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Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

English

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

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A Holiday Song.

                Away to the hills, away! -
There is health in the summer air; -
The rustling bough, and the bending spray,
And the breath of flowers are there -
The honey-bee's hum and the wild bird's song,
And sunshine and summer winds all day long!

Away to the hills, away!
There are peace and calmness there -
White cloudlets floating in light all day
Through the blue transparent air, -
Rose-tinted mornings and noontides rare,
And sunsets of crimson and gold are there!

Away to the hills, away!
From your weariness and care -
From toil that has held on with tyrant sway,
To quiet and calmness there;
And bask in the beauty an...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

A Parting Hymn.

Father in Heaven, to thee,
Guardian and friend,
Lowly the suppliant knee
Here would we bend! -
Blessing thee ere we part,
Each with a grateful heart,
For all thy love doth send -
Plenteous and free!

Thanks for thy hand outspread
Ever in power
O'er each defenceless head
In danger's hour!
Thanks for the light arid love,
From thy full fount above -
A rich and constant shower,
O'er us still shed!

Go thou with us, we pray,
Whom duties call
To our high tasks away,
Each one, and all, -
Go, with thy Spirit's might,
Go, with thy Gospel's light
- Whatever may befall -
With us alway

Now let thy blessing rest
On us anew -
Brother, and friend, and guest,
Tri...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Abraham Lincoln.

    No martyr-blood hath ever flowed in vain! -
No patriot bled, that proved not freedom's gain!
Those tones, which despots heard with fear and dread
From living lips, ring sterner from the dead;
And he who dies, lives, oft, more truly so
Than had he never felt the untimely blow.

And so with him thus, in an instant, hurled
From earthly hopes and converse with the world.
Each trickling blood-drop shall, with sudden power
Achieve the work of years in one short hour,
And his faint death-sigh more strong arms unite
In stern defence of Freedom and of Right,
Than all he could have said by word or pen,
In a whole life of threescore years and ten!

Dead! fell assassin! did you think him dead,
When, with unmurmuring lips, he bowed his head,
Wh...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

After Fifty Years

A MOTHER'S ADDRESS TO HER FAMILY ON HER GOLDEN-WEDDING DAY.


Just fifty years, my daughters,
Just fifty years, my son,
Since your sire and I together
The march of life begun.
It does not seem so long ago
As half a hundred years,
Since hand in hand we started out,
To face life's toils and tears.

And toils, and tears, too, we have met;
Yet sunbeams oft have come -
Many and beautiful, and bright -
To cheer our happy home;
Sweet infant faces, thro' the years,
Are smiling back to me;
And, God be praised, each precious one
Still at my side I see!

Yet ye are changed, my children three,
Your baby-bloom is gone;
And you are growing old, I see,
Grey hairs are coming on;
Yet wh...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Alone

Alone, alone! - the night is very silent,
Voiceless the stars are, and the pallid moon
Through the unknown sends down no tone, no utt'rance
To break the hush of midnight's solemn noon!
I stretch my arms toward the unanswering heavens,
'Tis empty space, - no form, no shape is here!
I call, - no answer to my cry is given,
Powerless my voice falls on Night's leaden ear!

Alone, alone! - I thought the dead were near me, -
The holy dead. E'en now, methought I heard
Low tones whose music long ago did cheer me,
That shadowy hands the parting branches stirred
'Twas but the night wind's mournful sigh above me, -
'Twas but the lonely streamlet's grieving tone,
No voice comes back from those who once did love me, -
No white hand beckons...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

An Allegory - An Old Lesson In A New Dress.

"Here is a lantern, my little boy,"
Said a father to his child,
"And yonder's a wood, a lonely wood,
Tangled, and rough, and wild;
And now, this night, - this very hour,
Though gloomy and dark it be,
By the single light of this lamp alone,
You must cross the wild to me!

"I'll be on the farther side, my son,
So follow the path you see,
And at the end of this narrow way,
Awaiting you, I will be!"
Thus bidden, the child set out, but soon,
With the gloomy waste ahead,
Oppressed with terror and doubt he stopped,
Shaking with fear and dread.

