LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 
 
 HN LASCELLES
 
 Extracts from some Press Notices of 
 
 X. Y. Z. and other Poems, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN LASCELLES. 
 
 "... Mr. Lascelles indicates with singular, it might 
 almost be said mordant, power suggestions of the dismal side of 
 the relations of the sexes. These gloomy and powerful things 
 stand out as singular and conspicuous evidence of Mr. Lascelles's 
 insight." — Brighton Herald. 
 
 "... The poems are well worth attentive perusal, 
 even if the reader be cast into the abyss of despair. Altogether 
 a most remarkable book." — Whitehall Review. 
 
 "... Very remarkable for their strength and origin- 
 ality. They are sometimes even startling." — Author. 
 
 The Leadenhall Press, Ltd : 
 50, Leadenhall Street, London, E.C.
 
 THE 
 
 pa ma 
 
 AND 
 
 Other Poems 
 
 by 
 JOHN LASCELLES. 
 
 £i$t <xnb fcarltneee; 300& an& et?tf ; 
 £0roug0 fife's majee run! 
 ©n tnan'e paf#n>ap crawfe f#e eerpenf; 
 ^>6tnC6 t$l rtetng eun! 
 
 LONDON : PUBLISHED BY 
 
 The Leadenhall Prefs, Ltd : 50, Leadenhall Street, E.C. 
 
 Simpkin, <£Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd : 
 
 0\ew York : Charles Scribners Sons, 153-157, Fifth tAvenue.
 
 printed at 
 
 The Leadenhall Press, Ltd: 
 
 50, leadenhall street, London, e.c. 
 
 t 4,692. 
 
 Pi
 
 T1{6F^4C6. 
 
 9 
 
 9 HE Great Drama is not intended to 
 be a complete work. To have made 
 it complete would have involved cover- 
 ing the whole field of human action. It is 
 intended to be a suggestive fragment, indi- 
 cating a mode of thought and feeling as to 
 the unseen universe ; together with a few 
 typical scenes from the life of the world.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 m/vVVVVn. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Great Drama — 
 
 The Audience ... ... ... ... i 
 
 The Overture ... ... ... 5 
 
 Kings and Courtiers ... ... ... 7 
 
 Democrats and Voters ... ... 10 
 
 Gold and Paint ... ... ... 17 
 
 The City Waif ... ... ... 22 
 
 Shifting Scenes ... ... ... 30 
 
 Men and Nature ... ... ... 33 
 
 The Baffled Agitator ... ... —34 
 
 Igdrasil ... ... ... ... ... 41 
 
 Raising the May-Pole ... ... ... 43 
 
 A Dream with no Awaking ... ... 56 
 
 New Year's Eve .., ... ... ... 59 
 
 The Children are away ... ... ... 61 
 
 Mother and Child ... ... ... ... 63 
 
 Old Letters ... ... ... ... 65 
 
 O for one look! ... ... ... ... 67 
 
 Voices of the Past ... ... ... 68 
 
 The Old Chief ... ... ... ... 70
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 The Great Drama. 
 
 The Audience. 
 
 OPEN the eyes of soul, and, undismayed 
 By fleshly fear, look wonderingly through 
 Rifts in the veil of sense that wraps men 
 round 
 Like a cold mist, and from their earthbound view 
 Shuts out awhile the world where spirits dwell. 
 
 The etherous vault of Heaven is full of eves 
 Of dwellers in a universe unseen, 
 That ever wakeful, through the thin disguise 
 Of time's stage properties, with interest watch 
 Life's tragi-comic play, from age to age, 
 
 B
 
 2 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 By human actors played, in varied parts 
 And characters, upon earth's little stage. 
 
 God, throned upon the universe with sight 
 
 Of all pervading power, looks at the play 
 
 In which men masquerade, — but not to Him ; 
 
 Before His eyes their animated clay, 
 
 And all the robes in which they dress themselves 
 
 As kings and peers and strut about in pride, 
 
 Are but the husks of spirits like Himself, 
 
 That from the sight of earthbound mortals hide 
 
 Life's great realities. 
 
 At His right hand, 
 In glorified humanity, there stands 
 The, sometime, "Son of Man," exalted now 
 With eyes Divine, unbound by fleshly bands, 
 To watch with human sympathy the stage 
 On which He played His own heroic part 
 Of duty and Self sacrifice : — on which 
 His brother players pierced His pitying heart. 
 
 Great hosts of angels round the throne of God, 
 In robes no looms of earth could ever weave, 
 Stand in their glistening ranks, like, yet unlike,
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 3 
 
 The souls of men that time's wrecked bodies leave. 
 Their eyes, like stars invisible, look down 
 From seeming wastes of silence and of death ; 
 With kindly sympathy they watch the stage 
 Of purblind players breathing mortal breath. 
 
 Souls of the earth-born, 
 Spirits once way worn, 
 Souls once battle torn, 
 Watch from serene air 
 The tinsel and glare, 
 The joy and despair, 
 The laughter and tears, 
 The hopes and the fears, 
 The hisses and cheers, 
 The lures and the lies, 
 The sorrows and sighs, 
 The passionate cries, 
 The strifes and debates, 
 The loves and the hates, 
 The frets and the fates, 
 The blessings and banes, 
 The pleasures and pains, 
 
 That in hearts and brains 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Kindle or assuage 
 Men's madness and rage, 
 On the old earth stage, 
 Midst tumult and strife, 
 And wild passions rife 
 In the play of life. 
 
 Mingling with the earth-born watchers, 
 
 Great satanic hosts — 
 
 Weird, strange, malignant faces 
 
 In the throng of ghosts. 
 
 On the stage amongst the players, 
 
 Whispering in their ears, 
 
 Devils, with fair semblances, 
 
 Mask malignant leers.
 
 The Great Drama. 
 
 The Overture. 
 
 HARK ! ears of soul — an overture. 
 Hear in its sonorous flood, 
 Women's tears, like rain drops falling, 
 And the dropping of the blood 
 Of war-murdered men. 
 
 In a fugue comes rippling laughter 
 Of the boys and girls at play, 
 As they lave their feet in ocean, 
 And he sprinkles them with spray, 
 Flashing in the sun. 
 
 Hoarse, harsh sounds of revolution 
 Herald freedom's jubilee,
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Followed swift by battle thunders 
 Sounding over land and sea, 
 Winged with pain and death. 
 
