Part 6

When they sing, such lovely visions seem to rise and grandly float Like the poet's airy mansions, on the wave of each full note! Silvery daybreaks brighten slow; sunsets blush on mountain snow! Moonlight shivers on the open sea; Autumn burns in bush and tree; Blowing willows bend and sigh; whispering rivers wander by; Thro' the pines sweep sea-tones soft; sailing birds shout loud aloft; Strange notes beat the lambent air; visions float divinely fair; Vanished faces come and go; silenced voices murmur low; Gentlest memories come and cling, _as we listen and they sing_.

Oh, repeat the music's tale, "_Love shall perish not nor fail_!" We forget the fear of death--breathe, in tho't, immortal breath! We believe in broadening truth; trust the generous creeds of youth; Feel consoling hopes that climb up to some triumphant clime, And sweet dreams of splendor bring _as we listen and they sing_!

Walls of rock and bars of steel we can neither see nor feel; We forget our dire disgrace; disregard both time and place; Bid all angry passion sleep and profoundest silence keep! Hoard the trembling notes that fall like an angel mother's call; Rise above our low estate and forget the wrongs of fate! We forgive our mortal foes, source of all our many woes, And penance itself loses half its sting, _as we listen and they sing_!

May the God of love and truth give them all the joys of youth; May the raptures they impart ever thrill each noble heart; May their ministry of love lead all erring ones above; May wealth, happiness and joy all their waiting hours employ; Be their cares both light and few and their pleasures ever new; And their lives one dream of ease till their "ship comes o'er the seas!" Let fate oft their presence bring, _and we'll listen while they sing_ Gentle sisters, take this tribute poured from imprisoned hearts; You have eased their maddening torture, you have stayed the cruel darts That remorse and shame have driven deep within each captive soul. Suffer them your names to graven on fond memory's deathless scroll: Be assured your seeds of kindness shall not fall on stony ground, Many of your willing converts have both peace and pardon found! And, when all your work is ended, you in heaven shall fondly greet Some whose hearts were first enlightened by your anthems clear and sweet.

_TO A DEPARTED IDOL._

BY G. W. VAX WEIGHS.

Thou art not dead, thou art not gone to dust, No line of all thy loveliness shall fall To formless ruin, smote by time and thrust Into the solemn gulf that covers all.

Thou canst not perish. Tho' the sod Sink with its violets closer to thy breast, Tho' by the feet of generations trod The loadstone crumbles from thy place of rest.

The marvel of thy beauty cannot die; The sweetness of thy presence shall not fade; Earth gave not all the glory of thine eye; Death cannot smite what earth ne'er made.

It was not _thine_, that marble forehead pale and cold. Nor those dumb lips they laid beneath the snow; Thy heart would throb beneath that passive fold; _Thy_ hands, for me, that stony clasp forego.

But _thou_ hast gone. Gone from this dreary land; Gone from the storms let loose on every hill; Lured by the sweet persuasion of a band That leads thee, somewhere, in the distance still.

Where e'er thou art, I know thou wearest yet The same bewitching beauty, sanctified By calmer joy, and touched with soft regret For him who seeks but cannot reach thy side.

I keep for thee the living love of old, And seek thy place in nature, as a child Whose hand is parted from its playmate's hold Wanders and cries along a lonesome wild.

When, in the watches of my heart, I hear The messages of purer life and know The footsteps of thy spirit lingering near, Life's darkness hides the way I fain would go.

Canst thou not bid the empty realms restore That form, the symbol of thy heavenly part? Or in the barren fields of silence pour That voice, the perfect music of thy heart?

Oh, once--once bending to my warm and eager lips, Take back the tender warmth of life from me, Or let thy kisses cloud with swift eclipse The light of mine, and give me death with thee.

_ACROSTIC TO WARDEN AND MRS. E. G. COFFIN._

Elijah of old ancient times was a man of many, many minds! Long did he live in noble deeds, in dealing comfort to men's needs, In these, our modern, modest days, all men have greatly changed their ways-- Jehovah's laws do not control the wickedness of every soul. All those who know as well as I while on this earth will not decry He who will bad men reform--Hail, Coffin! who for us was born!

