IRDS OF CROSS ..OCKHART THE HIHIIHIWIHI IttitiHeiiii HUH li! m m ■A mm HM iiilii Class f'y ^ZZf-^ Book . /,^^/^6- Copight»» Jf^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr THE BIRDS OF THE CROSS AND OTHER POEMS BY Arthur John Lockhart Author of "The Masque Of Minstrt-ls," "Beside The Nufraguagup," "The Heart on the Sleeve," "The Papers of Pastor Felix," Etc., Etc. Frinted And Published For The .A.UXHOR By C. R. Lougee TV^INTERFORT, TVEE. 1909 V Jf r> Copyright, 1909, by Arthur J. Lockhart, Winterport, Maine. ©CU2537U4 TO ^ylY BROTHER, Tl^e Rev, Burtoq W, Lockhart, D, D., OF MANCHESTER, N, H., I Inscribe This Volurrje. Thij' Hhadowy wings should darken all thy floor, Tho' thou must shiver in the vjinter cold ; Tho' hanger enter at thy unbarred door. And thou hast penury ivhen thou art old; Tho'' with a niggard hand thy bread be doled ; Tho' few thy pleasures, oft and keen thy paiyis ; ( Yet, having love within thy bosom's fold, While pity to thy famished heart remains;) If, when men suffer, thou canst feel their throes. And, when thou nought canst give hast yet a tear ; If God JtatJi made thee sharer of Man^s woes, — Tho' greater far thy sorrow may appear. Thou hast a priceless gift, he cannot hold. Whose Life is Pleasure, and whose God is Gold. CONTENTS The Birds of the Cross 9 What Profit? 10 The End of Song 11 Ah : Then? 12 The Difference 12 The Canada-Bird 13 Niagara 14 Why, War? 14 Song 16 Blind P:yes 17 A Toast 17 The Birth of Music 18 Oh, My : 18 On Linekin 19 The Way of Life 20 The Cliampion 22 Over the Hills Where Spices Grow 32 Presumption 34 When In the Maple Trees 34 "Courajre !'' He Said 35 The Call of the Sea 35 Bright Were the Hours 37 Faiths Voyager 37 Migration 38 Listen. O Land ! 39 Georsre Martin 40 Acadie 41 November W^ind 41 The Old Days 43 Mother 44 Awav, and Away 44 Breed s Hill 45 Shores 'f Mavooshen 46 Poe 48 Jaclc DaiKlelion 48 The Art of Tennyson 49 "March, im the Smith 49 A Couvivial Epistle 50 Birches 54 The Destined Hour 54 March fcJnow 56 The Departing Year 57 Lincoln 58 Uowe 59 O, Maiziel 60 ijpring's Freedom 60 To George Martin 61 Chaniplain 61 Tennyson 63 Violets 63 Home Discipline 64 O Be Thou Strong 64 Summer on the Penobscot 65 The Winds 69 Copernicus and Darwin 70 Light and Shadow 70 The North-West Arm 71 The Crystal Rill 71 Milton 72 Love s Expression 72 Lines, Written Under A Portrait 73 Repeat the Song 75 The Faith- Men 76 The World 78 Frances E. Willard 78 A Uallad of the Tliree Maries 78 A Song of Exile 81 The Happiest Kingdom 83 Theodore Harding Rand 84 April 85 Kroisos 85 Statesman and Poet 86 The Ships of the Czar 86 Juno's Favorite 89 Hymn For a Childs' Flower Festival 9o The British Flag 9l The Brook 95 The Hills of Scotland 96 104 105 106 107 119 119 Belle Borne Brook 97 ^ong 100 The Unrecognizt-d Poet 101 One More IO2 McFlierson's Entreaty 103 Cuba Hood Burns The Thrush The Doves IO7 Victoria lOg The Grave Within My Heart 109 The Epitaph of Keats HO This Also is Vanity HI When Doctor Luther Came II3 Kaca 114 The Making of Men II5 The Lonely Pine II7 To the bun Root and Blossom My Hope is in Thee 120 The Messenger 120 An Autumnal Hymn l2i The Lobsternian 124 To Jolin Imrie 126 At the Bethel 127 The Prisoner of the lies Du Saint 129 The Young Man, Absalom 129 War 130 Melanchthon s Watchword I3I At Hampden 132 Tho Cock and the Pearl I33 Chickadee I34 The Eaffle I35 Camp-Fire Memories 137 To Ralph Shaw 138 Who's Who ? 143 A Proper Spring-Song 144 The St<.ne Wall 145 Eugene Field 146 Wings 147 The Muses In Ville Marie 148 The Mafcing of xVlay 150 Eveleen 150 Zola 152 Terrill 153 The Whip-poor-will 154 The Murmur of the I'ines 15T The Spanish Armada 158 In Northumberland Strait 164 Dandelions 165 The Midnight Vigil 165 Mountain and Poet 169 An Autumnal Letter 170 Whittier 174 The Plea 175 Fellowship 177 Corn Of the Mountain 177 Palestina 180 To Madam Dreyfus 181 Hymn, Sung at the Dedication of Mary Moody Memorial Chapel 182 Sacer Jesu, Care Christe 183 Harmony Hall 184 Celestial Capers 188 Guidamac 191 Doctor Robin 193 Cant 195 Despatch 197 What Right ? 198 John Hay 199 God s Alchemy 199 The Men of Maine 200 Sonnet On Seeing the American Flag, To- gether With the Banner of England 202 Even There ! 203 Roosevelt 208 My Content 203 Down Tn Maine 204 To Titmarsh 205 The Autocratical Critic 205 The Mountain Pine 205 Speak, Then ! 206 Norwegian National Hynin 207 Hong of the Camper 208 Thanks, For the Years! 209 A Dirge, Under Pine and Palm 211 Marching JSong 215 Mother I Mother ! 216 Thanks, For Your Song 218 To Windsor, Nova Scotia 220 The Poet's Farewell 221 On A Spring Morning 223 In Arcady 223 Picking the Pears 224 Follow the Gleam 226 The Dream-Door 226 The Childless 228 To A Friend 280 Song, From Nehilakin 232 Under Death 232 O Mary ! 233 The Spur 233 Israfil 234 Frederick Lawrence Knowles 235 Lines In A Guest-Book 237 The Flight of Tyrants Envoy 237 THE BIRDS OF THE CRO^S. TT(5\HILE in his agony the Savior hung, \/\/ Three wandering birds alighted on His Cross : '' Sti/7'k ham ! Styrk ham I Styrk ham ! " the foremost cried ; ''Strergthen our Savior in this crushing woe !" It was the Stork ; and, ever since tliat hour, For strength and blessing hath that bird been named. Then cried the second, circling, in distress, '•''Sval ham I Svalham ! Sval ham / " yet again ; "' Refresh Him I "tis our suffering Savior dear! Behold Him dying- I '' 'Twas the Swallow spake ; And ever since that hour the sons of men Look on the Swallow with a loving eye. The Turtle-Dove came fluttering when she saw Our suffering Lord's distress, and softly cr-ed: '■''Ki/rie ! Oh, Kyrie I Oh, my dying Lord !" And dear the Turtle-Dove is to our lieart. The Cross-bill came, and made a loud lament. Twisting his beak to pluck the nails away ; And well that bird shall evermore be loved. Then darkly swept, upon ill-omened wing. One crying, — *' Pueii ham ! Puen ham I " harsh and long ; 10 Wb^f MlthB ®f ®I|]^ ^xmB. Punish and torture Him, who hangs accursed! That Arch-deceiver, bleeding on the tree ! " Then off he fiew : and, ever since tiiat hour, The Lapwjng flies, a crying, evil bird. Low over earth upon a halting wing. Be comforted, ye sympathetic souls ! Who to the pained your consolation bring. And to the hurt, your healing ! Joy to