all over, Have analyzed heart and brain, Have watched them in daily labor That I might some key obtain To unlock the magical power, By which some supremely reign.

I have listened with ear enraptured, Have caught the gleam of the eye, Have felt the glow of emotion When bright corruscations fly From mental touch and fervor, That prompted others to try.

The soul knows no fire so warming, No light so fervent and true, As the glow of the living presence Of one of the noble few Who counts her pain but pleasure, If good she may only do.

A teacher who knows her subjects And has much of didactic art, Will present the truths of science To the youthful mind and heart, In ways so apt and skillful They will never more depart,

But will gather strength and beauty With every day and hour, Until they become a fortress-- An irresistible power To dispel the gloom of doubting That oft o'er the mind may lower.

No truth is learned by mere telling, The mind must conceive and apply; There is inspiration, knowledge, In one's own discovery That lead to efforts and struggles For a greater mastery.

Herein lies the power of teaching: A systemized method to do That reaches the understanding, And leads on to fields anew, Where _Thought_ shall be the head master, And Truth shall Error subdue;

A heart that is wholly given To leading the youthful mind, To discover the powers and virtues They within themselves shall find, And mould them into actions Progressive, strong, refined;

A spirit that sees in the being A gift from God unto man, That must live on thro' all ages, Though influenced by some plan That here has been determined, But God shall hereafter scan;

A tongue that is but the voicing Of a heart aflame with its cause, That speaks of science and morals From a knowledge of their laws; That speeds the true and worthy, But bids all deception pause;

A judgment so wisely balanced As to know what must be done To avoid the indiscretions Into which so many run, Of telling, instead of leading, Till the victory has been won.

* * * * *

In reckoning the moral stock Of any man or woman, It is but right to recollect That all of us are human; If heart be true, the body frail, And honestly he's striven, Tho' oft a brother's plans may fail, He ought to be forgiven.

MIND AWAKENED.

The battle is not to the mighty, Nor the race to the fleet of foot, The peak is not reached by bounding, Nor the goal by a devious route; The problems of science and culture Have been ages upon the way; The greatest vict'ries 'mong nations Have not been won in a day. 'Tis the steady tramping onward Of feet that will not turn aside From the path they are pursuing, That wins at the eventide. 'Tis the firm determination Of a strong and unyielding will, Moved on by gigantic action Of forces that cannot be still, That has won the greatest honors 'Mong nations whose moral power Have lighted liberty's beacon In despondency's darkest hour. The mind that is sometimes darkest When it struggles for light and power, Breaks off the bands of thraldom And itself like some strong tower, Becomes the bulwark of nations In defense of some sacred cause That looks toward the world's advancement, Through reign of beneficent laws.

THE OGRE.

There's an ogre abroad, boys, There's an ogre abroad, A three-handed monster That makes his abode In hamlet and city, In country and town, And revels in death As he drags people down. He's a sly old destroyer, Very loth to admit That the snares he is using Are fraud and deceit. He has slain and devoured More than the sword; By all earnest people He is greatly abhorred, For he leads to disease, To sorrow and death, As poison exhales From his presence and breath. He fastens himself On bright, innocent youth, And slyly allures him From virtue and truth. He holds by the throat The servants who wait To hear his excuses; And sad is their fate, For insidious smile Is his only excuse To victims who suffer Defeat and abuse. So sly are his movements, So stealthy his tread, Like a vampire, on blood He is frequently fed, While his victim, unconscious, Makes no defence; He steals mind and honor And good common sense. If you meet him, my boy, Beware of his grasp, For his smiles are so sweet; But on you he will clasp The shackles he carries Forever concealed, And when he secures you He seldom will yield. He will keep you away From duty and right, Destroy all your honor, Your hopes sadly blight, With promises made Which he cannot fulfill He robs of contentment And shackles the will. This monster has always A right hand and left hand That have powers of their own That ought to command. If he had only these And used them aright, His presence would ever Afford us delight; But the third hand he has Is a very unkind hand, For this ogre's real name Is Little Behind Hand. Little Behind Hand Is tyrant indeed, From which we would have Mankind ever freed. Little Behind Hand Can seldom find work, For he stumbles in blindness And gropes in the dark, He is sullen and mean, Near-sighted and sour, Ruin and trouble 'Bout him constantly lower. Drive him off! Drive him off! Ere he fasten on you His fangs of destruction, The pestilent dew That he breathes on his victim To deaden the sense Of his presence and power, And their sad consequence. Strike him down! Strike him down! With strong, sturdy blow, If you yield to him now He will soon lay you low, And when hand and foot Are at his command, You will feel he has grown To a Big Behind Hand.

