A  Child SPIRIT

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CORA L.V. Scott Hatch Tappan RICHMOND 
1840 - 1923

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     To those whom she loves
     “I love Papa best.”
     “I love Mamma best.”

And to all Mammas and Papas who have
Darlings in the Spirit World.





     When the fragrant purple violets came,
And the baby faces of the pansies smiled,
     The cowslips and butter-cups were aflame,
And the woods and hills with beauty beguiled,

     When the honey locusts were abloom,
Filling all the house with their scented breath,
     You sang to me in that radiant room,
Sang me over the “River of Life”—Not death;

     “The beautiful Hills” were not far away,
“The Sweet bye and bye” was already here;
     Over the Purple Mountains of Day;
Across the Stream that is flowing so near.

     Ouina came with her Pearly Canoe—
You know how sweetly she bore me over—
Just a little beyond your view,
     Just to her banks of blooming clover.

     You know it all; you knew it then;
     But Papa and Mamma, I was not gone,
The only grief I had was when
     You thought  “she is dead”—I felt alone.

     For I loved you “both the best” you know,
Not “Mamma the best” nor “Papa the best,”
     But both the same—I told you so,
     And you tried it often in laughing jest.

     And “just the same” when my body went
And I was left there with both of you;
     And there were the others to whom you sent
Word by me—those hidden from your view.

     Because the human eyes cannot see,
Just because the human ears cannot hear,
     People think these things can never be:
     I mean that their loved ones can be so near.

     Now Papa listen: There has never been
A day or an hour when you thought of me,
     Nor a time when your tears would come, nor when
You wondered “how tall would baby now be”?

     Nor a lonesome time nor a time of pain,
Nor when you gazed on the hills and the sky
     And thought it all over and over again—
Nor when you went away by yourself to cry ;—

Nor when the sunset was crimson and gold
     And the wonderful hush of the twilight came,
     And your heart could no more beauty hold,
No time when I was not with you the same.

     When other things and efforts have been
And you thought to conquer a worldly place,
     Why Papa, I was there just in between
You and those things—just hiding my face.

     And down, down deep in your very heart
You know how I in my spirit grow,
     How I make you of my life a part
     Yes, many more things in spirit you know.

     If I could not make you understand
     Then I would kiss you, and you would feel
     That I touched you somehow—not with my hand—--
And more tears down your dear face would steal.

     But Papa, the time will not seem long—
For years do not count in our world you know—
And I will be with you and sing my song
     When the time comes—often I’ve told you so.

     Just think of me in my golden bower,
Made of your thoughts, bedewed with your tears,
     And know that all of my love-power -
Is helping you over the bridge of the years.

     And now Mamma, listen: You always think
When violet-time comes and when the daisies grow
     And the baby faced pansies wink and blink
Telling the secrets we used to know,

     When along the country road you drive,
You and Papa, and see the May-weed bright,
     And you think “I wonder if she were alive”—
“She is”—you would think “Our hearts dear delight”

     And when all the birds sang—My birds you know—
My Robins and Bluebirds and Orioles bright—
You knew I was hearing them, I told you so,
     And you could just feel me hugging you tight.

     And Mamma, you never have whispered to me
“In your thinks,” as Ouina has always said,
     That I haven't been right there to see
Your thoughts,—no need to speak them instead.

     And Mamma, I know when you have been sad—
Thinking “Oh, if she had not gone so soon”—
And then you would cry—but try to be glad
     And remember with each returning June

     “Now we will be cheerful and do our part
As she is doing hers ‘over there,’ “—
And you'd sing a little and keep your heart
     After that, more tranquil: Yes, every-where

     I have been and am with you just the same
And I love you both, you understand;
     And when you think or speak my name
I answer: it is Love's own command;

     When you are busy—and many cares
Oppress, and sometimes you see not the way,
     I glide close beside you and unawares
You find all the shadows have melted away.

     But there are some things you both would know,
What I have been doing all this long time;
     I only had a few years to grow
     In the Earth-form—to love you and to climb
     On your knees and kiss you and make you do
Just the things I wanted--—yes, both of you.

     Now what am I doing? Oh, growing still,
And loving you; teaching you in spirit so
     That when you come—as you surely will—
You will understand how spirits grow.

     First were those of “our meeting” who came:
     “Aunty Sill,” “Grandpa Daley” and all the rest—
And Grandma—I cannot write every name
     But I had to meet them; each was my guest.

     And when “Grandpa Daley” said—as you know—
“The scales have fallen away from my eyes,”
     He saw ‘twas all true, we’d told him so;
Yet wasn’t it such a joyful surprise?