you, Ye cheerful souls, who scatter wide your cheer ! Ye pitying ones, be loved ; for ever dear The generous spirit is to pitying man. But woe to you, bird of the doleful cry ! And woe to you, scornful and saturnine, Vindictive and incriminative soul. Who makest thyself judge, and criest blame ! For thou art loved by neither God nor Mar, Nor findest mercy where thou hast not shown. fi WHAT PROFIT ? H ! what avails to gild, to consecrate a crime ? What profit, all the blood-stained gold the Destinies would grudge us, If, after all, we die, scarred and outworn with Time, And God shall judge us ? ©Iff MlthB ®! llff <&tmB. 11 What good, at last, that we heap gain on gain. Where woman's woe and childhood's want with treasure have endued us; If, at the end, there wait the everlasting pain — The curse of Judas ? Ah, why woo Iiate and wrath, instead of love? Why vex our fellow-men, and slight our God, and grieve him ? Wliy harden more our heart, while Jesus pleads above, — "Father, forgive him !'' THE END OF SONG. And singing on, triumphing, The old earth-mansion through Out marches the last minstrel; — He is the last man, too. Anastatius Grun. F SONG'S divine succession sweet, Say, can there ever be an end ? — Apollo's golden reign complete. The Muse's latest sonnet penned ? Nay, not while rosy Morning breaks, While Evening bathes her wings in dew; Not while from slumber Love awakes. And Heaven again makes all things new. Not till the Spring no more returns, And hushed is Robin's cheery note, And no man more of Summer learns From Bob-o -Ijincoln's madcap tliroat. Not while the Bluebird's carol still From winter thrills our grtening vale; Not while we kno'j^ our Whip-poor-will, Or England's Lark and Nightingale. Because our Shakespeare lies in dust. Because our Milton sings no more, Fails Song's supreme, immortal trust, — Is her harmonious mission o'er ? By all the passion of our heart, By all our yearnings, all our dreams, Suns may decline, and suns depart, — Still on the sacred lustre streams. Still iMusic lives for waking ears. Still Beauty glows for opening eyes : The bard, the minstrel, disappears, — The race of poets never dies. AH ! THEN ? TT(^HEN God the dust of my heart shall His Rose and His Violet to make, My Soul, that dearer is to Him, Shall brighten 'mid His Cherubim. THE DIFFERENCE. -^^OWE'ER we deem of this or that, yet X;^ know, ^ Much we t' Opinion, much to Custom owe. ^f ilff ^XBBB. 13 See ! yon Zenana-woman, passing by, Veiled, yet disrobed almost unto the thigh. Burns with the sense of shame at the disgrace Of her uncovered English sister's face ; While the pale lady, in austere dismay To meet her thus upon the public way, Exclaims, — "How dares she thus abroad to roam ! Why don't she dress herself, or stay at home?" THE CANADA-BIRD. Y^vOW the sweet-scented Cherry is snowing, ^"y' And red the Maple-keys are growing, ^ And golden the Dandelion is blowing, I listen to hear the silence stirred By the — siveet, siveet Canada-bird. Other birds are here, and their song is sweet, But the voices of Spring are not complete Till we hear him his golden notes repeat ; — Most liquid note ear ever heard. Of the — siveet, siveet, Canada-bird. O the world seems dark, and the range seems narrow Of our life when the wintry winds do harrow; But 'tis changed with the note of the first Song-Sparrow ! Our boundless, far-away dreams are stirred By the — sweet, siveet, Canada-Bird. B4s silver clarion exalts the day, And his music charmeth evening away,— 14 ®lfi^ Itrte (if ilfir €mm. Ay, niglit is broken by his glad lay ! As if he could never enongh be heard — Our — sweet, siveet, Canada-Bird. NIAGARA. Will it be a Niagara of wheel-pits and lail-races and factory-wastes ? J. Horace Mc Farland. Z TE VENP]RABLE WATERS ! that declaim \^ Of hoar Antiquity and deeds remote, ^""^ And from the hollow of that thundrous thioat Breath'st thouglit to put our shallow schemes to shame ! Before the Norsemen or Columbus came Westward across tir untried Atlantic wave ; A y, ere tlie Red Sea saw the guiding Flame That led the hosts of Israel, thou didst rave With thy eternal tongue of fuming waters ! And shall the mongering h.and of heedless men With scornful touch thy loveliness disdain ? Arise ! ye beauty- loving sons and daughters ! The Sovereign Spirit of this vocal glen Shall give you thanks out of his awful fane! WHY WAR? H, MEN ! wherefore Red-handed War ? Must West and East llfie Strte (©f ®t|f ®r000. 15 Haste to prepare The Raven's feast ? O Brothers ! Say, What need of fray ? The Christmas Chimes Forbid, to-day, This first of crimes ! For what Gold Fleece Break the World's peace ? Let Argo's sail, In Ganl, or Greece, For Love avail. Peace, broodingly Hold land and sea ! On sea and shore, Let brothers be Forevermore. O tongue ! be still, That bodest ill ! The bitter Star Flames with wild will In wasting War I Say, Britain ! Say, America ! Will ye be friends ? A royal YEA ! From heaven descends. Say, Germany ! And thou, Cathay ! And thou, Japan ! I hear ye say, We WILL ! We CA N ! SONG. ■OME, ye who love Nature, and ye who love Truth, And ye who renew the bright visions of youth, Who dream not of Sea and of Forest in vai». Come, seek the bold shores and green islands of Maine. Chorus : Come, Come, O ye weary ones, come ! There's balm in the winds and the waters of Maine. Ye brain-weary ones, pent in cities so long. Come, revel in meadows of Summer and Song; Wild rocks of Mavooshen by surfy seas chid. And a'll the delights of the calm Pemaquid. Chorus : Come, Come, O ye weary ones, come! And rest in the bosom of calm Pemaquid. Come, pensive and gay ones, come, youthful and old. Here are treasures uncounted, unpurchased of gold ; The glow of glad cheeks by the Sea's heaving plain. The light of glad eyes 'mid the wild woods of Maine. ll|f MuhB ((©f itjf @.xmB. 17 Chorus : Come, Come, O ye weary ones, come, Tliere's balm in tlie winds and wild waters of Maine. We will come, sweet Mavooshen, obeying your c{\ll ! You have lasting delights, you have pleasures for all ; To your bright fall'ng river, your ocean-beat shore. The hearts of your children must turn ever- more. Chorus : Come, Come, weary one, come ! The heart of Mavooshen gives welcome, once more. BLIND EYES. -^^YRANT and