 Now the music softly sinking 
 Breathes in low and tender tones ; 
 In their hearts the youths and maidens 
 Each the god of love enthrones, 
 
 Full of life and hope. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The music sighs, 
 
 As it sinks and dies : — 
 
 The overture is done.
 
 The Great Drama, 
 
 Kings and Courtiers. 
 
 OW let us see the pantomime, 
 Ring up the curtain ! — ring ! 
 Before us walks in royal state 
 A crowned and sceptred king. 
 
 N 
 
 A grovelling people bow and cringe 
 Before a gilded throne, 
 A robe, a crown, a sceptre, set 
 With bits of sparkling stone. 
 
 They work to keep his majesty 
 In idleness and vice ; 
 To find him cash for wantonness 
 And gluttony and dice.
 
 8 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 His majesty must be amused ; 
 The game of war will play ; 
 His people to his standards flock 
 To throw their lives away. 
 
 His soldiers in the hard campaign 
 Face bullets and disease ; 
 He takes the glory, safe at home 
 In luxury and ease. 
 
 The king has a besetting sin, — 
 Is on the road to Hell : 
 His courtiers with compliant feet 
 Walk on that road as well. 
 
 The king must wear a hideous stock 
 To hide an ugly scar : 
 His subjects soon adopt it too 
 And wear it near and far. 
 
 The king has caught a malady, — 
 His majesty is lame : 
 His courtiers keep him company 
 And, limping, go the same.
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA, 
 
 Thus on the shifting stage of life, 
 In folly's many shapes, 
 Men work industriously to prove 
 Their ancestors were apes. 
 
 And as the pantomime goes on, 
 The devils laugh to see 
 Men acting, with wide open eyes, 
 Such ghastly comedy.
 
 The Great Drama. 
 
 Democrats and Voters* 
 
 A DEMOCRATIC minister sits in official 
 state ; 
 Big with official dignity, you would not 
 know the late 
 Plain Mister Dash, who, keen for votes in your 
 
 provincial town, 
 Some years ago, as candidate, went cringing up 
 
 and down. 
 A deputation waits on him to plead for infant 
 
 lives, 
 Against foul murderous torturings at which the 
 state connives. 
 
 Spokesman of Deputation. 
 
 We come to plead the cause of babies done to 
 death
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. I I 
 
 By tortures so prolonged, that making them draw 
 
 breath 
 For such slow, lingering pains, was foul and 
 
 devilish crime ; 
 
 Minister. 
 
 Come to the point at once ; remember that my 
 
 time 
 Is precious to the State. Give me some evidence — 
 Make out a cogent case — or else to Providence 
 These babies I must leave. 
 
 Spokesman of Deputation. 
 
 There is a murderous trade — 
 
 Minister. 
 
 Your proofs : I must have proofs : do not the 
 
 point evade. 
 A deputation waits below : they come to me 
 To ask if I will set some Irish murderers free : 
 Impatient of delay, I hear their shuffling feet : 
 I dare not anger them : — we might lose many a 
 
 seat.
 
 12 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Spokesman of Deputation. 
 
 Then hear what I have seen. A spinster mother 
 brought 
 
 Her poor unwanted child, well dressed in robes, 
 
 she thought, 
 In an adopting home, would keep it from the cold. 
 With tears she handed it, together with some gold, 
 To one who met the train by which she came to 
 
 where 
 I saw what I relate ; — a woman with the air 
 
 Of a kind tradesman's wife. This woman took 
 
 the child 
 And kissed and fondled it. The spinster mother, 
 
 wild 
 With grief, then turned away, her eyes still 
 
 raining tears. 
 
 I watched to see the end with heart foreboding 
 fears 
 
 For what might be the fate of that unwanted life. 
 The mother's back was turned : this seeming 
 tradesman's wife, 
 
 Stripped off the costly clothes that mother's love 
 had made,
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. I 3 
 
 And wrapt the child in rags. Her partner in 
 
 the trade 
 Of baby murdering came and took the child away, 
 In hands that looked like claws of a fierce beast 
 
 of prey. 
 
 Minister. 
 
 Be short if you have more that you would like 
 
 to tell : 
 The Irishmen below, impatient, wait my bell. 
 
 Spokesman of Deputation. 
 
 I followed that fierce fiend, and then I saw a sight 
 To fill with anguished dreams the watches of the 
 
 night : 
 To haunt with torturing woe, all dav, the waking 
 
 brain ; 
 And make the blood to boil of any man humane. 
 I saw a slaughter-house, where helpless babes 
 
 were killed 
 By one in slow degrees of murderous torturings 
 
 skilled. 
 Without a spark of fire, on a December day,
 
 14 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Upon a brick paved floor, six helpless infants lay 
 
 In misery and woe, to suffer and to pine 
 
 With hunger, in their filth, like long-neglected 
 
 swine. 
 Their various shrunken limbs, blue with the biting 
 
 cold, 
 The progress of the work of death by stages told. 
 Poor famished infants lay in this foul torture den, 
 
 With almost fleshless bones, and faces like old 
 
 men. 
 One, near death's kind release, its flesh all vermin 
 
 scored, 
 Was in a laudanumed sleep, and stertorously 
 
 snored : 
 And one poor innocent still sought its mother's 
 
 breast ; — 
 With pale and working lips it made its piteous 
 
 quest. 
 
 Minister. 
 
 This truly dreadful case your stalking-horse 
 
 must be, 
 To draw men's surplus cash to your Society.
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 1 5 
 
 Several Members of the Deputation Together. 
 
 No ! no ! we wish it was an isolated case : 
 The baby-slaughtering trade both thrives and 
 grows apace. 
 
 Member of Deputation. 
 
 The risk is small ; the trade almost the law 
 
 confounds ; 
 The baby slaughterer's fee is five to fifty pounds. 
 
 Minister — His hand on his bell. 
 
 You wish me to bring in a Baby Farmer's Bill : 
 The case is sad enough : — and you have my good 
 
 will : 
 But babies have no votes : the Irishmen below — 
 
 i 
 
 Another Member of Deputation. 
 
 One moment more : we have some evidence to 
 
 show 
 That child insurance oft means murder to the 
 
 child.
 
 1 6 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Minister — Ringing his bell. 
 
 You must no longer stay. The Irish will be wild ! 
 You have my sympathy : — I pigeon hole my notes 
 Of all that you have said : — but — babies have no 
 votes. 
 
