.V* V* ¥ 
 
 
 ■■^-■- 
 
SYLVICOLA : 
 
 (J iJlc/UoJ ^/fyyCt-Jj^ ^t^tt/ 
 
 VinMiua, Wlis. 
 
 'Tii TBI wmm. 
 
 BY REV. WILLIAM HAIK.HTON. 
 
 Tlie raiiirt of Heavou mibeeded washeil my head, 
 And Snnim'^r suns theiv burnings on me shf-d ; 
 The Ti'ght d«'\v8 to my choek their cold lips pressed, 
 Thv zephyr \vo(>ed m^ and the storm careased. 
 
 [Hee Introduction. 
 
 VlROgUA, WISCONSIN : 
 
 HENRY CASSON, JR., PRINTER. 
 
 1878. 
 
Thk Vkrnon CorNTV Ck-NSor 
 
 l?()()k, job and I.etter Press Printing Kstablisbment. 
 
 XiRogiA, Wisconsin. 
 
To the dear friends 
 
 Who have encouraged me to 
 
 Publish them, and to all kind readers, 
 
 These Idylls and Fantasies from the heart of 
 
 Canadian backwoods and the Avilds of 
 
 Wisconsin, are aflfe6tionately 
 
 Dedicated by the 
 
 AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I know not what may be the fate of this little book. 1 
 make no appeal to the hearts or sympathies of a kind 
 public, well knowing that it must stand or fall on its own 
 merits or demerits alone. 
 
 I have been solicited to co\k6t in book form the fugitive 
 pieces already published in the local pai)ers, and I have done 
 so without taking time to corred faults. Many of these 
 pieces were written in early boyhood and published in the 
 Canadian papers under the nom de. plume "Svlvicola." 
 So sweet is the impression left on my heart of their recepdon, 
 that 1 have given as the tide of my litde book a name still 
 dear to me. May these songs— faulty as they are— bring to 
 your heart a tithe of the joy they have given mine. 
 
 WILLIAM HAUGHTON. 
 
 Viroqua, Wisconsin, 1878. 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 My little bark, at rest so long, 
 Full freighted with thine own glad song, 
 I launch thee forth on life's wild wave 
 With few to welcome, few to save. 
 What kindly hand on that rough sea 
 Thy pilot and thy guide may be ; 
 ^ What sheltering and responsive breast 
 Will harbor thee and give thee rest ? 
 Yet onward o'er thy journey speed ; 
 Thy message some lone heart may need ; 
 Some hand of thy dear gems may take 
 To bind a brow for love's sweet sake. 
 . . On, and to whom thou comest, tell, 
 O song of mine, we love them well ; 
 , And let thy voice, though rude thou art, 
 Fall as the dew on some i)oor heart. 
 
 ■■■"■' *-"' ■'■" ■'-*'-' ■ •'•■■■■■' ■-.''■ •■■' ■-■, 
 In boyhood's hour I loved the dark green wild, 
 And worshipped Nature even from a child ; 
 By lake and stream and under starry skies 
 I lisped in childhood her wild melodies. 
 My home was in the woodlands ; from a boy 
 I climbed her mountains with exulting joy. 
 Deep in the valley, where the fountain played. 
 Through Summer's hours my lingering feet delayed. 
 

 'I'hc mills of heaven, unheeded, washed my head, 
 
 And Summer's suns their burnings on me shed ; 
 
 The night (knvs to my cheek their cold lips pressed ; 
 
 The zephyr wooed me and the storm caressed. 
 From day to day 1 trod the wild till woke 
 My soul to song, and o'er my vision broke 
 Th- solt enchantment of the poet's dream 
 In that wild vale by Klva's shadowy stream. 
 
 There, on its sheltering bank reclined, 
 'Twas mine the Sylvan Muse to find, 
 And in tliat fountain-cleft retreat 
 I knelt and worshipped at her feet, 
 Till from her pensive eyes to mine 
 There passed a power— a si)ell divine ; 
 •' And dreams that caught their light ft-om heaven 
 Awhile to my rapt heart were given. 
 
 1 plucked the blossoms from .the bough 
 ,' And twined them round her radiant brow; 
 
 ■ Then in love's first outpouring there 
 
 Made the thrilled heart's impassioned prayer. 
 
 "O thou whose magic tones impart 
 Such freshness to my fevered heart ! . 
 Sweet spirit of an angel clime, - -^ .^^ 
 
 - — Of rapturous songs and dreams sublime |^ „-;. 
 , Of starry eyes and seraph brow, 
 
 My beautiful, to thee I bow. 
 
Wouklst thou but touch my heart with fire, 
 My yearning soul to song inspire ; 
 My harp I'll offer at thy shrine- 
 It's sweetest numbers will be thine. 
 Ah, were this heart to thine but pressed. 
 Soft pillowed on that angel breast ; 
 These lips receive from thine the kiss 
 That steeps the soul in dreams of l)liss. 
 Fron-* that sweet dream I'd wake to thrill 
 With music, mountain, vale and rill. 
 
 • 
 
 "Angelic Muse! Nymph of the woodland bowers, 
 Thou lovest to tread where glide the silver streams ; 
 
 Thy sylvan couch is soft with forest flowers 
 Beneath the cedar when the Summer beams. 
 
 Upon this bank beside thee I'd recline 
 
 \Vhere tinted waters kiss thy sandaled feet ; 
 
 That fliir, sweet brow with forest flowers I'd twine, 
 And woo thine eyes till their soft glance I'd meet. 
 
 I'd press for thee the summer fruits and bring 
 
 Their cooling nedar when thy lips are dried ; 
 For thee the heart's most thrilling songs I'd sing 
 ^^ While thou art resting by the fountain side. 
 
 And when thy limbs grow languid in the heat 
 Of Summer's noontide ; where the willows weep 
 
By Elva's fountain would I l)athe thy feet 
 
 And fan thee, fair one, with a branch to sleep." 
 
 She smiled upon me as- she gave 
 The boon she taught my heart to crave. 
 "Had I not claimed thee as my own," 
 She whispered, "me thou hadst not known : 
 Then take this lute, and 1 shall guide 
 Thy wanderings like some fairy bride. 
 I'll tune for thee its rustic strings, 
 And warm thy soul's imaginings ; 
 And thou wilt seek the shady grove, 
 Where hides at noon the amorous dove. 
 Thy feet shall through the valley stray, 
 Where sunbeams on the streamlet play ; 
 And when, with virgin blush, the morn 
 ., Doth kiss the dewdrop from the thorn, 
 
 And in the calm, sweet eventide 
 I'll wander, dear one, by thy side. 
 . Then, take this lute, nor need I tell 
 Of all to which its songs may swell : 
 - Each scene that's wild, sublime or fair, 
 Near Nature's heart, I'll meet thee there ; 
 And if one wreath of honor thou ^ 
 • Wouldst ever bind upon thy brow, 
 „ Go strike that lute with daring hand 
 And sing thine own wild .vestem land." 
 
'Ihat hour is past and (led the scene 
 
 1 loved so long and long must love ; ' 
 There life's enchantment best hath been, 
 There turns my heart where'er 1 rove. 
 The mountain wilds, the vale and lake 
 To song my soul as erst may wake. 
 Time hath not chilled, though time hath worn 
 The lute through many a trial borne, 
 
 l]ut not these scenes alone that shed ■' '; 
 
 Full many a joy now tiuenched and deacl ; 
 
 There love its first sweet treasure gave,'' •;* J; 
 
 There lies my long lost darling's grave.' 
 
 Then onward, O dear gems of song! . 
 My little bark, at rest so long, - . v:' ; ; 
 
 I launch thee forth on life's wild tide, 
 An unseen watcher at thy side, . ' \ ^ 
 And out upon that troubled sea / , 
 Some hearts will hail and welcome thee.. 
 
 
 'TWAS ONLY A SHELL. ; ,. . 
 'Twas only a shell by the river side — 
 
 A tiny and dehcate shell ; • *' >■ 
 
 But twas kissed by the lips of the tinted tide, 
 As it sle]Jt where the pearly waters hide, 
 
 And the sunbeam loved it well. 
 
 But alas for the gem with the delicate dye ! 
 
 ft 
 
 'Twas crushed by the foot of a passer by ; 
 
lo ■■ - ' '■'■-■ '->;: 
 
 No more will it blush to the tinted wave 
 In its sanded bed l)y the whispering cave. 
 
 'Twas only a Uower by the streamlet's brim, 
 
 And it grew in the valley deep ; 
 But 'twas kissed by the dews when the day grew dim 
 In the melting tall of the robin's hymn, 
 
 And the night wind sang it to sleejj. 
 But alas for the gem with its violet dye ! 
 'Twas plucked by the hand of a passer by : 
 No more will it blush to the tinted tide 
 In its grassy bed by the streamlet's side. 
 
 'Twas only the heart of a lowly one — 
 A heart that was tender and true ; 
 So little were left when its trust was gone, 
 Yet sweet was the hope that it leaned u])on, 
 5 * V And strong was the love that it knew. 
 
 But alas for its life ! On a cruel day ; 
 A shadow fell and it wi hered away. 
 V ;' 'Twas a faithless love — 'twas a trust betrayed, 
 
 And the broken heart of a lowly maid. 
 
 O red-lipped shell by the sanded cave ! 
 O violet gem by the tinted wave ! • . 
 
 ^ () trusting heart of a lowly one! 
 
 Away and away from my dream you've gone. 
 Sad types, when the spoiler's hand is nigh. 
 Or the careless foot of a passerby. 
 
II 
 
 VKSPKR SONG. 
 
 Softly o'er the pur j)le tide, 
 
 Like some joyous bird we glide. 
 
 List! what low, sweet echoes break, 
 
 W'cirdlike, o'er the traiKiuil lake. 
 
 Si)arkling midst the tinted spray 
 
 Orient pearls of amber play ; 
 
 On the zephyr steals along 
 
 Music, mingling with our song. 
 O summer eve, delay thy flight, 
 And come not, yet, O starry night ! 
 Thou 'rt beautiful, but ah ! thy brow 
 Would break the spell that's o'er us now. 
 
 Yonder cloud, with sunset dyed, 
 
 J3ends to kiss the purple tide. 
 
 Fainter and yet softer still 
 
 Falls the light on vale and hill. 
 
 Hush the ve-;per song and rest. 
 
 Dreamlike, on the lake's still breast, 
 
 While the day's departing hue 
 
 (iilds those skies of shadowy blue. 
 O summer eve, delay thy flight, 
 And come not yet, ( ) starry night ! 
 Thou 'rt beaut'ful, but ah ! thy brow 
 Would break the spell that's o'er us now. 
 
12 
 
 FORSAKEN AND LONKLV. 
 
 Forsaken and lonely, 
 
 ■ ■/■■■■<■ 
 I've clung to thy breast 
 
 And looked to thee only 
 For solace and rest. - 
 
 'Twas thine to bereave me, 
 'Tis thine to illume ; 
 
 Ah 1 why dost thou leave me 
 To darkness and gloom? 
 
 And then, in mine angiiish, 
 1 he Tempter drew nigh : 
 "''*''' "Why, fool, dost thou languish ? 
 ^ ' * ■ * Go, curse Him, and die! 
 The cup that He dashes 
 
 In anger, was sweet : ' ' 
 Will the heart when in ashes' 
 Still Dlead at His feet ?"' ''-^ 
 
 Ah Father! unhxiMed* ; • '^ 
 ,*• ' The Temjoter stood near — - 
 In sorrow I've i^leaded, ' ^ 
 
 And wilt thou not hear ? ' 
 Thine hand hath pursued nie ; 
 
 All, all, I resign ! 
 When thou hast sulxlued me 
 
 Let mercy be thine. 
 
u 
 
 ForsaktMi and lonely, 
 1 cling to thy breast, 
 
 And look to thee only 
 ■ Tor solace and rest. 
 
 'Twas thine to bereave me 
 'Tis thine to illume ; 
 
 Ah ! why dost thou leave me 
 To darkness and gloom ? 
 
 -> -^i^t- « 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Song bird on the leafy bough, 
 Wherefore silent? Fly not now. ., , 
 Stay, () stay ! no foe is near thee ; a 
 
 Sing, sweet bird, my heart would hear thee ; 
 Something of thy joy 't would borrow 
 In this hour of bitter sorrow. : • ^ 
 
 , Warbler on the leafy bough. 
 
 Wherefore silent? Fly not now. 
 
 \ Hast thou not some strain to melt 
 
 Sorrow when 'tis deeply felt ? 
 When the darkness gathers round us. 
 When its damp, cold bands have bound us. 
 When a weary watch we 're keeping 
 For the dawn that mocks our weeping, 
 Hast thou not some strain to melt . 
 1 ,oneliness, so deeply felt ? 
 
J4 
 
 ' Would, sweet bird, thou hadst the skill 
 My dull heart with thine to thrill ; 
 Would that music, melting o'er me, 
 ( )ne lost treasure could restore me; ' 
 ;; )■ Then, O bird, how I'd caress thee; 
 
 With my heart of hearts I'd bless thee. 
 Wouldst thou had the mystic skill 
 My dull heart with thine to thrill. 
 
