USA > Vermont > Rutland County > Danby > The history and map of Danby, Vermont > Part 38
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Where the sunshine first returning, In its glory, darkness spurning, Cheers the earth for daylight yearning, There we broke the sod, There we laid our Arctic roses, There the cold earth o'er them closes, But their souls in perfume rising Where no wintry night can hide them, Have gone up to God.
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THE CHRYSALIS.
BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
When I attempt a search, throughout Creations vast domain, Things curions wonderfully wrought, Fill up this beings chain.
The other morn though winters claim, Its zenith scarce had passed, A chrysalis that long had lain, Unconscious of the piercing blast,
Was soon aroused from its torpid dreams. By balmy breezes gentle power, And from its self-made prison beams, The golden light, the blissful shower,
And forth it came the joy of all, Itself was joyous too, It came at nature's earnest call, Of nature's wealth to woo.
TO
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HISTORY OF DANBY. 365
Butt ah, deceit marks life's career, And fain would we forego, All monitory pleading tears, The specious wiles of life to know.
.And though the morn is bright and fair, As maiden in her loveliness, Yet chance may throw the cloud of care, And spread around its loneliness.
So with the chrysalis whose morn was bright. Clouds closed around in dreary gloom, The blasting frost spreads round its blight, And blends its prospects in the tomb.
TO LEONORE-SONG.
BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
Go-gentle one, where smiles are found.
Go-where voices gently sound,
Go-from the one, that loves you dear, Go-trust in other, less sincere, Go-trust in him you better love, Go-and to him more constant prove. Go-leave me sad and all alone. Go-that I in solitude may moan ; Go-I'll not upbraid thee gentle one. Go-seek for joy though I'm undone, Go -- though for thee, I often sigh, Go-though the tear oft dims my eye ; Go-do not play the coquette's part, Go-trifle not with my frail heart, Go-trust in one, in him confide. Go-love him. let what will betide. Go-though my grief is hard to bear, Go-thy happiness shall be my prayer.
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HISTORY OF DANBY .. -
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LIFE.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Life-what is it but a dream? As we journey down its stream, We can never stop to grasp, The flying moments as they pass, Neither can we journey back ; "Forward march," Death's on our track., None can loiter by the way, No. not for a single day.
Hasting onward without rest, Often with a troubled breast, For the years of youth soon pass Like a blade of tender grass .- Gird thy armor, brave and strong: Life is passing, yes, erc long, We shall go from hence to dwell: Where, no one on earth can tell .. - . But we know all will be well, That the promised word fulfilled! By the Father sure will be ; And from every sorrow free, Are the dwellers on the "shore" That have passed on before. Soon shall end this earthly strife; Then will come the higher life. -
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OVER THE RIVER. BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Over the River the boatman is rowing. Each day we may see him returning and going ; . One at a time he is rowing them over ; No more will he carry, though myriad hover Upon the cold brink of that Lethean River, That all must cross over sooner or later.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
Over the River the boatman is rowing ; Who next shall cross with him? Some one is going ; Perchance 'twill be me, or friend that I love,- For none can resist him, when told they must come. Death is the name of that ferryman old, "The rich may offer him silver and gold, But never can bribe him, he's true to his trust, He says to the wealthy "go with me you must."-
"Over the River alone you must journey, Must leave all behind you, your bonds and your money, "There are many now waiting, they're asking to go ; But you must be landed, the Lord wills it so. The old and the young, the vile and the pure, I carry them over and leave on the shore ; "They're nothing to me, my work must go on, I heed not their anguish, their crying or moan."
"Over the River, I carry them over, The wife and the husband, the maiden and lover, The babe in its innocence lovely and pure, Though hearts may be broken-all must endure. Nobody cares for me, they listen with dread When they hear on the threshold my foot's stealthy tread, But if they could know the joys of that land, They would bless him forever, the old ferryman."