 The saints looked up to God, and pitying Jesus 
 
 wept, 
 His heart suffused with love that neither waned 
 
 nor slept : 
 From His bright home amidst the universe of 
 
 spheres, 
 Hot on my heart I felt the falling of his tears.
 
 The Great Drama. 
 
 Gold and Paint. 
 Scene I. 
 
 THE BANQUET. 
 
 A DINNER given to Dives, 
 Financier and rising M.P. ; 
 Philanthropist— in an arm chair- 
 Good works done by deputy. 
 
 Friend of virtuous matrons ; 
 A great matrimonial catch ; 
 For best and purest of daughters 
 An unimpeachable match. 
 
 Successful ; envied by men ; 
 
 The women's stock pattern for vouth ; 
 
 A safe and respectable man ; 
 
 11 The soul of honour and truth." 
 
 c
 
 1 8 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Table laid to perfection : 
 
 The best of good viands and wine, 
 
 Fit for a festive occasion 
 
 When peers with plutocrats dine. 
 
 List of conventional toasts : 
 Now the Queen ; the Commons ; the Lords ; 
 The Army ; the Navy ; the Press ; — 
 Each a stock topic affords. 
 
 The Church is recognized too, 
 With a kind condescending bow, 
 As a harmless poor relation 
 Whose claims they please to allow. 
 
 Toasts of routine are ended 
 And the diners have drunk to each : 
 The guest of the evening is given : — 
 A eulogistical speech. 
 
 Dives rises to thank them : 
 Applause makes the rafters to ring : 
 Professes himself unworthy : — 
 The usual sort of thing.
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 1 9 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 THE STREET. 
 
 As Dives walks home from the dinner 
 Enjoying the cool of the night, 
 In a state of full swinish content 
 And flattered self-conscious delight, 
 
 The wreck of a woman accosts him : 
 Her face like a painted Death's head : 
 With the hacking cough of consumption 
 Still forced to the streets for her bread. 
 
 Eyes sunken, but brilliant like meteors : 
 Soul lights looking out of the wreck 
 That, abandoned, drifts to destruction 
 With no guiding hand on the deck. 
 
 "Ah ! Charley, old man, well I know you! 
 O ! of course vou do not know me, 
 Tho' often you called me your darling, 
 And dandled me oft on your knee. 
 
 C2
 
 20 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Just give me a trifle, old fellow, 
 That I may go home for to-night : 
 I'm only the thing that you made me : — 
 You need not start back in a fright ! 
 
 Just a trifle, old man, it's no more, 
 Than you owe the wreck that you made 
 When with fondling and lies you deceived 
 The girl you but sought to degrade. 
 
 In those days how dearly I loved you — 
 The passionate love of my life — 
 And, Charley, you know you deceived me : — 
 You promised to make me your wife. 
 
 Just a trifle, that I may go home 
 
 And sleep for awhile, and forget 
 
 That I am the thing that you made me: — 
 
 A trifle you could not regret. 
 
 You refuse, you damned scoundrel, to know 
 The poor girl you crushed and destroyed ;
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 21 
 
 Who from father and mother and home 
 With lies you so basely decoyed.'' 
 
 ^T H* *1* *F *P 
 
 Wild raging, blaspheming, and cursing : 
 A policeman's appoaching tread : — 
 The outcast is dragged off to prison, 
 And Dives goes home : — and to bed. 
 
 When the policeman touched his hat, 
 
 Saluting vice in gold ; 
 
 While vice in paint, he dragged away 
 
 With insults coarse and bold ; 
 
 The devils laughed a scoffing laugh 
 
 To see triumphant wrong, 
 
 And all the saints cried out to God, 
 
 How long ? O Lord ! How long ?
 
 The Great Drama. 
 
 The City Waif. 
 Scene I. 
 
 THE DAISY CHAIN. 
 
 ~"HHE scene has shifted, and a little child 
 Plays in a meadow, bright with summer 
 flowers, 
 The dreamy sunshine of an afternoon 
 Smiles on the world : with all the hidden powers 
 Of Heaven and earth at peace, she deftly weaves 
 A daisy chain and as she weaves she sings, 
 Like a wild bird spontaneously, her song — 
 
 ' Daisies with your golden eyes 
 Fringed with white and red, 
 How I wonder where you come from, 
 How you all are fed.
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 23 
 
 Daisies, do you eat the sunshine ? 
 Daisies, do you drink the dew 
 When the magic touch of morning 
 Makes the world anew ? 
 
 Daisies, where were you last winter 
 When the snow was all about, 
 And Jack Frost to nip our noses 
 Watched if we went out ? 
 
 Were you dead or only sleeping 
 Underneath the frozen ground, 
 While the trees all sad and leafless 
 Stood in tears around ? 
 
 Were you dead or only sleeping, 
 Till God kissed you all and said 
 ' Waken, waken little daisies, — 
 Winter now has fled ' ? 
 
 Daisies with your golden eyes 
 Fringed with white and red, 
 How I wonder where you come from 
 How you all are fed."
 
 24 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 THE OPEN GRAVE. 
 
 A cold, damp, dull November day : 
 A village Church : an open grave 
 Yawns to receive humanitv's decav, 
 And what decay portends. 
 
 The child who made her daisy chain 
 
 And sang amidst the sunlit flowers, 
 
 Stands near that grave, half wonder and half pain 
 
 Upon her tearful face. 
 
 Father and child, chief mourners stand ; 
 And as the Church's ancient prayers 
 Of Christian hope are said, her little hand 
 Convulsively grasps his ; 
 
 And when with sad and downcast eyes 
 
 They turn away and leave in earth 
 
 Her mother's form, the child's heart-piercing cries 
 
 Bring tears from aged men.
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 25 
 
 " Mother ! Mother ! Mother ! 
 
 Wake and come with us, 
 
 To kiss your little girl 
 
 And hear her say her prayers 
 
 Before she goes to bed ; 
 
 Mother dear come home ! 
 
 Mother ! Mother ! Mother ! 
 
 I will wait for vou : 
 
 Wake Mother dear and come ! 
 
 O do not stay behind ! 
 
 O do not be unkind ! 
 
 Mother dear come home ! " 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 THE CITY HOME. 
 
