Read Ebook: The Album Writer's Friend Comprising More Than Three Hundred Choice Selections of Poetry and Prose Suitable for Writing in Autograph Albums Valentines Birthday Christmas and New Year Cards. by Ogilvie J S John Stuart Compiler

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PAGE DEDICATION VERSES, 5 SENTIMENT AND AFFECTION, 9 MISCELLANEOUS, 27 ESTEEM AND CONFIDENCE, 45 BIRTHDAY VERSES, 49 HUMOROUS, 53 CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR, 57

>--DEDICATION VERSES--<

SUITABLE FOR INSCRIPTION ON TITLE PAGES OF ALBUMS.

MY Album's open! Come and see! What! Won't you waste a line on me? Write but a thought, a word or two, That Memory may revert to you.

TO MY FRIENDS:--

MY Album is a garden spot Where all my friends may sow, Where thorns and thistles flourish not, But flowers alone may grow. With smiles for sunshine, tears for showers, I'll water, watch and guard these flowers.

GO forth, thou little volume, I leave thee to thy fate; To love and friendship truly Thy leaves I dedicate.

GO, Album! range the gay parterre; From gem to gem, from flower to flower, Select with taste and cull with care, And bring your offering, fresh and rare, To this sweet maiden's bower!

WHEN years elapse, It may, perhaps, Delight us to review these scraps, And live again 'mid scenes so gay, That Time's rough hand has swept away; For when the eye, bedimmed with age, Shall rest upon each treasured page, Those pleasant hours That once were ours Shall come again, like Autumn flowers, To bloom and smile upon us here When all things else seem sad and drear; 'Twill tune our hearts and make them sing, And turn our Autumn into Spring!

GO, little book, thy destined course pursue, Collect memorials of the just and true, And beg of every friend so near Some token of remembrance dear.

AS life flows on from day to day, And this, your book, soon fills, How many may be far away From treasured vales and hills?

But there is joy in future time To turn the pages o'er, And see within a name or rhyme From one you'll see no more.

LIFE is a volume, From youth to old age, Each year forms a chapter, Each day is a page. May none be more charming, More womanly true, Than that, pure and noble, Sketched yearly by you.

WE may write our names in Albums; We may trace them in the sand; We may chisel them in marble, With a firm and skillful hand; But the pages soon are sullied, Soon each name will fade away; Every monument will crumble, Like all earthy hopes, decay. But, dear friend, there is an Album, Full of leaves of snowy white, Where no name is ever tarnished, But forever pure and bright. In that Book of Life, God's Album, May your name be penned with care And may all who here may write, Have their names forever there.

SENTIMENT and AFFECTION.

PEACE be around thee, wherever thou rovest; May life be for thee one summer's day; And all that thou wish, and all that thou lovest, Come smiling around thy summer way. If sorrow e'er this calm should break, May even thy tears pass off so lightly, Like spring showers, they will only make The smiles that follow shine more brightly.

MAY the chain of friendship formed by the links which are dropped here, serve to unite you more closely in spirit with the friends who have worked it.

May each link be brought to a white heat in the fires of Love; and, forged on the anvils of Truth, may they be strong as iron, yet light as air: keeping you bravely to the duties of Life. And when the chain of human bondage shall be broken, may they become flowers of eternal brightness in the gardens from whence cometh exceeding peace.

OUR lives are albums, written through With good or ill--with false or true-- And, as the blessed angels turn The pages of our years, God grant they read the good with smiles, And blot the bad with tears.

THE gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without adversity.

TIME advances like the slowest tide, but retreats like the swiftest current.

WHAT'S the use of always fretting At the trials we shall find Ever strewn along our pathway-- Travel on, and never mind.

LIFE giveth unto each his space, A span of earth, an arch of sky, And unto each a several grace-- To each a separate destiny. And some were born to win and spend, And some to love unto the end.

THERE is another album Filled with leaves of spotless white, Where no name is ever tarnished, But forever pure and bright. In the Book of Life--God's album-- May your name be penned with care, And may all who here have written, Write their names forever there.

DAILY we write our autographs on the minds and hearts of those around us.