WATCHMAN TELL US OF THE FIGHT.
INSCRIBED TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN. BY A. S. BAKER.
Watchman tell us of the fight, "What the signs of promise are," "Soldier on yon Guarded heights,"' "See ye not one beaming star ?"
Watchman tell us, cau ye see, Aught of hope not seen before, Shall the bondman yet be free ? Hear ye not the cannon roar !
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HISTORY OF DANBY ..
. See ye not our soldiers fall, Must their blood be spilt in vain, Shall our soldiers but enthrall, Binding fast the bondmau's chain ?f
Watchman will ye tell us true, If the fight goes right or wrong, Tell us when the battle's through, Freedom's own right arm is strong. Written March 1862.
*Arlington Heights, then guarded. tMcLellan was then sending back slaves.
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THE GENTLE WORD.
BY A. S. BAKER.
Sweeter than the dancing rivulet, To the gay and sportive horde, Or the Zephyr's sweet refreshment, Is a smooth and gentle word, Spoken by a doting parent To a sweet and tender child, Or the voice of kind affection, Chiming through a sister's smile.
Sweet the voice of airy carols, Tuned beneath the forest shade ; Lovely are the bleat of lambkins, Skipping over the grassy glade ; Sweeter still the mellow accents, Falling from the lips of love, Loving are the floating minstrels Of the kind and constant dove.
Lovlier still, to hearts o'ershadowed, Darkly on their weary road, Sounds the voice. by goodness guided, Speaking kind aud gentle words. Oft, how oft have minds benighted, Turned from dark and evil works, Caused by some, whose hearts delighted, In speaking kindly, gentle words.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
So when the erring shrink for shame. And keenly rue the evil done ; Upbraid them not, nor yet proclaim, Their errors dark to any one, For earth can boast no sweeter spot, No purer scenes does it afford, Than where our wrongs are all forgot, And kindness speaks the gentle word. 1856.
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LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS. RHODA B. HOPKINS.
BY A. S. BAKER.
She rests beneath the silent clod, Her form no more he'll sce, Her spirit revels with its God, From care and sorrow free.
No more her counsel will he hear. No more that smile will greet him. But o'er her grave he drops the tear, For her who cannot meet him ?.
His lonely, throbbing, aching breast, Is now with sorrow riven, But she, the wife is sure at rest, With angel ones in heaven.
But when he does his child caress, Her spirit may be with him, For to remember her in death, That pledge perchance was given.
That little one, whose tender years May never know a mother's care, To soothe its pains, to dry its tears, Or e'en its needful food prepare.
Let heaven's blessings rest on her ; Friends may lift the yearning prayer. Or do all else they can for her, A mother's love she cannot share.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
TO CORDELIA, A SONG. -
BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
How lone should I be, were it not for thy smile, And thy bright beaming eye's, my cares to beguile, Did not hope speak elysians, Beyond all delusions, With magic enchanting, Triumphantly vaunting,
That she in her spells, has the art to be calm,
Each sensitive pleasure, in our bosom embalm. -
Then iet fate do her work, to suit her own mind, Time to change her decrees, we never can find While we brightly dreaming, On hopes pinions streaming And forever gazing Our thoughts so amazing ;
Yet they speak to the soul in clear accents so clear, . Thus fancy awakened our hearts it will cheer.
FAREWELL, FAREWELL ! BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
Farewell ! lovely sister, those are hard words to speak, Yet what fate hath bidden, the reverse I'll not seek ; Farewell theu to thee, and farewell to thy charms To speak e'en these words my frail bosom alarms.
Farewell ! for in friendship I speak to thee now And hope that affection thy mind may endow ; Since 'tis from affection that happiness springs Lasting forever till death "life" shall bring.
Farewell ! though in time I far distant may be Thou hast charms lovely girl that will draw me to thee ; Though I am an orphan despised and forlorn, Yet I'll strive to be happy, and blithe as the mora.