 A grimy, murky town: a low, vice -haunted 
 
 street : 
 A wet and shivering child with cold and naked 
 
 feet 
 Enters a squalid room she, trembling, calls her 
 
 home.
 
 26 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 Unkempt and thinly clad, her pale face pinched 
 
 with pain ; — 
 How marred and changed the child who made 
 
 her daisy chain 
 And sang her happy song amidst the meadow 
 
 flowers. 
 
 Her father takes the pence her sad and pleading 
 
 eyes 
 Of haunting beauty, from the soul that purifies 
 The flesh it soon will leave, drew from the 
 
 passers by. 
 
 He strikes her with his belt because she brought 
 
 no more, 
 And kicks her as she writhes in pain upon the 
 
 floor, 
 Calling in piteous tones upon her Mother dead. 
 
 His house companion now, an evil woman, laughs. 
 They lock the door, and go to wallow in their 
 
 slough 
 Of low and sensual vice ; — the child is left alone. 
 
 # * *
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 2J 
 
 * 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 RELEASE. 
 
 Exposure, hunger, cold, will soon have brought 
 
 release 
 From earthly pain, in that calm everlasting peace 
 That men call death, and fear as children fear 
 
 the dark. 
 
 The people of the town go on their heedless way 
 Of pleasure, greed, and gain, from selfish day to day, 
 Nor think of what thin walls hide from them as 
 they pass. 
 
 With only God to hear her low, sad, moaning cry ; 
 Neglected and alone the child is left to die, 
 Parched with the fever thirst, upon her bed of 
 rags. 
 
 God's angel hovers near : the fluttering of his 
 
 wings 
 Wakes her from out a swoon : she, half delirious, 
 
 sings 
 A hymn her Mother taught one peaceful Sabbath 
 
 dav
 
 28 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 In spring, when in her loving little hand she 
 
 brought 
 A bunch of early flowers and said, in childish 
 
 thought, 
 Hard gazing at the sky, that Heaven must be like 
 
 home. 
 
 " Heaven is home made beautiful 
 By an eternal light 
 That shines from the face of God ; 
 In Heaven there is no night. 
 
 Heaven is home made shadowless ; 
 The faces that are dear, 
 With loving looks upon them, 
 In Heaven are always near. 
 
 In Heaven there are no partings ; 
 When loved ones meet again 
 In Heaven, their lives are deathless ; 
 In Heaven there is no pain. 
 
 In Heaven there are no sorrows, 
 No heart foreboding fears, 
 That shadow earth's enjoyments ; 
 In Heaven there are no tears.
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 20, 
 
 In Heaven is no unkindness, 
 No doubting, and no care ; 
 In Heaven God reigns triumphant, 
 And love is always there." 
 
 The leering devils looked 
 In mockery at the saints ; 
 The saints at God, their eyes 
 Full of heart-searching plaints 
 That He delayed the reign 
 Of universal good ; 
 Of love ; of kindness ; and 
 Of Christian brotherhood. 
 
 But God looked calmly from 
 His time-abiding throne ; 
 Mute as a sculptured sphinx, 
 Cut in Egyptian stone.
 
 The Great Drama. 
 
 Shifting Scenes. 
 
 i. 
 
 A RICH " philanthropist" 
 Gives public parks : and sly 
 Gifts to a party fund, — 
 A peerage in his eye. 
 
 II. 
 
 A Minister of State : — 
 The vulgar crowd admires 
 The puppet in the show, 
 Nor sees, behind, the wires.
 
 THE GREAT DRAMA. 3 1 
 
 III. 
 
 A scheming mother sells 
 Her daughter, fresh from school. 
 As life degraded slave 
 To a vice-tainted fool. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A labourer sees the squire : 
 A favour has to beg : 
 Salutes a hat and coat 
 Upon a human peg. 
 
 v. 
 
 A man of grit and worth, 
 Too truthful to pretend, 
 His fellow-men dislike : — 
 Call "a cold-hearted friend." 
 
 From scene to scene the pantomime 
 Is played from age to age 
 By spirits, walking visible, 
 Upon the worldly stage ;
 
 32 THE GREAT DRAMA. 
 
 So hoodwinked by stage properties, 
 And tinselled robes, and flams, 
 They think their plays realities ; 
 Realities but shams : 
 
 While spirit hosts, invisible, 
 With vision true and keen, 
 Earth's serio-comic tragedy 
 Watch from the world unseen ; 
 
 
 And see, beneath the stage glamour, 
 The secret motive springs 
 That rule the hearts, and shape the lives, 
 Of peasants and of kings. 
 
 I 

 
 Men and Nature. 
 
 "^HE sun had sunk to rest, 
 And, as he went below, 
 He left above the hills 
 A glorious after-glow : 
 
 The skv was clear of clouds, 
 The atmosphere serene ; 
 Yet one who watched the sight, 
 Some clouds would fain have seen 
 
 In earth, and air, and sky, 
 One music seemed to be : — 
 How often men would mar 
 Great nature's harmony !
 
 The Baffled Agitator, 
 
 Agitator. 
 
 YOUR life is deadly dull my friend, 
 Just working for your bread 
 In one routine of drudgery 
 Until you go to bed. 
 I wonder, now you have a vote 
 Your manhood to inspire, 
 How you can longer tolerate 
 The parson and the squire. 
 It must so much degrade a man 
 To truckle as you do ; 
 Must make it hard for him to keep 
 His manhood staunch and true.
 
 THE BAFFLED AGITATOR. 35 
 
 Villager. 
 
 It's very kind of you to say 
 
 I ought to go to school ; 
 
 To show vou think a man like me 
 
 A blockhead and a fool. 
 
 Mine may be dull and drudging work 
 
 But, Sir, I've heard it said 
 
 A man 's a friend to all mankind 
 
 Who makes the ground yield bread. 
 
 I have my little cottage home ; 
 
 I have my garden plot 
 
 Where I can spend a bit of time 
 
 To help to boil my pot. 
 
 I like to watch my taters grow, 
 
 My good wife at my side ; 
 
 And, then, I grow a flower or two : 
 
 My garden is my pride. 
 
 I have a pig in yonder stv ; 
 
 Hens in the loft above : 
 
 It might be dull for such as you, 
 
 But country life I love. 
 
 And when the boys and girls come home, 
 
 Who now are out at place, 
 
 D 2
 
 3 6 THE BAFFLED AGITATOR. 
 
