■^immmmm THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES /^ ,//^ u I — • ^44/^/" /j;^ pOEn^S :^l]D g01](5S. WRITTEN IN SPARE MOMENTS BY MRS. A. |OM:S. ASHTON-ON-RinBLE. There are many precious moments too often thrown away, Which, if we would improve them, we should find another day ; Wo do not know the future, nor what we may require, But for what we have the talent we always may aspire. These few and simple versos, in spare moments have been penn'd. And that any one who reads them will their kind indulgence lend. Is the earnest hope of The Authoe. SECOND EDITION. PRICE 16; POST FREE 19. COPIES MAY BE H^VD FEOM — The AirrHOR. A. Joxes, AsHTON-ON-RrBBLE ; Mr. BeATTIE. PHOTOGEAPirEE. FiSirERGATE, XEAE THE StATIOX, PeESTON ; Me. Woethingtox, Statioxee, Ftlde Road, Peeston. COPYRIGHT. PBESTON PRIXTKD BY E. PAKJaNSOX AND CO., BBIDOE STREKT WOKKfl. isyo. I Comnumicntion rcccivc^ b\> the 'jHuthorcss. ^ >- 4 fe>l I BUCKINGHAM PALACE, I -f.il May 27th, 1890. - "" General Sir H. Ponsonby is commanded by the QUEEN to I ^ _ thank Mrs. Jones for her letter of the 23rd Inst, and for the copy of her Poems. EXTRACTS FROM OTHER LETTERS. From Sir Evan Morris, Mayor of Wrexham. The Priory, Wrexham, 14th June, 1889 Dear Madam, I am obliged by your letter and appropriate verses on Her Majesty's visit to Wales, and with your permission, will have them published. ^ I am. yours truly, Mrs. A. Jones, EVAN MORRIS. Ash Gr6ve, Ashton-on-Ribbie. St. John's College, Grimsargh, 12th July, 1SB8. Dear Mrs. Jones, Your poems are unique, simple, and beautiful. T. ABBOTT PETERS, M.A., Principal Calder Mount, Garstang. Dear Madam, I am pleased with the kindly and Christian spirit which pervades your book. Yours sincerely, CHARLES WILSON. Brooklands, Ashtonon Ribble, 12/1 1/89. Dear Mrs. Jones, In my opinion your verses possess considerable artistic merit, in proof of which I send you a written order for twenty copies if you conclude to have them printed and published. Believe me, yours truly, W. CALDERWOOD. We have received a copy of a volum.e of poems and songs (Preston, R. Parkinson and Co.), by Mrs. A Jones, of Ashton-on-Ribble. The Dook is dedicated to Lord Winmarleigh, and the Queen has just accepted a copy of the work. Some of the poems would do credit to an author of considerable pretensions. A great variety of subjects are dealt with — many of them of local interest — and the author has sought to give simple and direct expression to her thoughts Her work is free from any affectations or extravagances of style. At times her muse halts a little, but her love of nature is genuine, and the sentiments she expresses — often with much felicity — are simple and sincere. Q dT^ -4 O >• i^ Preiton Herald, May Jist, i8go. DE9IC(^TE0 BY PERMISSION eiic" TO hm^ WlF)W)JlHhEmf{ BY THE AUTHOR P R E F A C*E It is with oontsiderable diffideuce I lay my little volume of Poems aud Songs before a discriniinating public, but with the hope that they may be apjireciated by mauy, who, like myself, have not had the advantage- of a literary education. I am fullv conscious they have graniiiiatioal defei ts ; but they are the production, the simple and natural tlioughts of one bom and reared amid the rural scenes I have attempted to describe, and which I found a source of extreme grai *iou to occuiiy my spare moments, which was my only objec. u I commenced writing them. On the advice and encourage --nt of my friends, frum whom I have received many flattering ackuowledgiiicuts, I send them forth to ihe world, with the hope that they may meet with a favourable reception from the very numerous class of readers to which I belong, and who prefer simplicity to those of higher merit. Hoping they may find a re- sponse in the hearts of many who are loyal to their Queen and country, also those who admire nature in all her various phases, and give th^ reader the same amount of enjoyment they have done the writer. A. JONES. Ash Grove, Ashtonon-Ribble, February 1st. 1800. CONTENTS. The Hkir of Wixmaeleioh On the Birthday of Hek Majesty Qltjen Victoria A Soxo OF Welcome to Qiteen Victoria on Her Visit to Wales ... Ode to the Primrose . . \ Lament for the River Ribble Boating on the Dee, in the Month of June The Sanctity of Maebiaoe There are Moments . . The Beauty of Earth HiVPPY Homes The Croaker Ode to the Thrush . . Greetings to Mrs. CtL.vdstone in Italy Oh I LET us be Happy The Blind Girl to her Mother Lines on the Death of a young Friend, aged 22 The Silver Wedding . . May . . A Bride stood at the Altar Reflections on a visit to St. John's College, Grimsargh Lament of the Counthss of Leicester in Cumnor Castle A Merry Heart Spring The Holly . . Winter To the Daisy Resignation . . page. 1 6 7 8 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 18 21 22 28 24 26 28 29 32 34 35 36 37 38 40 CONTENTS.