trouble, sir, that bringing Jim home to die ; Mother's face turned white as snow, sir, when the dread- ful news she heard, And father was that cut up, sir, that he could not speak a word. Then Alice, our beautiful Alice, was taken ill one day, And it seem'd to be coming true, sir, what people used to say; She linger'd a week or more, sir, and she seem'd to get so thin, That to keep her away from heaven seem'd to us to be a sin. God called our darling from us, and her spirit went out to Him, And they laid her in the little grave alongside brother Jim. Mother's face I shall never forget, sir, it looked so pale and queer That night when father came home and said that he had had some beer ; Yes, trouble had done its work, sir, and father had taken to drink, 53 And mother was taken poorly, sir, and quickly began to sink. We thought our troubles were great, sir, but oh, they had scarcely begun, For father next lost his work, and our things went one by one. Mother called of me one day, sir, to the bed where she was lying, And taking my hand in hers, sir, she told me she was dying ; She told me to be good, sir, and to put my trust in Him, That then He'd some day call me to go see Alice and Jim; She gave me a beautiful blessing, with her hand laid on my head, But I was too young to know, sir, the meaning of all she said. The doctor said 'twas a lung disease that snapped her life apart, But don't you think with me, sir, the disease was a broken heart ? When mother was taken away, sir, the place seemed cold and bare, And I heard no voice but father's, and that was to curse and swear. Then father married again, sir, and since then no friend I've had My own mother was kind and good, sir, but this one is cruel and bad. I'd rather be taken to mother, sir, than go back home to-night, But my life is not my own, sir, to take it would not be right, So, weary, I home shall go, sir, as soon as I've sold all these Ha'p'ny a box, sir; two for a penny, sir; buy, sir, if you please. 54 A Box of Matches. ON coming across an ancient box With corners of brass and patent locks, Curiosity sharpened, I wanted to see What the box contained, so procured the key, And turning the locks, and removing the catches, I found it was filled to the summit with matches ! The box once belonged to one Mrs. Flint, And matches she made without any stint; The material she used was flesh and not wood, And some of her matches were bad and some good ; She made them for bashful young girls, and for shy men, Or rather for lighting the torches of Hymen ! I took one haphazard, and read it with shame, For I saw that the flint had raised such a flame In the breast of a girl, unsuspecting of wrong, Who had placed her whole faith on a light that ere long Began first to wane, then to flicker, then tire, And she found out the danger of playing with fire. The next was a match that, as soon as 'twas struck, Broke into a blaze of most brilliant luck ! It was of a young couple who, wedded for life, Passed through the ordeal without 'anger or strife ; Their lives not a fiery flash cast a glimpse on, Like a vesta that has not been headed with brimstone. The next plainly shewed Mrs. Flint sought to catch Two opposite natures for making a match ! The heart of the lover love's fire had burned, But it seemed that the maid his advances had spurned, 55 She scorned his addresses, yet not at all raved he 'Tis the match that won't strike that's attended with safety. The next was a story of old age and youth, But this was a match quite regardless of truth, For gold versus beauty all sympathy lacks One all flicker, the other one moulded in wax Doth steadily burn like a well-lighted taper, While the flicker goes out with a puff and a caper ! The next one I read was a too common match, One with plenty of fire and plenty of scratch ! Two lives closely tied, yet in nature unlike, They kept up between them a continual strike ! Such matches as these had much better be null, for They savour too much of the regions of sulphur. I next took a handful and looked at a few, There were good and bad samples, but all of them true; But having no time any more to peruse, I collected the lot and applying a fuse, In a volume of smoke, and a number of flashes, The whole box of matches reduced I to ashes. 56 Found in the Snow. Where am I ? And who are you, sir ? How cold ! Ah, yes, I know ; I was weary and footsore with walking, and I sank down in the snow. I've walked a long- way to-day, sir, and rested against this tree Poor woman ! you're kind indeed, sir, to pity the likes of me. To your home ! It is now too late, sir, for my end is drawing nigh, And I think if you knew my life you would leave me alone to die ! You wouldn't ! Indeed you are good, sir ; oh, would there were more like you, The world would be happier, and many would then have less cause to rue. What ! tell you my story ! I will, sir, but do not turn from me, I pray, I've suffered a deal, as you'll know, sir, when you've heard what I have to say, And if you think fit you can tell it, that is when I'm laid at rest Just raise me a little oh, thank you for resting my head on your breast. 1 lived up there, at the hall, sir, you start ! and you know me now ! But let me go on with my story, time is short as you must allow : As I said, I lived there, at the hall, sir, a careless and happy child, And I knew not the meaning of trouble, joy alone on my life had smiled. 57 So the years passed on, happy years to me, then a change came over my life, I'd a secret, sir; 'twas a new-born charm, and romance in my heart was rife. I wandered the \vood one morning", and here, at this very spot, I met him, and, oh, that meeting- I have never yet once forgot ! That I met him again and again, sir, I think there's no need to tell 'Tis the old, old story ; I loved, sir, not wisely, but, oh, too well ! Of our meetings I'd not to tell, sir ; he'd a reason for that, he said ; I agreed, but far better for me had I listened to duty instead. He told me he loved me only and would through the future years, I believed in his words, but often my heart would grow heavy with fears. So our meetings went on till at last, sir, he asked me with him to fly, But I thought of my father and mother, sir, and then I began to cry. He soothed me with loving words, sir, and I ielt that I loved him so, That before we parted that night I had promised with him to go ! It was Christmas Eve, seven years ago, that I took that midnight flight Oh ! the workings of Heaven are just, sir 'tis just seven years to-night ! I stole from my home like a thief, sir, and a pang shot across my heart, As I thought of the ties of affection I seemed to be tearing apart ; 58 And I tried to ask Heaven for strength, but I could only utter a cry, As upwards I gazed, and saw nothing- but a cold and relentless sky. He met me and spoke words of comfort, which chased all my fears away, And we travelled the whole of that night, sir, and part of the following day. Then the new life began, I enjoyed it, 'twas a life full of pleasure to me, And I never once thought of my folly, my heart was too joyous and free. And then, I wrote home, sir, to tell them how happy I was, but in vain, For they never once answered my letters though I wrote still again. and again. So a twelvemonth passed by, then I found, sir, that he who had led me astray Was tiring at last, and I saw, sir, his love was quick passing away ; Till one day, in a passion, he left me as he told me that I was free, And I waited and watched for his coming, but he never came back to me. The whole truth of the wrong I had done flashed as lightning across my brain, But I thought of my child yes, a boy, sir and the thought eased my heart of its pain. But an illness came on, yes, a long one ; brain fever it was, so they said, And when I was able to bear it they told me my baby was dead ! Left alone in the world, not a friend, sir, I tried to get something to do, But I'd not been accustomed to work, and they all seemed to know it too. 59 How I wished, oh, how often I wished, sir, that I in my illness had died, But I thought to myself, why live, and I went to the river side ! I once more tried to ask Heaven for strength, but again saw that pitiless sky, And I turned from the place like a coward, for I had not the courage to die. After then ! Ah, me ! I was mad, sir, and reckless, and never could tell How it was that I lost all my pride, but I seemed not to care, and I fell. Five years I have lived but there, sir, if it has been a life of shame, I've been punished enough, and indeed, sir, I think I was not all to blame. But to make a long story short, sir, I felt that my end was near, And I wanted once more to look on the faces I loved so dear ; I wanted my father's blessing, and I wanted my mother's kiss What ! you will give it me for them ! Heaven bless you, sir, for this. When I'm gone, will you give this to mother ? that at least, sir, is undefiled, It's a locket containing my portrait, one taken when I was a child. No, I cannot pray ; I've forgotten, sir, the prayers that in childhood I knew Oh, yes, if you'll say one for me I'll repeat it, sir, after you : " Forgive a repentant sinner that in Thee I at peace may live; O Father in Heaven have mtrcy, for the sake of Thy Son forgive," 6o Ah, yes, that has done me good, sir, for my heart does not feel so sad ; God is good, and I think He's heard it, although I have been so bad. Hark ! the bells ! it is Christmas morning, and they summon my soul away, I am passing through Night's gloomy portals to the light of Eternal Day. Oh, father, oh, mother, forgive me seven years ago just seven Good bye, sir, and tell them at home I found a rest at last in Heaven. What ! you are my father ! thank Heaven ! and you've heard all I have had to tell Take me close to your heart and kiss me, and kiss me for mother as well. Oh, yes, I am perfectly happy, and am now not afraid to die, For I know I am now forgiven, and my home is beyond the sky. 6i A Happy Christmas. A CHRISTMAS greeting when the postman knocks A present, called by some a "Christmas box" A mind at peace, a heart that is content A day that has been well and wisely spent A table laden well with Christmas fare, Good health and temper for the good things there A nature kind to think it not too tame To join the children in some Christmas game A room unlighted when the darkness falls, And mystic shadows dancing on the walls A crackling yule-log placed within the grate, Emitting sparks that seem with joy elate Doors fastened, keeping out the cold and snow A fire casting forth a ruddy glow, Which, all around, a rosy hue doth shed A room bedecked with berries white and red, With holly varied, and with evergreen A family gathering, making glad the scene As, 'round the blazing yule-log sat, each one Provoketh laughter with some harmless fun A thought of pity for the poor who know No Christmas cheer, nor fire's ruddy glow All these, and each made pure with thought divine, A happy Christmas then indeed is thine. 62 On receiving a piece of Bride=Cake. O WEDDING-CAKE, now laid before me, You are delicious to the taste ! The love-lorn maiden does adore thee, And seeks your season with much haste ! Of Love's sweet draught she drinks full measure. And pictures an enchanted scene, To then, perhaps, repent at leisure, And wish that love had never been ! Whilst thinking of Life's many phases, Of all its doubts of wrong and right, Fond fancy for a moment raises This picture to my inner sight : A simple maiden, sentimental, With trusting heart at once " to let," True love to be the yearly rental, She caring nothing more to get ! Until at last there comes the lover, With speeches fine for willing ear, And earth seems fair as heaven above her, Without a shadow or a fear. Then follow pleasant lovers' meetings, Until at last is named the day; And then the neighbours' kindly greetings For love and happiness for aye. At last the wedding day a carriage, An ending of the girlish life ; A visit to the church a marriage, A blushing, smiling, happy wife. 63 A parting from each dear relation, To live with one her heart did choose Now speeding- to the railway station Amid a shower of rice and shoes. A wedding-cake, cut up in slices, With smaller pieces sent away; 'Tis but a taste, but quite suffices To bring good luck as people say. A honeymoon passed o'er in pleasure, A coming back to worldly cares, Perhaps to find out, at her leisure, Her married life is sown with tares ! A twelvemonth hence she sits in sorrow, A shadow o'er her life is cast, Her daily pray'r being that the morrow May glimmer of the happy past. Ye love-lorn maidens pray take warning, And say not "yes" before you sleep, For if you wait until the morning You then may have less cause to weep. All you who would accept the fetter Should well in mind the part rehearse. For marriage may be all for better, And yet it may be all for worse. My Darling. MY darling- does my heart illume, She is so sweetly fair ! Her cheeks are like the peach's bloom, And silken is her hair. Rich sunny ring-lets crown her head, And frame her bonny face ; In every heart a joy is shed With all her childish grace. She has a pair of dainty feet, And such a dainty hand She lays in mine whene'er we meet, And well, you understand ! She has a pair of sweet blue eyes, Which rove about so sly, And when I talk she nods replies As if she were so shy. My darling has such winning ways, And has a smile so sweet, And pretty little things she says Whene'er we chance to meet. You ask, who can my darling be ! Ah, well, it must be told That Alice is her name, and she Is only three years old ! Snowflake. A SXOWFLAKE fell, all pure and white, Upon the ground it lay ; The sun looked down with smile so bright, The snowflake passed away. So doth the pure and tender light Of heaven descend this day, To cheer the weary life, ere night Shall come with shadows grey. 66 A Portrait. ONLY two eyes of cerulean blue, Reflecting 1 a soul that is pure and true, Roving and sparkling- with mischief and fun, Merry as wavelets that leap in the sun. Only two lips that are temptingly sweet, Giving a pleasure whenever they greet, Rippling with laughter so joyous and glad, Acting as sunshine on hearts that are sad. Only a smile that illumines the face, Lit with the light of a heavenly grace, Sweet as the flowers that nod to the sun, Smiling a welcome for every one. Only a face that an artist might paint, Type of the beauty Madonna, or saint, Looking so happy, no sign of a care, Only a face for an angel to wear. Only a head rippling over with curls, Womanly seeming, yet only a girl's, Proud with the purity crowning its youth, Bending alone in the presence of Truth. Only a voice, as the bright laughing rills, Free as the wind coming over the hills, Gladsome and gay as it echoes along, Tender in speaking and plaintive in song. Only a heart, as it throbs in a breast, Offering to Love a perpetual rest Only a love that is tenderly given, Touched with the glory and sweetness of heaven. 67 Only a portrait ! 'tis all that is left Only a memory ! of all else bereft Living in picture, in thought, and in heart, Thus her fair image will never depart. 68 A Plateful of Romance. THERE stands a little cot, Beneath a spreading tree, Just such a lovely spot As one need wish to see. In summer, on its eaves, The birds do sit and sing", But with the falling- leaves To other climes take wing. It has a garden trim Where perfumed flowers grow, Except when winter grim Doth cover all with snow. A maiden once lived there, And she had eyes ot blue, And braids of golden hair, And cheeks of rosy hue. Her life was bright, and she Was happy all day long ; Her heart was glad and free As lark's most joyous song. But on a certain day A change in her took place ! A Knight rode by that way And saw the maiden's face. But he was in disguise, And thought thus to deceive! But in the maiden's eyes He favour did receive. 69 And oh ! she loved him well, And oh ! she loved him true, But words could never tell Such love, so deep it grew I He praised her golden hair, He filled her heart with bliss,. He told her she was fair, And asked her to be his. Her heart he woo'd and won, Begged her with him to flee, And swore by moon and sun He'd ever constant be ! Her love too pure to stray, She scorned the proffered flight- The Knight then went away, In far-off lands to fight. She, waiting, never heard Since when he did depart, There came no sign, no word, To ease her aching heart ! The roses left her cheeks, The lustre left her eye 'Tis one of Cupid's freaks For love to pine and die. When summer-time had fled, And winter cold did reign, The fair young maid lay dead, And death had stilled her pain. They laid her in a grave, And left her all alone Where willows sadly wave, With just a little stone 70 To mark the spot and tell Her name to passers-by, And none who saw could quell The rising" tear and sigh ! A year passed by, or more, A horseman came that way, Two spurs of gold he wore, And he in bright array ; It was the Knight come back, And to the cot he sped, Alas ! and oh, alack ! To find his love was dead ! He sought the churchyard drear, The snow was on the ground, He wandered there and here, Then saw the stone and mound. He shed some silent tears, Which eased his heart of pain ; He vowed, in coming years, To never love again ! He left the sacred spot, And from that very day The people knew him not, For he had gone for aye. This tale's not true one whit ! And so I ought to state From what I fashioned it A painting on a plate. A Birthday Greeting. I COULD not let thy birthday pass Without a word of greeting ! With changeful years, and life, alas, So swiftly o'er us fleeting. For oft a little word, once said, Will make a burden lighter, And looking" back to years long dead Reflect a moment brighter. And so a word from me, to-day, May help to make thee cheerful, And comfort thee, as sunlit ray, In moments dark and tearful. Then mayst thou find to-day a joy Around thy heart caressing, A joy that knoweth no alloy, But fraught with every blessing. 72 By the River. BY the river sits a maiden, Where the waters kiss her feet, And the air with sounds is laden, Sounds so sad, and yet so sweet. From the wood, and copse, and dingle, Comes the warblers' merry song. And the river's murm'rings mingle. As it gaily flows along. And the buttercups and daisies Nod their heads upon the bank, And the lark their beauty praises, Though they are of lowly rank. Everything is bathed in glory, And the wind from tree to tree Tells the leaves some quaint old story, And they shake themselves with glee. And the maiden's thoughts are drifting To the World of Fancy, where She, unto the skies uplifting, Builds her castles in the air. And the breezes come to woo her. Come upon the river's breast, And they bring a message to her, Telling of sweet peace and rest. And the maiden, in her dreaming. Raises up a picture fair, As a ray of sunlight, gleaming, Lends a brightness to despair. What strange fancies thoughts inspire I This the maiden paints in space Must be all her soul's desire, Judging from her love-lit face ! 73 Hark ! a faint splash in the water, Yet the little trifling" sound Back again to earth has brought her Fall her castles to the ground! But a pebble and a bubble Breaks the maiden's thoughtful stream, Even as a sudden trouble Breaks a life's long happy dream. Sits the maiden disenchanted, Till at once she is surprised, On her lips a kiss is planted, And her dream is realised. At her side now sits her lover, Nature's voices all astir, Love may live in Heaven above her. Earth holds love enough for her. 74 A Portrait. LIKE a lily,, tall and fair, she stands, With all a lily's simple grace In her, as bud to lovely flow'r expands. Sweet budding womanhood we trace. She has a face so young, so sweet and fair, Which tells the heart is free from guile, Surmounted by a fringe of curling hair A face that charms with winning smile. She has a pair of tender loving eyes, Yet lurking there is mischiefs light Dreamy and soft as blue unclouded skies, Or sparkling like the stars of night. She has a voice, with music in its tone, So tender in its every word That other hearts, though feeling sad and lone, Rejoice whene'er that voice is heard. She has a pair of sweet and tempting lips, From which gay laughter ripples forth, There bees might long to take, in honied sips, A nectar of such fragrant worth. But best of all, she has a loving heart Beating for each within her breast, And thinking that I own one little part I leave to dearer ones the rest. I 75 Elsie Gray : A CHRISTMAS STORY. THE night was dark and chilly, and the clouds were hanging low, And people said ere long there'd be a heavy fall of snow, And so they hurried onward, eager faces passing by, 'Twas Christmas Eve, and each one had some little thing to buy. Shop windows blazed with light, and offered tempting things for sale, And happy faces gathered 'round, and faces wan and pale, While people, laden with good things, passed quickly on their way, Perchance to make some poor heart glad upon the Christmas day. And so the hours passed along, and silent grew each street, As to each home they wandered all the merry, bustling feet ; 'Twas then a childish face \vas seen a sad and wistful face, And in the tear-stained cheek, a childish sorrow one might trace. It was a toy-shop window, that the child had lingered by, And gazing on the painted things, it heaved a bitter sigh; Poor child, it was a tempting feast that lay before its eyes, Each bauble quite a wondrous thing, each little toy a prize. 