Demagogue refuse to see V^ The Star that ruled their fortune blaze and fall ; They madden, while the hand of Destiny Writes, '■'■Mene^ I'ekeU^' on their palace wall. A TOAST FoK The 25th of January. lios rules the morning sky, ithia leads the hosts of night, While a tear circles in the eye. TT(^HILE Helio VA/ While Cynl 18 ibf Itrte #! Mbt <&mBB. Wliile smiles make human faces bright; While blows the daisy, blooms the tli(;n), VVliile day or night can pleasure give, Wliile human hearts exult or mourn, While Joy and Song and Laughter live ; Wliile wakes the love of all things things fair, While hate of wrong within us — Bueks! Lift Hope's bright glass against Despair, And let our Toast be, Iiobin liarr, As often as the Day returns. THE BIRTH OF JSIUSIC* T T(5\ HEN and where was jNIusic born ? \/StJ When the Gods, on- one great morn, Gave to man a heart of fire, — Love, with infinite desire. Ages long Love wandered dumb, Dreaming of the time to come. Till the strong Gods, quit of wrong, Crowned her loveliness with Song. OH, MY ! TTOUNG CLERIOUS, so delicate is he, V3] ^o ostentatious of liis modesty, ^^ He thinks the coldest Venus far too warm, And scarlet blr.shed at Psyche's marble form ; He dubs Laocooji an image vile oh ! * These verses were wrftten l)y my brother, Rev. Bur- ton Welleslev Lockhart, D. D., nf Manchester, N U. Milt MlrhB W>f ilfi? ffira^B. 19 And gives an extra fig-leaf to the Milo. 'Tis liis prerogative to call attention ; But — there are things, you know, lue should not mention. ON LINEKIN. Went to Liiiekin. The guests are gone, and my gentle scholar. mu?ici;in, and fellow-poet gone with them. The beautiful scene is under a subdued lig-ht, as if a soul in nature mused over sombre legends, and the soft autumn sky is like atympanuM or great gray sounding-bell. Yon- der, the Baker cottage looks solitary indeed. In his home at Troy he ponders these frequent clear, delicious October day^-, and would fain spend them here. I can fancy the neat, trim cheerful man of greenest age, almost boyishly affected in the memory of summer days spent here, execu- ting a quickstep air.ong his books-, with a movement some thing like this. ^Jolrnal of P.\stor Felix. 1 T(5\nEN we were down on Linekin, \y\/ On Linekin, on Linekin, When we were down on Linekin, On Linekin, Linekin-lea, Then the welkin was clearest, cleanest, And the vernal grass gleamed greenest, And evening fell serenest. And the sun like a glowing ember Was tangled in the tree, — When we were down on Linekin, — And oh, how blest were we ! When we were down on Linekin, On Linekin, on Linekin, When we were down on Linekin, On Linekin, Linekin lea, O then tlie songs were so many, And the fields were so sweet and sunny, And our liearts were blitlie as any. And the world was so fair,— so fair! When we were down on Linekin, And Summer days were tliere. When we were down on Linekin, On Linekin, on Linekin, When we were down on Linekin, On Linekin, Linekin lea, Tliere was smiling and rejoicing. That wind and wave were voicing. Where brightsails were veering and passing, And like a maiden's tresses Flowed the glory of the sea. When we were down on Linekin, — And oh, how blest were we ! THE WAY OF LIFE. From the German of Goethe. Johan Wolfgang Von Goethe, the illustrious poet of Ger- many, was initiated into Masonry on St John's Eve, in 17S0 In 1S30 the Masons oi Weimar celebrated his Semi- centennial ; and the venerable Companion was pleased to honor them with a mark of his esteem in the form ot a po- etical composition. -^^OW typical the Mason's ways £^1 Of human life through changeful days! ^ Therein an analogue appears Of his persistence, while the years Speed on to that eternal state Forewritten in our mortal fate. il|[f Strte (©f ihf (ir0BB. 21 A misty sea, tlie Future hides Of joy and woe the changeful tides; But we will press straightforward still, To meet its thronging good and ill ; By all unswerved, undaunted, so We to our goal may forward go. And just before, in silent gloom, Stands the veiled portal of the tomb ; For high and low it doth await, — The end of human pomp and state : Where'er we pause, or onward fare, We know our march is ended there. In vain we ask, with yearning fond, The form of that which lies beyond: Interrogate them, as we will, The stars on high are silent still; Silent the graves, nor make reply The dearest lips therein that lie. While thou dost stand, with eager gaze, Come deep foreboding and amaze ; Illusive and phantasmal forms Disturb thy bosom with alarms : By doubts and strange misgivings vexed. Even the bravest are perplexed. But hear, O Comrade ! and rejoice, The Poet s and the Sage's voice ! From all tlie world, and from all time, Come their high messages sublime : Choose ivc.ll ; your clioice., though brief it be, Is endless as Eternity. Majestic E\es do you regard, And keep perpetual watoli and ward : Therefore, brave lieart, on Heaven re]y; His fullness waits to satisfy : Tlie Good that Is, your faith shall share; Work, love, and hope, and ne'er despair. THE CHAMPION. An Ode on Robert Burns. /^VAUNT ! ye spectral forms tliat start /^ From Fears dread thickets and lone hills, •^ Like bandits, to waylay the heart ! And ye, more frightful nor less shadowy Ills, Whose bruit the world with terror fills — Gaunt Famine, purple Plague, red War, and all The evils that our kind befall ! What Genius, swift, armipotent. Mastered by one divine intent, (Like Him, who rose in Galilee,) Shall grapple with these Ghosts, and set their victims free ? Yet not the Unseen Powers alone, On Earth their fateful measures pour; For Man will make his fellow groan. With lust of blood and golden ore ; ®ljj^ MuhB ®f ®l|f ®r0B0. 