Godfrey is his second name, and now he reaps most enviable fame: Our watchword is both day and nights--while o'er him floats the Stars and Stripes-- "Do unto us as you would choose, that others do to you and yours!" Faithful to her life-long trust, a wife, a mother, true and just, Resolves to help both maid and man and lend an ever helping hand-- Each day and night they toil and pray for boys and girls to mend their way, Yet they do not toil all in vain for the great good done the human train.

"Coffin" is a word some shun, for it takes man when on earth he's done Out to the churchyard laid in clay, for ages sanctioned such a way. For us poor sinners here in "hell" a Coffin sent makes us feel well, For often he does ease the pains we feel in both our hearts and brains. In endless joy may they have peace for kindness they have done to us-- Not one of us, though cursed with sin, will e'er forget our friends Coffin.

_CANTO SECOND--LAST, BUT NOT LEAST!_

Mistress she is of the Coffin shrine, and so it's been for years of time! In holy wedlock girls and boys have been the idols of their joys! She bids her Lord Elijah bide a faithful servant by her side, To aid her with a helping hand to raise poor, wretched, fallen man. Real sympathy for the prisoner's woe, she seeds of comfort tries to sow Ere long before it is too late to save poor sinner from his fate; She "cookies" make, with pearls all set, and puts them in Elijah's hat, She then does send him on his way, while for the prisoner she does pray.

Mary silently did keep the watch o'er Christ while he did sleep; All her _protege_ she will save if her Lord will help her brave Roaring storms of vice and ire, kindled by a vengeful fire! You may guess for all the rest, let me say SHE'LL DO HER BEST!

Coffins, to you let us turn! and all crime forever spurn! Only aid us in this strife to fight manfully for life. Father Elijah! Mother Mary! for our welfare do not tarry! Fear you not! for the good you've done has saved many a fallen one! In our hearts we oft despair as we linger in this lair-- Not for long tho' when we've seen--Father Elijah and Mary, his _Queen_!

_A PRISON VISION._

BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON.

'Tis midnight in these prison walls, And even the sentry's muffled tread Sepulchral sounds, as if he trod The silent confines of the dead.

In vain I close my weary eyes, I cannot sleep tonight; I hear an angel's rustling wings Fresh from the realms of light.

A sacred presence haunts the air, A messenger from Heaven's own land; And memory awakes again, Touched by an angel's wand.

I seem to hear, deep in my soul, The music of a heavenly choir, While each pulsation of my heart Awakes in me the old desire

To see once more that lovely form Death vanished in my arms; To hear again her melting voice And revel in her charms.

To feel the tender, soft caress Of a loved tho' vanished hand, And hear from her departed lips The mysteries of that land

That lies beyond Time's rugged shore, To all unknown, save those Whom angels capture for the skies At life's uncertain close.

I muse again, with loving thought, Of a sinless wife long dead, And live again our buried past, By an angel presence led.

I view again the pleasing scene Of a school house on the hill, Where happy scholars daily met, Whose law was the teacher's will.

I see again the old armchair Where the Master daily sat With watchful eye and helpful hand, Yet sleepless as a cat.

I hear again the sleepless hum Of voices low and sweet, Of students pouring o'er the books With wisdom's germs replete.

Amid that happy, guileless throng, There was one peerless face That held in the Master's tender heart An undisputed place.

It was a face, O God! how fair! No words can ever paint; More fit for heaven than for earth. It bore the contour of a saint.

The brow was high and broad and white, With a radiance all its own; The cheeks, like lilies dipped in blood, Were oft as a rose full blown.

Eyebrows dark and delicately arched, Were penciled in Nature's play; The ruby ripeness of her lips Seemed never to melt away.

Her lustrous eyes, whose depths were brown, Yet seemed a darker hue, Were windows of a spotless soul That scorned to be untrue.

Abundant tresses of dark brown hair That almost swept the ground, Enveloped as chaste and lovely form As e'er on earth was found.

A voice so soft, so sweet, so low That every accent woke Sweet notes of blissful melody, As if an angel spoke.