7'6 No one to love her, none to love, her home was in the street, No glowing fire-side had she to warm her tiny feet; No soft and cosy bed in which her weary self to lay, To-night a lonely Christmas waif was little Elsie Gray. She was a lovely, fair-haired child, with blue and honest eyes, A face that angels might have wished to have beyond the skies; A wanderer in the streets, yet none could tell from whence she came, They only knew that she was there, that Elsie was her name. And as she stood and gazed upon the things that seemed so grand, A stranger passed and placed a doll into her tiny hand, A noble action, some would say, but then, ah. no, 'twas naught, A passing act of kindness, done, perhaps, without a thought ! The child looked up, the man was gone, but had he stayed to speak, He would have seen two silent tears steal down the pale wan cheek ; O man, pass on, you may have sinned, and may have ceased to pray, But those t\vo lonely tears will help to wash the stain away. Poor Elsie cared no longer for the windovvful of toys, A doll was all her heart's desire, the chiefest of her joys, 77 She kissed the little stranger, and she clasped it to her heart, Although she from a mother never learnt a mother's part. She cared not now for chilly winds, nor feared the storm's alarms, She seemed to think of nothing but the doll laid in her arms ; Though hungered, cold, and weary, as she turned her steps away, Yet none that night had heart so light as little Elsie Gray ! She wandered down the silent street and stayed awhile to rest, And soon her eyes were closed in sleep, the doll laid on her breast ; Unconscious ot the frosty air that kissed the fevered face O Father, watch the sleeping child, and shield it with Thy grace. And so the silent hours passed till far into the night, When snow began to quickly fall and clothe the earth in white, But snow may fall, and storms may rage, and chilly winds may blow, For Elsie sleeps the sleep of death beneath the cruel snow. The morning dawned -a Christmas morn and all things seemed so fair, The bells rang out a joyous peal, and gladness filled the air ; 'A merry Christmas" greeting passed as friend with friend did meet, And once again the streets were thronged with merry, bustling feet. The sun sent down his rays to play upon the crystal snow, And soon it felt the power of their tender, genial glow, And as it almost silently, yet slowly, passed away, To passers-by there was revealed the form of Elsie Gray- A stranger's hand it was that raised her from her place of rest, A stranger's hand that found the doll locked closely to her breast, The smile that she had smiled on it still lingered on her face With not a sign of suffering, of sorrow not a trace ! "Christians Awake" rang on the air, "Peace and goodwill on earth," And people stood a moment there and checked their joyous mirth ; " Poor child ! " they spoke in pity as they looked and turned away, Forgetting in their happiness the fate of Elsie Gray. They laid her in a lonely grave, no stone to mark the spot, But if she be forgotten here, ah, well, it matters not ; No one to love her, none to love, on earth she had no friend, And so her soul went out to Him, her Christmas Day to spend. 79 The years have quickly passed away, again 'tis Christmas time, And gladness rings upon the air with every Christmas chime, But let us in our happiness this happy, holy day, Just give a sympathetic thought to little Elsie Gray. So The Soul's Heaven. OH! why do those relentless eyes, Which lend such beauty to her face, Thus make my soul's emotions rise, And cause my heart to leave its place ? The reason's plain beneath their light A soul enchained hath loosed its bond, And if my own could there unite, For heaven I would not look beyond ! My soul would taste this perfect bliss, Nor seek in other realms to rove, Nor would it ask for more than this, For Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love. 8i For Evermore. I WOULD not, love, forget thee, Though thou \vert most unkind, I simply do regret thee, And what is left behind ! The sun may kiss the flowers, And clouds may come between, But with the passing showers The sun again is seen. And thus the Past all joyous, The Present, darkened pain, The Future may decoy us To meet and love again ! But be that as it may, love, My heart is still with thee, And I can only pray, love, That thine may beat for me. In sleeping or in waking, I know not which is best, But though my heart is aching With such a wild unrest, I would not, love, forget thee, Nor what hath passed before, I simply do regret thee Now, and for evermore. 82 A Fragment. THOUGH I in distant lands may roam, Apart from those I love the best, My thoughts will on the shores of home, In sweet remembrance find a rest. 8 3 Night. REST on me dark eyes of splendour,. Let me bask within thy light, Earnest, loving, dreamy, tender, Deep, unfathomed, sweetest night ! Take with all thy magic darkness, Take, oh, take the world away, If thou only with thy brightness, Hov'rest o'er my life for aye ! 8 4 Rosebud. WITHIN a bunch of flowers, Kissed by the summer showers, A modest rosebud cowers. Poor little rosebud ! A maiden holds them loosely, And kisses them profusely, Nor keeps the rosebud closely, Poor little rosebud! Alone, and crushed, and dying, Where winds are softly sighing, Is, by the wayside lying, Poor little rosebud ! To=day and To=morrow. " MY heart is full of tears, My soul is full of sorrow," To-day's uncertain fears Are weeping for to-morrow. But though the past hath been,. To-morrow may be never, There then is no between, And 'tis to-day for ever! As in the silent night, When all the world is sleeping, So is an absent light My soul in darkness keeping. But though alone and sad, I would not be regretting, For then of moments glad I too might be forgetting ! And so the gladsome past, Before our lives were parted, No cloud shall overcast To leave me more sad-hearted.. "My heart is full of tears, My soul is full of sorrow/' But bygone, happy years Shall win a calm to-morrow. 86 Queen of my Heart. FAREWELL, sweet love, once more we part, But still 'tis not with pain, I take thine image in my heart Where it as queen shall reign ! None other there shall rule but thee, None other share its throne, For thou art all the world to me, I love but thee alone ! So winning- in thy every way, So radiant dost thou shine, That 'twere a pleasure to obey The smallest wish of thine ! The world's a garden fair to see, And filled with flowers rare, And from them all I single thee As fairest of the fair ! Thy heart is like the budding rose, Its beauty half concealed, Till Love its petals doth unclose, Then is each charm revealed ! Such type of beauty cannot be In fairest faces seen As this which I have found in thee, My life, my love, my queen ! Love, the Rose, and the Maiden. As Love was roaming- forth one day, By some mischance he lost his way; He wandered on with fear opprest, But could not find a place of rest; As night drew nigh, alarmed he grew, So o'er a garden wall he flew ; He there beheld a lovely rose, And thought within he'd seek repose, So, ere the leaves could close, he crept Into its heart, and soundly slept. When morning came full bright and clear, A maiden to the rose drew near, And plucked it, then with gentle care She laid it on her bosom fair; Soon yielding to the morning sun Its leaves unfolded one by one, When Love stepped forth in glad surprise, With mischief lurking in his eyes, And fitting to his bow a dart, He aimed it at the maiden's heart ; She blushed, then fled in great dismay, While Love he laughed and flew away. Ring out, ye Bells. RING out, ye bells, a merry peal Upon this Christmas morn, Ring- out, and to the world reveal That Christ this day is born. Ring out, and tell each wandering" soul, Though weary be the strife, For those who seek to reach the goal He brings eternal life. Ring- out, and tell the rich, the poor, And those who sin and fall, That Christ is waiting- at the door With peace for one and all. 8 9 Farewell, my Heart. FAREWELL, my heart ! where dost thou Where findest thou thy rest? I'd have thee go and dwell within Some fond and loving" breast ! Farewell, my heart ! a last farewell, For thee I must resign ! But what is this responsive beat I feel in place of thine? Ah, yes ! it is another's heart, Whose pulses beat for me ! Go then, my heart, and beat for her, For she my love shall be ! Kisses. GIVE me a kiss, love, oh give me a kiss, Give it me freely, nor think it amiss ; If in the giving you find any pain, Then, if you wish, I'll return it again. Nay, do not chide, for to you I will prove Kisses are but the endearments of love : Mountains and valleys, the rivers and streams, Each one is kissed by the sun's golden beams ; Flowers of beauty, and flowers less fair, Kissed are they all by the sweet perfumed air ; In the wild storm, too, the boisterous wind, Blustering along, leaves its kisses behind ; When day is o'er and the stars gently peep, Deepening shadows kiss the earth then to sleep ; When the fair morn comes in glittering dress Nature awakes to receive its caress. Kissed is the heart with a kiss from above, Bless'd is that heart with that sweet kiss of love. All things are kissed, from the earth to the sky, Why should they then be more favoured than I ? Give me a kiss, love, once more I appeal What ! you refuse it ! then one I must steal. Greater the pleasure will be for delay Kisses are sweetest when stolen, they say. Impertinence. I MET a bonny maiden, A maiden young and fair, Bright gleams of golden sunshine Were lurking in her hair. The wanton breezes, passing. Were sporting with each tress, Then, growing bolder, giving Her lips a soft caress. Oh ! would I were the sunshine, Oh ! would I were the breeze, That I this bonny maiden Might kiss whene'er I please ! 9 2 The Bird and the Song. (AFTER LONGFELLOW.) I SENT a bird up into the air, It flew afar I knew not where, For who can have so keen a sight That it can follow a bird's swift flight ? I breathed a song a song of love Into the air, and it soared above, And settling on a cloudlet's crest It sailed away to the Golden West. The bird came back in the fall of spring And sang again as it used to sing, And the song that sailed to the far-off West I found again in a loving breast. 93 A Reflection LIFE is full of gx>lden moments, Ever flitting here and there ! In some hearts they fall but little, Others gfet a greater share ! If they could but last for ever ! But to be of all bereft Better once than coming 1 never, There is then remembrance left ! 94 Rosebud. TENDER rosebud, fair and lovely, Rich in hue and fragrance sweet. Though I search among- the flowers. I a fairer might not meet. On your folded form glad Phoebus Looks and smiles with cheering eye; Dewdrops glisten on each petal, While soft breezes pass you by. Tender rosebud, tell me truly, Is my love as sweet as you ? Though she has your grace and beauty, Has she got a heart as true? I will pluck you, be your answer If you no resistance make ; If my love shall love me truly, She will wear you for my sake. See I've plucked you, favour'd omen, And I now am doubly blest, For upon my love's fair bosom You have found a place of rest. Tender rosebud, fair and lovely, Though you sweet and fragrant be, Yet my love is sweeter, fairer, And her heart is true to me. 95 A Toast. FILL the cup with sparkling" wine From the rich and purple vine, Fill to overflowing : Drink to science, and the arts, Drink until it love imparts, And sets the soul allowing'. Do not stop the purple flow, When the nectar sinketh low A fresh supply then summon ; Fill the g"oblet once ag"ain, Raise it to the lips, and drain It dry to lovely woman. My Love. THE moon is fair to-night, my love, But fairer still art thou. And brighter are the sunny curls That cluster on thy brow ! The stars are bright to-night, my love, But brighter are thine eyes, The tender love-light beaming there Is soft as summer skies ! The songs are sweet to-night, my love, But sweeter is thy voice. Its melody so soft and low Doth make my heart rejoice ! All nature smiles to-night, my love, But radiant is thy face, No wood-nymph can with thee compare In beauty or in grace ! The moon and stars may change, my love, The skies o'erclouded be, And nature frown, but one true heart Will ever beat for thee! 97 The Fisherman's Parting. A FISHERMAN stood at his door to bid Farewell to the wife of his heart United for only a week and a day, And now for a time they must part ! "Good-bye, little wife, good-bye for a time," His voice was so cheerful and gay, But heavy and sad grew his heart as he thought Of the parting that might be for aye ! At her side he still lingered, unwilling to go, Yet he knew that the parting must be, So he kissed her pale face as he hastened away, And was soon lost to view on the sea. "Good-bye," in her heart, said the \vife, when he'd gone, And she sent up to heaven a prayer, And such is the power of a simple faith That it lightened her heart of its care ! And the fisherman, out on the rolling deep, Never thought of the lonesome night, For the heart can be glad when the faith is strong, And love is the beacon-light ! O, the welcome, and joy, when the morning dawned, For the parting had seemed so brief! And their hearts were full of that perfect bliss That spring^ from a touch of grief. 9 8 A Fragment. IN the hour of parting- the heart is sad, But, oh ! when the parting 1 is o'er, The heart is sadder, for then we feel That it may be for evermore ! But then, like the man who, in drowning, will catch At a straw, at a spar, or a rope, So we cling- to the thought of uniting again, And our straw is the words "Wait and hope." 99 After the Parting. SLOWLY the vessel recedes from the shore, Parted are those v\ho a moment before Grasped a loved hand ; Handkerchiefs wave, 'tis the final good-bye, Hearts are o'erflowing, and dimmed is each eye On deck and land ! Wider the distance is growing between, Far, far away the tall masts are now seen, Which fainter grow : Tearful we gaze as they fast fade away Gone ! 'Tis too late now to bid him to stay, Could we but know ! Here whilst I linger, sweet memory recalls Bright scenes gone by, and a dark shadow falls. Over my heart. Oh ! do not stay in that strange land to roam, Come back again to the loved ones at home No more to part! IOO Music and the Heart. THOU art indeed a power divine, Comfort giving" to hearts that pine ; The shattered heart receives a balm O music from thy wondrous charm ; The heavy heart grows light and free, The troubled one finds peace in thee, And hardened hearts will, at thy voice, Be softened, the distressed rejoice. The hearts which study thee for fame Do but immortalize thy name ! To some thou givest peace and rest, But sometimes, in the dormant breast, At sound of thee emotions rise, Which tell of love and severed ties. In every heart, in mortal breast, Let music find a place of rest, And let there music most divine Dwell ever in this heart of mine. IOI A Summer's Morn. THE shades of night have passed away, The dawn proclaims a new-born day, The birds with joy sing forth their praise,. And dewdrops, in the sun's bright rays, Are glistening on each leaf and flower, In garden, field, in hedge and bower, And with a fragrance rich and rare, Sweet perfumed flowers fill the air. At length all nature seems to wake, In praise of morn a part to take ; The hedges, trees, and meadows green, Are covered with a golden sheen. Soft, gentle breezes pass along, The air resounds with wondrous song, The heart with joy grows light and free Bright summer's morn, all hail to thee. IO2 The Origin of the Rose. (FROM GESSNERR'S IDYLS.) As Bacchus, with unsteady gait, Was roaming- forth one day, A lovely nymph he chanced to see With step so light and gay. The merry fellow gave pursuit, The maiden turned her head And smiled, then like a startled fawn From him she quickly fled. A thorn bush caught her flowing robe, Release she tried to seek, But Bacchus ran to her with joy, And softly touched her cheek. " Be not so coy, fair maid," said he, " I'm Bacchus, god of wine, Come, give to me one kiss, fair nymph, From those sweet lips of thine." The maiden with deep awe inspired, Could not deny him this, So lifting up her blushing face, She gave the wished-for kiss. Then Bacchus to reward the bush, For being a friend so true, Turned round and touched it with his staff", When lo ! there sprang to view Sweet flowers of the self-same hue As the cheeks of this fair maid ! Thus for a kiss, the lovely rose To Nature Bacchus paid. 103 The Fairest Flower. A PRETTY little garden, With beds so trim and neat, Arranged with choicest flowers Which send forth perfume sweet. A pretty little maiden, With bright and sunny hair, And cheeks just like the roses, And face so young and fair. Then search among the flowers, In garden or in bovver, And say, Is not the maiden Herself the fairest flower ? IO4 To Amy. OH ! bring to me the Muse's lyre. That I may strike a chord to thee; A chord that will my soul inspire With songs of sweetest minstrelsy. And I will deem the Muse unkind If she doth not to me impart How all the wishes of my mind May find an impress on thy heart ! So I will sing a song of Peace, That knoweth naught of sighs nor tears; A song to bid all sorrow cease. And lead to rest in after years. Then I will sing a song of Joy, A song to fill the heart with mirth ; And wish that Time may ne'er destroy The gladness of thy life on earth. And last of all, my song shall be A theme with Peace and Joy to blend, So I will sing of Love for 'thee That shall not die till life shall end. The Star Eternal. 'TWAS o'er a sea of wild delight My soul, in longing", winged its flight To seek, in realms afar, An ever ceaseless, shining light, In fairest day, in darkest night, To be my reigning star. But as my soul, with airy grace, Flew on toward the realms of space It saw no gleaming spark, For night-clouds, in their cold embrace, Had caught the stars and left no trace, And all the world grew dark. Again my soul winded like a dove, But sought not in the realms above A light from midnight skies, For chancing o'er the world to rove It came across the star of love That trembled in thine eyes. And as my soul met thus with thine, And found a rest, what need for mine To seek in realms afar ? Of all the orbs that nightly shine Not one hath light half so divine As Love's eternal star. io6 Farewell. OH, chide me not for tears unshed, Nor doubt me if my words are few. It is not that my heart is dead When parting- from a friend so true. But words could not my grief impart, And flowing- tears no pleasure win, And so they well around my heart To keep my love for you within. Though parted by Fate's sad decree, Our hearts still hold no vain regret, And as you sometimes think of me, Be sure I ne'er shall you forget. Should greater distance part us, then Our hearts should feel love's deeper glow, Just as the sun is warmest when 'Tis farthest from the earth below. Adieu ! the parting hour is nigh ! And even bravest heart may swell When lips refuse to say good-bye, And murmur but a iond farewell. Holly. BRIGHT and green the holly gleameth, Crimson-lit the berries glow, Christmas, full of pleasure, beameth, Though it cometh clothed in snow. Bright and green is life, though fleeting, Happiness the crimson light, Such to all is now my greeting, Till shall come their winter's night. COMIC POEMS. DEDICATED TO MY BROTHER FRED. To my Brother Fred. SOME people never seek for joys, And know no time of gladness, But, like a cake that's badly cook'd. They linger on in sadness ! Now, should your heart be light or sad r Or bright with animation, Be ready, like one out of work. To meet the situation. And I would have you kind, that you May good for evil render A loving heart, like juicy steak, Is always sweet and tender. If vexed with doubts of right and wrong. Start not a contradiction, But as the oyster to the knife, Be open to conviction. With others who with ready wit Are quick enough to handle, May you, just like a certain stick, Be fit to hold the candle. If provocation come to you At present or hereafter, Just read these comic poems, and Provoke yourself to laughter. INDEX PAGE A Cure for the Dumps . . . . . . 195 An Evening Concert . . . . . . . . 171 A Paper Age . . . . . . . . 163 A Tale of a Cat . . . . . . 161 A Tale of a Valentine . . . . . . 149 A Tale of Dreamland . . . . . . . . 187 Cagliostro Leger-Demain . . . . 189 Family Jars . . . . . . 129 How Deal became Wood . . . . . . 