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It is published in fulfilment of a promise made to the deceased, and with deep regret that he had not lived to review his own work, as it would, no doubt, have come before the public in a more finished form ; as many of the best pieces were not complete, and only a few had been carefully veviewed by the author. All the poems have been examined by mem- bers of his family. But in doing so, our object has been to retain, as far as possible, not only the original ideas, but also the original language. This we considered a matter of simple justice, and did not introduce changes where they could be avoided. I trust, therefore, that any who may be critically disposed will accord the usual courtesy shown to the dead, as I am quite sure my husband's chief desire was to promote the interests of the Redeemer's kingdom. And if that end should be accom- plished, in any mean* whatever, by the publication of this little book, his labour will be amply rewarded. MARY HENRY. ToC To a The Yout Totl Dove Sleef A N( To a To\^ To a The J The( Our ( Thei The J- Consc Fleeti Taker The I The I A Wii Good- John's Pieces TheT Couiti To H. TheC Man w To Wi To a I Snow Kingy CONTENTS. SONGS BY THE WAY. PACK. PAGR. To Canada : A Winter Song • 7 Hirthday Ode (Division) . 46 To an Old Well . • 9 Sunshine after Rain . • 47 The Woodshed . . lO To the Ocean • 48 Youth's Question . . II King John and Pandolph . • 50 To the Flowers . . 12 Nobility • 5» Doveran • '3 Our Sphere 51 Sleep .... • '5 A Lazy Man . • 52 A New Combine . . i6 To a Mosquito . • 53 To a Comet • 17 Moving Clouds 54 To Winter . • 19 Love ..... 55 To a Friend . 20 Contentment . • 56 The Same . 20 The Red, White and Blue . 56 The Old Road . . 21 To Temperance Men 57 Our Own Sweet Will . 22 Love's Mission . 59 The Approach of Winter . • 23 Youthful Aspirations 59 The Sea of Life . • 25 The Old Man's Soliloquy . 61 Conscience 25 Election Day, January 20th, Fleeting Joys . 26 1890 63 Taken for a Tramp . • 27 Our Country . . . . 63 The Poet's Mistake . 28 Hold On ... . 64 The Human Heart . . 29 King Alcohol . 65 A Winter Night Dream . • 30 Epigaea .... 66 Good-Wife's Sunday Nap . • 32 Words .... 67 John's Disappointment . 33 To a Youthful Companion 68 Pieces Written in Albums . 34 Gold 70 The Toothache 35 A Morning Reverie 70 Courting Episode 36 Look Ahead . . . . 71 To H. M. (in Album) . 38 King Alcohol's Raid 72 The Contest . 38 Misfortunes . . . . 73 Man was not made to Mourn . 39 Labourer's Evening Song 75 To Write or Not to Write 41 Inexpressible . . . . 76 To a River . ... 42 The Toiler .... 77 Snow .... 43 An Autumn Eve . . . 77 King Alcohol's Tyranny . . 45 Pieces Written in Albums 78 CONTENTS. sacrp:i) PAGE. ♦* Sorrow and Sighing Shall Flee Away" . . . 8i The King's Jewels . . . 8^ Song of the Atjed Toiler . 84 The Sower . . . . 86 " Friend after Friend ^leparts" 87 The Heliever's Safety . . 89 *' I know not what awaits me" 91 "Trust in the Lord" . . 92 ' vVhat Owest Thou " . -93 Looking Heavenward . . 94 A Lament . . . -95 Life 96 "Out of Darkness into Light" 97 Creation's Thine . . . 97 Risen with Christ . . 98 'thoughts on the Dead . . 99 Infinite .... 100 The Path of Virtue . . 102 Lead me Hack . . .103 Come ! . . . . . 104 Awake ! . . . . 106 The Scene Beyond . , . 106 Life 108 What think ye of Christ ? . 109 Wandering of the Saint . 1 10 Toil On Ill " Cast your Burden on the Lord " 112 " Light after Darkness " . 112 In Time of Drought and Fire (1889) ... 13 Jesus Reigns . . . . 114 Gratitude . . . -US Alone . . . . . 116 Away 116 Adoring the Saviour . .117 Musings of a Poor Man's Soul 1 18 Come! ye weary . . .119 Looking to Jesus . . .120 SONGS. Sing 1 Earth ! . PACK. 121 Faith 121 My Sins Abstraction . . . . 122 123 For My Sake . . . . Hymn for Public Worship , 124 124 Hymn of Praise for Blessings 126 " Behold ! What manner of Love " 127 Wonderful Love . 128 On Galilee . . . . 130 Keep me . . . . Whither? . . . . «3' •31 To be with Christ All Sufficient . . . . 133 134 "Jesus Himself went with them" . Evening Retrospect . " Lovest Thou Me ?" . 134 136 136 Jesus is my Friend . 138 Lines suggested by Sabbath Trains .... • 139 Come Home . 141 Hymn of Praise God's Gift to Man . 142 • 143 His Crowns • 144 Worthy the Lamb Look up . A Humble Soul's Answer t( • 145 . 146 John xxi. 13 Seeking Light The Infinite . 147 . 148 . 149 In a Strange Land Why will ye die ? . 150 • 151 Hear me . 152 In Memorian — A. H. • 153 Back Again . The Light is Breaking Gone .... • 155 . 