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another little autograph book filled with poems

 
One by One

One by one the sands are flowing
One by one the moments fall
Some are coming, some are going
Do not strive to grasp them all.

One by one bright gifts from heaven
Joys are sent thee here below
Take them readily when given
Ready too to let them go.

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee
Do not fear an armed band
One shall fade as others greet thee
Shadows passing thru the land.

Do not look at life's long sorrows
See how small each moments pain
God will help thee for tomorrow
Every hour begin again.

Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear
Luminous the crown and holy
If we set each gem with care.

Do not linger with regretting
Nor for passing hours despond
Nor the daily toil forgetting
Look too eagerly beyond.

Hours are golden links
God's tokens reaching heaven
But take them one by one
Lest the chain be broken
E're they pilgrimage be done

Lyra Anglicana

L???? G??????
(looks like Lucio Godiow)
March 9th 1899


 

A little work, a little play
To keep us going and so, good day!
A little warmth, a little light
Of love's bestowing and so, good-night!

A little fun to match the sorrow
Of each day's growing and so, good morrow
A little trust that when we die
We reap our sowing and so, Good-bye!

Du Mauriers' Trilby

H. S. or G. Umpleby

 

The day is cold and dark and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall
But at every gust the dead leaves fall
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold and dark and dreary
It rains and the wind is never weary
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining
The fate is the common fate of all
Into each life some rain must fall
Some days must be dark and dreary.

H. W. Longfellow

Annie Hamilton Johnson
June 6th 1899

 

This autograph - a Scotchmans - is inscribed in remembrance of many happy memories and genuine kindnesses received from Irish hearts.

John Still

Aberdeen

30th August 1899

Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act,
Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar
The friends thou hast & their adoption tried

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment

Neither a borrower nor a lender be
For loan oft loses both itself and friend
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry
This above all - to thine own self be true.

And it must follow, as the night the day
Thou canst not then be false to any man

Hamlet

George Duncan Fraser
8th June 1905

(15th July 1883)

 

When asked a verse or two to write
By way of souvenir
We scratch our heads and tend to feel
Somewhat queer

The theme its strain and length
Original or copy
Affords us ground for showing
Lots of sense or folly

That our name might stand
A real synonym
For everything that's good
Is a laudable opinion

Mine rather that my friends
And all I've ever met
Might lovingly be had
Links never to forget

Links formed throughout long years
Or at a single meeting
The former stoutly anvil'd
The later slowly heating

That through the forge of life
When called upon to pass
None should say of the other
We loved, but now alas!

Instead of mutual sympathy
Or thoughtful service render'd
The fire of trouble us between
Divided hearts engendered

Jos. Moore, 18/10/99

Copywright


 

That Old Arm Chair

What sweet forms carved around me
What visions fill the air!
What nymphs and cupids gather
Around that old arm-chair!

What ecstasy now fills me!
Possessed by fancies rare
I shut my eyes and dreamily
Enjoy that old arm-chair

What yearnings would be satisfied
Of only ? weren't there!
Heaven then would more than smile on me
Within that old arm-chair!

Andrew W. Stewart?

 

Twas brillig, when the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe

C'arroll

J. W. Kernohan / '99 (1899)

 

There are no dead; We heap above white bosoms
The clay of valleys, or the sea side sands
And violets twine, or pale anemone blossoms
To crown their resling? with our trembling hands

But oh! above us are the brows immortal?
The dear, sweet eyes that loved and love us still
And far beyond the shadow of Death's portal
Love's own fair land will Love's own dreams fulfil

Marie Stewart Hill

Oct. 14th 1901

from Mother's scrapbook

 

Not in the sunshine, not in the rain
Not in the night of the stars untold
Shall we ever all meet again
Or be as we were in the days of old

But as ships cross, and more cheerily go
Having changed tidings upon the sea
So I am richer by them I know
and they are not poorer, I trust by me

Marie H. Stewart, Belfast

April 9th 1900

 

Lois the Healer prayed
With soul uplift
Oh! Love the Beautiful
Give me this gift

Comfort & help to be
Where'er I go
Cool in the summertime
Warmth in the snow

(Copy)

M. K. Moore

 

Seek to be good, but aim to be great
A woman's noblest station is retreat
Her fairest virtues fly from public sight
Domestic worth that shows too great a light

Helen Moore

Carrickfergus

March 31/06 (1906)

 

Lois the Healer prayed
With soul uplift
Oh! Love the Beautiful
Give me this gift

Comfort & help to be
Where'er I go
Cool in the summertime
Warmth in the snow

(Copy)

M. K. M.

 

You say that my love is plain, But that I can never allow
When I see one thought for others, That is written upon her brow.

The eyes are not fine I own, She has not a well cut nose
But a smile for other's pleasure, And a sigh for other's woes.

Quick to perceive a want, Quicker to set it right,
Quickest in overlooking, Injury wrong or slight.

Nothing to say for herself, That is the fault you find
Hark to her words to the children
Winning & soft & kind

Hark to her words to the sick, Look at her patient ways
Every word she utters, Speaks to the speakers' praise

Nothing to say for herself, Right, yes, most right you are
But plenty to say for others, And is not that better far

Purity, truth and love, Are they such common things
If hers were a common nature, Women would all have wings

Talent she may not have, Beauty, nor wit, nor grace
But until she's among the angels, She cannot be commonplace

Arthur Heathcote

Hattie or Mattie Kirkby

1st April 1905


I know I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty
Since both of them wither and fade
But I'll gain a good name by well doing my duty
This will scent like a rose, when I'm dead

H. M. 1902

 

All through life there are wayside inns
Where man may refresh his soul with love
Even the lowest may quench his thirst
at rivulets fed by springs from above

Longfellow

Alice Robertshaw

January 23rd 1903

 

Be strong be good, be pure
The right only shall endure

Longfellow

M. Robertshaw, January 23rd 1903