human
Can you write me a poem about rainbow and soldier in the style of Uuno Kailas?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about rainbow and soldier in the style of Uuno Kailas:
  Waiting hearts now need thee;
Faithful in thy mission prove,
On that mission speed thee.
From the encouragement extended to our worthy publisher on the
My Grandmother's Cottage
The Fairy's Gift
A Lesson taught by Nature
Eliza obeyed, and when she returned several hours after, her face
"O, lightly, lightly tread!
A holy thing is sleep
On the worn spirit shed,
And eyes that wake to weep;
Ye know not what ye do,
That call the slumberer back
From the world unseen by you,
Unto life's dim faded track."
"In the cold, moist earth they laid her
When the forest cast the leaf,
And we wept that one so beautiful
Should have a life so brief.
And yet 't was not unmeet that one,
Like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful,
Should perish with the flowers."
Mother, mourn not for me;
No more I need of thee;
Call back the yearning which would follow where
No mortal grief can go;
All thine affection throw
Around thy living ones; they need thy care.
Let not my name still be
A word of grief to thee,
But let it bring a thought of peace and rest;
Shed for me no sad tear,
Remember, mother dear!
That I am with the perfect and the blest.
Yes, let my memory still
With joy thy bosom fill;
For, though thou dost along life's desert roam,
My spirit, like a star,
Bright burning and afar,
Shall guide thee, through the darkness, to thy home
instrument to advance noble and beneficent aims,--when we are the
"Hope, like the rainbow, a creature of light,
Is born, like the rainbow, in tears,"
It may be said that we scarcely live in the present. =Memory=, in
A soldier! a soldier!
I'm longing to be;
The name and the life
Of a soldier for me!
I would not be living
At ease and at play:
True honor and glory
I'd win in my day!
A soldier! a soldier!
In armor arrayed;
My weapons in hand,
Of no contest afraid;
I'd ever be ready
To strike the first blow,
And to fight my good way
Through the ranks of the foe.
But then, let me tell you,
No blood would I shed,
No victory seek o'er
The dying and dead;
A far braver soldier
Than this would I be;
A warrior of Truth,
In the ranks of the free!
My helmet Salvation,
Strong Faith my good shield.
The sword of the Spirit
I'd learn how to wield.
And then against evil
And sin would I fight,
Assured of my triumph,
Because in the right.
A soldier! a soldier!
O, then, let me be!
Young friends, I invite you--
Enlist now with me.
Truth's bands will be mustered--
Love's foes shall give way!
Let's up, and be clad
In our battle array!
squirrels.
mortification, and greatly to the horror of their pious father.
muskets. The children were questioned concerning the village, the
Two months passed away; all the Indian women in the village were
Oh, it was a sorrowful thing to them to part with their little
It was Sabbath noon when the children arrived in sight of their
Oh, there was joy in that village that night again and again the
The sermon which was so happily interrupted by the return of the
glorified.
ornament, or the disgrace, of any place. Yes, Boston is not, in
appearance or in fact, what it once was.
But again I am digressing too far from the story.
overstepped the bounds of right.
blasphemous, wicked word. He had uttered his _first oath._ The
It was a quiet summer's day,
The breeze blew cool and fair,
And blest ten thousand happy things
Of land, and sea, and air,
And played a thousand merry pranks
With MARY'S golden hair.
MARY was not a happy girl;
Her face was sad and sour,
And on her little pretty brow
Dark frowns did often lower,--
And she would scold, and fret, and cry,
Full fifty times an hour.
She sat and wept with grief and pain,
And did not smile at all,--
And when her friends and mates came near
She shunned them, great and small,--
And then upon the Fairy Queen
She earnestly did call.
"Oh, hither, hither, good Fairy,
I pray thee come to me!
And point me out the Path of Peace,
That I may happy be,
For I cannot, in all the world,
A moment's pleasure see!
"I try my work, my play I try,
My little playmates, too;
Help me to find true happiness,
I sadly, humbly sue;--
Oh! my lot is a darksome one,--
Fairy! what shall I do?"
A humble-bee comes riding by,
No bigger than my thumb,
And on his browny, gold-striped back,
Behold the Fairy come!
One look upon her loveliness
She wore a veil of gossamer,
Her tunic was of blue,
A golden sunbeam was her belt,
And bonnet of crimson hue,
And through the net of her purple shawl
Clear silver stars looked through.
Her slippers were of sunflower seeds,
And tied with spider's thread,
A rein of silkworm's finest yarn
Passed round the bee's brown head;
An oaten straw was her riding whip,--
Oh how her courser sped!
