The Project Gutenberg eBook of Home Poems, by Kate Louise Wheeler.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Home Poems, by Kate Louise Wheeler
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
Title: Home Poems
Author: Kate Louise Wheeler
Release Date: August 21, 2016 [EBook #52865]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME POEMS ***
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Paul Marshall and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
I am a New Hampshire girl. I have writtenthese poems in the interests of Christian Endeavor.My friends are so much pleased with them that Ihave had them published for our mutual benefit.
The State of New Hampshire is dear to us all,Her hills and her mountains respond to the call,Her onflowing rivers in gladness awakeTo sound forth the praises of Old Granite State.
Her heroes undaunted in times of distress’Neath the flag of the union went forth with the rest;When duty is calling and danger is nighThe Old Granite State will conquer or die.
Her sons and her daughters are loyal and brave,’Neath the banner of Christ they march onward to save;In the battle for right which they undertakeAs firm as the granite in Old Granite State.
From loftiest height to lowliest shoreNew Hampshire, our home land, is our’s evermore!“For Christ and the Church” she resounds the glad call,The Old Granite State sends a greeting to all.
He makes the most of life, who soonest learnsThat ’tis not best to try for heights too high,Nor yet to be content with vales too low;But day by day upon his upward way,Accepts the possible for which he yearns,Rejects those things that far beneath him lie,And asks the strength of slow success, to know,Which gains the Heaven for which we mortals pray.
The sun is flooding all the land and sky,The waves are dancing o’er the deep blue sea;The world is gay and yet, they say, not I—Since absence makes a gulf ’tween you and me.
When you were here the clouds were in the sky,The rain-drops fell, the sun was hid from view;The world was dull and yet, they say, not I—For my gay world is centred, love, in you.
When you are near no matter what the sky,No matter what the sea nor what the weather;The world is gay and so, my love, am I—The days are fairest when we are together.
Around the world they ring to-day,And they will ring forever;Like beauteous birds that sweetly sing,Good cheer and comfort they shall bring;And saving souls along the way,Will be forgotten never.
Both autocrat and peasant poor,With heaven born inspiration,Composed these grand and soulful themesThat wake the dreamer from his dreams,And shall, while patriot rights endure,Arouse a loyal nation.
The mighty chimes ring out the fameOf him who wrote with feeling,And while sweet symphonies prolong,He lives again to move the throng,And preaches in Jehovah’s nameFrom spires where bells are pealing.
In all the wide world there is not anotherWhose name is so dear as the sweet name of mother.The babe’s tiny head finds it’s most perfect rest,When pillowed from harm on the fair mother breast;The youth, from all sorrow, temptation and care,Seeks the warm mother heart and finds comfort there;The woman, whose virtues are whispered above,Will daily thank God for the dear “mother love;”The man, be he lover, or husband, or brother,Will ever hold sacred the love of his mother.Tho’ the years may have turned her tresses to gray,And the rose from her cheek may have faded away,Tho’ her step, once so light, may have feebled with age,And her eyes may have grown too dim for the page,Tho’ the hand that was once so dainty and fair,May have changed with the seasons of toiling and care,Tho’ the voice that to youth and it’s freedom belongs,May have lost all its sweetness for lullaby songs,Yet the years that shall make the dear mother grow old,Will but add to her nature a blessing untold;—Tho’ they rob her of youth, she retains, as a prize,A love more mature and a counsel more wise.Tho’ her life lose it’s sunshine and burdens oppress,Yet the love of the mother will never be less;[Pg 8]Tho’ her children may wander away from the fold,And the world shuts them out in the darkness and cold,Tho’ their friends may prove faithless and sin may allure,Yet of mother’s true love they can ever be sure.Tho’ to far away lands they may wilfully roam,The fond mother’s prayer will be guiding them home.If they climb to the height of honor and fame,They should whisper, in credit, the dear mother name.Her love inspires all that is noble and good,And Purity reigneth o’er sweet mother-hood.Tho’ the great word applaud, the praise of anotherIs nothing compared with the praises of mother.The earth home is dreary, when she is away,Her presence adds sunshine to each changing day,And Heaven, in it’s glory, will be the more fair,When the spirit of mother shall find entrance there.
Beneath the waves of ocean blue,The precious pearls are lost from view;Within the darkness of the mine,The gold and uncut diamonds shine;From human sight beneath the sky,The little seeds in waiting lie.
Within the mind, like pearls of white,Some hidden thoughts await the light;Which, brightly polished, shall outshineThe varied treasures of the mine;And like the seeds that wake to flowers,Shall bless and brighten all life’s hours.
I see her smile in sleepAnd to her crib I creepTo kiss the baby face where dimples play;I smooth her sunny hairAnd breathe to God a prayerThat He will teach me how to lead the way.
I see her smile in sleepAnd to her couch I creepTo kiss the saintly face where peace doth stay;I smooth her silvery hairAnd breathe to God a prayerThat He will teach me how to find the way.
He, who to elevate himselfLabors with earnest will,Forgets, that should he wisely tryTo elevate the minds near byAnd public needs to fill,Will still continue to advanceAnd while their cause he does enhanceWill be their teacher still.
Under the pines, on a summer’s day,I list to a whisper from far away,And, lying low, with my half-closed eyes,Behold the beauty of fairer skies.Some say ’tis the sound of the sighing sea,Whose distant murmer steals over me;Some say ’tis the baby breeze instead,That rocks in the branches overhead;But I know it is neither wave nor breeze,On shining sands and in leafy trees;’Tis the music sweet of a voice divine,That whispers peace to each pensive pine.