Farewell ! though I've watched thee from iufancy bright, On my knee hath thou dandled with heartfelt delight, Thy prattle was childish I loved it to hear, For childhood has charms the loue bosom to cheer.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
Farewell ! the bud has now blossomed, its exquisite smile Has taught me to hope, for I am hope's humble child ;
Oft enraptured I've gazed on thy fair gentle form As oft tried to stifle in my bosom the storm.
Farewell ! when thou craveth a blessing from on high, Remember thy friend who for thee oft doth sigh, Who loves thee far better than thou art aware, Then bless me dear sister, dispel all my cares.
Farewell ! perhaps thou hath spoken, in thy gentle tone To another whose voice responds to thine own ;
If so, oh ! forgive me, for I did not intend, One so lovely aud gentle, so blithe to offend.
CHARLES.
TIME.
BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
Ah fleeting time, I call to you, Why hurry on so fast, I've neither time to court or sue, Before the year is past.
But I to memory here must give Due tribute in its turn, For without friends we cannot live, Unless the world we spurn.
Then think fair maid, while o'er this book Its leaves you in succession turn, Yes, think of that familiar look, Nor quench those fires that gently burn.
For there's in time fit place for all, Despite our varying taste ; Then do no mix the bitter gall, With youth's impetuous haste.
For age may sorely try your schemes, And taust you with her frown, Then rest thon in those pleasant dreams. That instead of thorus shall give a crown. Aug. 6th, 1843.
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HISTORY OF DAXBY.
THE MERRY HEART.
BY A. S. BAKER.
The heart that's light with joy and glee, Is just the heart for me ; There's beauty in a merry heart, That laughs the live long day, A joyous heart, a loving heart, A heart that's light and gay ; A trusting heart, a constant heart Is just the heart for me.
Oh give me but one merry heart, To charin my cares away, And earth may be both lone and dark, I'll fear not its dismay ; A heart that's light from morn to night, A heart from malice free, To win its smiles my soul delights, Oh, that's the heart for me.
A merry heart, a joyous heart, What sorrow can betide, Where smiles from 'neath its windows dart, There's place for nought beside ; Then laugh, be gay the live long day, Bid sadness from you flee, The heart that drives dull care away, Is just the heart for me.
The laughing heart, the merry heart, Is Nature's sweetest flower, That blooms as well in winter dark, As inthe summer bower ; It is the wealth of blooming health, The wealth of muscles free, The laughing heart, the merry heart, Is wealth enough for me. 1859.
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HISTORY OF DANBY. 373
THE EVERGREEN SHORE.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Over the river, the Lethean River, The ferryman rows them o'er, One by one, he is landing them now, Safe on the "Evergreen Shore."
Over the river, the Lethean River, They weep and grieve no more, From every care and sorrow free, Are they on the "Evergreen Shore."
Over the river, the Lethean River, Are friends that are gone before, They beckon to us with Angel-hands, From that fair "Evergreen Shore.
Over the river, the Lethean River, For the pure there's joy in store, For only the good shall landed be On that bright "Evergreen Shore."
Over the river, the Lethean River, They open wide the door, And welcome all the good and pure, Unto the "Evergreen Shore."
SPEAK KINDLY.
BY MRS. F. M. CRAPO.
Speak kindly to the erring one, Harsh words can never win The wayward youth from out the haunts That oft he enters in ; The syrens when they sought to lure Him from the narrow way, In accents soft and low they spoke- No harsh command have they. 47
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
Speak kindly to the erring one, Though frail she may have been ; Let those at her the first stone cast That ne'er have known a sin ; Be not afraid to clasp her hand, Her touch hath not defiled Thy garment's hem, if thou art pure, Go raise that fallen child.
Speak kindly to the one that loves The ruby wine to quaff, Though sweet at first its taste may be, It proves a bitter draught ; Go speak to him in accents firm, Persuade him, if you can, To taste no more of that vile drink That makes a brute of man.