"POOR is the friendless master of a world. A world in purchase for a friend, is gain."

SO slight a favor 'tis you crave, That I can scarce refuse compliance; Nor shall I use the page you gave, To set your champions at defiance.

Dear lady, vainly awed, I praise That dimpled hand I pressed at parting; Or those dark eyes, beneath whose gaze A cupid lurks equipped for darting.

Nor can I hope to lightly touch On charms so oft the theme of lovers; To add another, while so much That beautiful about thee hovers.

I can but add one little pearl To all the gems about thee scattered; And say again, sweet, artless girl, That all thy poets have not flattered.

I HAVE tried for a week, and vainly I seek Words of wisdom to write to you here; So, wishing you life free from sorrow and strife, Nor wanting in friends and good cheer, With health--perhaps wealth-- Love better than self, And Truth, far the best, to the end; Since content it maintains While existence remains, I subscribe myself, Truly, your friend.

STRENGTH for to-day, in house and home, To practice forbearance sweetly; To scatter kind words and loving deeds, Still trusting in God completely.

A VOLUME of this kind, it is supposable, will be more or less frequently referred to, in future years, to revive fading recollections and recall pleasant associations; and, therefore, though it is so easy to moralize, it seems eminently fitting that helpful suggestions should accompany familiar autographs.

Let me say, then, that while in your youth a favorable combination of circumstances permits so much of happiness, the conditions of its enjoyment cannot always remain as now.

As the responsibilities, at present borne for you, shall come to rest on your own shoulders, and the darker shades of life's history are unfolded, you will find the peace, which floweth like a river, only in the degree in which you resolutely perform every known duty; and, forgetting your own wants--whether fancied or real--devote your thoughts, as well as your energies, to making the society in which you move, happier for your being.

That you may indulge in no selfish ease; but bestow, as well as enjoy, a full share of the pleasures of time, and afterward receive a crown of glory, is the earnest wish of your friend--

I WOULD that I could express my mind To you, dear friend, in scribbling some rhyme; But you know my failing as well as I, And you'd better get another to try.

THAT one who can work right on, quietly waiting for recognition, if it come: if not, yet right on, is the true nobleman.

DOST thou know, love, that thy smile Makes the whole world bright for me? Just as sunrise pours a sudden Purple glory on the sea. Ah! had I that power, ever Should the world look bright to thee.

I KNOW not what to write about, So many themes are pressing; All good enough in very truth, But quite unprepossessing: Each moment of thy future life, Live holy, whether maid or wife.

OH, those eyes! so calm, serene-- Sweetest eyes were ever seen. Will the woes of coming years Ever shadow them with tears? Shall my life the sunshine own, That last night upon me shone, When, beneath the summer skies, Beamed on me those brown, brown eyes?

THESE little souvenirs possess not their greatest value when first written; but as time, with scythe in hand, passes along, and we are left standing, we are not the same, but these lines remain. Some, to cheer the saddened by awakening slumbering memories of better things; and others serving as guide-boards on the road to eternity.

AND thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm.

O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know e're long-- Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.

PRESS on! our life is not a dream Though often such its mazes seem. We were not born to live at ease-- Ourselves alone to aid and please To each a daily task is given; A labor that shall fit for heaven, When duty calls, let love grow warm, Amid the sunshine or the storm; With faith, life's trials boldly breast Then come a conqueror to thy rest.

AS you travel through life, scatter kind words and gentle deeds; in so doing, you will enrich your soul. Withhold them, and it tends to poverty.

MAY your life be like the day--more beautiful in the evening; like the summer--aglow with promise; and, like the autumn, rich with the golden sheaves, where good works and deeds have ripened on the field.

LET the road be rough and dreary, And its end far out of sight; Foot it bravely--strong or weary;-- Trust in God, and do the right.

LIFE is but a day, at best, Sprung from night, in darkness lost; Hope not sunshine every hour; Fear not--clouds will always lower.

ALL the paths of faith, tho' severed wide, O'er which the feet of prayerful reverence pass Meet at the gate of Paradise at last.

IF I wake, or if I sleep, Still the memory I keep Of the tender light that lies In the depths of those brown eyes.

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