She beckoned to the sighing maid,
And led her a little way,
And showed a hundred fountains bright
That bubbled night and day,
And flashed their waves in the glad sunlight,
And showers of crystal spray.
She said: "Each stream has secret power
Upon the human heart,
And, as you drink, the mystic draught
Shall joy or woe impart;
'T will give you pleasant happiness,
Or sorrow's painful smart."
The founts were labelled every one,
With titles plainly seen,--
The fountains _Pride_, and _Sin_, and _Wrong_,
Goodness_ and _Love_, and many more,
Sparkled along the green.
And MARY drank at each bright fount,
To draw her grief away;
But, spite of all the water's power,
Her sorrows they would stay.
And still she mourned, and still was sad,
Through all the livelong day.
One morn she saw a little spring
She never saw before,
Down in a still and shady vale,
Covered with blossoms o'er,--
And when she 'd drunk, and still would drink
She thirsted still for more.
She gladly quaffed its cooling draught,
And found what she had sought;
No more her heart with sorrow grieved.
She thirsted now for nought;
She'd found a blessed happiness,
Beyond her highest thought.
And when she moved the vines aside
That hid the fount from sight,
In loveliest, brightest characters,
Like stars of silver light,--
_Goodness of heart, and speech, and life_,
She read in letters bright.
And MARY drank the liquid waves,
And soon her little brow
Became as pure, and clear, and white,
As bank of whitest snow;
And when she drank of that blest fount,
She purest joy did know.
Then MARY learned this highest truth.
Beyond all human art,--
That there are many things in life
Can pain and woe impart;--
But Goodness alone of act and deed
Can make a happy heart.
Strange and almost horror-struck as I felt, I did not scream out,
I cannot tell how delighted I was with this suggestion, nor how
There is another shadow which you and I, and all of us, are
"Woman, believe me, the hour is near
When He, if ye rightly would hail him,
Will neither be worshipped exclusively here.
Nor yet at the altar of Salem.
For God is a spirit, and they, who aright
Would perform the pure worship he loveth
In the heart's holy temple will seek with delight
That spirit the Father approveth."
In after time Shechem became the chief seat of the people who
yourselves, "He is our brother."
_Sophronia_. Come, girls, let us go and have our fortunes told.
_Eveline_. Oh! I should like it of all things; where shall we go?
_Sophronia_. Not right? why not?
_Sarah_. Oh, but you know this is only for amusement.
_Eveline_. Of course, we shall not believe a word she says.
_Sophronia_. Well, I am sure I am not credulous.
_Sophronia_. Oh, fudge! Mary Ann. This is altogether too bad and
_Eveline, Sarah, Sophronia_. Certainly not.
_Sarah, Eveline_. No, indeed!
_Mary Ann_. Do you suppose she thinks you believe so?
_Sophronia_. Why, yes, I do.
_Sophronia_. I doubt whether it is really benevolent.
_Sophronia_. None at all, Mary Ann. It is time wasted, and I am
_Mary Ann. (Takes her hand and looks at it intently.)
Passions strong my art doth see.
Thou must rule them, or they rule thee.
If the first, you peace will know;
If the last, woe followeth woe.
_Sarah_. Now tell mine next.
Too believing, too believing,
Thou hast learned not of deceiving.
Closely scan what seemeth fair,
And of flattering words beware.
_Eveline_. Now tell me a pleasant fortune, Mary Ann.
Lively and loving, I would not chide thee,
Do thou thy duty, and joy shall betide thee.
We were all happy then. Even Ellen smiled as she kissed her dear
chastized whom he loved.
To become a childless mother is indeed one of the most severe
They were interrupted by the entrance of the oldest child of the
affection.
Upon the peaceful breast of Faith
My troubled soul hath found repose,
Free from the sad and starless gloom
That doubting scepticism knows.
Though disappointment, care, and pain,
Have bent my heart to their decree,
One thought hath ever led me on,
It is, _that it was so to be_.
Oft would my weary spirit faint,
My heart yield almost to despair,
Did not "a still small voice" exclaim,
"There is no change, but God is there."
That mighty power which points the shaft,
And forms the spirit to endure,
Will, in its own peculiar way
And time, perform the wondrous cure.
Still may my soul, through faith, rely
Upon the promises of God;
His mercy see in every change,
And learn to bless his chastening rod.
_C_. With all my heart!
Towards the sea is a cave, where it has been supposed that Elijah
travellers, when another, to be raised above, will be exclusively
"Daily striving, though so lonely,
Every day reward shall give,
Thou shalt find by striving only,
And in loving, thou canst live."