156 • IS9 SONGS BY THE WAY. TO CANADA. A WINTER SC "'. The muse delights to paint some blissful land Where mildest zephyrs play, And brightest sunbeams gild its strand Through all the live-long day, And in whose peaceful groves at morn arise The song-birds' happy note. While flovv'rets dew-gemmed greet the eyes In every sunny spot. But, Canada, I ween another song Must now be sung for thee, For keen's the icy breath that long Has bound thy frozen lea. What though thy biting winds may not invite The sluggish soul's repose. They stir the heart with stern delight To conquer, or oppose. And sweep diseases on a hurried race To milder southern climes ; Give bracing pleasures in their place To suit our winter times. 8 SONGS nV THE WAY. Thy keener air gives health, a vigorous frame, When down among the zeroes, That well might raise a nation's fame And stamp her sons as heroes. The merry chiming bells like music ring When waftc'^ on the breeze, As cheering as the birds that sing Embowered among the trees. The glittering snow that gems the leafless bowers, The fretted window pane, In beauty vie with summer flowers That thickly stud the plain. There's beauty in thy floor of peerless white And dome of cloudless blue ; Thy varied scenes present a sight As fair as aught we view In other lands, where constant summer reigns ; For in each season's prime Heaven gives to thee the snow-clad plains And blooming summer time. But, Canada, although thy summer's brief, Thy winter cold and long. We will not pine in endless grief, Nor rob thee of thy song That's due to thee, by all thy sons of toil. For health and vigor given, A peaceful home, a fruitful soil. The gifts of bounteous Heaven. SONGS BY THE WAY. 9 TO AN OLD WELL. I sat beside a mouldering well, Dug in the bygone days ; And, as I gazed, I felt a spell That woke my fancy up to tell Some story in its praise. The fern and bramble freshly grew Upon its mossy brink. The tame fragoria, full in view, Its slender tendrils downward threw To reach the cooling drink. The traveller, for this retreat, Has left the dusty way. And crossed the fence, with eager feet, To drink thv waters cool and sweet At noontide of the day. The plodding swain, with patient team, The milkmaid, with her flock, Would loiter here to chat and laugh, While team and herd would slowly quaff The waters from the rock. Decrepit age, with staff in hand, Would linger by thy side. To muse with joy, perchance to grieve O'er pleasures gone, with no reprieve, Though oft he grieved and sighed. 10 SONGS BY THE WAY. Here pensive melancholy may Have sat at evening's close, To brood o'er all the ills of life : Its fickle fortune — deadly strife ; And sigh for death's repose. The chubby child of tender years, The self-important swell. The maid that smiles 'mid hopes and fears, The widow in her weeds and tears, Have gathered round this well. The man of science in his search. The patriot and peer, The artist in a sketching round, The poet in a dream profound, May all have gathered here. THE WOODSHED. Oh ! the woodshed is a jolly place, When a dozen boys together Come rushing in with frantic race, In time of stormy weather. They come with every plot and plan That can fill the youthful noddle, From the boy almost a rpfin To the one that just can toddle. SONGS BY THE WAY, 11 Perhaps some embryotic lord Is now contending with his fellows ; Some patriot who shall wield a sword, Or else, instead, a pair of bellows. But the woodshed is a doleful place, With a lonesome bov at work : How he puckers up his lengthened face And gives his saw a jerk. For he thinks of all the other boys That are running round at play, Each bouncing at his favourite toy, While he alone must stay. Cheer up your heart, my little boy ; You may live to see the day When life shall bring to you more joy Than to the boys who play. YOUTH'S QUESTION. "Tell me, O ye hoary sages. Who have proved the good and t;ue, From the wisdom of all ages : What is best for man to do ? " For I hear the eager voices Of a vast, unnumbered throng, That upon its march rejoices In a burst of mirth and song. 12 SONGS BY THE WAY. i " Now I hear them lightly laughing, Fondly calling unto me ; Some the sparkling cup are quaffing With a shout of ecstasy. *' But I hear the voice of others Sounding on the evening air ; Calling, in the name of brothers, * Come with us, our pleasures share. Glad am I, O youth, to teach you All of joy and truth I know ; And I now would fain beseech you, Hold them dear, nor let them go. Hear ye, then, the voice of reason, When it gently speaks of truth ; Truth is always held in season, Sweetest in the days of youth. Think not that