 They'll help to pay the squire his rent ; 
 
 I hold it no disgrace 
 
 To take a bit of help from them ; 
 
 They earn good wages now, 
 
 And in a year or two we may, 
 
 Amongst us, raise a cow. 
 
 Perhaps than some amongst my mates 
 
 I'm better off you think : 
 
 I burn a bit of bacca, but 
 
 I always keep from drink. 
 
 It's very kind of you to come 
 
 And say my life is dull : 
 
 You'll have to make long days to drive 
 
 That bunkum through my skull. 
 
 My life may be most deadly dull 
 
 And I may be a lout 
 
 But, mister agitating man, 
 
 I never found it out. 
 
 It's very kind of you to come 
 
 And put yourself about, 
 
 When those who have the life to live 
 
 Have never found it out.
 
 THE BAFFLED AGITATOR. 2)7 
 
 Agitator. 
 
 Well ! well ! your life may have its charms : 
 
 I sav no more of that : 
 
 But to the parson and the squire 
 
 To cringe and touch your hat 
 
 Must often fret and gall a man 
 
 Of independent mind : 
 
 It must be hard to bend your back 
 
 And always sit behind. 
 
 Villager. 
 
 I know the parsons and the squires 
 
 Better than such as you : 
 
 I've lived amongst them all my life, 
 
 And know what things they do. 
 
 They give us friendly help sometimes : 
 
 We take it as it's meant, 
 
 And feel a bit of gratitude 
 
 Of which we don't repent. 
 
 I may not be quite up to date : 
 
 That, Sir, I do not doubt : 
 
 I know our country village life 
 
 Better than some that spout.
 
 38 THE BAFFLED AGITATOR. 
 
 I back the parson and the squire : 
 
 They've been good friends to me : 
 
 I thought a man might kindness take 
 
 And keep his liberty. 
 
 The parson, many and many a time, 
 
 Has put himself about 
 
 For me and mine ; — the parson, Sir, 
 
 We could not do without. 
 
 He's there to give a bit of help 
 
 When one's in trouble like : 
 
 To give a chap a friendly pull 
 
 Who'se tumbled in a dike. 
 
 I've nothing too, against the squire, — 
 
 Likes his own way a bit, 
 
 But always kind and friendly when 
 
 He sees a chap hard hit. 
 
 I once was down with fever, Sir : 
 
 My case was very bad ; 
 
 He sent his wine to strengthen me : — 
 
 The very best he had. 
 
 And what the doctor ordered me : 
 
 He only had to say, 
 
 And from the Hall it surely came 
 
 The very self-same day.
 
 THE BAFFLED AGITATOR. 39 
 
 I thought he only acted out 
 
 Our Saviour Christ's decree : 
 
 But may be, Sir, you set no store 
 
 By Christianity. 
 
 This may be degradation, Sir, 
 
 And I may be a lout 
 
 But, mister agitating man, 
 
 I never found it out. 
 
 It's very kind of you to come 
 
 And put yourself about, 
 
 When those who have the life to live 
 
 Have never found it out. 
 
 Agitator. 
 
 Why man ! yours is a hopeless case : 
 You ought to read and think : 
 You and your mates much need to see 
 A little printer's ink. 
 
 Villager. 
 
 We have our little reading-room 
 Where I can smoke my pipe : 
 We read the papers, and we see 
 Some curious things in type.
 
 40 THE BAFFLED AGITATOR. 
 
 We read we are down-trodden slaves, 
 
 And then we have our laugh : 
 
 We may be asses, but we know 
 
 A bit of corn from chaff. 
 
 We may be a down-trodden lot, 
 
 And I may be a slave : 
 
 It's very kind of you to want 
 
 To make me bold and brave. 
 
 I always thought an honest man 
 
 Who worked to earn his bread 
 
 Was one of nature's noblemen, 
 
 Whatever some folks said. 
 
 We may be poor down-trodden slaves, 
 
 And I may be a lout 
 
 But, mister agitating man, 
 
 I never found it out. 
 
 It's very kind of you to come 
 
 And put yourself about 
 
 When men who have the life to live 
 
 Have never found it out.
 
 Igdrasil. 
 
 i. 
 
 DEEP in earth strike the roots 
 Of God's Igdrasil tree ; 
 Down amidst dead men's bones 
 Where worms hold revelrv : — 
 
 J 
 
 Ghouls in graves of the past, 
 Down from the light of day, 
 Its tiny rootlets creep 
 Feeding on time's decay : 
 Down where transfigured Death, 
 Sheathing the sword of strife, 
 Smiles upon nature's wrecks ; — 
 Foster father of Life. 
 
 IT, 
 
 Dance like children around 
 The great Igdrasil tree ; 
 Dance and sing while you may, 
 Hearts full of childish glee.
 
 42 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Dance like children and sing ; 
 Gather the flowers that grow 
 In the grass round its roots : 
 Seek not to look below. 
 Dance and sing while you may, 
 But, breathing mortal breath, 
 Seek not to look below : — 
 Life is feeding on Death. 
 
 in. 
 Up towards the light of Heaven 
 Grows the Igdrasil high ; 
 Up towards the light of Heaven, 
 God and eternal sky : 
 Up towards the light of Heaven 
 Point all its budding shoots ; 
 High bloom its sweetest flowers ; 
 High hang its ripening fruits. 
 Wonderful tree of life, 
 Full of mystical powers ! 
 Look up and climb who seek 
 To gather fruits and flowers.
 
 Raising the May^Pole. 
 
 TWO CYCLISTS APPROACH A VILLAGE, MOVING DOWN 
 A GENTLE SLOPE. 
 
 First Cyclist. 
 ~^\HIS village is a quite ideal spot 
 
 In which to spend the night. 
 
 Content and happiness must be the lot 
 Of those who have their home, 
 Where Nature scatters with such lavish hand, 
 Her varied beauties round. 
 Those ancient trees seem consciously to stand 
 As guardians of the place. 
 How many generations they have seen 
 Pass, and repass, beneath 
 The spreading fulness of their leafy screen, 
 As they went toiling on 
 
 Life's chequered journey till, in turn, they found 
 Their final resting place,
 
 44 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 Each underneath the little grass-grown mound 
 That God reserved for him 
 In His own acre, near the little Church 
 He and his fathers knew. 
 However Fortune left him in the lurch, 
 In life's vicissitudes, 
 
 Beneath that mound he had a sure release 
 From worldly frets and cares. 
 Near that old Church there must be rest and 
 peace. 
 
