S 2039 H8 886 opy 1 ■. Sound his virtues o*er the land. Use our etibrts to assist him. Love and respect he does command. Joy and pletisure in his labors. He works to beautify the earth ; He and the farmer are joint neighborsv They the men of lichest worth. The man of money is common place^ The miser is selfish and is small. He looks on others not as good, Of goodness shows the least of all. Ye men of wealth, of money plenty, Freely give to the honest poor, Let no one from thee go emptv\ Who art worthy to share thy store- What j^hall I s-ay of politicians? Count them gamblers, little worthy They oft h'e and deceive you. Among the refuge of the earth. Yet there are men of sterling worth, I would not censure or would blame. Stand fiir among the good of earth, Their name& high on the roll of faraer. THOMAS R. HOYT. 39 The great statesman let me say, Contends for just and equal laws, His actions shine as briglit as day, He pleads aright a worthy cause. And also here the patriot too. Who loves his country all his days, Will do the most for me and you, To make us happy in all ways. Here amongst the rest of people, The idler and deceitful man. All his days are full of trouble, Would seem best he had not been. Then there is the wicked warrior. Hands all stained with human blood, His wicked work cause death and sorrow, Long should have gone before the flood. The man of peace looks up brightl}', Love and kindness fill his path, All his aim to act uprightly, What a wealth he surely hath. He is rich above all counting, Treasures vast flow in his ways, All obstacles of life surmounting, A round of pleasure all his days. What's the history of the nations? Wars, fighting, changing crowns, These they seemed to much delight in, Upbuilding kingdoms, pulling down. POETICAL WORKS OF Should I tell you of their rulers, Ambiguous dogs 'tis very plain^ Ignorant and rlesigiilng foolers, Leaving their subjects to complain. Nations in debt, republics poor, When rulers, dishonest act like knaves, Were made so by foolish wars. It's then their people become slaves^. We see repubWcs grow and flourish, United, happy, rich and free, Qtiarrel and divided, soon they perish, That's their fate we're left to see. As with man it^'s so with nations. Justice and peace should guide the way. Men should act honest in all stations. To })rolong a prosperous day. Let dim dark enor fall to earth, To rise no more in future time, Let wisdom with her golden wreath, Our days, our weeks, our years entwine- The future to us is unknown, What she holds we cannot see. Today is all can- call our own, Tomorrow belongs to another day- All is right within the circle, A)l move on in different ways. Life seems to us a complex puzzle. Find it so most all our days-. THOMAS H. HOYT. O what a lovely world is this, That God hns made for erring man. Strange it is he cannot see it, And strive to act the best he can. Let us seek the path of duty, God is here, is everywhere, All around is life and beauty, What a boon for man to share. We should all be up and doing, Acting our part on life's great stage, And an honest course pursuing, Making this a golden age. When we have filled up our measure, All the sands of life are run. May we look with joy and pleasure. On the acts and deeds we've done. Looking to that land of bliss, Full of hope, a soul of love, To a better world than this, High in the heavens with God above. Man having here performed liis mission, Well acted life in all its ways, Heaven his home in full fruition. Through the endless round of days. Let me progress and travel on, My carrying ship the wings of love, Ye gods guide safe my little bark, To the joyful realms above. 42 POETICAJL WORKS OF Meets Gabriel at the gate long been, I do much need a guide you see ; "O yes, fair youth, thou may come in, And freely will I wait on thee." Thrice happy in this blessed abode, And naught is here but love and joy, None can enter but the good, Nothing our happiness destroy. The honest miller is up here, And quite at home he seems to be, Wearing a light upon his face, Just as happy as he can be. And here's the beggar on his stafi", The heralds say he has been just, On earth the rich at him did laugh, Before the rich man comes here first. I would enquire if thou'll attend, Who that so blest with joy and mirth, O that's the good Samaritan, Christ's best neighbor when on earth. Lawyer and priest at last come in, How altered do they now appear ; Having got rid their load of sin, Have found the path that leads up here. Show me earth's rulers and her kings. I would inquire and where they be. Way over there, poor v/orthless things, Of small account as you may see. THOMAS R. JIOYT. 43 1 have a wish to see the Jews, That old sect so long have heen, They had so many creeds and views, 'Twas long before they could come in. But now they have become all new, And worship freely with the rest; Just step this way and take a view, They with the Gentiles here are blest. Who on that hill of silver wood, In that bright land of shining glory. They are the wise, the great and good, All full of love most holy. What is that afar off yonder, I dimly see in empty space, That the world you needn't wonder, Called man's temporary dwelling place? The poet, here my good old friend, And with him thou let me stay ; 'T would break a law I could not mend, God's laws are just, we must obey. One question more, allow me to ask, O tell me that I will be done. What man should do, what be his task, To this heaven of bliss to come. His days be filled with noble deeds. His will and purpose to do right, Throw to the winds the sects and creeds. And let God's love burn pure and bright. 