Pray not for self if thou wouldst be most blest,—The prayers for others are for self the best.Christ is not first if self be first in prayer;He blesses most when we for others care.Forget thyself if thou wouldst Christlike be,Praying for others, some will pray for thee.While self’s own burdens are of prayer a part“Thy kingdom come” is prayed not from the heart.Pray not for light to solve thy problems right,But be thyself to other souls a light.God gave thee mighty strength to help the weak,And yet thy prayers of thine own weakness speak;God gave thee power to comfort and to teach,And lift souls up to heights they strive to reach,And yet thy prayers ascend to His white throne,Pleading for comfort for thyself alone;Thou prayest too for wisdom and release,And hands to draw thee upward into peace,Forgetting that which Christ would have thee know,—Peace comes to those who make peace here below;Forgetting that His arms shall draw thee nearOnly as thine are held to others here;That wisdom comes to thee each passing hourBy teaching others what is in thy power;That comfort comes by thy own word and deed,[Pg 16]Which comforts others in the hour of need.If thou wouldst pray for self, ask God to giveMore power in prayer that other souls may live.To live right is to pray and to believeThat Christ will hear, and that “thou shalt receive.”Two gifts are thine, if thou wouldst pray aright,—Peace here below, and Heaven’s eternal light.
When baby’s soul is claimed beyond the skies,And little eyes are closed in final sleep;When angels hush our darling’s cooing cries,What words are there to comfort those who weep?
When broken playthings, lying on the floor,And treasured toys have all been put aside,When baby wakes to play with them no more,And fondest hopes that brightened life have died;
When dimpled hands no longer seek the face,And baby lips no more shall feel the kiss;When tiny feet have found their resting-place,What shall be said in such an hour as this?
When baby’s crib is idly standing near,And cherished form is laid from human sight,When loved ones think they even now can hearThe little cry that woke them in the night;
When mother puts the baby gowns away,And ’round her neck can almost seem to feelThose clinging arms, whose touch will with her stay,What helpful thoughts can Sympathy reveal?
An unkept field, whose grasses greet the sun,And pure, white daisies spread like fallen snow;The shady nooks, where trout brooks gaily run,And, ’mong the trees, the farm-house quaint and low.
Like some worn soldier on the battle fieldsIt stands upon the old familiar ground,And to the past it’s former strength it yields,While naught but desolation broods around.
’Neath shutters closed the phœbe builds her nest,While near the eaves the little sparrows fly;All undisturbed they sing their young to rest,As did a mother in the years gone by.
The wicker gate is falling to decay,The narrow paths with growing weeds abound;The long, low shed thro’ which the sunbeams stray,Is leaning eastward to the grassy ground.
The barn door creaks upon it’s hinges old;The prop that stayed it from the winds that blowNo more stands guard against the heat and cold—The summer’s rain and winter’s drifts of snow.[Pg 20]
The lofts, once laden with the new mown hay,No longer echo with the merry din;From beam to beam, where children loved to play,The spiders many a silken cobweb spin.
No more the tinkle of the distant bellDisturbs the hush of daylight’s waning hours;The pasture bars, beside a covered well,Are twined with grape-vines and with fair wild flowers.
The “Bouncing Bet” is growing near the gate,The climbing roses bloom beside the door;The brave “Sweet William,” left alone to fate,Has struggled upward thro’ the grass once more.
The clover blossoms, pink and white and red,Fill all the balmy air with perfume sweet;The honey-suckle proudly bends it’s headClose to the door-stone worn by many feet.
Where once a maiden slied a bit of greenWithin her shoe, and there expectant stood,To-day the self same “Grandma’s pride” is seen,—A little bunch of fragrant southern-wood.
The low-eaved porch supports the clinging vine,While thro’ the roof the summer rain-drops fall;Upon the floor a rusty hook and line,A well-worn bench and silence over all.[Pg 21]
A well-sweep, overgrown with moss and mould,Shelters a hornet’s nest within it’s nook;Above the running waters clear and coldAn old tin dipper hangs upon it’s hook.
The dull-edged scythe swings idly in the sun,A grindstone crumbles ’neath the maple’s shade;A cart-wheel and the faded coat of oneWho long ago beneath the sod was laid.
Tho’ gone the smile of each familiar faceAnd merry voices break no more the calm,Yet Memory sweet shall hallow all the placeAnd flood with peace the old deserted farm.
Life is a school for all mankind,Where daily lessons are assignedAnd each may do his best;God is the Master who will teachThe truths that lie within our reachAnd leave to us the rest.
Each has his proper place at startAnd each can learn his little partIf earnestly he tries;Altho’ his standard may be low,He surely to the head will goWho on himself relies.
Each has a chance among the restTo do his worst or do his bestAnd his must be the choice,—Either to break the golden ruleAnd cause confusion in life’s school,Or heed the Master’s voice.
The discipline is not severe,Altho’ the Master we should fearTo keep us from a wrong;There is no need to sigh and fret,Or to despair, with lashes wet,Because our task seems long.[Pg 24]
The lessons that so oft’ we spurnWe know that some time we must learn,Then why should we delay?He stays behind who is the dunce,The wisest does his task at onceAnd goes upon his way.
The Master’s sympathy prevailsWith him who tries altho’ he fails,For He will help not chide;When rest and honors have been wonHe hears the Master say: “Well done,”And he is satisfied.
Faith, the angel of my prayer,Hope, to lighten every care,Love, to lift life’s heavy yoke,These the graces I invoke;But the greatest of the threeIs the last—sweet charity.
“Come and play with me,” he said;And I saw his curly headPeeping thro’ the fence below.He was four and I was threeAnd he beckoned unto meSo I could not say him no.
“Come and live with me,” he said;And I saw his manly headWhere the threads of silver grow.He was passing forty-threeAnd he pleaded long with meSo I could not say him no.
Tho’ clouds arise, in fairest skies,And sunlight glories steal away;Tho’ snow-flakes fall, on roof and wall,Till all the world is chill and gray;Yet why complain? The earth shall gainAn added glory from on high,For rain and snow that fall belowWill bring more sunshine by and by.
Tho’ doubts we find, within the mind,And hope and pleasure steal away;Tho’ trials fall, to one and all,Till life itself looks cold and gray;Yet why despair? God has a care,And He will comfort while we sigh,For griefs and tears, within the years,Will bring more blessings by and by.
To self and to God be loyal and true,Fear not what others may say or may do,But what at best you appear;Gird on your armor and stand for the right,Honest in purpose and earnest in might,Then shall your soul be sincere.
Banish each doubt and deception and dream,Be the real saint that to others you seem,Dare to face tempters alone;Lift up your banner and fear not the foe,Valiant in service wherever you go,Sincerity claimeth her own.