176 Jumbo . . . . . . . . 145 Ough ! . . . . . . . . 166 Sea-side Hints . . . . . . . . 134 Summer . . . . . . . . . . 147 The Age . . . . . . . . . . 168 The Christening . . . . . . . . 137 The Cobbler and the Parson .. .. .. 115 The Crime of a Joke . . . . . . . . 132 The "Eccentric" Man .. .. .. 140 The Farmer's Appeal .. .. .. .. 178 The Inconsistency of Man . . . . . . 193 The Report of a Gun . . . . . . . . 152 Tim Tapster . . . . . . . . 122 William and Mary Ann . . . . . . 181 Winter . . . . . . . . 174 Yorkshire Gossip . . . . . . . . 157 The Cobbler and the Parson. A LEGENDARY BALLAD. 'TWAS in a country village that A cobbler plied his trade, A master fit for better work, Misfit he never made. He worked alike for old and young, For cottage, hall, and hut, But though each praised his handiwork,. They trod it underfoot ! New stock he made and old repaired, And deemed it ne'er a sin If he repaired himself at night Down to the village inn. This cobbler in his youthful days A strippling quite had been, But drinking beer had made him fat, Yet often made him lean. The inn the village boasted of, 'Twas said without omission, Next to the church a first place held, In fact a pre-position. 'Tis strange what curious names and signs- To inns are sometimes given, But so it is and therefore this Was called the "Gates of Heaven!" The origin of such a name, Though oft had been the search, None knew unless it was that it Stood next door to the church; n6 Or may be there in days past, to Discuss the sermon's merits, The people met and found it was A place for better spirits. 'Twas there the cobbler spent his nights, Snug" in the snug behint, And, in a measure speaking, took His beer from pint to pint. Though kindred spirits hailed him there The soul of every one, Night always found him aleing, though At morning ailed he none ! The parson of the village heard About this merry wight, And thought there was but one thing left, And that to lead him right. A pair of shoes, to be repaired, He then to him did send He paved his way with these to try The cobbler's ways to mend ! He called, and thought the erring one He quickly would enrol, That while the cobbler soled his heel He'd heal the cobbler's soul ! Although the parson spoke at length And raised his voice on high, The cobbler cut him short and gave At length this curt reply: ^" 'Tis good of you to wax so hot, And all for my own end, But though I break out every night, Yet every day I mend ! "To be a better man I thirst, To quench that thirst I try, But sermons never do me good, And talking makes me dry." The parson thought 'twas all in vain- The cobbler's heart to stir, and He went away convinced he'd been Upon a bootless errand ! This cobbler had a golden rule, A good one too no doubt, When people's shoes were taken in He always wore them out ! That is, he wore them for a day, Or wore them for a night, And though too large they sometimes proved,. The fit was often " tight ! " Now, as this rule he always kept, The chance he did not lose Of stepping for a little time Into the parson's shoes. But they, being smaller than his feet Alas for sin and pride Nipp'd like a vice, that pincer-toed He walked until he died ! He stayed his work and closed his shop, The clock was striking seven As jauntily he turned his steps Towards the " Gates of Heaven." To hesitate was to be lost, So straight he entered in, And thus the parson's shoes at last Walked in the path of sin ! u8 Next day the parson's shoes were done, Said he, " They do not fit ! " 'Twas then the cobbler felt that he Had put his foot in it ! And soon the parson's feet began To move with gentle pace, Then quicker grew as if inclined To walk or run a race ! It seemed as if some pow'r unseen Had caused his feet to peg it, And though he clasped them with his hands They seemed inclined to leg it ! He pressed them firmly on the floor, But could not keep them still The way in which they moved about Was much against his will ! Then up he got and walked about, And right across the floor, And down the stairs they led him on, And through the open door. And down the street, and past the church, Straight to the village inn, And thus the parson's shoes again Walked in the path of sin ! A kind man he had always been, Beloved by all mankind, Yet down hill he was made to go, Though not at all inclined ! Resistance was in vain, alas ! And as he entered in It sounded " rum " to other ears To hear him call for gin ! u 9 And when at last the night arrived, A little after seven, The cobbler and the parson met Within the " Gates of Heaven." The cobbler said, " I'm sorry, sir, To see you thus begin, Instead of driving spirits out, To take the spirits in." The parson laughed and called for more, And brighter grew his eyes, For while he poured the spirits down, His own began to rise ! And thus they drank and spent the night 'Mid laughter, mirth, and shout, And in the inn the parson stayed Until they turned them out ! And when outside he found himself He grasped the cobbler's hand, And why his legs refused support He could not understand ! With morning came repentance, and He prayed with might and main, But when his shoes he did put on They took him off again ! The cobbler and the parson soon Became each other's friend, And every day and every night Together they did spend. And thus the parson soon lost caste, The cobbler lost his trade, And though to pray he had no mind. Upon his mind it preyed. I2O And so he went and hanged himself Upon an ancient birch The parson was suspended, too, By order of the church ! They went and cut the cobbler down, The parson was cut up, And to the inn he went to drown His sorrow in the cup. He drank all day, he drank all night, Till he could drink no more, And in the morning he was found Dead drunk upon the floor ! And soon his spirit passed away Unto some other sphere The cobbler, stubborn to the last, Had gone to his last bier! A jury met and gave it in These terms, or something such : " The cobbler elevated got And took a drop too much ! " Our verdict on the parson is " Exclaimed they in a breath " As he was found dead drunk we find He drunk himself to death ! " They laid them in the self-same grave, And it was plain to see There was no weeping there except A weeping willow tree ! But in their graves they could not rest, The rumour widely spread That every night at twelve o'clock They left their narrow bed ! 121 'Twas said by some the cobbler wore Around his neck a noose, And that the parson on his feet Did wear a pair of shoes ! That every night they each appeared Enveloped in a pall, Appalling- all the villagers, Alike both great and small. That once a year the cobbler went And swung- upon the birch, And that the parson visited The villag-e inn and church. But in the forward march of time Improvements there were made They pulled the " Gates of Heaven " down And thus the ghosts were laid. And then, 'twas said, when they no more Appeared in midnight revel, That as the " Gates of Heaven " were closed They'd both gone to the ! 122 Tim Tapster: A TALE OF AN IXX SPECTRE. TIM TAPSTER was a waiter at The Quarter Moon and Star; No legal man was he although He studied for the bar. He waited there from morn till night. And that for little pelf, He waited on each customer, And waited on himself. He had no schooling in his youth, So was not fit for trade, And so he to an inn was sent, To.be a servant made. He thought, the while ambition did His dormant nature rouse, The way to be a public man Was through a public house. But people said that Tim was soft, That brains he was without, But if he served them in the inn, He sometimes served them out ! For instance, as was proved one night When he was made the butt, Although they cracked their jokes, he taught Them how to crack a nut ! Such spirit they had never seen In Tim, and thought it queer That he could draw their claret just As well as draw their beer ! I2 3 'Twas somewhere just about this time That deep in love fell Tim, Quite over head and ears, until His head began to swim. And so he to his master went. One day when going- to town, To settle up his wages, as He wished to settle down. A crown per week, and four weeks due, Was what his master found, And as a sovereign remedy He gave him just a pound. Elated with his luck, Tim to The bar did quick resort, And was not long before he took A drop of something short. The spirit rose into his head, And love surged through his heart, But yet no surgery he sought To heal the wounded part. But he, where lived his Mary Ann, His heart-strings all astir, Dressed in his Sunday suit, went to Address his suit to her. But when he in her presence stood He found he could not talk, And when he "popped " 'twas much more like The popping of a cork ! I here may state how first they met, And how their love began, 'Twas at the Spotted Cow that Tim First spotted Mary Ann. 124 She was a captivating" g"irl, And vow'd to capture Tim, So while he stood with hat in hand She set her cap at him. And then she made a feint to faint, And fell into his arms ; She made a faint impression and Tim fell before her charms ! And thus it was that he proposed, And sought to win the prize, And at her side he sighed his love, A love of wondrous sighs ! But she had views romantic, and Gave him to understand That he must do some daring feat Before he sought her hand. At this Tim thought she doubted him, And thus to her did say : " I'd willingly lay down my life All doublings to allay." There was an inn, once noted for Its spirits and its nectar, But now a ghost walked every night, A kind of night inn spectre ! Said Mary Ann to Tim, who o!t Did of his courage boast, " Before I listen to your lays Go you and lay the ghost." " If that is all you ask," said Tim, His heart elate with hope, " I'll go and cope with spectres, though I am no spectroscope." 125 What she requested soon he thought, Which seemed his fears to quell, She said it tor his welfare, so He said to her farewell. As home he went he thought of this Request of Mary Ann's, And being- used to drawing, why He soon drew out his plans. He thought, whatever it may be That joins in midnight revel, The way in which to settle ghosts Is with a spirit level ! So, full of spirits, off he went Next night to do his task, And with him took another kind Of spirit in a flask Into the inn he entered, and He trimmed and lit his lamp, Then took a drop of whisky, for He found it rather damp. He waited, and he waited, and He took another drink, Until at last he tired grew And felt his spirits sink ! "Coming events cast shades before," But Tim was not afraid, 'Twas quite well-known that he was not Particular to a shade ! No medium he, so did not care A rap for ghostly raps, While from his boyhood he had been Quite used to spirit taps ! 126 So when he heard a knock, and saw A shadow at the door, He simply fell asleep, and then He fell upon the floor. Crash, bang", and crash, and bang again, Each one in quick rotation, As if a host of demons there Did hold a demonstration ! Then silence reigned till morning- broke. And woke Tim from his sleep, And slowly, like a dawning day, His eyes began to peep. And when his scattered thoughts returned,. It then recurred to Tim, Instead of settling spirits 'twas The spirit settled him ! Quite true enough was this, although The thought he quickly spurned, For when he tried to rise he found The tables on him turned ! Next night the same occurred, except The night was rather wild, And bitter were the thoughts of him Who usually was mild! He shivered, as the chilly air Across the room did waft, And as the wind got higher, did He take a deeper draught. But still he nothing saw except The ghostly shadows dance. And Tim began to think he'd not The shadow of a chance ! 127 But next night that is night the third Tim felt so much at stake That he, like at some Irish deaths, Resolved to hold awake. And \vhen the clock had reached the hour When ghosts and spectres roved, Tim felt at last he, like a Friend, Was by the spirit moved. He heard a voice so sepulchral, Which caused his flesh to creep ; It came to him in accents low, It was so very deep. It said, " Some say I am a ghost, But some such notions scout, Which seems to me I merely am The shadow of a doubt ! " An unseen hand then led him on, To fate he was resigned; His thoughts roamed to his love, so he Went with an absent mind ! Straight to a bedside he was led, Yet not one whit afraid, But he had wit enough to see On it the ghost was laid ! Once more he thought of Mary Ann, And thought her love he'd earned; His mind, though, was not very good, And nevermore returned ! So when the ghost sat up in bed, And pointed to the post, Tim, absent-minded, hanged himself, And thus gave up the ghost ! 128 "When Mary Ann was told the news She wrung her hands and cried : " Alas ! I am not fit to live ! " So in a fit she died. 129 Family Jars. A PATHETIC BALLAD. A FAMILY Jarr by name 'tis said In Jarrow used to dwell. A touching little incident Concerning' them I'll tell : Now, be it known, each Christmas day, Relations far and near Met there to pay their compliments, And taste the Christmas cheer; There were uncles, aunts, and cousins, too, Sons, daughters, pas, and mas In fact they were, without a doubt, A set of family Jarrs ! Now Mrs. Jarr, some weeks before The festive time, had made Some currant jam, and jelly, and Some orange marmalade. And here my history must record An only son she had ! The only sunshine of her heart, For buried was his dad. This Master Jarr a zvcakness had A strong one I'm afraid A weakness that had daily grown For jam and marmalade. He had, too, what some people call A squint he fairly won it, For when he saw the jam one day He cast his eye upon it; 130 He thought, oh! what a treat 'twould be To have two finger-dips, And though he was a peaceful boy Began to smack his lips ! He could not reach it from the floor, But then why should he care, No need to stand on ceremony, He stood upon a chair. In reaching for a jar, alas He over-reached himself, And down he came with jars and all, And in his hand the shelf. His mother heard the noise below. She started up in fear She somehow did not like the sound, It jarr'd upon her ear ; With single bound she clear'd the steps Like tigress from her cage She flew into the room, and then She flew into a rage ! She seized the rod, and with it she Her son began to beat, For sour ' d was her temper, though She found him very sweet . And when she saw the ruins there The jam, the bits of pot His fate was seal' d, down came the whacks,. For she was waxing hot. "Oh! gone alas is my best jar!" She cried in clam'rous jar-gon, And she for him no mercy had Though much he sued for pardon. Once more she fixed her gaze upon Her jars in pieces laid, But peace is better far than war, So peace at last she made ; And strange to say although she did From jam her son debar, Yet when she took him from the rooiru She left the door ajar. MORAL. Dear readers all, remember this, It often friendship mars, If meddling fingers seek to dip In secret family jars. 132 The Crime of a Joke. OF one, whose name may not be told, There is a tale to tell, As how he cracked a joke one day, And what therefrom befell. Whatever other people said He always turned to fun ; In quip and joke he much rejoiced, And revelled in a pun. And if he met with friends, he'd turn And twist each word they spoke, Until it came to pass that none Would listen to his joke. It happened, though, he met one day A simple-minded man, And then to tell a funny tale He very soon began. The jokes came fast, still on he went, Nor cared to rest awhile, And soon he was rewarded by Producing- just a smile. The smile extended to a grin, The grin into a roar, Another joke did tickle so The man laughed more and more. The jokist button-holed his man, And would not be repulsed, And soon with satisfaction saw His victim was convulsed. '33 Joke followed joke, and every one Of choicest wit did smack; The listener laughed at each until His jaws began to crack. Then on the ground he fell and rolled,. And writhed as in a fit; Another joke dropped in his ear, And caused his sides to split. Then still he lay, for laughter had Deprived him of his breath; And then it was the jokist saw Of him he'd been the death. With face so grave he left the spot, And quick began to run, And from that day he ne'er was known* To make a joke nor pun. Twelve men sat on the body of The simple-minded man His breath had gone and left it flat, Like cake made in a pan. They laid their heads together, and In a few moments after They, all agreed, did bring it in, A true case of Mans laughter. 134 Sea=side Hints. YE sea-side trippers list, oh, list To what I have to say, 'Twill keep you to enjoyment, though It is but for a day. The sea-side is a wondrous place, Wherever it may be, For should you meet a blind friend you Can take him out to sea ! Trip lightly to the station then, Trip next into the train, And in a trippers' train of mind Trip off to see the main. Of seagulls, of a varied kind, A sea-side place is full ; Beware ! or you yourself, also, May there become a gull ! .Be sure and dress up in your best, Then there will really be A heavy swell upon the land, As well as on the sea. Join in the fashionable throng, Or sit, and smoke, and read The sea-side is the very place For you to have a weed. A suit of serge is best to wear, And much in vogue 'twill be, Por when you go you'll always find That surge is seen at sea. 135 Tell all your friends how well you fish, Although they may rebuke, For if you only catch a crab, It still may be a fluke ! But if you fish at all, and do Not even catch a crab, A flounder in the boat will serve To say you caught a dab ! And should you meet a man who talked Of w r hat he most adored, You, sinking- down, could safely say You'd fallen over-bored ! If of your sailing you would boast, And of your fishing crack, While fishing, {Dress your sweetheart's lips, And take a fishing smack. > If short of coin and eatables, Pine not at your ill-luck, Drop in the sea at dinner-time, And take a little duck. Some people, ere they do return Unto their native town, Though naturally looking green, Wish often to be brown. The simple way, my friends, by which You may accomplish it, Is first of all go for a sail To cobble up a bit ; Then quarrel with the boatman, an Obliging man is he, He'll give you such a hiding, and You thus sret fanned at sea ! i 3 6 Of course you give the man in charge,. But, though he is at fault, The judge does, in committing him, Himself commit a salt ! The next thing then for you is to Return to home and friends, And thus your visit like my rhyme Appropriately ends. 137 The Christening. OH, he was such a jolly thing-, And just like other mortals, 'Twas at a very early ag-e He passed through nature's portals. When first he came into the world He nothing did but crying", And then his anxious parents thought He every day was dying. But he was such a sly young thing, And passed through youthful ailments, From measles, croup and whooping-cough, To bruises and impalements. He soon became a knowing one, Knew all about the neighbours, He learnt their little secrets and Gained knowledge from their labours. He grew into a merry thing, Began to cut his capers, And funny things he would recite From out the comic papers. But what I have to tell is how That he was strangely christened, The tale of which has caused such fun When anyone has listened. His parents thought that he should bear A name aristocratic, For they were highly born, in fact Descended from an attic ! 1 3 8 And when at last the day arrived They both were quite delighted, And so they made a grand to do, And all their friends invited. They sought the parson, so arranged, Their hearts with joy elated, And soon they in his presence stood But here it must be stated That neither could remember what The name was they had chosen, And there they stood in blank dismay As if they had been frozen ! The sad young thing, who knew it well, Was then too young to tell it, But he began to cry, which took The three some time to quell it. All this but helped the parents to Grow more confused than ever, And thus it seemed the precious name Come back to them would never. The parson then impatient grew, And at them both he raved, And then he read the Scripture names From Adam to King David. But no, it was no use at all, The name did not belong them, The parson then advised them both To chose one from among them. They told him they would rather have The name aristocratic, Then as the parson talked to them TT- I His tones were most emphatic. 139 And then he grew so mighty vexed, His wrath he could not stifle ; ' 'Twould make a parson swear," he said, And so he swore a trifle ! The dame was shocked, the parson saw That he had sadly pained her, And so of Scripture names he read, To soothe her, the remainder. 