44 POETICAL WORKS OF Ye men of earth sliould love the law, Should practice virtue and be just, The Golden Rule Christ left to guide you, In God's love and goodness trust. Thanks on thanks how can I pay thee, For the kindness thou hast done, Thou f, I answer *yes', if fooling- *nay\" Her answer frank, in a pleasant way. He hardly knew just what to say. ''I ask your pardon ; will make amends, Hoping we be better friends." I should here in ray story tell. Thus Maiy loved Ruelier welL He now resolved to end his strife, And take this maiden for a wife. The marriage now was to be made Publicly, t5 seal the trade. The fixings were so rich and tall. It seemed to go ahead of all. The priest came up with pleasant looks. He had the papers and his books. It was his purpose he had come, To join two willing hearts ii?. one- (4; 49 50 POETICAL WORKS OF The service was well performed Amid the halls richly adorned. The bride and groom were costly dressed. And bowed obedient to be blest. They all sat down to a sumptuous feast, From the greatest to the least ; Plenty enough and some to spare ; Was on the whole a grand alTair, The best of spirits freely flowed Plentifully around the board. Some drank whiskey, some good wine, For all were bound to have a time. So in order came the dance, Where beaux and belles could have a prance. They had a grand and noble ball ; It seemed a blessing to them all. The hour is late ; time to retire ; We'll bid good-night to the worthy 'Squire ^ To the lovely bride^ the joyful son. The company all ; my tale is done. NEIGHBORS OF THE LOWLANDS. Come up, Sahoco, to the feast, I have a tale I want to tell, Funny stufTto say the least, Perhaps you'll like it very well. Some like a story, some a songy All wish to hear what's going an. THOMAS R. HOYT. 5 1 Captain Brown g^ot awful mad With his neighbor Johnny Goft", Becifuse he would not say he's glad Old Susan Cate had moved off. With some people 'tis their way, Think all should see the same as they. Old Susan's hens were very bad, W^hich often bothered Captain Brown, That was the reason he was glad This old jade had left the town. Glad was he that she had gone, And not much likely to return. They soon began to twit and fling. And what they said they didn't care, I thought a row would soon begin, You'd thought so, to hear them swear. Men in a passion often use The vilest words that they can choose. Brown called Goff a simple fool, Goff said to Brown he had no wit; They were often told to keep cool. But neither one would 3^ield a bit. Each was bound to have his say. Which caused the rumpus here to-day. They talked so hard and very loud All could hear them, far and nigh. Their noise had gathered quite a crowd, And both sung out, ''You lie ; you lie.'' POETICAL WORKS OF 'Tis not the way that men should do. But quite a dirterent course pursue- Thev stood and jawed quite a spell, Much they said, 'twas silly chaff. Some of their talk not fit to tell. But sure it made the people laugh. To hear those people stand and jaw When neither one could tell what for. Then steps up young Billy Boust, He told them he would put them through ; I thought they'd knock him off the roost In spite of all that I could do. Some think it great, and rather bright To crowd them&elves into a fight. Me had put in his ugly blab. To raise them up in higher tone- Should known enough to hold his gab And let those angry foo!&, alone. The neighbors here did plainly know He did it all to make a show. Old Miss Gossip, she was there. Their angry words pleased her well, >She gathered all with greatest care ; She loved a bag of news to tell. Yes, that was so, 'twas her delight^ To talk and tattle day and night- It grew so warm and hot at last, Keopy said they'd said enough. THOMAS R. HOYT- 53 He'd put them in the lobby fast, Heard any more their wicked stutf. He talked with reason and so clear These neighbors now began to fear. Keopy told them very plain It was an outrage and a sin. Such foolish talk- O what a shame I He never wished to hear again. So now attend, Keopy cries, I want you to be good and wise. They soon began to cool and calm, And made excuses very free. Said they meant no hurt or harm. And sorry they should disagree. The sky around looked clear and bright. As both seemed anxious to do right. They talked friendly as they spoke. Each telling how to make amends, Funny it was to hear them joke, See them go home such cozy friends I In the path of life you'll find This a picture of part mankind. OLD MISS RAGHEL. Rachel, Rachel, who is Rachel? She be my Aunt, let me suppose ; Here she comes with her big satchel : See how brisk and firm she ^oes. 54 POETICAL WORKS OF Welcome, welcome old Miss Rachel, How many hours I've spent with you ; In my early days, how watchful, Rocked me in the cradle, too. ^ I love to have her come and see us — Talk and laugh, and vent her joys ; O, the rich and costly presents. She would brino: to give us boys. vShe will tell us something funny — Gets rested, and puts up her staffs ; She is rich — don't want for money, Has more than she can spend by half. Much with us she was a stopping ; Helped our folks the cooking do. Everytime she went a shopping, Would always bring me something new. vShe would bring me home some candy, That I always liked to see ; Bought whatever else come handv, She seemed to think so much of me. O, I can't forget her goodness, Ah, this old Lady that is now ; She was always full of kindness, Ever ready to help and do. Rachel very free and generous ; Much to the poor did give away. Her good friends are all around us. And she so pleasant in her wa\-. THOMAS R. HOYT. 55 Hurry, hurry, old Miss Rachel ; Were the words I used to say, When she went to fetch my playthings. How sweet the moments of that day. In that day, how bright and finely. All the moments seemed to run ; All my playmates, gay and lively. And all our world was full of fun. Now I have grown up a man, With a farm, a store of wealth ; If I was poor, more joyful, then I was so happy in myself. Never can forget Miss Rachel ; Almost as soon forget myself. Would be hard to find her equal. She seemed to me a store of wealth. Peace go with this good old lady. Always loved her, from a boy ; May none of her days be shady, But all of them be full of joy. A SCHOOL. An original poem read at the close of the School Meeting on Tibbetfs Hill, on the 13th of March, 1880, by the author. A school to teach the children well, Is what I am about to tell ; Just the date I do not know, We'll call it fifty years ago. 56 POETICAL WORKS OB Master goes in to commence his schoo? ; Some scholars bright, some almost fool r. Two dozen here, it may be more. All in confusion on the floor. He tells them all they should obey^ Mind every word he has to say ; They e^'e him close, yea, every one. As he cries out, now school's begun. He says to all, with cheerful looks, I want you to study all your books. Not waste your time in idle play, But get your lessons every day. Boys, come out I I'll hear 3'ou read, This is a branch you'll silways need ; I want your mind to rightly train, At head commence — now speak out plain. Some read fast, some read slow, Some read loud, and some read low. Some read badly, some very well, ►Some in a way I cannot tell. If you have read your lesson through. Each to his seat may quickly go, • 1 want you all to study well, So all the answers you can telL I'll now attend to the grammar class ; Bring out your books, I'll hear you parse : Tell me the verbs, the moods and tense. How we should talk to make s:ood sense. THOMAS R. IIOYT. 