Speak kindly to the erring ones, Assist them when they fall, Christ did forgive the penitent, Our Father loves them all ; Speak gently to those erring ones, Perchance thou hast not heard, Unkindness oft doth make them so, Sometimes one unkind word.
LINES INSCRIBED TO W. & E. BAKER.
BY MRS. S. A. NICHOLS.
Upon her restless bed, A soldier's mother lay And pondered on the days and nights, Since first he went away.
The sad and fearful wail, From many a broken home Swelled on the air and filled her thoughts With melancholy gloom.
She knew her gallant boy Had shared the bloody fight, And sickening fear for his dear life Hid from her soul the light.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
Suddenly in the door, There stood a girlish form ; Her child, who to the summer land Passed in life's early morn.
Over her shoulder white, She glanced back playfully, And with triumphant joy she cried, "Mama, George is with me."
Turn from the battle field, All drenched with precious blood, Lift up your bowed heads, Swept o'er by sorrows fiood.
Turn toward the blessed light That wraps the beuter land, When safe across the waves of death, True friends meet hand to hand.
Let this one pleasant thought. Comfort you evermore, There's joy in Heaven when those we love, Climb up the shining shore.
SPRING.
BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
There's beauty in spring, for it brings to my heart New life and hope and bids me rejoice, 'Tis like the worn seamau, when lost is his chart, When land is descried how gladdens his voice.
All nature seems fresh, how lively and green, Are the slopes of the mountains and valleys so low, The eye seems delighted with all that is seen, And rest with pleasure on things here below.
But raise from this earth thy bright sparkling eye, Just view for a moment the scene spread above, Let thy mind for a moment through immensity fly, And consider the works of the Parent of Love.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
See the Heavens all studded with diamonds so bright, And the moon like a queen in splendor arrayed Smiles nightly upon us with her placid light,
As she sails through the ether by destiny swayed.
O, who can refrain to worship the source,
Whence came all the beauties of earth and of skies That marked for the planets respective each course, So perfect is all, oft I'm lost in surprise.
LINES SUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF COUSIN ADELAIDE.
BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
My mind oft recurs, to the days past and gone, And my eye oft is dimmed by the tear of regret. When I think of those friends whose affections so warm, Impressed me so strongly I ne'er can forget.
Yet time like a tyrant delights in his skill, His touch is so magic, his track is so slight
That mortal, unheeding forget of his will, And calmly repose among shadows of light,
There's one I remember, I oft call to mind, Those charms which so seldom in others I find, Yet what nature has given to all we are told Is as dear to ones self as the miser to gold.
Her beauty and grace, her manners and all, No pen can do honor, no prasie can install, Her virtues, her worth, her refinement of soul, With wisdom and patience all things she controlled.
But the graces, nor beauty, Hor talent supreme, Can escape the destroyer or from death can redeem, As the best of earths treasures are hid in the deep, So in death art thou shrouded in silence to sleep.
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HHISTORY OF DANBY.
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THE LONELY SINGER.
'BY A. S. BAKER.
Beautiful Bird why comest thou here, So far from thy native wood, "To wake this vale with thy notes so clear, Didst thou wander away from thy brood?
Why singest thou thus so sweet and clear, Where kindred thou'st none to greet, Go back ; go back, to thy home so dear, To thy fledglings so tender and sweet.
Though sweet thy song "us sad and ione, Ii paineth my heart to hear, A carol so soft, where kindred there's none, To join in its accents so clear.
Bird, Ch ! Bird return to thy bower, Thy mates are awaiting to greet, Where kindred throats will add to the power, Of a song so lonely but sweet. 1862.
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TO SAREPTA. BY CHAS. H. CONGDON. Must I at last bid thee farewell, And roam the world estranged and wild, O, no, I cannot, tears now swell To think no more I see thy smile,
How sad my heart to think that thec, So soon hath changed, no voice I hear, Thy sparkling eyes look not on ine. Art thou displeased? Thou art I fear !