'Twas at this stage they each sank down, For all were greatly tired, The dame soon started up again Like one who is inspired. " Yes ! yes ! I have it now," said she, "Yes, yes," 'twas naught but yesses, And then the husband tried as if It was a game at guesses. "Yes, yes," said she, the parson said " Yes ! yes ! pray stop it madam," And then he to the husband turned, Who said, " I don't care Adam " 140 The "Eccentric" Man. TIMOTHEOUS TOMKYXS was a man of most uncommon kind, And had such eccentricities in one we seldom find ! In quality of brains he was exceptionally strong-, And thought himself quite charming in the matter of a song-. He very often boasted that he came of noble line, And his carriage was most graceful and his speech was very fine. When quite a little child, in fact a dumpy baby boy, He was his fathers torment, yet his mother's only joy ! Unlike all other children, he for playthings did not care, But took a strange delight in pulling- out his father's hair! He always kept awake at nights and slept throughout his days, A fact which very plainly showed he had eccentric ways. When twelve months old, or so, he first began to learn to walk, And somewhere just about that time did he begin to talk. The art seemed so delightful that, in his eccentric way, He practised each acquirement every night and every day, And this, no doubt, accounted for the fact, so I opine, That his carriage was most graceful and his speech was verv fine ! He did not, up to twenty-one, develop very much, Unless it was to imitate an old man with a crutch, And loudly talk, and smoke a pipe, and dress himself for show, And mix his conversation with "By Jove!" and "Yes, you know." But of his eccentricities, I merely shall relate The few that in his after life did most predominate. On entering another's house, he never used the mat, And had a strict objection as to taking off his hat ! If asked to have refreshments he invariably took wine, And then he with his elbow on the table would recline. It was his eccentricity to sit as in repose, And show his feet encased in boots with patent leather toes. Now, as I have before remarked, his speech was very fine, And in the matter of a song he thought himself divine ; At evening entertainments he would volunteer to sing, And then a roll of music from his pocket he would bring. If anybody praised his song, although they thought it poor, He, being so eccentric, sung about a dozen more ! Now when he walked along the street he had a springy tread, And placed his hat a little on the right side of his head ; He wore his trousers very tight, a coat that would not meet, And if the day was very fine had gaiters on his feet ! He seemed to grow eccentric in the clothes that he did wear, And looked on everybody with a supercilious air. 1 4 2 In entering- on an argument, although he might be wrong", He'd not give in, his voice instead would groxvboth loud and strong! If anyone essayed to introduce a single word, His voice would rise to such a pitch till they could not be heard, But those who would excuse him said it was his funny way Of letting everybody know what he had got to say ! As his carriage was most graceful and his speech was very fine, It happened that he often was invited out to dine, Yet he always was eccentric when he at a table sat, For if the hostess asked him would he take of this or that, He simply answered "Yes, I will," and never " If you please," And he always used his fingers when he took a bit of cheese. He had a strong objection as to eating with a fork, And seemed to like to fill his mouth and then begin to talk, On all the things around him he would make a rapid raid, And taste of everything that was upon the table laid. At one single invitation, to comparatively speak, He ate as much as would have served another man a week ! He had one peculiarity much stronger than the rest, Which was, on certain mornings, to get dressed up in his best, 143 And with a tooth-pick in his mouth to promenade along. And think himself the greatest of the fashionable throng; But then he was descended from a very noble line, And his carriage was most graceful and his speech was very fine. Now in the lives of most of men there is a certain time When earth to them is paradise, and life is all sublime; It is the time when they receive a voluntary start That sets in rapid motion all the pulses of the heart, And Tim was no exception, for he fell in love one day, But as usual it happened in a most eccentric way. He saw the loved one in the street, and followed in her track, His eyes intently fixed upon the plait hung down her back; And when he saw the residence that held his earthly star, He straightway went and rang the bell and asked for her papa, He said, " I love your daughter, and she cannot but love me, For I'm direct descended from a noble line, you see ! " The maiden's father loved a joke, and so he ushered Tim Into a room where was the maid, who sweetly smiled on him, And in an ecstacy of bliss he dropped upon his knees, And in the speech that followed dropped his h's and his p-'s! g's! He little knew the maiden had but just returned from school, But had a keen perception of " uneducated fool ! ' 144 He fled the house, but with the night he sought it once again, And cast a little pebble at the maiden's window pane ; He thought 'twould be romantic, could he but persuade her out, Instead of coming down the stairs to fetch her down the spout ! 'Twas all in vain, and evident the maiden did not care, And wasted were the kisses that he wafted on the air. That true love never smoothly runs it often has been said, And Timotheus too found it so and wished that he were dead ! Dispelled were all his visions of a cot in sylvan grove, And in the end of all this unreciprocated love Did set his brain on fire, of that there was no single doubt, And in his eccentricity he straightway blew it out ! 145 Jumbo. THE Yankees rule our weather, so A many people say, And now they've ruled our feelings In a feeling- sort of way! The Jumbo sentiment, I find, Was by the Yankees sent, For Barnum from the first gave out To have him sent he meant. Yet Jumbo added to it all By going upon his knees, Which rested well with every one, Yet made them ill at ease ! 'Twas tried to get poor Jumbo off, But all of no avail, For finding that he had been " sold " He stopped at once the sail ! The Fellows all maintained that he His lodgings could not quit, And though at length they wrote their views, In short 'twas only Writ ! They saw the people's pleadings did Not Jumbo's cause enhance, So threw him into Chancery To give him just a chance. But, Jumbo, you will have to go, Resistance is in vain, E'en though we have to use main force To force you on the main ! 146 But if you're ill upon the sea The crew will share, we find, For have they not quite often to Be cruel to be kind? Oh ! Jumbo, see our flowing tears, Which grief from each eye calls ! And though they are not cataracts, They yet are waterfalls ! But let us bid our last farewells, And end this grief and woe, And if you would give peace to all, Pack up your trunk and go. Summer. POETS have sung that summer days Are fraught with joy and beauty, Their disadvantages to give Is now my present duty. MORNING. The morning breaks the bonds of sleep,. Though not on friendly terms, The sun breaks slowly through the mist, The birds breakfast on worms. Gay larks are high up in the air, And butter-flies about! And wantonly the breezes play 'Mid laughter, song, and shout. Bull-rushes out in every lane, And cow'-slips may be found, While lambkins gambol in the fields, Where heavy stakes abound ! Bees hum, and oft across your face The branches sweeping brush, And for each liver complaints may be Found both in corn and thrush. Though streams with laughter ripple on,. Though river calmly flows, The brook seems discontented, for It murmurs as it goes ! And often close about your ears The asses loudly bray, And should you but expostulate The horses give you neigh \ NIGHT. Night is not safe, reflections are Cast by the brooks and streams, The moon will stare you in the face, And on you throw its beams. Dark shadows steal around you, e'en The sun is sinking low! At sight of which the western sky With blushes is aglow. The moon, with sly impertinence, Peeps o'er the mountain's crest, The birds do twitter o'er your head, And broods are in the nest. The owls they screech from stumps of trees, Their eyes like balls of light, ats fly about, the cricket chirps Oh, peaceful Summer's night. 149 A Tale of a Valentine. OH, tender was the heart of one, Adolphus Phipps by name, And Love applied his torch and set That tender heart aflame. A flaxen curl, two cherry lips, And eyes of azure blue, A mouth that rivalled Cupid's bow, And cheeks of rosy hue. Such was the face that came one day Before Adolphus' gaze ; Such was the face that caused his heart To leap into a blaze ! Oh, how he longed to tell his love, And how his heart did pant, But she was always guarded by An ancient maiden aunt ! He worship'd long in secret till His heart began to pine But how to tell his love ? Ah, yes, He'd send a valentine ! He purchased one of silver lace, With just a single heart, Which was, he thought, appropriately Pierced with a cupid's dart. He with it wrote a note in which He spoke of future bliss, And at the end of every line He dotted down a kiss ! It said, "To-morrow I will seek An answer from your lips, And so till then I sign myself Your loving Dolphy Phipps." The valentine was duly sent, And duly was received, But in a manner different To what he had conceived ! For, though he'd been at pains so great To learn the maiden's name, It never once occurred to him Her aunt did bear the same. So, being addressed to Miss, instead Of Miss Amanda, why "The elder maid did claim it as She heaved a little sigh. Adolphus, with a beating heart, Did seek to know his doom, And calling at Amanda's house Was shown into a room. And soon he heard a rustle as Of someone at the door, Which caused his palpitating heart To palpitate the more. Then deep in thought he sank and dreamt Of fair Amanda's charms, Till 'round his neck there softly stole A pair of loving arms ! He clasped the owner to his breast, And then enraptured cast A loving glance upon her face, But started back aghast ! The maid of sixty summers was The one Adolphus saw, Who, if he did not keep his word, Did threaten with the law. Said she, " From you this valentine And letter I've received, And as you've won my heart and hand I will not be deceived ! " Adolphus fled the spot, but he No peace nor rest could find, The great mistake that he had made Preyed so upon his mind. Said he, " Ere such a knot I'll tie, And thus Amanda loose, I'll tie another knot and put My neck into a noose ! " Alas ! what he had vowed to do To him that night befell ! And he did wring his neck because He could not rinsr the belle ! 152 The Report of a Gun. A. GUNN he was a warrior bold, A rifleman w-as he, And he did volunteer one day To fight across the sea. In warfare he was brave and true, And always to the fore ; Alike in peace his comrades said He was true to the corps. He fought in many battles, and He helped to take a fort, Of each of which, as fitting was, He made a good report. But in the end they silenced him, 'Twas what he much disliked, And by a foeman's bayonet A. Gunn at last was spiked ! He left a wife to mourn his loss, He left an only son, And everybody said he was The true son of A. Gunn. The husband dead, the son became The mother's only joy, And buoyant rose her sinking heart Whene'er she saw her boy. But human nature's apt to change, As sun-gleam's fitful glance, And very oft will backward go As years in life advance. 153 'Twas so with A. Gunn, junior, His mother's heart grew sad, His father was an upright man, But he got downright bad. Though tall, and straight, and comely, yet 'Twas said with one assent, On every kind of wickedness And mischief he was bent ! So he was blamed for what he did, And very often more, If someone else a garden robbed They laid it at his door! So things went on from bad to worse, And when he was inspired With any kind of mischief, then With joy A. Gunn was fired. Nor did he mend in older years, For far into his teens, Gunpowder plots he loved to read In penny magazines. His mother begg'ed of him to list, And quit his native spot, Quite earnestly she talked to him, But, oh ! he listed not ! A roving life preferred he, and A sailor he would be, He wondered what the life was like, So ran away to sea. For years he was unheard of, and 'Twas thought that he was dead, And everyone looked grave to find He was alive instead. '54 His relatives all shunn'd him when He came to them once more, And said, behind his back, he was No better than before ! That over head and ears in love 'Twas fitting" he should drop, And, even as his name implied, That he should also " pop." He woo'd a maid, and begged of her To join the wedded state Commander of a vessel, he Did want her for his mate. And all went smooth till rumour's tongue Did say that she was false, And leading him a pretty dance, More galop than a waltz. And so he vow'd within himself To know the very worst, But thought, on second thought, that he Had better see her first. But when he by appointment went To clear the hanging doubt, They told him that she was not in, And so he found her out ! He sought his ship, he sought his men, But could not find relief, And then he had the anchor weighed, While he was weighed with grief. He paced the deck, and sternly bade His men to put to sea, But he was not himself, but quite Another man was he ! '55 He sought rest in the cabin, and Sought comfort in the cup, But still it did not cool him down, For oit he "fired up." The trouble that had come to him Deprived him of his sleep ; His spirits got so very low He took to drinking- deep i He got from bad to worse, until So hot his temper grew, That not a single day passed by But he blew up his crew ! He'd left his heart with her from whom He knew he'd had to part. And thus he had no life in him Because he had no heart ! He made his will, arranged his things, And placed them on a shelf, A double part he acted, for He was beside himself. And then he took a firebrand, Instead of going to bed, And went out of his cabin and Also out of his head ! He could not calculate the time From drinking too much " Scotch," Besides he found the man on deck Was sleeping on his watch ! And then he kicked the sleeping man, He kicked him on the shins, And needless 'tis to say the kick Had knocked him off his pins ! 1 5 6 The man aroused, with fear he saw The captain standing" nigh, A burning light was in his hand And fire in his eye. The man then tried to raise himself, But sank him down instead, He found the kick upon his shins Had knocked him on the head ! The captain neared the mag-azine, With tread so light and soft, Which caused the terror-stricken man To send his hands aloft. He saw the captain mischief meant, And vainly tried to rise; He could not follow with his legs, So followed with his eyes. The man saw something' in the wind, The same was blowing 1 south, He could not cry for help because His heart was in his mouth ! Spellbound he lay, nor could he move, Yet strove with all his might, Meanwhile the captain plied his torch, And stood in his own light ! A fiendish smile was on his face, It seemed to him but sport, But still he was in duty bound To give a good report. He'd often blown up others, but Led by some demon elf, He changed his course, and ended life By blowing up himself ! 157 Yorkshire Gossip. OH, Mr. Blossip was a man Of truest Yorkshire stamp, So jolly he, that nothing- could His jovial spirits damp ! He laughed and joked with everyone, Was never known to weep ; In fact he laughed when wide awake, And when he was asleep ! So true a Yorkshireman was he, That it was often said, He beef and Yorkshire pudding loved 'Cause he was Yorkshire bred. But Fate ordained that he one day Should leave his native town; 'Twas then his buoyant spirits did Begin to simmer down ! And soon he grew so very thin, And grew so very pale, Until his clothes quite loosely hung, Like scare-crow on a rail. And in the end of all he found That he had grown so thin, His very bones at last began To show beneath his skin ! And so he went across the sea, And left his native land, But why he grew r so very sad He could not understand. 153 He called on the Americans, And sought a Yankee cute, But very soon returned again As grave as any mute. He visited the Germans next, And took their lager beer, But though he'd never wept before He left them with a tear ! And then to sunny France he hied And lived on froggy soup, But even this did also fail His spirits to recoup ! To Scotland next he took a trip, To try a pinch of snuff, This also failed to rouse him for He could not take enough ! He next went on to Paddy's land, Arriving there, bedad, He got a knock upon the head Which left him quite as sad ! He took a voyage round the world, And called from place to place. But still a smile was never seen On his dejected face ! So he returned to London town, And studied cockney lore, But paler, thinner, did he grow, And graver than before ! Until one day he met a friend Fresh from his native place, Which caused the very faintest smile To flit across his face. 159 This friend began to tell him all About his native spot, Which took him really quite a week, Of news he'd such a lot. And long before this time expired, In Blossip's glowing- face The shadow of his former self His friend began to trace. He told him of a council that Had notions very big, Who thought it quite a joke to say, They did not care a " fig." He told him of a certain mayor Who was a "jolly sort," Which made poor Blossip think that he Did once the title sport. He told him of a Doctor who Had reached a high degree, Who gave the people twice a week An organ concert free ! He told him of a fountain that Had wrung a people's tears (All this was news to Blossip for He'd been away for years.) Then pretty little scandals next In whispers he did speak, Which brought a smile to Blossip's face, And colour to his cheek. And then a something he did drop Right into Blossip's ear, Which made him break into a laugh It was so very queer. i6o He told him many other things Of which I dare not tell, And Mr. Blossip's laugh broke out Into a perfect yell. And when his friend had told his tales, "Hooray! hooray!" cried Blossip, "The only thing I wanted was A bit of Yorkshire Gossip ! " A Tale of a Cat. MIAOU ! miaou ! such a noise and a stir Was heard in the house one morn ! Miaou ! miaou ! and the reason was this, Five little blind kittens were born. Yes, five little kittens, some grey and some black, And the mother was awfully proud, For she strutted about with her tail erect, And cried out her joy aloud. But her joy very soon turned to sorrow indeed, And her cry turned at last to a wail, For a man with a murderous look on his face Appeared with a shovel and pail. Of the five little kittens he gather d up four, And tumbled them into the water; Such a kicking-, and splashing-, and dashing- was there- Indeed 'twas a terrible slaughter! And the one that was left knew nothing- at all Of the dreadful cat-astrophe there,- But if it had known what for it was in store The same 'twould have been glad to share. One morning-, when puss was about nine days old, It woke up with wide-opened eyes, And the wonderful things that it saw every day Filled its young head, indeed, with surprise ! To tell of its troubles and dangers through life Space will not allow me to mention, But one terrible thing that poor pussy befell I'll tell if you'll just pay attention. 1 62 You must know that this kitten grew up to a cat. And it had such a very long" tail. And this grew, and it grew, and became such a length. It at last on the floor had to trail ! How clever and great have appeared some reciters When telling some narrative bold. Yet puss, in a sense, was as great and as clever Like them, she a tail could unfold ! And day after day the tail went on growing, Of that there was really no doubt ; So heavy and long did it get that poor pussy Determined to re-tail it out ! But still 'twas no use, for it grew, and it grew, And pussy was sadly perplext What to do with her tail, so decided at last Continued 't should be '' in our next ! " The tail grew so long 'twas cut off at the stump. Which pussy express'd her glad thanks at! To the Isle-of-Man, packed in a hamper, they sent her. And passed her off there as a Manx cat ! In the foregoing lines there's a moral, To see it I trust you'll not fail ; For this is the end of the narrative, And also the end of the tail. THE MORAL. Brevity is the soul of true wit, it is said. So you, who for tale-telling thirst, Don't spin out your tales till they burdensome get. But cut them off short at the first. i6 3 A Paper Age. A York shi reman, true bred and born. The subject of my rhymes, A man who lived, and always did, A shade beyond the Times. His parents died when he was scarce A year and nine months old, And so his uncle brought him up A Guardian stern and cold. He went to an Academy. And was net long 1 before He passed the second Standard, still For knowledge thirsted more ; So in his Leisure Hoiir he The Nile's source tried to probe, And thought to find all he required By looking- at the Globe ! He studied Land and Water, knew The name of every river- His only pastime was a Bow, Broad Arroiv, and a Quircr. Although he in a province lived, Yet he had city views, And liked naught better than a Graphic Account of London Nezvs. A worthy Chronicle has said He was so systematic, And such a close Examiner He ne'er was found erratic. 