57 Explain the adjectives, you know, The nouns and the pronouns, too, Plainly all the genders tell ; For a new class did very well. Master, will you mend my pen? Cries out a boy to teacher then ; Master with knife cuts oft' the quill ; Small boys there, you must keep still. Bill to the teacher now has come, You show me how to do this sum ; Two figures wrong I here can see, vSet down fifteen, divide by three. Ben, with your writing now proceed ; The second class come out and read ; Some half a dozen, perhaps more, Parade themselves out on the floor. Richard Brown, what makes you stare? What mischief are you into there? What is up with idle Sue? Must I go there and punish you? Master wants to know the time. Pulls out his watch, so nice and fine, Now thinks his time is rather slow. Looks again, his watch don't go. Puts it safe in his pocket vest. Intends to give it time to rest ; Looks at the sun, as well he may, To study out the time of day. 58 POETICAL WORKS OF The teacher calls to Jeremiah, To-rnorrow you may build the fire, And if the day is cold, or storm. Heat up the schoolhouse nice and warm. If you have got your lessons well You may now come out and spell, Well done, few words missed ; School is done, you are dismissed. The schools of fifty years ago Were about the same as they are now. Little diflerence in the main, Boys are boys, and girls the same. Should we here the schools compare Would find but little difference there. Gay houses now, and costly books, Might change the view in outward looks. A, B, C, we plainly know, Same as two thousand years ago. That is, they remain the same, Never changed their place or name. The figures, too, O they are such That two and two count just as much As they ever did, or ever will, When they do same places fill. And with the rest I here would say, Look to the morals of that day, Be truth and honesty the test, We 'd only show as second best. THOMAS R. HOYT. 59 Yes, schools are blessings in our land, Should our highest hopes command, Should strive hard to them improve, And give to them our care and love. They help build up our land and state. Aid much our children to be great, Should be the pride of man and youth. They help teach us to know the truth. CHRISTMAS. Christmas all, a merry Christmas, To the great family of man, Nineteen hundred years — a little less. Since this day here first began ; Since that star of light appeared, To guide aright the shepherd band ; Since the world with Christ was cheered ; Since he taught '*Good will to men." Most glorious day of all the days. Our hearts should warm with ardent love, Our souls be full of love and praise To the author of all — to God above. What a joyful, happy season, Neighbors and friends, the world all o'er. Oh, let each man use his best reason ; Give gifts to feed and clothe the poor. Go rOETICAL WORKS OF Yes, give wide and free thy bounty. Those who fortune favors well ; Heaven guide us to our duty, Make ghid the souls around us dwell. This day let all look pretty, All feel as great and good as kings. Youth and age alike be happv. How many gifts this sweet day brings. And those gifts of love and friendship, Mementos of to-day and past, Treasures in the heart they lay up, Make bright our days, and long they last. Oh, bless the blessed Christmas eve. The center of our hopes on earth. Rich the blessings we receive, Christmas proclaims our Savior's birth. ADAM AND THE APPLE. In that good book that's very old, Adam eat the apple we are told. Eve, his partner, helped him to it. Or, 'tis said, he couldn't do it. What was its color, white or red. In the record there's nothing said ; But 'tis natural to suppose, Looked red and blushing, like the rose. Eve gave to Adam of this fruit, And his taste it seemed to suit. THOMAS R. HOYT. We do not read lie did complain. Other than showed a sense of shame. This is a type more plain to show To man what Adam did not know. And mysteries we often find Amongst the doin^^s of mankind. Various opinions do prevail Of the version of this tale. And Vv^e let the subject rest ; Vou can explain it as vou think best. THE WRITING PEN. "The pen is mightier than the sword/' It is in truth, upon my word ; Has done more good to noble man Than the sword has or ever can. The early history of the pen Comes from the goose and not the hen. Lung she kept it by her side. And often showed it with much pride. The quill long used by men to write, Hov/ many years cannot tell quite. Men took a thing of lesser grace And steel employed to take its place. Then again, if rightly told, Some made their writing-sticks of gold, Which answers well if not abused, And is a pen that's often used. 62 POETICAL WORKS OF " I take up my writing pen, This willing servant of all men, ■ Found ever ready at the task, To write such words my mind would ask What more potent than the pen. To make excitement amongst men? And who more active in the courts, In making records and reports. Thy province is all o'er the earth. And who is there can tell thy worth ? Thy praises loud 'low me to sing, For the rich blessings thou dost bring. When I am off and far away. Pen tells me what my friends would say. So I in turn take up the pen? And tell my thoughts and views to them. Think thou a moment, business men, What could we do without the pen. Would it not spoil our business quite, If it were so we could not write? The pen and t3''pe give us the news. Help scatter wide our thoughts and views. Most all the knowledge we possess Comes from the pen and printing press. How much we use it in our labors, Conversing with our distant neighbors. Used by the nations of the earth, A golden gem of richest worth. THOMAS R. HOYT. 63 OLD TIMES. Let me go back to olden times, Tell of those scenes in humble rhymes ; Yes, to those clays of long ago. Things were different ; it was so ; Change, ever busy altering things, To us new objects brings : Some we call better, some the reverse ; None so stout to stav her course. Happiness in those days of yore Dwelt around each neighbor's door ; Man did not bow, obedient nod, And worship money as his god. Friends