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Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the methdd: Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE ", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filmd A partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■^ 1 POEMS GRAVE AND GAY BY ALBERT E. S. SMYTHE TORONTO : IMRIE & GRAHAM, 26 & 28 CoLUORNE St. I89I. 2056 Kntered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one thous^and ei^rht hundred and ninety-one, by Albkrt Ernkst Staffori) Smytiir, in the Offlce of the Minister of Aj;ricuUure, Ottawa. CONTENTS. KkONTlSI'IECK table of contknts aitthor's note .. Ill vi MISCELLANEOUS. FLOWERS KOSES SONG OF A WORKER AN OLD CASTLE .. LOUGH SWILLY NIGHT IN MAY . . IN JUNE RONDEAU . . MARION WORDS BY THE WAY BALLADE MAUD JANUARY VIOLETS .. BIRTHDAY TRIOLETS MARY STUART MY WITCH-WOOD QUEEN LILIES : — I. THE CALLA LILY II. THE TIGER LILY III. THE WATER LILY IV. THE LILY OF THE VALLEY WAITING THE OLD WALTZ EVA • • • « . . 9 .. 14 17 .. 20 22 . . 24 • . 25 . • . • 26 27 .. 29 30 . . 32 35 • • . . 36 • • 37 • a , , 38 • • 40 • . 41 • 42 . • 43 • 44 • . t • 46 • • • . . 48 iv I.OVK LANE 49 life's fairy tale .. •• 51 ASIMRATIOWS 52 DARK EYES .. 54 love's confidence 56 llETKOTIIAI •• 57 MARRIAGE MORNING 58 AMY •• 59 OUR MAY QUEEN 60 DREAM SONG . . • • • . ... .. 61 DREAMS 63 COUPLETS .. 64 KISSES 65 WHO REMEMBERS? . . • .. 66 SEASONS 68 MREEZE AND BLOSSOM .. 69 A FORSAKEN NEST 70 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 71 EVANGELINE 72 MY LADY COQUETTE •• 73 THE CASHIER 75 TRIBUTARY .. 76 A HAWTHORN BLOSSOM 78 MAY BLOSSOMS .. 80 ODD AND EVEN .. . 82 THE FIRST WORD .. 84 BOH AND THE STARS 86 PAUPER AND PUP .. 88 THE SPECTRE 90 LILIES OF THE NIGHT • 92 A CHRISTMAS CAROL 93 A GREETING .. 94 IN THE TWILIGHT 96 ELEGIACS. DEDICATORY THE ROSE ONE 98 99 lOI HER GRAVE KDITII'S GRAVE • • • • IAI>IN(> JESSIE " GOODHVE, MY WIFE " I'RIMROSE DAY IN MEMORIAM. — LEOPOLD • • • • • * • « 102 103 104 105 107 109 III SONNETS. THE FORGOTTEN POET NIGHT IN MAY TO A LADY EDITH LOVE BEREAVED DEATH, THE REVEALER AN APPEAL TO HER WHOM IT MAY CONCERN THE LUNAR RAINBOW EVENING LARK SONG AN ACTRESS A PUBLIC READER OF AGE AND LOVE .. A FACE AND A FANCY . . IN THE NIGHT WATCH THE SLAUGHTER OF AGAG IN RECOGNITION TO CERTAIN MERCHANTS IN TORONTO A CITY minstrel's MUSIC A BONNET 112 . . 24 •• 113 • • ■ • U4 • ■ IIS • • • • 116 .. 117 . . 118 .. 119 • • • • 120 .. 121 • • • • 122 •• 123 • • • • 124 .. 125 . • 126 .. 127 " • • • 128 . . 129 • • • • 130 HUMOROUS. SPARROWS KATE BERRY IN LODGINGS LADY MYRTLE DANCED A WALTZ AN EMPIY PROGRAMME CUPID AND CUPIDITY .. ni 136 138 141 143 ▼i TKIOI.KT A CHRISTMAS CAKI) HAHY NKW YKAR A jAMIAKY THAW N AI.ENTINK I ATK, IHK MILKMAN .. KYR WISDOM . , ONE op- THR I.KFT TO HRAUTY ASI.RKP AMONG LILIRS . 146 '47 . 148 • • '50 • '52 '54 • '55 '56 . 158 PEANUT BALLADS. I. THE PEANUT STAND H. THE PEANUT WRDDINO III. A PRANUT LEGEND IV. PEANUT MEMORIES V." A PEANUT ROMANCE '59 '63 168 I7S 180 AUTHOR'S NOTE. In the autumn of '82 the writer first discoi'ered himself in the columns of a leadint^ London journal, Hy permission of the proprietors of the ' ' Graphic " his contri- Inttion reappears on pa};;e 4S. Perhaps nothfig that a stern critic might say could evoke chagrin \ lal .'. tha* jelt on learning tf at certain friends and acquaintanr ' had escaped hearing of the occurrence ; atui perhaps no lenient revieiver could give more pleasure than the congratulation of those who had been more alert. Nine years since (hen of hard^ working commercial life in Belfast^ in Chicago., in Edin- burgh., and in Toronto might indeed have dulled one's iusceptibilities., but as enough spare time has been found for the planning and penning of these P 28 I do not murmur, Marion, These lonely nights and days, There is but one companion For all the wide world's ways. You could not know I coveted To call you by 3 our name, Your beauty called me craven And put my love to shame. And you did not stoop, sweet Marion, With favour in your eyes, But evermore your courtesy Was kindly, worldly wise. Ah ! how could I approach thee With no good gift to give, But a law of self-denial Appointed me to live ? Four thousand miles, fair Marion, Make not the distance more ; The distance could not greater be That sundered us before. Not that I yield in honour To the worthiest that be, But the best of all, Mavoumeen, Were undeserving thee. r. 20 WORDS B Y THE WA Y, My love, I have no great Wise song to sing you ; No vow to consecrate, Nor pledge to bring you ; No honour high and rare That might renown you ; No fortune fine and fair ; No crown to crown you. Only, Mavourneen, a pilgrim forever. Roaming the world, winning happiness never. Still would I keep thee — ah ! smile if thou hearest, Deep in my heart with a love-bond the dearest. Had you been desolate And unbefriended, Our ways might wayward Fate . And Love have blended. But Life has drawn you, sweet, By paths undarkened ; I pass your happy feet With words unhearkened. Only, Mavourneen, a pilgrim forever, Koaming the world, winning happiness never, Still would I keep thee — ah ! smile if thou hearest, Deep in my heart with a love-bond the dearest. ; - :, ■^^M;. 80 BALLADE WITH A BOX OF DAFFODILS. Of all the flowers that creep or cling Or rear a spike, or spread a cyme, Scattered afield, or blossoming Lake-lily -like from mud and slime : That suck their life from builded lime Or wreathe upon the verdured hills Young April's artless anadyme None are more sweet than da£fodils. No garden ever pleased a king From Lilliput to Jotunheim That did not bear the flowers I bring ; As asphodels of halcyon clime • Fresh gathered from the meads sublime Take them, and if your fancy wills Their sweetness passes Eden's prime — You are more sweet than daflbdils. I would that I my heart might fling In love's poetic pantomime Before you as a paltry thing, Yet, like these flowers, unsmlrched with grime, But gallant with a golden rime — The dust of love — each thought that thrills To passion — ah ! forgive the crime You sweeter than all daflbdils. 31 ENVOI. Marion, when flattery's loud-voiced chime Too soon life's early music kills, Think who, long ere the summer-time, Knew thee more sweet than daffodils. i ' V if >■; 'li^m i ■ '.f-^' i^ t; I ■'■ 82 ii MA [/D, On the Firth of Forth in summer, with the weather warm and clear, Strangers down at Portobello, strolling idly on the pier. Should ignore each other totally in theory, but in fact One's fancies grow to substance and subdue one like an act; And though person, place, and period may be trivial, we confess Thei. ■1 , 1 44 WAITING. * Who knows my own true lover dwells Beyond the summer dawn, Where all the thrilling, chilling spells That make the winter wan Are powerless in the light that throws A riper ruby o'er the rose ? Who knows my own true lover bides In that bright summer land Where silent time and silver tides Creep over soul and sand, For ever soothing, smoothing each, The bosom gently and the beach ? Who knows my own true lover lives In such a sunny scene That eager spring-time hardly gives The autumn space to glean, And careless in the close pursuit The sower tramples on the fruit ? Who knows my own true lover strays On shores of happiness, Whex'e nature decks the dullest days In some enchanting dress, And puts her fairest fashion on To tempt the swallow and the swan ? Who knows my own true lover waits To welcome me to bliss ; There, all achieved that separates To share it with a kiss ; Who knows how soon the darling hour Will measure out the marriage dower ? Who knows save only I and he — No mortal else beside ? And when men ask how this may be A riddle is replied ; Three signs are set to seal this thing — A flower, a song, a bird's white wing ! ! I; h i' 40 ; ' THE OLD WALTZ Alone in the parlour, alone in the gloom, With only the moonlight to look in the room, I waken a waltz from the old yellow keys Of an old mellow Broadwood of old melodies. I linger and finger the music an hour For the sake of the someone who liked it of old, And the music is strong with a pitiful power, And sombre with secrets that used to be told. The secrets are mute, thougli the music remains All trembling and stirring with dreamy refrains. Alone in the parlour, alone for so long That love nearly tires of the sorrowful song ; And nothing has changed but the wearisome years. And nothing is sure but the shedding of tears. And nothing has happened for time out of mind. And nobody vexes, for nobody knows. And hearts that were bruised are consoled and re- signed, Though one heart dreams ever on all the old woes The woes that were joys ere the tale was complete, A the music is saddened that sounded so sweet. 47 Alone ill the parlour, for ever alone, And the lo\e-music dies in a low minor tone. I cover my face in a passion of grief But only the tears ever come for relief. For the words that would solace forever are stilled, The lips that would comfort have breathed their last sigh, The wish that would cheer me can never be willed, And all I remember is bidding good-bye. And all that I learn is the lesson that lies In the tones of a waltz, and the grief that replies. !i,1 •i 4i -16 1:1 I it'l lii j E VA, High, high, in the westerly sky Lingers tlie day as I linger by thee ; Slow, slow, from the darkness below Creeps the night over the brim of the sea. Soft, soft, to the sea-birds aloft, Whisper the waters that toss on the shore, Rare, rare, from the mermaidens' hair, Scattered and sparkling, the jewels they wore. Far, far, there is shining a star Pure as the beacon a seraph would burn, Clear, clear, that poor wanderers here, Seeing it lead them, a pathway might learn. Soon, soon, will the silvery moon Glow through a glory of luminous mist. Pale, pale, in her vaporous veil, Down on the flowers that look up to be kissed. Then., then, when the children of men Seal up their souls with a slumbering spell. Sweet, sweet — and till morn when we meet Angels will cfuard thee and comfort thee well. !i \ 4!) ' I : LOVE LANE. " WILL you wear a nosegay If I should pluck the flowers, And will it be the dearer In four-and-twenty hours ?" " Yes, I will wear your nosegay A day upon my breast, And then among my treasures A life-time it will rest." They have an old enchantment Of scents that never wane. And posies are the sweetest From Love Lane. ■t " O will you sing a song, love, With magic words of mine. Of prayer, and praise, and pleasure, The olive and the vine ? " " Yes, I will sing your song, love,*^ And never may they cease, The prayer, the praise, and pleasure. The plenty and the peace." It has an old enchantment The song with that refrain, But still it sounds the clearer Down Love Lane. !