Loose paper: Puzzling Poem

Loose paper transcribed: Puzzling Poem

This was a loose piece of paper wedged in between page 62 and 63. I would love to know what the intent/meaning behind the puzzling poem is.

Flower in the crannied wall
I pluck you out of the crannies
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand
Little flower if I could understand
What you are, root & and all, and all in all
I should know what God and man is

Page 60, 61, 62 & 63 Transcribed: (CONFUSING!!!)

Please note, pages 60 - 63 were troubling to me because they didn't really make sense. They appear to be shorthand notes, perhaps for a story or play. I have found no published fictional material that contains either the characters or plot outline included here. Perhaps I am wrong but I think the author of the diary was writing or outlining some stories and perhaps planning their own work of fiction. I find this frustrating so if anyone comments with definite clues that lead to me figuring out what the notes refer to I will award them a good prize.

Page 60, 61, 62 & 63 Transcribed:

“The Lumberers”

Staying at seaside with parents calling on Missus Perkins, deceased clergyman’s daughter, which kept creditable appearances. Eldest, Miss P kept the house and half its comforts, even going out to do the shopping to save the expense. Three girls by first marriage. Two by second 1st Robina or “Bobby”. Second Miss Annie – ladylike, delicate health, required open air entire care garden. Third Miss Sarah – not attractive, would sit in pleasant place and sew, she has such an eye for a pattern. Would cut down gowns, cloaks, _____, then make them look decent for poor. Much loved by the poor. 1st Second, Amelia never did anything for anyone but grumbled at all. 2nd Bessie, a good useful girl at everyone’s beck and call... wanted learn drawing. Amelia’s friend Mr Blount, (Hiding in empty bathing machine. Hear themselves spoken of., the small subscription. The sewing A (Amelia??) reads and gets cross. The Boating trip. Flower girl loses a friend in Miss Annie, Mr Blount’s kindness, the strange ministers sermon “the Lumberer” A (Amelia??) laughs at it, she marries, comes into a fortune, soon spends it and asks help from sisters with whom she quarrelled. They help by taking her eldest children. Still very poor.

“My Great Aunts Picture”

I present you with the cap if it fits wear it... many confers to being proud, wain, even having temper but who is being envious, yet nearly all are so. Two aunts living in a nice cottage near the sea, Millicent makes her first visit there. “She is like her great aunt Beatrice’s picture – the expression more like than features” said aunt Mary, the picture seems to speak to hear and makes her uncomfortable, the aunts have so much to say to her. The aunts pictured face in the moonlight. Cousin Rosie Grant. They spend the days on beach. Milli ____ the way. The father and sons. The music R (Rosie??) plays well from memory, Rosie causes Mi to be envious. So childlike and merry, aunts tell of sweetness of temer, usefulness her obedience. The run on the beach. The real name was Annie.

The aunts give Millicent the picture she has to accept it. It tells her she envies her sister. They leave for holiday, she is unable to go but is thankful to be alone – no one to envy. Father pities – asks her cousin Rosie to stay with her. R (Rosie??) praises her beauty, loves her, the picnic, the lily wreath, forgotten music. The face reflected in the water. She sinks. Rosie saves by holding, then falls – the Haymakers.

Does she live? My great sin; R (Rosie’s??) severe illness, recovery, confession, forgiveness.

“Dr Deane’s Governess”

Miss Ann Salter the bright jolly friend of the children now becomes the affected governess, Mrs Mill takes deep interest in the household matters. Fanny now borrows home. Will Dobson (Dependence or independence) AS’s fathers accident. Fanny take her work, uncle pleased. AS see’s her mistake. Appy ever after.

“The Stolen Treasure”

Companions at the Willows Caroline Baker, very attractive, eyes same nut brown hue as hair, peculiar clearness, black eyebrows, asks Madame for holiday on birthday and obtains it. 3 months after Christiana Black came, not noticed because of their fascination for Caroline who was a native of the West Indies. The Black man with infant in arms (Miss West tells the story) the lady and gentlemen leave ________ and a letter asking Caroline Baker to befriend her, she objects. Madame was away for the day because of the holiday. Mrs M arrives a day too soon. The Indian nurse is left with her, spoils her, the nurse dies. May very ill, none could console her 4 weeks after the sad cry heard thru quiet house at night, very ill. May _____ finds a friend. The night-gown and two tiny kittens, the doll. Christina Frances Black carrying Mary Pickaback. Caroline Baker interferes writes litters and receives giving her our _______. Holiday at the seaside. Treasure in danger sailors help... “The treasure is saved, Frances speechless” recovers... Mrs ____ comes to seaside, takes both, Caroline’s self pity.

