lower fadeth into air,
From whence its life is given--
But man's soul shining rich and rare
Ascendeth into heaven.

DAINTY DORA

TO D. M. M.

Greeks once sang a lovely song
To their maiden Cora;
But my lay floats soft along
To my Dainty Dora.

Frenchmen sing of Anne Belle,
Romans sang of Flora;
But I sing my song to tell
Of my Dainty Dora.

Scotchmen sing their songs to move
Mary or Debora;
But I sing my song of love--
Love for Dainty Dora.

Poets now a song may give
Psyche or Lenora;
But I'll sing long as I live
Just for Dainty Dora!

THE VIOLIN

Thrice hail the still unconquered King of Song!
For all adore and love the Master Art
That reareth his throne in temple of the heart;
And smiteth chords of passion full and strong
Till music sweet allures the sorrowing throng!
Then by the gentle curving of his bow
Maketh every mellow note in cadence flow,
To recompense the world of all its wrong.
Although the earth is full of cares and throes
That tempt the crimson stream of life to cloy,
Thou mak'st glad hearts and trip'st "fantastic toes,"
And fillest weary souls with mirth and joy--
The soul-entrancing cadence of thy strings
Proclaims thee Song's unconquered "King of kings"!

WOMAN

I call thee angel of this earth,
For angel true thou art
In noble deeds and sterling worth
And sympathetic heart.
I, therefore, seek none from afar
For what they might have been,
But sing the praise of those which are
That dwell on earth with men.

For when man was a tottling wee,
Snug nestling on thy breast,
Or sporting gay upon thy knee,
Oh, thou who lovest him best;
An overflowing stream of love,
Sprung at his very birth,
And made thee gentle as a dove,
Fair angel of this earth.

Thou cheerest ever blithesome youth
With songs and fervent prayers,
And fillest heart with love and truth
A store for future cares.
Thou lead'st him safely in his prime,
True guide of every stage,
And then at last, as fades the time,
Thou comfortest his age.

Like as the sunshine after rain,
Far chasing 'way the mist,
Thou soothest human grief and pain,
Fleet messenger of bliss.
In battles where the sword and shield
Full lay the mighty low,
Thou hov'rest ever o'er the field,
To ease life's ebb and flow!

Thou standest, ever standest near,
Before man's waning eyes,
An angel true to him more dear
Than all beyond the skies!
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