"Have you hurt you?" exclaimed Annie, as she sprung to her side.
"There now," said the good dame; "don't you feel better?"
"Yes," said Annie, almost cheerfully.
"No," said Annie, raising her head, for she had been thinking
earnestly; every word that her kind friend had spoken went with a
"Yes," said Annie.
Annie, the gentle Annie, where was she?
A wail comes o'er the ocean,
Though faint, yet deep with woe!
A nation's poor are falling
Before the direst foe!
Grim Famine there hath seized them,
And over Erin's land
The multitudes are perishing
Beneath his blasting hand!
The father gives his morsel
To his imploring child,
Himself imploring mercy, too,
With voice and visage wild.
The ever-faithful mother
Her portion, too, will share
With those who lean upon her,
And plead her dying care.
Then father, mother, children,
Must listen, one and all,
To Famine's surer, sterner voice--
To Death's relentless call.
For means are all exhausted;
Bread! bread! There is no more!
And in that once glad cabin
The conflict now is o'er.
Fond, faithful hearts there perished;
Affections deep and true
As other homes and loved ones
Now know, or ever knew.
And why this visitation
So sweeping and so sore?
Why? why? Repeat the question
The wide world o'er and o'er!
In that same land is plenty,
Profusion, wealth, and power,
Enough to stay the famine-plague
This very day and hour.
Yes, while the poor are starving
By scores and hundreds even,
Riches and luxury send up
Their impious laugh to heaven!
Wrong! wrong! this destitution,
While there are means to save
A nation of strong-hearted men
From famine and the grave.
Thanks, thanks for riches! but a woe
To this our earth they bring,
So long as they shall fail to save
God's poor from suffering!
What lessons I did get! Whole chapters were recited from the New
"You know it's strawberry time, mother, don't you?"
"And what does Nelly want of a heap of money?"
Shall I tell how the long summer afternoon wore away, dear little
It was a pleasant walk under the drooping trees, and Nelly Grey,
"Let me carry your basket; it is too heavy for you."
The tears ran silently down the poor widow's cheek as she led the
"Oh no, Phil! I only did what anybody else would have done."
"_Anybody_? You know _I_ didn't want to Nelly," said Phil sadly.
"Oh, never mind _that_, Phil; you did afterward, you know."
"No, only Frisk's name;" and she turned to examine it with Phil.
"Why, Phil, I never saw it before; isn't it queer?"
story-telling here.
He wrote his gospel at Ephesus, and, by his labors, the truths of
Children, will you think of that precept?
Can you give another reason as good?
"Quarter of nine," was the reply.
"What is the matter, little girl?"
speaking; we had a few _real_ flowers, and some hardy girls even
These are the memories that come over me when I look out upon the
The gentle, laughing, spring had come
With eye and cheek so bright;
The bird glanced through the clear, blue air,
On wing of golden light;
And earth, in gladness, lay and smiled,
To see the beauteous sight.
The streams went singing to the sea,
And dancing to their song;
Its carpet, had the young grass spread
The hills and vales among;
Yet not a flower its bloom had shed,
The fresh green earth along.
Not yet the violet had unsealed
Its blue and loving eye;
Nor had the primrose dared unfold,
For fear that it might die;
And on the tree-tops shook the leaves,
Which oped to kiss the sky.
But so it chanced, one gentle day,
While softly wept the rain,
And sadly sighed the mourning breeze,
The flowers to see again;
A silvery snow-flake fell to earth,
Escaped from winter's chain.
And daintily it laid itself
Where greenest grass was spread,
And where the bland and warm south-wind,
Soft-footed, loved to tread,
And here the white-robed fugitive
Made for itself a bed.
The flower-goddess smiled to see
This new-born snow that fell;
"I'll change it to a flower," said she
"By magic touch, and spell;
For 'twill be long ere blossoms ope,
That spring doth love so well."
Then with a wand of living light,
She touched the feathery snow;
And on it, radiant from her cheek,
There streamed a sunny glow.
Forth from the tiny, crystal flake,
The pearly petals came;
The stem sprang up--there waved a flower,--
The SNOW-DROP was its name!
treatment, the bursting forth of a happy nature in spite of man's
The last bright page before you,
Kind reader and good friend,
Is of another Annual
The very pleasant end.
Our Book's communication
To goodly themes applied,
None of its pages would we wish
To change, expunge, or hide.
With us be Life's brief pages,
When looking back to youth,
So filled with kindly words of love,
And timely Christian truth,
That with an honest confidence
In what our deeds shall say,
With steady and firm hand we write
Our "last page," and away!