Perhaps that those kind friends of thine, Have filled thy ears with untruc tales, If so, believe them not for truth is mine, Not changing as the fickle gale.
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HISTORY OF DANBY
O, Innocence my comfort and my cure; A heart unconscious of its guile, Good spirit helps to keep it pure, S& I at last may meet thy smile ..
BATTLE OF GETTYSBURGH.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Strange sight for the peaceful stare of heaven
Through the hours of that summer night, -- One hundred thousand sleeping men Who were to meet in deadly fight ! And e'er to morrow's sun shall set, How many in death's embrace Shall sleep that long and dreamless sleep From which none ever wake.
The morning dawns, the vale resounds With the tramp of the warrior's steed ; Kindled to rage by the bugle's sound, He hastes to the battle field ; Glorious 'mong the Spartan corps Flashed Wadworth's iron brigade, And foremost in the battle's fray Rode undaunted Reynolds, brave,
Relentless death had marked his life, For that day's first sacrifice, He fell from his steed in front of his men While urging them on to fight ; The brave dafender of Sumpter's walls, Courageous Doubleday, Sprang into the breach ! The fight went on, Noon came, but no help had they.
At last came Barlow, eager to save The hard pressed First, and the name That at Chancellorsville, I've heard it said Deserved not the wreath of the brave ; The noble Christian, Howard, was there, Divinely inspired methinks, When he fought, with the brave, against fearful odds; On dangerous retreat.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
In vain Wadworth's iron brigade, Cutler's and Doubleday's, Stood to resist Hill's cutire corps, Scarred veterans all were they ; Carnage and death, not war, were there- At what a fearful cost The retreat commenced. The ory went forth, Gettysburgh is surely lost !
"The glorious Iron Brigade that stood Full eighteen hundred strong, But seven hundred numbered when The bloody fight was done; From the hill of refuge to the south Our canton fiercely roared. All was lost ! The fight began With cannon, musket, sword ; The boastful rebels vaunted loud Of to-morrow's sure success, They little knew that it would bring To them defeat and death.
The hills of Seminary Ridge Bristle with men and arms, Potomac's army heard their cry, Their wild and fierce alarm ; Slocum and Sickles hurried on, Hancock and Ayres too, The bloody fought hill of Round Top then Was ghastly in its view.
The fight goes on, the deadly strife, The streets are strewn with slain, Through the dusty wood of the vally trailed . The crimson life blood staiu- Fresh blood of living men who writhe In agonies untold ; Too keen, alas ! to long endure Soon will break the golden bowl.
But victory is ours once more, They fled in dire dismay, The rebel force that vaunted loud That came in fierce array ; And Gettysburgh is calm once more, As on that peaceful night When that one hundred thousand slept Before their first day's fight.
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HISTORY OF DANBY ..
THE BANKS OF OTTER ;.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Along the banks of Otter The willow blossoms fair ; O, that my pen could make them- As famed as gliding Ayr ! Have lovers never wandered Beneath the willow's shade, And fond vows true and tender By them oft been exchanged ?
Are not her banks as flow'ry As Doons or " bonnie Ayr's ?" As rich her winding valleys, Our maidens quite as fair As Scotland's Highland lasses Of whom the poet sung? . If Burns had sung of Otter Instead of " bonnie Doon."
Her banks where drooping willows Are blossoming to-day,: In ev'ry cot and mansion Would now be sung in lays ; (As famed as Scotia's rivers . Our own would soon become.) If would like him would write them, W.ho sung of bonnie Doon.
MEMORY.
BÝ CHAS. H. CONGDON.
As oft in dreams my fancy roves Back to the days of yore, When cheerful at the long day's close We passed the homestead door.
