Pages 107 Transcribed

Pages 107 Transcribed

SHELLS OF OCEAN.

One summer eve, in pensive thought,
I wandered on the seabeat shore,
Where oft in heedless infant sport,
I gathered shells in days before repeat:
The splashing waves like music fell,
Responsive to my fancy wild,
A dream came o'er me like a spell, repeat
I thought I was again, again a child. ditto

I stooped upon the pebbly strand
To cull the toys that round me lay;
But as I took them in my hand,
I threw them, one by one away, repeat
Oh! thus I said, in every stage.
By toys our fancy is beguiled;
We gather shells from youth to age, repeat
And then we leave them, leave them, like a child.


---


Fragments.

The impossible becomes possible when courage spurs us on. Humility us the altar on which God wishes us to offer sacrifice to Him. Troubles are the tools by which God fashions us for better things. Like a granite is cut and chiselled to make it more beautiful, so God chisels men to make them something nicer and better.

Pages 105-106 Transcribed

Pages 105-106 Transcribed

Papa's Letter

I was sitting in my study,
Writing letters when I heard,
"Please, dear mamma, Mary told me
Mamma mustn't be disturbed.

"But I've tired of de kitty,
Want some over fing to do.
Writing letters, if you, mamma?
May I wite a letter too?"

I would paint my darling's portrait, and slowly shook my head
Then I said, "I'll make a letter of darling boy, instead."
So I parted back the tresses from his forehead broad and white,
And a stamp in sport I pasted 'Mid its waves of golden light.

And I said, "Now, little letter, go away and bear good news."
And I smiled as down the staircase clattered loud the little shoes.
Leaving me, the darling hurried down to Mary in his glee,
Mama's witing lots of letters; I'se a letter, Mary - see!

No one heard the little prattler, once more he climbed the stair,
Reached his little cap and tippet, Standing on the entry there.
No one heard saw my darling baby, no one saw the golden hair,
As it floated in the breezes of the crisp October air.

Down the street the baby hastened till he reached the office door.
"I'se a letter, Mr. Postman; is there room for any more?
"'Cause dis letter's doin' to Pa, Pa lives with God, you know,
Ma sent me for a letter, Do you fink dat It can go?"

And the clerk in wonder answered,
"Not to-day, my little man."
"Den I'll find another office,
For I must go if I tan."

Fain the clerk would have detained him,
But the pleading face was gone,
And the little feet were hastening
By the busy crowd swept on.

Suddenly the crowd was parted,
People fled to left and right,
As a pair of maddened horses
At that moment came in sight.

No one saw the baby figure
No one saw his golden hair,
Till a voice of frightened sweetness
Rang out on the evening air.

Reverently they raised my darling,
Brushed away the locks of gold,
Saw the stamp upon the forehead,
Growing now so icy cold.

Not a mark the face disfigured,
Showing where a hoof had trod;
But the little life was ended
"Papa's letter" was with God.

Page 103 Transcribed

Page 103 Transcribed

1. Scenes that are brightest, May charm for awhile.
Hearts that are lightest, And eyes that smile.
Yet o'er them above us, Though nature beam,
With none to love us, How sad they seem!
With none to love us, How sad they seem!

2. Words cannot scatter, The thoughts we fear;
For though they flatter, They mock the ear,
Hopes will still deceive us With tearful cost,
And when they leave us The heart is lost.
And when they leave us The heart is lost.


Our lives are songs. God writes the words,
And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad,
As we choose to fashion the measure.
We must write the music, whatever the song,
Whatever its rhyme, or metre;
And if it is sad, we can make it glad,
Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter.

Page 101 Transcribed - Poem: The Gypsy’s warning

Page 101 Transcribed

The Gypsy’s warning

Do not trust him gentle lady,
Though his voice be low and sweet,
Heed not him who kneels before thee,
Gently pleading at the thy feet.
Now thy life is in its morning
Cloud not this happy lot,
Listen to the gypsy’s warning
Gentle lady, trust him not. (repeat)

Do not turn so coldly from me,
I would only guard your youth
From his stern and withering power
I would only tell thee truth.