I would hide within its shelter,
    Settlin’ in some cosy nook,
  Where no calls nor threats could stir me
    From the pages o’ my book. 
  Oh, that quiet, sweet seclusion
    In its fulness passeth words! 
  It was deeper than the deepest
    That my sanctum now affords. 
  Why, the jaybirds an’ the robins,
    They was hand in glove with me,
  As they winked at me an’ warbled
    In that old apple-tree.

  It was on its sturdy branches
    That in summers long ago
  I would tie my swing an’ dangle
    In contentment to an’ fro,
  Idly dreamin’ childish fancies,
    Buildin’ castles in the air,
  Makin’ o’ myself a hero
    Of romances rich an’ rare. 
  I kin shet my eyes an’ see it
    Jest as plain as plain kin be,
  That same old swing a-danglin’
    To the old apple-tree.

  There’s a rustic seat beneath it
    That I never kin forget. 
  It’s the place where me an’ Hallie—­
    Little sweetheart—­used to set,
  When we ’d wander to the orchard
    So ‘s no listenin’ ones could hear
  As I whispered sugared nonsense
    Into her little willin’ ear. 
  Now my gray old wife is Hallie,
    An’ I ’m grayer still than she,
  But I ‘ll not forget our courtin’
    ’Neath the old apple-tree.

  Life for us ain’t all been summer,
    But I guess we ’we had our share
  Of its flittin’ joys an’ pleasures,
    An’ a sprinklin’ of its care. 
  Oft the skies have smiled upon us;
    Then again we ’ve seen ’em frown,
  Though our load was ne’er so heavy
    That we longed to lay it down. 
  But when death does come a-callin’,
    This my last request shall be,—­
  That they ‘ll bury me an’ Hallie
    ’Neath the old apple tree.

A PRAYER

  O Lord, the hard-won miles
    Have worn my stumbling feet: 
  Oh, soothe me with thy smiles,
    And make my life complete.

  The thorns were thick and keen
    Where’er I trembling trod;
  The way was long between
    My wounded feet and God.

  Where healing waters flow
    Do thou my footsteps lead. 
  My heart is aching so;
    Thy gracious balm I need.

PASSION AND LOVE

  A maiden wept and, as a comforter,
  Came one who cried, “I love thee,” and he seized
  Her in his arms and kissed her with hot breath,
  That dried the tears upon her flaming cheeks. 
  While evermore his boldly blazing eye
  Burned into hers; but she uncomforted
  Shrank from his arms and only wept the more.

  Then one came and gazed mutely in her face
  With wide and wistful eyes; but still aloof
  He held himself; as with a reverent fear,
  As one who knows some sacred presence nigh. 
  And as she wept he mingled tear with tear,
  That cheered her soul like dew a dusty flower,—­
  Until she smiled, approached, and touched his hand!