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Ireetings from filaf/floi^er Eand 
 
 •'^mmmmmmmBmii^ "-'<^^-^ --a^^'^'-'^i^kiws^j 
 
 
 
 By a. l. o. 
 
 4 1 
 

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 Krcetings from mayflower Land 
 
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 By a. l. o. h. 
 
THE END OF THE STORM. 
 
 The day before, a ruthless August gale 
 Had fiercely swept the Nova Scotia Shores 
 
 Beyond our sheltered bay ; 
 And news of wreck and loss far down the coast 
 Had touched our hearts for those that silent bled 
 
 And those that cursed the day. 
 
 As tho' our pitying eyes could reach to them 
 We looked from seaward windows, as we talked, 
 
 To the tossing sea outside ; 
 And as it swept across the harbor mouth 
 In sullen swellings rolling out its wrath, 
 
 A great wave turns aside. 
 
 And as it rushes in along the base of a cliflf 
 It leaps upon a ragged pile of rock 
 
 And breaks and scatters far, 
 Just as another, following in its wake, 
 Leaps, breaks and sends its waters, streaked with white 
 
 To the calm within the bar. 
 
 Another comes, like a laughing, saucy girl 
 Knowing her power in her beauty lies — 
 
 And slaps the tall rock's face ; 
 But by the black cliff's solemn strength defied 
 It dances back and flaunts its glittering foam 
 
 Like a robe of snowy lace. 
 
 And the glorious sunshine touches all the scene. 
 And offers calm and peace and courage new 
 
 To hearts crushed and forlorn ; 
 And it weans our thoughts from the awful and the dark. 
 The terror is past, beauty and blessed hope 
 
 Come with the end of the storm. 
 
 <i^'Ul 
 
DRIFTING. 
 
 I remember how we drifted, careless where, 
 
 Tho' a moonlit track invited, far and fair, 
 
 And the cove lay glassy still. 
 
 In the shadow of the hill, 
 
 With its scattered home lights gleaming here and there. 
 
 And our conversation drifted, without note 
 
 Round and round, back and forth, as our boat • 
 
 And the pauses filled the ear 
 
 With the ripples soft and clear 
 
 At our bow, the happy hour we were afloat. 
 
 Now our paths apart have drifted, far and sure, 
 
 But the memory of that eve so sweet and pure 
 
 Un each heart is fixed forever. 
 
 Till eternity discover 
 
 That unspoken earthly friendships shall endure. 
 
MEMORY SET RIGHT. 
 
 I had thought it was the brook that charmed me then 
 As it slid along the grassy, level spots, 
 Or danced and tore headlong among the rocks ; 
 So I went back to that same spot in after years 
 To find sweet rest and taste of merriment, 
 But found it not. 
 
 Then I thought it was the pine trees and the wind. 
 That had once in summer days entranced my soul. 
 And that it was their whispering high o'er head 
 Or strewing slender shadows on the earth ; 
 So I sought beneath those trees again that joy, 
 But felt it not. 
 
 No ! It surely was the birds that made my heart so 
 
 light 
 That my life had seemed all song and harmony ; 
 And I thought to banish discord from my life, 
 By listening to the burst of morning song 
 Or the sweeter evening twittt i aiong the trees — 
 But care remained. 
 
 Then I hiftv it was the friend of those dear days — 
 Our souls had touched and made sweet harmony ; 
 The world was light because her eyes were there, 
 And the wood is not the same, for she is gone, 
 And nothing but the echo of her voice 
 Can I find there. 
 
BADDECK, CAPE BRETON 
 
 A PICTURE. 
 
 BEFORE, a beauteous bay of fair Bras d'Or, 
 With Spectacle Isle and high Beinn Breagh's point 
 Thrust boldly out to meet the incoming boat. 
 
 BEHIND, the mountains stretch, from out whose 
 
 depths 
 Far-.«ounding waterfalls pour out the heart's blood of 
 
 the wooded hills 
 Into green intervals, all river- veined. 
 
 BETWEEN, the narrow strip of quaint old town. 
 
 I 
 
 ^ j» ^ o» 
 
 MISTS. 
 
 Light fogs shifting, drifting down the glen. 
 Settling, showing hilltops now and then ; 
 Slowly rising, spreading, hovering there, 
 Stealing soft o'er head in morning air ; 
 Coming ghostly, as memories, thought would grasp 
 Haunt me sometimes, creeping from the past ; 
 Fading, as realities Love would keep, 
 Leave us full of longing vague and deep. 
 
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 A GLIMPSE AND A THOUGHT. 
 
 Only a pool in a low-lying dell, 
 
 Seen for a moment, but none could tell 
 
 In a moment's breath, the beauty disclosed 
 
 By that half-hidden picture of sweet repose. 
 
 Of the log 'neath the surface, which solemn decay 
 Is mantling with mosses, brown, green and gray ; 
 Of the full life young saplings which lean o'er the 
 
 brim 
 And smile at their shadows that waver within. 
 
 Death close beside Life— but beautiful, too ; 
 Sometimes hearts turn away from the bright and the 
 
 new, 
 And eyes grow a- weary of movement and glow. 
 And lovingly turn to the quiet below. 
 So, a time-weary soul, as it nears waters deep. 
 Sees rest everlasting, beyond the death sleep. 
 
 nrasp 
 
INGONISHE, CAPE BRETON. 
 