23 Nor ravin, fraud, intrigue, and blight, Are deeds al f)ne of Turk or Muscovite. All ! who shall vanquish, or restore ? Who shall the Spoiler cuib and dispossess ? Who shall bring back unto liis riglitonce more The Tiirall and Brother wliom lie would op- press ? Earth waits her champion long— so long! The Soul, most gentle, yet most strong ; The One, puissant, firm and wise. Who from tlie People shall arise. To flash the lightning of Truth's blade. And lead the last triumphant, grand Crusade, For our humanity by foes beset. He shall be one by suffering taught to feel. Till a heroic love it doth beget To make him Master of tlie Commonweal. So let him, angel-like, appear ! EarMi long has waited — slie is waiting yet : But when he comes he shall reveal The dawn of her millennial year. But One there was, of power and worth. Whom the high Gods armed and sent forth ; Soldier of Song and Priest of Love, was he, Who blew his golden tn.mpet in tlie North, And gave their watchword who still hope to see The liberation of Humanity. His blade was Song, — its edge you feel. As swift as light, as keen as steel ; And where it pointed, wliere it swept the way The happier legions marcli to-day, And climb the sunlit heights of Weal. Oh, happiest Bard ! most blest, for all thy woe ! Richest in joy, puissant in each thioe Of thy vicarious agony, thou art ! Immortal Youth ! in Scotia's morning glow Thou roseate standest, lifting every heart. And every place gives open door to tl)ee : Cottage and palace claim thee now, And men of high and low degree Live in the light of thy victorious brow. What Soul of Song is source of ampler cheer ! When thou dost at our feasts appear. And Mirth and Music rule the hour. The Winged Sisters cluster near. And hastening Time will pause to own thy power. Then will thy Brethren rise, without delay. And reach to thee the hand, and say, — " Welcome ! tliou tiller of the soil. Whom MossgieFs furrowed acres knew ! Thy soul, but not thy hand, is rich with spoil : What great thing is it thou a: t come to do ?" So might we hail tliee, could'st thou come From the long dust of Dumfries' tomb, Warm, radiant, in thy youtliful bloom ; With, not the simple wreath that Coila shed, ^f ®te fflr000. 25 But Time's arge laurel on thy head, And thine the splendor Song's high Masters may presume. At sight of thy majestic eyes Will not Fame's Senate all arise ? At sound ff thine inspiring voice Will not all hearts leap and rejoice ? Thou ever hast the surest way Of saying what our hearts would say ; And morning-dreams of youth return With Bonnie Doon and Bannockburn. We hear majestic voices that complain, — The thralls inglorious of titanic pain ; Hyperion, hurled from his throne ; And he, denied the light, with frenzied brain, Where Plilegethon flows on with an unend- ing moan. And some, exalted higli with star and sun. Dwell with the mountains and the seas alone, And flourish in the endless course they run. O mighty Spirits! born of flame And whirlwind, speak ye whence ye came! We glow and tremble at your tones ; Your mighty shadows throng the skies; What raptures lighten your glad eyes, What dolors darken, and what cries Break with the burden of infinities, — Promethean laughter, and Promethean groans. But you, ye ever-glorious train! 26 ®te MuiB ®ff Ukt fflr000. Draw sweet fi-Din e'en the bitter waves of grief, From biting frosts renew your gieenest leaf, And purest pearls distil from cankering jiain: From eidolons of darkiuss ye Evolve all shapes of grace and majesty ; Suns break out of your darkest frowns ; From your Caucasian toitnre-llironts Angels of music and of light Smiling descend: Jove's malison May trebly smite them ; bloom, as well as blight, Cometh their bolt-scarr« d brf»ws upon; Till, lo! each fire-stricken one Unveils to Man a beatific sight ! They agonize with sweet despair. Vast as the glory of their night ; Their crowns august they calm'y,brightly wear, As all their anguish were delight. Rapt, far aloof we scan each face : — These are the Titans of our race. Who byhig'i songs and mighty thoughts are known ; But One there is whose language is our own. Thine icy peak, Prometlieus, we dare. If Aeschylus, the bold, will lead us there; Exult, with Homer, in tempestuous seas, Or weep with warm Euripides ; With the unveilers of Tartarean woe, Down to the shadowy world we go, And, with pale ?>raro, softly tread The awful mansions of the dead ; H SIfie (&tmB. 27 Or listen to his voice of dread, Add brave the splendors of our own Maonides; Or bear vvitli him majestic part, And glow at his unrivalled art, — Sliakespeare, great scribe and master of the heart I Or we may scan the lurid glooms That the Dantean muse presumes ; Or mount vv^ith him where starry circles rise, To that most perfect of Celestial blooms, The mystic Rose of Paradise. Yet, hark ! there sounds from lowlier ground, a tone, So sweetly human ! — this we own ; No thunder of the Jovian rod, Nor groan of the crushed demigod, Nor plaint of martial hero overthrown. Ah, Barns ! when once thy hand is on the string, When once we hear thy clarion voice outring. There sounds a note we well may know — That burden of the Common People's woe: Lamenting now, that lot forlorn Whereto the toiling race is born. While tyrant lords consume, as rightful spoil, The fruitage of their painful toil; And now, exulting with the joy Of hearts that nothing can annoy, — Like leaping waters — Laverock shouting high, With rapture of a sun-bright destiny ; The Oracle and Advocate 28 W^t JiltM (®f ®I|f &tmB. Of those who have no language, bear: Their moan his ninsic can translate, Till sheep and dogs as human kind apjiear. His heart was wido and warm enough to shield The creatures crying from tlie field; And mouse and hare are understood, True fellows of one brotherhood. For oft he knew the evil hour, With bird and beast, and tree and flower. How piercingly he can express Man's indignation, INIan's distress ! Yet, when liis mounting soul is free From its great gloom and lieaviness, That purest aerial strain of native minstrelsy! O Voice of Nature ! Voice of Burns ! Back to its earliest love my wandering heart returns, And finds no Singer with a spell like thine. Who can forget what once from thee he learns, Or miss that soul-enkindlirig spur divine ! Convivial Souls must turn to thee, — A flower fresh-blown, a fountain free, — Music and Love's epitome ! "When Memory's sunset-censer burn!