164 A keen Observer, too, remarks That, from his early youth, His dealings with his fellow-men Were always based on Truth ; All those who knew him said he owned Of qualities a host, That quite an upright man was he In fact a Yorkshire Post. He loved his country and his Queen, But what to him was dearer, He traced his antecedents back Unto the Christian Era ! Though not of Independent means He bought nor did begrudge it Two papers daily, thus he got Of Daily News a Budget ! He passed from youth to manhood's prime And here a Record says, That from this period he grew Eccentric in his ways. Thus he would ask for a Gazette, At volunteer Reviews, While on a race-course he would seek Alone for Sporting News ! He did not care for Evening Mail, Yet for a Courier less, So sent his words by Telegraph, And travelled by Express. 'Twas here he longed for wedded bliss, And thought it would be wiser To do it by advertisement, So wed an Advertiser. i6 5 'Tis said, though, he repented oft Of ever getting" wed, And that his wife a Judy proved, And oft did Punch his head. But then we all know truest love Did never smoothly run ; While there are always Funny Folks Who say things just for Fun. He lived to be so very old, And passed his days so meekly, Until one morn he heard them cry " Ho ! John de Morgans Weekly / " At hearing which he started up, With face so deadly pale, And took a dose of Mercury While Echo spread the tale. "Ah, now," said he, "I've lived enough,. My term of Life is run : " Then laid him down, and slowly sank, Just like a setting Sun. And thus his Book of Life was read, And closed at the last page ; And from the World he passed away, At eighty years of Age. 1 66 Ough ! A FARMER'S man one rainy day Was following' the plough, He got wet through and caught a cold, Which ended in a cough ! He stayed at home till well again, Did nothing all day through Excepting mix the food for pigs, And take it to the trough, Or milk the cows, or butter churn, And thinking this enough He'd sit and smoke while merrily The birds sang on the bough. .A kind and honest heart did beat 'Neath his exterior rough ; He'd gambol with the children while His wife was making dough ! One day he went to see some friends Who lived beside a lough, And for protection home again He took a faithful shough. "With them he to the sea-side went, And clamber'd up a clough, Then venturesome he climbed the rocks, And tried to catch a chough. He miss'cl his footing and his hold, And fell into a slough, And by his friends he there was found, The water to his hough. 167 When seated by his fireside, Of what he had passed through That day he told the partner of His joys his troubles though ! The change of air had cured his cough. Again he sought the plough I'd like to tell you more although I think this quite enough. i68 The Age. AGE-S ago there lived a s-age. The subject of my story. And such an age-d man was he With hair and beard so hoar}-. A vis-age proud, yet sweetly calm, A bearing independent, As if of ancient line-age He was a true descendant ! He lived in lowly hermit-age, Away from worldly pleasures, And in the p-age-s of his books He found a mine of treasures. A garden cultivated, in Immediate vicin-age, Grew saxifr-age, and bor-age, too, And cabb-age, s-age, and spin-age. No lock and key defended it, He feard no nature sav-age Would e'er disturb his peace, or seek His dwelling place to rav-age. Of herb-age he'd a knowledge, and With herbs his food divided ; His only bever-age the wine Which nature had provided ! And far and wide his fame was known In town and country 7 vill-age, Alike by royal person- age. And sons of toil and till-age. 169 Thus he received the patron-age Of peasant, p-age, and sire; And lords with noble equip-age Did oft the s-age require. Perhaps some scripp-age to translate, In foreign langu-age written, Which shew'd the writer ere he died With deep remorse was smitten. For having made a for-age on Some weak defenceless neighbour. And pill-age-d house and lands of wealth- The fruit of honest labour. Or, perhaps, some register of birth All torn with age and faded, In which the parent-age was found Of one who lived degraded. And gallants gay, and ladies fair, With proud and haughty carri-age r Would oft this man of wisdom seek, And ask advice on marri-age. The children from the vill-age near, Would wander by his dwelling, Or sit beneath the foli-age, While he some tale was telling. He'd tell of manly cour-age, where The prize was some fair maiden ; Of carn-age fierce, of victors bold With spoils returning laden. " The age we live in/' he would say,. "Alas! is but a bad age;" And when the children sought to go- He grave to them this ad-age : 1 70 " Of all the age-s seven of man, Remember, this I pres-a^e, The age wherein most good is done, You'll always find is THE AGE.'' An Evening Concert. ONE night I to a concert went And thought to have a treat, And went quite soon, for you must know, I had not book'd my seat. And having- thus some time to wait I soon began to carp, And 'twas but natural that I should, But wish they would be sharp. At last the members of the band Assembled to a man, And bow 'd, and scraped to some tune, when The concert soon began. To tell of Scherzo brilliant, Andante most sublime. Adagio sympathetic, and Of Presto up to time Would take too many lines to write, And such then being the case I'll give a brief description, and Thus save a lot of space. A passage on the violins From symphony of Brahms Shew'd that a movement was on fool, Though 'twas a feat of arms ! First like a gallant charge, next like A melee, or a sortie, While each play'd forte, and piano, But not piano- forte ! 172 And though there was no single pause, Yet double stops were made, And each one work'd with right good will, And yet they only playd ! I noticed the conductor too, In movement most sublime, As how his beat seem'd rather slow Yet he was beating time ! When Pn'mn Donna next began To warble from the throat, I could not help but note her voice For 'twas a voice of note ! 'Twas full of power, but if I had Required further proof, The morning's paper said that she Had fairly raised the roof ! Another artiste soon appear'd, And sang with wanted grace, And though a tenor singer he I thought his voice was base ! No magic art, no wizard's wand Had e'er before transformed So many things as I that night Saw by the band performed. The drums they roll'd, and shakes were heard. And everybody quaver' d, And demi-semi-quaver'd too, But still they never waver'd. They often turn'd the scales, and yet They kept their balance well, And each one from his instrument Produced a heavy swell ! The violinists made a sweep, The trumpets made a flourish Such wonders I shall ne'er forget, But in my mem'ry cherish. The concert o'er I found the strains Of music ('tis no jest), Produced a strain upon my nerves, And so I sought my rest. Asleep, I saw each member of The band 'twas but a dream Suspended by a common chord Tied to a Broad-wood beam ! 174 Winter. THE Spring, and the Summer, and Autumn had fled And the Winter commenced his cold reign, And the rain as it fell turned fast to snow, And then turned to water again! The night came in sharp, and it froze so keen, And the policeman walking his beat Saw the sun go down in the golden west, And the father go down in the street ! The hedges, and trees, and the earth were white, A mantle was thrown over all, And a mantle was thrown o'er each wayfarer too In the shape of a cloak or a shawl. And many were sat in their slippers at home By the fireside's genial glow, And they never once thought of the cold outside, Nor the slippers who sat in the snow ! The snow it was white, and the night-wind blew, And the clouds were an ashen grey, And red was the nose of the weary one Who plodded his homeward way! He shook in his shoes, but 'twas not with fear, He was cold from his head to his toes, So he just took a "nip" at the wayside inn While the frost took a nip at his nose ! So the night wore on, and the snow fell fast, And the wind went howling- around, And the owls that lodged in the belfry-tower Screech'd an echo to the wierdly sound. 175 Soon silence and darkness reig-n'd over the land, And the frost at my finger-ends gnaw'd That no more could I write of this winterly rime. So I thought I would wait till it thaw'd. How Deal became Wood. JOHN ASHTOX WOOD, a smart young man, A joiner he by trade, Fell deep in love with Mary Deal, A deal of whom he made. When first he saw her graceful form He formed at once a plan, And drew it out so skilfully A friendship soon began. That friendship ripen'd into love It soon grew very plain To be cut out John thought it would Go much against the grain. And so he sent, address'd to her, A little scented note, Denoting all the love he felt, But this is what he wrote : " Dear Mary Deal I vow to you For love my heart doth pine, From which I want you to infer The love I seek is thine ; "Then if my suit accepted be I here of you beseech To grant to me an interview To-night upon the beach." When evening came, with beating heart The trysting place he sought; He threw a glance around, and then Of her a grlance he caught ! 177 They met, but neither spoke a word As up and down they paced, But soon he squared himself, and drew A circle 'round her waist ! In tender words he her address'd, And thought he'd made a hit. He press'd his suit, but soon began To think it did not fit ! But inch by inch he gained his ground, A rule with him you see, But talked so long it might have been A double rule of three ! He saw her home, arriving there They linger'd for awhile ; " 'Tis here I dwell," she said, but John He dwelt upon her smile ! Six months pass'd by, and all went smooth, They met each night the same, Then sagely John began to think 'Twas time the day to name. And when at last 'twas all arranged, All further doubts to quell He straightway went and bought the ring With which to ring the belle. They went to church, and while they both Before the parson stood The ring John on her finger placed, And lo ! she turned to Wood ! That deal is wood a deal would think, But 'tis not always true That Deal became but Wood when spliced I here have proved to you. 1 7 8 The Farmer's Appeal. A FARMER lived some years ago, A life both free and jolly, But oh ! there came a time when he Grew rather melancholy! To tell you how this chang-e took place It now is my intention, But first please know this tale is true, And not a mere invention. Ah ! true indeed, for I have heard My father oft repeat it! Oh ! how the joyous laughter rang-, With which we used to greet it ! Now understand, this farmer had Sown seed, and shrubs had planted " I'll have a splendid crop," said he Success he took for granted. The time passed on, and harvest came. The farmer was in clover, But ere his crops he gather'd in, Dark clouds began to hover. Said he, "At morning's break will I Begin my work to-morrow "- Too soon did he his chickens count, He found to his deep sorrow. He rose betimes, and roused his men,. By loudly on them calling Too late, alas! no work that day, For rain was quickly falling ! 179 He gather' d hope by thinking it Might be of short duration, But day pass'd by, and night had brought To him no consolation. He called it an unlucky day, You see it was a Friday, Said he, " I'll wait till Monday now, 'Twill sure to be a dry day." It rain'd all night, it rain'd next day, It rain'd all day on Sunday, And ah ! despair did fill his heart To find the same on Monday ! This farmer then remember'd that He once had heard a saying, That heav'n would give to those that asked,. And so he started praying. And as he pray'd he seem'd to feel His heart fresh hope was gaining, Although he often look'd outside And found it still was raining ! He pray'd, and pray'd, from morn till noon,. He called himself a sinner, And cried, ' O Lord, do hear my pray'r," And then he got his dinner. And having fed the inner man He pray'd again much stronger, Till bed-time came, then found that he That day could pray no longer. It rain'd all night, and morning found His hope a little shaken He cried aloud, " O Lord, am I Entirely forsaken ? " i8o But still he prayed through all that day As on the day preceding", Nor stopp'd, excepting- when he felt The body wanted feeding. So pass'd a week, 'twas rain, still rain, It seem'd like everlasting-, He thoug-ht he then besides his pray'r, Would try a little fasting-. And so he started well one morn, For sunshine loud appealing-, He pray'd away all throug-h that day, And night still found him kneeling ! He felt his knees had worn quite sore, So put on each a plaster, Then went and look'd without his door, But found it raining faster! That heav'n would not grant his appeal, It was but too conspicuous, And hope died out, as he exclaim'd, " Nay, Lord, this is ridiculous ! " iSi William and Mary Ann, A SERIOUS BALLAD. WILLIAM was a captain bold, Not Will of black-eyed Sue, But William Green, with eyes of brown, And hair of reddish hue. He loved a lass called Mary Ann, And long with her did court ; A steady man was he, although He sometimes was in port ! Nor did he care for games of chance,. To play for gain or loss, But still 'twas known by all that he Indulged in pitch and toss ! Of parents, dead some years ago, He was an only son, And though he never learnt a trade, A yarn he often spun. One day, before he sailed away, To Mary Ann he went, Said he, "I long to call you mine, And want but your consent;" " Then say, when 1 return from sea, That tied shall be the knot" But Mary Ann said ''No," for she Another bean had got. He begg'd and pray'd, she heeded not,. His pleadings were in vain, So up he got, and what he said Was something in this strain : 1 82 "O, Polly Ann thus me to serve I scarce can think it true, But still 'tis plain I'm not to be Sweet William unto you ! "Go, then, perfidious Mary Ann, For thou art false," he cried, "And here I vow, when I am dead, I'll come to your bed-side." Then straight he went down to his ship, And summon'd all his crew, Said he, "Now listen, shipmates all, To what I tell to you. "You know how long- I've loved my lass, And thought that she loved me; Alas ! alas ! it is not so, As you will quickly see. "To-day I asked her to be mine. At me she did but scoff ; So long with me she's carried on Now her I'll carry off ! "But this I cannot do alone, Say, will you be my aiders ? " Not one refused, but then, you see, They all were true cruise-aders ! "A simple plan I've formed," said he, "A plan which cannot fail, At once unto some other port We'll make pretence to sail. l< And in the darkness of the night Return to shore we can, Then seize the opportunity, And also Mary Ann." 183 Now William was not bad at heart, You know it has been said That love performs odd things at times, So love had turned his head ! And this no doubt accounted for His backward way of going", If so, then he was not to blame For such a course pursuing. The sails unfurl'd, they put to sea, And soon were out of sight, Then quietly tack'd to and fro, And waited for the night. And when at last the darkness fell, The captain's face grew stern, But conurbation flew around, For ere they could return A storm arose, the lightning flash'd, And loud the thunder roar'd, And while the vessel sprung a leak The captain sprung a-board ; And while the water fill'd the ship, Dismay did fill the sailors, And though they were but merchantmen, They proved themselves good wailers. By boat they sought escape, but found That they did overstock her, And captain, crew, and all went down To Davy Jones' locker. Now if 'twas not for William's oath I'd have no more to state, But what befell his Mary Ann To you I must relate : 1 84 At ten that night her work was done. She thought to bed she'd go, So went, and slept, it might have been, A couple of hours or so When from her sleep she started up. And trembled with affright, And close beside her bed she saw A something all in white ! And when it spoke she felt a chill Which caused her flesh to creep "O Mary Ann, myself and crew Are crusing in the deep ; "Alas! 'tis true, I, William Green, Am lying in the sea, But much it is against my Will 1 am compelled to be. "The time arrived for me to keep The oath I made to-day. And even had I wished it so, I could not stay away; " So thought that I to-night would come, 'Twas useless to defer it, Of ivater having had enough, I now appear in spirit ; " But long with you I cannot stay, For short now grows my power," And even as it spoke, the clock Began to chime the hour. " My mission here is now fulfilled. Except in this degree, I shall not come to you again, So you must come to me ! '' As it this last injunction gave It vanished into air, But Mary Ann still gazed upon The spot in blank despair. In fact, the shock to her was such, Of reason it bereft her, And ere the morning- dawn'd again Her breath had also left her. Such was the case, and though it may Quite strange to some appear. The spirit she received that night Had brought her to her Her ! A jury met, their verdict was "To us 'tis very plain As how that in the night she died Of wafer on the brain ! " But some there were who shook their heads,. And grave things did they utter. And then the undertaker came And in a coffin put her. They laid her 'neath the sod, and read O'er her a benediction, And at the head they placed a stone, And on it this inscription : "To William, lying in the sea, And not beneath this stone, And also to his Mary Ann, Who lieth here alone. " But if she had been true to him, And not proved a defaulter, Quite altered might the case have been, By going to the altar. 