The Falls of the Rhine A wonderful work of Almighty God They sparkle like diamonds, glitter like gold The silvery spray leaps into the air And when about noon-tide the glorious sun But Oh! friends take care of the treacherous falls Goodbye! Lovely falls, I must hasten away | Autumn And is the glorious Summer past! From the boughs the leaves are falling After Autumns’ slow decaying Nov 15 1890 (This poem gained the prize offered by the “Lady’s Pictorial” for the best poem of 3 verses, subject Autumn)  |
To the Cats of Brunnen Compound verses by Mrs Everett & me to the cats of Brummen O ye little cats Farewell, ye blessed cats And when again we come E Theodora Williams
A Moonlight Night The silvery clouds flit o’er the sombre sky, and Her touch is like a fairy’s mystic wand A big brown owl flits noiseless o’er the world The dusky moths there midnight watches keep The bat flies on his midnight rambles dark But see! The stars pale in the Eastern sky Snuff, snuff said Pussy Cat |
To Baby Christopher Eyes like wet violets, cheeks rosy red Dear innocent face and each little limb With 10 little toes, looking like – well, He’s the King of the house, although he’s so small Our darling, our blessing, our hope & our joy Jan: 5. 1891
A Poem
Keep following, following alway The road is often thorny, dear But “He whom I loveth I chasten” He has wept & sorrowed oft, dear For one day He’ll come in glory, dear T ’is not all weeping & woe, dear March 1st 1891
To Lake Michigan T ’is winter & the naked trees The snow lies deep o’er all the land I see a broad & noble Lake The Sea-gulls swoop above the wave The frozen foam-flecks on it lie Jan 26 1893 |
To the West Wind To what shall I liken thee beautiful western wind? You come with the breath of the sea on your pinions You fly with swift feet o’er the paths of the ocean You frolic about in the glorious sunshine You often are laughing & often are weeping |
To a Butterfly Only a butterfly! Easter 1894 |
Parody on “Lady Clara Vere de Vere”
William Ewart Gladstone dear, from me you shall not win renown
You thought to ruin Erin’s Isle for pastime, while you were in town
But though you didn’t quite succeed, you cherish still the little plan
Go home & mutilate your trees and sell the chips! – deluded man
William Ewart Gladstone dear, I know you proud to bear the name
Of premier of old England’s Isles, then, William Ewart, fie for shame
That when a nation trusts to you its power & begs, you lead the way.
You do abuse that trust & power and lead the vulgar herd astray
William Ewart Gladstone dear, some meeker pupil you must find
For were you king of all that is, I could not vote for such a mind!
No, you must stand inside the booth, & tip the wink to Hodge & Giles.
They’ll vote for him who gives to them the strongest beer;
Most coaxing smiles!
William Ewart Gladstone dear, you put strange memories in my head.
‘Tis n’t so very long ago since William from a moo-cow fled
How fortunate there was a tree for poor old grand papa to climb!
Or else no doubt that cow & he’d have had a very lovely time!
William Ewart Gladstone, we the Home Rule bill no longer fear.
For like some more wild schemes of yours, it slowly ‘gins to disappear
You held your course without remorse, to ruin England, Ireland too.
But all the time, you grand old fox, I think you saw it wouldn’t do.
October 1893
To the New Year
I open the window dim with frost
The stars shine bright & clear
And borne on the breeze come the muffled chimes
That toll for the dying year
And as I listen to them, with a feeling akin to tears
The earth seems throbbing with the silent music of the sphere
As from the old, grey turret, they strike upon my ear
Oh Bells! The sweetest, saddest sounds that mortal man can hear
When e’er I listen to them my eyes with tears are wet
They call up such sad memories that I would fain forget
I wonder, if in Heaven they have the sweet bells there!
No doubt Maybe, for in that happy land is everything most fair
And in that realm of fadeless joy
They cannot make one weep.
How peacefully the old year dies!
Like falling fast asleep.
The moon & stars above him,
Keep silent watch & ward.
And an angel stands beside him
To loose the silver cord
And for a shroud the pure white snow
That in the moonlight shines
And the dirge of the bells is wailing
Among the sombre pines?
The Old Year’s dead! – and all its joys
Forever past recall
The sorrows & the blessing that it brought to great & small
But hark! The Bells which rang his knell
Peal joyfully & clear. To bid the whole
World welcome in another Glad New Year.
1898
Winter
Oh! ‘Tis weary in the winter, to hear the wild wind sighing
As it drives along the few sere leaves, that have lost their Autumn red
Oh! ‘Tis weary in the winter, when the light of day is dying
To look in vain for one bright star in the dull expanse o’erhead
Oh! ‘Tis weary in the winter to hear alone the robin
That minstrel sweet who sits & sings upon the frosty spray
Or perchance the fitful notes of a lonely Thrush that’s sobbing
His sad lament for the summer & the swallows flown away
Oh! ‘Tis weary in the winter, to see mourning after mourning
O’ver all the land th’ unbroken sheet of dead white snow & rime
To see angry clouds round the setting sun & stormy skies at dawning
And the days creep leaden – footed in the dreary winter time
And 'tis weary in the winter to sigh with eager longing
For a glimpse of sunny sky again, for the gay notes of the lark
While all about the window the mad snowflakes are thronging
And the icy arms of phantom trees gleam white against the dark
Aug 1894
For Mother at Xmas 1894 The day is fading in the West I sit within the dusky room Or has she taken flight beyond Where all the hours are golden days While hidden in their chalices Where kindly acts, like little fays But stay! I’d set to write a song Blame thou my fickle muse, for I | Lines written to Canon Smith, West Stafford Rectory Dorset, on his 87th birthday
Thy birthday dawns, & friends are flocking round, Your little unknown friend would join them too (N.B this refers to a card painted with sweet peas with which I accompanied the verses) ETW So mild thy countenance, & so benign, Oh! on that kindly face, that silver head Sept 19 ‘94 |
An Easter Morning The sun rose early that Easter Morning The birds rose early that Easter Morning The Lark rose early that Easter Morning Oh! happy Lark! Who could call unmeaning All nature rose early that Easter Morning Crowned with lilies, & daffodils golden All things seem happy this Easter Morning Easter 1895 | The May Moon A golden sea, a dazzling sky The night-wind from the cooler East And pimpernels the meadow’s stars The dusky eve draws on apace A hush in all the listening sea A curve’d feather, argent bright June 19th |