 , . Love beside me dying lies, 
 
 Pleading with her mournful eyes. 
 Long she watched and long she waited, 
 Weeping, while with sorrow matM ; 
 Mine the hand each link to sever, 
 Till I crushed her heart forever. 
 Love beside me dying lies, 
 Anguish in her mournful eyes. 
 
 Ah ! sweet bird upon the bough, 
 Wake thy saddest music now ; — 
 
 When we're desolate and lonely, 
 
 Sorrow's song can soothe us only. 
 
 Such a watch my heart is keeping. 
 
 I would have some song of weeping: '. 
 Lovely bird upon the bough, 
 Wake thy saddest music now 
 
15 
 
 
 ' WRITTEN IN i860. ' 
 
 : Wail #br the hero gone, 
 ■ O slave ! 
 
 Wail for the hero gone ! 
 Like a rock which the tempest breaks upon 
 He stood, while the might of his heart alone 
 Heat back the giant wave. 
 
 — Weep for the hero dead, 
 
 slave ! 
 Weep for the hero dead ' 
 Sublime was the dream for which he bled. 
 Be a martyr's crown on the hoary head 
 , Asleep in a felon's grave. 
 
 Mourn for the hero lost, 
 slave I 
 
 Mourn for the hero lost ! 
 By that awful line in the landmark crossed 
 Will freedom rise where the gage is tossed 
 
 To burst thy bonds and save ! 
 
 Wake for the bold heart hushed, 
 O song! 
 
 Wake for the bold heart hushed, 
 For the victim's blood that nobly gushed, 
 For the captive wounded, chained and crushed, 
 
 For a ])eople's shame and wrong ! 
 
i6 
 
 A i.rrrLK klbovv room. 
 
 (iood friend, don't crowd so, very light ; 
 
 There's room enough for two. 
 I've got a fancy I've the right 
 
 To live as well as you. 
 You're rich and strong — I ])oor and weak, 
 
 Jkit think you 1 presume 
 When only this poor boon I seek — 
 
 A litde elbow room ? 
 
 'Tis such as you — the rich and strong — 
 
 If you had but the will, ... -, - . 
 Could give the weak a lift along 
 
 And help him up the hill ; 
 But, no ; you jostle, crowd and strive ; 
 
 You storm, you fret and fume : 
 Are you the only man alive 
 
 In need of elbow room ? 
 
 But thus it is on life's rough i)ath — 
 
 Self seems the god of all ; 
 The strong will crush the weak to death. 
 
 The big devour the small. 
 Far better ])e a rich man's hound, 
 
 A valet, serf or groom, 
 Than struggle midst the mass around 
 
 Without some elbow room. 
 
Up heart, my boy ! Don't mind the shocks ; J 
 
 Up heart, and push along. v ■ 
 
 Your hide will soon grow tough with knocks, 
 
 Your limbs with labor strong ; 
 And there's a hand unseen to aid, ' """^--w 
 
 A lamp to light the gloom. :•; . _ : 
 
 Up heart, my boy, nor be dismayed, ; - 
 
 But strike for elbow room ! 
 
 And if you see, amid the throng, 
 
 Some fellow toiler slip. 
 Just give him, as you pass along, 
 
 A brave and kindly grip. 
 Let noble deeds, where'er you be, 
 
 Your way in life illume, 
 And with true Christain charity 
 
 Give others elbow room. 
 
 And you, my friend, behind whose back 
 
 A dozen hands do wait 
 To help you on the up-hill track, 
 
 Right to the golden gate. 
 Just have a little manly pluck ; 
 
 Your own true strength assume. 
 The brave heart never waits for luck, 
 
 Or weeps for elbow room. 
 
 I'm struggling on with might and main, 
 An altered, better man. 
 
i8 
 
 Grown w ise from many a b)-gone pain 
 And many a broken plan. . 
 
 Though l)ruised by many a kickless fall, 
 Half blinded in the gloom, 
 
 I'll up and I'll redeem it all ! 
 But give me elbow room. 
 
 CX)I) BLESS THEM. '■ ' 
 
 Ciod bless the noble hand that brings - 
 
 Assistance to the poor and weak ; 
 That binds affection's Ijroken strings 
 
 And wipes the tear from sorrow's cheek. 
 God bless the kindly lips that name 
 
 Another's fault with tenderness ; 
 That hide one-half the woridvvould blame 
 
 And soften all they must express, 
 
 God bless the loving eyes that see 
 
 The brighter side of every deed ; 
 That gild with holy charity . " 
 
 ^Vhat others oft too harshly read. 
 O kindly heart and noble hand, ■ ■ 
 
 Yours is the work that angels do ; 
 Yours to fulfill the sweet command : 
 
 " Go and with love the wodd suMue." 
 
 X 
 
»9 
 
 SUMMER SONG. . 
 
 The breathing bahn, the soft perfume 
 Of beauty bursting into bloom ; 
 The dewy morn, the starry night, . 
 The blending waves of shadowy Ifght; 
 The cloud of e verchanging hue, 
 The tramiuil heavens so deeply blue, 
 The blushing buds upon the spray— 
 - These are thy gifts, O Sun ner^day ! :^ i;^ 
 
 Sweet Spring, in all her glory dressed— 
 Young Summer leaning on her breast, 
 Crowned with a wreath of opening flowers. 
 Fanned by the breath of southern bowers ; 
 The bird's wild carol from the bough. 
 The' haze upon the mountain's brow. 
 The peace, the joy, the flooding light 
 Thrill the rapt heart and charm the sight. 
 
 What hand luit thine, O thou Supreme ! 
 Could paint the sunbeam on that stream ? 
 Could give the pearly dew its light. 
 Or flood with gems tl.e starry night ? 
 Could wake the myriad joys that throng 
 In breeze or bower or wild bird's song, 
 More rapturous than a seraph's dream ? 
 What hand but thine, O thou Supreme? 
 
**-, 
 
 20 . ; _ ■ ^ . ■ 
 
 Thou comest iii the rushing storm, 
 When terrors robe thine awful form ; 
 When quivering lightnings round thee meet 
 And thunder crouches at thy feet ; 
 When at thy beck wild tempests sweep 
 And shriek along the howling deep, 
 And the mad waves in terror rise, 
 Their white lips pleading with the skies. 
 
 Less glorious, but how fair, art thou, 
 When robed and crowned as thou art now ; 
 Not the wild anthem of the storm, 
 Nor pitchy darkness round thy form, - 
 But light and joy and peace serene, — 
 The heavens so blue, the earth so green. 
 What hand but thine, C) thou Supreme ! 
 Could paint that ilower or gild that stream ! 
 
 He loves not heaven who loves not thee, 
 O wealth of Summer scenery ! 
 From whose cold breast no echoes start 
 Responsive to thine own full heart. 
 To me, that land where angels throng 
 Is rich with verdure and with song. 
 And every dream of heaven is bright 
 With earth's dear love, its life and light. 
 
vVv-^:'. STANZAS.""' ' - : '■ ■ 
 
 Hail sacred star of Zion's hill ! 
 
 Light of all lands divine ; 
 Thy holy twilight lingers still, ^ 
 
 Soft gilding many a shrine. ". . 
 
 And many a heart is backward turned 
 
 With kindling joy to where .. ^ 
 
 judea's templed altar burned ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 And prophets knelt in prayer. „^ 
 
 How sweetly woke that harp of old, ^ ^ 3 
 
 How soft its cadence fell CS O 
 
 O'er many a mountain shepherd's fold ^ ^ 
 
 By Sharon's flowery dell. ^ 
 
 And music, as of far-off heaven. 
 
 Is round us melting still, • • •■ 
 Like murmurs of thy brook, rock-riven. 
 
 By Kedron's holy rill; ;.,..,;.;.:/ 
 
 While echoes, breathing soft and low. 
 
 Through slumbering years awake, 
 Where Jordan's restless waters flow 
 
 By (Galilee's sweet lake. 
 
 Dear symbols, softly shadowing Him 
 
 Who once these mountains trod — 
 The lowly "Babe of Bethlehem," 
 
 The suftering "Lamb of God." 
 
22 
 
 star of Zion's sacred hill ! ' , 
 Light of all lands divine ; 
 
 - Thy holy twilight lingers still / " 
 And many a heart is thine. 
 
 » ■«#»■ « 
 
 HOME SONG— IN MEMORY OF LAKE HURON. 
 
 Though other climes are wondrous fair 
 
 And beautiful to me, 
 And m its tracery everywhere ' 
 
 The Maker's hand I see ; ." ~ 
 
 But O the power 
 Of twilight's hour 
 On such an eve would wake 
 My soul to sweeter, nobler song • 
 
 By grand old Huron's lake. /v ' * 
 
 1 miss the quiet of thy woods; a ^ 
 The sunset o'er thy hills ; ^ ^i I ' ■"; 
 
 : y f The grandeur of thy solitudes; . * 
 
 / / The music of thy rills. 
 
 There's not a scene 
 ^ ; - Where'er I've been 
 
 So beautiful to me, 
 And when I'd sing the songs of old, 
 I turn, dear home, to thee. 
 
 Through many a scene I've wandered long. 
 
23 
 
 And still my feet may roam, ; 
 
 Since first I left that land of song— , 
 My native island home. 
 Yet dearer still 
 The rock and rill, 
 The mountain and the brake, ^ ^ . 
 The maple on thy sunny hills, . , , 
 Afar by Huron's lake. - 
 
 I'd linger on thy golden strand, 
 
 And by thy waters rest, 
 To watch the waves that kiss thy sand, 
 The sea bird on thy breast ; 
 While music sweet, 
 ; : With love replete, 
 As in the by-gone years, 
 Would lull my heart to happiness 
 And fill mine eyes with tears. 
 
 There's not a plaintive bird that sings ; 
 
 There's not a flower that blows. 
 But o'er my yearning spirit brings 
 The pang an exile knows. 
 There's little left 
 I'y time micleft, 
 Yet memory's sweetest hours 
 Will linger by thy mountain streams 
 And midst thine own wild bowers. 
 
24 
 
 Farewell, my home, my own dear land ! 
 
 So blessed from shore to shore : 
 May Freedom's high and holy hand 
 Protect thee evermore. 
 My song shall be 
 Inscribed to thee, 
 My inspiration take 
 Its beauty from thy pine -clad hills 
 And Huron's dark blue lake. 
 
 AD MEAM MUSAM. 
 
 Come, my old harp — in other days 
 We trilled some wild and stirring lays. 
 Though rude our songs, yet fall and free 
 We poured untaught our minstrelsy ; 
 And there were hearts that heard and felt 
 Our music oft could soothe and melt ; 
 Could fall entranced on beauty's ear. 
 And wake the sigh and win the tear. 
 Through Keppel's shades — by Huron's strand- 
 1 swept thee with unsparing hand ; 
 hy Klva's lonely stream i gave 
 'I'hy music to the trembling wave. 
 
 Why are thy nuaibers; hushed, () lute? 
 Why hang thy chords untuned and mute. 
 
25 
 
 When myriad voices call to thee 
 With nature's matchless melody. 
 Here still the morn thy songs invite — 
 The parting eve, the starry night — 
 The fragrant vale, the leafy hill, 
 The lake, the mountain and the rill : 
 Here where Itasca's gorgeous lake 
 With glory burns — awake, awake ! 
 Where Mississippi's waters roll 
 Are scenes to warm and nerve the soul. 
 
 Wt love the land whose kindly breast 
 A welcome gave and bade us rest. 
 Her patriot songs, her birds and Howers, 
 Her mountains and her lakes are ours. 
 No stranger wanders to her heart, 
 Then longs to leave it and depart; 
 Her generous grasp is round him thrown- 
 She wins and wears him as her own. 
 O heaven blessed land I from sea to sea. 
 From isle to isle, they throng to thee : 
 They come, thy noblest boons to share — 
 Enough for all and yet to spare. 
 
 In boyhood's years we loved to tell 
 Of how her heroes fought and fell ; 
 How met the dark oppressor's pride — 
 heat back his hosts and, conquering, died. 
 
26 
 
 We loved to trace her history o'er, 
 "And longed to tread her sacred shore; 
 To feel the liberty she gave 
 And find near her great heart a grave. 
 For me, when 1 her name forget — 
 The welcome on these shores I met — 
 May I an ingrate wandering roam, 
 An ou^^cast from the joys of home. 
 
 ;:.'/.5v^. . NINA. 
 
 A SUMMER IDYLL. 
 
 A maiden sang beside the sea, 
 
 Bathing in the briny wave, 
 While the mermaid joyously 
 
 Calls her from its lowly cive : 
 "Maiden of the violet e} es, 
 
 Maiden of the golden hair, 
 Gently from the summer skies 
 
 C'omes the morning soft and fair ; 
 Dancing on the sunlit sea 
 Comes the morn to welcome thee. 
 