None could look upon that face And deem that aught of earth Could chill the rapture of a soul Where sin could know no birth.

Her mind had wondrous power and scope; It grasped the sea, the earth, the sky, And rightly understood and loved The God who ruled on high.

Contentment, truth and virtue Was part of Nature's dower; Self-sacrifice to her was joy, And prayer was conscious power.

While yet a child her spirit soared Above the things of earth, And mused with soulful tenderness On the heaven that gave it birth.

The teacher's stern, imperious heart Yearningly worshipped this child, And 'neath her hallowed influence Grew tender, warm and mild.

The haughty heart, that never sought The plaudits of the world, Poured its richest tribute At the feet of this faultless girl.

The face, that never even blanched 'mid war's terrific strife, Grew pale as death the hour he asked This child to be his wife.

No word she spake, but simply laid Her head upon his breast. He folded her in warm embrace And knew that he was blest.

Each lived a life of conscious joy; Earth seemed a garden fair; The lover sought earth's fairest flowers To braid in her shining hair.

Deeply they drank at the font of love; Draughts few natures can hold; The hours were seasons of perfect bliss; Each moment more precious than gold.

Days and months flew swiftly by On the wings of happiness sped, And two sweet babes were garnered As the fruit of their marriage bed!

They neither thought nor dreamed of aught Save their babes and coming bliss; They greeted the morn with soft caress And welcomed night with a kiss.

Till, thundering on the wings of Time, Fate dealt the cruel blow That dashed a home in pieces And laid a child-wife low.

The husband pressed her to his breast And fondly kissed his bride; But with the parting of that kiss The sinless child-wife died.

The kindred angels joyful flew From the realms of endless day, And gently wafted her soul above, But left to us her clay.

"She is dead! Kiss her and come away. Your cries and prayers are all in vain, Your May-Bell is cold, senseless clay; In heaven above you'll meet again."

They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair Back from her marble forehead fair; Over her eyes, that oped too much, They closed the lids with a tender touch.

They closed with tender touch, that day, The thin, pale lips where beauty lay; About her brow and her sweet pale face They tied her veil and bridal lace;

Placed on her feet the white silk shoes That May-Bell for her marriage chose; Over her bosom crossed her hands; "Come away," they said, "God understands."

With bowed heads they left the room, Still shuddering at its silent gloom; And naught, save silence, lingered there Around the corpse of May-Bell Clare.

But I loved her far too well to dread The silent, stately, beautiful dead. I cautiously opened the chamber door And was alone with my dead once more.

I kissed her lips, I kissed her cheek, But 'twas in vain, she could not speak. I called her names, she loved, awhile, But she was dead and could not smile.

And not one passionate whisper of love Could call her back from her home above. "Cold lips," I murmured, "breast without breath, Is there no voice, no language in death?"

Dull to ear and still to the sense, Yet to the soul of love intense! See, I listen with soul, not ear; What is the secret of dying, my dear?

Was it the infinite wonder of all That you could let life's flower fall? Or was it a greater marvel to feel The perfect calm o'er agony steal?

Was the miracle greatest to find how deep Beyond all dreams sank down that sleep? Did life roll back its record, my dear, Showing all past deeds dark and clear?

Oh, did love, sweet mistress of bliss, Affrighted, vanish to shun death's kiss? For radiant ones in the world above Forget those whom on earth they love?

Oh, perfect death! Oh, dead most dear, I hold the breath of my soul to hear! I listen as deep as fathomless hell, As high as heaven, nor will you tell!

There must be pleasure in dying, my sweet, To make you so placid from head to feet! I'd tell you, darling, if I were dead And _your_ hot tears on _my_ cheeks shed,

I'd speak, though the angel of death had laid His sword on my lips, their accents to shade. Not in vain should you, with streaming eyes, Beg to know Death's chief surprise.

Oh, foolish world! Oh, precious dead! Tho' you tell me, who will believe 'twas said? Who will believe I heard you say In your own dear, kind familiar way:

"I can speak now--you listen with soul alone: To the eyes of your soul _all_ shall be shown. In this land of infinite bliss The utmost wonder, dear one, is this:

"I see and love and kiss you again; I smile at your triumph over pain; I know your heart is honest and true; I'm a guardian angel to you!