•• i 50 " will you walk with nie, love, Low carolling my song, And wear my nosegay emblem, And dare to love me long ? " " Yes, I will walk with you, love, Forever and a day. The flowers will help to brighten, The song will cheer the way." And 'tis the old enchantment. The story told again, For all the world must wander Through Love Lane. in •I bi I i»t ' 1 LIFE'S FAIRY TALE. Ouil lives are like our fairy tales With wicked plots anrl heroes real, Yet farther fetched the image fails, Our loves and beauties are ideal. But false or true we still love on, The dearer often when the vainer ; And he that loves when hope is gone I do esteem to he the gainer. Our purest love is spent in vain, Unselfish, suffering, true for ever ; Its bitter unrewarded pain Is cleansing fire for all endeavour. It tries all virtues — t(j be kind, The cares one can to spare one's neighbour, To prove it is the happiest mind That makes the common good its labour ; And life's attainments so refined Are finished like the fairy morals. And all our heroes are assigned, " For ever after," happy laurels. ■J' \ j Hfl i-i % r I ! I i 52 A SPIRA TIONS. I KNOW no love but her my dreams behold And she is fairest by a hundred fold, And we shall meet before the years are told. They say she will not come — she is too - e — That fate will not embody one so fair To be a mortal, for a mortal's prayer. One answers, whatsoever ye require In praying, think ye have what^e desi?'e. And 'twill be granted as thy prayers col spire. But if she came not, could I cease to dreri-m ? 'Tis better with its love and faith supreme, Its dignity, than life of lower scheme. My daily thoughts do not more aptly taint Beneath the guiding influence of a saint Whose character my best perceptions paint. My work is none the worse that one stands by Inscrutably, to prompt the erring eye And wandering hand to fruitful industry. The pen as freely marks the meaning line, The digits still as rapidly combine As when my dearest thought was less divine. , 'T- ( L 68 My dearest thought ! — that daily grows more dear That daily challenges a higher peer, And daily seeks a more exalted sphere. Whose service still must win my steps along, Abashed at last the loftiest bards among Where weakest music is a seraph-song. Ah ! love, while thus in dreams I seek delight Thyself mayst walk at hand and through the night To make the morning lovely in my sight. Even as I stretch my hand and lisp some word, ^The dark may lighten, and my dreams be stirred. True life, true love, begin ; my prayers be heard. ft'L i.,r "I; t .1 54 DARK EYES. DEAR dark eyes ! fresh wells of welcome truth, Set in a desert world of fraud, If I might gaze till thirstless, then, in sooth, I'd over look and laud. How oft the coaxing glitter of grey eyes And blue and hazel lured me on • To trouble me, too simple to surmise That but a mirage shone. What bitter pledges have I often quaffed From pure-appearing wells of wile, Blaming myself for sourness in the drauglit Believing eyes that smile And always smile were always good and true. Until I knew the sometimes sad Grave eyes are truest, best, and rarest too. When guileful hearts look glad Through fascinating eyes, who is deceived Finds hid beneath the cliarming cheat Sourness more sour, since cunningly bereaved Of some expected sweet. 55 But thoHo (lark eyes of thine ^vill ne'er delude : They say what is, or well or ill ; Their pleasure swells communicated good, Their graveness, with a thrill Of sympathy, imparts a fated care So kindly, half the pain is spared, For in their depths one sees one does not bear The bitterness unshared. O love of mine ! if earth should lose her light, And hope be quenched, and sin seem wise. Then would I look, while all around was night. On heaven, through thy dark eyes. r E-- Ml: V ■ r .^i CO LOVES CONFIDENCE, What fault could be so heinous, What word give Love annoyance, That wrath should over-reign us And wrest away Love's joyance ? Though fortune over-shine us. Though fate forego her promise, What chance can unent\i ine us, Or take Love's bounty from us ? We shall be wise, and careful To turn from Folly's boothful ; Our love will make us prayerful. And prayer will make us truthful. For truth is Love's ambition, And you and I have weighed it ; And prayer is Love's petition And you and I have made it. 1 i 57 BETROTHAL. V 'I. '■*. The words of love are spoken, The silver silence broken, The troth-plight made, Love wears the golden token. Fulfilment cometh later — True love's a patient waiter ; Life, — death — are true, and self the only traitor There is no fear in waiting Of peace and joy abating ; Love knows ; a prophet — Love — premeditating When faith can follow fable, Can suffer and be stable, Love — knowing truth — is Love unfit, unable ? Go, mark the stars in heaven, One over-ruling seven, Far-shining see them, dim, dull, dark, death-riven. With ever-varying glory They lighten earth's long story, But Love will see them change and Time grow hoary. God's children's hearts are deeper Than dreams that vex a sleeper, Th^se human things are treasures to their Keeper. '^'■| »i 53 MARRIAGE MORNING. One sunniest morn amon^ youth's sunny clays When all the light ol: life — like that which passed The eastern panes, and tinted glories cast — Was summerhued for me with rainbow rays. One happiest hour in all the hours I've knelt And prayed for happiness. All sorrow-pain That ever saddened me returned in vain : Life's burden fell when love unloosed the belt. The holiest time in church I ever spent ; Not there to rest awhile and idly think Or dream, but every word with thought to link, For love was crowned in that new sacrament. The brightest, happiest, holiest time of life, God-graced, and gifted with the smiles of earth ; A sweet occasion for the spousal birth Of boy and maiden into man and wife ! n' 50 m A M V. I WAS a little lonely maid And shyly timid, much afraid, All my world was bare, but the castled air Long years ago. At last there came the handsome youth, My fairy prince in fancied truth, But his plighted troth made a broken oath Long years ago. I could not think he would deceive, And greatly, gravely did I grieve. Yet forgave the lies of his false bright eyes Long years ago. Another lover claimed my hand, And bound me with the golden band. By my wedding ring he's my fairy king Since years ago. liSJ t' GO OUR MA V QUEEN. . Our May Queen is one for the children — She leads them nor needs to compel ; " She is kind," they say, " is our sister ;" Ah ! that is a sovereign spell. Our May Queen is one for the lovers They are faithful and never rebel ; They look, they are subjects, they whisper " Her charm is a beauty spell ! " Our May Queen is one for the elders — They smile and they say — " It is well ; We reigned or we worshipped like this once When Time's was a powerless spell." Our May Queen is queen over many. The reason is easy to tell ; One learns with a little service She rules with a loving spell. 01 DREAM SONG. * My spirit on wings that were strong Peeped at Luella's pane, While the light of the host of the stars Fell in a golden rain. My soul, with the scintillant stars Peered in the dusky room, At the dreams, in a fanciful throng Filling the failing gloom. My soul, like a fluttering dove. Beat at the dew-dim pane ; Ah, my spirit was suifering love Wooing in vain, in vain, Benightedly there by her nest Cooing a tender strain. While its mate in her maidenly rest Slumbered and dreamed again. My soul as a butterfly may Floated with tiny grace Through the zephyrous breath of her sighs Over her fair fresh face, And timidly passing her eyes, Resting on brow, on lips, On her bosom it trembled and lay Light as her finger-tips. m\ '!* > i ! '" 02 Till caltnly the ^od of the day Rose with th(.' eastern beams Of the colours that earliest play, Dawning with curious gleams ; And back to my wakening will Hurried my soul, it seems, But at rioon and at eve it was still Dreaming these morning dreams. 08 DREAMS, There are songs that sound in the silence - Tones from an angel-sphere Whose harmony comes to beguile hence Souls whom the saints hold dear. There are smiles that lighten the midnight Hours of the heart's unrest With beautiful rays tliat bid night Cease to be all unblest. But the songs and the smiles are only Born of a poor worn brain, Whose morning is far more lonely Dreaming its dreams again. ii r f i' :l I 64 COUPLETS, One thouglit— two words and so the lines are lengthened, And loving souls receiving them are strength- ened. One love— two lives— that join together dearly, While clefted heaven sheds its rays more clearly. One soul— two worlds— till dying makes a single, And all beatitudes forever mingle. 