  Written for a literary club, to which the author had formerly belonged, in Waterford, Va. Start not, good friends; there was a time When I, whom fate, in kindly mood, Made brief sojourner in your clime, Was glad partaker of the good That from your "Circle" emanated; And as the seven days went 'round The appointed "Fourth-day evening" found Me with its members congregated. And also now I recognize The smiling lips and beaming eyes Of some, who, cordial, kind and free, Had smiles and loving words for me. Who, when I entered rose to greet, And welcome gave, sincere and sweet. But that was years ago, and now There may be wrinkles on my brow; There may have fled from form and face And time and sadness may have thrown A shadow o'er the "chestnut brown" Of locks that once—well, let that pass;— These are but sorrowful reflections, And, like those of my looking-glass, Do but discover imperfections; So let us leave this train of thought And start in happier directions. But first I think it may be due Alike unto myself and you, Lest some should think I may have brought My ghostly presence here unsought, To make this note of explanation:— That not for pride, or praise, or gloom, Or curious motive am I come; Nor yet for want of occupation; Far from intruding thus, I would Have it distinctly understood I'm here by "special invitation." Here! and my phantom pulses quicken! Pale memories gather round me fast, And now they grow, and gleam, and thicken, And fan me with their wings of light, And bear me to a realm more bright Than fairy land or elfin home, Or that sweet world whence dreams do come The heaven of a happy Past! ***** Familiar faces on me smile, Remembered voices greet my ear, And social converse gives the while, But while we're all engaged in chat, Of work, of weather, and all that, And voices rise and smiles grow broader, Presiding dignity comes forth With modest but "amazing" worth And calls the whole concern to order. Then "minutes" penned by snow-white hand, Approved without dissension stand; And hushed is all the talk and noise The while some soft or manly voice From gifted author doth unfold Before us treasures new and old. We grant them rare, yet lay them by Our intellectual strength to try In essay, speech, or declamation; We reverence the might of mind, But here our home-spun thoughts still find A kindlier appreciation. With hushed breath and eyes that glisten, To some fine argument we listen, From one with head so full of lore That to prevent its brimming o'er He must impart his information. The which he does "by book and rule," Achieving in the village school A never-ceasing reformation. With rapt attention now we hear A discourse upon Sound and Ear, Wherein is beautifully blended, The Science and the History, The Knowledge and the Mystery So fair, when fairly comprehended. Then some poetic brain is fired, Some secret spring unlocked, for A brother brings, with love inspired, And prays at once with heart and pen— And all the people say Amen— "God bless the Country Doctor." And "lesser lights" send out a gleam Of intellectual glory; And many a grave or playful theme, Or fact profound, or doubtful dream, Or song, or allegory Beguiles the gloom of winter night, And makes the slow hours swift and light; To social pleasure adds a charm, Makes young hearts wise and old hearts warm, And Life a pleasant story. ***** O friends, I live it o'er again! I cross the gulf 'twixt Now and Then, And live that happy time again; Its varied joy and brightness, all— The crowded room, the lighted hall, The merry laugh, the friendly nod— And bless the Fate that brought—but no, Let us not read these chances so— Fate is the Sovereign will of God; He marks the paths by mortals trod; And He appoints our joy and woe. Then bless we God, whose gracious hand Hath led us gently on our way; By whose good will to-day we stand Rejoicing that we live to-day. By whose sweet mercy yet we trust That all of us which is not dust, From time and toils of earth shall rise To nobler life beyond the skies. |
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