"Father! - father! - I cannot see! -
The forest is thick and black,
I'm sure there is danger ahead of me,
Please, father, call me back!"
But the father's vo...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

An Evening Hymn

"I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep; for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety"


The tranquil hours steal by
On drowsy wings and slow,
And over all the peaceful sky
The stars of evening glow.

No gathering clouds I see,
I hear no rising blast,
I fold my tired hands restfully,
As though all storms were past.

Yet, whether so or not,
O Lord, thou knowest best!
This night, let every anxious thought
And trembling fear have rest

This night I will lie down
In peace beneath thine eye,
Nor heed what ills unseen may frown,
Since thou art ever nigh.

I will lie down and sleep,
From every terror free;
Nor wake to tremble...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

At Home

I thought it pleasant when a manly sire
Weary of foreign travel, at the door
Of his own cottage left his dusty staff,
And entering in, sat down with those he loved
Beside the hearth of home; - and pleasant, too,
When a fond mother, absent for a day,
At eve returning, from the sunset hill
That overlooked her cot, descried her boys
Flying with joyous feet along the path
To greet her coming; and, with clasping hands
Of baby welcome, lead her through the gate
Of her sweet home.

Pleasant I deemed it, too,
When a young man, a wanderer for years
From those he loved, at length sat down again
With sire and mother in the twilight hour
At home; - and when a gentle daughter, long
From mother's kiss and father's blessing far,<...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

At The Grave Of A Young Mother

        A transient day,
A troubled night,
The swift decay,
The certain blight,
And death and dust; -

And are these all? -
Nay: those are past;
And she who sleeps
Shall wake at last
Among the just!

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Autumn And Winter.

I.

Beautiful Autumn is dead and gone -
Weep for her!
Calm, and gracious, and very fair,
With sunny robe and with shining hair,
And a tender light in her dreamy eye,
She came to earth but to smile and die -
Weep for her!

Nay, nay, I will not weep!
She came with a smile,
And tarried awhile,
Quieting Nature to sleep; -
Then went on her way
O'er the hill-tops grey,
And yet - and yet, she is dead, you say!
Nay! - she brought us blessings, and left us cheer,
And alive and well shell return next year! -
Why should I weep?


II.

Desolate Winter has come again -
Frown on him!
He comes with a withering breath,

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Balmy Morning

Balmy morning! blessed morning!
Dew-drops bright
All the emerald glade adorning
In thy light -
In thy golden glowing beam
With an ever-changeful gleam
Flashing sparkling deeply glowing
Varying tints of beauty showing
Everywhere
Radiant are
In thy welcome light!

Balmy morning! blessed morning!
Flowers look up,
With a precious, pearly off'ring,
In each cup -
Dewy off'ring gleaned by night,
As a tribute to the light, -
Far more precious than the gem
Of a monarch's diadem,
Is the gift
Which they lift
To thy welcome light!

Balmy morning! blessed morning!
Sounds of mirth,
From the vocal vales ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Be In Earnest

Be in earnest, Christian toilers,
Life is not the summer, dream
Of the careless, child that gathers
Daisies in the noontide beam!
It hath conflict, it hath danger,
It hath sorrow, toil, and strife;
Yet the weak alone will falter
In the battle-field of life.

There are burdens you may lighten,
Toiling, struggling ones may cheer,
Tear-dimmed eyes that you may brighten,
Thorny paths that you may clear; -
Erring ones, despised, neglected,
You may lead to duty back, -
Beacon-lights to be erected,
All along life's crowded track.

There are wrongs that must be righted,
Sacred rights to be sustained,
Truths, though trampled long and slighted,
'Mid the strife to be maintained; -
Heavy, brooding mists...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Be Still.

            O throbbing heart, be still!
Canst thou not bear
The heavy dash of Memory's troubled tide,
Long sternly pent, but broken forth again,
Sweeping all barriers ruthlessly aside,
And leaving desolation in its train
Where all was fair?