 Second Cyclist. 
 
 That blushing whiteness waving in the breeze, 
 
 Amidst the green of spring, 
 
 Must be the blossom on the apple trees 
 
 That here so much abound. 
 
 How beautiful the red-roofed houses look 
 
 Amongst the fresh young leaves. 
 
 The cattle come to water at the brook 
 
 Down in the hollow, where 
 
 That girl trips lightly on the stepping stones, 
 
 And sings some old sweet song, 
 
 That comes in snatches and in merry tones, 
 
 Straight from a bright young heart.
 
 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 45 
 
 First Cyclist. 
 As we approach, I see the village street 
 Is gay with flags and flowers : 
 The very houses seem to smile and greet 
 Us kindly as we pass, 
 
 And all the village boys and girls are dressed 
 For some festivity : 
 
 We just arrive in time ! here let us rest 
 And see a village fete. 
 
 That gabled house must be the village inn : 
 It is alive with guests : 
 That burly man whose ample double chin 
 Tells of good humoured ease, 
 Must be the host. How well he seems to suit 
 His ivy-covered porch, 
 That smiles a welcome or a kind salute 
 To every passer by. 
 
 Second Cyclist. 
 Good host, you seem alive with guests to-day 
 On some rejoicing bent : 
 Here at your pretty inn we fain would stav 
 If vou have room for us ; 
 But if your house is full, we must push on 
 Another mile or two.
 
 46 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 Host. 
 By ten o'clock these guests will all have gone 
 Away to their own homes. 
 To-night we plant our May-pole on the green, 
 And they have come to watch 
 The raising, and to see our May-day queen 
 And maidens dance around. 
 My house is yours, and you, good Sirs, are free, 
 If you are minded so, 
 To come and join in our festivity 
 And be of us to-night. 
 
 First Cyclist. 
 Your sleepy people must have missed the date 
 For May festivities. 
 
 Good host, you are just thirteen days too late : 
 They should be on May-day. 
 
 Host. 
 Perhaps we are not up to date, and yet 
 We know our own affairs : 
 I never knew the youngest child forget 
 Our May-day village feast. 
 
 First Cyclist. 
 Your May-day feast ! You must be far astray : 
 Time must move backwards here.
 
 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 47 
 
 Host. 
 Our village feast falls on the old May-day 
 When kings into the woods 
 A Maying went, with ladies, knights, and peers, 
 To crown themselves with flowers. 
 Our feast was fixed before there were leap-years : 
 It is an ancient feast. 
 
 Perhaps our fathers raised their May-poles here, 
 And Saxon gleemen sang, 
 Before the Norman conquerer came, and fear 
 Hushed all their merry songs. 
 But look, good Sirs, the western windows blaze 
 With the fast setting sun ! 
 
 Give your commands : then come and see us raise 
 Our May-pole decked with flowers. 
 
 THE VILLAGE GREEN. 
 
 Second Cyclist. 
 This is a gay and animated scene. 
 The band plays lively tunes, 
 And stalls, and swings, upon the village green, 
 Are all well patronized. 
 
 In its long length there lies the May-pole too : 
 How gay and bright it looks
 
 48 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 In its new paint of red, and white, and blue, 
 
 In broad alternate bands. 
 
 It must reach ninety feet. No single tree 
 
 Grown on our English soil 
 
 Could ever reach so far : this pole I see 
 
 Is braced with bolts and rings. 
 
 Joiner in charge of works. 
 All heart of oak, Sirs, heart of English oak ! 
 Some of the hands that felled 
 The top-most splice, with many a lusty stroke, 
 Are resting in their graves. 
 
 First Cyclist. 
 How can that be, when still I see it lie 
 In newness and new paint ? 
 
 jfoiner in charge of works. 
 At each fresh raising, nearer to the sky 
 We move the lowest length : 
 We taper it, and brace it to the new 
 With iron bolts and rings. 
 Ten days ago we to the village drew 
 The oak that is the base.
 
 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 49 
 
 Old Man. 
 
 Ah ! Sirs, it was a pretty sight to see 
 
 Our stout and strong young men, 
 
 All harnessed to the ropes, draw home that tree. 
 
 They brought it from the woods 
 
 Two miles away. Long years ago I went 
 
 To draw a May-tree home : 
 
 The father of the village now, and bent 
 
 With age, I rode upon 
 
 The May-pole oak, and feebly joined their cheers, 
 
 Holding the union flag. 
 
 Each May-pole stands for more than twenty years : 
 
 So when the next is raised, 
 
 My work of life will have been fully gauged 
 
 By God, who knows it all ; 
 
 These strong young men will then be middle aged ; 
 
 Some in their early graves. 
 
 Look gentlemen, in state upon the green 
 
 My young grand-daughter comes. 
 
 To-day she is to be our village queen : 
 
 They crown her with May flowers ; 
 
 And one by one her maids of honour come 
 
 To kneel and kiss her hand. 
 
 E
 
 50 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 The band plays ; and I seem to hear the hum 
 
 Of many voices now, 
 
 That sound far off and strange to my old ears 
 
 So deaf and dull they are. 
 
 How beautiful she looks ! That sound is cheers. — 
 
 They now will raise the pole. 
 
 Second Cyclist 
 
 This is indeed a memorable sight. 
 
 Long in our minds will live 
 
 The May queen and her maidens, dressed in 
 
 white, 
 All wreathed with fresh blue-bells 
 
 May Queen. 
 
 My loving subjects you must all to work 
 
 And our new May-pole raise. 
 
 I know no subject of his queen will shirk 
 
 His loyal duty now. 
 
 The pole is heavy, but your strength is great 
 
 If you together pull. 
 
 On men united, even adverse Fate 
 
 Will soon forget to frown.
 
 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 5 I 
 
 Some to the windlass go, and some the ropes 
 Will all together pull. 
 
 Strength, with good will united, surely copes 
 With any work or weight. 
 
 Joiner in charge of works. 
 Now boys we must obey our queen's command 
 With union and good will, 
 
 And soon our May-pole on the green will stand, 
 Its weather-cock on high. 
 
 Now pull the ropes ! You at the windlass, friends, 
 A steady even wind ; 
 
 You at the guy-ropes, as the pole ascends, 
 Pay gradually out. 
 