Our parents joyful then to see, The glow of happiness. Pervade their numerous family .Would fondly them caress.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
But ah ! those happy days are o'er, That circle now is broken, And with the bright morn never more Exchange those cheerful tokens.
For on one gloomy winter's morn. When skies in snow were clouded, We carried forth her fragile form And now in death she's shrouded.
A blooming child of four short years, Bright as the budding flower, Who could forbear to drop a tear When came the parting hour.
But ah ! not long was death restrained From entering our dwelling, Though fell disease and racked with pain Our bosoms still were swelling.
For memory's tear had not been dried, E'er death again returning, .Once more is that cheerful circle tried, Again our hearts were burning.
A mother we were wont to prize Above all earthly treasure, Behold ! see how serene she dies, Composed beyond all measure.
A thought, a tear, a last farewell To those dear pledges given, A sigh, a groan, the last to tell And oh ! from earth she's riven,
No more from her that gentle smile, Or pleasant words so cheering. The tedious hours of youth beguile Grief from our bosoms bearing.
She's gone ! from earth forever fled, The one we loved to cherish She's gathered with the countless dead And bids our follies perish.
No more her counsel shall we hear Nor will that lonesome father find, For oh ! the grave in silence drear Shuts from this world the spirit mind. 48
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HISTORY OF DANBY-
Adieu fond mother fare thee well Drink deep we must affliction's cup. No more of thee I now can tell, Thy counsel good I'll treasure up.
For though long years have passed away, And we had grown to mauhood prime, Yet death again without delay, Our ranks invade for the third time.
'Tis not the child nor mother dear Whose loss we last must deeply feel.
"Tis for a brother drops the tear O ! could he but those thoughts reveal.
In vain that father's ear is turned, To catch the feeble flickering sound,
That father's mind in anguish burns To think in death those thoughts were drown'd.
Just ripening into life mature And realized earth's changing scenes
We see by this we're insecure Twixt us and death nought intervenes.
Farewell Sister, Mother, Brother, 'Till time our feeble glass hath run Feeling here I fain would smother Until the setting of life's sun.
HOPE.
BY A. S. BAKER.
When hope deserts the human heart, And throws its anchor by, Let man put off the mortal part Lie down his head and die.
When tempests, storms, and troubles come, With sickness pain and death ; 'Tis Hope that bears the Spirit ou Beyond a fleeting breath.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
"Tis Hope that bids the poor man strive. To earn bis daily bread ; "Tis Hope that makes his heart revive When he is clothed and fed.
Fear not from life this precious boon, For what would life be then, Misfortune's arrows quite too soon, Would pierce the hearts of men.
Then give me hope to cheer my heart. When wealth and friends are gone, To dash aside misfortune's darts, And urge my spirit on. January 1847.
THE SOLDIER'S ORPHAN.
BY MRS. HI. M. CRAPO.
Patriots, tenderly care for them all Soldiers, give heed to the fatherless call. Kind ladies, remember the price that we gave The flag of our Union unsullied to save.
Then care for the orphans our soldiers have left, For the innocent children that war has bereft. Who are threading the streets of our cities to-day, Houseless and homeless, with nowhere to stay. *
I ask you to-day to give of your portion To those waifs that are floating on life's troubled ocean. To the little street beggar whose father was killed In the army and left them, his wife and his child,-
To struggle with poverty, weary and lone : Give to the orphan, take to your home The child of the soldier, who yielded his life In defence of his country, who fought in the strife.
Patriots, tenderly care for them all, Soldiers, give heed to the fatherless call, Kind ladies, remember the price that we gave The flag of our Union unsullied to save.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
VERMONT SCENERY.
BY CHAS. H. CONGDON.
[Old Dorset, by actual measurement, is 3719 feet high above the level of the sea. and perhaps gives some of the most beautiful views of our scenery of any in the State, yet there are hundreds of our resident inhabitants who have never refreshed themselves with even a look from this bold elevation among our mountains. Would it not pay ?]
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