A baby played beside a covered well,And peeping thro’ he saw the waters clear;He clapped his hands, enchanted by the spell,And knew not that the Reaper hovered near.
The sunlight flooded all the summer sky,A little bird sang sweetly from her nest;While troubled waters hushed his piteous cryThe baby soul had found it’s perfect rest.
A woman stood among the flowers fairAnd ’neath her bridal veil she blushed unseen;She said: “I will,” and breathed a silent prayerAnd knew not that a shadow fell between.
An angel led her from the sacred placeAnd whispered of another’s priceless love;While smiles yet lingered on her happy faceThe bride’s pure soul had found it’s joy above.
A manly figure near an altar stoodTo consecrate his life to God on high;He thought the future promised every goodAnd knew not that his summons sounded nigh.
The Sabbath sunshine bathed his cheek and brow,And Hope deferred, now triumphed from his eyes;While thrilled his soul with an unspoken vow’Twas called to nobler work in Paradise.[Pg 38]
When skies are brightest threatening clouds appear,Thro’ deepening shades the welcome sunlight steals;When hearts are happiest sorrows hover near’Tis well for us that God the future shields.
He planted a tree, on the old home land,Where the summer sunlight stayed,Tho’ he knew full well he should never stand’Neath it’s fruit and pleasing shade.
He penciled a book, in his life’s last year,When the inspiration came,Tho’ he knew his heart it could never cheerWith it’s gold and certain fame.
But the leaves of his tree grew, day by day,While it’s fruit the hungry fed;And the fruit of his book will ever stayWhile it’s leaves are daily read.
To live and learn, to die and to forget,To be forgotten in the by and by;If this is all, why need we linger yetTo do our little part, or even try?
But is this all? We learn and we forget,And are forgotten, on this earth below;We live, we die, then, freed from vain regret,We live again, and greater wisdom know.
His reverend head was bowed upon his hands;When in the lamp-light, thro’ his study door,Sleep’s angel came, who wisely understandsHow burdened hearts can be revived once more.
The day, with all it’s quiet hours, was past;The sermon, that his weary brain prepared,Had, with a hopeful heart, been preached at last,And yet it seemed that not one listener cared.
Life’s crosses looked too great for him to bear,And Hope was crushed beneath his spirit’s weight;His soul, at last, had yielded to despairAnd prayed for freedom, ere it was too late.
The answer came, but not as he had prayed,—Life conquered death and sleep had mastered all;Like some fond mother gently now she stayedTo soothe, and bless, and wake him at her call.
Sleeping he dreamed that, on her heavenly way,The angel Death had listened to his prayer,And led him upward to the endless day,Beyond the valley known as Heart’s Despair.
Above, the gates of Heaven were swinging wide,And he beheld the City of the King;His angel friends were standing close beside,Who, near the throne, the songs of Zion sing;[Pg 46]
And, as he looked, a chariot of goldWas passing o’er the pavement pearly-laid;A gleam of heavenly light he could beholdWhose radiance warmed his soul and with him stayed.
“Who passes?” cried he; “Tell his honored name,And whither will the golden chariot go?”“To all the world,” the answer sweetly came;—“’Tis Christ, the King of Heaven and earth below.”
Then, in the brightness of that blessed light,He followed on, with never-tiring speed;The chariot wheels he ever kept in sight,—For strength was given, in the hour of need.
The chariot stopped, beside a crystal stream,And Christ, descending, loosed the reins of gold;Then, gazing downward past the heavenly gleam,“Here lies the earth,” said he; “Come and behold!”
The follower came, as comes the wandering dove,When seeking shelter from the storms of night;And as he looked from that great height above,He saw below a strange and sickening sight;—
The earth was there, like some great marshy tract,With crowds, like blind men, wandering to and fro;Some struggling upward, others falling back,And crying out: “We know not where to go!”[Pg 47]
He saw among them many of his ownTo whom he preached the word of God each year;There stood the little chapel, built of stone,Where once he grieved, because some would not hear.
The darkness came; he heard their piteous cry,—Weeping and moaning sounded thro’ the air,As, one by one, they lost “the way” near byAnd souls were yielding to a death’s despair.
He saw it all as never seen before,—His eyes were opened, now he could not stay;Standing with Christ his spirit did implore:—“O send me back that I may point the way!”
Dreaming, he woke; the lamp was burning dim,—The moon-beams thro’ the casement softly crept;A revelation had been made to himWhich changed his heart, the while he sweetly slept.
Despair departed, love for life-work came;The holy dream had made the man more wise.He knelt to breathe a prayer in Jesus’ name,While angels sang in peaceful Paradise.
’Tis not so hard to do what God desires,If, while we trust and labor on and pray,We look not back upon a Past decried,Nor forward to a Future yet untried,But do what Conscience prompts and soul requires,And live within the hours which make to-day.
The Past is gone. The failure and the wrongWe cannot expiate by vain regret;Forgiven have they been, and if to-dayWe wish to live more nearly as we pray,We must awake a grander, sweeter songWithin those hours which have been given yet.
While pondering o’er the failures of the then,We make a failure of the now and here;For life to-day shall lose it’s sunshine brightIf it recalls the shadows of last night.While past mistakes possess the minds of menThe heart itself will have no power to cheer.
To-day we breathe, we move, we speak, we live,To-morrow’s sun for us may never rise.All that we do, or hope to do, or say,Must be confined within our short to-day,And all the blessings that our life can giveMust be out-poured before the daylight dies.[Pg 52]
As we shall hope for nobler, higher things,While up life’s mount we seek the Heavenly wayWe must not measure, lest we may despair,The height to be yet gained by work and prayer;But like the lark, who soars and yet who sings,Make most of time God gives in our to-day.
If future plans awaken thought and mind,And we shall say:—“Some day, some hour, not yet,”We rob the now of that divine rewardWhich follows duty, given us by God,And in to-day no pleasure shall we find;And thus to-day becomes a past regret.
There falls upon us yet the morning light,And if to-day we gladly do our best,Our life itself will be most pure and sweet,For the to-days make up the life complete.The “little things” are pleasing in God’s sight,And humble duties nobly done bring rest.