"What a strange, delicious amusement is death! To live without being, to breathe without breath! I should laugh did you not cry; Listen, dear one, love never can die!

"I am now your heaven-decked bride; My body and not my love has died! Dear one, _it_ lies there, I know, Pale and silent, cold as snow.

"And you say, 'May-Bell is dead.' Weeping o'er my silent head! _I_ can see your falling tears, Hear your sighs and know your fears!

"Yet I smile and whisper this: I am not the clay you kiss; Cease your tears and let _it_ lie, It was mine, but 'tis not _I_!

"Dear one, what the women love For its silent home, the grave, Is a garment I have quit, As a tent no longer fit.

"'Tis a cage from which, at last, My enraptured soul has passed. Love the _inmate_, not the _room_, Love the _wearer_, not the _plume_!

"_Love_ my _spirit_, not the _bars_, That kept your May-Bell from the stars; Be wise, dear one, and quickly dry From every tear your laden eye.

"What you place upon the bier Is not worth a lover's tear; 'Tis an empty shell at last, Out of which the soul has passed.

"The shell is broken, _it_ lies _there_, But the _pearl_, the _soul_, is _here_! 'Tis an earthen jar, whose lid God sealed when it faintly hid

"The soul He made to live on high; The mind that did not, cannot die. Let the dross be earth's once more, Since the gold is in His store.

"God is glorious! God is good! Now His word is understood! Life's ceaseless wonder is at an end, Yet you weep, my erring friend!

"See, the lover _you_ call dead To immortal bliss is wed! Loves and homes you lost, 'tis true, To such light as shines for you.

"Yet deep in your inmost soul You shall feel my sweet control. I'll be with you every hour, Commissioned by Almighty Power,

"To guard each moment of your life As best befits your angel wife! At night I'll linger 'round your bed, With an angel's noiseless tread;

"And while you, slumbering, dream of me, I'll be present, love, with thee. Where e'er you go, where e'er you stray, I'll be near thee night and day,

"Guarding you with zealous care, Pointing out life's every snare, Chasing every tear away, Aiding every joy to stay.

"Chide you when you go astray; Bless you when you kneel to pray; Lead you, with an unseen hand, To view the wonders of a land

"Where Peace and Love and Perfect Joy Tongue cannot name, nor peace destroy! Shall ever bless the happy band, As radiant 'round the throne they stand!

"Once there, we'll never part again, But _time_, and _love_ while God shall reign. I cannot, _dare not_, say farewell; Where I am _now_ you, too, shall dwell.

"I am gone before your face, A moment's time, a little space. When you come where I have stepped You'll greatly wonder why you wept!

"You'll know by Love Eternal taught That Heaven is _all_, that earth is naught. I beg you not to dread sweet death; 'Tis but the first and faintest breath

"Of the life that God hath given To fit immortal souls for heaven! Be _certain_, darling, _all_ seems love, Viewed from the higher courts above!

"The cares and troubles that arise Will prove sweet blessings in disguise; They'll waft you to a home above, Where I'll await your coming, Love!"

_I_ heard these words and fell on the breast Of the peerless bride that heaven had dressed. I yearned for those blissful regions above With heart overflowed with passionate love.

My peerless flower, tho' nipped in youth, Perennial shall bloom in the Garden of Truth! I see in the distance a roseleaf hand Beckoning me on to that glorious land.

Tho' parted on earth we'll meet in the sky, Where bliss cannot perish, and love cannot die. Oh, bliss supernal! Oh, rapture complete, When earth-sundered ones in glory shall meet.

For years and years I've watched in vain To see that buried face again; In vain I've tried, with mortal eyes, To pierce the mysteries of the skies!

Oh, sweetheart of the days of yore, Shall we meet on earth no more? Shall I languish all alone Without one sympathetic tone--

One glance of love, one word of cheer From eyes and lips I hold so dear? Oh, hearken to my piteous cries, Beloved one, and forsake the skies!