     And “Aunty Sill” was quite stubborn you know,
She really wouldn’t own things that she knew
     And when in spirit I met her, oh; oh!
I couldn’t describe what she wanted to do.

     I had to show them the best way to think,
So they can do things the way spirits do,
     And not be afraid—never falter nor shrink
From carrying every good purpose through.

     I was placed in charge by Ouina at first,
Of those “Bad Boys” whom no one can love.
     They sent them to me—Yes, the very worst
For that is the best way our-teaching to prove.

     Do you know I found the very first day?
(Ouina had taught me you understand),
     To make them think of a better way
     By loving them—not by a word or command.

     You see it is this way in our state:
     If one thinks to do wrong to another here
Or if we believe we some one hate
     That forms our own dense atmosphere.

     The “bad boy” throws a stone on earth
And it hits a little child or a bird;
     But here he soon finds what that is worth,
For it returns to him.; an angry word

     Comes back like an echo among the hills,
A thousand voices to him who sends,
     But here no stone or word another kills
And this is the meaning our lesson lends.

     And if we send love on and on it goes,
In widening circles returning again;
     Opening ever like a wondrous Rose
That never fades and bears no thorn or stain.

     I do not always know when I teach,
Nor always know when they’re teaching me;
     We do not stand on tiptoe to reach
This or that “grade” or some high “degree.”

     The teachers are friends who understand
What we need, and we think and work together,
     Then we grow to Truth’s command
And they do not ask the “why” or “whether?”

     As the buttercups and daisies grow
By loving and looking at the sun;
     As lilies and roses seem to know
When their lesson of blooming is “well done.”

     I often think the children of Earth
     Could in the end better possess
     The knowledge that is of real worth
     If they could always themselves express.

     Just shine upon them with love, I mean
And answer their questions, if you could,
     Cover up the Task, not have it seen,
     And not keep telling them to “be good.”

     And let them work and help to do
     The things that are needed every day;
     Knowledge will come and wisdom too
If too much “learning” isn’t in the way.

     Our work and play are ever one;
     And we are learning all the while;
     We plant our seeds of life in love’s sun
And they grow forever beneath its smile.

     We feel and think and do and then
     Whatever blossoms or verdure fair
     Or hills and valleys or sunsets; when
     We work in love we find them there.

     Sometimes when we plant a seed of love
In a human heart upon the earth
     It seems a fallow field, but we prove
By loving and waiting that it springs to birth;

     Sometimes it is only a day or an hour,
Sometimes it is a year or ten
     And we behold the precious flower
To ever gladden the hearts of men.

     Sometimes we plant a seed of Truth,
And it falls in a life of selfishness
     We follow it through pain and ruth
Wherever the devious footsteps press,

     And when the lesson of suffering
Has wrought the life into better mood,
     Our seed of truth will then upspring
And deeds will blossom there of good.

     We each one have some lives to reach,
We all can touch some chords of love,
     We know that what we are we teach.
Far more than what we try to prove.

     The girls and boys in spirit land
     Are often wiser than parents are;
     Of course all this you understand,
     The two states are not so very far:

     It all seems just one life to me,
     Only people in your world expect to hear;
Instead of thinking, they want to see;
     If they did our world would not seem so near.

     You do not want me to tell you dears
That we do things the same as they do on earth;
     That we have just the same hopes and fears;
We must have the things of this added birth.

     The Teachers say we are nearer the Cause
And can perceive the things more true
     And real,—that instead of “laws”
     The Law—Giving Power is nearer our view.

     Papa you used to laugh and shout
     When the preachers talked of the “harps of gold”
And were singing songs forever about
     The same “old story” that never was told.

     But let me tell you something for all;
Spirits are not suspended in the air
     Just waiting and watching if you should fall
To pick you up-—they know a  need or prayer

     Anytime and in an instant respond,
     But being held over you as if by a wire
Just to watch you—why it would be a bond
     Worse I think, dear papa, then a little—fire

     We are busy—-and part of our business is
When you need us to answer, we are “ever near”
     But it means just this—and only this:
     In our world there’s no meaning to “there” and to “here”

     Time is not long, and we are not far,
A thousand years may seem as one;
     You know, dear papa and mamma, a star
Does not count much beside the sun,

     And compared to all the suns in space;
But we take one step at a time you see
     And this, as far as I can trace,
     Brings me always to you and you to me.