— Co«/i«wrf PAGE The Song of the Weaver 41 A Poem ox Tea 42 The Dying Child 43 Memoeies of Home . . 44 LrvE IN Love 45 Old Memories 46 Lines Addressed to Penwortham Church 47 A Floral Bouquet . . 49 The Wood Nymph 50 Day-Break .. ., ., 51 Love's Influence 52 I'll think of Thee . . 53 The Patriot's Farewell to Erin 54 In Memoriam 55 Inconstancy . . • •• . ■ 56 The Sailor's Return.. 57 My Soijjier Boy • 58 The Cloud with the Silver Lining 59 Lily 60 May-Day 61 A Summer Evening . . 62 The Faded Lily 63 Cradle Song . . 63 Polly Watkins . . . . ^ . . 64 AlLEEN 64 The Squire and the Maid 65 A Morning Serenade . . 66 My Mary 66 My Nelly 67 The Flower on the Wye 67 The Milk-maid 68 A Story op Ants 69 Beautiful River 73 To the Skylark 74 Come Jessie . . 75 Berwyn. North Wales 75 GWENDOLIN. the MiT.T.ER's DaUGHTBE . . 77 What is Life 'r 79 COHT'EN'TS.— Continued. PAGE The Snowdrop S2 A SoNO OF Praise 83 Ingratitude . . 84 A Braw Lad is Jammie 85 The Loveliness of Nature 8n The Good Shepherd ... 87 The Sono of the Fairy 88 The Pet Thrush S9 CoiTUTRY Scenes and Pleasures no The Law of Kindness 92 The Bird's Nest 93 BiELEY Wood 94 Onward 9G To THE Brook % 07 The Blackbird's Song 9« The Lord's Prayer . . 99 The Orphan Girl to her Mother in Heaven . 100 A SONO FOR THE B.V2CD OF HoPE 101 Effects of Disobedience lO'i Eniosia 103 • POEMS AND SONGS. THE HEIR OF WINMARLEIGH. Glad was the day, Winmarleigh's heir, His grandsire's hope and pride, Became of age, rejoicings were Kept up on every side. Friends and tenants, servants too, All met to wish him joy ; The aged lord looked on with pride, And blessed his noble boy. "With costly gifts friends came from far, And kindest wishes poured Upon the youthful soldier's head, — Winmarleigh's future lotd ; And banners waved on tower and hall, O'er that gay festive scene : To many on those broad domains, It seemed a fairy dream. The tables groaned beneath the weight Of viands rich and rare ; The noblest of fair England's sons, And daughters, too, were there. And many tillers of the soil, With honest heart and hand, Whose locks had grown a silvery white, On brave Winmarleigh's land. 2 POEMS AND 80NG.S. The son anl sire, sat side l>y side, Around the festal boarl ; And every bold yeoman there, Was glad to call them lord. The noble matron on their right, L«)okod on her soldier son ; And thank'd kind heaven fur sending her That loved and only one. "With happy hearts, they all enjoyed, That l)anqnet and lair scene ; And toasts were drunk right royally. To country, and their Queen. Commerce, and agriculture, too, In that baronial hall, "Were toasted : and at night they all Enjoyed a splendid ball. Sweet strains of music echoed through Those chambers long and wide ; And all went merry, as if fur A young and happy bride. The scion of that grand old home, — Last of Ins noble race, "Witli gracious words and genial smiles, Right well adorned his place. And for the children of the schools, A sumptuous feast was spread ; And with their cheere the welkin rang, Ere they went home to bed. Old Punch and Judy, too, ^ere there, To entertain the young ; And lantern, with its magic slides, Made merry all the throng. POEMS AND SONGS. And of fireworks in the evening, — So grand was the display, That neither old or youni'; will e'er, Forget that gala day. The aged lord with silvery locks, Was happiest of the band ; lie moved among his noble guests : A Very king so grand. * « 9 • • A year has passed : a mournful gloom Hangs o'er Winmark-igh now ; That cherished darling helpless lies, The death damps on his brow. With tend'rcst care his mother soothes His sullerings day and night ; But e'en a mother's love could not Put th.it dread foe to flight. The yt)Uthful heir was doomed to leave His heritage so grand ; The mournful tidings sent a thrill Of gloom throughout the land. All hearts went out on that sad day Unto the aged lord ; When lifeless they brought home his son He looked, but spoke no word. His prop, his pride, his hope was gone : He bravely bore the blow ; And meekly bow'd^to the decree Of Him who will'd it so. In state they laid him in the room, That one short year before, Echoed with festive joy and mirth : The gayest he was there. POEMS AND SONGS. They bore him gently to the tomb, For ever there to rest ; His hehnet and his sword were laid, Useless across