they had, and neighbors, too. Kind and generous, good and true. And friendship, too, I must declare, Was surely not a stranger there. Kind feelings with generous love Kept their minds far up above The sordid toys of Pride and Strife. They could enjoy the sweets of life. In those times of long ago Men were honest : ah, it was so : The rogue and villain were despised, And meanly looked on with all eyes. A neighbor could his neighbor trust ; His aim and purpose to be just. 64 POETICAL WORKS OF It was his joy, his anxious care, In all his dealings to be fair ; Had not so many useless toys, But rich in comforts, real joys ; True happiness was felt and seen, And pride was banished off the scene. Their peace of mind, a happy feast, A kind of heaven, to say the least. Shall I not sing it in those lays, That those were truly happy days? O, what a joyful round of life, High up above the reach of strife, Where all was lovely — all pure bliss. Who could not love a world like this? NEWSBOY'S ADDRESS. TO THE PATRONS OF THE AMOSKEAG REPRESENTA- TIVE, 1840. I come to speak of what is past, And what there's going on — To tune my pipes, to blow my blast. And guess what is to come. Year eighteen hundred thirty nine, Like other years have gone. To number with past years.of time, And another year has come. We'll greet this year with open hand — The Yankees none need fear ; THOMAS R. HOYT. 65 For while we live in Freedom's land, Wish all "A Happy New Year." The farmer I will notice first — He being my best friend — His calling honorable and just — On him we do depend. The Mechanic, too, should have a place High in my new year's song — His skill deserves our warmest praise — So here we pass along. These two, the proudest pillars are In freedom's fabric found. Should of the "honor" have a share, Through all the country round. Great are the changes that have been For this whole year or more, Since January last came in. Would count to many score. The speculation mists are past. That gambling, idle mean — People begin to see at last 'Tis a delusive dream. This jack-a-lantern guide may go- It's done its woful harms ; People will not heed her now— She's lost her magic charms. (5) 66 POETICAL WORKS OF The times are hard just now, we awn ; And money is scarce we know — Bnt better times are coming on In a few months or so. And as the seasons roll around^ Presenting- many beauties. Let us in wisdom's path be found Performing all our duties. A bounteous Heaven has filled our hearts. And led us through all mazes — Has blessed our commerce and our arts, For which we shout our praises. And as I must bid }ou adieu For these twelve months to come, I say, fair Virtue's path pursue, Heed this, and I am donCo- NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS FOR 1842, Once more I come to greet my friends, And o'er the globe my message send To tell the news, both far and near, And wish you all a Happy New Year I Year eighteen hundred fortv-one Has had its place — its course is run — And eighteen hundred forty-two In page of time now comes to view. THOMAS lU HOYT. 6^ The Farmer true, to him most dear — ■ We wish success through all the year — Plenty of crops to use mucI spare, To sell the rich and give the poor. Mechanics too, well claim our praise. Our houses they both frame and raise. Our implements make and repair — May heav'n's rich blessing be their share. The Press— my friends lend it your aid— The Printer should be promptly paid — invincible — Truth's noble shield. Most potent engine man can wield. If we look to Victoria's Court,, We see what Johnny BulFs about — To 'large his bounds, to increase his power. Build up the rich and grind the poor. What's going on in olden France? Has PhilHppe's horse began to prance r This ball of wind, 'tis all a blight— A few months more and "all is right." A Providence vi^ith guardian hand Has watched o'er American land. May Heaven still our course direct, And all our dearest rights protect. Woman fair — she claims our meed— The firmest friend in time of need — Love, beauty and virtue, her store, What could mortals wish for more ? 6S ' POETICAL WORKS OF Here's a wish to the world around, That we in duty all be found, Doing all things rightly in their turn As long as the lamp of life shall burn, NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS 1843. Again I come — another year Has rolled around — a new one's near ; In season, too, I've got along To tell the folks what's going on. i\ccept ni}' hand, my thanks sincere. Wishing you all a happy new year ! And all the blessings man can know, To cheer his path of life below. Unroll my scroll. — Friends, now hail And you shall hear my year-spun tale. Where to begin I don't well know, But thoughts will give as they may flow. To the old year we'll bid adieu. And welcome in the coming new. W^elcome, ye Farmers, to our treat, Ye are the ones we gladly greet ; With open hearts, expanded views, The best companions we could choose. Mechanics, too, — I love the name — High eminence they justly claim. In frankness, too, they're prone to deal^ THOMAS R. HOYT. 60 Who labor for their country's weal. The patriot, and tlie statesman too, Will find enough this year to do, To write, to reason, and to prate. And guide aright the helm of state. The Editors who wield the pen, Are not always the best of men ; And Preachers, too, I need not say, No better than they ought to be. The idle loafer, sauntering round, Out of employment he is found ; Pure happiness with him won't stay, He is the nuisance of the day. The "Miller" humbug now is past. It could at best but shortl}' last ; And those who in that scheme believed, Own that they have been deceived. And what will next enlist the mind, Cannot exactly be defined. But something foolish and untrue, Will be held up to public view. Our own America — happy land ! As a Republic may it stand, Its good be felt on every shore, Till time progressing is no more ! But many here there are on hand To go unto a distant land. It lies way ofl:^in the "far west," But those contented will do best. 