-;, When Joy with morning's beam returns, When Hope is springing from each spire and spray. When Sorrow weeps with Autumn gray ; When Winter tempests v»liir] the snows, W^hen wakes the Daisy, blooms the Ih^se; lf|f JMuM ®f Mi^f <&tmB. 29 When cronies round tlie evening fire Witli olden songs their liearts inspire, And give tlieniselves to niirtli and rhyme, As in that glowing elder time ; They can but turn, atfeelings springtide flood, To tliee, greatSoul! Bard of true Brotherhood! Whoever findeth thee receives The best tliat genial Nature gives: Thou bringest rain and evening dew, The odor of the liawthorn llower. The screaming of the wild curlew, The songster of the roseate bower, — Love's eloquent, persuasive power. Thou givest what is artless, native, true: The things most rare in poesy, Most rioli in life, — all, all are met in thee ! For Love's first Oracle art thou : Could Lesbian Sappho s eyes have looked be- yond Ilerage to thine, she would have owned thy plough. And been of thee, and not of Phaon, fond: Anacreon, from his laureat brow. Had laid his tribute at thy feet, — His song less varied and less sweet. That thrilling pipe whicli woke the Delphian vale. When found by thee, and blown — t/)ou know- est how — So wondrously, so charmingly, In Coila's ear, on Caledonian lea, To melt our bosoms it can never fail. Such was thy love and such thy matchless flame, The Sons of Scotia canonize tliy name ; For tl'ou and Nature art at one. And thou tliy Country's well-beloved son. Witli unf TREES ! your breezy tops uplifting, y/ O brooklet, that laughest by ! O rosy clouds, that at dawn are drifting Across a perfect sky! 36 il|i? MxhB ®f M^t (&tmB. Ye blooms, by my garden walks unfolding Your bosoms, glad and gay, Ye cannot longer my heart be holding. For I must be up and away ! For the Sea ! oh, the Sea! TheSea^ so deep and strong ! The Sea! the Sea! the Sea! It calls 7ne all day long. Then come, my friend, my connade dear- est, Whose mirth is mixed with mine, Who when I grieve art ever nearest, With smiles and tears of thine; And come, my own, my gentle lover, For dalliance ne'er delay; The hour of kisses and dreams is over, And I must be up and away! For the Sea, ! etc. For your sheenest page, O my sweetest Poet, When you give it to Summer and &ong. There's a glorious theme, did ye but know it. Where the whitening billows throng ! Tho' purple the hills in the haze of even, And sweet the vale with flowers, Tho' my garden be bright with the dews of heaven, Through all night's starriest hours; — Yet, the Sea! etc. Wilt Itrte ®f ®t|jr (Br0Ba. 37 RKIGIIT WERE THE HOUR^. ©RKtHT were the hours, and our hearts were j^lad and gay, Fair are tlie scenes, and they beckon us away ; Gentle and kind are the happy hearts we know; Then back again, when Summer comes, O let us go ! Chorus : We're coming ! we're coming, w^here the waves of Ocean flow ! To old Mavooshen's haunted shores again we'll go- Free as the winds, and as the waters free, Free as the birds, for a little while we'll be; Ply ball and bat, bid the little boatie row, Or spread at eve the shining sail as white as snow. Chorus : We're coming, etc. Then will we go, to remember we were blest, One to the East, and another to the West; But there shall be a light Cares cloud amid, — A shining lure to lead us back to Pemaquid. Chorus : We're coming, etc. FAITH'S VOYAGER. ^ ^ T CARE not how the wind may blow ! " So sang Faith's Voyager, one day; 'Twas in the Summer's golden glow, 38 ®te MlthB ffif ite §.xmB. When sleeping seas liis keel delay : Why should I fret if waves are still? Why hasten till He bids me go ? To linger is my Fatlier's will, And I am glad to have it so. " I care not how the winds may blow'' ! Erecting still a dauntless form, He sang, when white tlie seas with foam, Smit by the Angel of the Storm: " Why startle that the waves run higli ? Why blanch because the wind is wild? My Father holds them — He is nigh, And He can answer for His cliild. " I care not how the winds may blow ! '' O Mariner! Death's form doth sweep Between ye and the land ye love, And dark and lonely lijes the deep: Yet sang he: " Let the billows flow, Their roaring gulfs before me flee; My Father wills to have it so. And that shall be enough for me." MIGRATION. He guides me and the bird. Browning's Paracelsus. HALL I not find the way? shall I not hear I And know the summons, when my Lord doth call? When that must come to me that comes to all. Shall ncit Time's ancient mystery be clear? il|f ItrBa ®f W^t <^xmB. 39 The Swallow knows, before the fading year To liftlier wingagainstthe shadowy North ; The wild Swan knows his time, and sallies forth, before the snows and sleety blasts appear; The Salmon hears its voice in the lone pool Among the hills, and pants for the deep Sea: Shall I not liear His voice who calls for me? The meaner creatures err not: Thou shalt school My heart and train my spirit ; Thou shalt lead My Soul from Death's deep shadow, at her need. LISTEN, O LAND ! ISTEN, () Land ! To mine augury of fame: What august E>e hath scanned Thy broad States, nobly planned! What lips have spoken thy name, — CANADA! Wake, and arise! Thou shalt be great and free : Behold ! the shadows appear Of a race in high career To an unwrought destiny, — CANADA! Listen, O Shores! O Mountain, and Plain, and Sea! Ye peoples who her* abide. What marvels are prophesied, What hopes are cherished of tlice, — CANADA! Listen, O Land! Rise, and the word fulfil ! Let Destiny strike the hour When thy life-tree shall break in flower, At the height of thy noblest will, — CANADA ! GEORGE MARTIN. /^LADNESS was thine! Of al! the Sons of yWl Song None ever hailed me with a cheerier voice; Thou could*st rejoice with him wlio did rejoice. Or, standing Sorrow's weeping onrs among. Could st shed the furtive tear. To scan the page On which thy lines irregular were traced. Unseen by thy dim eyes, — 'tis still to taste Friendship's rare wine. The rhyme, the prov- erb sage. The mirthful sally,- each bespoke to me. Beyond all change, all doom or destiny, A generous nature, manly and robust. Would I again might see thee as of old ! Ah, would th' long, lonely silence thoucouldst break! Bui that benignant hand which once would take The pen, beneath Mount RoyaPs leafy gold Is lying pulseless in the silent dust. ^f Mlft <^mBB. 41 ACADIE. IKE mists that round a mountain gray Hang for an hour, then melt away, So I, and nearly all my race. Have vanished from my native place. Each haunt of boyhood's loves and dreams More beautiful in fancy seems; Yet, if I to those scenes repair, I find I am a stranger there. O thou beloved Acadie ! How, whensoever I think of