Then, Soul, awaken from thy drowsy sleep!Dream not of past nor yet of future days,But rouse thyself to-day to grander things.The smile, the word, the loving deed take wingsTo bear thy soul and others up the steep,Where Life Eternal sings its endless praise.
When shadows fall, and earth is gray,Life seems less grand, the heart less gay;The things that vexed in morning light,Have grown to sorrows in the night.
When morning dawns, and earth is bright,Life seems so grand, the heart so gay,That Sorrows, nursed all thro’ the night,Wakened by Wisdom, fly away.
The moon-light falls upon the sea,And leaves a path of glory;The waves creep high upon the shore,And roll the shining pebbles o’er;Then, running back in noisy playTo meet the ever-dashing spray,Like loyal lovers, gay and free,Repeat the same sweet story.
The light-house, on the lonely isle,Where shadows now are creeping,Like sentinel, so true and brave,Stands forth to stay each coming wave;In raging storm as well as calmThis stalwart giant fears no harm,And thro’ the night keeps watch the whileThe fisher folk are sleeping.
A little boat now comes to view,And, in the path of splendor,It seems to drift with idle oar,To distant moon and unknown shore,—Till human vision, at its best,Can scarce discern, on ocean’s crest,That tiny speck that rocks the twoTo love dreams new and tender.[Pg 60]
The stars are peeping from the blue,The “milky way” revealing;A row of houses, on the sand,Like line of fronted soldiers stand;How dimly, thro’ the deepening night,The cottage candle throws its light,While breezes blow the curtains through—A glimpse of home life stealing!
Some faint reflections on the deepAnd to wet sands are creeping;While, from the light within the towerWhose steady glare reveals its power,A path of red on land and sea,Where waves make sweetest melody,Reflects and soothes the mermaid’s sleepIts hourly night watch keeping.
O beauteous evening! Peace above,O’er sea and shore is falling;On such a calm and glorious nightThe human heart is nearer right;God seems so great, and Heaven so fair,That man and earth can not compare;On night like this, the souls that loveAre roused to higher calling.
If you want both fame and moneyYou will do just as you can;If you do not care for eitherYou can do just as you will;And, among the moving masses,He will be the wisest manWho adopts these words of counselThat shall help him up life’s hill.
If you wish to be to-morrowWhat you cannot be to-day,You must make the most of momentsWhile to-day is passing by;If you would do in the futureWhat you really wish and pray,Do at present what you can doAnd be happy while you try.
Should you lose both fame and moneyYou will prosper all the more,—For you’ll have an educationThat shall loose you from your chainsAnd enable you to masterWhat you could not learn before,—How to utilize resourcesAnd rely upon your brains.
Never can I forget Thee, Christ divine,Never grow weary of this love of Thine,Never deny Thee, from Thee turn away,Nor cease to love Thee every passing day.When storms of life are threatening very near,Thy voice, dear Saviour, let me ever hear;And when my sky is very clear and brightBe Thou my sun, my never-failing light.While I shall live, be Thou a life for me,And when I die, my resurrection be.When I shall enter Heavenly mansions fair,Be Thou the first to meet and greet me there.While, thro’ the endless years of which I dream,I touch the golden harp, be Thou my theme,On earth, in Heaven, forevermore be mine,—My first, my last, my only Christ divine.
Faith is needed every day,—Faith to work and faith to pray;Faith to learn and faith to teach,Faith to practice, faith to preach;Faith to love and faith to charm,Faith to quicken, faith to calm;Faith to bless and faith to chide,Faith to follow, faith to guide;Faith to prove and faith to know,Faith to stay and faith to go;Faith to urge and faith to keep,Faith to waken, faith to sleep;Faith to do and faith to dare,Faith to bear and faith to share;Faith to bind and faith to break,Faith to give and faith to take;Faith to stand and faith to yield,Faith to heal, faith to be healed,Faith to pardon, faith to seek,Faith to listen, faith to speak;Faith to wait and faith to try,Faith to live and faith to die.
Before the little feet had weary grownWith toiling up life’s path from day to day,The Master sent an angel from His homeTo show our baby girl the nearer way.
Before the tiny hands were clasped in prayer,To ask of Him—as often seemeth best—To lighten burdens sometimes hard to bear,Those hands were folded in eternal rest.
Before the baby eyes, so blue and bright,Had o’er life’s lessons oft’ been known to weep,The Saviour filled them with a Heavenly light,And closed them, for a little while, in sleep.
Before the little heart could know a sadness,Such as is ours who wait with falling tears,He stilled its pulsing—hushed it into gladness—No griefs to bear thro’ all the coming years.
Before the baby soul had known a wrong,Or tempted been by sins earth below,’Twas winged to Heaven, by angels’ sweetest song,Pure and unspotted as the drifted snow.
Home to our Master in that Land above,Never to know a heart-ache nor a care;Would we recall her, whom we truly love,To earthly home from Home Eternal there?[Pg 74]
Home to our Father in that Land of Light,Where angels guard her while we watch and pray,Where we shall meet her if we live aright,—For Home with Jesus is not far away;
And when, some day, we hear our Saviour’s voice,We’ll breathe to Him above a thankful prayer,And hearts, once filled with sorrow, will rejoiceThat those we love are waiting for us there;
And when Heaven’s gracious gate is opened wideTo show, to gladdened souls, Eternal Day,A child, with sunny hair, will stand beside,To sing a welcome and to lead the way.
Not long we wait,—our baby goes before,Spared from the sorrows which life here doth give,—Happy with Jesus on that Heavenly Shore,Where those He loves forevermore may live.
Thro’ patient toil we’ll reach that Better LandWhere now our darling finds her sweetest rest,And then I think that we shall understand,—And say, with happy hearts, that God knows best.
The whole vast pyramid, Humanity,Is built on Influence, an unseen power,Whose great foundation stone is laid at start,Upon which rises day by day a part;Until the whole, imperfect though complete,Awaits the Judge at close of life’s brief hour.