his breast. Uad he been spared he might have won. His grandsirc's honoured fume ; But now, alas ! he's gone ! the last Of that illustrious name. Bright floral wreaths of every hue, Were sent from far and near, To grace that fair youth's burial : Beloved by all so dear. Alas ! alas ! for human hopes, How frail to lean upon ; Exultingly we see them near, We grasp them : they are gone i He'd gained the love of high and low, If spared to them he'd been ; His loyal purpose was to serve His country and his Queen. But in the morning of his life, His bright young spirit fled ; The youthful heir of Winmarleigh, Was numbered with the dead ! Mysterious are the ways of Him, Who doeth all things well ; We may not question His designs, His wisdom or His skill. But in submission meekly bow. And trust His saving grace ; No cross to bear, no crown to wear, When we shall see His face. POEMS AND SONOS. 5 ON THE BIRTHDAY OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA. Year of Jubilee. Again with joy and gladness, the natal day appears, Of our gracious sovereign lady who has ruled us fifty years ; Each one has added greatness to our country and our Queen, Long may she live to bless us, in our hearts she reigns supreme. The bells ring out their joyous peals, on this her natal morn, Earth was clothed in richest beauty, when our gracious Queen was born ; In the gladness of the Maytirae began her noble life, — Her every thought's been duty, as Maiden, Queen, and Wife. On castle, hall, and tower, banners float upon the breeze ; And her loyal sable armies, far away across the seas, Assemble in their forces to display their strength and might.,— Ready, eager, able, to put all her foes to flight. Although a mighty monarch, to her subjects she's a friend ; Her tenderness and sympathy is noble, great, and grand ; She moves among her people with dignity and grace, And with perfect adoration they look upon her face. Millions will bless and greet her with loyal hearts to-day, — All nations' tongues and people for her safety ever pray ; To the humblest of her subjects she lends a list'ning ear, And will strive to heal their sorrows, and wipe their bitter tear. She is great in her dominions, her glory and her power, But a little child might lead her to the suff'ering and the poor ; How many eyes grow brighter with the thought that England's Queen, To make their burdens lighter, 'neath their humble roof had been. POEMS AND RONfiS. God bless our Qaeeii and country ! and may each passing year, "With honour, peace, and plenty, our hearts and homes still cheer God bless the olive branches ! that round about her shine, "With length of days and happiness, with peace and love divine. A SONG OF WELCOME TO QUEEN VICTORIA, On Her visit to Wales. August 24, 1889. Arise, arise, lift up your hearts and voices, Ye sons of Cambria let the echoes ring ; Unfurl your banners on your towers and nionntliins, Give to yuur Queen a royal welcoming. Chorus— Shout, shout, till all the mountains echo. Your songs of welcome to our gracious Queen. Ye joyous bells ring out your peals of gladness. In loyal welcome to our Queen to day ; Ring, ring, triumphant peals for India's Empress, "Whose sable millions homage to her pay. She comes to "Wales, not conquering, or to conquer : Peace and good-will reign in her heart supreme ; Minstrels, come tune your harps, and swell the chorus In joyful welcome to our gracious Queen. Long hath she reigned, and long may she reign o'er us Plenty and peace still flourish in our vales. God bless and save our gracious Queen "Victoria ; And bless her noble son, our Prince of "\^^ales. • POEMS AND SONGS. ODE TO THE PRIMROSE. In Memoriam to the late Earl Beaconsfield, WHO DIED April 19, 1881. Beautiful primrose ! whose homo is the bowers, Where the niglitingalc sings to thy odorous Howeis ; Alone in thy beauty like stars in the sky, Thou bringest glad tidings that spring time is nigh. By rippling strcanilets, in for at and dell, Where all is sweet peace thou delightest to dwell ; Where the thrush o'er thy soft couch pours forth his lay, And awakes thee from slumber at dawning of day. Beautiful primrose I how welcome thy fluwers, When tiiou returnest with spring's balmy hours ; Lowly and simple thy pale starry blooms, But welcome and prized in the proudest of home s. Many will wear thy sweet blossoms to-day, In memory of him who hath long passed away : A sweet silent tribute to England's great Earl, No need for her people their flags to unfurl. Beautiful primrose ! the great ones now roam To seek for thy blooms in thy fair woodland home ; Thy patron hath made thee a name in the land. Great as the rose, or the broom* can coumiand. When they bore him at last to his eternal rest, A wreath of thy blossoms was laid on his breast ; Fresh with the dewdrops, and gentle spring showers, Loving hands placed on his bier thy flowera. • Plantagenet. 