tliee. Dull grow these skies 'neath whicli I range, And all the summer hills are strange. Yet sometimes ] discern thy gleam In sparkles of the chiming stream; And sometimes speaks thy haunting lore The foam wreathed 8ibyl of the shore. And sometimes will mine eyes incline To hill or wood that seems like thine; Or, if the robin pipeth clear, It is thy vernal note I hear. And oft my heart will leap a-flame. To deem I hear thee call my name. To see thy face with gladness shine, And find the joy that once was mine. NOVEiMHEK WIND. HEAR the dole of the wailing blast, Ere November's past; And I see the waves of a darkening sea Move restlessly. I 42 ffite ltr&0 ®f ®I|i^ @.tmB. The sense of woe do tliey impart (3nce more to my heart. I think of one wlio was often nigh, In the days gone by; Of the little white house on tlie slope of the hill, At Lockhartville. Together we slept, together we played 'Neath the larches' siiade. Together we fared, from May time to Yule, At the village school. Ah, me! it is seven and tliirty years, .. Since that time of tears. When that wild word came, on a wind blown by, Like a long-drawn sigh ; While of change and loss and mortal woe We wept to know. Then our first sweet babe disclosed her charms In her mother's arms; And the scene of her husband's nativity The bride might see. We have had our part of sorrow and tears, — And, — the Years — the Years! They bow us down, dear wife, and we mind Tliat dirge-like wind! Like frosted leaves we witlier, to-day, And our heads grow gray. Oilfj? Itrte ®f ilfj? fflr00H. 43 Our children are gone, our kindred are Scattered afar: And now, while November glooms and sighs, Doth a form arise; — A manly form, with an air of grace, And a youthful face. Ah, wife ! we know not the way he went. With liis brief life spent; What^sudden anguish, what dread despair, Then met him there! The seas are wide and dark and deep, Where he lies asleep; And the North wind sings a shuddering stave Over his grave. THE OLD DAYS. ;^H the Old Days, the dear Days, ^ How shine they now afar ! O who can tell these New Days How dear the Old Days are ? For there's never a Song of the Old Days But will bid the tears to start ; And there's never a flower of the Old Days But is treasured in our heart. Oh, the Old Days, the dear Days ! And can we hope to see Any, of all the New Days, So fair in their degree ? Fair, fair they were, those Old Days, We shall nevermore behold ! 44 ite 1 Yet Heaven sliines clear through tlie New Days, Thougli Eartli grew green in tlie Old. MOTH EH. Her \ ery memory is fair and briglit, And my sad thought dotli clear. Henky Vaughan. T T(^HEN leaden ills too oft my life oppress, \KJ And gloomy thouglit the sunny will dis- place, Tlien rises star-like, for my grief "y redress, Motlier serene, thy patient, ciieeiful face, Lighted with somethin; of supernal grace. With gentle, mild rebuking of my folly ; Teaching thy child, — of all his brooding race The one most given to musf^ful melancholy, -- That Hope and Courage are Life's central stars Set in Love's skies to guide the wanderer's way; While o'er each cloudy doubt, o'er passion- wars There shoots triumphant Faiths eternal ray: JSo may I take into my fainting hea;t Peace from that cordial liosoni where thou art. AWAY AND AWAY. ^waY and away to the greenwood ^ \way with the Swallow and iiee ! Away with the Hours, to revel in flowers, With the Hrook to welcome me ! Away, to a child's soft cradle, Under the purring pines, .\nd the budding brake with carols awake, When the lyric morning sliines ! t oijk fflrjni00. 45 Away, 'mid tne surf of sunset, And tlie ptirple-niisted vale, To the g.)lden rents of the cloudland tents And the seas where tlie cloud-ships sail. Away from fagging and iuim-drum, From being hurried and hurled, All dinned and dreary, till my lieart is a- weary Of that ."Sorrow they call, the World ! Let nie drencli my brain in tlie dew-fall. Let me fire my heart with tlie morn ; Then these megrims gray, and these spec- tres, away Shall be swept with a royal scorn ! UKEED'S HILL. I h;id a dieam on a recent inorsiing-, in which I seemed t'> be ascendinuf a hill, when I met a man who stayed to speak with me, and who said — " Know you this place, and what has been done here ? This is Hreed's Hill." Upon awaking, with these wo; ds in menory the following lines were co;:. posed . T^NOW you this place? The thoughtless jN pass it by, (^ Nor ask upon this soil what deeds were done, — What majesty the ' all-beholding sun,' Has seen outflame from our mortality. They were plain men, who were content to die. (jrray are these sombre stones; the bare hilllies 46 U^t MlxhB ®f ®I|]? €tmB. Only a common scene to connr.on eyes, And no one turns, while still the throng goes by. They hear no sound of tumult as they go ; They know not tlie fierce joy, the liigli career Of those who triumphed on that glorious morn : Their thoughts wliirl not with the vast tides that flow Through struggling souls, — tlie rapture, hope and fear. The agony, where nations are new-born. SHORES OF MAYOOSHEN. In the Summer of 1903 a company of Summer visitors were gathered together at Pemaquid, who formed what was known as the "Pemaquid Club," with a complete outftt of Constitution and Bye-laws. Initiation fees, duep, and all that goes to a properly-constituted society, even to a poet, and in part an original Song-book, to which the present writer was a principal contributor. It was proposed that a continuous membership should be held, and that the company should meet from season to season in the same place. Like many another fair project, however, it came to naught, and the members were presently scattered far and wide. The following is the first of the Songs, written to popular airs, which formed a feature of that merry and convivial Summer, and were sung amid the green woods and along the rocky shores of that most romantic portion of Lincoln County. Scattered throughout this volume are several lyrics that formed a part of that collection. Mav- ooshen is another Indian name of the district called Pema- quid. 'TT^O the joys of old Mavooshen ^) When suns of Summer shine. With the lullaby of waters. ll|f Itrte ®f Wfi? fflr000. 