Like swallows who have found a summer sun,And frozen buds which wake to springtime light,So starved Humanity, which seeks awhileThe warmth and light of earth’s most friendly smile,Bursts into fuller life and glories newBy strength of influence daily used aright.
As song of bird invites to melodySome other soaring songster of the air,Until a chorus, wakened far and near,Fills quiet hour with music and with cheer,So playful Zephyr may Æolus wakeTo scatter clouds and make the earth more fair.
As raindrop falling to a fainting fieldMay summon forth a sweet, refreshing shower,So little words may speed on loving wings,Till earth awakes and all the glad world sings;Till fainting hearts revive and souls are saved,By needed influence of cheer and power.[Pg 77]
If life with Socrates could make man wise,If Aristides could make mortal just,Then life with Christ can make a Christlike man,Who lives, reflecting Christ, as best he can;Whose nature is o’ertaken, sanctified,Whose influence ensures a sacred trust.
The spell of Christ-life, deepening o’er the soul,Refines and softens conduct, speech, and mind;And what men think, and feel, and do, and say,Will make the earth less hopeful or more gay,—Will show a daring demon to the world,Or prove the loving God to mortal-kind.
When eastern skies are bathed in mists of gray,And all the heralds of the night are gone,I watch two shadows, moving o’er the way,Beyond the dim, uncertain light of morn.
Adown the years they come, like fleeting dreams,—No sound disturbs the hush of daylight fair,Save song of bird, or many murmuring streams,Like sweetest music filling all the air.
Near, and yet nearer, till each sunlight rayReveals no shadows, as they onward glide,But two young friends, upon life’s unknown way,Eager to journey o’er a path untried.
Youth knows no fear; the day is near at handAnd Mother Earth breathes forth a welcome sweet;Thus do they wander o’er the sun-lit landUntil they come to where the two paths meet.
They pause a moment, in their eager flight,Uncertain which to take upon the way;But choose the path now filled with morning lightWhere flowers bloom and gentle zephyrs play.
Now Pleasure points the way to paths unknown,The prospect brightens, as new scenes appear;—The world invites them,—they are not alone,But join a moving throng, who know no fear.[Pg 80]
To one, a still voice comes,—a breath, a prayer,Breathed by a brother, in life’s changing day;And, gazing up, he leaves the valley fairTo seek that other path,—the surer way.
He climbs the height; the vale beneath him lies,And angels guide his faltering steps aright;To gain the summit manfully he tries,—Above he sees the day’s eternal light;
But looking downward, to the valley fair,Where, in youth’s morn, his weary feet have trod,He sees his fellow traveler lingering thereAnd, in his strength, he leads him up to God.
Happy is he who finds the heavenly wayAnd lends to doubting souls a helping hand;God’s light directs him, step by step, each day,—God’s glory waits him in the Promised Land.
We never know what we can do,Until we try;He who accomplishes the least,Stands idly by;While he who makes the most of life,Keeps plodding on,And earns at least his perfect restWhen strength is gone.
We never know what we can do,Until we dare;He who would gain the victor’s place,Must not despair;For tho’ life’s burdens seem too great,The way too long,He will succeed who conquers doubtBy prayer and song.
How beautiful is youth that grandly gleamsWith bright illusions and aspiring dreams!Book of beginnings, such as Fiction paints,With model heroines and hero saints.
Each precious page with expectation teems,Filling the mind as rain-drops fill the streams;Sweet and refreshing as the summer showerAnd adding charms to every passing hour.
Each coming chapter with a new hope beams,But how ’twill end the wisest little dreams;And when, at last, the book of Youth is doneA less romantic sequel is begun.
We are crossing little bridgesThat we never reach at all;We are climbing mighty mountainsThat are not upon our way;We are looking for a twilightWhile the morning sunbeams fall,And the troubled thoughts of futureTake the gladness from to-day.
We are losing Nature’s glories,Which are meant for us to see;We are finding weeds and grassesWhere the pretty flowers grow;We are looking for the storm cloudsWhich perchance may never be,And we quite forget the sunshineWhich to-day is ours below.
We are filling life’s brief seasonFull of worry and regret,And the thoughts of past and futureRob the present of its best;And the happiness of othersWe perchance do oft forget.Past regret and future worryBanish peace and conquer rest.[Pg 84]
Life is ours! The day is passing,And the Present is our all;Past has gone, and future comethIn the moments one by one.If to-day we do our duty,Love the Saviour, hear His call,Earth will bless and Heaven receive us,And His words will be: “Well done.”
Not he who sins, but he who does God’s willFinds, in life’s cup, some added sorrows still;Not he who soars to heights of rank and fame,But he who climbs, is he who bears Christ’s name;Not he who wins, but he who daily triesShall best deserve the joys of Paradise.
Why do I love thee and how do I knowThat thou art the dearest of all to me?Why do the moments, wherever I go,Seem brighter and better because of thee?
Why, mid the work of the long, weary day,Are burdens of life more easy to bear?Why pause I so often, upon life’s way,To ask God’s blessing for thee in prayer?
Why does my soul, once so tempted and sad,Awaken to thoughts both noble and pure?Why does the loving thee make my heart glad,—God seem the nearer and Heaven the more sure?
Why, in my dreaming, thy voice do I hear,Thy face do I see, and feel thy caress?Why, dreaming or waking, seemeth thou near,To soothe, to comfort, to help and to bless?
I pass others by, in the crowded street,Whose faces, it may be, are fair as thine,Yet thine, thine only, to me is most sweet,—Thou only canst waken this love of mine.
Another’s low word and sweet, winning smile,Tho’ sought by many, when given to meI dare to confess can charm for awhile,But love meaneth more and I love but thee.[Pg 87]
I hear other voices, see other smiles,But hearing and seeing bringeth unrest;Laughter and music the evening beguiles,—Thy voice and thy smile for me are the best.
Why do I love thee? Ask God why he gaveTo thee, and thee only, that power divineMy heart to touch and my soul to save,And then I can answer why thou art mine.
Why do I love thee? Ask God to revealWhy He hath made thee so unlike the rest;—True and unselfish, perchance thou mayest feelThat I have good reason for loving thee best.