     How we would laugh and clap our hands
If some bright morning you went to see
     The sunrise, and over the bogs and sands
You walked straight out to morning and me;

     Or if you took a walk at twilight
     And saw the stars so near you come
     Bordering, like daisy blossoms of light,
The pathway leading to my home;

     Or if you climbed the purple hills
     Across the vallies,—dewy-sweet
     And there among the dancing rills
     We suddenly should “chance” to meet;

     Or slipping through the door of sleep
Glide softy to the world of dreams,
     Where guardian Angels ever keep
     Their watch, and where it always seems

     You would dream the sweetest dreams of me
And all my life in that dreaming trace
     Then dream you were awake and see
Me, Meeting me thus face to face!

     All this will be and is most true
     And more, could I write on and on,
And into all our beings pour
     The light that shines my life upon.

     The light that is my life above.
     The blessing of loving both of you;
But Mamma and Papa, I need not prove
     That I am working and loving with you

     Ever in the light of our perfect love;
And when you come over the bridge of dreams
     You will see how easily I can prove
This the real and yours only the world that seems.

     To PAULINE.

     Darling sister when you came I was glad
For we had talked it all over dear
     In our spirit home—when they were sad
They wanted a daughter to love and to cheer

     Not one to take my place you know
     But your own place, you understand,
Just to love you and see you grow,
     And I could take your little hand.

     And I could teach you in your play,
     (And you could come, dear, in your sleep),
And I could guard you day by day,
     And many lessons for you could keep.

     Until you could their meaning know,
Such things as spirits better see
     Waiting for you till you might grow
To understand; till the mind could be

     I’ve know” it all the white Pauline,
How you, my sister, loved to hear
     About me—wondering between
     All that was said—why I seemed so near?

     It was as if you had seen me too,
     And we had loved in the body there,
This was because I came to you
     And in your dreams and every-where

     We laughed and played, and when you woke
The music of it lingered still
     And part of it like an echo broke
     Along the day, as the sun on a rill.

     If you had come when I was there
I would have claimed you for my own,
     And ‘tended you with greatest care
And never have left you once alone.

     Just the same I watched you
then From out my little bower of love,
     And I sung to you each moment
when You needed me my care to prove.

     Whenever you have thought of me
     Looking at my picture, dear heart,
     I would draw nearer and could see
     The loving thoughts, and the tears that would start.

     Your tears of sympathy are as gems,
Your sweet nature is a garden of flowers,
     Jewels fitted for spirit diadems,
     Blossoms that deck immortal bowers.

     And I have watched you grow and grow;
And you have loved them every day—
Papa and Mamma, and your smile, you know
     Has chased many of their tears away.

     You have been such a living joy,
     So calm and cheerful, and so sweet;
     I was more turbulent, like a boy,
     Two natures seemed in me to meet.

     But I’ve grown with you, side by side,
You in your body, I unseen,
     And whatsoever might betide
     No one should think “she might have been”—

     Meaning, my dear, as tall as you
“Perhaps taller if she had stayed;”
     What makes that if always come between
People and things just as they are made?

     All is intended for the best
     And it was wise that I should come
     Into this world and join its quest—-
     And they have us both in hearts and home.

     A little window in your heart
     If forever opening dear, for me;
     Roses and clambering vines impart
     Sweet fragrance—perhaps you do not see—

But I have planted them to show
     Which is my window—do not start,
For one there is as I well know
     Who has a right to a larger part— -

     Sit down beside me on my bank
Of buttercups and blooming clover,
     And I will weave you a Daisy chain,
While you tell me all about your lover ;—

     I know it now—yes so I do;
     But we never listen—and you can tell
All, or much, or little, for you
     Know your spirit sister far too well

     To think that she would wish to hear
The sacred things —you understand,
     And if you only sit quite near,
     We will not talk—I’ll take your hand.

     And we will dream, and dream, and dream,
As the humming birds go swiftly by
     And then we’ll laugh and it will seem
“We’ve had such a sweet talk”——you and I.

     I will twine for you a Bridal Wreath
     And a veil, of gossamer, Pauline dear,
And ring the Lily Bells of Joy,
     And I bless you darling, never fear.

     Between us ever a cord of love,
     Will still unite us more and more,
     And a benediction where e’er you move
I will ever upon your being pour.


Book Mark .ARCHIVES PAGE.For On-Line Archival Literature By Cora L.V. Richmond

Book Mark The Home Page:

CORA L.V. Scott Hatch Tappan RICHMOND 
1840 - 1923

:  You May  Print Out Any Of  Cora's  Literature For


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