 First Cyclist. 
 The pole, with flag and garland at its top, 
 Is slowly rising : now 
 It leaves its last sustaining timber prop 
 And hangs awhile in air : 
 At every rope both men and women pull : 
 The pole is raised, and all 
 The workers, subjects good and dutiful, 
 Turn towards the queen and cheer : 
 
 B 2
 
 52 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 She smiles approval, and the bandsmen play 
 
 The good old national tune. 
 
 Some sturdy spadesmen hasten to obey 
 
 Her majesty's command 
 
 To fill the pit, and make the pole secure ; 
 
 That she may come beneath 
 
 To hold a court for an investiture, 
 
 And with her maidens dance. 
 
 Joiner in charge of works. 
 Most gracious queen, I humbly now report 
 Your May-pole raised ; you can 
 With safety come beneath to hold your court, 
 And lead the dance around. 
 
 May Queen. 
 Good subject we would mark this happy day : 
 Kneel down : with this blue bell 
 For sword, I strike you : — rise a knight of May. 
 God give you health and strength 
 Long to remain upon our honour roll. 
 Come maidens, let us dance 
 And, as we dance, with ribbons plait the pole. 
 Now band ! — a merry tune.
 
 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 53 
 
 Second Cyclist. 
 The moon is rising. What a pretty sight ! 
 The villagers around ; 
 
 The dancing girls ; the tender evening light ; 
 The plaiting of the pole. 
 
 First Cyclist. 
 A sight like this I never saw before : 
 A subject for day dreams, 
 It makes us richer, adding to our store 
 Of life's bright memories. 
 
 Second Cyclist. 
 They stop ! — the queen takes off her crown and 
 
 stands 
 Prepared to speak or sing, 
 Her fading flowers held in her little hands. 
 It is a pretty sight. 
 
 The May Queen sings. 
 "The greatest queen on earth 
 Has but her little day ; 
 Her crown, like mine, must fade ; 
 Her pomp must pass away :
 
 54 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 My crown of May-day flowers 
 Fades with the setting sun ; 
 My pageantry is past, 
 My queenly work is done." 
 
 Chorus of Maidens and Villagers. 
 
 "God guide and keep us all, 
 Our flocks and herds increase ; 
 Guard well our hearths and homes, 
 And give us health and peace." 
 
 The May Queen sings. 
 
 "As we have now rejoiced 
 In this our feast of flowers ; 
 When golden ears are filled 
 By summer suns and showers, 
 May we together meet 
 And all rejoice again, 
 As home, in harvest time, 
 We bring the ripened grain." 
 
 Chorus of Maidens and Villagers. 
 
 "God guide and keep us all," ^c.
 
 RAISING THE MAY-POLE. 55 
 
 The May Queen sings. 
 "Long may this May-pole stand, 
 And point us to to the sky, 
 To teach us how to live 
 Lives noble, true, and high : 
 And when in after years 
 Our children May-poles raise, 
 May they remember God 
 With gratitude and praise." 
 
 Chorus of Maidens and Villagers. 
 
 "God guide and keep us all," &te. 
 
 The May Queen sings. 
 "The memories of to-day 
 Will be a golden chain 
 To link us to our youth, 
 And make us young again. 
 Good night ! dear friends ; good night ! 
 Thanks for your loyalty : 
 Long years of May-day feasts 
 God grant you life to see." 
 
 Chorus of Maidens and Villagers. 
 
 "God guide and keep us all," &c.
 
 A Dream with no Awaking. 
 
 w 
 
 I. 
 
 HEN violets bloomed on mossy banks, 
 
 Mating birds were singing, 
 
 And gentle Spring with both her hands 
 New blown flowers was flinging ; 
 The light of love shone on her soul 
 Transfiguring her face, 
 And lending modest stateliness 
 To every maiden grace. 
 It played about her rosy lips 
 Like sunshine on the sea, 
 And smiles of calm and deep delight 
 Told her heart's ecstacy. 
 
 ii. 
 When Autumn's winds blew damp and cold, 
 And sere leaves were falling ; 
 She looked as if she, listening, heard 
 Spirit -voices calling.
 
 A DREAM WITH NO AWAKING. S7 
 
 Her eyes were like a lonely lake 
 Entombed in mountains high, 
 That in its tranquil depths reflects 
 The evening gloom of sky. 
 The smiles had vanished from her lips ; 
 The light had left her face : — 
 Her lover in his grave had found 
 His lowly resting place. 
 
 in. 
 She dreamed a strange and blissful dream : 
 Her parted lover came 
 And clasped her fondly to his heart, 
 His face and form the same 
 As in the days when first his love 
 Her womanhood awoke, 
 And all her heart, and all her soul, 
 With answering passion spoke. 
 It seemed to her the threads of life, 
 Thought, and love unbroken, 
 The glowing words of long ago 
 All were newly spoken : 
 It seemed that God's eternal loom, 
 With those threads was weaving
 
 58 A DREAM WITH NO AWAKING. 
 
 Love's golden webs of deep delight, 
 
 Hope's fair dreams achieving. 
 
 Their meeting was without the clouds 
 
 Born of earth's foreboding, 
 
 Or canker, the frail tree of life 
 
 Always fast corroding. 
 
 The only difference between 
 
 Her dream and things of sense, 
 
 Was, that unfettered soul with soul 
 
 Knew love was more intense. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Death, was that strange and blissful dream, 
 
 Dreamed with no awaking 
 
 To sighs, and tears, and doubtful strife, 
 
 And the world's heart aching. 
 
 With hope despairing in her face 
 
 That night she sought her bed : 
 
 I drew her curtains in the morn, 
 
 And looked, and saw her dead. 
 
 The morning sun streamed in and showed 
 No sad trace of sorrow : 
 A smile upon her parted lips 
 Sunshine seemed to borrow.
 
 New Year's Eve. 
 
 HALL we be here next new year's tide 
 
 To greet the coming year ? 
 
 The world will go its wonted way, 
 But shall we still be here ? 
 It matters not 
 If our love flame 
 Still burns the same. 
 
 If one of us next new year's tide 
 
 Is in another sphere ; — 
 
 If you are left, forbear to grieve 
 
 Or shed a useless tear : 
 
 Your love will find 
 
 My dwelling-place 
 
 Somewhere in space.
 
 60 new year's eve. 
 