47 A.nd whispers of the pine; With whispering of tlie pine Wliere the wave of Ocean roars! — Oh I the fair fields of Mavooslien, And the bonny winding shores! To the lionies of old Mavooshen, With friends tliat there we knew. The souls care-free and joyous, The warm hearts and the true; — Ay, tlie warm hearts and the true, And each laughter-loving eye, Where tlie Summer winds blow softly, And the waves make soft reply. On the green hills of Mavooshen How sweet to sit and dream Of many an olden legend Beside thy slieltered stream! — Thy gurgling, glimmering stream; Or, wliere the surf leaps high, Watch the white-wing'd ships, at even- ing, Go softly sailing by. O ye green liills of Mavooshen! Ye lovely Summer dream, Where sang, 'neath plashing oak-leaves, Tlie Spirit of the Stream; — Of the merry winding stream, -And the echo-haunted shore! Oh, ye rocks of old Mavooshen, VVith the billow bursting hoar! 48 ffllff MlthB (§f Mi^^ €tmB.. m. POE. I HEN shall we see thee, clear of fog and mist That en-, ions souls so long have round thee thrown ? When Clirist shall say to each vain moralist, — Let him who haf/i no .sin cast the first stone. JACK DANDELION. WRITTEN IN A CHILDS ALBUM. SOLD JACK DANDELION,— tine little fel- low ! Arose at dawn in his bright vest of yellow; He went early to bed, and was early to wakt-n; Yet scarcely had he his dewy bath taken. And scarcely had he his early prayer said, Whenarattlinglawn-mowerswipedoff his head Oh, bo! what a fate for a heart so mellow As young Jack Dandelion, — poor little fellow ! But Jack belongs to a dauntless race. So he came right up in the self-same place, And stood there straight with the stuffiest, With a pleasant smile, in his yellow vest: He couldn't be daunted, — no, not he ! And he took everything so joyously. With as cheery a face, and a smile as mellow, — Just like Jack Dandelion, — brave little fellow ! llff Itrte ®f iHfj? fflra^Bo 49 THE ART OF TENNTSON. 18 writ of him, Perfection is his prai«e: His is tlie splendor of a sunset sea; His is tlie odorous pomp of Summer days, And mingled glories, all of higli degree. i MARCH, IN THE SOUTH. FROM THE FRENCH OF GAUTIER. ET, where changeful Man is found, Nature walks her ancient round: March, wlio laughs at all our cares, Secretlj' the Spring prepares. Slyly, ere the daisies peep. Waking from their winter sleep. Comes the P^ormer of the buds, Chiseling their golden studs. Cunning dresser ! on he goes, Under vineyard, orchard-close; With his swan's-puff snowily Powders every almond tree. Nature in her bed reposes, While he goes among her roses, Lacing all their new buds in Corsages of velvet green. While he solfeggios sings To the blackbirds, — lo! he flings Snowdrops to the greening meadows, Violets to the purplin^j shadows. By the side of cressy brook. Where the stag with startled look 50 iljif Itrte (if ®l|j? &.tmB. Ceases drinking, lie compels Scented lilies' silver bells. Rude witlioiit, but deft witliin, He hath arts our love to win; Winter's hand he gently looses, Jocund guests he introduces, Soon— liis secret work complete — Aprils coming dotli he greet : '' Dearest Montli ! " he smiling says, '' Bringin Sp: ings delightft 1 days I'' A CONVIVIAL EPISTLE. WRITTEN IN THE DORIC MANNER, AND KKAD AT A REUNION OF FRIENDS, AT ORRINGTON. :^^E.\R Friens, onc«' more with homely lays \^)) I greet you, as in other days. When I, too, trode the sweet byways Of Onington, And in the thrifty Farmer s praise -My rhyme-webs spun. And ken ye not that auld braw time, — When Uncle Gregory rade sublime His mirth-mad hobby, in his prime, Wi' witchi!ig an, — I gie'd ye sic a screed o' rhyme, Fresli frae my heart? An' there we sat, rejoic'd to see Our Robie* share the social glee, As wit and song and poesy Were pour'd at call, * Ex-Go veriior Robie. present on the occa^ion alluded to, in company with 'Uncle Ed. Gregory. 'and 'Aunt I.izzie.' il|f Strte (if ®I|f fflr00Bo 51 To dedicate with brave .soiree Your new Grange Hall Your liard, since that auspicious day Has daundered far upon his way ; Yet memory o' that joyous May Dotli backward bring "" A touch of blitiie vitality Upon its wing." Where now are thaeauldfrien's we knew? Gone, ' Uncle Ed, ' — ' Aunt Lizzi e,' too; And niony, vanisli d frae our view Shall come nae mair; Wha ance we held baith leal and true, Our mirth wad share. Dear grows the past as time outrolls, To all our retrospective souls ; Our sunsets glow like living coals, Low 1' the West ; And with the rainbow's stripe our goals Of stcum are drest. Ah, what a world we lived in, then ! In ink of gold Love dipped his pen To write a fiery lyric, when Life's sun was high! Hope's echoes, upon hill and glen, Could never die. Then Love and Youth breathed their di- vine Music thro' waterfall and pine, 52 . iff]? 3uhB ®f ®I|i? €tmB. Thro' rustling corn, thro' fields a-shine Wi' lisping grass ; While Fancy flowery wreaths wad twine Each day for us. ' The Springtime made the wc>rld anew; The sky had sic a matchless blue! The rose had sic a glorious hue! The lilies sprung, Wi' sic a heavenly grace, to view, When we were young! And when the fields were daisy-white, And meadows knew the dear delight Of Bob-o'-Lincoln's laughing flight. Our childhood had, With whip-poor-wills thro' the brief night Cause to be glad. When swelling ships in full-sail'd pride Sailed up upon the opening tide, Sweet, on yon cliffy river-side, Frae her green bower To bear that modest vernal bride, Th' arbutus flower ! But shall our puling rhymes deplore, That some of us, at near th ree-sccre, Are laughing girls and boys no more, Wi' youth a' spent; Or ring the changes, o er and o'er, Of discontent ? Nay ! we'll do nae sic thing, forsooth! — Sit, wi' Achilles in his booth, ®I|i? llrte (if ©If]? €r00;0. 