 "Linger, maiden, by the wave ; 
 
 J,inger by the sunlit sea," 
 Softly from her lowly cave 
 
 Calls the mermaid's voice to thee. 
 "Maiden of the violet eyes, 
 
 Brow so pure and cljeek so fair. 
 
27 
 
 Morning from the summer skies 
 Comes to kiss thy golden hair. 
 Linger by the sunlit sea," 
 Calls the mermaid's voice to thee. 
 
 Nina of the golden hair ; 
 Nina beautiful and fair ; 
 Sweeter than the breath of morn, 
 Purer than the rose new born. 
 (,) the dream that brought thee nigh. 
 Child of ideality ! 
 Lent thee to my heart awhile, 
 With that form, that brow, that smile, 
 Peerless in the grace they wore, 
 1 could bless forevermore, » 
 
 Straying as I've seen thee stray, 
 Near the fountain's tinted spray. 
 Dreaming by the streamlet's side 
 In the peaceful eventide. 
 Though the mystic chain is cleft, 
 Such enchantment still is left ; 
 Memory sings her song to me, 
 Nina by the sunlit sea. 
 Humbly born, of lowly race. 
 But pure of heart and fair of face, 
 Hers but a peasant's life, but then 
 Most blest was Nina of the glen. 
 She loved to ramble on the hills 
 And dream beside the mountain rills. 
 
2S 
 
 Hers were not dreams of that great life 
 With gilded toil and feverish strife; 
 But those of balmy summer skies 
 ^Vhere blade or blossom never dies ; 
 Of waves soft rippling on the shore, 
 Kissing the sea-shells o'er and o'er ; 
 The ione sail on the far blue sea, 
 The song bird on the leafy tree, 
 The violet hiding by the stream— 
 Of these did gentle Nina dream. 
 Nina of the golden hair, 
 Nina pure and bright and fair. 
 
 E'en the woodnymph sang and sighed 
 ^Tenderly, when she was near, 
 Bending where the bluebells hide 
 By the streamlet soft and clear ; 
 Still more sweedy sang each bird 
 When the maiden's voice was heard : 
 
 "Maiden by the sanded stream, 
 
 By the joyous fountain straying, 
 
 Soft as summer's parting beam. 
 
 Sweet as summer's sunlight playing 
 
 Round that cheek with fond caresses 
 
 Through those silken soft brown tresses. 
 
 • 
 "Maiden by the streamlet's side, 
 
 Loveliest of earth's fairest daughters, 
 
29 
 
 Bending where the violets hide, 
 
 Bathing in those pearly waters, 
 Linger for the songs we sing thee, 
 For the jjleasant tales we bring thee. 
 
 "E'en the waves that wash thy feet 
 
 Blush and journey onward, bringing 
 To each laughing flower they meet. 
 
 To each wild bird gaily singing, 
 Tales of thee and where ,thou rovest, 
 Of the scenes and songs thou lovest. 
 
 "Linger in the quiet glen ; 
 
 Linger still, () maiden, near us ; 
 Songs of love we'll sing thee when 
 
 Thou art weary and thou 'It hear us. 
 When the twilight dews are falling 
 To our sylvan lovers calling." 
 
 In a pleasant cottage mid 
 Spreading chestnuts and half-hid 
 Underneath the vine whose leaves 
 Pressed their soft lips to the eaves. 
 Dwelt fair Nina. Day by day. 
 Through the summer time, she'd stray, 
 Selling to the rich and fair 
 Flowers and shells of beauty rare. 
 Watch her coming through the trees. 
 When the evening's soft-lipped breeze 
 
30 
 
 Wanders by her cheek and h^ir, 
 Leaving many a warm kiss there. 
 
 Nina, many a (jueenly brow 
 To that gentle head might bow, 
 Longing midst their gems to trace 
 Half thy beauty, half thy grace; 
 Many a lordly knight might sue 
 
 Fervendy at thy dear feet 
 For that heart so pure and true, 
 
 For thot love so rich and sweet. 
 Knight, or swain, or lady fliir, 
 Loved to kiss thy golden hair, 
 Bent with longing hearts to thee, 
 Nina of the silver sea. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 Nina of the golden hair, 
 Lovelit brow and cheek so fair, 
 Softer than the breath of morn. 
 Red lipped as the rose new born, 
 
 the dream that brought thee nigh, 
 Child of ideality ! 
 
 Lent thee to my heart awhite, 
 
 With that brow, that cheek, that smile, 
 
 Matchl'.^ss in the grace they wore, 
 
 1 could bless foreveniiore. 
 Lovely as I saw thee first, 
 Where the joyous fountain burst, 
 
MY BOYHOOD AND YOUTH, 23 
 
 day: breakfast at twelve o'clock, after labouring 
 from daylight, and supper when the work of the 
 remainder of the day was over. In harvest season 
 we had three. Our dress was of tow-cloth ; for the 
 children, nothing but a shirt ; for the older ones a 
 pair of pantaloons or a gown in addition, according 
 to the sex. Besides these, in the winter a round 
 jacket or overcoat, a wool-hat once in two or three 
 years, for the males, and a pair of coarse shoes once 
 a year. 
 
 We lodged in log huts, and on the bare ground. 
 Wooden floors were an unknown luxury. In a 
 single room were huddled, like cattle, ten or a dozen 
 persons, men, women, and children. All ideas of 
 refinement and decency were, of course, out of the 
 question. We had neither bedsteads, nor furniture 
 of any description. Our beds were collections of 
 straw and old rags, thrown down in the corners and 
 boxed in with boards ; a single blanket the only 
 covering. Our favourite way of sleeping, however, 
 was on a plank, our heads raised on an old jacket 
 and our feet toasting before the smouldering fire. 
 The wind whistled and the rain and snow blew in 
 through the cracks, and the damp earth soaked in 
 the moisture till the floor was miry as a pig-sty. 
 Such were our houses. In these wretched hovels 
 were we penned at night, and fed by day ; here were 
 the children born and the sick — neglected. 
 
 Notwithstanding this system of management I 
 grew to be a robust and vigorous lad. At fifteen 
 years of age there were few who could compete 
 with me in work or sport. I was as lively as a 
 
2>2 
 
 Jim had chances like us all, 
 And, like some, he took them. 
 
 But at every idler's call — 
 
 P>ery trip, or slip, or fall — 
 Jim too soon forsook them. 
 
 Search the wide world o'er and o'er, 
 
 Jim is like too many more. 
 
 Jim they took the other day. 
 
 With cross-questions crammed him ; 
 
 Jim could neither plead nor pay — 
 
 Justice would not brook delay, 
 And into jail they jammed him. 
 
 Canada this rule has set : 
 
 Your cash or carcass for your debt. 
 
 O luckless, reckless, thoughdess Jim ! 
 
 When Dame Fortune failed you, 
 Friends looked wise and wondrous prim. 
 Called you "dunce" and "devil's limb-" 
 
 Better had they bailed you. 
 Than leave you there to rust and rot, ' 
 Half fed, half famished and forgot. ' 
 
 Gentle reader, I'll be bound 
 That you think you know him. 
 
 Next time that your rhymer 's round, 
 
 If the urchin's out of pound. 
 When you like he'll show him; 
 
 Then, to please the devil still, 
 Kick him further down the hill. 
 
33 
 
 WILD FLOWERS. 
 
 They cfime to kiss the sunshine, 
 
 They spring to meet the showers, 
 Unnoticed by the wayside, 
 
 These simple sweet wild Howers. 
 They blossom in the valley. 
 
 They bloom upon the hill, 
 And God's own hand hath touched them 
 With more than matchless skill. 
 
 No scene on earth so lonely. 
 
 No spot so wild and drear, 
 If kissed by sunlight only. 
 
 The wild flower blossoms there. 
 They yield their stores of nectar 
 
 To bless the murmuring bees, 
 And shed abroad their sweetness 
 Upon the wandering breeze. 
 
 When but a child I loved them 
 
 And passed the summer long. 
 Where violets decked the meadow 
 And birds were wild with song ; 
 And when 1 see them springing 
 
 In beauty o'er the plain, 
 1 bless them still for bringing 
 My childhood back again. 
 
34 
 
 () violet by the fountain, 
 Sweet gem, surpassing fair ! 
 
 C) wild rose in the mountain, 
 
 - Kissed by the summer air! 
 
 I've twined you midst the tresses 
 Of childhood's sunny brow. 
 
 Sweet type of pure caresses, 
 (Jone and forever now. 
 
 'TIS A BEAUTIFUL WORLD OF OURS. 
 I called to a bird on the wing, 
 
 And he slopped for awhile in his flight, 
 Then I heard the sweet song that I sing. 
 
 As it trembled through shadow and light : 
 "There is joy in the soft summer breeze. 
 
 There is beauty amidst th wild bovvers," 
 And an answer came back from the trees — 
 " 'Tis a beautiful world of ours." 
 
 I said to a streamlet that played 
 
 With the sunbeams the midsummer long, 
 "O linger awhile in the shade 
 
 And teach me, sweet fountain, thy song." 
 It laughed in the sunlight and then 
 It blushed as it kissed the wild flowers, 
 . And tenderly whispered again, 
 " 'Tis a beautiful world of ours." 
 
35 
 
 I called to the zephyr that sighed 
 
 Through the blossoms that peeped from the bough 
 "O breath of the soft summer tide, 
 
 What message of sweetness hast thou?" : r 
 "I have dashed the perfume from th- spray, 
 , I have reveled mid sunshine and showers, 
 And I've learned this sweet song far away— 
 ' 'Tis a beautiful world of ours.' " 
 
 O heart, canst thou longer repine, 
 
 Or weep for the mildew and blight ; 
 Let the song that thou hearest be thine— 
 
 Its sweetness, its rapture and light : 
 There is joy in the soft summer breeze, 
 
 There is beauty amidst the green bowers ; 
 There is peace in the whispering trees— 
 
 'Tis a beautiful world of ours." 
 
 (( 
 
 PRAISE BE THINE FOREVER. 
 
 Praise' be thine forever, 
 
 (;od of Israel's might ; 
 Thou of life'the" giver, 
 Thou of life the light ! 
 Well may ransomed 'throngs adore thee— 
 Angels prostrate fall before thee. 
 
36 
 
 liut a holier feeling 
 
 Kindled from above, 
 O'er us softly stealing, ' 
 
 Whispers thou art love. 
 'Tis the song that mercy gave us, < 
 ''lis that Jesus died to save us. 
 
 Love so condescending, 
 
 Pity all divine, 
 Mercy never ending, 
 Father, these are thine, 
 Fall they not a heavenly token 
 O'er the spirit bruised and broken. 
 
 In the conflict, dearer 
 
 Than in joy thou art ; 
 Sorrow brings thee nearer. 
 Closer to the heart. 
 Trial comes that we may prove thee — 
 Burdened most, then most we love thee. 
 
 Praise I)*, thine forever, 
 
 God of Israel's might ; 
 Thou of life the giver, 
 I'hou of life the light. 
 Angels prostrate bow before thee — 
 Well may ransomed throngs adore thee. 
 
37 
 
 PADDY TO HIS PIPK. 
 
 Come hither, me cutty and comfort me shtill, 
 
 And if ye be faithful and worthy, 
 I'll give your defamers a dab o' me ciuill. 
 
 And I'll write an apology for thee. 
 
 Our comfort in trouble-a frind in our need- 
 Our help when the muse we're invokm' ; 
 
 O the sweet consolation that lies in the weed, 
 O the exciuisite pleasure of smokin' ! 
 
 When bothered by care till me sinses are bowed 
 
 And me janius to poverty driven, 
 I light thee and puff till me head's in a cloud 
 
 And 1 fancy I'm half way in heaven. 
 
 The best ov invintions, the highest ov arts, 
 \ joy and a beauty have made thee ; 
 
 On thee have they lavished the love of their hearts- 
 In silver and gems they've arrayed thee. 
 
 Yet O, me ould dudheen, though sooty thou art,. 
 
 Though delicate lips might not press thee, 
 More dear than is Biddy to Paddy's ould heart, 
 
 With deeper delight he'll caress thee. 
 
6^ 
 
 He loves thy sweet incinsCj all fragrant and soft, 
 Though foes ov thy downfall are schamin', 
 
 In wreaths ov enchantment it rises aloft, 
 And leaves him ov blessedness dramin'. 
 
 A pen in me fisht and a pipe in me jaw, 
 
 What beautiful fancies come o'er me ; 
 All the world looks fair, with no fault and no flaw. 
 
 And the brightness ov life is befce me. 
 
 I'm thinkin' the gods in ould times must have know'n 
 This solace long hid from the shtupid. 
 
 For they smoked from ould Jupiter, up on his throne. 
 Right down to that urchin, young C^ipid. 
 
 And Venus, the darlint, sat squat at her ease, 
 
 While Paris his fun was a pokin', 
 A pipe in her gob and her arms on her knees, 
 
 As she gave him a lesson in schmokin'. 
 
 The weed, O the weed ! may it flourish, say 1, 
 May it comfort all bards who invoke it; 
 
 May it bless them who make it, who sell it and l)uy, 
 And, best of all, bless them who smoke it. 
 
