Poems of the Heart and Home Part 28

'Twere nought to me, this ever-changing scene Of earthly beauty, sunshine, and delight-- The wood's deep shadows and the valley's green, Morn's tender glow, and sunset's splendors bright-- Nought, if my Father smiled not from the sky, The cloud, the flower, the landscape, and the leaf; My soul would pine 'mid Earth's vain pageantry, And droop in hopeless orphanage and grief.

'Twere nought to me, the Ocean's far expanse, If His perfections were not mirrored there, Hopeless across the unmeasured waste I'd glance, And clasp my hands in anguish, not in prayer, Nought, Nature's anthem, ever swelling up From Nature's myriad voices, for the hymn Would breathe nor love, nor grat.i.tude, nor hope, Robbed of the tones that speak to me of Him.

This wondrous universe, how less than nought Without my G.o.d--how desolate and drear!

A mockery Earth with her vain splendors fraught-- A gilded pageant every rolling sphere; The noonday sun with all his glories crowned, A sickly flame, would glimmer faint and pale; And all Earth's melodies, their sweetness drowned, Be but the utt'rance of a funeral wail!

CANADA

Fair land of peace!--to Britain's rule and throne Adherent still, yet happier than alone, And free as happy, and as brave as free, Proud are thy children--justly proud, of thee!

Thou hast no streams renowned in cla.s.sic lore, No vales where fabled heroes moved of yore, No hills where Poesy enraptured stood, No mythic fountains, no enchanted wood; But unadorned, rough, cold, and often stern, The careless eye to other lands might turn, And seek, where Nature's bloom is more intense, Softer delights to charm the eye of sense.

But we who know thee, proudly point the hand Where thy broad rivers roll serenely grand-- Where, in still beauty 'neath our northern sky, Thy lordly lakes in solemn grandeur lie,-- Where old Niagara's awful voice has given The flood's deep anthem to the ear of heaven Through the long ages of the vanished past, Through Summer's bloom, and Winter's angry blast-- Nature's proud utterance of unwearied song, Now, as at first, majestic, solemn, strong, And ne'er to fail, till the archangel's cry Shall still the million tones of earth and sky, And send the shout to ocean's farthest sh.o.r.e-- "Be hushed ye voices--time shall be no more!"

Few are the years that have sufficed to change This whole broad land by transformation strange; Once, far and wide, the unbroken forests spread Their lonely wastes, mysterious and dread-- Forests, whose echoes never had been stirred By the sweet music of an English word,-- Where only rang the red-browed hunter's yell, And the wolfs howl thro' the dark, sunless dell.

Now, fruitful fields and waving orchard-trees Spread their rich treasures to the summer breeze.

Yonder, in queenly pride, a city stands, Whence stately vessels speed to distant lands;-- Here smiles a hamlet thro' embowering green, And there, the statelier village-spires are seen;-- Here, by the brook-side, clacks the noisy mill,

There, the white homestead nestles to the hill;-- The modest school-house here flings wide its door To smiling crowds that seek its simple lore;-- There, Learning's statelier fane of ma.s.sive walls Wooes the young aspirant to cla.s.sic halls; And bids him in her h.o.a.rded treasures find The gathered wealth of every gifted mind.

Here, too, we see, in primal freshness still, The cool, calm forest nodding on the hill; And o'er the quiet valley, cl.u.s.tering green, The tall trees linked in brotherhood serene, Fattening from year to year the soil below, Which shall in time with golden harvests glow; And yield more wealth to Labor's st.u.r.dy hands,

Than fabled Eldorado's yellow sands.

Where once, with thundering din, in years by-gone, The heavy waggon labored slowly on Thro' dreary swamps by rudest causeways spanned, With s.h.a.ggy cedars dark on either hand, Where wolves oft howled in nightly chorus drear, And boding owls mocked the lone traveller's fear,

Now, o'er the stable Rail the Iron-horse Sweeps proudly on in his exultant course, Bearing in his impetuous flight along, The freighted car with all its living throng, At speed which rivals in its onward flight, The bird's free wing thro' azure fields of light.

Wealth of the forest, treasures of the hills, Majestic rivers, fertilizing rills, Expansive lakes, rich vales, and sunny plains, Vast fields where yet primeval nature reigns, Exhaustless treasures of the teeming soil-- These loudly call to enterprising Toil

Nor vainly call. From lands beyond the sea, Strong men have turned, O Canada, to thee,-- Turned from their father's graves, their native sh.o.r.e, Smiling to scorn the flood's tempestuous roar, Gladly to find where broader, ampler room Allured their steps, a happy, Western home.

The toil-worn peasant looked with eager eyes O'er the blue waters, to those distant skies; Where no one groaned 'neath unrequited toil, Where the strong laborer might own the soil On which he stood; and, in his manhood's strength, Smile to behold his growing fields at length;-- Where his brave sons might easily obtain The lore for which their father sighed in vain, And, in a few short seasons, take their stand Among the learned and gifted of the land,

Could ocean-barriers avail to keep That yearning heart in lands beyond the deep?

