Echoes from girlhood, and other poems . wise, It round this world has oft revolvedAnd keeps before our eyes. So I will try, in pathos soft,This charming word to tell, We all have heard it oft enoughTo know its meaning well. ioo AN ACROSTIC. Ill speak the word, tho small, tis great,And worth its weight in gold, Ill breathe it for it oft holds fateWithin its slender fold. So now this word, both good and true,And other words so far above, And blest with meanings not a few,Claims the winning title; love. AN ACROSTIC. THE NAME OF A NORMAL SCHOOL MATE. Joyously the sun had risenOer the hills so far
Echoes from girlhood, and other poems . wise, It round this world has oft revolvedAnd keeps before our eyes. So I will try, in pathos soft,This charming word to tell, We all have heard it oft enoughTo know its meaning well. ioo AN ACROSTIC. Ill speak the word, tho small, tis great,And worth its weight in gold, Ill breathe it for it oft holds fateWithin its slender fold. So now this word, both good and true,And other words so far above, And blest with meanings not a few,Claims the winning title; love. AN ACROSTIC. THE NAME OF A NORMAL SCHOOL MATE. Joyously the sun had risenOer the hills so far away,Silently a brilliant sunbeamEntered in her heart one day;Phantoms seemed to hover round herHalo shining from above,In the future dawn appearingNaught can mar the hope of love,Ever speaks a soft voice cheering. Knights and Earls may happy be,Robed in majesty and might,Outward show of pride and splendor,Honored in the nations is strong, but love is stronger,Ever in its matchless art,Rules the heart and lasts the BESSIE THE AUTHORS DAUGHTER BESSIE. 103 BESSIE. Shes a slender little maiden,With a wealth of chestnut hair, With a step so firm and active,And a face both sweet and fair; And her fingers are so nimbleShe can make the finest lace, And upon the snowy linenYou can see her floral grace. Oft she sits at the piano, And will sing in tender strain, And you wish when she has finished,That she longer would remain. She can crotchet, knit and sew,With her pen is clever too, There are scores of other thingsThat this maiden fair can do. For her Mother always taught herHands were given us by God, And if they could not be useful,It would certainly be odd; And if things are worth the doing,We must always do them well, So this winsome little maidenThus endeavors to excel. io4 NOT WHAT THEY SEEM. THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM Oh, who can count the many pangsWhich rend each mortal breast, The anguish and the lasting stings,The moments of unrest. Sometimes the faire
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