 Avaunt, all ye croakers! A word ere I close: 
 
 Be this dudheen all grimy and yellow. 
 Just show me a chap with a coal at his nose 
 
 And I'll show you a prince of a fellow. 
 
39 
 TO H. C, ON HIS 67TH BIRTHDAY. 
 
 A TRIBUTE FROxM HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 If gratitude and love combined 
 
 A language of the soul could hnd ; 
 
 If from the heart we migiit express 
 
 Its livmg wealth of tenderness, 
 
 'I'hen, father, could these words impart 
 Love's own sweet message to thy heari:. 
 
 Aftection ever brings thee near, 
 
 And bathes thy memory with a tear. 
 
 We breathe thy name, and lingering dwell 
 
 On scenes of old, remembered well, 
 And when in prayer we bend the knee 
 Our nearts seemed linked to heaven and thee. 
 
 That life which no base action knew— 
 So pure, so blameless and so true- 
 Around us ^heds a holy power 
 And shields us in temptation's hour. 
 What could a child from father claim 
 More sacred than a spodess name ? 
 
 God bless thee, father ! On thy way 
 
 May no dark shadow fall or stray ; 
 
 May love and peace and joy l)e given 
 
 To light thy journey on to heaven, 
 And all that true affection bears 
 Ik round thee in thy tailing years. 
 
40 
 
 (J how we love to linger on 
 I'he dear old memories past and gone ; 
 To breathe thy name and speak of thee 
 In all thy sweet nobility. 
 
 I'liou 'rt treasured \n our heart's deep core. 
 
 vioil DJess thee, lather, evermore. 
 
 I'he honest brow, the tender sjiiile, 
 
 The heart that knew no fear or guile ; 
 
 'Ihe generous hand extended wide, 
 
 The sympathy to none denied, 
 
 1 he love that only light could see, 
 1 hese were the gifts of heaven to thee. 
 
 How lorg and nobly didst thou hght 
 ]n mercy's cause for manhood's right, 
 And in the conHict fierce and long. 
 Thy heart was brave, thy hand was strong. 
 Dear Freedom found a willing shrine 
 In that true Saxon heart of thine. 
 
 Dear lather, when thy prayers are poured 
 
 'I'o Him so loved, so long adored, 
 
 Still lift thy constant heart and pray 
 
 for those beloved and far away. 
 
 u may, through all life's changeful hours, 
 Our father's faith and (rod be ours. 
 
41 
 
 IT FALLS SO GENTLY NOW. 
 
 I' wonder why mine eyes were filled 
 
 So oft with bitter tears, 
 Why sorrow's voice would not be stilled 
 
 Through all these lonely years ? 
 Though tears may dim my eyes again 
 
 And sadness shade my brow ; 
 How changed the'pang that moved me then : 
 It falls so gently now. 
 
 Hath time such wondrous power to heal 
 
 The wounds we thought so deep- 
 Forgets the heart at length to feel— 
 
 The wearied eyes to wee]:). 
 Though oft at memory's shrine again, 
 
 As in the past we bow- 
 How changed the pang that moved us then : 
 
 It falls so lightly now. 
 
 When first the trial came it seemed, 
 
 So dark the cloud it shed, 
 That joy was but a dream we dreamed, 
 
 And hope lay cold and dead ; 
 But time brought back its peace again, 
 
 Its light o'er heart and brow, 
 And changed the pang that moved us then : 
 
 It falls so gently now. 
 
42 
 
 HARD TIMES. 
 
 A monster in whose hideous face 
 The hand of mercy left no trace, 
 
 Has bound us in his shackles. 
 In every nook he pokes his nose, 
 He treads on everybody's toes, 
 
 And grins and hoots and cackles. 
 
 • 
 
 The strength of all the strong he tries, 
 The weakness of the weak he spies. 
 
 And bares what long was hidden. 
 He pinches both the rich and poor, 
 He knocks at everybody's door 
 
 And enters in unbidden. 
 
 And when the wretch a victim shakes — 
 A hold of some old friend he takes — 
 
 To keep himself from falling. 
 Till both come rolling to the dust. 
 So no one will his neighbor trust, 
 
 Yet all for help are calling. 
 
 For this was saint and sinner ripe. 
 And now the monster's iron gripe 
 v^ To ruin's brink has pressed them. 
 Some bravely battle in his arms, 
 And others run with wild alarms. 
 As if the de'il possessed them. 
 
43 
 
 "Hard Times !" such is the creature's name, 
 But where he goes and whence he came 
 
 Are matters well worth knowing. 
 From people's recklessness, 'tis said, 
 The creature oftentimes is bred — 
 At least, it helps his growing. 
 
 This running headlong into debt. 
 This spending what's not earned yet, 
 
 Is still the crying evil. 
 Of this let silly folks beware- 
 To spend alone and not to spare 
 
 Will drive him to the devil. 
 
 A FROLIC ON THE FLOOR. 
 
 What's the matter with you, neighbor ? 
 
 Is there any reason why 
 That your cheek is growing sallow 
 
 And there's jaundice in your eye ? 
 Why, you look as if you fancied 
 
 All on earth you'd lose ; 
 If you didn't set me laughing 
 
 You would put me in the blues. 
 Have you ever tried what solace 
 
 There is in the magic weed? 
 No I The a you should begin it; 
 
 It may help you at your need. 
 
44 
 
 But a better plan I'll mention, 
 
 Since I've thought the matter o'er— 
 
 Have you ever tried a frolic 
 
 With the youngsters on the floor ? 
 
 Tut, man I it is no wonder 
 
 That you're gloomy, grim and gray ; 
 That the horrid bile is eating 
 
 All your heart and soul away ; 
 That the merry god of laughter 
 
 In your bosom never rung, 
 For you've missed the only pastime 
 
 That can make an old heart young. 
 O the prancing and the dancing ! ^ ' 
 
 O the laughter ringing wild I 
 O the routing and the shouting 
 
 Of a happy hearted child ! 
 There's a magic music in it 
 
 Which you never heard before : 
 Try it, neighbor, fu. a minute- 
 Try a frolic on the floor. 
 
 Why, good man, the very baby 
 In the cradle there will crow 
 
 When he sees us topsy-turvy, 
 Helter-skelter, to and fro. 
 
 And young Kitty there goes screaining 
 Till she rolls about with glee. 
 
45 
 
 'Tis a pastime for the darlings, 
 
 And 'tis medicine, man, for me. • 
 O the bumping and the jumping ! 
 
 O the laughter ringing wild ! 
 O the routing and the shouting 
 
 Of a merry hearted child ! 
 Now, good neighbor, don't deny it, 
 
 Will it not your life restore ? 
 Then, go home, good man, and try it- 
 
 Try a frolic on the floor. 
 
 ■» <•>-■ 
 
 TWILIGHT. 
 
 They sing of starlight on the lake, 
 
 Of moonlight on the sea ; 
 Of morning splendors as they break 
 
 O'er land and lea ; 
 Of tempest when it shrieks aloud ; 
 Of thunder's throb from cloud to cloud, 
 When quivering through the heart of night 
 The storm king speeds on wings of light. 
 Kut sweeter far 
 - The pale eve star, 
 The day fall's darkening blue, 
 AVhen twilight lingers till the night 
 Bathes her with dew. 
 
This is the heart's most pensive hour, 
 It's dreams we love the best, 
 ■ : When shadowy tree and breathing flower 
 
 Do speak of rest ; 
 I: For light that dazzles oft may hide 
 : ■ C 'I'he mystic throb of life's deep tide, " * 
 
 And nature's kindliest charms are shed • 
 When wooed upon her nighdy bed. 
 () linger sull 
 By mead and rill, 
 • And let thy dewy wing 
 Enfold us with the dreams we love — 
 The peace they bring. 
 
 I've watched the moonlight through the trees 
 
 When not a leaflet stirred, 
 As night dews kissed to sleep the breeze 
 
 And hushed the bird. 
 I've seen the sunset waves of light 
 Fall rippling at the feet of night. 
 As back she swept, with shadowy hair, 
 The golden surf that lingered there. 
 But oh ! the power 
 Of twilight's hour 
 Is holiest far and best : 
 Sweet voices, listening hearts may hear,, 
 Do sing of rest. 
 
47 
 
 WHITTIER. 
 
 Sweet bard — 
 Poured fro-n a gifted lyre, thy song 
 Thrilled, even as it passed along 
 
 A lute whose silent chord 
 Would wake for thee a simple strain 
 Ere silence o'er it sleeps again. 
 
 ■ ■ O thou 
 Hast wondrous power and wondrous skill, 
 And wondrous love, to wake at will 
 
 All that thou wakest now. 
 Sing on, and let thy music be 
 Rapt, as an angel's melody. 
 
 I read 
 Thy glovvmg lines, then on the wing 
 Of thy great soul's imagining, 
 
 Through realms of song I speed ; 
 Or kneel entranced, as one who hears 
 A melody that melts to tears. 
 
 Apart 
 From all the gifted and the true 
 Of heaven-sealed songsters, there are two 
 
 That move and win my heart : 
 Bard of a nation's love, thou 'rt one ! 
 The other, gifted Tennyson. 
 
48 
 
 Thy stand 
 Was on the side of heaven and light ; 
 Of suffering hearts and human right, 
 
 And thine the guardian hand ;' 
 
 That swept a wild, impassioned lyre 
 To strains of love and songs of fire. 
 
 The slave, 
 Loosed from his galling chain, doth bless 
 Thy great heart's holy tenderness ; 
 And round the soldier's grave 
 A nation's love will linger long, J 
 
 For thou hast marked it in thy song. : / ; 
 
 I dwell 
 With kindling joy on what thou 'st won, 
 O loving and all conquering one — 
 
 Heart of the potent spell ! 
 And, kneeling at the same dear shrine, 
 Thy soul in music touches mine, 
 
 O bard ! 
 Forever round thy honored head 
 The light, the love of heaven be shed, 
 
 And thine the sweet reward. 
 When toils and tears and pains are past 
 The Christlike heart will meet at last. 
 
49 
 
 I long 
 So much, so much, thy hand to take, 
 And grasp it once for love's sweet sake, — 
 
 Love's own dear life of song; 
 But bye and bye, though here denied, 
 I'll grasp it on the other side. 
 
 v; ? SUBMISSION. 
 
 Of ail the forms divinely bright 
 That round me move on wings of light, 
 There's none more beautiful than thou. 
 Maid of the mild, ecstatic brow, 
 
 Of all the messengers that bear 
 Sweet tokens of our Father's care. 
 The fairest 'midst the thr^rag thou art, 
 Maid of the meek and lowly heart. 
 
 » 
 
 I know not what sweet power of thine 
 First touched this stubborn heart of mine ; 
 But well I knew thou wert from heaven 
 When first that kiss of peace was given. 
 
 Thy Sister Patience near thee stands, 
 With quiet heart and folded hands. 
 In many a con Aid dark and drear 
 Ye nerve the soul and dry the tear. 
 
5° 
 
 Sweet hope, that cheers through many a strife ; 
 Dear Faith, that grasps the Rock of Life ; 
 And Love, whose song the seraph sings, 
 Encircle thee with angel wings. 
 
 jMore beautiful that in thine eyes 
 A meek and mournful glory lies, 
 And round thy brow undimmed appears 
 The diadem of long shed tears. 
 
 Where'er I be — whate'er betide, 
 Where darkness palls or storms abide, 
 Be thy soft arms around me pressed, 
 Forever fold me to thy breast. 
 
 CROSSINCx O'ER THE CREEK. 
 
 'Tv/as in the pleasant month of June, 
 
 The happiest of the year. 
 When vales are filled with joyous tune 
 
 And skies are soft and clear. 
 On one sweet summer eventide. 
 
 Our dark-eyed Susan strayed 
 By Elva's stream, at Harry's side, 
 
 The witching red-lipped maid. 
 Full long in secret pined his soul 
 
 Of love he dared not speak — 
 
Till then — his arm around her stole 
 In crossing o'er the creek. 
 
 'Twas but a slippery way at best — 
 A plank with moss o'ergrown — 
 And Harry'y arm was round her pressed, 
 
 His heart was near her own. 
 The breeze awhile its whisper hushed 
 
 And kissed them silently ; 
 The laughing waves looked up and blushed 
 
 That sweet embrace to see. 
 How could the youth his secret keep : 
 
 How fail of love to speak, 
 When near him turned that tempting lip, 
 While crossing o'er the creek. 
 
 Ah ! youngsters, when of peace ye dream. 
 
 And side by side ye stray, 
 Avoid the bridge~o'er Elva's stream, 
 
 That sweet but treacherous w^ay. 
 If ye'd be free from Cupid's dart. 
 
 Nor be by love betrayed, 
 Don't linger closely, heart to heart, 
 
 Tike' Harry and the maid. 
 Soft words that must the soul betray 
 
 From lip and^ye will break. 
 And danger lurk:; upon the way. 
 
 In crossing o'er the creek. 
 
5^ 
 
 motherlp:ss. 
 
