Poems by Hattie Howard Part 5

Margaret.

I saw her for a moment, Her presence haunts me yet, In oft-recurring visions Of grace and gladness met That marked the sweet demeanor Of dainty Margaret.

Like gossamer her robe was Around her lightly drawn, A filmy summer-garment That fairy maidens don To make them look like angels Croqueting on the lawn.

The mallet-sport became her In hue of exercise That tinged her cheek with roses; And, dancing in her eyes, Were pantomime suggestions Of having won--a prize.

No more to me a stranger Is she who occupies A place in all my musings; And brings in tender guise A thought of one so like her-- Long years in Paradise.

Dear Margaret! that "pearl-name"

Is thine--and may it be The synonym of goodness, Of truth and purity, And all enn.o.bling graces Exemplified in thee.

Christmas Bells.

Ring out, O bells, in joyful chime!

Again we hail the Christmas time; In melting, mellow atmosphere, The crown and glory of the year.

When bitterness, distrust, and awe Dissolve, like ice in winter's thaw, Beneath the genial touches of Amenity, good will, and love.

When flowers of affection grow, Like edelweiss mid alpine snow, In lives severe and beautiless, Unused to warmth or tenderness.

Let goodness, grace, and grat.i.tude Revive in music's interlude, And paean notes, till time shall cease, Proclaim the blessed reign of peace.

Ring, Christmas bells! for at the sound Sweet memories of Him abound Who laid aside a diadem To be the babe of Bethlehem.

By the Sea.

I am longing to dwell by the sea, And dip in the surf every day, And--height of subaqueous glee-- With the sharks and the porpoises play.

To novelty ever inclined-- Instead of a calm evening sail, 'Twould suit my adventurous mind To ride on the back of a whale.

I want to disport on the rocks Like a mythical mermaiden belle, And comb out my watery locks, Then dive to my cavernous cell.

I want to discover what lends Such terror to all timid folks-- That serpent whose mystery tends To make one believe it a hoax.

They say he's been captured at last; The news is too good to be true-- He's slippery, cunning, and fast, And likes notoriety too.

Once had I such longings to be A sailor--those wishes are o'er, But ever in dreams of the sea My horoscope rests on the sh.o.r.e.

Oh, give me a home by the sea-- A cottage, a cabin, a tent!

Existence should ecstasy be Till summer were joyfully spent.

A Song.

Oh, sing me a merry song!

My heart is sad tonight; The day has been so drear and long, The world has gone awry and wrong, Discouragements around me throng, And gloom surpa.s.sing night.

Oh, sing again the song for me My mother used to sing When I, a child beside her knee, Looked up for her sweet sympathy, Nor ever thought how I might be Her little hindering thing.

Oh, sing, as eventide draws near, The old-time lullabys Grandmother sang--forever dear, Though in her grave this many a year She lies who "read her t.i.tle clear To mansions in the skies."

Oh, sing till all perplexing care Has vanished with the day!

And angels ever bright and fair Come down the melody to share, And on their pinions lightly bear My happy soul away.

"Is It April?"

No, this is January, dear, The almanac's untrue; For roaring Boreas, 'tis clear, In sleet and snow and atmosphere, Will be the monarch of the year, And terror, too.

"Is it a blessing in disguise?"

Of course, things always are; But Arctic blasts with ardent skies Somehow do not quite harmonize, That try to cheat by weather-lies The calendar.

Old Ja.n.u.s must be double-faced; He promised long ago The maple syrup not to taste, Nor steal the roses from the waist Of one, a damsel fair and chaste As April snow.

O winter of our discontent!

Your reign was for a day; Behold! a scene of wonderment, A thousand tongues are eloquent, For spring, in bud and bloom and scent, Is on the way.

Christmas-Tide.

Let working-clothes be laid aside, And Industry in festal garb arrayed; Let busy brain and hand from toil and trade Relax at Christmas-tide.

As moments pa.s.s by dial, so Let gifts go round the happy circle where In giving and receiving each may share, And mutual kindness show.

The meaning deep, like mystery, That lies in holly-bough or mistletoe, May thousands never fathom--yet who know And hail the Christmas-tree.

So strong a hold on human thought Has this glad day that seasons all the year With the rich flavoring of hearty cheer, It ne'er shall be forgot.