EDWARD PAYSON JACKSON. EDWARD PAYSON JACKSON. THE HE following paragraph from Appleton's Cyclopædia of American Biography will not only serve as the groundwork for a biographical sketch of the author of the following poems, but will also indicate into how few words the record of a busy and useful life may be compressed. "Jackson, Edward Payson, author, born in Erzeroum, Turkey, 15th March, 1840. His parents were American missionaries in Turkey. Edward came to the United States in 1845, and was graduated in 1863 at Amherst, where he was poet of his class. During the civil war he served in the 45th and 5th Mass. regiments. Since 1877 Mr. Jackson has been master in the Boston Latin School. He has published 'Mathematical Geography' (New York 1873) ‘A Demigod' (Harper & Brothers 1886) and 'The Earth in Space' (Heath & Co. Boston, 1887)." Mr. Jackson's life has been one of aspiration and achievement. He was graduated with honor from his college, he entered the Union Army as a private and was promoted to a lieutenancy. His novel "A Demigod" was published anonymously and was variously attributed to other noted novelists. In 1889 the American Secular Union offered a prize of $1,000-for the best essay adapted to aid in the instruction of youth in the purest principles of morality without inculcating religious doctrines and in 1891, this prize was equally divided between Mr. Jackson for a work entitled "Character Building. A Master's talks with His Pupils," and Nicholas P. Gilman for a work entitled "The Laws of Daily Conduct." Both of these works were published separately by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. and also united in a volume entitled "Conduct as a fine art " (1891). Mr. Jackson resides in Dorchester, one of the most beautiful suburban parts of Boston and is a well known member and post commander of Post 68, G. A. R. and president of the famous Chickatawbut Club of Boston. THE CHAMPION. EXULTANT, proud The hero bowed L. M. To the eager, worshipping, countless crowd, Then stood upright, Like a victor knight, A figure of virile grace and might. From the Temple of Fame The priestess came To write on her tablet the hero's name. And now behold His name enrolled 517 From her attitude Scorning the man and the multitude. But a big, broad zone With jewels shone Round his huge bulk of brawn and bone. KING CARLOS and the fiSHERMAN. RUDOLPH the fisher moored his boat, "O father, what is yonder ship And all those soldiers on the deck?" The father turned and said, "It is the flag-ship of the fleet; King Carlos is aboard: It was but now the fortress guns Their royal welcome roared. "Oh, that to me such reverence Were paid in thunder tone! Oh, that my hut a palace were, My fishing-boat a throne! "Then wouldst thou be a noble prince, Thy mother dear, a queen! "His Majesty would look on me, Under a silken canopy, On deck, King Carlos sate: His lips were pale, his soul was bowed Of cares that only empire knows. He fixed his anxious eye. MY CUBAN LOVE. I LOVE her, yet I hate her; I would I could forget The sublest fascinator I ever met. A halo floats about her, An azure aureole- I hold a taper finger Oh, would that I could sever You've seen this witch provoking, Whose charms so potent are, If you have seen me smoking My dear cigar. THE DOUBLE FOUNTAIN. HER sensitive, Madonna face With silent grief was eloquent; What cloud was it that shadowed all “Oh, tell me, is there no relief, No solace for thy tearful woe? Oh, say, where lies," I murmured low, "The fountain of thy grief?" "'Tis there!" she answered with a frown. "That font, with tears and coffee filledThat stupid, blundering waiter spilled A cupful on my gown!" WANTON PLAY. As a child builds castles in the sand, THE SWORD AND THE SONG. By one fierce battle was a nation freed, In nameless sepulchres the heroes lie; But he who only sung their valiant deed Hath cheaply purchased immortality. MARIAN TAYLOR. RS. TAYLOR was born in Birkenhead, MRCheshire, 14th, 1964, and is Cheshire, England, Jan. 14th., 1861, and is the daughter of William Coulter. Her general education was acquired in private schools in London, whither she went at an early date, owing to the death of her mother. There in the home of her uncle, Thomas Bacon, who held a high position in the Court of Chancery, she passed much of her youthful life, under the care of a loving aunt, and had many advantages. She continued her study of music after childhood at the Grove Music Academy, Liverpool, and afterwards in the metropolis at the London Conservatoire of Music, where she gained a scholarship for vocal proficiency. She then began to give lessons in vocal and instrumental music herself, and also, for several seasons, filled concert engagements-receiving high commendations from the press. At this juncture the illness of her father called her to Belfast, where she meet Mr. Edmund Taylor, who was on a visit to his native land from New York, in which city he was engaged in business as an importer of Irish linens. After an acquaintance of nearly two years they were married in England in 1887. They immediately went to San Francisco, to which city Mr. Taylor transferred his business. One child, a son, has blessed their union. For seven years past, Mrs. Taylor has been much engaged in writting for the press-poems, sketches of travel, and articles on current topics; for local and Eastern papers, dailies and magazines. Mrs. Taylor is a member of the Pacific Coast Women's Press Association, but, not having robust health, she has to limit her attentions to what she deems of prior importance, the interests of philanthropy and and religion. In the Methodist Church, to which she belongs, she is chiefly interested in the missionary cause, and her efforts, by voice and pen, are greatly appreciated and widely efficent. STORM AND SUNSHINE. G. B. Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning (Ps. xxx). THE Somber pall of darkness casts its shadow o'er the earth; The corn-fields are deserted, gone the frolic and the mirth; The moon her lamp hath hidden 'neath the hurring, restless clouds That sweep the vaulted heavens, like vast-trailing, ghostly shrouds; Sad winds are moaning dirges to the waves, as up they leap; All nature seems in unrest, like a child that can not sleep; The trees are rocking madly in a frenzy of despair, All reckless of the birdlings vainly seeking shelter there. A woman, from her casement, looks with wild and weeping eyes Upon the earth in travail, and upon the stormtossed skies. Her heart is torn with anguish, and she cries aloud in pain, "O God, in mercy pity me, and send me peace again." * The glorious sun is rising in his majesty and might, The earth with roseate blushes greets his coming with delight; The corn-ears whisper wisely, "Tis the breaking of the day," While birds begin to carol in the trees not far away. The wind is singing softly to the waves a lullaby, That stills them, as a mother stills her fretful infant's cry; The elements their warfare have agreed once more to cease, That on the brow of nature may descend the hush of peace. The sun upon a window shines with tender, solemn light, Illumining a woman, gazing out upon the sight Of earth and skies resplendent, like her own glad heart within Since God spake words of comfort in the midst of battle's din. O summer winds, your story tell, with gentle, wooing breath How joy is born of sorrow, and how life is born of death! "THE MESSAGE OF THE FLOWERS. " "When we are sick God sends His messengers to us.' THEY brought me lovely roses- They brought me fragrant violets- They brought me the chrysanthemum- O flowers from Heaven's garden Ye have come my pain to share; Perfumed messengers of beauty Teaching hope and faith and duty, Let me kiss your faces fair! THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. "AH! this world is dark and drear Now that he no more is here, And he cometh not," she said. "Nay, this world is bright and fair, Thou art wrong repining there," Sang the young bird overhead. "Oh!" she cried, “that I might die Now that he no more is nigh And both hope and joy have fled." "Nay, go take thy heart again, Bravely hiding all the pain," Sweetly sang the bird o'erhead. "Happiness is not for me, Cruel mocking one," she said. "Comforter, I bless thy song; Selfish grief must e'er be wrong, And I will be brave," she said. Then she went upon her way, And through many a happy day, Mem'ry heard the bird o'erhead. REVIVAL. ACROSS the sea the moon's clear light is stealing, Like touch of calm athward a troubled breast; A touch that finds the hidden depths of feeling, And finding, gently soothes to perfect rest. The golden stars in heaven's vault are shinging Despairing sinks, ere half his work is done. O soft night air, with ozone heavy laden, Thou touchest ev'ry nerve with loving hand, Till pain on phantom wing is quickly speeding Her way across the gleaming stretch of sand! The tired brain revives, the wearied body Awakes to life all glorious and newAwakes to find a gracious benediction Awaiting those who live to dare and do. JULIA JULIA HARRIS MAY. ULIA HARRIS MAY, the daughter of Rev. Wm. May, was born in Strong, Maine. When only four years old her father died, and her mother was left with a home and four little children. Two of these soon followed the father, and the two girls, Sarah and Julia, with their brave little mother, were left to walk the life journey alone. At fourteen, Julia taught her first school, and showed at once her peculiar gift for teaching. She continued to teach summer schools and go on with her own education in the fall and winter for several years, and then entered Mt. Holyoke Semimary, from which she was graduated with distinction. After finishing her studies she went South to teach, and remained there during the War. She established a private school, her mother and sister came to her, and they had a happy home. She loved the South and the people, and prospered among them, but the climate began to affect her unfavorably, and like all true daughters of Maine, she missed the strong air of the wintry coast and the balsam of the pines. The family returned to Maine, and after a brief rest and recuperation, the sisters opened the May school at Farmington. It was from the first a brilliant success, and the teachers won the love and admiration of the community. In 1882, the citizens of Strong, her native town, adjoining Farmington, induced the sisters to remove their school to that town, building for them a school house on their own paternal grounds, in the shadow of the elms which watched her childhood. Julia was the poet of the household, and her name became familiar to lovers of graceful verse. Sketches, letters, stories, reviews and poems from the two prolific pens, made the winter pass like a dream, and each spring the school .opened with renewed prosperity. Into this lovely and happy household death looked enviously, and the daughters mourned their excellent mother. But they still had each other, and worked cheerfully on until December 30, 1888, the loss of her sister Sarah, left Miss May almost heart-broken. The bond between them had been of rare strength and tenderness. |