“Emily’s Ambition”

An orphan with grandmother “If thou was dressed as ____ of ____ thou couldn’t play a Lady”, Miss Cooper a Christian State School Teacher comes to her. Mr Smalley was expected. The headstone for mothers grave, silk and ribbons promises G help in London. Neighbour John Mills, clever drawing and _____ _____ _____ would like to put him to the trade in London. I refused. Father’s illness, children neglected garden... shout of food. Best clothes sold, goes to church in old ones, The grand opinion, Emily fine lady airs. The figure Hope finished “Beautiful, two would pay the bread bill.”

The trip to London- rain, empty house, caretaker Mr _____ ____ to find work has her pocket picked, works hard when she can get it because ill, kindly nursed, poorer ____. Johns letter, Grandmothers death everything claimed by her children. Homeless, alone, have to leave the house, find a room very low surroundings, through the kind visitor is able to get her things out of pawn, ____ a home Mrs Smarts illness and death, applies for teaching, how John saw her, still true apple ever after. Go to New South Wales. Mr and Mrs Mills, John and _____.

“Two Enthusiasts”

Miss ___ Erica’s Greys, wanted companions’ maiden lady country. “This be _______ Miss Beatrice” to you. “The First Sunday”. “Making friends” _____ ___ ______ and Mr Keith ill, doing good work not satisfied. Jack Carter the page taken ill. Erica helps by talking to him. “Lois” Sir Percival ill wants to see Beatrice, Raphael Everard wounded in South Africa. Telegrams every day. Return. B knew him before. “The new Baronet” ____ B entertains ____ ____. Raphael sny- all so happy. “an explosion” R almost gone. “Hard work”. Lucy helps. B urging the wed soon- a grand overcoming of self. “a tempest” . “calm after storm” another Christmas. Four Kiddies, Ha Ha Ha!!!!

Page 56, 57 & 58: Poem- Beautiful Snow

Note - I immediately recognised this poem as one I read before. I think I had read it in school or something like that. Anyway, I can see why the writer of the diary copied it from wherever they read it as it is a beautiful poem. When I googled it I found it was quite famous and by J. W. Watson. It was written in 1870. I copied it out word for word though and found that the wording in the diary was different to versions I found elsewhere. I am thinking the writer of the diary must have changed some lines in the poem from the original version. I notice that there is a Scripture reference at the bottom. In my mind I have pictured a scenario where the writer of the diary has edited the poem and added Scripture to use it as a reading for church, or devotion for family, or teaching aid for something. Of course I have nothing to back up this theory other than the fact that they have changed the poem. Still it is a lovely poem.

Page 56, 57 & 58: Poem- Beautiful Snow

Beautiful Snow

Oh! The snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and the earth below,
Over the housetops, over the streets,
Over the heads of people you meet.
Dancing____ Flirting_______ Skimming along.
Beautiful snow! It can do no wrong;
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lips in frolicsome freak;
Beautiful snow from heaven above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love!

Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go
Whirling about in maddening fun:
Chasing_____ Laughing____ Hurrying by.
It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye;
And the dogs with a bark and a bound
Snap at the crystals as they eddy around;
The town is alive, and its heart is aglow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow!

How wild the crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humour and song;
How the gay sleighs like meteors flash by,
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye:
Ringing______ Swinging_________ Dashing they go,
Over the crest of the beautiful snow;
Snow so pure as it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in time by the crowd rushing by -
To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.

Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell,
Fell like the snowflakes from heaven to hell;
Fell to be trampled as filth in the street,
Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat;
Pleading_____ Cursing______ Dreading to die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy;
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead.
Merciful God! I have fallen so low!
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow..

Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow;
Once I was loved for my innocent grace--
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face!
Father_____ Mother_____ Sisters--all,
God and myself I have lost by my fall:
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by,
Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too night,
For all that is on or above me I know,
There is nothing so pure as the beautiful snow.

How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!
How strange it should be when the night comes again
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain!
Fainting____Freezing______ Dying alone,
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan
To be heard in the streets of the crazy town,
Gone mad in the joy of snow coming down:
To be and to die in my terrible woe,
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.

Downtrodden and foul as the trampled snow,
Sinner, despair not! Christ stoopeth low,
To rescue the soul that is lost in sin,
and raise it to life and enjoyment again.
Groaning__ Bleeding____ Dying for sinners like thee,
The Crucified hung on the cursed tree!
“Thy sins are forgiven”____ “Go and sin no more”.
O God! in the stream that for sinners did flow,
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Luke 10:47, John 2:11

Page 54: clipping transcribed

Page 54: clipping transcribed

Between 53 and 54 there was a clipping that looked as though it was from the newspaper but it was probably some sort of Christian publication because it was spiritual on the front and back. It was obvious the What Would Jesus Do? Poem was the reason for this clipping because the other side was chopped up. Also there was a shopping list but I have scanned both as the same image.

What Would Jesus Do?

If washed in Jesus’ blood,
Then bear his likeness too;
And as you onward press,
Ask “What would Jesus do?”

