’Mid scenes of mystery life’s tide rolls onward; And tho’ some, delving deep in caves of knowledge, Have revealed wondrous facts, this life, concerning, Still blind they are to most of life’s great features; How powerless to perceive the future’s movements, Or e’en explain the present things about them! We little more than know that we’re existing, ’Mid scenes that time and tide are changing ever. _Hope_ is a star that lures men ever onward, Oft seeming near and yet forever distant; _Contentment_ is an isle where man, if ever, Has seldom dwelt amid the scenes enchanting; _Love_ is a dew-drop on the rose-bush glowing, Soon to depart as e’en the bush must perish: All things of earth are like the fleeting shadows Except the love of Him whose power and wisdom Exceeds, by far, man’s deepest understanding, And He, who clothes the lillies in their beauty, Who feeds his flocks and marks the falling sparrow, Will shield His children from life’s raging tempests, And lead them safe through waters of affliction Until, at last, beyond the vales and shadows, Their eyes behold that Land of endless beauty. _TEMPUS FUGIT._ Men sleep, but time speeds on; The sun comes out at dawn O’er hill and town, At eve goes down, But ever time speeds on. Men die--the world moves on, And when our forms are gone, New hearts arise, To seek earth’s prize; And thus the world moves on. _GLADNESS._ Let thy heart, attuned to gladness, Every fear and doubt dispel-- Banish idle thoughts of sadness, Then shall joy thy bosom swell. _THE RAINBOW._ Howe’er dark the clouds may hover O’er thy pathway, ne’er repine; Mark thou, when the storm is over, In the heaven that beautious line! [Illustration] MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. [Illustration] NOTE. My first intention was to omit the following pieces from this publication, but on recommendation of several readers I have finally decided to place them in a seperate department; expecting in either case--whether included in this book or omitted--that the youthful aspirant, in this attempt to flutter out into the literary sphere, will fall headlong and be left only to dream of those glorious heights where others triumphantly soar amid the silvery clouds of fancy. H. R. C. _THE DAWN O’ SPRING._ Yes, boys, I’m waitin’ patiently to see the dawn o’ spring-- To see the flowers in blossom an’ to hear the robins sing; An’ to see the trees an’ meadows clad in garbs o’ livin’ green; An’ to hear the merry music o’ the brook thet flows between. It makes me fairly home-sick sech cold wintry days ez these, The snow a driftin’ everywhere an’ layin’ in the trees; An’ when Jack Frost steals ’round et night an’ frescoes everything, It makes me hanker more an’ more to see the dawn o’ spring.