65 /assEs. I ' Kisses once were holy, Lips that gave them, chaste. Lovers once were lowly Airs respectful graced. Kisses now are common, Lovers true are rare , • . Those who kiss a woman Only get a share. Once we kissed the lasses For the lasses' sake, Now we kiss for kisses — How the girls mistake ! i i 't ! 1 j v i i. i 1 i ■' 06 WHO REMEMBERS? Ah ! who remembers The cinders lying The whitened embers The few sparks flying That soon expire When burning brightly The next morn lightly The flames leap higher From the new fire ? Who will remember The frosty, snowy, Decayed December That, wild and blowy, Undid the year, When fresh and flowery And summer-showery With days blue clear June joins us here ? Ah 1 who remembers The absent faces, And who remembers The careworn traces Of tears wiped dry, tl7 When pain departed And happy hearted For hours that fly New friends come by ? These in their season Have spent their treasure Have had their reason And wrought their measui And lived their day : New words but bring us What old songs sing us And youth grows gray The old, old way. ' - J!'*"' i' ,1"^ ■ C8 SEASONS. Spring flowers, spring flowers, for life's young hours Of budding promise, thriving powers ; When youth's warm heart with heaven-bom reason Unfolds like flowers that know their season. Full corn, full corn, let that adorn The manly hours beyond the morn ; The thne was long, but now the reaping, And time stays yet before the sleeping. Blown leaves, blown leaves, brown autumn weaves In garlands for the trophied sheaves ; Old triumphs through young lives are thrilling, While dead leaves fall new buds are fillinr:. Bare boughs, bare boughs, let hope espouse The dead bride-heart of broken vows ; Grim winter locks the life-tide fast, Till breaks the new far dawn at last. BREEZE AND BLOSSOM, Where do all the breezes blow ? I know, I know ; Sweeping over summer seas, Sighing through the forest trees, Flying over meadow leas, That is where they blow. Where do all the blossoms blow ? I know, I know ; Sweet in sunshine, fresh in rain, In the woodland, on the plain, In the garden and the lane, That is where they blow. Where should breeze and blossom blow ? I know, I know ; Those should blow and these should bloom, Bearing fragrance, chasing gloom. From the sickly city room — Home of want and woe 1 i ' ' ''I l! 1 i 1 .:' 1 ■! ' i i ; 1 1 'X \ ';^ ' \ ii .— 1 70 A FORSAKEN NEST. When birds with busy beaks their nests were build- ing Love found a nest prepared— Love found my heart I gave him place— to Love who is not yielding When sheltering Love is sharing Heaven's part ? When little birds were but half-clad with feathers And all their nests were full of nestlings' play, My life was full of glad sunshiny weathers, For growing Love within my heart made gay. When full fledged broods flew oH on wings ungrate- ful And lightly left deserted many a nest. Love left my heart, for Love was false, deceitful— Yet I may not upbraid— Love was my guest ! 71 GREAT EXPEC'IAIIONS. " A SHIP, a ship a-stiiling, A-sailing on the sea, Far wafted o'er the billows With precious things for me. It is laden, heavy laden, With a rare and costly freight. And it bears a royal maiden For whom I stand and wait." A heart, a heart a-hoping, A-hoping on the strand, And longing for the vessel That ne'er will reach the land. There are scenes as fair behind it As ever blessed the sight. But the hopes, the hopes that blind it Have stolen all the light. A life, a life a-wasting As ebb the tides and flow, 'Tis bitter, bitter tasting The hopes that turn to woe. Though a wreck has come for warning And lies upon the shore, It is late, too late, for scorning The hopes that cheer no more. P :«', 72 EVANGELINE, Evangeline ! Bvangeline ! The dewy morn in June That startled first those eyes of thine From out their baby swoon, Gave all the brightest summer shine Beyond the light of gem or wine, To make their radiant spheres combine The sun and stars and moon. 'Tis thus thine eyes are always bright With lustre liquid-deep. And blended there appears the light Of autumn eves that creep, And summer noon, and winter night And showery spring-time at its height, To witch the dreams or wile the sight As one may wake or sleep. And love, ignoring tide and time, Can reckon by thine eyes, And call it morning's choicest prime When their long lashes rise; A noonday in the tropic clime To feel them bend their light sublime. And eve, while village vespers chime, To see them grave and wise. 78 AfV LADY COQUETTE. A SUITOR came to a lady bright And wooed her on bended knee ; " I have honour and worth and a brave man's miglit, And love and a life for thee." She spoke him soft, and she smiled him smiles, And gave him her flower to wear, And sent him a quest of weary miles. And named his name in her prayer. '^ Till he said at last, " Sweetheart, sweetheart, I have followed thee long and well. And the time has come when we shall not part Till the day of the tolling bell." " I am sorry, my knight," the sweet voice said, " You have failed to understand Our friendship was not of a kind to wed And another has won my hand." Her lover laughed such a bitter laugh She almost feared she was wrong, And wondered a moment of grain and chaff Was the difference very strong. 74 But he thought " What pity the queen I chose For the castle I built in Spain, Was the poorest creature the whole world knows, The vainest of all things vain." 7t .:i'. THE CASHIER. A HEAP of gold and silver coin up-pilinp For a duty, sat the woman of my vow ; Madonna eyes, and lips relaxed in smiling, The quiet law of peace upon her brow ; Where worldly feet went back and forward tiling, The world's lily grew beside the slough. Must the crowning years in custom and in payment- The priceless — all be lavished there unprized, And the pure fame so rich beyond all raiment Be worn where the vesture is despised ? Must the world, then, remain the victor-claimant For the fair sweet guerdon God devised ? our Father, is it selfish, is it silly. To pray Thee for a portion of Thy best ? My pathway is companionless and hilly, I falter, I am weary and depressed ; .There is comfort where it grows, in Thy lily, There were strength were it laid upon my breast. r.; ' 76 TRIBUTARY. Outliving all the hopes my youth confessed, Still toiling on, still vainly seeking rest, A world-worn stone that never gathered moss, Not worn enough to wear away the dross ; Unmoved by love or hate, delight or fear, Too sad to laugh, too careless for a tear ; I deemed myself the cynic that I seemed. And passionless as though I slept and dreamed. But music reawakened in my mind Emotions I forgot had been confined. Revived the kindliness of faded youth. And taught my old deceits an older truth. Among a crowd of working poor one night That filled a hall with easily won delight, I listened, with ungratified disdain. To song and speech and song and speech again ; At last succeeding some dull-souled harangue, A maiden sang, and made me glad she sang. Of all new memories that is most dear ; Like some fresh bird- voice in the dying year. The tones recalled the voice of one I knew When Time's white wintry rime was summer dew And e'en the vision of the girl's clear eyes Recalled the dreams I once thought destinies. / 1 Like spirit lures her Beauty and her Song Ruled each a sense and led my soul along, While Reverence for the higher Wisdom sprang To second birth within me as she sang : Lovely flowers oft grow among wild weeds Unmarked in living and unmissed in dying ; Lovely flowers, unminded, though man needs A Heaven of beauty to assuage his sighing. Lovely lives in lowliness are spent And no man spares a thought about the spending ; Lovely ones, though man be negligent. Live on, work on, God's wish awaits your tending ! Consciousness of having done its part Without a wasted moment's indecision. Sweetly solaces the weary heart That waits the waking from this worldly vision. Little monuments of duty done Are raised by many labourers unregarded ; Brighter crowns in heaven are surely won By those whose work on earth is unrewarded. Thus closed the little lay she sang so well. Thus closes all of her I have to tell ; I never saw her more, but there's a place Within my heart all brightened by her face, And so I write these lines to her sweet grace. i ', :.\ 1 :. 78 A HAWTHORN BLOSSOM. I REMEMBER well I wished, and she also — my Mary, — If the thorn above us were fairy, That I were the king and she queen Of the elves of the thorn on the green — As the star fell. And then I can tell How I pulled two sprays of the flowers, One was hers, one was mine : they were ours. All the rest we left for the elves ; We only took those for ourselves As the star fell. Alas ! it befell The life of her spray and mine faded. And the scent was lost that had laded The air, and all died that was fair ! I grieve as I think when I dare How my star fell. Down into the dell To the hawthorn I often wander ; On the grass I kneel, and 1 ponder ; Does she reign as an elf- queen bright As she reigned in my heart that night When the star fell ? :r < 7U Will the mist dispel { May I look on the royal splendour That her fairy subjects lend her ? Shall we wish together again — Shall we wish together as then When the star fell ? Or will fate compel My lot to be always lonely. Remembering happiness only ? Will but half of our wish come true If I wish again need I rue That a star fell ? Tl 80 MA V BLOSSOMS. The girls of Greece made merry at the marriage in the May When the maiden bride was wedded 'mid the scent of hawthorn-spray, While the altar flamed with torches that had thick- ened on the thorn, And Athena condescended to approve the wedding- morn. I know an Irish maiden who was merry in the May, When we stood beneath the hawthorn on a flowery holiday. Our hearts were