the sweetest pleasure Can be gained at virtue's price : Truth and pleasure are a treasure Never found in paths of vice. TO THE FLOWERS. Ye gentle, blooming flowers, of every hue Of blushing beauty rare ; I love you so That I could call ye all the tender names That ever mother called her tender babe. SONGS BY THE WAY. 13 Or fondest lover lavished on the one His soul adored. Ye smile around my path When my sad heart is full of care, and with Your dewy petal lips ye whisper soft Within my ear, " Be glad," and cares depart, And wnen the envious thought would rise within My breast, the sweetness of your upward glance Disarms the glowing wrath, and melts the soul To tenderness ; and when I see you bloom When trodden on by rough and careless feet, I meekly learn a lesson — how to bear. With calmness in my soul, the scorn of men ; And so, like you, 'mid sharp adversity, To turn a longing, trusting look to Heaven. Kind Heaven I we thank thee for the blooming flowers, So freely scattered over hill and plain : Although they nourish not our wasting powers, Yet raise our hope, and faith in Thee sustain. DOVERAN. limpid, pure, meandering river, Half hid among embowering trees ; Thy scenes would cheer my heart for ever, Mine eye thy beauties please. 1 still remember thee, O Doveran, In other lands, 'mid broader streams ; And in my heart I hold thee sovereign, . Awake, or in my dreams. 14 SONGS RY THE WAY. Thy meadows green, the wooded mountains, That cast their shadows o'er thy face ; The rocky gorges, bubbling fountains, I still would love to trace. Thy pebbly strand I paced with pleasure, When, in the youthful days of yore, With swinging arm I'd deftly measure Thy breadth from shore to shore. Upon thy banks what stately mansions In architectural glories rise ; While flowery meads, in broad expansion. Meet smiling summer skies. The milky swan, to thee domestic, Sails daily forth in regal pride. With curving neck and mien majestic, To breast thy gentle tide. The ancient Burgh has yet a glory, As, lying in its still repose. It brings to me a wealth of story To live to mem'ry's close. O hill of Doon, thou silent spectre, That mutely guards the nuptial hour, When Doveran touches Ocean's sceptre, And meekly owns its power : Can science tell what strange commotion, What freak of nature, ever reared The rugged barrier to the ocean That forms thy bosom seared : SONGS BY THE WAY. 15 O city, stream and ancient mountain ! Though absent long, yet thoughts arise Within my heart, to stir its fountain, And dew my weary eyes. For once again 1 long to wander And view each old familiar scene, Where woods embower and streams meander, And summer glories gleam. But should my fate deny the pleasure To trace thy stream by vale and hill, Yet in my heart I'll fondly treasure These thoughts that haunt me still. SLEEP. O blessed sleep I who does not welcome thee ? Even though thou comest with a conqueror's mien To play thy shafts on our defenceless heads, Or witchingly with thy enchantress' wand To steep each sense in deep oblivion ; Or, stealthily silent as a midnight thief. Relax our grasp and let our treasures fall. The weary matron, urged by pressing need, Her bu fingers plies till latest hour ; But thou, with downy touch insensible. Dost close the unwilling eyes, the nerves relax : The stitches drop, and so a weary heart Throws off a load of care and finds relief. Even to the weak and pining invalid. That hourly tosses on a fevered couch, 16 SONGS BY THE WAY. I How sweet the peaceful, calm, unconscious rest, When all the pain and fear are lost in thee. Come, then ! thou sweet enchantress, softly come, And with thy fairy fingers deftly weave A filmy veil, -o shade my wakeful eyes Fr-^m every baneful sight, and gently close These ears to all disturbing sounds ; And, with thy gentlest opiate, induce Profoundest rest, to soothe these tired nerves ; And softly woo this overburdened heart A few brief hours from all corroding cares. A NEW COMBINE. In strolling out one evening, Just after supper-time, I heard a little confab About a new combine. A gad-fly and mosquito Sat on the brindle cow ; At first I heard a talking. And then I heard a vow. Said the skeeter to the gad-fly: '* If we combine together, We'll keep these cattle in a fry In every sort of weather. I know you like the sunshine : The damp is my delight ; If you'll turn out at day-time, Then I'll be round at night." SONGS «Y THE WAY. ••All right, then," said the gad-fly, With a doleful, droning buzz ; ••I'll do it just to please you, My charming little coz 1 " •• All right, then," piped the skeeter, With