Art thou the dearest one? Love can but showThat thou art the dearest, ideal of mine;Knowing, I love thee; and loving, I know;To know and to love are the gifts divine.
We sail far out to sunset’s light beyond,On Life’s most restless and most fitful deep;Where tempests rage and storms do oft abound,And waves and billows care not long to sleep.In Ocean’s lap most priceless pearls we’ve found,And gathered them as onward we have passed;We deemed the work but pleasure and reward,Rare treasures that in years to come would last.
Life’s dark blue waters cannot be recrossedO’er which we passed so joyfully each day;For youth and pleasure can not always last,And Duty bids us hasten on our way.We know that here our voyage together endsAnd each alone must earn his own reward;But through the storms and sunny days alikeWe shall be guided by the hand of God.
To-day we all must bid a fond farewell;We know henceforth our lives apart must be,Until we cross the deep that lies before,To be no longer tossed on life’s rough sea.And when beyond the ever-changing wavesWe anchor on that shining Heavenly shore,May we, who linger now to say: “Farewell,”United stand to part again no more.
The clouds that float aboveEach have two separate sides,—One toward the earth below,The other toward the sun;And when we see our lives,Which God in goodness guides,Upon the darker sideHe sees the brighter one.
Some day we shall beholdThe side that He can see,And we shall praise His nameFor blessings that are ours;Till clouds shall all disperse,And life shall grander be,—Refreshed like mother earthWhen sunshine follows showers.
A river runs upon its wayThro’ fertile fields and meadows gay;—Among the sweetly-scented bowers,And where the sunlight soothes the flowers.It dances merrily alongAnd sings sweet Solitude a song;But ere it meets the distant shore,Its current changes more and more;The stones that in its course now lieIt must rush over or pass by;And while it meets them one by oneDark clouds obscure the shining sun;The sparkling waters lose their charm,No more to frolic free from harm;For threatening storm has come at last,—The river rushes madly pastThro’ cities and thro’ distant towns,As tho’ it would escape its bounds;But storm will cease and mists will clearTill hidden sun shall reappear,And that same river, calm and free,Shall flow in fullness to the sea.Thus runs the current of my lifeThro’ sun and shade, in calm and strife;At first among the flowers gayIt sparkles freely on its way;But while it sings its happy song,[Pg 91]And glides so peacefully along,The obstacles and clouds appearTo hinder and deprive of cheer.When all the barriers have been passed,And threatening storms have ceased at last,My life, more full, and calm, and free,Shall end it’s course beyond the Sea.
When sunset light has faded from our sight,And darkness comes to tell us of the night,We sleep, refreshed from earthly care and sorrow,To waken to another hopeful morrow.
When sun and stars shall no more please our sight,And darkness comes to tell us of the night,We sleep, unmindful of earth’s joy and sorrow,To waken to a never-ending morrow.
A poet took in hand his mighty penTo move the hearts of lyric-loving men.He wrote of prayer, not knowing how to pray;He wrote of Heaven, not having found the way;He wrote of fame, not having reached the goalWhere fame’s great treasure thrills the seeking soul;He wrote of Art, and then of Nature sweet,While Nature’s flowers were crushed beneath his feet;He wrote of life, and human love below,The power of which he did not, could not know.At last, grown weary of his every theme,A thought aroused him from his restless dream;He seized his pen,—the inspiration grewTo tell of things he really felt and knew:He wrote of “mother” and his “childhood days;”Then high and low began to sing his praise.
Not because Thou givest meLife from care and sorrow freeDo I thank Thee, Lord, to-day;But because in life’s dark hour,Thou hast given peace and powerTo sustain me on the way.
Not for gift of wealth or fameDo I praise Thy kingly nameKneeling now with grateful heart;But for home, for friends, and health,—Greater gifts than fame or wealth,Blessings of my life a part.
Not because the earth is brightWith a wealth of joy and lightDo I thank Thee, Lord Divine;But because in Home aboveLife eternal speaks Thy loveAnd the hope of Heaven is mine.
Upon the shining sands a man once strolled;And, looking out across the silvery sea,He saw the waste of waters, blue and cold,Where restless waves were climbing high and free.
He paused awhile to watch the changing tide;But, tiring of the noise and sunlight’s glare,He sought a hidden path, and turned aside,Where sweet wild roses scent the balmy air.
Then, growing weary as the morning passed,He filled his hands with blossoms that he found,And threw himself beneath an oak at last,Whose brawny branches brushed the grassy ground.
He bared his head; and lying ’neath the tree,Arranging wealth of roses in his hands,He thought that, ’bove the branches, he could seeThe same blue ocean rolling to the sands.
His mind to rose thoughts turned in dreamy way,—From untrained blossoms, blooming in the bowers,Whose simple petals fade within a day,Have been developed grander, sweeter flowers.
The jacqueminot and all her sisters fair,Now clothed in colors bright and staying late,Because of culture and a proper careHave found a place within the garden gate.[Pg 97]
So too with life; the untrained children weWhose innocence shall fade within the hours,—With thoughts, like petals, simple, pure, and free,—And minds to be developed like the flowers.
If rightly clothed, according to God’s plan,We soon discover, ere it is too late,That cultivation makes the grander manWho finds a place within the Heavenly gate.
The dreamer woke; his roses, once so bright,Had drooped and faded in the heat of day;His rose thoughts had unfolded to the lightTo bless and help him all along life’s way.
The soul that seeks for Heavenly things,And mounts above on tireless wings,Shall find them by and by;The soul that strives to conquer wrong,And sings a happy trustful song,Shall live and never die.
When Earth is waking from her winter dream,And Sunlight calls to life each sleeping stream;When songsters shall return on joyful wings,’Tis then the mind awakes to grander things.Faith in our God becomes a mighty power,—Deep rooted in the soul it grows each hour.Hope springs to life and, like the budding rose,Admits the light, and thus diviner grows.Sweet Charity, the greatest of the three,Unlocks the dormant heart with magic key,—Then enters Joy, the ever welcomed guest,To quiet Sorrow, and to bid her rest.The waking Earth demands the watchful eye,While day by day new glories round her lie.No longer shall we sleep away the hours,But wake to life as wake the budding flowers,—Breathing to others, in our life’s brief day,Fragrance and beauty as they pass our way.No longer shall we wait for better days,But, like the bird, sing forth His endless praise,And in the hour new hope and pleasure bringTo those who listen but care not to sing.No longer shall we rest and vainly dream,But wake as wakes again the living stream,Ever to broaden as we onward go,Bearing to thirsting souls the joys we know.