With willing heart and hand,
Your daily task pursue,
Work, for the day wears on;
Ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Be gentle eén when wronged,
Revenge and pride subdue;
When to forgive seems hard,
Ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Be brave and do the right,
And scorn to be untrue;
When fear would whisper “Yield,”
Ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Give with a full, free hand,
God freely gives to you;
And check each selfish thought
With “What would Jesus do?”

Then let the golden thread,
Woven your life-work thro’
Reflecting Heaven’s own light,
Be, “What would Jesus do?”

-Anon

Page 51-52 Transcribed: Poem (Disappointed)

Page 51-52 Transcribed: Poem (Disappointed)

Disappointed

Our yet unfinished story, is tending all to this:
To GOD the greatest Glory, to us the greatest bliss.
If all things work together for ends so grand and blest,
What need to wonder whether each in itself is best!

If some things were omitted or altered as we would,
The whole might be unfitted to work for perfect good.
Our plans may be disjointed, but we may calmly rest;
What God has once appointed is better than our best.

We cannot see before us, but our all-seeing Friend
Is always watching o’er us, and knows the very end.
What though we seem to stumble? He will not let us fall;
And learning to be humble is not lost time at all.

What though we fondly reckoned a smoother way to go
Than where His hand has beckoned? It will be better so.
What only seemed a barrier a stepping-stone shall be;
Our God is no long tarrier, a present Help is He.

And when amid our blindness His disappointments fall,
We trust His lovingkindness whose wisdom sends them all.
They are the purple fringes that hide His glorious feet;
They are the fire-wrought hinges where truth and mercy meet;

By them the golden portal of Providence shall ope,
And lift to praise immortal the songs of faith and hope.
From broken alabaster was deathless fragrance shed,
The spikenard flowed the faster upon the Saviour’s head.

No shattered box of ointment we ever need regret,
For out of disappointment flow sweetest odors yet.
The discord that involveth some startling change of key,
The Master’s hand resolveth in richest harmony.

We hush our children’s laughter, when sunset hues grow pale;
Then, in the silence after, they hear the nightingale.
We mourned the lamp declining that glimmered at our side; --
The glorious starlight shining has proved a surer guide.

Then tremble not and shrink not when Disappointment nears;
Be trustful still, and think not to realize all fears.
While we are meekly kneeling, we shall behold her rise,
Our Father’s love revealing, an angel in disguise.

Page 50 Transcribed: Poem (God’s Sentinels)

Page 50 Transcribed: Poem (God’s Sentinels)

God’s Sentinels

Good women are God’s sentinels; in the darkest of earths night,
They hold with stout hearts silently, lifes outposts towards the light,
And at God Almighty’s roll call, among the hosts that answer “Here”
The voices of good women sound strong and sweet and clear.

Good women are brave soldiers; in the thickest of the fight,
They stand with stout hearts patiently, embattled for the night,
And though no blare of trumpet or roll of drum is heard,
Good women the world over are in the army of the Lord.

Good women save the nation though they bear not sword or gun,
Their _____ is righteousness; their will with God is one.
Each in her single person revealing God on earth
Knowing that so, and only so, is any life of worth.

Don’t talk of woman’s weakness, I tell you that this hour
The weight of this world’s future depends upon their power.
And down the rock of ages, as times flood tides are told,
The level of their heights is marked by the place that woman holds.

Helena Nichols

Page 48-49 Transcribed: Poem (The door of the lips)

Page 48-49 Transcribed: Poem (The door of the lips)

The door of the lips

Say not the words ye mean not, words are knives
That cut deep gashes in our little lives
Gashes that reach deep down within the heart
And all our lives have some smart.

Say not the word ye mean not, words will live
To mock your grief when you perchance would give
Your very life to take away the pain
That they have made; alas twill be in vain.

Ah! Many a word that was in passion said,
Has left the wound that secretly has bled,
Till love has come to be a trickling stream,
And earthly joys like some past happy dream.

Yea! All that brightens life has fled away
Leaving but work, the dreary liveloud day
Say not the thing ye mean not, there be few
Whose life without and life within are true.

Yet be ye true, yea, though ye suffer wrongs,
True, then ______ and being ____ strong;
And being strong, some little word ye speak
May help some struggling brother who is weak.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Sure your life
Is not for meanness, pettishness or strife;
Souls who have destinies, so great, so high,
May not defame their immortality.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Every word
That wrought a pang of anguish or that stirred
With secret sorrow ___ human soul,
Will bound back on thyself, like waves that throw
Themselves upon the shore, then leap again
To the deep bosom of the watery main.

Say not the thing we mean not. Harsh and chill
Is this cold world; why let thy words work ill?
Rather than wipe eyes that weep, cheer those who mourn
And whisper comfort into hearts forlorn.
Impute not wrong, less thou should add to strife
Or mar with bitterness some noble life.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Death is nigh
Thou knowst not but soon that one may lie
In cold grave, whose ears so sadly heard,
The harsh unfeeling bitter unkind word.