wedded silently, and wafted on the wind. Came love with all the favours he bestows when he is kind. The vows of our betrothal made the hawthorn tree a shrine, Where the birds, with bridal voices, sang their love and sang of mine ; Tlie odour of the blossoms made an incense in the place. And the sunbeams tln-ew their radiance on her sweet wee Irish face. 1 81 A bunch of valley-lilies hun^ like pearls upon her breast, And I held a blue-bell posy I had gathered from the rest; We mixed the pearly lilies and the blue-bells, and I know We mingled all our treasures, like the flowers, a year ago. f- frm 82 liiii ODD AND EVEN. A LADY went singing along by the sea, The lay of a lover she carolled with glee ; The ripples of melody born from her mouth Were wafted away on the wind to the south, To murmur the thought in a mariner's ear — " Though lovers be distant true love will be dear, Though lovers be parted true love will be near." The lady watched long where the water and sky Grew dim in the sundown and faint to the eye ; She thought " When the sky is so near to the sea Should I wonder he never comes homeward to me ? With cloud] and so near and the homeland so far 'Twere easy forgetting the life he might mar In forsaking the sea to go home to a star." The lady grew weary of pacir j; the sand, And weary to death of the waves on the strand ; Tlie marks on the beach were effaced by the tide, The hopes faded fainter on which she relied ; Yet watched she and waited a year and a day, While waxing how weary let lone lady say — Some lady grown weary of lover's delay. wr wH ' — W W * 83 She stooped as she stepped on the silvery sand And gathered the grains in her delicate hand. She spilled them with care and she marked how they rained, And reckoned the motes in her hand that remained. For one he would come, and for two he would stay, The third meant return, and the fourth spoke delay ; The last was the ninth and she cast it away. She turned her again, and she turned to her bower — Oh ! happy the omen, and gladsome the hour — Her lover was home, and her lover was here. Her head on his breast, and his voice in her ear ; "Oh! love it was long!" "Oh! my love, I had fear!" "Oh! love it was far!" "But we meet, we are near I" And love has forgotten the leagues and the year. m in 84 THE FIRS! WORD. An angel came And stood beside the cradle of a child And spoke its name : And near by lay the mother, sleep-beguiled, A little space to sorrow reconciled. His whisper woke The babe, who feared not at the gracious sight. And smiles outbroke Upon its infant face, and sweet and bright His answering smile made shining in the night. ( 1 Gently he took, As with a father's care, the fatherless. And let it look On her who lay in wid^jwed loneliness Half-happy in some dreamed-of, dead caress. * There he instilled In it the knowledge of her motherhood Forever filled With love, and care, and quick solicitude, Guarding from evil, guiding into good. t 85 And having trained The infant lips to voice that darling name That lives unstained Beyond all speech of blessing or of blame, He passed Kway in silence as he came. At break of day The babe awoke upon its mother's breast, And as it lay Called her that dearest name. And she confessed The Lord is God who makes affliction blessed. 86 BOB AND THE STARS. A VERSION. We went to the window, Bob and I, Someone declaring the night so fine, And v/atched the wonderful winter sky Sparkle with frosty stars and shine, And gleam, I thought, like the hugely high (>avern-roof of a jewel mine. Bob is a small philosopher ; I am the sire of the tender sage, And half expect him to make a stir Out in the world when he comes of age, Though as yet his infant character Only has reached the hopeful stage. Bobby has curious thoughts and wise. Some, like himself, could stand alone, Yet might, when they leave a father's eyes, Tumble down or be overthrown. For none can properly sympathise With thoughts or children not their own. 8? • Now this winter night in the starry light, Bob said a notable thing to me ; He asked, and his voice so low and slight Sounded somewhere about my knee, — " If the bottom of heaven looks so bright. Father, what must the inside be ? " « i 1, ,-( 'y •( I I i T. t-".. 88 Pi; PAUPER AND PUP, Tried and true, tried and true, Pup, stay near me, I've none but you. Years upon years of midnight days, Weary travel on flinty ways. Scorching sun and searching wind, Thunder — and lightning too, but I'm blind- Rain, and I hear the rich complain. Chide, as they pass, at the pouring rain. Snow and sleet on the heartless street, Cold and frost till one's heart is lost. Weather and want and endless woe, Sun and rain and wind and snow. That's our part of it. Pup, you know. True and tried, true and tried, Best of my friends since Betsy died. I am hungry and you are lean, Skin and bones and nothing between ; Skin and bones and nothing beside — That's how Betsy took bad and died. Ah ! you rogue, you know there's a bite To save your life in the bag to-night : A crust and a bone — well, it is fly-blown — And a mite for me for bread and tea. Then sleep for sauce with our bite and sup Cheers our nights in the straw, my Pup, Charity never has puffed us up. i!' Ti' r 60 Tried and true, tried and true, Pup, what's left on that bone to cliew ? True and tried, true and tried, Come and lie by your master's side, Take your share of the musty straw, Give me hold of your poor old paw. It seems to-night I could nearly think Betsy made me that tea to drink ; Old Sal brewed that, the cross-ton^ifued cat. She's off to bed and w'shing me dead, And we're bound too, to the land of Nod ; Scorned of men in the scheire of Go Q o I.I ^ lis 112.0 r-8 1.4 1.6 1.25 ^^ .^^ />^ /A 'W V Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WSST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 m \ ^q\' \\ ^ ^9) .V <<.■■ o^ «p ^■. <^ <'^'' 5" Va 'tT #j ^ ^/ , i/j » 00 THE SPECTRE. Along the passage, stepping light, She moves, half-settled, half-uncertain, And from the window views the night And clutches at the velvet curtain. The curtain with one hand she grasps, A missal in the other holding, And to her breast the book she clasps As watching some dark scene unfolding. The moonlight pales upon her cheeks. The star-light from her eyes is dying, She shades her eyes, and turning shrieks— " My God, the lawn, my Gerald lying." And would alarm the house, but fails And falls upon the floorway swooning. But piercing rise the dreadful wails — The doleful Banshee weirdly crooning. The master and the servant soon The prostrate maiden there discover, Outside, beneath the ghastly moon, The body lying of her lover. 01 For Gerald was her lover true, And still the people tell each other That Brian sought to win her too, And wrought this deed upon his brother. And Lady Kathleen pined and died For death unites what death has parted ; They say her spirit, like a bride, Walks calm and fair, not broken-hearted. ■:. i-'i 02 LILIES OF THE NIGHT. They grow about the city Very beautiful and bright, But the angels sigh for pity Of the lilies of the night. Among them some are stately, And some are frail and slight, But the angels pity greatly All the lilies of the night. For wantons come and tear them Where they grow for God's delight They wound, but will not wear them, So they wither in the night. And men are hard and trample On the fallen ones of night. Though the sacred sweet Example Did not turn away or smite. Father, in great compassion. Look from Thy throne of light ; Thou lovest Who didst fashion The lilies of the night. t.tr.,'V> 98 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. \b^ Flinu forth, O stars, on Christmas night Your radiance from the shining height ; And borrow from the Wondrous Star The light that led the Wise Men far. Behold, ye Magi, in the skies The glorious company arise, Nor let such splendour, vainly bright, Be wasted on the sightless night. And watch, ye shepherds, on the plain. Attending each your pastoral train, Till heaven's glory, once revealed. Invades again the midnight field. As when the sudden angel throng Appearing, sang the immortal song — " To God the highest glory still, On earth, to righteous men, goodwill ! " 'ill "III li 94 I 'i l!i I I!'" A GREETING. TO R. W. M'D., 23rd FEBRUARY, 1884. When Fancy with her whimsy voice Proclaimed your Tin-ware Wedding Day, Then friendship heard the Old Word say- " Rejoice with them that do rejoice." I give you greeting and partake A portion in your happiness ; I give you greeting and address A greeting for your lady's sake. Two lustres of full life have linked Your home around with happy cliains, While youth gives way to better gains, And love grows more and more distinct. 'Tis yours the helpful partnerhood In every trouble, every need. The comrade heart in every deed, The kindred hope in every good. 