'JO POETICAL WORKS OF "•The people's friend — the tyrant's foe,'' On lis its blessings doth bestow. The PRESS — the star of every clime — May its bright light forever shine. The Beau is seeking out a wife. To spend with him the course of life. The Belle — ah ! she is seeking too, A husband that is just and true. Some here will princely fortunes make. Some men will spend their whole estate. While some grow rich and some grow poor. And some remain as they were before. Woman, the fairest, we would cheer. And wish her too a happy new year I K partner sure in Deity's plan — Woman — best gift of God to man. My honest wish, my fervent prayer. That God may crown the coming year With peace, with plenty, and with health. And much increase our stock of wealih. THE TIN PEDLER OF OLDEN TIME. I am a Tin pedler, the world I well use, Come join in the chorus, I love the sweet muse, I'm as proud as a prince, as happy as a king, When naught t^Ise to do, I leisurely sintx. THOMAS R. HOYT. 7 1 How do you do, maim, sweet maiden so fair? I've come a great ways to sell you tin wave ; I've drove in the wet, the sunshine and shade — I knew if I saw you we couldn't but trade. There are Pedlers all 'round, with poor, fushy tin. Tell so many lies, 'tis an abominable sin ; But I was brought up a tin pedler from youth. And always was told to deal in the truth. Here's a new platter, some call it a pati, Made of cross tin, I'll warrant it to stand. It's soldered all round, its edges aie fast — I know it is good and forever will last. Here's a kettle that's made of the purest of brass. To boil up your clothes and boil down your sauce, You use it a day, you'll declare in a trice. You'd not be without it for double the price. Here are good pewter spoons, and some still lighter, The more they are used grow brighter and brighter, I'll warrant them to be the best of block-tin, And when they're worn out you can sell them again. Here's a tin kitchen to roast your fresh meat, To cook something good for your husband to eat ; A ladle to finish, a saucepan and skimmer. And a sounding horn too, to call him to dinner. Here are pots for your coffee, and pots for your tea, To cheer up your spirits and make you feel glee ; 72 POETICAL WORKS OF A rattle and whistle, and many such toys. To please all the girls and tickle the boys. Lanterns and graters, I carry for the trade, Tho' on such kinds of ware there ain't nothing But I must be willing to please every man, [made And work off my tin ware, wherever I can. Here's a strainer, a new fashioned pail, Made upon honor, I know it can't fail ; Sold four hundred dozen, besides a half score. And if I'm not mistaken, shall sell many more. I carry matches, tho' all sell them higher, I bought them on purpose to kindle yourfire — A real convenience to get up in the night, To light your lamp, your cigar or your pipe. Here is a pint measure, a water-pot good, It ain't one-half that makes up our load, Large platters and basin's to place on your shelf — Just step on the wheel and look for yourself. My ware is all sound, I brought it afiir. All warranted to me, the best of tin ware, How that I bought it but very few know, And that is the reason I sell it so low. You would well like to know what I take for my Anything, madam, that comes in my way ; [pay. Pewter, brass buttons, sheepskins and horse-hair. And all the old rubbish a family can spare- THOMAS R, HOYT. 73 I'Jl buy your corn, beans and buckwheat, Or anything else a tinman can eat ; Buy feetings, sheepskins and horse-hair. Or anything else a tinman can wear. Old Iron I want, pure copper and zinc, Or anything else that will rattle or chink ; Dried apples I want, old paper rags too, All the wool yarn that's dyed a deep blue. I buy your new butter and all your old cheese, Take all you Jiave, or as much as you please : I am an odd pedler, take sugar and honey, And it raises a smile if you pay me the money. 'What's the price of this pan, sir, what do you ax? Three shillings apiece, I commonly tax; But I won't be hard while selling to you, And call it a trade if you pay me but two.' Here's a new baker, it is your's dear miss — Grant me a favor, a sweet, loving kiss, The bargain completed, no one questions why ; I'll remember you long, so dear madam, good bye. And now, to start off and muse on the throng, Slam down the old tin cart, crack up and go 'long, I deal with all classes, give each one a call. Believing a pedler the happiest of all. If we mortals look upon the big world, All is in confusion and all in a whirl. All is in tumult, commotions and strife, What pleasures and cares make up a inan's life ! 74 POETICAL WORKS OF What we're all seekin^^y a Yankee can guess, The pearl of pure comfort and sweet happiness ; Great riches and honors, we want for our share, To be loved and respected, and a plenty of tin ware. If we look to the Lawyer, we plainly see His life is in quarrels to gain his own fee ; He'll shuffle and cheat, and even do worse, If there is a prospect of filling his purse. The Priest will puff up and pounce on his books, He thinks a great deal, vou may know, by his looks. Whether its the good of his flock or his own private That's in his mind most I leave you to say. [pay. The Pedagogue Teacher, pent up in his school. All that he does, he pretends is by rule, He oft cares not a whit whether they study or play, Can get over his time and pocket his pay. Doctors will ride in sulkvs and hacks, 'Mongst the profession are a great many quacks, Not censure with blame, nor charge all with sin, For a good doctor is a valuable thing. Mechanics I love, they do us much good. Who work the fine metals and also in wood, Tho' they meet with troubles, I'm sorry to say, And customers, careless, forget when to pay. The Yankee Farmer with houses and lands. Great love and respect he always commands,* Yes, the noble farmer, I vow and declare, vStands next to the Pedler who sells out tin ware. I THOMAS R. HOYT. 75 To enfoy sweet quiet, take peace of my life, I shun all the broils of political strife, To gain real profit, by such labor, is all fudge, It costs all it comes to, if I'm any judge. Now look at the Pedler, how open and free, Is lively and jovial, can join in a spree — At home in all places, all people his friends. What an envious station the Pedler commands! A SOLILOQUY, Come up, my son, come hear my lays- A lesson good for all your days. Be just, be honest — you cannot fall, For God upholds and governs all. I come, a Herald stored with rhymes. To tell of men and the times : To foster right, suppress the wrong. Shall be the burden of my song. The world it is a real stage — The king is actor with the page : We are progressing, can't go back. Each has a certain part to act. Times are changed since long ago ; They daily change, you'll find it so. Time's steady course