 Fair Ingonishe, fair Ingonishe ! 
 
 Our hearts turn back to thee, 
 To restful hours where silence dwelt 
 
 O'er field and sun-kissed sea. 
 
 O Ingonlahe, fair Ingonishe ! 
 
 Once more we feel the spell 
 Of cliffs where sweet ground cedar trailed, 
 Of granite beach whose drowsy tide 
 
 Brought peace when evening fell. 
 
 Sweet grassy walks of Ingonishe ! 
 
 To where the trout pools hide 
 'Mid circling hills whose snow-fed falls 
 
 Drop down the wooded side. 
 
 Bold "Smoky" point of Ingonishe! 
 
 Stern king of all that coast. 
 The glories viewed fro. n thy tall crown 
 
 Have made us love thee most. 
 
 Wild Ingonishe, wild Ingonishe ! 
 
 Our thoughts go back to thee — 
 To awe-inspiring thoughts of God 
 
 Beside thy storm-lashed sea. 
 
 When tempests rage at Ingonishe 
 Men's hearts are chill with fear, 
 
 For loss of life and hard-earned gains 
 Is part of every year. 
 
 Thy headlands bold, thy rocky coves 
 
 No raptures bring these men ; 
 They ask alone for life and food — 
 We ask that in the future's good 
 
 We see thee once again. 
 
CHILDREN THRICE, 
 
 Thrice are we children in our short lives— thrice, 
 And first when we are little 
 
 When all the world is big, and all so true, 
 And life so long we cannot ^w^^j the time 
 When all life's work is done, 
 
 But days are full of joys, and everything is new. 
 
 Then, when we are in love, for then we do 
 Such silly, childish things 
 
 That we should blush to have the children know. 
 So little disappoints, and just a word 
 A sudden pleasure brings. 
 
 And tell-faces secret feelings show. 
 
 Then, when the helplessness of age creeps on 
 
 And others do for us, 
 The steady frame grows weary — work days cease. 
 The scheming mind is simple once again. 
 Children — but with regrets ? 
 
 No, these have faded in the growing light of peace. 
 
I AND THE LAKE. 
 
 The great Lake's waves 
 
 Rolled in at my stranger feet in pompous play, 
 And smilingly asked, 
 
 " Are we not as good as the Sea you have dreamed of to-day?' » 
 "Nay," I said "nay. 
 
 Your beautiful waves wash the same pebbles hour after hour 
 Why not come up, 
 
 And drive boastful man back— back, by your power ; 
 I dare you, recede, 
 
 Drawn out by the closing strength of the Unseen Hand ; 
 Come, leave weed-covered rocks 
 
 As dry as the hill-tops afar on the land." 
 
 " lyook far out," it said, 
 
 " Your eye cannot reach to the shores where my great 
 ships go. ' ' 
 " Nay, it cannot," I said, 
 
 " But the shores are your own, not the lands where the 
 strange fruits grow — 
 
 Nor the Islands of palms, 
 
 Nor the bleak, snowy shores of the fur-trader's gains. 
 Our ships in their wake 
 Bring a breath of new life, and a stir in the old man's veins. ' ' 
 " But, how balmy," it said, 
 
 " Are my breezes that play on your sun-burned cheek "— 
 " Oh ! My heart " I broke in, 
 
 " How we loD.- for the salt moistened palm and the sting of 
 the brine. 
 And the cool morning fog. 
 
 As it draws out the scent of the clover and pine. ' ' 
 Let us hasten away 
 
 To the land of the Sea we shall dream of to-night 
 There live in its life, 
 Till Eternity's Ocean rolls in on our sight. 
 
THIS QTY AND THAT, 
 
 My vision here is limited by city walls, and brick 
 
 and stone, 
 By human faces all unknown to me ; 
 But one day I shall stand, my hand within the Christ's 
 Companionship and glory filling me — 
 And watch the wonder of the swinging worlds. 
 
 Here, I but listen to the din and clatter of the city 
 
 streets, 
 Discordant human voices piercing all ; 
 But one day I shall soar, confusion left behind, 
 With waves of sound celestial moving me 
 And, soaring, rest in music sweet and true. 
 
 j» •)* «j* J* 
 
 GROWING OLD GRACEFULLY.— (A Fragment.) 
 
 Let not the years be wrenched from hands that bleed 
 
 with clinging ; 
 But, with the right ^ forgiving kisses to December 
 
 flinging ; 
 Hold out the left^ in hope, to January. 
 
AUTUMN IN NOVA SCOTIA. 
 
 How lavishly He paints, 
 
 In green, crimson, scarlet and gold, 
 How varied the design 
 
 In delicate tracing or bold — 
 A Master Wind these autumn glories hold. 
 
 Although he needs must give 
 
 Winter sleep to the woods and flowers, 
 Yet the beauty of Autumn's enough 
 
 To delight us till Spring sun and showers- 
 A Jpving Heart these Autumn glories hold. 
 
 J^ J^ Jt jk 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 You cannot come to me— I go to you 
 
 Some happy day ; 
 The way cannot be dark, since Christ and you 
 
 Have passed that way. 
 
 I cannot give you aught— but you to me 
 
 May this bequeath. 
 The mantle of the brightness of thy life 
 
 Around me wreath. 
 
 I cannot talk to you, but truly you 
 
 Tho' dead, yet speak. 
 Oh ! give a benediction from thy Rest 
 
 For our love's sake. 
 
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