 This little world of time and sense, 
 
 Close bounded by its poles, 
 
 Is but a moment's halting place 
 
 On the life wav of souls : 
 
 The furthest star 
 
 By them is sought 
 
 With speed of thought. 
 
 If I am but a step before 
 
 Upon the wonderous way 
 
 Of souls that walk the universe 
 
 In life's more perfect day ; 
 
 It matters not ; — 
 
 God will be there ; 
 
 Life will be fair.
 
 The Children are away. 
 
 "SHE house is full of gloom 
 In sunlight at mid-day ; 
 The world is out of tune 
 The children are away ! 
 
 Joyful birds are singing ; 
 The flowers are bright and gay ; 
 But my heart is heavy : — 
 The children are away ! 
 
 They link our souls to Heaven 
 And teach us how to pray : 
 Heaven seems further from us :- 
 The children are away ! 
 
 God's protecting angels 
 Are round them as they play : 
 Angels seem less near us : — 
 The children are away !
 
 62 THE CHILDREN ARE AWAY. 
 
 Shining through earth's shadows, 
 The lamps of God are they : 
 Life may well be darkened : — 
 The children are away ! 
 
 There is dull heart hunger 
 No memories can allay 
 When the house is silent : — 
 The children are away ! 
 
 There is something wanting 
 Seize pleasures as we may ; 
 Always something wanting : — 
 The children are away ! 
 
 The house is full of gloom 
 Without a brightening ray 
 When Love's lights are absent :- 
 The children are awav !
 
 Mother and Child. 
 
 A LOOK, a tone in my voice, 
 Not meant to be unkind ; 
 A shadow upon the grass ; 
 A whisper in the wind ; 
 Some cause too subtle and deep 
 For my dull sense and ears, 
 Brings a cloud upon your face 
 And fills your eyes with tears. 
 Tell me my child, my darling, 
 What makes vour heart o'erflow 
 With tears of sudden sadness ? — 
 You say, you do not know. 
 
 God knows alone and fathoms 
 Your heart's mysterious deeps ; 
 I only know its shallows 
 On which the sunlight sleeps ;
 
 64 MOTHER AND CHILD. 
 
 Some ripples of emotion 
 
 Are all that I can see, 
 
 Whilst springs of thought and feeling, 
 
 In depths unknown to me, 
 
 Hold in their still recesses 
 
 Below life's surface gleams, 
 
 Heart and soul imaginings 
 
 More wonderful than dreams. 
 
 Your life is a part of mine ; 
 
 I built your heart and brain ; 
 
 Our hearts should beat together 
 
 In pleasure and in pain : 
 
 Why then do these lone heart depths 
 
 My motherhood defy ? — 
 
 In Heaven, God may give the power 
 
 To know you bye and bye.
 
 Old Letters. 
 
 LACK marks on pieces of paper, 
 
 As fresh as the day they were traced 
 By a hand that is dust : a form 
 That death from the world has effaced. 
 
 Black marks on pieces of paper : 
 No more : — but they vividly tell 
 The thoughts and the feelings of one 
 Who once had earth's passions to quell. 
 
 Her thoughts and her feelings come back 
 As marks on her paper I note : 
 Her thoughts and her feelings : her mind : — 
 Herself at the moment she wrote. 
 
 F
 
 66 OLD LETTERS. 
 
 That sentence was weighty as Fate : 
 She paused, ere she wrote it, to think : 
 To make it decided enough, 
 She took a fresh dip of her ink. 
 
 To write it had cost her a pang : — 
 A tear-drop fell down on the page, 
 Hastily turned on her blotter 
 To hide that spontaneous love gage. 
 
 Is her spirit in touch with mine 
 As I read what her marks reveal ? 
 Does Death but unfetter the soul ? 
 Does she know what I think and feel ?
 
 o 
 
 O for one look ! 
 
 FOR one look into that world unseen 
 That men have dreamed of since 
 remotest time ! 
 One glimpse as in a lightning flash, between 
 Two darknesses, a landscape in the night 
 Is seen and instantaneously lost. 
 
 J 
 
 That lightning glimpse would give more 
 
 confidence 
 In what awaits us, when the great death change 
 Has passed upon us, than the evidence 
 Of universal dreams, and all the hopes 
 And revelations of the inspired seers. 
 
 O for one glimpse ! — it may not be ! perhaps 
 To see would fill men's hearts with discontent 
 With life, and earth, and time that must elapse 
 Before, unfettered by material chains, 
 God bids them grasp His great realities.
 
 Voices of the Past, 
 
 VOICES of the past 
 Full of life and thought, 
 Telling heart desires 
 Brother men have sought : 
 Voices of the past 
 From Egyptian tombs, 
 From Assyrian kings 
 In their pictured rooms, 
 From the shores of Greece, 
 From the streets of Rome, 
 From Judean hills, 
 From the Indian home 
 Of the Vedic hymns, 
 From Arabian sands, 
 From the windy capes 
 Of the Saga lands ;
 
 VOICES OF THE PAST. 69 
 
 Voices of the past 
 From the hearts of men, 
 Talking in the dark 
 Just across the glen 
 Of dividing time ; 
 Oft in life's day dream, 
 Brothers of the past, 
 Very near you seem.
 
 The Old Chief. 
 
 (January, 1896). 
 
 "^HE world is against you John Bull 
 
 Its heart rank with envy and hate ; 
 They think your old nose they can pull, 
 That you can do nothing but prate. 
 Set your back to the wall, old man, 
 
 And plant your foot firm on the ground ; 
 Old chief of the Anglican clan 
 Your clansmen will rally around. 
 
 Old sire of the brave and the free, 
 
 They think that your day has gone by ; — 
 Your children from over the sea 
 
 Know better, and tell them they lie. 
 Set your back to the wall, old chief, 
 
 And plant your foot firm on the ground ; 
 From every great Anglican fief 
 
 Your clansmen will rally around.
 
 THE OLD CHIEF. J\ 
 
 They think they can humble your pride ; — 
 
 Your pride is the pride of your race ; 
 To see them his chieftain deride 
 
 Each Anglican heart would abase. 
 Set your back to the wall old chief ! 
 
 Your slogan, the Anglican clan, 
 To come to their chieftain's relief, 
 
 Will answer world-wide to a man.
 
 DATE DUE 1 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 l 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CAVLOBO 
 
 
 
 rBINTEO IN u.s.aJ