 Poor little weary one, 
 
 Mournful to look ui)on, 
 Sad those sweet eyes in their pleadnig to see ! 
 
 Is there no lip to press 
 
 Thine with a soft caress? 
 Is there no mother heart watching for thee ? 
 
 Sad little straying one, 
 
 Homeless and woe begone. 
 None to prote6t thee, to love thee or guide ; 
 
 Is there no angel bright 
 
 Watching thy steps to-night, 
 Moved by thy sorrow, unseen at thy side ? 
 
 May some poor mother heart, 
 
 Forced with its joy to jxirt, ' / 
 
 Mourning the blossom that's blighted and gone, 
 
 Touched by that wan, sad face 
 
 (live ':ee the empty place, 
 ]V)or little wandering, motherless one ! • 
 
 Tears ! how they're nightly shed 
 
 Hands! how they're in pleading si)read 
 Heavenward, longing for love that is tlown, 
 
 Yet not a tear for thee, 
 
 None can thy sorrow see. 
 Sad little \\anderer, homeless and lone. 
 
53 
 
 May not a mother's care, 
 
 Will not her dying prayer 
 Enter his heart who hath promised to be 
 
 Light in life's bitterness, 
 
 Hope of the motherless ? 
 Child of the promise, He watches for thee. 
 
 -)-**—♦- 
 
 NELLIE. 
 She came to bind atfe6tion's ties, 
 
 To light our load of care, 
 To win us with her soft blue eyes, 
 
 Sweet pearl, surpassing fair. 
 But soon the earthly bond was riven — 
 She went to lead our hearts to heaven. 
 
 The lily hands upon the breast 
 
 Are folded still and white ; 
 No song to hush her babe to rest 
 
 The mother sings to-night ; 
 But there's no sorrow on His heart 
 Where sheltered now, dear lamb, thou art. 
 
 The summer comes again to touch 
 Its bloom on blade and tree ; 
 
 But ah ! sweet blossom, loved so much. 
 It comes not back to thee. 
 
 And yet, O child of many a prayer, 
 
 Eternal summer waits thee there. 
 
54 
 
 O hearts that ache o'er parted ties ! 
 
 'Twas hard to give her uj) — 
 To hide your tears from human eyes, 
 
 Yet drink the bitter cup ; 
 'Twas hard tt) kiss the cold white brow 
 And lay her where she's sleeping now. 
 
 () for the faith that upward spiings 
 Through darkness, doubt and gloom ; 
 
 That hears the song a seraph sings, 
 And light the lonely tomb. -; ' 
 
 A litde while to watch and weep — 
 
 There's calm beyond the troubled deep. 
 
 We lay them down, with tears, to rest — 
 The tender and the fair; ? : ; v 
 
 We hush the sorrow in the breast 
 And lift our hands in ])rayer. 
 
 He hears our bitter, mournful cry — 
 
 The answer cometh bye and bye. 
 
 The tear in many a lonely hour 
 At memory's touch may start. 
 
 But lime will fall with soothing power 
 And love bind up the heart. 
 
 A little white to weej) at I)est, 
 
 Then home and heaven and endless rest. 
 
55 
 
 HURON. 
 
 This is the spot and this the scene 
 Where long my heart and hopes have been, 
 And here again my lute will wake 
 To song beside the dark blue lake. 
 
 Huron ! glory of the west, , 
 
 1 read not on thine azure breast 
 
 The deeds of grandeur, power or pride 
 That swept of yore thy billowy tide. 
 i:)eparted are the braves who trod 
 Untrammeled o'er their native sod ; 
 Nor battlement nor tower remains 
 To weep their exit on thy plains. 
 
 When woke the Indian's battle-cry, 
 Fierce as the eagle's scream on high. 
 And many a dark browed chieftain gave 
 His life blood for a warrior's grave — 
 Then, Huron, thy dim islands saw 
 The watchfires of the Ottawa, 
 And stretched Algonijuin's remnant bands 
 From Erie's wave to thy red sands. 
 
 Hut they are gone, and dim the trace 
 'lliat's left us of that valiant race. 
 For them, () Fame, no voice thou hast, 
 Save shadowy legends of the past. 
 
S6 
 
 Could we long silent echoes wake 
 From out thy depths, O glorious lake ! 
 Or read, while gazing on thy brow 
 That page of old, so voiceless now. 
 
 Yet mighty though that past may be, 
 A nobler morrow waits for thee. 
 And soon on thy dim isles we'll trace 
 The footprints of a mightier race — 
 A race whose living power shall wake 
 Thy name to song, O radiant lake, 
 Whose deeds forever mark the scene 
 With triumjjh where thy steps have been. 
 
 ► <>» « 
 
 A PRACxMENT. 
 
 From the poet's dreamy Aiden, 
 Gathered pearls at many a shrine, 
 
 With His blessing winged and laden, 
 Onward, O thou song of mine. 
 
 Tell the bruised and weary hearted 
 Mercy hears their every cry ; 
 
 Every tear by sorrow started 
 Finds the Father's heart on high. 
 
 Tell them in thy sweetest measure, 
 Tell them of that love divine : 
 
57 
 Some poor weeping heart may treasure 
 Midst its tears a note of thine. 
 
 Love's sweet music ever falleth 
 
 Pangless as the balm she brings ; . 
 
 Sweet, as when an angel calleth, 
 
 Is the matchless song she sings. 
 
 O y e hapless hearts that Ian guish, 
 
 Troubled, tried and tempest tossed. 
 Think not in your hour of anguish 
 
 That your famtest cry is lost. 
 
 I'orms unseen are round you moving. 
 
 Sheltering wings are o'er you spread, 
 Angel hands, unfelt but loving, 
 \r Gather up the tears ye shed. 
 
 Then from out the poet's Aiden, 
 
 Like some vision half divine. 
 With His blessing winged and laden, 
 
 Onward, O thou song of mine. 
 
 ►-«a-^-»- 
 
 LET OTHERS TELL HOW GREAT THOU ART. 
 
 Let others tell how great thou art ; 
 
 How great thy power on high ; — 
 1 love thee for the tender heart, 
 
 The kind and pitying eye. 
 
S8 
 
 I love thee for th'j mercy given, 
 
 The pity deep and strong ; 
 () thou art praised in earth and heaven- 
 
 What need of my poor song. 
 
 AVhen but a wandering child I strayed 
 Far from the shepherd's fold ; 
 
 When wounded, weary and dismayed 
 My griefs to thee I told. 
 
 Then didst rhou lift me in thine arms, 
 
 And on thy kindly breast 
 Didst tell me of a Saviour's charms 
 
 And lulled my heart to rest. 
 
 Then blessed be thy hallowed name, 
 
 And blessed be the hour 
 I yielded to that Saviour's claim 
 
 And fled the tempter's power. 
 
 So, while others tell how great ihou art, 
 How vast thy power on high, 
 
 I'll love thee for the tender heart, ; 
 The kind and pitying eye. 
 
59 
 
 A WOODNYMPH. 
 
 Two roguish eyes as black as coal, 
 Two lips that somewhere stole 
 
 Their fragrance from the roses ; 
 Soft tresses, dark as ebon night, 
 A cheek within whose dimpled light 
 
 llie blush of dawn reposes. 
 
 A face so like a dream divine — 
 'Twas such a face that looked on mine 
 
 With mingled fear and wonder. 
 Then suddenly the vines were stirred, 
 .And such a rippling laugh I heard 
 
 From out the bushes yonder. 
 
 I could not move — entranced 1 stood 
 AVithin the shadows of the wood. 
 
 Lost in a dream Elysian ; 
 But while I dreamed the sprite or fay 
 Swift vanished from my sight away, 
 
 Like some enchanted vision. 
 
 1 called to mind my boyhood's dreams 
 Of woodnymphs by the haunted streams. 
 
 With vines and blossoms laden ; 
 . But here in this secluded wood 
 Was one of real flesh and blood — 
 
 A veritable maiden. 
 
6o 
 
 I then and there made up my mind 
 That laughter-loving fay I'd find — 
 
 I'd seek her late and early ; 
 I'd hunt the woodland o'er and o'er — 
 Yea, search the land from shore to shore, 
 
 Until I caught her fairly 
 
 Not long I sought, O joy supreme ! 
 1 found her resting by a stream, 
 
 Half hid amongst the bushes. ) 
 
 Her feet hung o'er the clamoring tide 
 That kissed them and then fled to hide 
 
 Beneath the bank its blushes. 
 
 But how I wooed the maiden fair, 
 What tales I told her then and there, 
 
 Of how my heart had sought her, 
 I may not speak, O friend, save this: '■^''■y''r'-<'-^'''^] 
 That twilight was an age of bliss 
 
 By B^lva's starlit water. 
 
 NEWTON. 
 
 Within the bosom of thy quiet hills. 
 
 Securely sheltered where no storms assail, 
 Kissed as they wander by the whispering rills 
 
 And bathed m beauty, sleeps a peaceful vale. 
 
6i 
 
 A spo^ romantic, beautiful and bright, 
 
 Touched with a wild enchantment, soft and fair, 
 
 The lingering summer sheds her failing light, 
 And beauty seeks her couch to slumber there. 
 
 The heart that loves to lean on Nature's breast 
 And woo her teachings, seeks a spot like this ; 
 
 Here, worn and wearied might the wanderer rest 
 And dream again dear childhood's dream of bltss. 
 
 When first I looked upon thy verdant hills. 
 
 Young summer robed them with her garb of light 
 And all of joy that softens, soothes and thrills 
 : . Found my sad heart and held my lingering sight. 
 
 . 1 wandered by the stream that gently flows 
 '■ Through thy fair bosom where the maples lean, 
 The mill's glad music stirred the soft repose 
 
 And threads of crimson twined the shadowy green. 
 
 All thrilled my heart and bade me turn to Him 
 Whose works are glorious and divine His skill, 
 
 And there I lingered till the day grew dim 
 And the pale star went down behind the hill. 
 
 Sweet vale of beauty ! long may peace be shed 
 Upon thy dwellers, now so dear to me. 
 
 Where'er in life my wandering feet may tread. 
 Beloved Newton, I'll remember thee. 
 
62 
 
 WABEGA: AN INDIAN LEGEND. 
 
 ^^'abega — -lory of thy tribe — with pride 
 The chieftain made his loveliest one thy bride. 
 From nobler warrior ne'er was homage paid 
 Than thine to that unrivaled Indian maid. 
 And well she loved thee, for what hand could vie 
 With thine when woke Algon(}uin's batde cry ; 
 Thine arm the mightiest, thine the truest lance 
 That swept the warpath or that graced the dance. 
 When flushed with victory from the battle, thou 
 The humblest captive at her feet would bow, 
 Breathing thy love, no deeper than her own, 
 With pleading eyes and soft, entreating tone. 
 
 And she was beautiful — Mahina's eyes. 
 Soft as the shadows of the morning skies, 
 Spoke but too well whate'er the s[)irit felt, 
 Wlien pride would kindle, or affe(5lion melt, 
 No sculptor's hand e'er wrought a lovelier face, 
 Or touched a form with more voluptuous grace, 
 And ne'er did flowers a happier lustre bring 
 Than gemmed that hair, dark as the raven's wing. 
 Swift as the fawn were thy unsandaled feet 
 To meet thy warrior in love's wild retreat, 
 A quiet vale within whose depths w^as heard 
 The soft, sweet coomg of the woodland bird. 
 
"63 
 
 But woke at last the battle-cry that gave 
 Full many a \A'arrior to a gory grave, 
 And then, Wabega, with love's last adieu, 
 From thy fond arms to meet the foeman flew. 
 Fierce was the battle— terrible the foe— 
 Nor gleaming lance could lay Wabega low. 
 Of many warriors, none could boast like he 
 The steel unbroken, filled with victory ; 
 Of all the band who had for glory burned. 
 But few to tell their deeds of might returned. 
 And war's red trophies though with pride arrayed 
 Told the sad price they had for victory paid. 
 
 But why, Wabega, hast thou left the dance? 
 Why flung from thee the warrior's bow and lance? 
 In thy dim eyes and on the whitening cheek 
 Do mightier griefs than war's red slaughter speak. 
 They lead thee slowly to a dark, wild glen, 
 They point thee out a new made grave, and then 
 They leave thee, silent and alone, beside 
 Mahina's grave— thy dear and promised bride 
 
 She pined for thee, and ere the summer hours 
 Left their last kisses on the fading flowers. 
 Her soft, dark eyes were of their light bereft 
 And on her cheek the seal of death was left. 
 She pined for thee, though weli she knew that thou 
 Wouldst come back concjueror as thou comest now. 
 
64 
 
 Thou wert to her life's fountain whence her heart 
 Drank in existence but to droop apart. 
 