a knowing litthMvink; Then he stuck in his little prob And took a hearty drink. And so they pledged together, In a draught from moolie's vein, The flv to work in sunshine, The skeeter after rain. 17 TO A COMET. Whence or whither, thou messenger of light } Of whom do poets sing and sages write ! What potent hand now guides thy rushing prow Amid the sparkling orbs that thickly stud The teeming ocean of unmeasured space ? Can deep-eyed science read thy destiny Or tell thy mission to our circling earth } Reason must grope its way from truth to truth With dimly-lighted tapers in her hand ; But fancy soars on light and buoyant wing Where reason dimly gropes, and eager flies On dark, untrodden paths, beyond our ken. Then wake, my fancy ! and on fleetest wing Pursue the stranger guest that leaves these shores, B 18 SONGS IIY THE WAY. And learn what secret thus she holds from man. No idle wanderer art thou through all These years and in the limitless expanse Of jewelled space. I would not ask thy age ; But hast thou sailed these shores in other years ? And if, what hast thou seen of other worlds ? Hast thou not seen some sister orb beyond Our ken, that circles round our parent sun ? What knows thy long elliptic path of heat Or cold, darkness or light, or various speed ? How near to other central suns dost thou Approach upon thy lonely path ? Hast thou Not felt their soft, compulsive influence To draw thee from allegiance to earth's sun ? Why dost thou wheel thy solitary path Athwart the orbits other suns traverse ? How near the future blissful home of saints Hast thou arrived, or is thy mission here. To bear their happy spirits to their home ? We take thee as a peaceful visitor . No tale of bloody war dost thou presage, Nor famine's cry, nor scourge of pestilence. Oh, art thou, then, the swift triumphal car, Where Gabriel rides, or Michael swiftly flies To visit earth ? Or dost thou bear a vast Unnumbered throng of earth's redeemed to view This scene of sin, of former fears and hopes ? Or dost thou bring around our blighted shores A company of heavenly guests, arrayed In holiday attire, to see the scene Where man hath sinned — the Son of God hath died, SONGS BY THE WAY. 19 And all the mystery of love adore ? But yet 'tis vain that fancy questions thus : Thy mission through the ever-circling spheres, Though pondered oft, remains unfathomed still. TO WINTER. [In 1882, winter, with strange persistency, extended itself far into spring. Sleighing did not l)reak up until May 3rd.] O dreary winter ! why so loth to leave Our pining land ? Our hearts most deeply grieve Thy long unlooked-for stay. Dost thou not know We bade thee welcome seven long months ago. When we had garnered in our yearly store. And all our needful toil in fields was o'er ? We hailed thee with delight, in thy good time, And sang thy praises, too, in homely rhyme. We buckled on our furs, rushed forth in glee. O'er snowy plains and icy streams with thee. And when thou cam'st, with drifting storm and cloud. We to thy icy sceptre meekly bowed. But now, in May, instead of sun and showers. You send the blinding drift within our bowers. The hungry herds roam over wastes of snow, Where other years the tender grass will grow ; And bleating flocks their daily vigils keep Till they shall crop the twig and herbage sweet. Man longs for mossy banks and leafy bowers. For balmy breezes and the opening flowers ; But you would crowd the spring from out the year, Nor for the offered insult drop a tear. 20 SONGS UY THE WAY. The sun at Summer's height still finds you here, With biting blast and face that's cold and sere. Ah, Winter! can'st thou not seek another home, And find a welcome place wherein to roam ? Oh ! think you n't you fill our hearts with pain, When you invade the summer's bright domain, And over half the year extend thy reign ? Come, O sweet Spring 1 now at thy latest ho ur. With balmy breath and soul-reviving power. To w.