"The flowers of June The gates of memory unbar: The flowers of June Such old-time harmonies _re_tune, I fain would keep the gates ajar,- So full of sweet enchantment are [20]
The flowers of June."
JAMES T. WHITE
[Page 395.]
To Mr. James T. White
Who loves not June [2]
Is out of tune With love and G.o.d; The rose his rival reigns, [5]
The stars reject his pains, His home the clod!
And yet I trow, When sweet _rondeau_ Doth play a part, [10]
The curtain drops on June; Veiled is the modest moon- Hushed is the heart.
Autumn
Written in childhood, in a maple grove [15]
Quickly earths jewels disappear; The turf, whereon I tread, Ere autumn blanch another year, May rest above my head.
Touched by the finger of decay [20]
Is every earthly love; For joy, to shun my weary way, Is registered above.
The languid brooklets yield their sighs, A requiem oer the tomb [25]
Of sunny days and cloudless skies, Enhancing autumns gloom.
[Page 396.]
The wild winds mutter, howl, and moan, [1]
To scare my woodland walk, And frightened fancy flees, to roam Where ghosts and goblins stalk.
The crickets sharp, discordant scream [5]
Fills mortal sense with dread; More sorrowful it scarce could seem; It voices beauty fled.
Yet here, upon this faded sod,- O happy hours and fleet,- [10]
When songsters matin hymns to G.o.d Are poured in strains so sweet,
My heart unbidden joins rehea.r.s.e; I hope its better made, When mingling with the universe, [15]
Beneath the maples shade.
Christ My Refuge
Oer waiting harpstrings of the mind There sweeps a strain, Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind [20]
The power of pain,
And wake a white-winged angel throng Of thoughts, illumed By faith, and breathed in raptured song, With love perfumed. [25]
[Page 397.]
Then His unveiled, sweet mercies show [1]
Lifes burdens light.
I kiss the cross, and wake to know A world more bright.
And oer earths troubled, angry sea [5]
I see Christ walk, And come to me, and tenderly, Divinely talk.
Thus Truth engrounds me on the rock, Upon Lifes sh.o.r.e, [10]
Gainst which the winds and waves can shock, Oh, nevermore!
From tired joy and grief afar, And nearer Thee,- Father, where Thine own children are, [15]
I love to be.
My prayer, some daily good to do To Thine, for Thee; An offering pure of Love, whereto G.o.d leadeth me. [20]
"Feed My Sheep"
Shepherd, show me how to go Oer the hillside steep, How to gather, how to sow,- How to feed Thy sheep;
[Page 398.]
I will listen for Thy voice, [1]
Lest my footsteps stray; I will follow and rejoice All the rugged way.
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