 In vain the warrior's to his pride appeal, 
 His hand no more will grasp the glittering steel ; 
 His heart is left the tomb of dark despair — 
 Life's hopes and joys and dreams lie barfed there. 
 What to him now the glory he has brought / . 
 From batde's conflict, when so dearly bought ? 
 The heart that kindled when his deeds were told, 
 Is chilled by death and in the ground lies cold. ' 
 
 Wabega, glory of the Wyandot, : ^ 
 
 ' Can battle's call from sleep arouse thee not? 
 Thou from whose eyes the Mingo turned and fled, 
 Why trembling shrink and hang the weary head ? 
 Thou who couldst meet the foe with fearless brow ; 
 A woman's soul is all that's left thee now. 
 And tears are trembling in those eyes that once 
 Gave back the foe Aigonciuin's lightning glance. 
 Shame on thee, chieftain ! leader of the brave. 
 Like some soft maiden weepmg by the grave. 
 What though of one that loved thee thou'rt bereft? 
 Wake thee and win — there's many a maiden left. 
 
 Vaui their ai)pealing to his power or pride : 
 ^Vithin his heart the warrior's fire has died. 
 Like some scathed tree he's left o'er what has passed 
 The hghtning's bolt or storms unpitying blast, 
 
His eyes were bent full many a time afar 
 Where burned at eve the lonely twilight star, 
 And in the west, where the dark mountains reared 
 Their lofty heads, an angel form appeared 
 With outstretched hands, invitii-g him to rest 
 From his deep sorrow on her cloudy breast, 
 (;irded and crowned with sunset's crimson dyes, 
 Winged with the sunbeams from the radiant skies : 
 And a sweet voice from out these clouds of snow 
 W^ould whisper words in music soft and low — 
 Words of such soothing and of power so sweet. 
 He yearned to worship at the angel's feet. 
 
 '-Come, O Wabega, come, I wait for thee, 
 O'er the blue mountains will our bridal be ; 
 Let the dark grave no longer bind thy feet, 
 Come, O my warrior, and the lost one meet. 
 Here not a cloud the summer's glory shades, 
 No leaflet droops, nor fragrant blossom fades, 
 Joy lingering laughs beside the sparkling rills. 
 Eternal summer sleeps upon these hills. 
 
 "I sang for thee with weeping, when afar 
 
 Thy strong, brave arm was bared in deeds of war ; 
 
 I prayed that great Chemanitou would fling 
 
 Around thy head the shadow of his wing. 
 
 I craved for thee the life to me denied, 
 
 But ah ! 1 miss thee, loved one, from my side ! 
 
66 
 
 Thine, the last name that trembled on my breath, 
 The last sweet memory in the hour of death. 
 
 "But come, O my loved one, away to the west, 
 Where the star in the twilight sinks down to its rest. 
 O list to the welcomes that murmuring break 
 The songs of the spirit land o'er the blue lake. 
 
 • 
 
 "Thy path shall be bright where the blessed ones rove, 
 The home of the brave who are faithful to love ; 
 Thy plumes shall be twin'd with the sunbeams that glow 
 On the clouds, whose soft bosoms are fairer than snow. 
 
 "The way may be lonely, but J will be near 
 When thy feet become weary, to guide and to cheer. 
 Then haste, (.) my loved one, away to the west. 
 The bride thou art weeping invites thee to rest." 
 
 Onward for many a weary day ; r ' . 
 
 Wabega trod his lonely way. '" . 
 
 On from the land of shade and snows 
 To where the fragrant south wind blows. 
 And bird and stream and tree and flower 
 Became more beauteous every hour, 
 As guided by an unseen hand, 
 His steps approached the spirit land. 
 -. And echoes o'er the blue lake's breast 
 Came floating from the for off west. 
 Soft breathing in melodeous songs 
 
67 
 
 Of welcome from the waiting throngs; 
 Thy steps before have never been 
 Through such a wild, enchanting scene. 
 Here might thy lonely journey cease, 
 And thy worn heart lie down in peace. 
 No storm comes here, no chill of night, 
 The glory of the wilds to blight- 
 No wrathful spirit ever leaves 
 His shadow on the lake's blue waves : 
 A thousand hues with blending dye 
 Shed their sweet light on earth and sky. 
 And joyful birds that know no fear, 
 And flowers of rich perfume are heie. 
 
 Yet onward, o'er yon radiant lake 
 its journey thy canoe must take ; 
 There waits for thee Mahina's hand, 
 There welcome thee the spirit band. 
 But onward ! fearless, thou may'st glide. 
 No storm sweeps o'er that crystal tide; 
 Lit from the glory of the west, 
 Nifht flings no shadow o'er its breast. 
 Onward ! and steer thy bark aright 
 Where yonder mountains burn with light. 
 
 One purple mountain guides thee now, 
 The home of great Chemanitou ; 
 Thy sorrows and thy pangs are past. 
 
6S 
 
 Thy soul is near its home at last ! 
 . 'I'here thine enraptured eyes shall see 
 The land of immortality. ., " 
 
 O blissful region, where the skies 
 Burn with eternal sunniier dyes. 
 No shadow cold — no winter chills 
 The verdure on these sunlit hills, 
 . Nor war's wild peal, nor battles song 
 
 Is heard the sleeping vales among. 
 • Nor tempest sweeps, nor thunder wakes 
 i An echo on these tranquil lakes. 
 
 |i But fairest sight thine eyes can see, 
 The lost and loved one waits for thee ; 
 Robed with the sunbeam, round her brow 
 A wreath of light is burning now. .. 
 In those dark eyes, so soi., so sweet, 
 The old, dear love thine own will meet ; 
 Her lips unstained, to thine shall press 
 An angel's dream of blessedness. ; 
 How sweeter far to linger here 
 By vale so green and lake so clear, 
 Than bear again Mahina's form 
 To thy dark land of cloud and storm. 
 
 !: ^Vabega hear I what words are thcr'^ 
 
 ■^ Soft breathing on the balmy breeze ? - - - - 
 
 A voice is calling on thee now — 
 
 A message from Chemanitou ! 
 
69 
 
 Alas, alas! thou must retake 
 Thy journey back o'er yonder lake. 
 For many days thy path shall be 
 'Midst thine own mountain scenery ; 
 A chieftain's power will be thy lot— 
 The bulwark of the Wyandot ; 
 And by the council fire thy word, 
 Like wisdom's echo, shall be heard. 
 Then cease to wail upon the grave 
 Of her whose life thou couldst not save : 
 Go and fulfill thy destiny, 
 And, fair as now, she'll wait for thee. 
 
 Then came the sound of myriad wings, 
 Love breathing on harmonious strings ; 
 The spirits of the mighty dead 
 Waved their soft pinions round his head. 
 And came o'er his enraptured sight 
 Ecstatic dreams of joy and light. 
 Till his thrilled heart within him burned, 
 As from the Elysian fields he turned. 
 
 . 
 
 Alas ! Wabega, 'twas a dream that went 
 Across thy soul, even as thine eyes were bent 
 On the pale star that watched thy tears at eve, 
 As thou wert watching by the lost one's grave. 
 'Twas but a dream, and yet a dream that left 
 
7° 
 
 A happier influence on the heart bereft. 
 But what a change ! Night's chill is on thy head, 
 And thou art bending o'er the buried dead. 
 No echoes here the gloomy silence break 
 Save the sad moaning of the shadowed lake. ' • 
 But rise, O warrior ! thine that land may be — 
 That dream at last may find reality. . 
 
 > «c* « 
 
 HAVE YOU ERRED, O BROTHER ? 
 
 Have you erred, O brother? 
 
 Have you wronged another ? 
 In some hour when passion swayed you. 
 When a moment's wrath betrayed you ? 
 
 Have you erred, O brother ? 
 
 Have you wronged another ? 
 
 Will there be no sorrow 
 
 When )e meet to-morrow ? 
 Brother, go ; be noble hearted. 
 Bind again the ties you've parted, 
 
 Then you'll meet to-morrow 
 
 Without shame and sorrow. 
 
 Has some loved one grieved you. 
 Some old friend deceived you ? 
 In some hour when passion swayed him, 
 When a moment's wrath betrayed him, 
 
71 
 
 Has some loved one grieved you, 
 Some old friend deceived you ? 
 
 Brother, judge not blindly ; • ' 
 
 Meet the erring kindly. 
 With thine own heart's interceding, 
 It may be, his tears are pleading. 
 
 Brother, judge not blindly, 
 
 Meet the erring kindly. 
 
 One there is in heaven 
 A Who hath much forgiven ; 
 
 O ne who every blessing gave us ; 
 One who sutfered death to save us. 
 
 Be like Him in heaven. 
 
 Who hath much forgiven. 
 
 ; . ' ALICE. 
 
 Gentle Alice, blue eyed maiden, 
 Tnpping lightly through the glen. 
 
 With thy pail of wild fruit laden, 
 Welcome to our eyes again. 
 
 Joyous Alice, gently shaking 
 Thy fair tresses to the breeze, 
 
72 
 
 Midst their gold the sunlight breaking, 
 Softened by the shadowy trees. 
 
 Didst thou gather all these berries 
 
 With thine own fair hands alone ? 
 Felt these boughs of wild, red cherries 
 . Arm no stronger than thine own ? 
 
 Ah ! methinks from yonder hamlet 
 Stole a youth with raven hair ; 
 
 Didst thou linger by the streamlet 
 For a dark-cheeked comer there ? 
 
 Soft-eyed Alice, now we hear thee • ■- ' 
 Singing blithely through the glen ; 
 
 While he bent those branches near thee, 
 Didst thou sing or listen then ? 
 
 'Neath the trees and midst the bushes ! 
 
 What a pleasant place to stray 
 
 Loitering where the wild rose blushes. 
 
 Gathering berries by the way. 
 
 Ah, sweet Alice! soft-eyed maiden, 
 Tripping lightly through the glen. 
 
 With thy pail of wild fruit laden. 
 Welcome to our eyes again. 
 
.■■':,■/,,:.:.-;,;' SONG. --';■-:.■:;..: ''^ ■:':.•" ^ : '":■ ■^-:, 
 
 Beautiful bird with a trembluig wing, 
 
 Weary and lost in thy wandering, 
 
 Thou hast journeyed far o'er a treeless wild, 
 
 Where the tempest sweeps and the rocks are piled. 
 
 Go back, go back, to thine own wild bovvers, 
 
 Where the air is sweet vvith the breath of flowers. 
 
 "I have wandered east, I have wandered west^ 
 I have journeyed far from my lowly nest ; 
 I have searched the woodlands o'er and o'er, 
 IJut the mate that I love will return no more, 
 And I've come, where no happy heart is nigh, 
 To watch my Jiangs, or to see me die." 
 
 Alas ! poor bird ! but perchance his eyes 
 Have looked for awhile on a foirer prize : 
 Some siren's song from the leafy defl 
 Hath wiled his heart with a wizard spell. 
 Return, sweet bird, it may be that now 
 He mourns thy loss on the lowly bough. 
 
 "A maiden came to our trysting place — 
 A weeping maid with a sad white face ; 
 ^ She sang of a false deceiver's art, 
 - Of a trust betrayed and a l)rokcn heart. 
 
 And we answered back from the swinging spray : 
 ' But man alone will his mate betray.' ' 
 
74 ..---.:;■.;■:■■->- ^..- 
 
 O beautiful bird! then it cannot be 
 That thine absent mate has been false to thee ? 
 ; He knew no change, but he lies full low - 
 ' Alar where the sapphire violets blow. 
 Go back to thine own wild haunts again ; 
 Thou wilt find a mate in the bowery glen. 
 
 "A lady came to our trysting tree, 
 And she sang a song, but so mournfully, 
 Of a loved one lost on the cruel wave, 
 And her heart lay deep in his billowy grave. 
 And we answered back from our green retreat : 
 
 *No woman's heart can its love repeat.' 
 
 > >> 
 
 O beautiful bird with the dewy eyes ! 
 
 Between our hearts there are kindred ties ; 
 
 We have loved an'l lost, and around us springs 
 
 The bond which a mutual sorrow brings. 
 
 We'll sing of the past in this lonely wild 
 
 Where the tempest sweeps and the rocks are piled. 
 
 LOVE CANNOT LIVE ALONE 
 I sat and mused in dreamy thought, 
 
 And visions rarae and went 
 Of bliss that wakes but lingers not 
 
 When love's dear light is spent. 
 
75 
 
 I thought how love will pine and die, 
 
 If unie(iuited long, 
 W hen from the heart no answering cry 
 ■ Gives back her own sweet song 
 
 How at the door she lingering lies, 
 With tenderness divine, ^ . 
 
 Long seeking what the heart denies — 
 An entrance and a shrine. 
 
 1 thought of many a lowly life, 
 
 ( )f many a weary brain ; 
 >'o rock to shelter in the strife, , 
 
 No hand to soothe the pain. 
 
 "O love !" 1 said, "who wearieth not, 
 \Vh> wretchedness like this? 
 O love : w hen \n ildly and long sought. 
 Why still deny this bliss?" 
 
 Back to my heart and on my ear, 
 
 In soft and tender tone, 
 There came a whisper sweet and clear — 
 "Love cannot Jive alone." 
 
 She seeks her kind where'er she be, 
 
 She^ gilds all life with light, 
 And 'neath her blessed ministry 
 
 E'en sorrow has no night. 
 