There is no time, in life, for vain regret;The days have passed, the hours are passing yet.Each moment wasted by regretful sighWill count as worthless in the by and by,Till life itself, which God to man has given,Will be unworthy of the peace of Heaven.A vain regret is but an added wrong,—It makes the past a sorrow, not a song;It robs the present of its very bestAnd fills the future with a vague unrest.The little wrongs can never be made rightBy keeping them before the human sight;Better it is to give them scanty spaceBy putting virtue in its proper place;Better it is to let the whole heart singThan let it sigh o’er one regretted thing.
Hear the mighty army,Marching on the way,With the banner lifted in the light.See the Christian Soldiers,In the ranks to-day,As they battle ever for the Right.
Under Christ, the Leader,Who commands them here,They will stand united, one and all.They will pledge allegiance,They have naught to fear,They will answer ever to His call.
In His Service Royal,Theirs will be the fame;They shall wear the laurels by and by.On the Shore Eternal,They will praise His name,Where the soul shall never, never die.
A little stream that danced and played all dayUpon its rough and ever winding way,Like some young child, upon his mother’s breast,Soon neared the tide and calmed itself to rest.
A little flower that nodded here and there,At every passing breeze, in daylight fair,When sunset splendor lingered o’er the hillSent forth its fragrance and at last was still.
A little bird that built her airy nestNor thought in sunny hours to pause and rest,Sang sweeter songs to cheer the passer byWhen light was fading in the distant sky.
A man, who thro’ life’s day had toiled and wept,When life was o’er lay down in peace and slept;He, who had borne the burden of the day,Found sunset glories flooding all his way.
Peace comes from God, and rest is sure and sweetTo those who bear life’s burden and its heat;Sweet, starry twilight calms that manly soulThat strives by toil to reach Heaven’s distant goal.
Oft when the rain-drops fall,We pray for sunlight fair;Oft when the day is bright,We seek the cooling shade;Oft when the robins call,We long for tree-tops bare;Oft when the ground is white,We wish that spring had stayed.
But God who ruleth all,And keeps us in His care,Doth plan all things aright,Which for our good He made;Our gifts, so poor and small,Cannot with His compare,And if we trust His mightHis promise will not fade.
We do not cut and polish the stonesThat are laid in the common wall;We do not prune the brambles and weedsThat around our pathway fall.
We do not put into cruciblesA metal unworthy the test;Nor do we send a man to the frontWho would not peril his best.
The vine that’s pruned bears the choicest fruit,—Necessity grinds the dull tool;And the keenest and best instructorsAre prepared in Affliction’s school.
Suffering gives us the richest thoughtsThat to literature can belong;—In poetry it strikes the sweetest noteAnd inspires the tenderest song.
Our troubles are but the inlets smallThat shall lead to the human soul,Thro’ which the Comforter comes to healAnd to strengthen us for the Goal.
The rarest of saints are afflictedBy One who doth know what is right;And the stars shall ever shine brightestThat contend with the darkest night.
Not the bird that soars the highest,Nor whose plumage is the brightest,But the bird that sings the sweetestIs the bird I prize.Not the flower that blooms the tallest,Nor whose petals are the whitest,But whose fragrance is completestSatisfies my eyes.
Not the brook that laughs the loudest,Nor whose waters are the purest,But the brook that runs the fleetestTo the mill and sea.Not the soul that soars the quickest,But whose faith in God is surest,And whose record is the neatestIs the soul for me.
Life’s morning hour is never quite completeIf climbing upward at the break of dayWe fail to show to others, whom we meet,New glories found along the heavenly way.
If by endeavor, step by step we take,And for another breathe a loving prayerAnd lead him up to see the morning break,We find a blessing as we journey there.
The noon of life, when sunlight floods the skies,Is never quite so pleasing to our sight,As when we help a fallen brother riseAnd by his side direct his steps aright.
The way grows brighter as we pass along,For not alone we seek the heights untried;A soul is breathing us a thankful song—The weary one is toiling by our side.
The twilight of the life God gives us hereIs never quite so filled with peace and restAs when we journey on with naught to fear,Tho’ sunset light is fading in the west.
The night comes not to those who look above,For on the summit soon they all shall stand,Who leave the vale and seek the Father’s love,Which bids them welcome to the promised land.[Pg 112]
Thus by endeavor—step by step each dayWe climb above, where other feet have trod,And leading others up the heavenly wayFind rest and day eternal with our God.
There is a Land, beyond the gloomy sky,That needs no earthly light for its adorning;Where God’s own children nevermore shall die,—A home of perfect peace and endless morning.
We cannot see the City’s shining towers,But truths divine proclaim the wondrous story,—On earth the cross, in Heaven the crown is ours,—While Gates ajar reveal an inner glory.