you cannot stay Nor add nor take from it a day. 76 POETICAL WORKS OF We'll let the Priest come up the first ; To tell the truth you know he must — Speak Love and Justice, to begin To free the world from wicked sin. He should be faithful, should be true. And all the works of goodness do ; His work well done — O what a task ! A monument that would long last. There's Preachers 'round most everywhere- What they teach they don't much care, It's what I hear the people say, They care the most to get their pay. The world's corrupt and full of sin, See, my son, humbugs come in ; Truth comes in time and lays them low Until another batch can grow. The Doctors, they I cannot pass ; If they are good, O what a class ! Blessings they to all men given, Greatest treasure under Heaven. There a set of men called quack — What they should know they always lack, And what they do is often wrong ; Deceiving Guides, pass them along. Here comes the Lawyer with his quill ; He wants your mone}^ — where's your bill ? If men were wise and well agreed. This kind of man we shouldn't need. THOMAS U. IIOYT. 77 The world is coy and full of sin ; Then again we call him in To get our debts — I hear men say He is quite useful every day. The Politician with his note Will point you out the way to vote ; He deals in flattery and abuse, And hopes to turn them to his use. The true patriot who loves his land. Will use the power he can command, Build up the State to live in peace, And her best interests to increase. The Statesman for good laws contends, And to such views we say Amen ; If all would do the best they know, O what a kingdom here below ! Support the State with honest care, Give each and every man his share, Let right and reason lead the way, The path is plain — heed what I say. The Editor with tales and news Labors hard to give his views ; He'll change around, you'll often find, If he should have an axe to grind But then, again, I think we should Credit him with doing good ; He gives us all much print to read — This kind of folks we surely need. 78 POETICAL WORKS OF The Farmer, with his house and lands, Our choicest wishes he commands ; What nobler lord can there be found Than he who plows and tills the ground? His mind is happy, pure and free, His course is honored — all agree ; His days and years are spent in mirth. The happiest being here on earth. Mechanics come, with cheerful face. This lovely world of life to grace ; His mind well stored with plans and skill, A noble circle he must fill. He works the metals and the wood. And makes us things that we call good ; O, what a blessing, we should say, We use his works — yes, every day. The noble Sailor plows the main. And risks his all in hope of gain ; His home it is upon the seas, A roving life of toil and ease. The Angler, with his rod and hook. Treads the sides of every brook ; It is his hope, his highest wish, To fill his sack with shining fish. The Speculator is seen about — A kind offish we could do without ; He swims in waters high and low, And how he stands I hardlv know. THOMAS R. HOVT. 79 Then there is the drunken Sot, A character I'd 'most forgot ; He adds no beauty to my song — Of small account — pass him along. The Poet rich in shades and hues, Gives the world his choicest views ; If he is honest and renowned, His brow with laurels will be crowned. Flere comes at last the honest man, God bless his soul, how good his plan ; To live the golden rule of right, To make us happy, wish he might. What a world in this we live ! We're taught the lesson to forgive ; How varied are our plans and views, And each a different road pursues. Some are rich and some are poor, And some are beggars at your door ; All is excitement — all is strite — Which shows the checkered scenes of life. Those who build their castles high, Whose towering heads point to the sky — With goods and stores and health abound— It is not here content is found. . The humble peasant rears his cot, He is thrice happy with his lot ; His mind is stored and full of joy — Sweet happiness, without alloy. So POETICAL WORKS OF The Ladies fair come to our aid — The richest pearls that God has made We give to them our heart and hand, And that respect they do command, All is right in God's own plan ; We cannot see — dark erring man — His all-wise purpose from above ; Above us all — infinite love, . MANCHESTER. Ho ! Manchester^ I come to sing^, A few remarks I here would make, A tribute to her name would bring. The largest city in the State. Old "Amoskeag" that Indian name For the Falls and all around : Here the red-man chased his game. Once his home and fishing ground. Later years the white man came And settled on this bank of sand ; Plenty had of fish and game. Farmers would choose better land. Some dozen dwellings, perhaps less, All could be counted on this range ; Rude and novel I should guess. All around looked very strange. THOMAS R. HOYT. Si Should we look back some fifty years, This little spot a sandy waste. Altered now, the scene appears, A city large of wealth and taste. This town was once old Derryfield, Men and times were different then ; This land produced a scanty yield, Though here lived some worthy men. This city fair^ we love to view. And note the splendid works of man. Here a town built up all new, With buildings many rich and grand. Proud Merrimac with waters clear, Rolls down the path it long hath trod ; Whittier seems to hold thee dear. And almost rank thee as a god. A noble river sure thou art, And Manchester owes all to thee ; Without thy aid few mills would start, On this spot of industry. Oece idly thou run o'er the ground, Flowing freely from the north ; Thy waters turn the wheels around, Helping to make a world of cloth. Mechanics came with care and skill, Built these mills and mansions too. Cut down the banks and made a fill, Built these streets where people go« l6) POETICAL WORKS OF Here is tlie hum of indus'.ry. We love to catch the pleasing sounds A welcome note for you and me — A blessing to the country *round. The stores are thickly planted here, Filled with goods of every grade. Some sell cheap and others dear, This is a lively place of trade. Lavs'vers and Doctors crowded in, And Priests a plenty Vou should know, Warning the people of their sin, And pointing out the path to go. The Printers here are wide awake. Throwing off tfieir sheets of news ; Industrious are, and no mistake. Giving us their thoughts and \iews.