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LIZZIE G. BEEBE.
Lizzie G. Beebe was born, in 1842, at Hartford, Trumbull county, Ohio, where she still resides. Her poetry has appeared chiefly in the Ohio Farmer, and has a "tender grace" and pensive sweetness of its own. The two little poems that follow, favorably illustrate the peculiarities of her taste and manner.
DAY'S DEPARTURE.
Oh! bright and glorious was the hand
That slowly led away.
Through the gemmed doorway of the West,
The lingering, blushing Day.
That slowly led away.
Through the gemmed doorway of the West,
The lingering, blushing Day.
They met upon the threshold—
Bright Day and dewy Night—
And Day gave to her sister's care
The earth so green and bright
Bright Day and dewy Night—
And Day gave to her sister's care
The earth so green and bright
"Sing gently, oh ! ray sister Night,
Thy soothing song of rest;
Shadow it with thy curtains dim,
And fold it to thy breast.
Thy soothing song of rest;
Shadow it with thy curtains dim,
And fold it to thy breast.
"Breathe gently on the waving trees,
The wild bird in its nest,
And soothe the weary, restless child.
Upon its mother's breast.
The wild bird in its nest,
And soothe the weary, restless child.
Upon its mother's breast.
"Kiss all the tender, meek-eyed flowers
That in thy shadows weep ;
Oh! with thy softest murmurs hush
My darling ones asleep.
That in thy shadows weep ;
Oh! with thy softest murmurs hush
My darling ones asleep.
"And the calm star-eyes will look down
With their pure and dreamy light.
To see how peacefully the earth
Sleeps in thy arms, oh Night!"
With their pure and dreamy light.
To see how peacefully the earth
Sleeps in thy arms, oh Night!"
THE SHADOW OF THE OLD ELM-TREE.
Steal gently, sunshine, through its graceful boughs.
And paint its shadow as ye did of yore.
And I will dream a little fairy form
Is playing still beside the cottage door.
And paint its shadow as ye did of yore.
And I will dream a little fairy form
Is playing still beside the cottage door.
Float softly, breezes, 'mid the trembling
leaves.
And make the shadows flicker, as of old ;
And I will dream my fingers wander still,
With soft caresses, through her curls of gold.
leaves.
And make the shadows flicker, as of old ;
And I will dream my fingers wander still,
With soft caresses, through her curls of gold.
But ah! the sunshine comes not at my call;
To my lone heart there comes no shadowy trace
Of the bright head, all golden with its curls.
Of the sweet voice, and the lost angel face.
To my lone heart there comes no shadowy trace
Of the bright head, all golden with its curls.
Of the sweet voice, and the lost angel face.
Beneath the long and waving blades of grass.
They laid the sunshine of my life away ;
For as the shadow rests upon her grave.
So lies a shadow on my heart to-day.
They laid the sunshine of my life away ;
For as the shadow rests upon her grave.
So lies a shadow on my heart to-day.
And yet, I know, my darling has but gone
To the bright realm beyond death's cold dark sea;
But my poor heart will feel that here she sleeps.
Beneath the shadow of the Old Elm-tree.
To the bright realm beyond death's cold dark sea;
But my poor heart will feel that here she sleeps.
Beneath the shadow of the Old Elm-tree.
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