-^ke the choral train in field and bower. And ope the prisoned bud and tender flower. Come, in thy sunny smile, and with us stay. And drive chill Winter to the north away. TO A FRIEND. True friendship is a plant of heavenly birth The hand of Deity transferred to earth, And bade it blossom in the hearts or men ; And sent the angels down to watch with care, Till they and it be raised to heaven again, To bloom on high, in God's own garden fair. To thee be pure and deathless friendships given, By angels guarded, and approved by heaven. THE SAME. True friendship's like the lily fair, Or like the blooming rose. That blossoms in the sunlit air Or in the shadow's deep repose , SONGS hY THE WAY. 21 Or like a beam of radiant lii^ht That streams from yonder glowing sun, And makes the lonely pathway bright, Till cares are past and bliss begun. Be then such friendships thine: Pure ^ ' ''ght that fills the sky, Or fair a. s that entwine With roses of a brighter dye. THE OLD ROAD. This is the road I've gone so oft, By day, by night, and in all kinds of weather ; 'Mid winter's cold, or when the winds blew soft ; Sometimes alone, or two or three together. I know each turn along its tortuous course, Each jolting crossway, its decaying bridges ; Each tiny brooklet, from its boggy source, That slowly winds around the breezy ridges. I know each bush and tree that skirts its marge. And 'most each panel of its crooked fences ; Each farm and dwelling — be they small or large, Each owner, with his probable expenses ; Each gate, each gap or handy pair of bars, And even the ant-hills on its side I've counted ; Each flock and herd, with all their marks and scars ; Each passing team, and how that team was mounted. 22 SONGS BY THE WAY. Sometimes I've travelled in despondent mood, Sometimes my spirits were in exultation ; Nor strange it is, when it is understood Tiiat I have passed here for a generation. I've gone this way for more than thirty years. To church, to mail, to do my weekly trading ; I've followed friends, while carried on their biers ; And here I've gone invited to a wedding. I've gone in haste and in deliberate mood, On urgent business and for trifling reasons ; Sometimes, an hour, I've with a neighbour stood. Discussing trade, and crops and changing seasons. POST OBIT. 'Tis yet the same, that old-time road, As weary travellers climb the hill ; But now the singer's soul has gone to God, The well-known form lies cold and still. OUR OWN SWEET WILL. What is sweeter to a woman ? (Perhaps to man 'tis dearer still) What is more intensely L aman Than to have our own sweet will ? It is not truth, it is not reason. Though a sure, unerring guide ; Nor thoughts of loyalty or treason Make the average man decide. SONGS BY THE WAY. 23 But his will, still domineering, Keeps his passions all elate ; Driving onward, never veering, To the iron wall of fate. Law nor duty may not lead him In the path immaculate ; If you guide, then, you must feed him With some sweet, alluring bait. THE APPROACH OF WINTER. The chilly winds begin to blow Among t.ie tree-tops bare. I feel the breath of frost and snow — There's winter in the air. I know the winter's coming now — I hear its sullen roar. And see the scowl upon its brow Beneath its locks so hoar. The migratory geese now pour, In orderly array. From the windy lakes of Labrador To a sunny southern bay. The feathered songsters all have llown On fleet, instinctive wing, To cheer a milder-tempered zone Till the returning spring. 24 SONGS BY THE WAY. The gentle, shy leporidoe, When autumn takes its flight, Throws off its homely garb of grey And dons its robe of white. The marmot and the drowsy bear, By keener instinct led. Have g'one to seek their winter lair And make their cosy bed. Let man take heed e'er winter come In wild and surly mood. And well secure his peaceful home That blasts mav not intrude. Store up the fuel in full supply In some convenient spot ; Then in the wet it shall be dry. And in the cold be hot Pick up the tools that lie around — Let everything be neat ; So, when the snow shall heap the ground, We'll have a safe retreat, Where we may sit and pass the hours Till icy winter goes, A.nd spring comes back with genial showers To melt the frozen snows. SONGS BY THE WAY, 25 THE SEA OF LIFE. When the ocean's face is calm and clear I delight in the tiny skiff to steer ; But when angry winds rush through the sky And crested waves are tossed on high, And I fling to the breeze the snow-white sail. While the laggard oar through the tide I trail : Then I seek for the ship that, with safest ease. Ploughs her steadfast course through the raging seas; Or, safer still, seek the sheltering rock. Where I need not fear the tempest's shock. And so, when the skies of life's coast are fair. And there broods o'er my mind nor cloud nor care, A sprightly friend, with an air of ease. May suit me well on sunny seas ; But when the storms of life beat high I seekthe Pilot whose unerring eye Can lead my barque o'er the stormy main Till I reach the haven of rest again. Forgive, dear Lord, if my heart should cling Too close to any earthly thing ; For the heart will crave a mortal friend On whom in life he may depend : Still, 'tis Thine arm alone can save The weary