1 86 "And then instead of lying" here, Or lying in the ocean, Devoted might their lives have been In proving their devotion ; " But as they both from worldly care In death have found release, As how we can't re-lease their lives, May they now rest in peace." iS 7 A Tale of Dreamland. To the "Hunters of the South" this poem is dedicated as a mark of gratitude for their having rid the country of so many wild and dangerous animals. I HAD a dream, and this is what I dreamt, Though as a rule for dreams I feel contempt, I dreamt I saw three brave and sturdy rr/en Go forth to beard the lion in his den ; Each face with stern determination stamped As to the jungle these three heroes tramped. Each had a gun. and dogs two and a third ! Quite true is this, though it may seem absurd ; Seven dogs in all, and hunters only three, Divide three into seven the result you then will see. Before they far had gone one of the braves Fell soft, not caring to explore the caves; Nor with King Lion did he wish to fight, So bade adieu, and then he took to flight. The two went on alone pray do not think I chaff, Each one had his gun, and dogs three and a-half ! Divide two into seven, or half them in the middle, And if you're quick you'll find a solution to the riddle. These hunters in their march came across an old-worn tent, Storm-beaten, as did testify each rent ; It proved at least a covering for the head Alas ! it then turned out they'd not a crumb of bread ! The nearest station to them was many miles away, But to the pangs of hunger they soon became a prey. They could not starve, so one of them, a warrior true and bold, Made up his mind to fetch some, then turned out into the cold. 1 88 A wear}' walk he found it, for it was twelve miles good, But still he wandered onward attracted by the food ; Arriving- there he purchased, and placed it on his back, And then retraced his steps asain along- the weary track; But every lane a turning has, 'tis said, And soon he had a turning into bed. Upon the earth had fallen gentle sleep, Also snow, about twelve inches deep ! They arose refreshed about the break of day, Dressed, took breakfast, then forth went to the fray. Though cold, it was a sweet and lovely morn. The East was bright with silver streaks of dawn, And all around in snowy robe was clad, A sight to make the saddest heart feel glad, The trees, the valley, plain, and towering hill, While under Winter's spell the stream was still. Anon, as if to sniff the frosty air, There proudly strode a lion from his lair ; The battle then began, the lion bit the dust, [must," Another came, the hunters cried ''Now slay this one we And so they did; then came another, one, two, and three. And also over these they gained a victory. Then others came, until about a dozen Lay dead upon the snow quite stiff and frozen! The battle raged, and soon they added more The number then had reached about three score ! So passed the day, and as the night drew nigh A thousand lions on the trampled snow did lie ! Not a single one was left to receive a parting shot The battle there had raged so fierce and hot The very snow itself at last began to thaw. The scene then changed like magic, and looking on I saw A strange phenomenon (but in dreams it is a habit), Each lion had turned into a little innocent rabbit ! I awoke, and heard this issuing from my mouth : " Three hearty cheers for the 'Hunters of the South.' " 1 89 Cagliostro Leger=Demain. A PRESTO MOVEMENT. CAGLIOSTRO LEGER-DEMAIN, A man of strange ideas; He worked on people's feelings, on Their fancies and their fears. And this was all the work he did, Which may seem very strange ; But like himself his pockets, too, Were always full of change. To be a gentleman he thought There was no better proof Than seem above all others, so He held himself aloof. And whomsoever he should meet, He passed them coldly by; And walked along with stately tread, And tossed his head on high. He was not overstocked with brains, The reason was assigned That he to some one else had given A portion of his mind ! As others had before him, he The lover's part must play, And thus, unasked, to one unknown He gave his heart away. That she might read his mighty love, And reading it believe, He went to her one day and wore His heart upon his sleeve. igo Then down he sank upon his knees, And as an offering" meet, He offered her his hand, and laid His heart down at her feet. Said heart went bumping" up and down, A duty love confers ; He pleaded she responding- not, He raised his eyes to hers. Then started to his feet and stood Transfixed with blank surprise, For though she spoke no word he read Her answer in her eyes ! He differed from the abject one Who had so lately " popped.'' But then he could not look the same. Because his face had dropped ! She then began to talk to him, To comfort him she thought, But had not spoken very long Before he cut her short. That love should turn to hatred he No doubt wished to impart ; And stonily he stared at her, For he had stoned his heart ! As she had cast his love aside, As she his soul had wrung, Instead of giving her his heart He gave to her his tongue ! His words were not so loving, and They were not so refined; But then they could not be the same, For he had changed his mind. 191 Again she tried to speak to But found it would not do ; He turned his nose up haughtily, And snapped his fingers too. And then she cried aloud to him, As from the house he fled ; But he responded not a word But simply cut her dead. As on he flew he startled all The people whom he met; In fact they could not make him out^. For he was quite upset I As he excited grew, from him They terror-stricken fled ; To them he seem'd so very strange,. For he had lost his head ! Arrived at home, he peace nor rest Within his breast could find; But this was not so strange, for he .Had left his heart behind ! Reflection brought remorse, and to Repent he then began ; Yet people spoke the truth who said He was a heartless man. When next he walked along the streets Some thought he was deranged ; While others recognised him not, Because his face was changed ! He walked not now with head on high, Nor yet with stately tread, But walked along with step so slow, And sadly hung- his head. And if to any one he spoke, He never could be found To look them in the face, but cast His eyes upon the ground ! A would-be friend upon him called To know what 'twas about, But from him got no answer, for He found him wrong side out ! The lady's friends proceeded next To take the matter up, But when they sought an interview, They found him quite cut up ! It seemed to them as if he was Of reason quite bereft, First he himself collected, then He scattered right and left ! He ran for very life, but found, On taking his last stride, .He'd run himself quite out of breath, And so of course he died. '93 The Inconsistency of Man. THAT man is inconsistent, why It cannot be denied ; Beginning" at his birth, he then Becomes his mother's pride. And when about, say, three months old, If father, sister, brother, Or stranger seeks to coax him, he Turns quickly to his mother. Though but a child, he often is A lamb, a duck, a shrimp ! At times a little angel, and Again a little imp ! And when a year or two have passed, And he with action quick Performs some little deed, he then At once becomes a "brick!" And if he be inquisitive, As most of tender years, He listens then to everything, And thus becomes all ears ! Or if, when shewn some little trick, Perform it then he can, He changes from a little boy Into a little man ! In later years for fashion he May form a great regard, And thus in other people's eyes Does he become a "card." 194 And should he dress in novel style, As man will sometimes do, Though he becomes a swell, his dress Will oft become him too. The lover's part he studies next, And plays it full too soon, And then it is he often finds That he becomes a " spoon ! " If wedded life he enters, and The lady plays him rough, 'Tis then that he acknowledges That he has been a "muff!" And if his one particular friend His henpecked life discerns, Chameleon-like he'll first look black, Then red and white by turns ! But if with love and wealth endowed, If grandeur be his lot, He's looked upon as some one great, And thus becomes a " pot ! " But when asleep, and ignorant Of fashion, pride, and pelf, Whatever he may be awake, He then becomes himself. And when at last his end has come, And closed is his life's history, In death he's inconsistent, for He then becomes a mystery! '95 A Cure for the Dumps. (A RIDDLE). LONG years ago there lived a man, And such an aged man was he, His years had reached a mighty span Just like a spreading tree. And yet his heart was light and gay, Just as it was when but a boy, And merry as a child's at play With any kind of toy. Unknown to him was worldly care, For he with little was content, He always had enough to spare Because he little spent. Great was his love for fellowman, Because his heart was true and kind; Than such a love let they who can A better nature find. How perfect would the world become If every heart should beat like this, How sweet would be the lives of some Who know no loving kiss. To be like this we should be wise, And' wise we should be merry, too, A loving heart and kindly eyes Is best for me and you. Endeavour, then, ere time shall flee,. To make the best of all you can, And you may then as happy be As was this aged man. 196 Research is good for everyone, Improving- both the heart and mind, -Search, then, these verses, and, when done, His secret you shall find. SONGS. DEDICATED TO MY NIECES, MAUD AND AMY. To my Nieces, Maud and Amy. THERE is a song- for ev'ry heart, So tender, sweet, and low, And other themes may each depart If this we may not know. There is a heart for ev'ry song-, Whate'er the theme may be, And some to sighs and tears belong-, And some to mirth and glee. Sing lightly then. Sing brightly then, A cheerful song is often meetest, Sing- gladly then, Sing- sadly then, The song that pains is sometimes sweetest. The song's that I would sing- for you Are tender, grave, and gay. And I would sing- of gladness, too. To cheer you on life's way ; Then I would sing- a loving- strain, To echo in each breast, And mingle with each sweet refrain, And soothe your hearts to rest. Sing lightly then. Sing- brightly then, A cheerful song is often meetest, Sing- gladly then, Sing sadly then, The song that pains is sometimes sweetest. INDEX PAGE A Crown of Thorns . . . . . . . . 262 A Dream of Hope . . . . . . . . 233 Afterwards . . . . . . . . . . 251 All Love is sweet ! . . . . . . . . 258 Be mine, dear Maid . . . . . . . . 237 Best of All . . . . . . . . . . 271 Brown Eyes . . . . . . . . 223 Buttercup and Daisy . . . . . . . . 269 Caprice .. .. .. .. .. 219 Come Back . . . . . . . . . . 250 Come, Let us Wander . . . . . . 235 Cupid's Arrow . . . . . . . . 248 Drifted . . . . . . . . . . 274 Fairy Lamps . . . . . . -. . 245 Forget me not . . . . . . . . 230 For Love's Sweet Sake . . . . . . 244 God Bless You . . . . . . . 259 Good-night, Love, Good-n'ght . . . . . . 236 Good-night, Sweet Love . . . . . . 231 Hide and Seek . . . . . . . . 209 Knitting . . . . . . . . . . 205 Lily . . . . . . . . . 232 Little Sweethearts .. .. .. .. 254 Looking Back . . . . . . . . 224 Lost and Won . . . . . . . . 215 Love . . . . . . . . . . 221 Love in Disgrace . . . . . . 256 Lovers were They .. .. .. .. 218 Love's Springtime .. .. .. .. 213 My Own . . . . . . . . . . 260 Neighbours.. .. .. .. .. 211 O, Heart of Mine . . . . . . . . 206 O, Lost Love . . 208 PAGE "Once upon a Time".. .. .. .. 222 Over the Snow . . . . . . . . 239 Somebody's Waiting . . . . . . . . 252 Star of my Night . . . . . . . . 238 Sweetheart and I . . . . . . . . 272 Sweet Memory . . . . . . . . 240 Tell Me how to Woo .. .. .. .. 217 The Boy and the Butterfly .. .. .. 214 The Child's Dream .. .. .. .. 227 The Cobbler .. .. .. .. 261 The Dude's Idyll . . . . . . . . 275 The King of Kings . . . . . . . . 265 The Lily and the Rose . . . . . . 228 The Lily of the Valley . . . . . . 234 The Maiden and the Stream . . . . . . 247 The Mandoline Player . . . . . . . . 263 The Prayer.. .. .. .. .. 273 The Reason Why .. .. .. .. 226 The Soul's Awakening . . . . . . 253 Thou art my Queen . . . . . . . . 257 Two Pictures . . . . . . . . 220 What Somebody did . . . . . . . . 266 When the Heart is Young . . . . . . 268 When next we meet . . . . . . . . 255 With all my Heart . . . . . . . . 243 Wonderland .. .. .. .. 241 2O5 Knitting. SHE sat at a cottage door, Knitting, And counting the stitches o'er, Heigho ! she sighed, and knitted away, For someone she knew was coming that day The love of her heart to woo, And she knew not what to do ! And the somebody came at last, And her heart and the needles went fast Heigho ! heigho ! with her face aglow, With downcast eyes, and her head bent low, A fervent appeal she heard, But she answered never a word ! And he went away, and as before She sat at a cottage door, Knitting. She sat at a cottage door, Knitting, The same as the day before. Heigho ! she sighed, and her face was pale, Her eyes were sad, and they told a tale Of a sleepless night, and a weary pain, Of a longing for someone to come again ! And he came for his love was true, And swiftly the needles flew He came to offer his last appeal, And the light of her eyes did the truth reveal, And their vows were carried to heaven above As they knitted their hearts together with love. Heigho ! heigho ! as the evening wore, Two sat at a cottage door, Knitting ! 2O6 O, Heart of Mine. WHAT is this thou tellest me, O heart of mine ? That Love wageth war with thee With fell design ! Fond emotions thou must quell. And the tyrant Love expel, Keep my secret, guard it well, O heart of mine. Heart beware, and be not bought, Nor by flatt'ring tongue be caught. Won by love, by love be taught, O heart of mine. Tell me why this lonesome pain, O heart of mine ? Love hath been, but still in vain, With speeches fine ! Gold he brought, and thought to win, Gold and love are not akin ! Do not let the tyrant in, O heart of mine. Heart beware, and be not bought, Nor by flatt'ring tongue be caught, Won by love, by love be taught, O heart of mine. What is this thou sayest now, O heart of mine ? Love hath come with solemn vo\v, Pure and divine ! O my heart, whate'er betide, Open now thy portals wide, 207 Love at last may there abide, O heart of mine. Heart beware, and be not bought. Nor by flatt'ring tongue be caught. Won by love, by love be taught. O heart of mine. 208 O, Lost Love. DOST thou ever think, lost love, How we met, and \\ hat we said ? How we pledged our vows above, Ere our love lay cold and dead? Hast thou yet re-heard the tale, That I told to willing- ears, As we wander d down the vale, Now, alas, a vale of tears ? O, sweet spirit, come to me, Let me have one glimpse of thee, O, lost love With my head upon thy breast I would ask a moment's rest, O, lost love. Dost thou ever feel regret, Now that we are wide apart ? Would' st thou all the past forget, And love banish from thy heart ? There is one thing I would say, If to meet 'twere heaven's will, Though we parted then for aye I would say " I love thee still ! " O, sweet spirit, come to me, Let me tell my love to thee, O, lost love Come to me if but in death, Come, and take my parting breath, O, lost love. 2O9 Hide and Seek. WHERE is my sweetheart hiding, Hiding away from me ? Left all alone abiding, Love will impatient be ! Softly the wind is sighing, Sadly I hear its moan, For there is no replying, And I am here alone. Sweetheart, come, oh, come to me, Tender, loving, I will be, Hide your head upon my breast, Sweetheart, come, and be at rest. Where shall I seek to find her, Shall it be far or near ? Where have the Fates consigned her Whilst I am waiting here ? Over the hills I'll seek, love, Down in the deepest dell, To you my heart would speak, love, Something it has to tell. Sweetheart, come, oh, come to me, Tender, loving, I will be, Hide your head upon my breast, Sweetheart, come, and be at rest. Where hawthorn sweet encloses, Where ivy tendrils creep, Lying amongst the roses Sweetheart is fast asleep ! And I am pleased to see her, But, ere a kiss I take, 21O Love has gone forth to free her. And she is wide awake. But my sweetheart is with me. Tender, loving, I will be, Hide your head upon my breast, Sweetheart, stay, and be at rest. 211 Neighbours. SHE lived in a lowly cottage, And he in a stately hall, A barrier placed between them A park and a garden wall. A neighbourly nod at meeting, Exchange of a word or two, A look and a smile when greeting " Good-morning," and "how d'you do." Just a chance acquaintance, that and nothing more r Just a word of friendship at a cottage door, Just a warmer feeling that with hope is crown'd r And, oh, 'tis love, yes, oh, 'tis love that makes, the world go round. They said that her face was bonny, And tender her eyes ot blue, They said he was tall and handsome, And loved with a heart so true. 'Twas said, by the idle gossips, They knew what the end would be, That he was of lordly station, And she but of low degree. Just a chance acquaintance, that and nothing more r Just a word of friendship at a cottage door, Just a warmer feeling that with hope is crown'd, And oh, 'tis love, yes, oh, 'tis love that makes the world go round. And thus did they meet as neighbours Each day as the evening wore, When, resting from daily labours, She sat at the cottage door. 212 And so, as the time sped onward, They drifted on love's bright sea, And just like the " old, old story," He asked her his bride to be. Just a chance acquaintance, that and nothing" more, Just a word of friendship at a cottage door, Just a warmer feeling that with hope is crown'd, And, oh, 'tis love, yes, oh, 'tis love that makes the world ro round. 213 Love's Springtime. I AM awoke ! In rosy splendour Is come the youthful day of Spring ; Within me is a long-ing-, tender. As I to thee am hastening ! The sun is bright, and dewdrops glisten, The birds their praises have begun, But then my sun hath not yet risen, For thou, my dearest, art my sun. I come to thee, O fairest maiden, Nor nature's beauties hear nor see ; The air with perfume may be laden, I only know I'm nearer thee ! My heart with love is fondly beating, And seeks communion with its mate,. I come to pay my morning greeting, Beneath thy window, sweet, I wait. I am alone ! yet thou hast tarried ! A sacred feeling fills my heart As to the land of dreams I'm carried, To be with thee, though here apart. But now the cloud of doubt is riven, And sweetest dreams I realise, As all the light and love of heaven I see reflected in thine eyes. 2I 4 The Boy and the Butterfly. I SAW a boy with rosy face, And spirits flowing high, One summer's day give eager chase To gaudy butterfly; And soon he caught the glittering thing, And held it in his grasp, Too late he saw the drooping wing, And felt the feeble gasp. The pleasure o'er he fain would give The life he had destroyed, And wished that he again could live The hour so misemployed ! Methought, how like the boy are \ve ! So eager for the chase, We start with hearts so light and free To run life's tempting race ! The cup of joy we seize and drain, And then, oh, vain regret, We wish the time were ours again, Or that we could forget ! 'Tis oft a sad and broken heart Is left the tale to tell, Remorse then, keen as pointed dart, With us is left to dwell. 215 Lost and Won. THERE was once a happy maiden, Happy as the day was long 1 , For her life with joy was laden, And her heart was full of song"; But there was a certain summer, And there was a certain clay, Someone came, and saw, and won her, Came and stole her heart away. Oh, hearts are won, and hearts are lost, But, oh, for the one that is tempest-tost, But glad is the heart that, in seeking- a rest, Doth an anchorage find in a faithful breast. Oh, the maiden's heart had left her. And she knew not what to do, Ot all joy it had bereft her, And her song was silent, too ! And her breast was filled with sorrow, And her eyes were filled with tears Would her heart come back to-morrow, Would it stay away for years ? Oh, hearts are won, and hearts are lost, But, oh, for the one that is tempest-tost, But glad is the heart that, in seeking a rest, Doth an anchorage find in a faithful breast. Oh, the maiden watched and waited, It was summer time again, And once more, with joy elated, Sang she forth a gay refrain ! Found at last, but not to sever, Love-links are too tightly spun 2l6 She had lost her heart for ever, But another heart had won ! Oh, hearts are won, and hearts are lost. But, oh, for the one that is tempest-tost, But glad is the heart that, in seeking- a rest, Doth an anchorage find in a faithful breast. 2I/ Tell me how to Woo. MAIDEN, with the raven locks, And face so sweet and true, Deep blue eyes so bright and soft, O. tell me how to woo ! Shall I, as the knights of old, Perform some daring" deed ? Or at thy feet, on bended knee, Shall I my passion plead ? When all i-s hushed, when moon and stars. Shine brightly from above, Then, shall I 'neath thy window sing- To thee a song of love ? Or shall I seek some cairn retreat, Beneath some spreading tree, And there, whilst nature breathes of love. Pour out my soul to thee ? O, each of these, or all combined, To win thee I would do ! Then do not keep me waiting, love. But tell me how to woo. 218 Lovers were they. LOVERS were they a youthful pair, Flushed with the golden dream ; Summer's best days seemed none too fair Passing along life's stream. Gaily they talked of coming years. Roaming through mead and vale What so sweet as, to willing ears, Telling the old, old tale ! Love is fickle, so they say, True love, though, is love for aye. Lovers were they a happy pair, Passing from summer gay Into the autumn, finding there Love's sweetest, fairest day. Two lovely blossoms sweetly bloomed, Gifts of a faithful love, Bringing two hearts, in each entombed, Nearer to heaven above. Love is fickle, so they say, True love, though, is love for aye. Lovers were they an aged pair, Life's sweetest songs were sung, Winterly rime had touched their hair, But left their hearts still young. Happy they seemed the whole day long, Wandering side by side, Talking of days when he was strong, And she a blushing bride. Love is fickle, so they say, True love, though, is love for aye. 219 Caprice. YOUNG Love was in a merry mood As he one day went roving" He saw a youth and maiden stood, And heard their vows so loving" ! He whisper'd in the maiden's ear : " Decide not till the morrow ! " She told the youth he dash'd a tear, And turned away in sorrow. Next morning found the youth once more Before his lady pleading, But Love had passed that way before, And so, all vows unheeding, She told the youth it was in vain And deeper grew his sorrow, And thus again, and still again, 'Twas put off till the morrow ! The weeks, and months, and years pass'd by- The two so long had tarried, The youth a bachelor did die, The maiden never married ! From this, true lovers all, ye may I think this moral borrow : " Whatever can be done to-day Put off not till the morrow." 