- Here is the rich and here is the poor, The virtuous and the man of sin ; M\' tale is told, will say no more. Tvpe of the world that we live in. WEALTH. Things arc ordered and are such It is no viitue to be rich ; We see it so can add this more. It is no sin to be poor. But *Samson says, and with much truths *.See his Avorks on the ways of Man. THOMAS R. HOYl\ 83 • 'Wealth is the clouded care of yoLitli," And also adds on the same page, "•The supporting staff of age." We want wealth, none to boast, It's not the rich enjoys the most; We find mor-e joy among the poor, VV^ho have but little for their store ; A man who is deeply in debt. Is heard to grumble and to fret, He may be generous and be brave, Shows he's little other than a slave. It is our duty, all -should try In youth to lay up something by, To aid us in declining years. And keep us tree of debts and fears. •'Goodness shines on all creation, From the Heavens to the sod. Let man be happy in his station. Living on the love of God." A VIEW OP' MAN. The world teems full of deception. How willing is man to deceive ; He shows short on full inspection. And what is there he won't believe? He oft believes as he is taught, No matter if it is not true, S4 POETICAL WORKS OF Can. swallow all Religions wrought^ A Pope, a Pagan, Priest or Jew. Adverse opinions fill the air, How many views before our sight. It is lo, here, it is lo, there. And which are we to fudge is right? Some believe this^ and others that, Eternal truth will stand the same ; For no belief can change the fact, Throng}"! all the coming days of time, Where shall we rest, in whom confide, To lead us in the better way? Shall we take reason for our guide, Or blindly believe what others say? Let us search with light and reason, Try all the truth and right to know, We should look in time and season, vSee for ourselves if things be so. The light of Freedom now is dawning, Breaking the bands that bound the mind. Popes and priests mav take their warning, They and their works must fall behind. Long have they enslaved the mind, But with the past have had their day ; The noble mind no longer bind, She's burst her bonds and gone her way- THOMAS R. HOYT. S^ Left priests contending for their creetls. That are fast crumbhng to cleca\' ; Shall we not judge men by their deeds, For sure there is no better wav. We hope to see great man improving, Acting upright in all his ways, In true reforms be up and doing. Performing good through all his days. AGRICOLUS, THE WANDERING FARMER, The Poet here assumes his task, A Poem he thinks he hears you ask ; Can he talk more fine or charming, Then tell of farmers and of farming. Now to begin, suppose we must, Count old Adam about the first. To cultivate and work the land. And trim his trees with careful hand. His garden large, almost a farm. Thought to possess an extra charm ; The land so rich and very new, He had but little work to do. This was a land if I am right, Where a man could take delight. The trees bore that kind of fruit, The appetite did seem to suit. 86 POETICAL WORKS OF How well he did I cannot say, He did not manage long to stay, But most his trouble and his strife. Said to be owing to his wife. How he came on in after years^ Was verv well 1 think appears^ Plenty of land and taxes light, It is supposed he came out right. Farming is healthy we are told, And Adam lived to be quite old ; As by the record it appears, Lived some over eight hundred years. We might as welly perhaps 'tis best, To let this early farmer rest ; Bring down our talk to later date. And tell of farming in our State. We've farmers good and farmers poor. Know what they are told, sometimes more ; Some tarm it right and some excel, Some in a way that's hard to tell. There's farmer White, his mind is sound. Kind to his neighbors all around, Heeds not the smile or frown of kings. But independent in most things, Good farm and tools at his command. Does rightly cultivate the land ; Little depends on other folks, To tend his stock or grow his crops. THOMAS R. IIOYT. 87 His labor brings him joy and health. Is daily adding to his wealth. He has enough, what he lias more. Oft distributes to the poor. We look again, see farmer Brown, Qiiite a different man in town ; He has so much to tell and say. Can only farm in a shiftless way. His work behind all seems to drive, It is no secret he don't thrive, We could see this and even more. Don't love to work and he is poor. We see a class still lower down, Scattered some in every town, A gaming, lazy, idle class, Of small account, we'll let them pass; The farming North of now-a-days, Looks a work that lightly pays ; Man's living and taxes on the farm, Takes nearly all that he can earn. One thing I would bring up to view, Our land much worn and far from new, Does not possess that virgin soil. To grow large crops with little toil. Farming now-a-days is such, See very few that do grow rich. The outs exceed the net incomes, Those make it pa}' are lucky ones. 88 POETICAL WORKS OF Business controlled by clubs and rings» Sorry to see this state of things. I wish the farmer full success, And Heaven ail his efforts bless. These farms deserted look forlorn. Men moved off, their beauty gone. Lands show poor, buildings decay. Which predicates a sorry day. Not paint the picture dark forsooth, But I must not evade the truth. Show things plainly as they are, Or you would say I was unfair. Farmers a worthy class indeed, Just the folks we mostly need. We use their products every day, And without them how could we stay? Go on, go on, with noble soul, The farmers sure support the whole ; These honoured kings I should here state. Rank first among the good and great. Let cheerful labor with her charms, Be the sweet music of the farms, And industry upon your creed. With heaven's blessing will succeed. Now to wind up 1 here would say, We all look for a brighter day, May blessings rich, thick on us flow, As on the path of life we go. THOMAS R. HOYT. 89 THE LITTLE BOY. So here I come, a little boy, Beginning to act, a few years old, Seeking to find the path of joy, Full with pleasures, wealth and gold. Some one tells me I should do this, Another says, that is not right ; The next one adds, you'll surely miss, So many ways that blind my sight. However, I must act some way, And the best way how should I know, I cannot mind all others say, Perplexing looks the path to go. But I will try and act my mind, What that is I hardly