soul on the sin tossed wave. CONSCIENCE. I hear a voice ! it speaks to me Of what I am or ought to be. It gently whispers in my ear When busy crowds of men are near. 26 SONGS BY THE WAY. Or speaks in still a louder tone When I am left with self alone ; And though to me that voice is plain, No other ear can catch its strain. It speaks to all, yet none can hear Its impress on another's ear ; It soothes my mind when in di^n'ess, And fills my soul with tenderness. And when my heart shrinks back with fear It speaks of duty, stern and clear. O ! may I still its warning heed : Be pure in thought, in word and deed. FLEETING JOYS. I sat upon the restless river's brink And watched the foam bells rising, one by one- A moment float, then quickly burst and sink Amid the mass of waters hurrying on. And as they fell, still other bubbles rose In quick s iccession on the drifting tide; In some still covert they did find repose. Or chased each other in an eddying ride. 'Tis thus, I mused, our hopes and joys abide Like evanescent bells upon the stream ; We fondly grasp them, but, alas! they^lide, And leave us nought but memory or a dream. SONGS BY THE WAY. TAKEN FOR A TRAMP. Ah ! the world is dark and dreary, And my limbs grow weak and weary, As, toward the close of day, On a dusty road I travel, Vainly seeking to unravel Where to-night, perchance, Til sta^. Ere the sun I left my pillow. In my hand a sturdy willow : Thus my journey was begun. One short hour at noon for resting And a scanty meal digesting : Then to tread till setting sun. Often men appear suspicious, Sometimes act a part malicious As I stand before their door ', And at evening oft denying Simply room enough for lying On an uninviting floor. How I feel the world is hardened 1 Yet I wish it freely pardoned For the way it uses me ; But my lot is hard in bearing When, with others' lot comparing, Equity I cannot see. Am I not as good as others Who are only but my brothers, And are born of kindred mould } 27 28 SONGS BY THE WAY. Oh, the bitter, bitter wailing ! My complaint how unavailing ! Shall my manhood thus be sold ? Let it pass— I shall requite them. Though I do not mean to spite them ; Yet they certainly shall know There has passed a man of letters, Rightly judged, one of their betters, Though he did not make a show. It may be that my appearance Actually had some adherence To the role of vagrant men ; But where is all the boasted 'cuteness And the wonderful astuteness That the world in guessing claim. That they could not tell a teacher, Or a plain and honest preacher, From an ordinary cad. Though at first it is provoking, Yet really, in the way of joking. It is not so very bad. Ilili;;;! THE POET'S MISTAKE. If I had only thought in youth That I might make a poet, I would have laboured hard, in sooth, To let the world know it. SONGS BY THE WAY. 19 I'd garnered every seed of truth, That broadc'ast I might sow it ; I would have shunned the rude-uncouth That hampers every poet. I would have walked to every shrine And courted all the muses, And sipped the nectar from the vine That happy thought infuses. I would have hailed the grand, the fair, In every clime and nation, That some enchantress' magic wand Might give me inspiration. Let every man in early life Choose out the right profession ; Then, in the competition rife. Be there no retrogression. THE HUMAN HEART. There is not on earth a more delicate thing Than the human heart ; With a breath you can sweep o'er every string Of this wonderful harp. You may lovingly play on its strings every day. Drawing sweetest of tones ; Or, if rudely you play, just as surely you may Bring murmurs and groans. 30 SONGS BY THE WAY. The comforting word or the sunshiny glance In that heart may unfold Such joys as will live unfading, perchance, Throughout eras untold. Through the senses you play on this wonderful harp, That vibrates so oft ; And 'tis ever the same : when the touch is not sharp, Then the tone will be soft. So various the tones so many wires bring — If they shall agree, Let each harper ask what, ere he touches the string, Will the melody be ? A WINTER NIGHT DREAM. I fell asleep one surly night, When winter was severe ; But how it filled me with delight To dream that spring was here. The glowing fire was in my dream Transmitted to the sun ; I thought I felt his cheerful beam Through all my system run. My busy hand was at the plough And scattering the seed ; The fields seemed full of promise now For our approaching need. SONGS BY THE WAY. 31 The peaceful herds contented grazed Upon a hillside green, While fields looked fresh with