On  my  mantel  'neath  her  picture,
Stands  thy  image,  Mother  fair.
Thro'  her  years  of  pain  and  anguish
Kept  she  it  with  tender  care.
Flowers  gathered  in  the  wildwood,
First  sweet  harbingers  of  spring,

She  would  place  before  thy  statue,
Her  love's  loyalty  to  bring.
Richer  blossoms,  man's  care  showing,
Tender  vines  or  evergreen.
In  her  suffering  hands  she'd  hasten
All  to  lay  before  her  Queen.
Why,  O  Mother,  did  she  suffer

Thro'  those  thirteen  years — so  long?

I  must  ask  not — she  ne'er  murmured,
Faith  and  love  in  her  were  strong.
46


JUtSrtdkmairs*


imui


THE  OLD   BIRCH   TREE.
There's  a  tree  before  my  window,
With  its  branches  traihng  low

Showing  grace  that  man  might  covet
In  their  swaying  to  and  fro.
Leaves  as  soft  as  downy  feathers

Kissed  by  every  zephyr  fair
Tell  their  thanks  in  graceful  motion

To  the  spring's  fresh  perfumed  air.
And  the  straying  sunbeams  color
Ev'ry  nodding  leaf  and  stem,

While  the  dew  on  white  bark  glistens —
Nature's  own  resplendent  gem.
Yet  this  tree  with  trailing  branches

Has  a  dignity  of  mien
Which  lends  a  royal  presence

To  all  the  beauteous  scene.
So  the  drooping  birch  a  lesson

To  my  spirit  whispers  low,
That  the  noble  soul  by  bending.
Far  lovier  still  may  grow.
That  grace  of  word  and  action

And  charm  of  gentle  face
Come  always  from  the  heart-depths,

And  leave  a  lasting  trace.
That  with  the  mellowing  touches
Which  sorrow's  hand  will  bring,

The  dignity  of  kindness
To  character  will  cling.
49


We'll  stoop  with  tender  manner

The  lowliest  to  greet
And  give  a  smile  of  sympathy

To  everyone  we  meet.
All  points  of  little  moment

We'll  yield  with  charming  grace,
And  meet  our  fellow-beings

True  love-light  on  our  face.