* * * * *

The public tide is polluted With offal, fraud, and deceit; In ev'ry line of industry Its venomous forms we meet In men who sneer at truth and right, Who, Honor's path have decried, That they might gain the golden calf Whose power they have deified.

MY CHOICE.

I would rather dwell a hermit In some silent peaceful wood, Where no voice of human being Ever breaks the solitude; Where babbling brook, and minstrelsy Of winged friends are heard To join the sylvan choruses Of leaves when gently stirred, Than live in costly splendor With a heartless, greedy throng, Whose only thought is sordid pelf Obtained by fraud and wrong.

I would far prefer a cavern On some rocky sea-girt isle, Where the constant intonations Of the waves as they recoil With their soughing and deep moaning For a momentary rest, Tell of liquid matter only That bespeaks itself distressed, Than to live where human bodies Bend and writhe for freedom's air, Till the heart breaks in deep sorrow, And the soul sinks in despair.

I would choose a lone oasis With one tree, one flower, one spring, One bird of sprightly plumage With throat attuned to sing; One whisper of approval From a voiceless power within; One perfect intuition Of freedom from all sin, Than dwell 'mid throngs and plenty And grovel in the filth That oft adheres to those who claim The boundless stores of wealth.

Some quiet nook in a valley With a canopy of leaves, Such as a forest Titan In fantastic beauty weaves; Or some vine-embowered tangle O'ershadowing murmuring stream Where scarce a ray of sunlight May on its waters gleam, Is a dwelling-place more restful To a man by right controlled Than the courts of kings and princes Ablaze with filched gold.

I would not shun the haunts of men Or bustle of the world, Nor would I see progression's flag Lie dormant or unfurled; If man for manhood would aspire, And less for gold and power, If noble thoughts and noble deeds Employ each passing hour, Then should the bustle be supreme, For manhood thus would rise Above the baser things of earth To honors in the skies.

I am not a misanthropist, Nor hater of just wealth, I love the presence of mankind, I love good-natured health, I love a true and noble soul In woman or in man, I love a being who would not Invert God's primal plan And keep in bondage soul and mind, Through base and false desire To trample fellow beings down, That he may rise still higher.

I know that hate deep in my soul Burns with an intense flame Toward him who scourges the oppressed, And unjust power doth claim, That he may gain some subtle coign By which to overthrow The balance Justice ever holds Alike for friend or foe; For such can never bless mankind By thought or word or deed; They laugh in glee whene'er they see Their victim writhe and bleed.

When all we teach in man is mind, And heart has no domain, Then fraud, deceit, and treachery Will form a tyrant train, For beacon light can never come Through those who legislate Unless good seed has been well sown By those who educate; But lift the soul by Sinai's laws And by the Golden Rule, Then legislation will have power Through truths taught in the school.

* * * * *

The world is wanting honest men Who know and dare to do aright, Whose honor brightens in the ken Of Justice's ever-searching light.

THE REQUIREMENTS OF THE HOUR.

It is hard to tell at the dawn of day What the sunset shades may bring, The plans we make may be astray, And our treasured hopes take wing.

We know not what strange environment May dwarf our most cherished plan, Or what obstructions may be sent To defeat our ends and aim.

Though we scorn the thought that fickle Fate Has Destiny in her hand, We all pay tribute at her gate And bow low at her command.

In spite of all the powers we boast Of independent action, An intervening hand may cost Our progress great detraction.

Few, few there be who lack the power To shape their own destiny, If each will improve th' passing hour To its full capacity.

A BOY.

