Historic leaves, volume 2, April, 1903 - January, 1904

Among the poems is a plaintive song of ‘The Wild Rose.’ Almost the only poem of a sentimental cast celebrates an experience while the author was journeying homeward from California by way of the Isthmus of Panama. He had met a fair stranger on board ship, but now the parting must come. Surely there is a touch of Whittier in the following lines—–

And that was all. The dream is o'er;
     No word from lip or pen;
Her smiling eyes I'll see no more,
     Nor hear her voice again.

Sometimes the past will come to me
     On mem'ry's grateful tide;
I sail again the western sea,
     And she is by my side.

The day has melted like a dream
     Beyond the billow's crest,
And softly now the moonbeams stream
     Across the ocean's breast.

The night wind sounds a soothing dirge
     Around the corded poles,
And, stretching far, the phosphor surge
     In chastened splendor rolls. . . . .

Back from the swiftly gliding hull
     There gleams a pathway white,
O'er which through all the day the gull
     Has winged his silent flight.

Now with the scene comes gently forth
     The music from her mouth;
Tis gone, and I am in the North,
     And she is in the South.

The column of Pencillings in the Somerville Journal has long attracted the attention of exchange editors throughout the country. Particularly in the South and West, papers make liberal use of the mingled fun and wisdom to be found in this