76 
 
 She meets the blow for others given. 
 And bears its greater part ; • 
 
 She guides the weary one to heaven, 
 And binds the broken heart. ; ■ 
 
 She seeks the wretched and betrayed 
 
 And makes their cause her own ; 
 She waits the welcome long delayed. 
 •• Yet cannot live alone. 
 
 O bind her to your heart of hearts ! 
 
 Forever make her thine, - - 
 For when the angel Love departs " 
 
 No light of life cin shine. 
 
 Yes, even love will pine and die, 
 
 If unrecjuited long; 
 When from the heart no answering cry 
 
 (;ives back her own sweet song. 
 
 COME HOME. 
 
 Come home, O loved one, daylight soft declineth. 
 And the pale stars look sadly from the sky ; 
 
 My lone, lone heart with anxious sorrow pineth 
 For the sweet peace it feeleth when thou'rt by. 
 
77 
 Come home, O dearest; thine shall be the greeting 
 
 Thou so much lovest from ni> lips to hear, 
 When near my own thy cherished heart is beating, 
 And th) low voice falls softly on my ear. 
 
 For thee the welcome ever fondly given ; 
 
 For thee the warm seat by the bright fireside ; 
 For thee the arm whose circling is thy heaven ; 
 
 For thee the kisses now too long denied. 
 
 And this sweet babe, wrapped in its softest slumbes, 
 Will wake and smile into thine own glad eyes. 
 
 O come ! each welcome my poor heart would number 
 Thy long tarrying still too long denies. 
 
 No echo answers but the low, sad breaking 
 Of winds that moan around yon shadowy hill 
 
 Thine eyes with lookmg through the gloom are achmg. 
 Come home, O dearest one I why linger still? 
 
 Thou, too, art weary, darling— long and lonely 
 Thy days have been, but now thy steps are near 
 
 To her who needs but thy dear presence only 
 To breathe no sorrow and to shed no tear 
 
PEACE, NOT AS THE WORLD GIVETH. 
 
 I asked my heart when memones thronged 
 Around it from the buried years, ' . 
 
 Was there no peace lor which it longed, 
 
 No shelter in this vale of tears ? 
 
 Then like a weeping child it knelt, 
 
 Sick with Its sonow at His feet. 
 Pleading the lowhness it felt, 
 
 An«l yearning His dear love to meet. 
 
 As when a father stoopeth low 
 And lifts the wanderer to his breast, 
 
 Wipes with his hand the tears that flow, 
 And lulls the weary one to rest. 
 
 So did He lift me to His heart — 
 
 The sorrow stilled, the sin forgiven — 
 
 He bade the lowliness depart, 
 
 And kissed me with th^ peace of heaven. 
 
 There is no hand on earth to bless, 
 O Father! — no dear hand hke thme. 
 
 Soft in its holy tenderness, 
 
 Sweet in its touch of love divine. 
 
7V 
 
 ONE CHRISTMAS NIGHT. 
 
 There sat in my house on a Christmas night, 
 
 Two angels wondrous fair — 
 The one with a brow of elysian light, 
 And the other with raven hair. 
 
 •Twas the dark browed angel who had held 
 
 To my lips that bitter draft, 
 On the mournful day when by heaven impelled 
 
 From the Circean bowl I quaffed. 
 
 On the desolate day when mydariing died, 
 
 And my soul was wrung with pain,— 
 When he whispered of death with his ghostly breath, 
 
 'Till he tortured and turned my brain. 
 But there sat in my house this Christmas night. 
 
 Two angels wondrous fair — 
 Uhe one with a brow of elysian light, 
 
 And the otlcr with inky hair. 
 
 'J hen down m mine eyes and around my breast 
 
 His raven hair he swept, 
 Till the shadows ot death my soul oppressed, 
 
 And my heart in its anguish-wept. 
 
 "O angel of death, was my home too bright- 
 Had the jNi aster smiled too long, ^ , ._^- , 
 1 hat you cast such a blight on its peaceful light, 
 And you crushed out its life of song ? 
 
So 
 
 "Does my soul yet again to your breath lie bare ? 
 Will your shadow no longer depart, , 
 
 'Till you've blinded my eyes with your inky hair. 
 And you've kissed our the light of my hearts, 
 
 But there sat in my house this Christmas night 
 
 '1 wo angels \\ ondrcus fair — 
 The one had a brow of elysian light — 
 
 The angel . ' Peace was there. 
 
 He stood between me and the shadow of death, 
 And a kiss on my brow he pressed ; 
 
 And I felt the sweet life of that angel's breath, 
 As I lay on his kmdly breast > : 
 
 He swept with hib hands from my blinded e;.es, 
 
 That shadowy hair away, 
 A nd shed the soft light of his own sweet skies, 
 
 Where the damp and the darkness lay. 
 
 Again I feel strong for the battle of life, 
 
 By. this pledge of a Father's love ; ' 
 
 1 can patiently wait till the end of the strife, 
 , As my Willie is waiting above. 
 
 So there sat in my house on a Christmas night 
 Two angels wondrous fair — 
 ^ The one with a brow of elysian light. 
 And the other uith raven hair. 
 
 .n' 
 
STANZAS. 
 
 Go call the summer flower that springs 
 And bind it on thy breast. " 
 
 Then if the soul to beauty clings, 
 There let it meeldy rest. 
 
 Or if thou knowest one that's fair. 
 
 Whf)se heart'is pledged to thine, 
 Amidst the maiden's sunny hair . 
 
 The simple blossom twine. 
 
 There is a language in'the flowers 
 Affe(5lion only reads, . 
 
 And all of love, of hope that's ours 
 That language softly pleads. 
 
 Kor weep'to see its bloom decay, 
 
 'Tis"but a typeof all 
 Our earthly bli^s that fades away — 
 
 Our happiest dreams that fall. 
 
 Then call the fairest"flo\ter that springs, 
 
 And bind it on thy breast. 
 And if thy' heart'to beau ly clings, 
 
 There let it meekly rest 
 
 > '■■ 
 
 i'X 
 
S9 
 
 A LITTLE CHILD. 
 
 God help the man without a mate, 
 
 The ship without a chart, 
 The house by death left desolate. 
 The bruised and broke^i heart; 
 But sadder, darker, lonelier far 
 l''han midnight's hour without one star, 
 Or empty hearts to love exiled — 
 A home without a little child. 
 O light of life, 
 Where storm and strife 
 Are hushed to lasting rest ; 
 Where pain is healed 
 And heaven revealed, 
 And nothing lives un blest. 
 Shrine of affection undetiled — 
 A home where dwells a little child. 
 
 We sing "The augel of the hearth," 
 
 Of "Love's sweet power to charm," 
 Of all things pure in heaven and earth 
 
 That shield our homes trom harm. 
 From these, though beautiful they be. 
 We turn, O joy of joys, to thee! 
 Purest of all things undefiled — 
 A home where dwells a little child. 
 
«» 
 
 There lives a spell 
 No tongue can tell, 
 A charm surpassing {air- 
 Where home is bright 
 With loving light- 
 God sent this blessing there. - 
 
 Ah, shadowy spot, to joy exiled— 
 A home without a little child. 
 
 God help the man without a mate— 
 
 The loved ones called to parti 
 Gcd help the house left desolate, . , 
 
 The empty, aching heart. ■ ^ 
 
 God help the tempest driven, whose way 
 Is marked where no sweet sunbeams stray, 
 Whose path lies where the rocks are piled,— 
 But most, tne home without a child. 
 '11-iough tears and pain 
 May long remain, 
 Though many a hope lies dead. 
 Yet joy will flee, 
 Dear spot, to ihee. 
 Where childhood's light is shed 
 Shrine ot affeaion undetMe'l— 
 A home where dwells a little child. 
 
 #■ 
 
 BLut there are homes where sad hearts ache, 
 Where nightly tears are shed— 
 
84 
 
 But left them — else the heart would break — 
 - The memory of the dead! 
 The empty crib, the toy laid by, 
 Treasured and kissed so tenderly ; 
 The wounded heart, unreconciled — 
 The home robbed of its gentle child. 
 O heart unblest. 
 So sick for rest ! 
 () hands outstretched for aid ! 
 Sick of the gloom 
 By ) onder tomb 
 Where thy lost pearl is laid. 
 A little while to joy exiled, 
 Then heaven's sweet home with that sweet child. 
 
 ►^^►* 
 
 A DIRGfc:. 
 
 Child of the marble brow, 
 
 Fair as the dawn art thou — 
 Stainless and white, but as cold as the cla>. 
 
 Peari of the pulseless heart, 
 
 Passionless, pure thou art — 
 Pure as the angels that wooed thee away. 
 
 Beautiful, peerless one, 
 Joy that I rested on — 
 Mute are the lips that I pressed with ray own. 
 
85 
 
 Softly thy name I speak, 
 Tenderly I kiss thy cheek- 
 White as the marble, but cold as the stone. 
 
 Hfre at thy side 1 kneel, 
 
 Hiding the pain I feel. 
 Kissing the hands that lie clasped on thy breast. 
 
 Oh ! for the night to fall, 
 
 Dark with its starless ])all, 
 Oh ! lo be laid at thy feet and at rest. \ 
 
 Soon will they bear thy clay 
 Hence to the grave away, 
 Soon will the darkness fall damp on thy brow, 
 'I hen will my heart be hid 
 Under thy coffin lid, 
 Dearest and treaswed one, lost to me now. 
 
 Pearl of the pulseless heart. 
 Passionless, pure thou art— 
 • Pure as the angels that lured thee away. 
 Child of the marble brow. 
 Fair as the dawn art thou. 
 Stainless and white, but as cold as the clay. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON AN OLD LETTER. 
 These lines are wet with many a tear . 
 
 By silent sorrow shed ; 
 The hand that trembling traced them here 
 
Is cold and dead ! 
 They tell of love so sadly tried, 
 Of yearning long, too long, denied. 
 
 The love that still unwearied clings 
 
 I'o hope tlirough.many a pain. 
 Till back to sorrow's heart she brings 
 
 The light again, — 
 That lingering weeps at heaven's dear shrine, 
 And waits and wins, because divine. 
 
 And once again, in dreams I see 
 
 A vision, oh ! how sweet : 
 An old gray head bent reverendy 
 
 At Jesus' feet ! 
 The pleading hands outstretched in prayer ! 
 A w hite-winged angel lingering there. 
 
 O tell me not that prayer is lost, 
 
 Or weak the human cry 
 To save, 'ere ruin's line is crossed. 
 
 Where crushed hearts die ; 
 'i'hat they who weep, and work and wait 
 Return unlieard from mercy's gate. 
 
 Would, from diyrest beyond the grave, 
 
 Dear saintCvl tather, thou 
 Couldst learn how strong thou wcrt to save, 
 
 How answered now ; 
 
How he for whom thy tears were given ^ 
 So loved thee and so sought thy heaven. 
 
 x\h, ye who work, and watch and pray, 
 With patient hearts and hands, 
 
 Beside you, on hfe's shadowy way 
 The angel stands; 
 
 And ye shall reap who sow in tears 
 
 The harvest joy of after years. 
 
 87 
 
 BEEFSTEAK. 
 
 I'm half ashamed the truth to tell, 
 
 Yet must it be confessed, 
 There's something of the Cannibal 
 
 About me at the best. 
 I crave no viands rich and rare. 
 
 No dainties that'you've got, 
 But give me in my bill ot fare 
 A beefsteak smoking hot, 
 A beefsteak smoking hot. 
 O luscious morsel, rich and sweet ! 
 O crowning joy of butcher's meat ! . 
 O dish the very gods might eat ! 
 A beefsteak piping hot ! 
 
 One night I passed a butcher's shop, 
 --• - As hungry as a crane, ^ 
 
 
88 
 
 And there I spied a mutton chop . 
 
 A gainst the window pane ! 
 And just a little way from that, 
 
 In beautiful relief, 
 Encircled by its rim of fat, 
 
 A noble round of beef. 
 
 A noble round of beef. 
 I paused awhile, then turned aside. 
 Came back again and almost cried, 
 So loved and yet so long denied I 
 
 That noble round of beef. 
 
 I had a dream that night when I 
 
 Half famished went to bed : 
 I saw an army marching by, 
 
 A butcher at its head ! 
 And every man a trencher bore, 
 
 A mug and mustard pot, 
 And ah ! to try and tempt me sore — 
 A beefsteak smoking hot ! 
 A beefsteak smoking hot ! 
 I screamed with joy — the spell was broke ! 
 From that enchanted dream I woke 
 And found 'twas nothing but a joke, 
 That beefsteak smoking hot 
 
 There's hunger in my heart to-night, 
 A yearning, O how deep ; 
 
89 
 
 Here lies my supper, but the sight ! 
 
 It well nigh makes me weep. 
 A cup of tea, a scrap of pie, 
 
 A marrow bone that's bare, 
 Some scalloped things to please the eye, 
 
 But not a beefsteak there ! 
 