8 POEMS AND SONGS. Thou art brought from thy humble but soft mossy bed, As a tribute of love to the mighty one dead ; Queens and princesses scorn not thy birth, Thou wert the beloved of the noblest on earth. He went to his rest when thy blooms were so bright, "With the genial day, and the dew-drops at night ; And garlands we'll weave of them now to his name, And lift up our voices in songs of his fame. Thy lovely pale blossoms were much more to him, Than simply a flower by the river's cool brim ; He felt that to raise up our thoughts thou wert given. And make us more fit for a bright home in heliven. Then hail to thee, primrose ! and hail to the bowers ! "Where nature once placed thee, the humblest of flowers ; But to their great leaguesf they now give thy fair name, O'er which none may preside, but squire or dame. The pagej that records their deeds too, bears thy name : How the rose and the lily must envy thy fame ; Thou art sought for and placed on royalties' breast, On the day England mourns for her noblest and best. A LAMENT FOR THE RIVER RIBBLE. Oh ! what has become of our beautiful river. Ebbing and flowing its high banks between ? Gone are its beauties, departed for ever, — Desolate and drear is the once charming scene. t Primrose League. ^ Primrose Chronicle. POEMS AND SONGS. We loved the fair stream, and were proud of its beauty : The healthful sea-breezes that eame with the tide Imparted new life ; and we thought it a duty To bring there our sick ones to rest by its side. A calm and sweet peace o'er our senses came stealing, As we sat on its banks 'mid pastoral scenes ; And the sweet chimes o'er the water came pealing, — Mingling their tones with the flow of the streams. In fine summer evenings, great was the pleasure To walk on its banks, or row o'er its tide ; Our river to us was a blessicg and treasure : We bewail its sad loss, let who may deride. And the trim little vessels rode by so lightly, With white sails outspread, like a bird on the wing ; The jack-tars who mann'd them, looking so sprightly. And captains important as if they were king. Alas ! for the day we heeded the tempter. Who told us that riches would roll up its streams. If they might make it for big ships to enter : But now we are woke from our illusive dreams. Oh ! what a scene of sad chaos now meets us : We gaze with dismay on the rubbish piled high ; The sea-gulls, like vultures, all screaming to greet us : Well may we linger, — afraid to go nigh. But stay ; there's a band of heroes united. And pledged to redeem a great part of our loss, Hun-ah for their courage ! they deserve to be knighted, If they can clear up this deplorable mess. 10 rOEMS AND SONGS. BOATING OX THE DEE. IN THE MONTR OF JUNE. On the winding Dee we're gliding so lightly, Through the green meadows where golden cups gleam ; Our fairy boat rides o'er the water so sprightly, Past the white lilies tha'- float on the stream. High over our heads the lark sings so sweetly, And the shy cuckoo is piping his lay ; Over the river the swallows dart fleetly, Where gnats gyrate in the summer's bright ray. Roses and eglantine crown the thick bashes, Their odorous perfume floats on the soft air ; They scatter their treasures among the tall rushes, That shelter the home, the heron finds there. Onward we glide 'neath the willow's long tresses, And whispering alders that hang o'er its tides ; Where tall ferns abound, and the greenest of cresses. In richness and beauty embellish its sides. And stately foxgloves above them are bending, Their bright purple bells the steep sloj-es adorn ; And crystal streams from the mountain descending, Add to the scene a most beautiful charm. The stock-doves above, their love-notes are cooing, In the old oaks that for ages have stood ; And the sleek herds on the emerald banks lowing, Or up to their knees in the river's cool flood. Not the Rhine with its vines, its rocks, and its castles. Can vie with the beautiful vales of the Dee ; The homes on its banks, thnt peacefully nestles, Haih delighted the heart of a monarch to iee. • POEMS AND SONGS. 