A boy is a wonderfully curious thing, Of all creation he deems himself King, Yet give him for pastime a top and a string And he is instantly spinning; When fishes are ripe he tries them with hook, He thinks more of them than of a new book, And steals enough time to after them look, Not conscious that he is sinning.

The great possibilities within his scope Prompts to exertion, inspires him with hope, Till with the world he is ready to cope For the greatest laurels of honor; Glory and fame are attractive stars He may seek in strife, under bloody Mars, Till Wisdom revolts at the ugly scars Ambition has placed upon her.

Oh, active, mercurial, wonderful boy, The world is a top and you spin it with joy, Regardless of all the wiles you employ To gain the pleasure of seeing; No tree is so tall, but you reach its top limb, No water so deep, but in it you swim, No ice is so smooth, but o'er it you skim Like a phantom, a wonderful being.

ARBOR DAY POEMS.

THE TREE OF STATE.

[The Maple was chosen by vote of the children in the schools of N. Y. State as the State Tree, and the Rose as the State Flower. Nature's Tribute, The Rose, and The Golden Rod were written at the request of the State Department of Public Instruction of N. Y. and sent to the schools of the State for Arbor Day use. Nature's Tribute was set to music.]

Tree of our state and emblem of neatness, Beauty and grace abide in thy form; Not in thy blood alone courses a sweetness, Thy ev'ry unfolding is suavity born.

Down in the vale where cowslips are growing, Where violets breathe thro' sweet scented lips, Where brook o'er the bright pebbly bottom is flowing, And bee of the nectar of columbine sips.

A monarch it stands of regnative power, In a graceful symmetrical pose; Whose arms weave a fairy, majestical bower Where wood-nymphs their beauty disclose.

Its beautiful leaf of silvery sheen, And the grandeur it gives to the grove, Proclaim to th' world it of forest is queen, And most worthy our heart's purest love.

Honor we maple as type of all neatness, Yielding protection, beauty, and grace; None of its rivals boast of such sweetness, None can in typical form fill its place.

May th' state be as pure in motive and plan, As the maple from evil is free. May every son of the state, as a man Take his type from the pure maple tree.

Then hale be the state, and hail to the tree! And each halo of glory shall last Till from all tumult our state will be free, And no stain on her honor be cast.

This tree be our care, our state's honored prize. May virtue and glory assemble, And bid every man in dignity rise Till the tree of our state he resemble.

ARBOR DAY TRIBUTE.

With lavish hand our God hath spread Beauty and fragrance o'er the land; His smile revives the seeming dead; Nature awakes at His command.

He breathes upon the leafless tree; He whispers to the tiny flower. His touch awakes the slumbering bee, And each obeys th' Almighty power.

The perfumed breeze of smiling May, The dancing stream on mountain side, The wild bird's trill of joyous lay Proclaim Thy goodness far and wide.

Attune our hearts to sing Thy praise, Expand our souls to comprehend Thy attributes and all Thy ways, And ever be our Guide and Friend.

We plant to-day within the mould, The stock that needs Thy tender care; Send deep its roots, its buds unfold In answer to our faith and prayer.

THE ROSE.

When dewy morn of balmy June Awakes and blushes in the East, When song birds pipe their sweetest tune And Nature spreads her grandest feast, Among the rare and fragrant plants Whose petals most of heaven disclose, In foremost rank--far in advance-- There stands the sprightly, smiling rose.

Its home is on the wide, wide plains, In valleys where wild torrents foam, In solitudes where silence reigns, And by the cotter's humble home. It cheers alike the rich and poor On Alpine heights, or by the sea, By castle wall or peasant's door-- It justly claims ubiquity.

Could blushing beauty born of heaven, Or world-wide worship win the prize, Could fragrance, fancy, fame, or even The rich rays of reflected skies Soothe sorrows sharp and scorching sting And give the world complete repose, Then men should shout and children sing-- "The flower of State must be the Rose!"

THE GOLDENROD.

When August sunset's yellow blaze Streams out o'er meadow, field and lawn, It seeks some shrine wherein its rays May linger till returning dawn, And touching gently with its sheen That graceful plumage of the sod, Its constellated gems of green Are changed to glorious _Goldenrod_.