know, I would not wish to be confined, Too much in what I say and do. I see I need to go to school. To train my mind as others do ; I do not wish to be a fool, O let me learn the same as you. Our hero bold with pleasant look, Has made his mind to be a man, Hies to the school with slate and book. To be a scholar if he can. 90 POETICAL WOrvKS OF He goes to school a term or two, Head of his class he leads the van, The useful studies has gone through. And now assumes the cogno man. VVe find him next upon a farm. That his friends have helped to. This has for him a lovely charm, This the work he will pursue. He labors well with careful hand, All full of spirit, joy and life, Love and respect he does command — He seems to think he needs a wife. A partner of his joys and care. To aid him in his daily toil, And with him life's blessings share. As he improves and works the soil. That prize of worth he now has found, To Betsey fair he gives his hand ; His friends are many, all around His home and farm shows rich and grand. Life's varied round they now pursue. Are daily adding to their wealth. What lovelier scene for me or you, All moves in harmony and health. We now have traced the little boy, From early childhood up to man, Some good should learn and here enjoy, If strive to do the best we can. THOMAS R. HOYT. 9 1 Success flows from the path of right, Rich blessings crown the great and good, Truth makes our lives show clear and bright^ If act our PART as here we should. MUSINGS. I am joyful and delighted, Studying nature's book of God, The volume large and variegated. Full of pages rich and broad. The loaded trees tell his goodness, The smallest plant his wisdom shows. The earth teems with life and fulness. In harmony all nature goes. The falling leaf teaches all a lesson. Which is well fur man to know, To the earth all seems to hasten, In this changing world below. Sing your praises in good humor. To the great Author of all good. Let your soul with love flow over. Feeling thankful as we should. THE AGED MAN. I come to sing the aged man, Full of thoughts and full of cares. His years outnumber three score ten. As calm and cheerful he appears. 92 POETICAL WORKS OF Seen much the world, its many ways, While acting out the play of life. Looks back with pleasure to those days, Full of excitement, joy and strife. The many scenes and acts gone by, Retraces them with fulsome joy, They fire his soul, light up his eye. Musing on days when he's a bo\ . Notes the passing days of pleasure, Looking on the long gone past, Time sped on at a slow measure, Now the days fly swift and fast. Reviewing acts that are past and gone, Thinks he sees moves he should have made, While other works if left undone, Would placed him in a higher grade. He had a part that he must act. Could not go by or leave undone. Time, onward moving can't go back. Deals out her moments one by one. His youthful days, he holds them fast. Asks for what purpose was I made. To fill a space, perform, a task. The hidden future can't pervade. Man cannot go a perfect round. Must tread the checkered road of life, ^ Perfection here cannot be found, His path is strewn with joy and strife. THOMAS R. HOYT. 93 Yea, when his time on earth is up, And all his earthly tasks are done, Let joy and hope fill full his cup — Great Nature calls and he is ^one. PAST HISTORY OF MAN. We read history for instruction, And in its lines its pages show, Man has been busy in destruction. Fighting his friend and neighbor too. Brutal force he rated highest, Slay and destroy looked his aim, To increase his power by conquest, To crush his neighbor — calls it fame. As we look back on man's history, Many his days seem spent in wars, His actions look to us a mystery. Calls it he fights for faith and laws. And is this all for what he fights? Yea, other things I here should tell : To rob his brother of his rights, To feed his pride and have his will. Passion calls this brute a hero, Who would the most destroy and slay. Read the tales of wicked Nero, Thou read the actions of that day. Let us hope those times are past, Nevermore to this earth return. 94 POETICAL WORKS OF Such days and times should shortly last, Man should a wiser lesson learn. Let him throw down his spear and sword, Low on the trround to rot and rust, Go heed the teachinf(s of our Lord, In God above put all his trust. O let him live a life of peace, Here acting nobly as he should. Let all his works of love increase, Show man a he'xng ^reat and good. OCTOBER. The Bard would sing of sweet October, Most pleasant month of all the year, With fruits and pleasures flowing over, Delightful doth the scene appear. Here she comes, the type of beauty, Her bowl is loaded to the brim, Awake, O man to life and duty, Her golden fruits to gather in. This a work of real pleasure. Collecting in the season's yield. Adding to our health and treasure, A scene of joy we can but feel. Seethe landscape, how inviting. Fruit trees bending to the ground, This a season all dehght in, All hail with joy the harvest sound. Her many clear and sunny days, From early morn to latest eve, Should fill us with a song of praise. For the rich blessings we receive. THOMAS K. HOYT. 95 INDEX. Page. 4 Proem '..!*.'..*.*. ^ Moi-ning 5 California ..'.'.'.V.'.'.'. ^ Long as'O ^*/.' ^ The Seasons .*.'..*.*.* 8 Musings • V • • • • • • .7 *.V ^^ David Dandy's Ricle Out "• V2 Pleasant Scenes • ••. 13 Take Care, or Grandpas Advice j^ Ode to the Ocean • • • • • ' " 16 Lines on the Nevv ^ ear, lb/ y • • • * -^q Happiness - * 17 Home 18 War ;;: V :' ■ ;; 'iV !/ * " 20 gaI'a^-o?T;>e:;'^o,Y'i:'c:^?n'luVD;.V.-of-A;;u, Lang S.ne || Thanksgiving Day ■"'"•''"''' 26 Moll Dorv, or How He Won Her 29 Piscataquog Valley Fair **'.*.*'.* 33 Autumn • • • • • • • • //. 34 Mythelor, or the Mission oi Man ^ ^ ^ ^- Fred Farlo, the Farmer's Boy ^ ^ ^ ^y liueller, the Esquire's Son '!'.'.*.*.. 50 Neighbors of the Lowlands 53 Okf Miss Rachel !'.*.'.*.... 55 A School '\ 59 Christmas 60 Adam and the Apple 61 The Writing Pen 63 Old Times 64 Newsboy's Address . . . . ••;••; 66 New Years Address For^l842 gg New Year's Address 1843 ^ ^q The Tin Pedler of Olden Time '.'."*.'*!'.'.*... 75 A Soliloquy *.*.'.*.'.'.!!'..*!*.'. 80 Mauchester ' 82 Wealth .**.!*..... 83 A View oi Man .•••• 85 Agricolus, the Wandering i armer ^ gg The Little Boy .V.V. '.'.*.*.*!'.* *.'.*.. 91 Musings \ 91 The Aged Man 93 Past History of Man *.!*.*****.*.*.*.*.'.* 94 October ^