Oh, listen! Earth-born mortals, see! My angel bride has come to me! The self-same face--divinely fair-- And heaven-set jewels decked her hair.

Her laughing eye and glowing cheek Eternal youth and bliss bespeak; My head is pillowed on her breast, My brow by her dear hands caressed!

The dulcet tones of her dear voice Bids my aching heart rejoice; She folds me 'neath her dazzling wings, While all the heart within me sings!

Oh, list those melting tones of love, More soft than note of cooing dove! Oh, hear the words her dear lips speak: "Death, dear one, is the boon to seek!

"False are the glittering gems of earth, Eternity's gold is the gold of worth; One moment in heaven is worth a life Spent on earth 'mid care and strife!

"Death is but the dawn of day, Destroying naught save worthless clay! The soul lives on in rapturous bliss More perfect than a virgin kiss!

"Oh, dear one, still your haunting fears; The love, tho' lost, of earlier years Awaits your coming to the skies, And o'er you watch with jealous eyes,

"Lest earth detain you till too late To enter heaven's wide open gate. Oh, tarry not on earth too long, But with me join immortal's song!"

She spake, and through the vaulted sky, Beyond the reach of mortal eye, She wings her rapid noiseless flight And I am left alone tonight.

Nay, not alone; for in my soul I feel a new-born sweet control That lures me to a higher life, Which will please an angel wife!

Farewell, prison blight and bars, Mine is a home beyond the stars. Welcome, Death, at any hour, Since sin has lost her maddening power!

_ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO

CAPT. J. S. ACHESON._

BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON.

Just consider, for one moment, all the good this man has done. On full many a field of battle he the victory hath won; Swept he with victorious Sherman from Atlanta to the sea, Ever acting as a soldier, from all fear and malice free; Proving true in every station, like a soldier tried and true, He has earned and won the friendship of the boys who wore the blue!

Since his advent in this prison he has, with impartial mind, Made it plain that every duty can be done and still be kind. In his bosom rests no malice towards a single human soul; 'Tis his study, night and morning, all his passions to control. He is willing every prisoner should become his honest _friend_,

And the prisoner's reformation he regards as _law's best trend_: Crime, he deems is but the fruitage of conditions time can change. He would lift his fallen brother and no rule of right derange! Ever ready with the welcome of a smile and word of cheer, Some may only be respected, but such men are ever dear. O'er the path of life may Heaven scatter roses at his feet; None will doubt that every christian shall _his_ face in heaven meet.

_MY MOTHER._

CARR.

One bright Sunday morn, as I sat in my cell, My thoughts to the outside did roam; The sweet songs of birds, as their notes rose and fell, Turned my mind to my childhood's dear home.

Long years they have passed since I saw that dear spot, But its sweet memories time can ne'er smother; I can never forget that dear little cot And the sweet loving smile of my mother.

In sickness or pain 'twas dear mother that brought Her sweet self and her charms to allay it; She learned me a prayer and she lovingly taught Me to kneel at her knees and to say it.

God's word she would read, and impress on my mind The love that's conveyed by that story Of the Savior, who died that millions might find Eternal rest in His realms of glory.

For years she's been dead, and her low, grassy mound Reminds me that 'neath it lies sleeping The dear friend of my youth, whose magic, I found, Could bring smiles to my face e'en when weeping.

'Tis thus the dear birds, as they joyfully sing And chirp happy calls to each other, Remind me that perhaps they were sent for to bring A message to me from my mother.

But, alas! as I think, upon my mind there quickly falls The thoughts of my sad degredation; The strong iron bars, and the grey, sombre walls, Recall me to my sad situation.

But no more will I sin; I'll live upright for sure; My passions and temptations I'll smother; And when God calls me home to that bright shining shore We'll be happy together, dear mother.

_A MEMORIAL ODE._

BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS.

Again the sacred day has come When tears and flowers shall fall On the graves of our sleeping heroes Who died at Liberty's call.

And the tears we shed above them, As our hearts with tenderness bled, Is the crown of their matchless glory And earth's divinest mead.

Their deeds on the field of battle Were such as a god might do, And the listening angels applauded The work of the boys in blue.