 But not a beefsteak there ! 
 O that some generous friend of mine, 
 Who loves the thing for which 1 pine, 
 Would ask me out some day to dme, 
 
 A nd have a beefsteak there. 
 
 CAPTIVE. 
 
 1 saw a sad, suee' face to-da> 
 
 Pressed to the window pane. 
 Soft liquid eyes of daik, dark grc.y, 
 That lingering looked far, far away 
 Across the summer plain 
 
 So sad the cheek, so thin and white. 
 
 So wan the childish brow. 
 That as 1 sit and muse to night 
 I see them in the pale starlight. 
 They haunt my memory now. 
 
 The flowers were nodding to and fro, 
 
 Their rose-tipped leaves apart, 
 While sang the brooklet soft and low, 
 
90 
 
 The childhood songs she used to know, 
 Back to her listening heart 
 
 The scene around was wondrous fair, 
 
 By vale and river's brim ; 
 Soft summer fragrance filled the air, 
 And still the white cheek rested there 
 
 Till the sweet eyes grew dim. 
 
 What visions froat the far blue skies, 
 
 VS' hat dream of hill and vale, 
 Came with those voiceful memories 
 To light awhile'the pensive eyes 
 And flush a cheek so pale. 
 
 O prisoned heart, in sad unrest ! 
 
 Poor heart, so lone and low, 
 Fain vvnuld I lift thee to my breast, 
 And bear thee to some grassy nest 
 
 Where purple violets blow. 
 
 The longing, lingering, lonely look, 
 
 The >v,i!:, wan cheek so white; 
 The heart that heard the singing brook, 
 The eyes that sought the shady nook. 
 Are in my dreams to-night. 
 
91 
 LOST. 
 
 The winter winds go moaning by, 
 
 As though in sorrow weeping, 
 And all beneath the leaden sky 
 
 In shrouds of snow is sleeping ; 
 But o'er the bleak and trackless waste 
 
 A wanderer lately crossed, 
 While sobs the cold and mournful blast — 
 
 He's lost, lost, lost! 
 God help the soul that's tempest tossed, 
 (iod h«lp the weary wanderer lost. 
 
 O'er yonder wild and resdess wave. 
 The fire-winged storm is flashing, 
 
 By rock and cave deep thunders rave 
 And billows wild are dashing : 
 
 But o'er that seethmg, walling tide 
 A bark but lately crossed. 
 
 And winds are shrieking wild and wide- 
 She's lost, lost, lost ! 
 
 God help the mariner tempest tossed, 
 
 God help the gallant crew that's lost! 
 
 See yonder temple glittering bright 
 
 In all its tinseled glory. 
 There vice enslaved with ghastly might 
 
 The weak, the young and hoary. 
 
92 
 
 7 here, tempted by some wanton's spells, 
 A youth the threshold crossed, 
 
 And there, a muffled whisper tells. 
 He's lost, lost, lost! 
 
 God help the blind that's tempest tossed, 
 
 God help the young so sadly lost! 
 
 See yonder hearth so silent now, 
 
 That wife so lone and cheerless, 
 A drunkard's victim, once that brow, 
 
 That home to hnn were peerless. 
 Ihe wan and mournful face reveals 
 
 What blight that young life crossed, 
 The soft, sad eye to heaven appeals — - 
 
 lie's lost, lost, lost! 
 God help the wife so tempest tossed, 
 God help the drunkard madly lost I 
 
 O Father I Thou whose kindly deeds 
 
 No human life can number, 
 \\' hose generous hand the raven feeds. 
 
 Whose eylids know no slumber. 
 Wilt thou in mercy guard and guide 
 
 The heart by sorrow crossed ? 
 Shield thou the tempted and the tried. 
 
 And save, O save the lost ! 
 Fold to thy breast the tempest tossed. 
 
 And save the soul not wholly lost 
 
93 
 
 r 
 I 
 
 WHEN THE DARK HOUR COMES 
 
 When the dark hour comes, O to whom will you fly ? 
 Where hide when the angel of death passes by ? 
 What hand will )ou grasp as'you enter the gloom ? 
 What star glimmer o'er you, what lamp will illume ? 
 
 When the dark hour comes, as it comes to us all, 
 \\ hose arm will support you, on whom will you call ? 
 What shadow of light from the past will arise, 
 A pall o'er your heart or a beam in your skies ? 
 
 Too oft in our pride and self glory we dream 
 There is much in our lives overy fault to redeem. 
 No avenger is near us, no phantom we dread, 
 As we bury the dust of our sins with the dead. 
 
 But alas ! from the grave will their ashes return, 
 Ana kindled tohfe in our souls will they burn? 
 The avenger but waits, and he'll smite for the past. 
 When the dark hour comes, as it comes at the last. 
 
 O fool! but to fancy that help will be near, - 
 
 That the angel of peace at your call will appear, 
 W hen you clothe every page of the past with a pall. 
 O'er whose darkness no tear of repentance will fall. 
 
94 
 
 O Saviour of life ! while its brightness is by, 
 Teach us to remember the cloud draweth nigh ; 
 'Tis thine and thine only, to lighten the gloom, 
 And thine to support as we enter the tomb. 
 
 . , ' .■ . ■; .,. • i . . , .'1 .. r ''■■■:■ >' ■' ■ 
 
 W hen the dark hour comes, O to whom will you fly ? 
 Where hide when the angel of death passeth by ? 
 What hand will you grasp as you enter the gloom ? 
 What star glimmer o'er you, what lamp will illume ? 
 
 EVKNIXG 
 
 'Tis eve, yet the robin still linge-.j 
 
 To pour out his heart ere he flies— 
 Ere night with her shadowy fingers 
 
 Hath plucked the last beam from the skies. 
 
 The heat of the noontide is over. 
 
 The songbirds are hushed in the trees ; . 
 
 1 have watched for thy steps like a lover, 
 Sweet hour of the balm and the breeze. 
 
 How soft art the shadows thou 'rt sending, • 
 
 How sweet is thy blush in the vale, • 
 And afar where thy ros^s are blending, 
 
 One star watches softly and pale. 
 
 'J he morn hath a fairy -like splendor, 
 
 'i he night hath a glory divine : 
 But thou comest with joy ever tender — 
 
 1 he hght and the shadow are thine. 
 
 -. — >.^ 
 
95 
 
 The voice of the summer wind sighing, 
 Low murmuring, soft through the gien ; 
 
 The call of the night wind replying — 
 Sweet twilight, we hail thee again. 
 
 Come, breath ^ on my brow ere thou goest, 
 
 O summer wind, gentle and kind, 
 There is peace in the kiss thou bestowest — 
 
 Thou leavest no, sorrow behmd. . ' * 
 
 1 have wooed thee when far o'er the mountain 
 Thy wing with the night dew was cold, 
 
 And at morn w hen the purple lipped fountain 
 Its tales of thy tenderness told. 
 
 1 have telt on my cheek thy caressing, -^ 
 
 And touched thy light pinions with ioy, 
 
 As they swept o'er that vale like a blessing, 
 
 1 he home of my heart when a boy. ,; 
 
 '1 hy wings vvith soft fragrance are laden. 
 
 Thy breath is with melody sweet : 
 Hast thou come from the land of bright Aiden, -, 
 
 Or trampled the rose with thy feet ? 
 
 Sweet hour of the balm and the breezes ; 
 
 Sweet song of the mu) muring streams, t ,. 
 When beauty enchants all she seizes, . ■>■ 
 
 And fills the soft night vvith her dreams. '■ 
 
 4 •♦■-• 
 
96 
 
 TO A SLEEPING CHILD. 
 Rest thee, beloved ! Bright be thy dreams to-night. 
 
 Bathed as thou art in slumber still and deep ; 
 Mine the last face that faded from thy sight 
 
 When thy dear head fell on my heart asleep. 
 
 Love is so potent, it can shield thee long 
 
 And shape thy dreams With more than earthly power, 
 It lights all life, and makes the watcher strong 
 
 To guard thy slumbers till the waking hour. 
 
 Will 1 be with thee, darling, where thou art, . 
 
 In that sweet dreamland but to childhood known, 
 Or wilt thou still seem nesthng^on the heart 
 
 Whose tender beating answers to thine own ? 
 
 The lovelight lingers on thy laLy biow: 
 Thy lips, balm breathing, like two rosebuds part. 
 
 Broods not some angel o'er thy pillow now. 
 Kissing the dreamlight round thy quiet heart. 
 
 Yet midst the throngs that look upon His face 
 No N\ atcher's heart hath deep«r love t han mine ; 
 
 Time hath not chilled a father's fond embrace. 
 Nor stained the lip, sweet lamb, that presses ihme. 
 
 How much of heaven upon our homes is pressed; 
 
 How low it bends the hungry heart to meet, 
 An Elim's shade where weary feet may re^t ' 
 
 By Marah's waters one dear spring is sweet. 
 
97 
 
 Rest thee, beloved ! My heart keeps watch to-night, 
 And guards th) slumber, O so still and deep! 
 
 Mine the last face that faded from thy sight 
 As thy dear head fell on that heart asleep. 
 
 TO M. A. H., 
 
 ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING DAY, 
 
 I've looked upon your face to-day — , - ; 
 
 To me still fair! - . . :.. ; 
 
 But girlhood's bloom has passed away, , . . . . 
 And there are threads of silver gray . ;, 
 
 Amidst your hair. , . ■ 
 
 And yet I felt that time had shed 
 Its holiest blessings on that head 
 Though from your cheek the light had fled— 
 The peace was there. ' ■ .: • 
 
 When years ago 1 took your hand 
 For life allied ' - l C 
 
 We started through a fairy land 
 With many a dream that two had planned, 
 
 Yet long denied. 
 What though life's rosier liglit is gone, - - • 
 And tempest rocked, and worn, and wan, 
 There's something left to lean upon— • .- % 
 The true and tried. - ;■■. ; v ,* 
 
 •^ 
 
 n^'- 
 
 ''iif..'^* -»%. 
 
98 
 
 Look round ! Wheie are the friends we knew 
 
 In years gone by — 
 Gone, gone ! — yet yonder heaven oi lilue 
 Is still as bright to me and you, 
 
 And God as nigh. 
 The storm may come, the stoiin may go 
 And hght our shadow, weal or woe. 
 They'll find us strong and leave us so — 
 
 Our rock on high I 
 
 And round us is a happy band — 
 
 Hearts that are dear; 
 We may not tread the fairy land, 
 But heart to heart and hand to hand 
 
 We'll know no fear. 
 And when at last we pass away, 
 They'll weep and watch beside our clay 
 And kiss those threads of silver gray 
 
 As I do here. 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 Sweet star of summer's eventide 
 
 O'er yonder sea of light, 
 Where many a cloudlet cnmson^dyed 
 
 Is cradled on the night. 
 And back from many a purple isle 
 The darkness rolleth for awhile ; 
 As sunset'o'er that billowy sea 
 Unveils her heart of hearts to thee. 
 
99 
 
 I watched th> coming long ago, 
 
 When but a pensive child, 
 Where Vincent's dark blue mountains glow 
 
 By Huron wide and wild. 
 And softly, lovingly as now 
 The night dews kissed my throbbing brow ; 
 I felt with bird, and breeze, and flower. 
 The witcl^ of the sunset hour. 
 
 O far off home of boyhood's dreams- 
 Dear land remembered long— 
 
 The made ot the mountam streams. 
 Thy valleys filled with song. 
 
 Through blighted hope; Through pain and tears; 
 
 Through wandering and through burdened years; 
 
 Denied, unsought, and tempest driven, 
 
 Ye'tell of rest, and home, and heaven. 
 
 T o-night I— and such a night as this— 
 
 His touch on yonder skies. 
 Where clouds are bathed in Eden bliss, 
 
 And stars in splendor rise. 
 1 bless Uim in the bonds he's cleft ; 
 The wreath of hope— of joy that's left ; 
 The shield and shelter ever nigh. 
 The peace that cometh by and by. 
 
 1 turn ficm these thy works to thee, 
 - O refuge of our race! .- - ...-^^ 
 
 
100. : 
 
 If earthly scenes be fair to see 
 * What is thy dwelling place? 
 
 The glowing sunshine's crimson light; 
 The splendor of the starry night; 
 'J he rainbow arched from zone to zone 
 Are shadows only of thy throne. 
 
 Thou stoopest with a tender heart 
 
 To every little thing ; 
 A refuge and a rock thou art, 
 
 A Father and'a King! 
 Did not life's darkness dun our sight ; 
 Its soirows hide thine own sweet light, 
 How much of goodness could we see? 
 IJow much of love that tells of thee ? 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Behold she bows her crested head 
 At Freedom's sainttd shrine : 
 
 She feels the arm of Him who led 
 The prilgrims was divine ; 
 
 And they who bled for heme are frte 
 
 Famed with an immortality. 
 
 With them it w:is a glorious strife 
 For freedom and for right ; 
 
 And home, and liberty, and life. 
 Their watchwords in the fight ; 
 
 The battle call that won for them 
 
 A nation's glorious diadem.