'Tis yours the trust of childish hands, The love and faith of childish eyes, 'Tis yours to make the children wise, To twine aright the silver strands, iih 95 'Tis yours through childhood's gradual years To lead them to the steeper slopes, Still guided by a parent's hopes, Still guarded by a parent's fears. And not for all has God designed The happiness you celebrate ; There's many a lamp at death's dark gate Filled full of oil, has never shined. But God is good, we give Him praise, And pray we may be spared to see On some approaching jubilee The children's Tin-ware Wedding Days. ill i' 96 ! IN THE TWILIGHl. One evening when daylight was dying, And the stars glimmered — embers of day — In a seat by the half open window I mused over years gone away. I dwelt among beautiful shadows — Part sleeping and partly awake — That rose from an ocean of fancy Like mists from a quiet lake. In my age I but dream of the buried, The unborn was the dream of my youth, But my dreams are now none the less pleasant Because they are founded on truth. For the sadness of truth is about them, And the sweetness of sadness is best ; The sadness that follows our troubles Leaves sweetness distilled in the breast. Than the others, one fancy more pleased me As I sat in the solitude then. For it mingled the here and hereafter Uniting the angels with men. A page of the scriptural story Was blent with the life that I knew, Presenting a vision I wept for When it vanished away from my view. mrn^ 97 A ladder of memory lifted From earth to the far-away clime, Whence a glimpse of the glory of goodness Shone out on the darkness of time. On the stairway an army of angels Came softly and solemnly down, Whom I knew, when they gathered beside me, Had suffered the cross for the crown. There was many a fervently loved one Had left me in trouble and tears. There were some I had almost forgotten In the thronging of wearisome cares ; Yet none of them knew 1 was near them, Though some of them uttered my name ; Though evil may recognise goodness. Good knoweth no eviLor shame. The ladder grew dim in the sunset, And the fantasy faded away, I awoke to the life that is closing So soon to be dead, like the day. But I know there is ever remaining Some light of the love that has dawned, To lead through the valley of shadow Out into the Beulah beyond 08 ii^i ^j !l DEDICA TOR V. The love of one who never spoke A word to her he loved the best, Whose hidden worship never woke A thought in her unconscious breast ; The love of one who truly tried To live for her sweet sake alone, With thought and labour sanctified As if herself had seen and known ; The love of one who once or twice, Just for a moment, held her gaze. And gathered there a thought of price To cheer the darkness of the days ; The love of one who looks to stand, With freer friendship, face to face, And hear her voice and touch her hand In the communion of God's grace ; The love of one whose grievous care Is calmed and tempered by that faith. With half a cry, and half a prayer. Twines to her memory tliis wreath. m THE ROSE. O Rose ! console me now For heaven doth allow None else, but only thee To witness here with me, And keep to-night love's year long flight— O Rose ! a night of grief. Thy life is sweet as hers Who met the messengers Of death and led them back Along the brightening track, For she knew more of heaven's far shore, — O Rose ! knew more than tliey. As spotless she as thou ! God — loving — did endow Her soul with all things pure That here awhile endure. But deathly sleep my love doth keep — O Rose ! a sleep of death. O sweet and spotless Rose Thy life draws near its close ! Sweet, sweet immaculate maid, Her life is only stayed; The day grows bright beyond the night — O Rose ! grows bright with dawn. V 100 Thy beauty fades to dust With moth- fret, mould and rust. But hope and memory Preserve thy sanctity, And love's own flowers in Eden's bowers O Rose ! are flowers like thee! m 101 ONE. Of all the flowers at my feet A single blossom was t, , . eet. Of all the birds in the tree One alone sang for me. Of all the starry arraj One shone over my way. But the blossom has ceased to wave ; The bird has carolled his stave ; The starlight shines on a grave ! m 102 111 Mil III HER GRAVE. ri Let there be roses where she lies And let there be a lily, And when the daylight dawns or dies Let nowhere be so stilly. Let children come, of whom 'twas said- " Of such-like are My Father's," And nothing base be hither led While storm or sunshine gathers. When many years forget her name And ancient ivies creep there, Pray God preserve me free from blame And pure enough to sleep .there ! '"" 108 EDITirs GRAVE. In beauty as He moulded her, Four years ago God gathered her— A tender lamb, and folded her— An orphan child, and fathered her. I stand beside the grave of her, And know that lying shattered there Is nothing that I crave of her, For dust alone is scattered there. But springing like the flowers on it. My thoughts spring in the heart of me ; I face the silent powers on it, Nor fear that death is part of me. 104 FADING ' I !l Mi: i!i She moved about with quiet tread, With weary steps we still remember ; The sunshine kissed her drooping head, Like golden leaves in sad September. But though the chilling winds would shake, As yet they only breathed a warning ; And though she slept, she still would wake, And still we found her with the morning. Her every act, and all her words. Were flowers untimely in October, That gladdened faintly when the birds Grown silent, left us grave and sober. We scarcely felt that we were glad To have her yet a little longer, We dared not think that we were sad She did not leave us to be stronger. We knew she was not yet to go — Alas! the little while was fleeting — She fed a robin in the snow. She kissed us for a New Year's greeting ; But when the snowdrops trembling hung, Then bowed we dumbly, sorrow-laden, The Angel of the Lord had flung A snow-white robe around the maiden. 105 JESSIE. Where Jessie wrought her mission out— A shortened chain of April days — And stirred my faith and slew my doubt, And woke the nursling Hope to praise. There lingers yet some subtle trace Through all the woodland solitude, Some wistful beauty from her face. Some touch of her dead maidenhood. Her liome was near, and in this glade She told me of the Golden Gate, With sweet-souled counsel wisely w^eighed And faith that had not long to wait. So have I made my journey here Where first I found the Golden Way, And learned how life has less of fear For those who work than those who pray. But twenty years are sown and reaped Since last I looked in Jessie's eyes ; The suns and rains have scorched and steeped The lowly bed where Jessie lies. And from that blue between the boughs, And these green vistas reaching far, Her witness, come to prove my vows, Ari'^igns me at a solemn bar. Wi il::^' lis;' 106 What shall I plead ? My years of toil, My charity that sought no wage, Or that pure love that knew no soil, And set me this late pilgrimage ? My God, I have not any plea, My secret sins profane Thy sight ; Tliou art the Saviour, save Thou me. And lift my darkness into light. |":>1 HI II: i Pii ;ilv 107 ■.J ''GOODBYE, MY WIFE! When Love forgets to veil her eyes, And wisdom heals her heart, And helps the spirit to despise Its baser earthbom part ; In grave glad days, all grief gone by. Seek, dear, the quiet place Where in God's Acre I must lie. While He fulfils His grace. And sing again the songs we sung, And tell the tales we told, And all the dreams that make us young Will stir you as of old. The peaceful noons and nights will pass, The seasons swiftly turn, The snow will thicken on the grass, The ice will belt the burn. And many a genial sun will bring The swallow to her nest, And many a simple flower will spring Above my shrouded breast : The daisy star in silver set ; The dandelion's gold ; The primrose and the violet ; • The Qlover, honey-souled, \'\- H ill 11 I!!': 108 From May to May the years will ^row, Each like a tender bride, With wistful eyes and thoughts that glow, And life intensified. And summers, each more brightly fair, With rarer charms revealed, Inspired with every happy air That blows in Memory's field. Till in a far-oft fading time The solemn call will come, That bids the sweet bells dull their chime, Earth's voices all be dumb. Another grave will rest by mine, A love-enhallowed spot. Till pity fails to read the sign And we shall be forgot. Forgot ! — but nameless though they go, While Love and Time contend. Love's husbandmen reap what they sow. Love's harvest has no end. The Lord of Life is Lord of Death, His winters wait for spring — Remember, darling ; breathe no breath Of treason to the King. 11 100 :.'.;'' PRIMROSE DAY. 1883. Two years have westered since the pale primroses Were laid to wither in the great Earl's grave. 'Twas timid then, but now the flower is brave To wear his memory till our history closes. It shelters in secluded by-way places, A tiny thing ; yet he was not too great To know and love it, he who loved the State, And knew the glory spread before kings' faces. He cliose it with the subtle sapient fingers That wrought the world's will and controlled his time. And moved all chords from simple to sublime In lordly harmony whose music lingers. He wore it with the same familiar pleasure That brightens in the beggar children's cheeks Through all the April sunned and clouded weeks, When wood and lane yield up their yellow treasure. And to the service of the Sovereign-noted, By high and low, necessitous and rich, From costly garden, and from wayside ditch, The vestal flower for ever is devoted. no He wou— we wear — the pale but proud primroses, Pale for his death, but prouder for his life, Proud of the upward toil, the noble strife. The honoured peace where ti ut great heart reposes. m^ Ill IN MEMORIAM.—LEOPOLD. 