sunny rays And gentle showers between. I heard the birds' delightful song Rise from the neighbouring bowers, I saw the children play among The tender grass and flowers. Alas ! for it was but a dream Wove on my busy brain ; For, when I woke, another scene Returned to me again. And now I heard the tempests blow In dismal, wild refrain. While wreaths of angry, whirling snow Beat on the window-pane. Without, the cold intensely set On the advent'rous swain. But woe to him who luckless met The blizzard on the plain ! But near my room the kettle steamed Above the blazing fire. Whose cheerful radiance softly beamed To comfort and inspire Thus soothed, I fell to sleep a while — A sweet, sound sleep at last ; Then woke to see the morning smile, For stormy winds were past. 32 SONGS BY THE WAY. 4i! GOOD-WIFE'S SUNDAY NAP. The good-wife sat in a straight-backed chair On a Sunday afternoon, Conning the book of common prayer Or liumming a saintly tune. But the body was worn with toil and care, And nature sought a boon ; The fair enchantress hovered there. And granted the treasure soon. The boon was but a restful sleep She craved at nature's hand, And the drowsy god would not deny Her fair and just demand. Upright she sat, though the heavy head Did forever nod and sway ; But a sudden check of the sinewy neck Kept the pate from flying away. Though urged was she to go to bed For a safer, sweeter rest, " 'Twere wrong to waste the day," she said, With much religious zest. And so she sat and struggled still With the overmastering sleep ; 'Twas hard to change her stubborn will, And as hard her seat to keep. SONGS HY THE WAY. 33 The book would fall from her nerveless hand, With a thump on the wooden floor ; And bring her back from fair dreamland, To a wakeful state once more. Then, with firm resolve and wakeful zeal, She cons her book again ; But a moment more sleep lays his seal On eyes, and ears and brain ; Till tired nature steals the rest . So grudgingly obtained ; And thus, a conqueror confessed. Sleep triumphs in the end. JOHxN'S DISAPPOINTMENT. John wrote some verses on a time, And sent for publication : The censor called them senseless rhyme, Unworthy preservation. His friends pronounced the piece a gem Deserving of a casket ; The censor doomed them to the flame, So tossed them in his basket. And thus the thoughts that stirred his mind, And cost him much devotion. Were to the ruthless flame consigned Without the least emotion. 34 SONGS ]\Y IIIK WAV. How little thinks the man who deals In literature by measure, What poignancy a poet feels When his peculiar treasure Is cast to feed the hungry flames, Or lies in vapid ashes : 'Twere ill for him if John's disdain Descended in loud crashes Upon the poor devoted head That holds such varied learnino: : 'Twere well he had therein, instead, A little more discerning. PIECES WRITTEN IN ALBUMS. As the circling years go round In their still, unceasing flight. May the sweetest music sound Like a voice from worlds of light, Filling to its utmost bound All thy soul with rich delight. How often does the transient thou£rht. When flitting through my memory, Fly on its rapid course to thee. With choicest blessings richly fraught. Seek the truth and follow duty : Each to you a priceless gem. Truth and duty rank in beauty Fairest in Heaven's diadem. SONGS 11 V THE WAY. 35 THE TOOTHACHE. Jolin had the toothache for a week ; He could not drink, he could not eat, He could not laugh, he could not speak. He could not work, he could not sleep. He'd start, he'd wince and twist his face ; He could not stay in any place ; He feared these twinges would deface His sunny smile and youthful grace. *' Oh, bring the panacea quick ! Bring something hot — an iron, a brick ! A mustard poultice — spread it thick ! Or Spanish fly, and warm to stick ! " ** I wish," said he, " Oh, I cannot wish — Although — if I were but a fish — For fishes never suffer pain Unless they're eaten up or slain, " If 'twere not for this awful pain. How good I'd be ! I'd ne'er complain ; I'd laugh, I'd talk, or play or sing ; Do lots of work, do anything " I'd bring you presents, buy you dresses ; I'd take you out to lots of places — But, Oh, it comes I it comes again — This everlasting, stinging pain ! 