22O Two Pictures. I LOOK'D into my lady's eyes. She bade me " pray beware ! " I heeded not, and with surprise I saw this picture there : A little boy with bow and dart, And aiming- straight at me, He sent an arrow to my heart, And then he laugh'd with glee .' Merrily dancing 1 , Merrily glancing, Merrily laughing he. I look'd into my lady's eyes, She bade me " have a care ! And once again with glad surprise I saw a picture there : The boy had cast his bow aside. And on Love's boundless sea He sail'd away, and. laughing, cried, ' One conquest more to me ! " Merrily dancing, Merrily glancing. Merrily laughing he. 221 Love. LOVE is but a boy, they say, Who delights with hearts to play ! But there lurks, beneath his smile, Mischief which he brews the while, Giving wounds that will not heal, Caring" not what hearts may feel ! Trust him not ye maidens fair. Love is fickle ! have a care. Love is blind ! they say, ah me, I believe he will not see ! From his bow there speeds a dart. Straight it goes to some poor heart- Far and wide his arrows range, What cares he if love may change ? Trust him not ye maidens fair, Love is fickle ! have a care. Love is bold ! they say, ah well, Loving hearts alone can tell ! But the heart may love in vain, And the sweetness turn to pain ! What cares Love for broken ties ? W T hat cares he for tears and sighs ? Trust him not ye maidens fair, Love is fickle ! have a care. 222 "Once upon a time. ONCE upon a time, such a long time ago, There dwelt, in a palace built of gold, A princess young and fair, and golden was her hair,. Which grew so long her form it would enfold ! Her beauty was so great, it was talked of far and near, And many sought to win her heart and hand, And suitors gay had she, who swore, on bended knee, For love they would obey her least command ! She gave to them a task, did this princess young and fair, And she said, "Be he young, or be he old, I pray you understand I will give my heart and hand, Together with my palace built of gold, To him who first performs it, then be it known to all, To stir my inmost soul the task shall be, With the most thrilling story ! " Some told of fame and glory, Whilst others told of perils of the sea. Her soul was still unmoved when at last a suitor came,. And told to her a simple tale of love ! He praised her golden hair, and he told her she was fair. And that her eyes were like the stars above ! Her blushes went and came, and she heaved a tender sigh, And laid her hand in his when he had done, For love her soul had thrill'd, and love her heart had fill VI, And this is how the princess fair was won. 223 Brown Eyes. ONLY a pair of laughing- eyes, Only two eyes of brown, But oh ! by far a greater prize Than coronet or crown ! Full of mischief, full of fun, Brimming- o'er with glee, As the streamlet in the sun Dances merrily ! Only two eyes, yet dearer far Than jewels rich and rare, And brighter than the brightest star In summer skies so fair ! Depth of feeling, depth of thought, Love and truth dwell in them, Such a prize could ne'er be bought, Love alone can win them ! A pair of dark and soul-lit eyes, Beaming with love divine, A love that sleeps but never dies, Though heart all else resign ! Tender, loving, sweet and true, Their inmost depths reveal A soul so pure reflecting through, Where shadows dare not steal 1 224 Looking Back. 'TWAS morning', oh, so lovely, 'Tvvas in the springtime fair, A song- so pure and holy Came floating on the air ; I stayed awhile to listen, And back there came to me The happy days of childhood, When life was young and free. Like a dream they passed before me, From my heart there rose a sigh, Yet a sweet content came o'er me, Looking back to days gone by. 'Twas evening in the summer, My heart was strangely gay, As by the stream I lingered Where oft I used to stray ; The birds were sweetly singing, The sun was sinking low, And thought its flight was winging To days of long ago. Like a dream they passed before me, B'rom my heart there rose a sigh, Yet a sweet content came o'er me, Looking back to days gone by. "Twas night, so dark and cheerless, A winter's night so cold, I heard a song so tender, A song I knew of old ; My heart was sad and lonely, But listening to the strain, 225 The days of spring and summer I thought I lived again. Like a dream they passed before me, From my heart there rose a sigh, Yet a sweet content came o'er me, Looking back to days gone by. 226 The Reason Why. A MAIDEN came tripping along, And her heart was merry with song! " Tell me," I said, " My beautiful maid, The reason thy spirits flow high." " My heart is free As it e'er will be, And that is the reason why." The maiden I met once again, But gone had the merry refrain ! "Tell me," I said, " My beautiful maid, The reason you wander and sigh." " I cannot be gay, For my heart's gone astray, And that is the reason why." I met the fair maiden once more, And her song was as sweet as before ! "Tell me," I said, " The reason, dear maid, Of the love-light that beams in your eye. " My heart is at rest In a faithful breast, And that is the reason why." 227 The Child's Dream. MOTHER, dear, why are you weeping, Why do tears steal down your cheek ? I have had a dream while sleeping 1 , And I heard an angel speak, But his voice was filled with sadness, And my heart was filled with fears, For a river flowed between us, It was called " A mother's tears.'' Mother, dear, oh, do not weep, I in heaven to-night must sleep I Mother, I've again been dreaming, And I thought I was a star, Far across the river beaming, And I in that land so far Heard again the angel speaking, And his voice was sweet and mild, To his bosom I was folded, And he kissed your darling child. Mother, dear, oh, do not weep, I in heaven to-night must sleep L 228 The Lily and the Rose. A ROSE bloom'd in a garden fair, A lily grew beside, -A youth, in passing-, pluck'd the pair, And placed them side by side ; Forget-me-nots he twined around, And held in their embrace, The rose was with sweet beauty crown'd, The lily filled with grace ! But, closely press'd, he did not see The keen and slender dart, And how the rose so silently Had pierced the lily's heart ! He gave them to a fair young maid As emblem of his love, " Accept this gift from me," he said, " 'Twill my devotion prove ! As on the heart of this sweet rose Reclines the lily fair, So let your heart on mine repose, And dwell for ever there." " But see ! the lily's heart is torn ! " She cried in great dismay, -" The rose has planted there a thorn, And life has passed away ! " And so it proved in after years, Though life had seemed so fair, The maiden's heart grew sad with tears, A thorn was planted there ! The youth a fairer flow'r had seen, So cast the old aside, 229 And on the day he crown'd it queen His lily droop'd and died ! And at her faithful heart they found, (For so the story gx>es), Forget-me-nots, entwined around A lily, and a rose ! 230 Forget me not. THEY stood beside the garden gate, A youthful pair, And though the hour was growing late They lingered there : -"And wilt thou wait for me," said he, " Whate'er my lot ? " Said she, " Be true as I to thee, Forget me not." " Dear love," said he, " at morning's break I cross the sea, Then wear this token for my sake, And think of me." Each dreaded in that parting hour They knew not what ! Her token was a little flow'r : " Forget-me-not." He sailed away to lands afar To win a name, And guided by his one bright star He gathered fame ! A year or more passed by, and she No message got, Her heart drooped low, alas ! had he So soon forgot ! No, not forgot ! at last there came Joy to her heart, For he returned from seeking fame No more to part ! They met, the garden gate beside, That dear loved spot He drew her to his heart, she cried, " Forgotten not." 231 Good = night, sweet Love. SERENADE. GOOD-NIGHT, sweet love, Angels above O'er thee their vigils are keeping; Bright as yon star, Beaming afar, Be thy dreams, dearest, whilst sleeping. Sweet peace and rest Dwell in thy breast, But should a sorrow come near thee, Then have no fear, I will be near, And with my love I will cheer thee. Dark would the world be, love, without thee, Thou art my star of light, Sleep, then, beloved, and wake but for me Good-night, sweet love, good-night. At morning's break, Dearest awake, At the old tryst I will meet thee ; Come to me there, Birds of the air With a sweet love song shall greet thee. So dear thou art, That I would part Sooner with life than resign thee ; Sleep on, sleep on, When I am gone, To heaven's care I consign thee. Dark would the world be, love, without thee, Thou art my star of light, Sleep, then, belov6d, and wake but for me Good-night, sweet love, good-night. 232 Lily. BESIDE a clear and sparkling- stream, That rippled on with glee. A lovely flower bloomed alone, A flower fair to see ! Whilst dewdrops glistened on its brow, And breezes fann'd its cheek, The birds, to sing- their joyful songs, The lovely spot would seek, And whilst they every morning of its beauty sang- in- praise, Its leaves would gracefully unfold to greet the sun's warm rays. The flower's summer passed away. Its winter came too soon, One night its lovely head drooped low. Whilst wept the silent moon ! Low murmurs floated o'er the stream, The breezes softly sighed, And whilst the birds a requiem sang The fair young flower died. Where joyful song resounded, now is heard a plaintive strain, In memory of the flower that will never bloom again. 233 A Dream of Hope. A LIGHT in the window was burning-, In a cottage that stood by the sea, And a wife, who was weary with watching, Fell asleep with her babe on her knee ! And, sleeping-, she saw in a vision A barque being- toss'd on the wave, But hope in her heart softly whisper'd That heav'n had the power to save ! Oh ! the winds may blow, and the tempest grow, But a trusting heart no fear should know ! The night's dark'ning shadows had fallen Fast over the land and the sea Whilst the storm-king rode forth on the tempest A barque struggled hard to be free ! All hope had forsaken the skipper, It seem'd that his prayers were in vain, But visions of home rose before him, And hope in his heart lived again ! Oh ! the winds may blow, and the tempest grow, But a trusting heart no fear should know ! The light in the window burn'd dimly. The wife of the sailor still slept, And down by the sea the bold skipper From his storm-beaten barque quickly stept He hasten'd away to his cottage, A welcome awaited him there. And two loving hearts were united, Where hope like a star shone so fair. Oh ! the winds mav blow, and the tempest grow r , But a trustin''- heart no fear should know! 234 The Lily of the Valley. THERE is a little flower, Not one of beauty rare, But one so pure and simple, A flower sweet and fair ! When stars are brightly shining-, 'Tis then I love to tarry Where dwells this pretty flower, The lily of the valley. There is a pretty maiden, With bright and sunny hair, With blue eyes soft and tender, And face so sweet and fair ! When I from her am parting, And at the gate we tarry, I kiss the fair young flower, The lily of the valley. I love the pretty maiden, I love to call her mine, I love to hear her whisper, " My heart is only thine ! " When I have wooed and won her, And when we two shall marry, She'll wear, with orange blossom, The lily of the valley. 235 Come, Let us Wander. GENTLE maiden, let us wander Down beside the moon-lit stream, Whilst my heart for thee grows fonder I will tell thee Love's sweet dream ! All is hushed, the air is laden With a perfume rich and rare, Hasten then, O, sweetest maiden, Come, and let us wander there. Zephyrs light are softly sighing, Whispers pass from tree to tree, Stars peep forth, the day is dying, Hasten then, O, love to me. Soft the Queen of Night is shining, Everything is bright and fair, Where the moonbeams are reclining Come, and let us wander there. Airy choristers are pouring Forth their praise in evening song, Heavenward the strain is soaring, By the breeze 'tis borne along. Silence reigneth in the valley, Perfumed flowers scent the air, Maiden, sweet, O, do not tarry, Come, and let us wander there. 236 Good=night, Love, Good=night. AT her latticed window- Sits a maiden fair, Gentle zephyrs playing With her sunny hair ; Silver moonbeams falling On her sweet young face Shed a radiance 'round her Form of gentle grace. Sweetly meditating. There she sits alone, At her window waiting For the voice of one ; See her smile of gladness, See her eyes grow bright, As to her is wafted, " Good-night, love, good-night. 237 Be Mine, dear Maid. BE mine, dear maid, and I will love thee, And guard thee from all worldly strife ; Bright as the stars that shine above thee Shall be thy life ! 'Tis not for those bright eyes I love thee, Nor for those raven locks of thine, 'Tis not because thy face is lovely I'd have thee mine ! For Time may of thy beauty rob thee, The roses on thy cheeks may fade, Thine eyes grow dim, but still I'll love thee, My own dear maid ! We'll never part till death shall sever The tie that is by mortal made ; I love thee now, I'll love thee ever Be mine, dear maid ! 2 3 8 Star of my Night. STAR of my night ! as I think of thee There cometh a sweet sad strain ! But all is past and my tears fall fast, Waiting to see thee again ! Light of my life ! bright star of my hope That beam'd in the by-gone years, The winds sadly moan and I am alone. Alone with my sorrow and tears ! Star of my night! through the gath'ring clouds I watch for thy light in vain ! There gleams not a spark and my soul grows dark, Leaving my heart filled with pain ! Star of my night ! a prayer for thee I send up to heaven afar ! And a still small voice bids my heart rejoice Where shinest thou now, oh, my star ? 239 Over the Snow. OVER the snow there cometh The voice of a child at play ; Over the hills it roameth, Passing for ever away. So do the days of childhood Pass o'er like a fleeting" dream, Or a song- that is heard in the wild-wood, Doth fade o'er the murm'ring stream. Over the snow there cometh The sound of the village bells ; Over the hills it roameth, And this is the tale it tells : "Two loving hearts united, Two hope-laden souls made one ;" But the Winter's keen breath oft hath blighted Ere Summer hath well begun. Over the snow there cometh A wild and despairing cry ; Over the hills it roameth, Dying away in a sigh. 'Tis of a soul uncertain Speeding away to its doom, As the night, with its dark sable curtain, Doth shadow the earth in gloom. Over the snow there cometh A chant on the morning air; Over the hills it roameth, And echoes repeat it there ; Over the earth it ringeth ; Over each mountain and glen ; And this is the message it bringeth : " Peace and goodwill to all men." 240 Sweet Memory. GONE are the days of my youth, Gone, nevermore to return ! Days of bright sunshine and truth, For thee my sad heart doth yearn. Happy and free was I then, Sorrow to me was unknown Would I could live, once again, Days that forever have flown. Though weary years may pass o'er, Though I of joys am bereft, Though youthful days come no more, Still have I sweet memory left. Gone are the friends whom I loved, Friends who were tender and true ; Gone are the scenes where we roved Down where the wild flowers grew. Passed like a beautiful dream, Leaving the heart filled with pain, Those happy days it would seem Will never more come again. Though they for ever are o'er, Though I of joys am bereft, Though I meet loved ones no more, Still have I sweet memory left. 241 Wonderland. THERE sits a child with pensive face, And wonder in its eyes, Where recent tears have left a trace Of sadness and of sighs ! And as the look of wonder grows, At fancies pictured there, The tear-stained face with rapture glows, And life seems bright and fair. But the dream is finished, and the spell is o'er, And the eyes are sad again that were glad before, Back to earth the spirit comes, and the heart is sore, Lives there but in wonderland joy for evermore ! A maiden sits in thoughtful mood, Her eyes are red with tears, For someone's heart her own has woo'd, Yet left it filled with fears, But sitting there her eyes grow bright, A glad look enters there, As airy fancies take their flight, And love grows sweet and fair. But the dream is finished, and the spell is o'er, And the eyes are sad again that were glad before, Back to earth the spirit comes, and the heart is sore, Lives there but in wonderland love for evermore ! There sits a woman aged with years, And sorrow's deep'ning pain, And through a mist of rising tears She views the past again, But as the vision fades away Her eyes are filled with light, The dawning of a brighter day When dark has been the night. 242 But the dream is finished, and the pain is o'er, And the eyes have smiled again that were sad before, From the earth the soul has fled to that golden shore. Finding in the wonderland rest for evermore. 243 With all my Heart. OH, never deem my love untrue, Whatever else may be, It will not roam away from you, You are so dear to me ! But if it be that we should part, All fears then cast aside, For I'll be true with all my heart Whatever else betide. With all my heart I love you, Let doublings then be o'er, I could not, dearest, love you less,. Nor could I love you more, For you are all the world to me, Together or apart, And if my love is what you ask, Why, take it with all my heart- Though love may come with false design, And tale yet sweetly told, Its song is still a song divine, And though the theme be old, Yet once again I'll sing, dear love, The sweet refrain to you, And trust with all my heart to prove That love is sometimes true. With all my heart I love you, Let doubting-s then be o'er, I could not, dearest, love you less,. Nor could I love you more, For you are all the world to me, Together or apart, And if my love is what you ask, Why, take it with all my heart. For Love's sweet Sake. 'Tis at a rustic garden gate, A youth and a maiden stand, And though the hour is growing late, They linger there hand in hand. " Farewell," said he, his voice was sad, Yet tender the words he spake, " Fear not, but let your heart be glad, I love you for love's sweet sake." 'Tis hard when kindred souls must part, And last spoken words are heard, With none to cheer the lonely heart, With tender and loving word. "Oh stay," said he, "those falling tears, And sweet consolation take, For love so true should know no fears, I love you for love's sweet sake," "Farewell, farewell, dear love," said he. And this was his last " good-bye ; " "Be true, dear love, be true to me;" She answered him with a sigh. " But ere I go, oh, hear my vow : I swear by this kiss I take, In after years the same as now, To love you for love's sweet sake." 245 Fairy Lamps. IN the twilight dimly falling, Shadows flitting- here and there, Sits a maiden idly dreaming, For her heart knows naught of care F And she pictures, in the shadows, Fancies born of fancy free, Whilst the glow of dying embers, Fairy lanterns seem to be. Thus she muses in her dreaming, As the lights and shadows fall, Though the soul be dark and dreary,. Hope will light the path for all. But there comes a time of sorrow, And a time of weeping, too, For the maiden's heart has left her, And she knows not what to do. Once again she dreams in fancy, In the shadows of the day, And the fairy-lights, that follow, Seem to chase her fears away ! Thus she muses in her dreaming, As the lights and shadows fall, Though the soul be dark and dreary,. Hope will light the path for all. Sits she in the light of even, Dreaming o'er again the past, For her heart is placed in keeping, And she knows 'tis safe at last, And the shadows, growing deeper, Weave a spell she would not break, 246 "Whilst the fairy-lights reveal her Looking" glad for someone's sake. Thus she muses in her dreaming, As the lights and shadows fall, Though the soul be dark and dreary, Hope will light the path for all. 247 The Maiden and the Stream. A MAIDEN, one day, sat beside a stream, A sorrowful maid was she, Sat weeping and dreaming an idle dream? Of one who had gone to sea ! And pale was her face, and her eyes were sad, And low was her trembling cry : " O stream have you heard of my sailor lad ? " And this was the stream's reply : "I come from afar, where the sea-birds sing, And merrily go my way, And messages tender I sometimes bring, And messages grave and gay ; Then be of good cheer, let your heart be glad, The message I bring for you Is, ' Love to my lass from her sailor lad, Who loves with a love so true.' ' The birds, overhead, sang a glad refrain, The stream ran merrily by, And joy filled the heart of the maiden again At hearing the stream's reply ! Her tears and her sadness gave place to song, As gaily she went her way, Whilst murmur'd the stream as it flow'd along, Still seeming to her to say : "I come from afar, where the sea-birds sing, And merrily go my way, And messages tender I sometimes bring, And messages grave and gay ; Then be of good cheer, let your heart be glad, The message I bring for you Is, 'Love to my lass from her sailor lad, Who loves with a love so true.' ' 248 Cupid's Arrow. WHEN Love was young-, and idly playing-, He shot an arrow through the air, And high and far it flew, then swaying", It fell to earth he knew not where ! His childish heart was filled with sorrow, As he to Venus quickly hied : " High in the air I shot an arrow, Oh ! tell me where it fell ! " he cried. " Sheathed in a heart, may be, Of some tender flower, Go and search abroad," said she, "Go and know thy power!" At morn he in a garden wander'd Where bloom'd the lily and the rose, And as he linger'd there and ponder'd, He saw their velvet lips unclose, Each flow'r a heart to him revealing-, But still he found no arrow there, A weariness o'er him came stealing-, And filled his young heart with despair ! " Sheathed in a heart, may be, Of some tender flower, Where now shall I search," cried he, " And thus learn my power ? " Aweary, and heart sa \ with weeping, Ag-ain he sought a garden fair; A sweet rose of a maiden sleeping- He saw amongst the flowers there ! He pressed her lips, her eyes unclosing-, She drew the wanderer to her breast, 249 And whilst upon her heart reposing- He found his arrow safe at rest Sheathed in her maiden heart ! Not his the hand to sever, He knew the pain it would impart So left it there for ever ! 