28th March, 1884. Cold-hearted March's flowers of gold Must blanch to snow their yellow bloom For tribute on the untimely tomb Of Britain's dead — Prince Leopold. Bereaved of husband, daughter, son, O Queen, our thoughts are first to thee And yet in silence must we see The bitter sorrow of a throne. Young wife, amid thy sudden grief Thine infant's cry would make thee brave But looking down upon the grave The broken link of love is chief. Our Scholar Prince has passed away Upon the verge of Easter-tide ; And so his Royal father died While Advent waned to Christmas Day. The lesson is from Him who planned The Resurrection and the Life ; And people, brethren, mother, wife, Revere and love the ruling Hand, ' lii III i I, 148 BABV NEW YEAR. ? I Another baby-year is born, As everybody heard this morn, As fine a child as ever came, Though every father says the same. Just see him smile, and how he cries, And how he dreams with open eyes, And how he shuts them close to sleep And opens them again to weep. A little commonplace — perhaps ! But look in other people's laps And find a better baby there Than this that just begins to stare ; Get one will grow just half as fast And show such shoulder breadth at last ! He'll live as much in oi^c short day As all the world at once, they say. We mean to give him lots of school And teach him not to be a fool ; And so when April comes he'll know His way about the raree-show. He'll sentimentalize in May, And wander through the fields all day. And doubtless — not a bit too soon — He'll marry somebody in June. 14D, We hope he'll make a name for work When August apple-orchards smirk, And fill tlie harvest garners up, And brim September's cider-cup. A ad if the rest of life he spends Hobnobbing with his early friends We'll never speak a word's complaint— Besides he'll never bear restraint. And more, and this is truly bad, He'll be a glutton from a lad, And surfeiting on Christmas pie Before next New Year comes, he'll die ! iil;': ■■If-:: Hi w ■■■ / ;*.' i I I'Mi 'I ■It i ■! 160 A JANUARY THAW. O GREAT Canadian winter, King Frost and Ice and Snow, Your sceptre's but a splinter. Your robes are all aflow. You that were bright and bracing Now all collapsed and raw Confess defeat when facing A January thaw. Approach 1 our latest rubbers ! Depart ! our overshoes ! Aye ! scoff, ye southern lubbers Our sealskins we refuse. Umbrellas wave defiant From every shivering paw That shakes to meet the giant — The January thaw. Where does the snow-shoe wander ? Where does the skater glide ? And is that ruin yonder Our best toboggan slide ? Ah ! let the street-car hide us Upholstered deep in straw. Ere destiny o'er-ride us— The January thaw. 151 My vertebrae are melting, I nurse a wild catarrh, The rain without is pelting — How hopeless sleigh-rides are ! Does Kate, I wonder whether, Feel stupid as a daw — All underneath the weather — The January thaw ? ,m 152 VALENTINE. \% I A YEAR or more ago I met A maid whose eyes were blue, And when I see her big blue eyes I always think of you. Pretty fair brown hair she has In curls that fringe and flow ; It would, if I'd a lock of it. Remind me of you so. Her hands are small and white and soft, And kind in granting prayers, And on her gemmed and gentle hands Your size of glove she wears. Her dainty little feet are shod With dainty little shoes ; Like yours they trample underfoot Men's egotistic views. She is a little fairy from A broken mould of fate ; If we should lose you all the world Has not her duplicate. 153 Of course I got her photograph, And cheaper than a song ; A friend of mine had one of you— I robbed him— was I wrong ? And now yoii guess the riddle, dear, You know you're both the same, And I admire you twice as much As any other flame. 164 FATE, THE MILKMAN, ^Iy Fate's a wicked dairy-man Who sells me skim and charges cream, Puts " Human-kindness " on his can, And cold pump-water on my dream. With deprecatory pretence He begs his dues like other prigs — My time, my labour, and my pence, And steals my tit -bits for his pigs. I asked him why the milk I buy Is worse than theirs who dress in silk. But craftily he made reply — " 1 furnish them with asses' milk ! " I'd gladly change, but where I dwell He quite controls his branch of trade ; He is an anchorite as well And does not keep a dairy-maid. Milkman Fate ! these many years Your human-kindness mocks my thirst ; Your sweetest milk is salt with tears And on such food my hopes are nursed. 'till 155 EYE WISDOM. When man relies on woman's eyes His destiny to shew forth, Let him beware the black arts there, The treachery and so forth. Each dear deceit seems oh ! so sweet, Desirable and truthful, The fools make haste deep joy to taste And suck a bitter toothful. Eyes raven black may well bring back One's dread of that dark omen, And eyes of grey will soon betray One's credence in a woman. Soft eyes of brown will reap renown For falsehood with the bluest,— In every pair lies love's despair. The newest are the truest. The Chinese play looks very gay With lamps of colored paper. When every flame burns just the same Upon a tallow taper. So women's eyes, if men were wise, Are lanterns highly tinted, A tallow kind of light behind. And tallow rather stinted. m ONE OF THE LEFT. i ti 1-1 ■■Hi My rival was wealthier far, And his face had a handsomer cast ; He could smoke a delicious cigar, I was morally strong — he was fast. He had jilted two earlier girls, I discountenance people who flirt ; When I called him a swine among pearls, He called me a swine among dirt. He always threw dust in her eyes. While I strove to enlighten her youth ; He told her all manner of lies While I manfully stuck to the truth. When I asked her at last to be mine I found he had asked to be hers ; He had promised her France and the Rhine- I, the blessings a true heart confers. I offered her love and a home. But the programme omitted to a w ; My music was paper and comb. While he blew his horn with ec/a(. 157 Now I'm fully recovered from pique And my heart is as whole as a bu*ng, But she hasn't her sorrows to seek And he's sick of the sound of her tonffuo. Though marriage may be a success — A point on which few are agreed — In courtship — the primary mess, To fail is good fortune indeed. , 'i )|:i, 158 TO BEAUTY ASLEEP AMONG LILIES. By Swinburne Jones. Meagre measure of a garment garbs the dreaming dream divine, Brood of beauties that like stars in stately constella- tion shine, Face of fancy, flowei of fancy, uhe adroitest feat of fate, Figure fraught with fascination, form that Hate alone could hate, Angel ankles, members matching, fair as this could nothing be. Sight of sights uncited hereto, soul-sweet-surfeiting to see. 159 !•,!« THE PEANUT BALLADS. ( To be read in the Belfast vernacular.) L THE PEANUT STAND. There's a mighty tidy city at the foot of the Cave Hill, Where my father was a hackler in the Edenderry Mill, And my uncle was an Islandman, a rivetter to trade, And sweated on the longest keels and speediest ever laid ; For they say the White Star passes all the flags that sail the sea, And every Nic and Tic of them was built on Belfast Quay. But there's far too many boys at home, so in a foreign land. That's how I came to settle at a peanut stand. I landed in Toronto, and I walked about for days, Till my pocket was as empty as a nest where nothing lays; I went without my tea one day, and breakfast, and fpr lunch \ found a little picking on a bad banana bunch, i mi Hi ; .1 U I tightened up my braces like you tighten up a drum And I felt a sight too hollow only sucking at my thumb, But my chance came round immediately as if it had been planned, And I'm making dollars steady at my peanut stand. I was coming round a corner w^hen I lit upon a fight, A big man on a little one which never yet was right. The big one full of liquor till he couldn't hold his views. And the wee one full of nothing but the bones he couldn't lose. 'Twas a dirty-fisted Dago with a black-a-visted face, And a pair of yellow peepers would have frightened you from grace, But the big one stole some peanuts and the Dago held his hand. Till I helped to cure the trouble at the peanut stand. If you lived upon the Lagan you'd have muscles in your skin, And sure all the good Belfast in me just rose and waded in ; So he left the little Dago but I clipped him in the neck, And his liquor lost its virtue when I dropped him on the deck. He rose and looked me over, and he swore what he would do, • But he thought too long about it, and the crowci fallowed him through. 161 Well, sir, the little Dago up and ofiered me his hand, And that's how he got a partner at the peanut stand. Now this small Italian Dago-man was old, and thin, and done, Or it wasn't in his nature for to treat me like a son. But as soon as I let on that I was starving for a meal, He set me up a dinner would have done for Lord O'Neill. And from that I got to helping him, and wheeling home his cart, And for all he was a heathen, yet it wasn't to the heart ; So we worked along together, till the snow fell on the land. And left us next to powerless at the peanut stand. He hadn't one to own him, or to call upon in need, And we didn't have a deal of crack through differing in breed, But we got along harmonious till the frost got in his chest, And he lay down weak one evening, and was plainly near his rest. He slept awhile in quiet, and I thought he'd last till light. But he took a turn towards morning, and sat up most cruel white. And I saw the life was leaving him like water leaving sand, As he told me hovv Td have to keep the peanut stand, 162 He maybe would have liked a priest to put him on his way. But I couldn't leave him lying there alone in death's dismay ; So I got a little crucifix he kept among his clothes And thought how Roaring Hanna used to preach to love your foes When the Teagues were extra bitter at the Sabbath scholars' trips, And for all I was an Orangeman I held it to his lips. The Lord has many a way it seems of reaching out His hand, And the creature never fretted for his peanut stand. Good luck has kept near hand me since the poor old being died, And I hope it helps to comfort him wherever he may bide. I'm doing bravely since although a Papist gave the start, And now I've put in apples and a pony to the cart. It won't be very long before I open up a store, So one thing brings another when you're looking out for more, For I wrote to Pollie Rea I was her sweetheart to command, And she saj's she'll share the profits of the peanut stand, 1G3 //. THE PEANUT WEDDING. There's far too much advice about the way we ought to marry, For no matter what you follow likely Iftnds you in a hole, And heaps of decent couples that are going to old Harry, Are spoiled by friends' advice, upsetting notions, and the Bowl. For advice, I listen freely, and I do what I think pro- per. And I never drank that much but I could keep my powder dry ; As for pride, I take a fortune for a fortune — gold or copper — And for rank — well, Pollie thinks there's none can stand with Sam McKay. Some folks believe this life is only one of many threaded On the strands of life and death like sleep and waking day by day, And the friends that we have gathered, and the wives that we have wedded. Just old acquaintance newly dressed in fashionable clay. 164 If it's true that we're rewarded here for foregone deeds and doings, 'Twould be only fair and square and make it worth your while to try, 'Twould explain a lot to know we're only supping our own brewings, And maybe tell why PoUie Rea is Mrs. Sam McKay. in Her friends were in a better way of doing than my father's, And the time I saw her first was running barefoot on the street, I told my ma I'd marry her, but all I got was " Blathers, " A boy like you had better think of working for his meat." Thirteen I was ; the last five years, my uncle had me schooling At the Ballymena Model till it happened him to die; I had to leave it for Belfast, but spite of lots of fooling There was only Harry Kennedy ahead of Sam McKay. I used to go to church to see her sitting there fornenst me, So slie grew from eight to twenty and I came to twenty-five ; And though I sparked a lot of girls and had it laiid ai gainst me. 1^66 They never altered Pollie Rea with all they could contrive. Of course she was a teacher and a good deal set above nie, But she went with me to Bangor once — my heart was in the sky — And round by Bally holme she let it out she'd always love me, And she said she'd do her best to make a man of Sam McKay. for me Old country notions have it you must marry in your station, Be it teacher and mechanic, or a princess and a peer, So with that and slack employment I gave up my situation. And with Pollie's love and photograph I emigrated here. Peanuts and luck befriended me, and after five years' saving, I sent her home her passage, and for all she'd want to buy, Then I met her on the " Sarnia " with her handker- chief a-waving, And the Montreal good man and her soon married Sam McKay. We came down the Thousand Islands in the steamer to Toronto 106 And I left the store to Billy for the balance of the week ; I thought we'd see Niagara, because I knew she'd want to Before she settled down for good among the kitchen reek. We saw the whole belongings round that water always pouring, And I couldn't sleep with listening to it never run- ning dry, And thinking of the waste of it, the dashing and the roaring, 'Twould turn my head to live at it as sure as I'm McKay. But Pollie kissed me every night for bringing her to see it; The rainbow on the water-mist she said was worth God's while; The water was a wonder, but the Finger that could free it Was the marvel far beyond them all — Niagara or the Nile! I think she has more mind than mCy or had more exercising, For I'd rather hear a katy-did or see a strange bird fly. _ _ Than spend my time with water-falls, and things as much surprising, But that makes us complementary, says Mrs. Sam McKay. 1G7 The places Captain Webb was in the guides were bound to show us Till I wondered what they talked about before his foolish vow ; And we drove to see the Whirlpool boiling far away below us Where I thought I saw a dog was drowned, but sure it was a cow. And now we've seen it end to end I'm glad we're home in quiet, And settled in our own wee house with not a tear to cry, Away out near the Woodbine where land's cheap enough to buy it. And friends are always welcome warm to Mrs. Sam McKay. 168 ///. A PEANUT LEGEND. Young Hezekiah Mec fell deep in love with Ethel Murphy, So William Dander told me on the Island last July, We were lying snug and shady where the grass was soft and turfy, And the Bay was boiling over, and the boats were in a fry. Now Dander beats the old one when it comes to telling stories, And he'll talk a month of Sundays if you let him smoke his clay ; Och! he's great about his travels, or on Ireland's ancient glories. And you never met his equal yet when day-li'-gone* is gray. Well, Miss Ethel was an orphan, and an heiress, William started. And as lovely as Queen Vashti, and by all accounts as proud, But Hezekiah doted on her, not a bit downhearted, Because he was no more to her than any in the crowd. *Day-light gone, t.«., twilight. 10f> He wasn't too well favoured, and he wasn't very clever, And thirty bob a week was every penny of his pay, But with managing lie spruced himself and did his best endeavour, And joined the Linen Hall*, and read the books in section K. He came no speed at all at all in meeting with the lady, And it's very well he didn't, for lio'd just have got a snub, But he kept on saving money and one fine and happy pay-day He bought a brand new bicycle and joined the Richmond Club. And after that by day and night he dreamt on tracks and training, Till the joggling of his legs would knock the blan- kets all astray, And he'd start awake and hurry, be the weather dry or raining, To be out and on the cinder-pad before the screek of day. He knew she wouldn't speak to him unless he could be famous. And he never could catch up to that unless it was on wheels. But he thought he'd learn Miss Ethel he was not a') ignoramus When he owned the champion muscles and the smartest pair of heels. *Reading-rooin aud Library. 170 The spring of eighty-four it wos he started first at racing, At the Easter sports in April he was premier of the clay ; There had been a lot of preaching that athletics were debasing, "And I'll debase the record," Hezekiah said, "in May." His form was something wonderful, his spurting led the fashion, And nothing in Belfast could touch him one to fifty miles ; But still he was the victim of an agitating passion. And as far away as ever from Miss Ethel Murphy's smiles. So he notified the Club and they appointed a com- mittee To time him on the morning of the twenty-fourth of May, And they gathered bright and early, at the morning prime so pretty, With Dander's big chronometer to regulate the play. The Lagan ran like silver in the morning sunlight shining, And the great trees wore their greenest of the fresh and dewy spring, The Ormeau Park is beautiful, but fair beyond divining In the first rich life of summer ere the Mayfly takes its wing. 171 An even mile the race track ran, through planes and elms and beeches, And the Captain had his ticker ready waiting Mee to mount, When a tall, dark man came forward, and an oilcan out he reaches, And says, " Just you try this oil here ; it will lielp your wheels to count." Well, Hezekiah oiled again, ball-bearings, head and pedals, And thanked the tall dark stranger and remounted his machine, While the Captain looked annoyed, the way you look at one that meddles, But gave the word and started him while interest got keen. " Three-forty-three," cried Dander as he closed the first lap easy, " He needs a man to speed him," cried the Bugler with conceit ; " He's waiting on his wind," said one ; "I noticed he was wheezy," But walking off, half-laughing, said the stranfrer " It's the heat." ' The seccmd mile was better ; said the Captain "Three- eleven," As he swept down round the corner past the crowd upon the grass, 172 And they cheered him loud and hearty at the third " Two-fifty-seven," And they saw his teeth set steady as they gave him room to pass. The fourth one finished " Fifty-two," and gathering round the ticker, They wondered as they watched him spurting down the long, straight track. To lose him at the turn among the trees, till quick and quicker. And humming like a bee among the bushes, he came back. " Two-Iorty-one," they yelled and screeched, as on he went still faster ; "He'll whack the record hollow if he's only fit to stay." Some cautious fellows muttered they were feared of a disaster, " His wheel might buckle under him ; the rubber might give way." But the sixth mile reeled below him, and the record went to pieces As the seventh one was finished with a cheer that tore the air ; " Two-twenty-eight and game for more. Each lap the pace increases." Said the Captain, " Mr. Bugler, you can speed him if you care." 1 it ■']■■ 1 173 The eighth and ninth went higher, and the tenth just touched two minutes ; Then even William Dander thought they'd pretty near enough, And the whole lot got that quiet they could hear a pair of linnets That were singing right behind them, and thf Captain tore his cuft, But on went Hezekiah, never slacking, never minding. But whizzing round the corners sharp at forty-five degrees, Till they noticed at the thirteenth lap, as harder he came grinding, A sort of steam behind him on the light May morn- ing breeze. A mist like thin tobacco reck, uncanny and mysterious, And his eye was fiery flaming as he passed them once again, " We must stop him," then said Dander ; " Yes," the Captain said, " It's serious ; It looks like he was melting since he finished ofif ihe ten." Bat he flew ahead still faster at a rate beyond all telling ; They heard the spokes revolving with a gruesome sort of scream. As sweeping, whirling past them, some terrific foree impelling. He turned the eighteenth f ..ner in a drifting cloud of steam. 