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To homely joys and loves and friendships
Thy genial nature fondly clung;
And so the shadow on the dial

Ran back and left thee always young.

And who could blame the generous weakness
Which, only to thyself unjust,

So overprized the worth of others,

And dwarfed thy own with self-distrust?

All hearts grew warmer in the presence
Of one who, seeking not his own,
Gave freely for the love of giving,
Nor reaped for self the harvest sown.

Thy greeting smile was pledge and prelude
Of generous deeds and kindly words;
In thy large heart were fair guest-chambers,
Open to sunrise and the birds!

The task was thine to mould and fashion
Life's plastic newness into grace;
To make the boyish heart heroic,

And light with thought the maiden's face.

O'er all the land, in town and prairie,

With bended heads of mourning, stand The living forms that owe their beauty And fitness to thy shaping hand.

Thy call has come in ripened manhood,

The noonday calm of heart and mind, While I, who dreamed of thy remaining To mourn me, linger still behind:

Live on, to own, with self-upbraiding,
A debt of love still due from me,-
The vain remembrance of occasions,
Forever lost, of serving thee.

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lt was not mine among thy kindred
To join the silent funeral prayers,
But all that long sad day of summer
My tears of mourning dropped with theirs.

All day the sea-waves sobbed with sorrow,
The birds forgot their merry trills;
All day I heard the pines lamenting

With thine upon thy homestead hills.

Green be those hill-side pines forever,
And green the meadowy lowlands be,
green the old memorial beeches,
Name-carven in the woods of Lee!

Still let them greet thy life companions
Who thither turn their pilgrim feet,
In every mossy line recalling

A tender memory sadly sweet.

O friend! if thought and sense avail not
To know thee henceforth as thou art,
That all is well with thee forever

I trust the instincts of my heart.

Thine be the quiet habitations,

Thine the green pastures, blossom-sown, And smiles of saintly recognition,

As sweet and tender as thy own.

Thou com'st not from the hush and shadow
To meet us, but to thee we come;
With thee we never can be strangers,
And where thou art must still be home!



O NONE in all the world before
Were ever glad as we!
We're free on Carolina's shore,
We're all at home and free.

Thou Friend and Helper of the poor,
Who suffered for our sake,

To open every prison door,
And every yoke to break!

Bend low thy pitying face and mild,
And help us sing and pray ;
The hand that blessed the little child,
Upon our foreheads lay.

We hear no more the driver's horn,
No more the whip we fear,
This holy day that saw thee born
Was never half so dear.

The very oaks are greener clad,
The waters brighter smile;
O never shone a day so glad,
On sweet St. Helen's Isle.

We praise thee in our songs to-day,
To thee in prayer we call,

Make swift the feet and straight the way

Of freedom unto all.

Come once again, O blessed Lord!
Come walking on the sea!
And let the mainlands hear the word

That sets the islands free!

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NOTE 1, page 5.

Winnepurkit, otherwise called George, Sachem of Saugus, married a daughter of Passaconaway, the great Pennacook chieftain, in 1662. The wedding took place at Pennacook (now Concord, N. H.), and the ceremonies closed with a great feast. According to the usages of the chiefs, Passaconaway ordered a select number of his men to accompany the newly-married couple to the dwelling of the husband, where in turn there was another great feast. Some time after, the wife of Winnepurkit expressing a desire to visit her father's house, was permitted to go accompanied by a brave escort of her husband's chief men. But when she wished to return, her father sent a messenger to Saugus, informing her husband, and asking him to come and take her away. He returned for answer that he had escorted his wife to her father's house in a style that became a chief, and that now if she wished to return, her father must send her back in the same way. This Passaconaway refused to do, and it is said that here terminated the connection of his daughter with the Saugus chief.- Vide Morton's New Canaan.

NOTE 2, page 11.

This was the name which the Indians of New England gave to two or three of their principal chiefs, to whom all their inferior sagamores acknowledged allegiance. Passaconaway seems to have been one of these chiefs. His residence was at Pennacook.-Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. iii., pp. 21, 22. "He was regarded," says Hubbard, 66 as a great sorcerer, and his fame was widely spread. It was said of him that he could cause a green leaf to grow in winter, trees to dance, water to burn, &c. He was, undoubtedly, one of those shrewd and powerful men whose achievements are always regarded by a barbarous people

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