11 THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE. Written in answer to Mrs. Mona Card, suggesting the dissolution of unhappy marriages. Mrs. Mona lacks experieace or sho would never try, To iufluence her sisters to break the marriage tie ; We should soon be like the Mormons, and that would never do, Every thoughtful woman, the proposal would pooh-pooh. On the day we were married, we pledged ourselves for life, To be unto our husband a faithful loving wife ; And if he fail in duty, are we to fail in ours ? No, never, Mrs. Mona, however dark the hours. We know the day was happiest we ever spent in life. When at the church's altar we were made a wedded wifi- ; And shall we break the vows that we plighted on that day, Because, forsooth, we cannot just always have our way. The marriage tie is binding, and never must be broke, Tho' the fetters become galling, we still must bear the yoke ; To leave our home and children would be a wicked sin, For soon another woman would be sure to enter in. Shall we be like a garment they've wore till they are tired, Or like a piece of furniture, sometime they may have hired ; Of which they've grown quite weary, and long for something new : No, thank you, Mi's. Mona, I don't agree with you. How the men would be delighted with Mrs. Mona's plan : They would only have a shindy to kick up now and then ; And make us all so weary, and tired of our life. That in a fit of anger, we'd consent to end the strife. Oh no, we must never put temptation in their way, Or give them an excuse for their minds to go astray ; They may vent their angry passions, or Mrs. Mona preach, Till death, I'll hold my husband as firmly as a leech. 12 POEMS AND SONGS THERE ARE MOMENTS. There are moments in our lives, when all seems so dark and drear, As if some impending sorrow to our hearts was drawing near ; When of life we feel so weary, and so oppressed with care, That a feeling overwhelms us akin to deep despair ; When our fondest hopes are blighted, and the world to us appears A desert or a wilderness, or bitter vale of tears. And there are happy moments, full of visions fair and bright, When our hearts are full of gladness, and bounding with delight ; When all the world is beautiful, our home the swoetest spot, And our sad and gloomy fancies are for a while forgot ; We mingle with the joyous throng, who laugh and dance and sing. And think not what the morrow to their thoughtless hearts may bring. And there are peaceful moments, that calmly glide away, When we feel a sweet contentment that is neither grave nor gay. But of both a happy mingling; together they combine To make our lives so cheerful we cease then to repine ; And if we would endeavour to make our lives complete, We must take without repining, the bitter with the sweet. A nd there are, too, spare moments, too often thrown away. Which if we would improve them, we should fmd another day ; We do not know the future, nor what we may require. But for what we have the talent, we always may aspire ; So let us improve spare moments, as rapidly they fly : We never can re- call them, when once they have gone by. • POEMS AND SONGS. 13 THE BEAUTY OF EARTH. How beautiful is earth if we look arouud and see, Nature her charms displaying wherever we may be ; There's beauty in the meadows when the grass is springing green, In the skylark warbling o'er it, in the morning's dewy gleam. There's beauty in the brooklet that ripples in the dell, In the bright and shining river, and the music of its swell ; In the flowers, ferns, and lichens, that flourish by its side, And the velvet rushes lifting their heads above its tide. There's beauty in the morning, when all is calm and still, When the sun in golden glory is rising o'er the hill ; In the dew-drops that are gleaming on every flower and leaf. And in the yellow cornfield, when they bind the harvest sheaf. And when the sun is shining above our heads at noon. And the wild birds are singing their gayest sweetest tune ; How sweet it is to wander, or rest in the leafy glade. And enjoy the quiet beauty 'neath the whispering alder's shade. And in the calm still evening, when the sun sinks in the west, A glowing beauty lingers o'er the earth, of peace and rest ; "When the dewy mists are rising above the meadow grass. And the coru-crake hoarsely greets you in the gloaming as you pass. And hedges, when the blossoms of the wood-bine round them twine, Or when the naked branches with crystal frostwork shine ; All, all are bright and beautiful, and free to every one. To partake of at their leisure, when their daily laboui-'s done. The woodlands too are beautiful, with all their varied green. When primroses are blooming on mossy banks between ; The tiny linnet singing upon the hawthorn spray. Rejoicing in