36 SONGS BY THE WAY. •* I know 'twill kill me, that is sure ; This awful pain I can't endure." And thus went on, with variations, A scene would try an angel's patience. His faithful spouse, with temper sweet, Kept half the night upon her feet In meek attendance on his wishes. And watched him gently, unoflicious. Till h^ vvent softly off to sleep — Refreshing, soothing and delicious ; His weary spouse just took a peep, And found him happy as the fishes. COURTING EPISODE. Joe happened one night, just after the light From the sky had faded away. To go in the dark for a bit of a lark, To a neighbour's just over the way. He knew every nook, he knew every crook Around in the good neighbour's yard ; He knew where his lass should stand at the glass Just after the door had been barred. Then softly he stepped around where she slept, And threw up some sand on the window ; When lo ! all at once he saw at a glance There would be an ugly shindy ; SONGS BY THE WAY. 37 For a great whiskered face appeared at the place Where he looked for the maiden to be ; So he whispered, '* Oh, my ! " and slunk on the sly To whither no mortal might see. But the great dog was loose, so what was the use Of staying around to be bitten ; So he looked not behind, but fled like the wind — Now his heels, not his heart, being smitten. But bad grew his luck, for he soon ran amuck, And fell by the cow- stable door ; For scarce had he risen, when, caught by the weasand, His plight now seemed worse than before. He found the clothes-line had grappled him this time, And 'most cut his throat to the ears ; So the terrible stun did not seem to him fun. For his wounds were as bad as his fears. Then he uttered a yell that rung like a knell, And roused all the folks in the dwelling, Who hurried without, in terror, no doubt. To see what had made such a yelling. But before they could see whate'er it might be He was safe at his own cottage door ; But after this war he carried a scar That showed for six weeks or more, Now, all ye young men, take advice from my pen : If you e'er intend to go wooing. Go early at eve, with all the folks leave. Not ashamed of what you are doing. 38 SONGS RY THE WAY. TO H. M. (IN ALBUM.) Youth, like spring, is the time for sowing Precious seeds of love and truth, And the choicest time for growing Is the sunny days of youth. Ever sowing, weeding, hoeing. Watchful be and wait the growing ; Harvest time will come ere long With its fruit, its joy and song. THE CONTEST. This life hath joy, but 'tis mixed with sorrow, As storms o'ercast the summer sky ; Hope reigns to-day, but before to-moTOW Grief's bitter tears may dim the eye. And earth hath hope, but how oft the shadows Flit o'er our path and dim the light, As the mountain climber, in the hour of gladness, Is wrapt in mists like the gloom of night. The earth hath good, but the evil lurketh ; All purest things have their alloy. The saint may pray, but the villain worketh, And vilest deeds may despoil our joy. Earth hath friends, but how oft they vanish, As many ills our paths overflow : How hard it is hard thoughts to banish When smiling friend becomes a foe. SONGS BY THE WAY, 39 On earth we meet, but alas, the parting ! When the last fond word we sadly speak Leaves the bleeding heart in anguish smarting, And sad, sad tears on the pallid cheek. The earth hath love, yet envy howleth By night and through the livelong day ; Round the beautiful home this demon prowleth Like a hungry beast in search of prey. 'Twixt good and ill is a warfare raging ; The noise of battle we can hear ; 'Twixt joy and grief is a contest waging, 'Twixt life and death, 'twixt hope and fear. How sweet 'twill be, when the warfare's over, To lay our worn-out armour by ; When above us the angel of peace shall hover, With not a cloud in all the sky. For life shall then in the contest gain, And hope forever there abide ; Fair virtue then shall sovereign reign. And joy be ever at her side. MAN WAS NOT MADE TO MOURN. This world is not, as poets sing, A gloom-enshrouded bourne, Where ph-asures flee on frighted wing. And man is doomed to mourn. 40 SONGS BY THE WAY. A thousand mercies crown each day ; Ten thousand every year Come trooping o'er our daily way To fill our hearts with cheer. And he whose heart is half attuned, With grateful feelings borne, Will sing like woodland choirs in June, Nor ever stop to mourn. A thousand beauties meet the eye Where'er our footsteps stray ; The vale and hill, the stream and sky, Their varied charms display. Yet, should misfortunes come our way. On gloomy wings upborne. We need not ask them once to stay, Nor at their presence mourn. The hurrying stream, the glassy lake. And even the ocean storm, Have beaut), grandeur, that should make Our hearts forget to mourn. That man is blind to earth, whose eyes Can not see beauties form. Look up to the inviting skies — No more look down and mourn ! The man who flies to haunts of vice. Or treats