SILVER THREADS. TO MRS. JOHN FARNSWORTH, FORT SCOTT, KANSAS. How sad the years do beckon back Our thoughts along Life's beaten track; Float round us as they come and go, And sad the song old Ocean sings, To find our ships were tempest tossed, And sad our souls are bowed in grief, The sacred book our lives have made, Yet sweet it is for us to know, That flowers do live beneath the snow; And Winter always hath its Spring, When flowers will bloom and birds will sing; And souls we love will grow more fair, When silver threads come in the hair. WHAT IS THE WORLD TO ME? WHAT is the world to me without That says: No faith nor love shall last. What is the world to me, when no Soft lips, with their caressing, Invite my soul to stay, and go Not elsewhere for its blessing?- What is the world to me, when those Shine not for me in splendor?- What is the world to me, if there What is the world to me, although My praise be world-wide spoken, Without some one to say, I know His pledge was never broken?— For piping phantoms never voice That praise which makes my heart rejoice. What is the world to me, with all My own, my heart's sweet treasure? "THE MAPLES." NAME of my home, at Mound City. Suggested by MRS. ELLA C. PORTER. YE village of the Maple hills, Bowed in the shadows of the past, Let every sense that beauty thrills For Nature brings her gifts to cast Ye Maples of the towering hills How thy tall trunks and branches cast And while my soul thy beauty thrills, For in the shadows of the past, Dear Maples! now thy shimmering leaves Turn throbbing to the evening breeze With floating bliss. How oft beneath thy dripping eaves, Have warblers of the summer trees How doth my soul the shimmering leaves How oft my heart doth throbbing seize When baby arms, in snow-white sleeves, That spread the shadows of the trees, Sweet Maples! Now your saddening shade As reverently I lowly bow Two sister hearts are lowly laid, Both safe and sweet: "The Maples" cast their shadows now, Close to their feet. |