174 But when he came the next time there was nothing of the vapour, The crying noise the spokes had made had faded clean away, His face seemed half-transparent with a look of tissue paper. And his flannels looked like gossamer or cobweb silver grey. But his eyes kept burning, burning, though he seemed so light and airy, As he did the mile a minute and went by them like a flash ; And then the Bugler fainted, as it seems, to be con- trary, And falling on two bicycles, upset them with a crash. iSK M 'Twas somehow then they lost him with the fainting and the flurry. Some said he took the Lagan Village, some the Ormeau Gate ; But they got the Bugler better and went homeward in a hurry, And agreed to keep it quiet, and they never ride out late. Yet the queerest thing about it all was what they heard at dinner; That morning, very suddenly. Miss Ethel Murphy died. And Dander says it makes him creep and feel a bigger sinner To think of what l\c saw of Hezekiah's phantom ride. 175 IV. PEANUT MEMORIES. Did you ever feel that lonesome like that nothing could content you, With your heart all swollen, rolling like a river-tide at flood, Till the weest things that happened would that fidget and torment you The sight of them you fed and clothed would poison all your blood ? I felt like that last year in March one evening after 'Twas the seventeenth of Ireland coming set me thinking long, A hen on a hot griddle never equalled me for fretting So I took a dander after dark to clear up what was wrong. a The stars were bright — so clear and bright — I couldn't look below them, And I never felt the frost-wind blowing bitter through my coat. For they every one kept shining down and asking did I know them, Did I mind at Balljmena on the fairy-forayed Moat ? 1 176 B Did I mind them ? Could I think of any other mor- tal notion, With nothing changed about them but the boy that saw them shine ; If the Hebrews turned their noses up at Canaan after Goshen Sure an Irish heart may hanker for the home ayont the brine ? I was homesick, that's the long-come-short, and tive H good miles and farder 1 I travelled up and down before I got a bit of peace, 1 For a man that has a wife and wean to shift for takes 1 it harder H When his feelings turn and gabble at him like a ffi flock of geese. : ■ ■' , t j;' And still one great big star kept shining, shining clear and glorious. And a voice it had kept asking with a tongue thnt wouldn't tire, flSi I could hear it still and quiet though the night-wind blew uproarious — ''^^BPfl . " Do you think your mother's happy by her lonely jaMj ' kitchen-fire?" 1 My heart rose like a boat upon a surging crest of >'^^^^H sorrow '1 And sank away to nothing in a trough of sore m despair ; jf \l >«- 1 177 I had no use to live at all ; I'd give the Lord's to- morrow To be just a wee wee boy again beside my mother's chair. The glow of later summers touches childhood with such gilding That all the gold of life between looks dark and dull and dim; And manhood's chant, and labour's lay, the songs of fortune-building, Sound harsh to ears that heai* again the far-off children's hymn. I was back again in Lorimerstown, a barefoot wean of seven. Winding bobbins, dropping praties, dibbling plants, or mixing swill. Or free by law or license to get one whole day from heaven. Going wading, catching spricklies at the foot of Church's hill. Or chasing things with picture wings in spite of regulations Through clover-fields and corn-tields, pulling cress at Vincent's well, Or finding nests and scaring rabbits over Youngs plantations, And clodding stones and climbing, doing things 1 durstn't tell. 178 And coming home worn out at last, with clothes in want of mending, And meeting mother, shamefaced for the clabber on them thick ; And seeing father weaving as I left him, only bending A little more above the heddles, looking white and sick ; And eating fadge and soda-bread, and washing in the bucket. And sleeping somewhere, soon and snug, with mother singing low — We get the balance seldom but that night the star- shine struck it, And my heart was wrenched to learn the price a man must pay to grow. 1^. r Yet life is well worth living and I hurried home to Pollie, And she wasn't vexed a bit because I left her feel- ing blue ; She's sense and comfort always when I feel a twinge of folly, And life's a great investment when your wife has wit for two. I told her all I thought and how I wanted baby's grannie To come across in summer-time and stay with us awhile ; Ht)W proud she'd be to get the chance to nurse our own wee mannie, Nor ever interfering in the husband's mother's style. 17D And Pollie said she didn't want to go back home tliis long time, But she'd dearly love to see a face just fresh from old Belfast, When the year had spread to spring-time, grown to flower-time, turned to song-time, She would like to look in Irish eyes and talk about the past. And that's how mother's visit in the summer-time was settled. She made no bones about it when we wrote for her to come ; True love goes round the world, she said, and mother's love's high mettled, And the older still the abler, and the Lord puts down the sum. i;i is 180 V. A PEANUT ROMANCE. It's William Dander tells the crack of Billy Mcllvane, Though every man an^ child from Portglenone to Cushendall Kenned Billy well and worthy, since the time he was a wean Till the day they took him coflfined from Ahoghill Orange Hall. For Dander says he beat the heathen god upon the fife, And every Twelfth the lodges had him aye in great request ; It was wonderful to hear him, but it took away his life. And the tune was never made could pay a man to spoil his chest. But Dander says the fifing never hnrted him at all, 'Twas the wetting, and the damp and cold, and getting chilled at night ; He says that Billy told him when he took too sick t<> crawl How misfortunate a thing it was, and wanted it told right. 181 'Twas one of Billy's ways to go round showing how to play To a wheen of fellows living all about the country side, And they had him at lint-pullings, and at Orange Balls for pay, For 'twas well-beknown his fifing beat all fiddling far and wide. He was used to coming home at any hour you'd see the stars. From every art in ten townlands and mostly all his lone, So he'd play the fife for company, and fight King William's wars. And study all the queer old days behind King William's throne. But Billy was no luny — he was there when God made brains — A bogle couldn't scare him — he heard tell of them before. And he never thought of fairies only sporting with the weans, May-eve at hanging May-flowers for a charm at every door. But after this thing happened him it give his head a twist ; Stepping home one night by ghost-light to the tune of Colleen dhas, 182 When he came to Tullygarlej^ brig the Braid was all a mist, And speech came from the thick of it forbidding him to pass. With a voice that wasn't mortal in a mist — and noth- ing more — Thinks Billy " There are times to run, and them that can't run, prays ; I'm afeard it is a woman," and he either prayed or swore, " I'm afeard it's not the welcome sort that dresses up in stays." By this the mist was clearing off, and Billy looking down Sees standing in the flood, or swimming — sorrow one knows which — The loveliest kind of female between that and Lime- rick town, With the general look and beauty of an Irish water- witch. Says she, " Billy, I am lonesome." " Well," says Billy, " I'm afeard I haven't seen your family lately," speaking quite polite ; " If you like, Mem," he kept talking, picking up and feeling cheered To ste such melting eyes, " I'll post a letter if you'll write." , it 188 " Och, Billy, that's not it at all. I want to have a friend ; If you'll come down to the waterside and listen for awhile I'll try and make you sensible how far my powers extend, And how much we'd help each other," and with that she give a smile. So down went Billy on the bank, just trusting to his luck. And she led him to a quiet place near where the waters meet. She could swim without a ripple, floating easy as a duck. But he never found out whether it was with a tail or feet. She kept him and conversed him till the glinting of the dawn. And trysted him for that night week at Lisnafillan Green, And through that year all round the Maine and Braid she led him on. With tales of queer outlandish things and words of love between. She must have had a notion of him, seeing all she did, And what she told him, how he lived in ages long agoi A harper to King Brian, and far more his wit kept htd! Since people just would laugh, he said, at what they didn't know. •*,>\^ ^<^. . e-v^ Photographic Sciences Corporation iV /^ ^^v ^^ :\ \ ^^ 4> <* 23 WEST MAfN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4 ;j)3 ^^7 C/ji 184 He said her name was Moira, and she once had great renown, And mighty proud she made him with a serpent ring of fat 3, But what he set most store by was a fife she brought him down From where it lay below the Boyne since James went out of date. The music Billy made with it was past belief to hear You'd thought the stars were singing when you heard him in the dark, And I've known old David Herbison, the poet, say " Ay, dear, I'd just as soon hear Billy as a blackbird or a lark." But Billy's music died away ; the silver notes had rest, And Dander promised solemnly they'd never sound again ; That he'd take the fife in friendliness, was Billy's last request, And fling it in the water where the Braid flows in the Maine. And William Dander did it when the moon was sink- ing low, And a mist swept up the river with a lamentation sore ; The tongue was past man's knowledge, but the mean- ing seemed to go — • Oh, Billy, you're my darling, but I'll never see you more ! " 55 1 lad great a serpent e brought ice James >f to hear irhen you poet, say )r a lark." 3 had rest, ver sound Billy's last i flows in was sink- mentation the mean- er see you