Grandmother sits in her high-backed chair,A snowy cap hides her soft gray hair;And while her needles fly in and outWe wonder what her thoughts are about.Beside the chair stands an antique bed,With its modern draperies overhead,While, close to the wall, and near at handIs the newly polished, square-topped stand.Within its drawer lies her camphor-bag,Some spicy cubebs and sugared flag,Tomato cushion, of gaudy red,A bit of wax, for her sewing-thread,Some slippery elm, in a corner dark,Scattered fragments of cinnamon bark,The golden ear-knobs, and powder puff,Near a little box of scented snuff,A baby’s picture, with dimpled face,And a lock of hair, in its broken case.On its top is her bible, worn by age,With its faded book-mark and penciled page.The faithful clock, with its quaint, carved door,Reaches the ceiling and meets the floor.A chest of drawers, with handles of brass,Stands just across from the gilt-framed glass,And is reflected in all its pride;While on its top, upon either side,Whose fancy the modern mind might suit,[Pg 121]Stand the gypsum dishes of painted fruit.Near an open fireplace, neatly swept,The box of kindling-wood is kept;While across the andirons polished bright,A log lies ready for heat and light.Beside the dust-pan and well-worn wingThe brass topped fire-tongs and shovel swing;On the hearth-stone gray, ’neath the chimney high,The useful bellows in waiting lie.The “mantle-place” holds the candle-sticksAnd silver snuffers for lighted wicks.While, near to the match-safe, just between,An apple filled with cloves is seen.Grandmother rocks as she knits her sock,To-day her thoughts are too deep for talk,—She lives once more ’neath a cloudless sky,And dreams again of the days gone by.In her cherished dream she can seem to seeThe dear old house as it used to be,With its clapboards white, its blinds of green,And the tiny window-panes between;And lingers there for a little while,Ere the modern workman changed its style.She sings to her babies the old time song,And hopes that “father” will come ere long;She moves her chair to the waning lightTo watch the glow of the sunset bright,And looks for a few, pale evening starsWhile the cows come home thro’ the pasture bars.[Pg 122]She lights the candles, and smoothes her hair,And breathes for her loved ones a silent prayer;Then goes to her work with happy heart,Cheerfully doing the house-wife’s part;And once again she can seem to feelThe well known move of her spinning-wheel.As she fondly dreams of those days of yoreShe hears a whisper beside her door;Then close to her side the children creep:—“Why, Grandma has fallen fast asleep!”She hears one say, as they tip-toe out:“I wonder what she’s dreaming about.”Little they know what memories ariseWhen Grandmother thinks with half-closed eyes.
Fear not to die, but rather fear to live,For death is not so grave a thing as life;The soul that God to mortal man did giveShall some day be exempt from earthly strife,And from its narrow prison cell at lastIt shall go forth the glorious light to see,When chains are loosened, which now hold it fast,By Death, the warden, who shall set it free;And it shall live thro’ all the days and yearsTo know the peace of sunny Paradise,No more to be the slave of doubts and fears,Nor suffer failure when escape it tries.Earth’s blossoms die, but from the falling seedsShall live again the pure and treasured flowers;And thus we die, but loving words and deedsShall be immortal like this soul of ours.
Side by side the mountains riseToward the blue of distant skies;But tho’ roots may interlaceAnd each base is joined to base,Till the friendly trees inclineAnd their branches touch and twine,Yet, while aging day by day,They part union on their wayTill the welcome sunlight seeksTo crown insulated peaks.
Side by side the great men riseTowards the heights of brighter skies;But tho’ minds together blendAnd each friend is joined to friend,Till their spirits interchangeAnd their thoughts have fullest range,Yet while aging day by day,They diverge upon life’s wayTill Young Genius claims his ownAnd they choose to soar alone.
The Here and There are not so far apart,As oft’ they seem to Sorrow’s waiting heart;The waking love that Here no more shall sleepWill There the souls in perfect union keep.God does not mean, tho’ Heaven be bright and fair,To break the strands between the Here and There.The heart that loves shall love beyond the skies;The soul that lives shall live in Paradise.We know that He in joy and peace will keepOur own and His until we fall asleep.The same sweet smile, the loving face so fair,But glorified, awaits our coming There.To those who trust and patiently endure,He gives them back, bright, beautiful and pure.They are not lost to such as you and meBut still shall love us thro’ Eternity;—And from temptation and from earthly careShall lead us upward to the Heavenly There.
Sometimes I dwell not here—But far away,Where not a breath disturbsMy fondest dream;Where, loitering at ease,Myself alone I pleaseAnd sing my soul good cheerWithin my castles fair,That I have built in air,Above Time’s stream.
Outside, like haunting ghosts,The clouds appear,But noiselessly pass byEach bolted gate;Around my castle walls,The hush of moon-light falls,While, like the armied hosts,With torches flashing bright,The stars come out at nightTo celebrate.[Pg 135]
’Tis bliss to dwell like this,In airy heights,Above the common crowdAnd earthly din;Where all the livelong day,With my best self I stayAnd naught of glory miss;Where neither friend nor foe,To pity or bring woe,Can enter in.
Who dares uplift a latch,Like thief at night,To scatter treasured hopesAnd steal my store?Who darkens my domainWhere I, an empress, reign,While subjects wait dispatch?Away, ye dread Despair!To castles in the airStill let me soar.
He stands in crowded city street,Poor, tired, little Joe,And sees the people pass and meetWhile moments come and go.
He holds sweet flowers in his hand,Poor, patient, little Joe,And wonders who can understandHis poverty and woe.
“Please won’t you buy my blossoms bright?”Cries hopeful, little Joe,While daylight fades and sunset lightFloods stirring streets below.
But no one lingers, no one caresFor homeless, little Joe;When mother breathed his name in prayersHe was too small to know.
When father took him on his knee,Dear, little baby Joe,He used to crow in childish gleeBut that was long ago.
The night grows dark, and no one hearsPoor, heartsick, little Joe;He puts his flowers away with tearsAnd turns his foot-steps slow.[Pg 137]
He passes mansions grand and tall,Poor, homesick, little Joe,And hopes that men within the hallWill gifts of love bestow.
Sometimes he stops to watch the lights,Poor, lonely, little Joe,And sees some whirling, dazzling sightsWhile dancers come and go.
In homes he hears the child-like noise,Poor, orphaned, little Joe,And wonders if their little boysTo great, good men will grow.
He seeks, at last, a sheltering shed,Poor, hungry, little Joe,And makes, of tattered coat, a bed,While tear-drops freely flow.
And: “Now I lay me down to sleep,”Says drowsy, little Joe,“And pray the Lord my soul to keep,”He whispers, soft and low.
“If I should die before I wake,”Breathes tired, little Joe,“I pray the Lord my soul to take,”And it was even so.
Transcriber Notes:
Uncertain or antiquated spellings or ancient words were not corrected.
Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations
in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Home Poems, by Kate Louise Wheeler
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME POEMS ***
***** This file should be named 52865-h.htm or 52865-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/8/6/52865/
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Paul Marshall and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country outside the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you
are located before using this ebook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
provided that
* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation."
* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
works.
* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.