250 Come Back. THE evening" was still, the twilight \vas low, The birds' vesper songs were done. When keeping the tryst, but one year ago, I waited and watch'd alone. O love that I thought was true, O love that was told in vain, O love that had fled, O heart that lay dead, Murm'ring its sad song of pain : Come back my love to me, Come love that was to be, Low the wind is sighing, Whilst thus my heart is crying : When love shall cease to be, Leaving" thee only, When thy heart is lonely Come back, my love, to me. In winter's cold days, in blossom of spring, In summer when all is gay; In autumn when beauty hath taken to wing, And love shall have passed away ; In life's ever changing scene A thought may still live for me, But though wide apart, yet deep in my heart, Ever the one song shall be : Come back my love to me, Come love that was to be, Low the wind is sighing, Whilst thus my heart is crying: When love shall cease to be, Leaving" thee only, When thy heart is lonely, Come back, my love, to me. 25' Afterwards. (SEQVKL TO " COME BACK.") THOUGH years have passed since last we met, Oh, do not say that love is cold, 'Tis better that we should forget, And link the new love with the old. 'Tis but the past that now is dead, Not love that feels the winter's chill, For this I know, though years have fled, I love you still, I love you still, Dearest and best, love, dearest and best, Waiting is over, love is at rest, Thus do we meet, love, passing the test, Dearest and best, love, dearest and best. Ah, no, 'tis not that love is cold, For love may live through weary years ! As rain-clouds oft are lined with gold So love is sweeter bathed in tears. Then let your heart be young again, As in the days of long ago, For even now, as even then, I love you so, I love you so. Dearest and best, love, dearest and best, Waiting is over, love is at rest, Thus do we meet, love, passing the test, Dearest and best, love, dearest and best. 252 Somebody's Waiting. SHE wander'd alone, ere the sun went to rest, A sweet little maid of nine, So happy and free, and array'd in her best Was she for the weather was fine. The birds chirp'd and nodded, \vhile seeming to say, " Sweet maid, come sit under the tree," But shaking- her head, she replied, " No, good-day, For somebody's waiting for me." The wind kiss'd her cheeks to a radiant glow ; The sunlight danced round her feet; The stream gaily sang, 'mid its murmurings lo\v ; The lambs gave a soft plaintive bleat ; Each one, to the maiden, was seeming to say, " Oh ! stay, our fair mistress to be ; " But shaking her head, she replied, " No, good-day, For somebody's waiting for me." The sunlight had faded in crimson and gold, And sleep reign'd in field and lane, The lambs had been gather'd up into the fold ; The maid was returning again ; The stars seemed to say with their soft twinkling light, " At home little maidens should be ; " And nodding her head, she replied, "Yes, good-night, For somebody's waiting for me." 253 The Soul's Awakening. 'TWAS in a cathedral city, She passed through the crowded street, A stranger to love and pity, With nowhere to stay her feet ! Her life had been one great shadow, And darkness had reigned within, Nor pleading, nor weeping in sorrow, Had lightened her weight of sin ! From kindred and dear ones parted, And shun'd by the rich and poor, She, weary and broken-hearted, Sank down at the Minster door. There, kneeling in meek submission, She peer'd through the open door, And saw, as it seem'd, the vision Of Love that is evermore. The Minster was filled with glory, A speaker was heard within Repeating the simple story That told of a ransom'd sin. The choristers sang of gladness, Which lifted her weight of cares, And casting aside her sadness She mingled her voice with theirs : Thou art indeed my Saviour, Thou art my God above, Thou art my Lord and Master, Thou art my soul's great love. Thus hath Thy Word been spoken, Strong with its love divine Lord, though my heart be broken, Take me, my soul is Thine. 254 Little Sweethearts. SHE was six and he was ten, Little playmates they ; All their secrets they would tell, For they loved each other well, In their childish way ; And they played at sweethearts, too, Just as older people do, And he tried his best to woo, Yet 'twas only play. He grew up and so did she, Ten years passed away; Constant changes rule the heart, And their lives grew wide apart, It might be for aye. Did he ever think of her ? Did her thoughts to him refer? Did that love their heart strings stir When 'twas only play? Once again they met and loved, It was summer gay ; Now he woo'd a blushing maid, Telling her of vows, once said, On a by-gone day. Seeds of love, in childhood sown, Into riper love had grown, And they, though long years have flown, Oft at sweethearts play. 255 When next we Meet. How will it be when next we meet ? Will gladness then be yours and mine, Or will the past have grown less sweet, And love's fair sun have ceased to shine ? My heart is chill'd with anxious fears That you may not so constant be, Yet why should absence change to tears The love that gave your heart to me ! But still if love has lived to die, If bygone days are now less sweet, 'Twere best that we should say good-bye When next we meet, when next we meet. Your eyes that beamed with love divine Your lips that warmed with kisses .sweet Your heart that once was only mine How will it be when next we meet ? 'Twere better if we had not met Than love should now inconstant be, And yet I would not once forg'et When love first gave your heart to me But still if love has lived to die, If bygone days are now less sweet, 'Twere best that we should say good-bye When next we meet, when next we meet. 256 Love in Disgrace. LOVE went roaming" forth one day, With his bow and arrows, And he was a sportsman gay, Shooting hearts, not sparrows. And he shot of hearts a few, All their charms revealing-, Then he laughed, for well he knew The smart each one was feeling. Oh ! love is pleasure, love is pain, And love is sweet and true ! So love may come, and not in vain, To stay with me and you. Love went roaming forth again, It was on the morrow, And his heart was filled with pain Born ot childish sorrow. But a smile lit up his face, All the dimples wooing, And he soon forgot disgrace In other mischief doing. Oh ! love is pleasure, love is pain, And love is sweet and true ! So love may come, and not in vain, To stay with me and you. 257 Thou art my Queen. I'LL sing to thee, and yet thou may'st not hear me, A song" of love to mingle with thine own I know not if thou art afar or near me, For thou and I to each are all unknown ! I love thee, sweet, and yet I may not meet thee As on the world we wander day by day ; With loving" smile or look I may not greet thee, Nor speak the tender words that sweethearts may; And yet thou art my queen, where-e'er thou reignest, My life, my love, to whom, on bended knee, I pledge my heart, nor ask thee if thou deignest, To take from one thou may'st not know, nor see. I sometimes feel that thou art somewhere nearer, As if our souls in loving touch had met, 'Tis then I know that thou art growing dearer, And love is mingled with a sad regret That someday we may meet, and in our meeting No sign will show to us that love is nigh, And we may pass without a single greeting, Without a word of welcome or good-bye ; And yet thou art my queen, where-e'er thou reignest, My life, my love, to whom, on bended knee, I pledge my heart, nor ask thee if thou deignest To take from one thou may'st not know, nor see. 258 All Love is Sweet ! ALL love is sweet! then let me taste Its sweetness from your lips. Nor give to me with eager haste, But just in dainty sips ! And breathe to me with tender speech, In words that sweeter grow, A language that alone can teach Me all that I would know. All love is sweet! and yet how small Is love to you and me, Unless that we are all in all For all eternity ! All love is sweet ! then let me see It smiling trom your eyes, For love is all the world to me If wearing no disguise ! And let me search your heart and find, Deep, deep within its core, A perfect, steadfast love enshrined, To live for evermore. All love is sweet! and yet how small Is love to you and me, Unless that we are all in all For all eternity ! 259 God Bless You. A CHRISTMAS SONG. THE hour is passed. Hark ! hark! the midnight chime I Across the frozen snow the bells are ringing" The Spirit of Goodwill, this Christmas time, Toward the slumb'ring world its flight is winging-. Awake ! and hear the message that it brings Blest is the heart that in the gift rejoices 'Tis wafted down to earth by angel wings, And chanted by a host of angel voices ! Arise, and walk in peace this sainted day, And if your foes with unkind words oppress you. Be Christ-like, and forgive, be quick to say God bless you. 'Tis Peace, Goodwill, and Charity, and Love These are the angel-gifts to mortals given, And this the message sent us from above To echo back across the plains of heaven. Rejoice ! rejoice ! all people of the earth, And let your songs be songs of peace and gladness, That drifting friends may know a friendship's worth, While Love's warm rays disperse the clouds of sadness ! And in your homes let kind hearts rule the day. Dear loved ones there are waiting to caress you, Then kiss them all, and teach each one to say God bless you. 260 My Own. How shall I seek to win thee, dearest heart ? How shall I best love's fondest wish obey ? The light of day in shadow will depart, And darkness come to steal my love away ! But as the waters mingle as they meet, So love shall flow in love, and deeper seem At morn, at noon, at eve, I'll love thee, sweet, And in the hour of rest of thee I'll dream. And I will pray, and this my pray'r shall be : That love may be as sweet when years have flown, That I may know no life apart from thee, My love alone, my dearest heart, my own. 'Tis not enough, -such fleeting love as this ! To sigh, and then to faint with trembling breath ; To live but in the passion of a kiss, And then to die, and fade away in death ! But when- we pass beyond the crystal sea, I then would meet thee in the realms above, And pleading with my Lord on bended knee, The guerdon I would ask should be thy love. So I will pray, and this my pray'r shall be : That when our souls to fairer lands have flown, Then shalt thou be, for all eternity, My love alone, my dearest heart, my own. 26 1 The Cobbler. THP: cobbler sits at his bench all day, With a rap, rap, rap, And a tap, tap, tap, And merry and blithe is his song- alway, Like a man who lives for pleasure ! But whenever he feels his spirits sink. Whether right or wrong he does not think, But he goes to the inn, and he takes a drink From a full and brimming measure. And his rap, rap, rap, And his tap, tap, tap, Is done when the day is ending, And the merry, merry wight, Though he breaks at night, To-morrow will again be mending. The parson calls at his shop to pray, But a rap, rap, rap, And a tap, tap, tap, Is all that the cobbler has to say, Not a rap for sermons caring ! But across to the inn does he cast his eye, For talking, he says, always makes him dry, And he gives to the parson this quaint reply,. My sole I am oft repairing. And his rap, rap, rap, And his tap, tap, tap, Is done when the day is ending-, And the merry, merry wight, Though he breaks at night, To-morrow will again be mending. 262 A Crown of Thorns. DIM was the light in a faded room, For shadows were resting" there, Showing but faintly, in deep'ning gloom, A maiden so young and fair ! Sat she alone with an aching head, And eyes that were wet with tears, Mourning the loss of a love now dead, And weeping for after years. Turning her steps to that heav'n above, From paths where her feet had trod, Laying her heart at the shrine of love, But leaving her soul with God. Love in the summer had sped his dart, And life was a golden dream ; Glad was the song that had touched her hearf, For love was the reigning theme. Promise it gave of an after day, For hope and belief were strong ; Love, though, too quickly had passed away, And sorrow had hush'd the song. Sitting alone with her heart's sad pain, In shadowy robe arrayed, Wearing the Crown with its sinless stain, The sin of a love betrayed. Mercy, O my Lord and King, With all my sins I come to Thee : Simply to Thy Cross I cling, O God, be merciful to me. 263 The Mandoline Player. HE stroll'd through the town in the eventide, And sang- in each silent street; His bearing was tall, with a touch of pride, His voice was so rare and sweet. He plaintively touch'd his mandoline string, And sang of a love's unrest, The song that I loved so to hear him sing, The song that he loved the best. Nearest, and dearest, love of my heart, Lonely I wander, ever apart ; Cold is the world, love, weary the pain, Waiting, belov'd one, to see thee again. His story was told in the town next day, As how, in the bygone years, The one who was dearest had passed away, And pleasure had turned to tears ; And when, in the night, his voice again rang, I knew of his heart's unrest, And better I loved his song as he sang Of her whom he'd loved the best. Nearest, and dearest, love of my heart, Lonely I wander, ever apart ; Cold is the world, love, weary the pain, Waiting, belov'd one, to see thee again. 'Twas whispered abroad, and the people wept, Next day as the evening wore, To hear that the singer and song both slept, To waken on earth no more ; His mandoline lay with a broken string, But he, with his soul's unrest, 264 Had gone, with the song that he used to sing, To her whom he'd loved the best. Nearest, and dearest, love of my heart. Lonely I wander, ever apart ; Cold is the world, love, weary the pain, Waiting, belov'd one, to see thee^again. 265 The King of Kings. THE clouds are dark above the holy city, And One is passing- through the crowded streets, Whose heart is sad, whose eyes are filled with pity, As, looking 'round, no loving gaze He meets ! Reviled and scorned, He wanders on so slowly, With fait' ring step, and heavy laden, too, And as He passes by with mien so lowly, The people jeer, not knowing what they do. Of lowly birth, and yet they there behold Him Far greater than the Kings of fairest lands ! Bring forth the crown, with purple robe enfold Him, For monarchs all shall brook His least commands ! With cruel taunt the people bow before Him, No royal crown of gold His brow adorns. Yet, evermore, all nations shall adore Him, Whose earthly crown is but a crown of thorns. All hail ! all hail ! the King of Kings, For peace, and love, and joy He brings I Let heav'n and earth His name adore, And crown Him Lord for evermore. 266 What Somebody Did. SOMEBODY watch'd for somebody's coming', Somebody whisper'd somebody's name, Somebody's thoughts were absently roaming, Somebody blush'd when somebody came. But it is a secret I ought not to tell, Yet if I reveal it keep and guard it well, For it may not matter if I speak it low, Yet it is a secret you ought not to know. Somebody's thoughts still absently wander'd, Somebody knew what somebody sought, Somebody loves me somebody ponder'd, Yes, that is just what somebody thought. Somebody's heart with love was o'erflowing, Somebody's eyes look'd tender and true, Somebody's love to somebody showing, Somebody guess'd what somebody knew. But it is a secret I ought not to tell, Yet if I reveal it keep and guard it well, For it may not matter if I speak it low, Yet it is a secret you ought not to know. Somebody heard when somebody pleaded, Somebody's cheeks were burning and red. Somebody's "yes" was all that was needed. And that is just what somebody said. Somebody play'd with somebody's tresses, Somebody's eyes would somebody's meet, Somebody smiled at loving caresses, Somebody's lips look'd temptingly sweet. But it is a secret I ought not to tell, Yet if I reveal it keep and guard it well, For it may not matter if I speak it low, Yet it is a secret you ought not to know. 267 Somebody thought, would somebody steal it ! Somebody would if somebody bid, Somebody kiss'd ! hush, do not reveal it, But that is just what somebody did. 268 When the Heart is Young. THE fields are bespangled with flowers gay, And the noon-day sun is high, And laughter is heard whilst the children play As the moments swiftly fly. Oh, fair is the summer of youth's bright hours, And the bells are gladly rung, And sweet is the scent of the perfumed flow'rs When the heart is young. But drear is the night when the sun hath set, And the clouds are gath'ring o'er, And sad is the heart that would fain .forget All the golden days of yore, For dark are the hours when the tears are shed, And the bell is sadly toll'd, And faint are the flow'rs, lying sere and dead, When the heart is old. Oh, grey is the mist in the winter sky, And the hills are crowned with white, And slowly the river is winding by To the dark and solemn night. The bells ring adieu to a world of strife, And the winter night is chill, And flow'rs, that were dead, come again to life When the heart is still. 269 Buttercup and Daisy. A BUTTERCUP grew in a meadow sweet, And danced in the summer breeze, Or languidly dozed when the noon-day heat Spread over the slumbering trees. A shy little daisy grew deep in the grass, So sweet in its innocent pride, Contented if only for ever to pass Its days at the buttercup's side. A secret was breathed to the evening air, And whisper'd across the lea, That the buttercup tall loved the daisy fair, And soon would they wedded be. The echoes had answer'd the last good-night, The birds were asleep in the nest, And the moon looked down with its silvery light On a world that had sunk to rest. The buttercup lower'd its golden head, A watch o'er the daisy to keep, While zephyrs stole softly around their bed, And rocked them together to sleep. And the harebells rang with a ding, dong, ding. And tinkled it over the green, That the buttercup tall was the daisy's king", And she was the buttercup's queen. The night passed away and the morning was fair, The birds sang a glad refrain, And the flowers awakened and scented the air. And danced in the breezes again. And children went there in the meadow to play, With hearts that were merry and light, 270 And gather' d a posy of flowers so gay Of yellow, of pink, and of white, And one little'hand to the buttercup roved, And the daisy that grew at its side, And as they together had lived and loved, Together they droop'd and died. Best of All. Do you love me best and dearest, As you once did long- ago ? Am I still to you the nearest ? Will you always love me so ? From the past, so fraught with pleasure, Sweetest moments I recall Other loves my heart may treasure, But I love you best of all. Do you love me then, the dearest, As you once did long ago ? Am I still to you the nearest . J Will you always love me so ? Let me for a moment hold you With your head upon my breast, And whilst loving arms enfold you Be at rest, love, be at rest ; For in moments, such as this is, When each heart is held in thrall. And the ransom is love's kisses, So I love you best of all. Do you love me then, the dearest, As you once did long ago ? Am I still to you the nearest ? Will you always love me so ? 272 Sweetheart and I. THE shadows have gathered around my heart As clouds o'er a winterly sky, And cold is the world as we wander apart, My dear little sweetheart and I. My sun hath dipped low in its western isle, And night hath o'er-shadow'd my day, Then come back to me with the old sweet smile, And chase all the shadows away. Hasten then, oh, my dearie, Come back again to me, Sad is my heart and weary, Waiting so long for thee. Oh, fair be the morning when love shall be, And glad be the theme of its song, And sweet be the message that cometh to me Though weary the waiting and long ; For dark are the clouds in the heavens above, And shadows still lingering fall, Then come back to me with the old sweet love, And smilingly banish them all. Hasten then, oh, my dearie, Come back again to me, Sad is my heart and weary, Waiting so long for thee. 273 The Prayer. ALONE, unloved, she sought to rest, In grief had passed her years ; No loving hand that once caress'd, Nor smile was there to stay her tears. No kindly heart her grief to share, Or lead when footsteps strayed, She only knew a dark despair That left her soul in gloom arrayed. So frail, and so forlorn, she could but weep, And pray ere closed her eyes in sleep :