Fair, did I say? - Oh yes! -
I'd reared sweet flowers
Of steadfast hope, and quiet, patient trust,
Above the wreck and ruin of my years; -
Had won a plant of beauty from the dust,
Fanned it with breath of prayer, and wet with tears
Of loneliest hours!

O throbbing heart, be still!
That cherished flower -
Faith in thy God - last grown, yet first in worth,
Will spring anew ere long - it ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Beyond The Shadows.

Thou hast entered the land without shadows,
Thou who, 'neath the shadow, so long
Hast sat with thy white hands close-folded,
And lips that could utter no song;
Through a rift in the cloud, for an instant,
Thine eyes caught a glimpse of that shore,
And Earth with its gloom was forgotten,
And Heaven is thine own evermore!

We see not the glorious vision,
Nor the welcoming melodies hear,
That, from bowers of beauty Elysian,
Float tenderly sweet to thine ear;
Round us, lie Earth's desolate midnight,
Her winter-plains bare and untrod, -
Round thee, is the glad, morning sunlight
That beams from the City of God!

Our eyes have grown heavy with weeping, -
Thine, "the King in his beauty" behold
And thou leanest th...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Brethren, Go! A Valediction.

Brethren, go! the day is bright'ning
As the sultry noon steals on,
And the fields, already whit'ning,
Tell of labor to be done.

There are toilsome days before you,
Burdens that you may not shun,
Clouds will gather darkly o'er you,
Reeds will fail you one by one.

Yet go forth to strong endeavor,
'Neath the shadow of the cross;
He who calls will leave you never, -
Never let you suffer loss!

Go; the voices of the dying
Float on every passing breeze;
Tones of wild, imploring crying
Come from lands beyond the seas!

Go where pain and sorrow languish,
Go where Sin works strife and woe,
Cleanse Earth's stain, and heal her anguish,
Jesus calls you - brethren, go!

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Bright Thoughts For A Dark Day

Will the shadows be lifted to-morrow? -
Will the sunshine come ever again? -
Will the clouds, that are weeping in sorrow,
Their glorious beauty regain?
Will the forest stand forth in its greenness? -
The meadows smile sweet as before? -
And the sky, in its placid sereneness,
Bend lovingly o'er us once more?

Will the birds sing again as we heard them,
Ere the tempest their gentle notes hushed? -
Will the breeze float again in its freedom,
Where lately its melody gushed?
Will the beautiful angel of sunset
Drape the heavens in crimson and gold,
As the day-king serenely retireth,
'Mid grandeur and glory untold?

Yea; the clouds will be lifted to-morrow,
From valley, and hill-top, and plain;
And sunshine, and...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Broken

I.

Broken!
It's only a ring - a plain, old ring,
Worn down to a thread almost -
Fling it away - the useless thing!
What value now can it boast? -
Fling it away!
Yet stay! - oh stay
Ere you cast it away!
There's a tale of the vanished years
That ever will cling,
To that broken ring,
That hallows and endears -
Oh stay!
In vain! - in vain! - What matters it now
That tenderest memories cling
To that thread of gold so wasted and old -
Who cares for a broken ring? -
Fling it away!


II.

Broken!
It's only a vase ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Brother, Rest.

IN MEMORY OF THE REV. J. E. V.


Rest, brother, rest! Thy eyes no more shall weep
O'er unhealed anguish and unconquered sin;
Thy peaceful slumber, tranquilized and deep,
Is marred no more by Earth's discordant din.
Calm are the skies above thy quiet bed,
And calm is Earth in Summer-glories dressed,
And cool and sweet the fresh mould richly spread
Above thy folded hands and peaceful breast.

Oh, could my voice thy placid slumber break,
And win thee back to mortal scenes again, -
Bid thee, unblamed, thy heavenly paths forsake,
Once more to walk with me 'mid care and pain,
I could not, dare not breathe the word, for thou
Hast long enough toiled where the dark curse lies
On all Earth's fairest fruitage; - brother, now
...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

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