No!--the sweet vision of a home--his own, Haunted his days of toil, his midnights lone; Till, gath'ring up his little earthly store, Boldly he sought this far-off Western sh.o.r.e, In a few years to realize far more Than in his wildest dreams he hoped before.

We cannot boast those skies of milder ray, 'Neath which the orange mellows day by day, Where the Magnolia spreads its snowy flowers, And Nature revels in perennial bowers,-- Here, Winter holds his long and solemn reign, And madly sweeps the desolated plain,-- But Health and Vigor hail the wintry strife, With all the buoyant glow of happy life, And, by the blazing chimney's cheerful hearth, Smile at the blast 'mid songs and household mirth.

Here Freedom looks o'er all those broad domains, And hears no heavy clank of servile chains, Here man, no matter what his skin may be, May stand erect and proudly say "I'M FREE!"

No crouching slaves cower in our busy marts, With straining eyes and anguish riven hearts!

The beam that gilds alike the palace walls And lowly hut, with genial radiance falls On peer and peasant,--but the lowliest here Walks in the sunshine, free as is a peer.

Proudly he stands with muscles strong and free, The serf--the slave of no man, doomed to be.

His own, the arm the heavy axe that wields,-- His own, the hands that till the summer fields,-- His own, the babes that prattle in the door,-- His own, the wife that treads the cottage floor, All the sweet ties of life to him are sure, All the proud rights of MANHOOD are secure!

Fair land of peace' Oh mayest thou ever be, Even as now, the land of LIBERTY!-- Treading serenely the bright upward road, Honored of nations and approved of G.o.d,-- On thy fair brow emblazoned clear and bright, FREEDOM, FRATERNITY, AND EQUAL RIGHT!

"I LAID ME DOWN AND SLEPT"

(Ps. 3 5.)

Dark was the midnight hour, And wild with storm. Nor moon nor pitying star Gleamed through the inky darkness from afar; And Earth seemed reeling blindly to her doom, As reels some stout ship thro' the midnight gloom, What time the tempest and the waves have power.

I stood alone that night, And stretched my chill hands tow'rd the rayless sky, And heard the wrathful winds go shrieking by, And thought of one, whose weary feet from far Were journeying homeward thro' that night's wild war, Stricken with dire Consumption's deadly blight

"Oh! feeble, woman's hands Outstretched in anguish thro' the enshrouding dark, Ye cannot reach that far-off, struggling bark That seems so lashed and beaten by the storm; Ye cannot clasp that fever-stricken form, And lead him home across the cold, wet sands!

"But thou canst kneel and pray, Oh, burdened one!--Thy Father, through the night Can hear thy prayer!--Thy tears fall in His sight!

Call e'er so faintly, He thy voice can hear!

Then close the door, and pray;--thy Lord is near-- Is near to thee, and near to him alway!"

Thus spake the voice of Love;-- And, kneeling there, in G.o.d's own gracious ear I whispered all my anguish and my fear, Then laid me down, and slept, and saw no more The night's black pall, or heard the sullen roar Of battling storms that 'mid the darkness strove.

I slept, and woke at length, Strengthened, sustained. Another day, I knew That he had been sustained and strengthened too; And when, at length, his fevered hand I pressed, I blessed the love that so had brought him rest, And me, for added sorrows, added strength.

BRIGHT THOUGHTS FOR A DARK DAY

Will the shadows be lifted to-morrow?-- Will the sunshine come ever again?-- Will the clouds, that are weeping in sorrow, Their glorious beauty regain?

Will the forest stand forth in its greenness?-- The meadows smile sweet as before?-- And the sky, in its placid sereneness, Bend lovingly o'er us once more?

Will the birds sing again as we heard them, Ere the tempest their gentle notes hushed?-- Will the breeze float again in its freedom, Where lately its melody gushed?

Will the beautiful angel of sunset Drape the heavens in crimson and gold, As the day-king serenely retireth, 'Mid grandeur and glory untold?

Yea; the clouds will be lifted to-morrow, From valley, and hill-top, and plain; And sunshine, and gladness, and beauty Will visit the landscape again;-- The forest, the field, and the river Will bask in the joy-giving ray; And the angel of sunset, as ever, Will smile o'er the farewell of day.

For the longest day hastes to its ending,-- The darkest night speeds to the day;-- O'er thickest clouds, ever, the sunbeam Shines on with unfaltering ray;-- Though thou walk amid shadows, thy Father Makes His word and his promises thine; And, whatever the storms that may gather, At length thro' the gloom He will shine!

THE DRUNKARD'S CHILD

A little child stood moaning At the hour of midnight lone, And no human ear was list'ning To the feebly wailing tone; The cold, keen blast of winter With funeral wail swept by, And the blinding snow fell darkly Through the murky, wintry sky.

Ah! desolate and wretched Was the drunkard's outcast child, Driven forth; amidst the horrors Of that night of tempests wild.