53 And grumble, like a grumbling tooth, In fitful rage? Nay, better than a verdant youth A green auld age. Tho' blauts o' hail the Storm-fiend flang, Our Oak o' Life is stout and Strang, His green leaves yet about him hang, His sap mounts clear; We may be gude to delve and dang. Yet mony a >ear. When young and auld are metthegether God gie ye cheerie heart an' weather ; Keep hats and feathers in fine feather. While y' shake th" wa' Wi' speech an' sang, bustle an' blather, 'Round your Grange Ha'. Ripe strawberries, — the girls will hull 'em, An" bring fresh cream, to mix and mull 'em ! Coffee an' steaming tea, — I smell 'em ! — Buns, piping hot ! Come, frae your cavern of Adullam, Wi' that bean-pot ! But bring you forth a smiling face, The round of social chat to grace ; Of maugre looks be there nae trace, Till a' be done: The Farmers are a cannie race, But must ha© fun. 54 (il|f MlthB ®f ®l|i? €tmB. An' guid frien's, let me wluis})er tae \,e How verra gladly I'd be wi ye ! — O jolly dough-mits — juist to pree ye ! — It niayiia be ! But, guid folk, thri' ] canna see ye, Hae tliocht for nie. Juist now the supper-bell they lang : Syne, ere ye gae yer ways alang, YeMl ablins sing a little sang, — Ive heard that same : Then, like guid childer, ye may gang Straught awa' hame. BIRCHES. WALKED a winding road to-day, Bordered with silver birches ; To bear sweet odor far away The wind their covert searches: O Ladies of the wildwood shade ! Your human sisters, dressing In perfumed robes, have often made Such soft and sweet impression. THE DESTINED HOUR WRITTEN WHEN ILL AND ABSENT FROM HOME. ©DAY ! that must so surely come, — Thou dreaded, thou mysterious, Day ! When sound of Earth shall cease, Earth's lips be dumb, And when my Soul must rise and haste away. From journeying over land and sea, My heart returnetb home again ; ®l|i? Itrte (®f ©Iff <§.xmB. 55 \ longer, stranger pathway waits for me, A bourn eternal — be it bliss or pain. O Day ! (rod hideth from my sight ! Wliat seer thy coming may foretell ? Whetiier, the darksome messenger of night, Thon ring'st for me an unexpected knell ; Or, angel-like, at opening day, Thon comest, with a fairer dawn, To herald my nndannted Soul away, "^Vhere my belov'd, familiar ones have gone. O Day, of all my days to me ! Where wilt thou lay my drooping head? Shall I her face, who most hath loved me, see, While prayer is made and softening tears are shed ? Or, cast afar, a stranger lone. Surviving all most loved and true, Must I breathe out my solitary moan. And unlamented bid the earth adieu ? (3r, of my household group the first. May I be called to take my leave, — To bless the wife I love, the babes I nurs'd. Disguising sorrow that might make them grieve ? Shall I be led to painless sleep, And gently pass to rest supreme ? 56 ite Itri^ ®f ®I|]^ &TmB. Or partas(^uickly as from yon blue (l«ep, When black with cloud, slioots down the piercing gleam ? Or, sapped by loatlily-diawn di^east, .Shall I, in long-enduring pain, Pray, with a feeble cry for woes surcease, And long to break my half-divided chain ? Ah, God ! tliou know-st — Thou, al<»ne ! And well such knowledge dwells with Thee ! For hearts were chill as ice, or hard as stone. If all they fear they Imd the skill to see. Or, saved from fears to lonely dreams, Then aimless all my days might be ; Listless, my feet mipht rove by haunted streams. Shrinking from converse and society. Yet come, O Day ! as come thou must ! If then my Savior drawetli nigh : Lay this poor earthly mansion in the dust. If then His hand shall lift me to tlie sky. MARCH SNOW. ^T^IS morn, and still the 'hoary meteor' flies; (^ All through th<' night's deep silence it descended; In it's immaculate beauty now the skies And the hushed eartli are buried deejt and blended. iifje Itrte (if TO|]? €r00^. 57 The year hath not beheld a wintrier scene! The flaky softness buries all below: The hoary elms forget their wished-for green, Windows and walls are battened with the snow. Now tiny puffs curl from eacli marbled roof, And eddying downward sink the flal^es to rest; The Winter "Spirit hovers yet aloof, To breathe a benison on Earth's wan breast. The piled down on the apple-boughs that lay. Smithy the breeze in playful gusts is spun: Rises the wind, and whirls the drift away; And, ringed with swirling cloud, yon breaks the sun! THE DEPARTING YEAR. ^ PECTRE ! that stealest by, (^\ While midnight toUeth slow, ^— ' With frosty, tearless eye. And torch inverted low; Thy step was once so light, Thy face so smiling bright! Set free — Depart, thou haggard ghost, for none will weep for thee! Spectre ! thou wanest now ! Thou, too, so lov'd and fair — No more. . . We crown his brow Who treads morn's starry stair. Thou, — veil'd thy face in woe, — Down Midnigbt's postern go: Pass on, Like ghost at crow of cock, before the peep of dawn. Spectre ! thine lioiir is past, Though Love thy name endears ; Our face is set, at last. To light of coming years: Thy song was sweet, — "tis sung; Thy lute is now unstrung: Wlien o'er Our prime of power, tlien we can court and charm no more. Spectre ! whose band did touch My heart, I prize tliy lore: Thy parting robe I clutch, I press thy hand once more : For sorrow (,f thy worth. Spirit ! I go not fortli To cheer With those wlio welcome in the roseate, youth- ful year. LINCOLN, HE PATRIOT, patient, pitiful, and pure; I Martyr to Justice and to Liberty: This is his gift — the Union stands secure; This is his praise — the millioned Slave is free ®Ijf StriB #f M^t fflr000. 59 HOWE. The Hon. Joseph Howe, Publicist, Editor, Orator, and Poet, wa-i born at the Northwest Arm, near Halifax, N. S., December 13, 1S04; and after a useful and brilliant career, in which he engaged the affection an^ admiration of his fellow-countrymen, and of many in other lands, he died at Government House, Halifax, while Lieutenant-Governor of hjs native Province, June i, 1S73. His statue, in the at- titude of addressing his constituents, — a highly character- istic one, ^—stands in front of the House of Assembly, the chief theatre of his career, and the place of his many tri- umphs. The references in the text are chiefly to the titles and subjects of his poems. TT(^HILE hangs the empty nest on leafless \kj bough, While flow the pleasant streams of Aca- die, While Stewiacko's vale is cloven by the plough, Or May-flowers creep beneath the budding tree; While sunset gilds Chebucto's summer sea. And bloometh white the cherry's wilding bough, While robins sing, — forgotten cannot be, The name of Joseph Howe. While ships sail westward from Britannia's shore, Bearing the voyager swiftly to his home; While skims the skater the lake's bosom o'er. Or the brown Micmac loves the wood to roam ; While Sable's sandy shore is swept with foam, Or Melville Isle lifts its forbidding brow; 60 ®te S!r&0 ®f