the beauty of a bright warm summer day. 14 rOEMS AND SONGS, In winter when the holly with its scarlet beiries gleam, From out their snowy covering, above the frost-bound stream ; Gay youths and maidens gliding, in happy careless glee, Their skates and voices ringing on the air so merrily. And when the little robin comes on the window sill, Singing gaily for his crumbs, tho' he feels the winter's chill : Each picture is so beautiful, I love them all to see And both summer days and winter are glorious to me. HAPPY HOMES. How bright is the morning when o'er the blue mountains Bright sunbeams appear and illumine the e{irth ; But more bright is the home where love's hallowed fountains, Spring in each bosom, and brighten the hearth. Sweet are the chimes of the distant bells ringing, As their tones rise and fall on the soft summer air ; But sweeter the voices of children when singing. As they gather in love lonnd th' ir parent's arm chair. How healthful and pure are the l)reezes of morning, That sweep o'er the meadow, the mountain, and moor ; But more pure is the home where love's flame is burning, Sweet is its influence, and holy its power. The house is not home where love is a stranger, And each sullen face is o'erclouded with gloom ; Like the ox to his stall, or the ass to his manger : They go there to eat, to sleep, and to groom. But when loving kindness reigns in each bosom, And cheerfulness glows round the bright hearth and board ; Each face like a rose, in beauty will blossom, And a home bright and happy will be their reward. POKMS AND SONGS. 15 THE CROAKER. Written to " The Factory Times," in answer to a grumbling correspondent. SoMK people delight in eioakiiig, — And such is the one I may say, Who sent yon those gruniblinj^ versva Tliiit yon published the other day. lie speaks of the loom and the spindle As if they were objects of dread ; Instead of the useful inventions That provide U8 with clothes and bread. iSin and want accompany not labour, — It is idleness clothes us in rags, And prompts us to envy tlie neighbour Who rides in his coaches and gigs. 'Tis when loom and spindle aie silent That children cry out for bread ; And the mother is so ])ainfd to hear them — For food she sells their warm bed. Talk rot of tinning and sorrow, Hecansc we've to work for our crust : It is better to work than to borrow, And better to wear than to rust. Why speak of the factory workers As a down-trodden spiritless band ? They're tlic very backbone of our nation, — The strength and pride of onr land ; Whose genius invented our engines, And most of our splendid machines : Instead of idly complaining, They realized wonderful dreams. 16 POEMS AND SONGS. And if they love the bright flowers That gladden our beautiful earth, There's a time allotted for all things, — Work, recreation, and mirth. They have plenty of time in the summer. When closed for the day are the mills, To roam about in the meadows, Or climb up the air-bracing hills. When the heat of the day is all over. And nightingale warbling his lay : The enjoyment then is far greater Than if they had idled all day. They may have their trials and troubles,— So have all of us while we are here ; But in mills are both men and women Who are happy and live on good cheer. Whose homes arc a picture of neatness, Cheerfulness, plenty, and love ; Who go to church on a Sunday, And worship their Father above. ODE TO THE TURUSU. Pretty bird, thy song so sweet, Each glad morn thou dost repeat. In the early dawning hours, "When the dew-drops gem the flowers,- Comes sweet melody divine From that little throat of thine. Sweetest minstrel of the grove. POEMS AND SONGS. 17 "Warbling forth thy happy love, To thy mate iu cosy nest : Deep aifection in thy breast, For her and her little brood, Anxious to provide them food. And when twilight draweth nigh, Sings thy sweetest lullaby, — Which to me is sweeter still Thau lark's song, or gushing trill Of I)hilomel iu moonlit bowers, Wbcu his evening song he j)ours. Morning, noon, and dewy eve, Thy sung will o'l my heart relieve, From sad thoughts so apt to rise. And raise my spirits to the skies. The plough -bo lingers on his way To listen to thv merrv lav. So sweet and clear, so loud ami long, And tries to imitate the song That issues from thy tiny throat. And on the odorous breezes float. Thy sparkling eye and head aside. As if thy heart swell'd with glad pride, For the gift bestowed on thee, Tho' thou art so wild aud free. "What such pleasure e'er can yield, As to roam in verdant field 1 Rest beneath a blooming thorn — Its fragrance on the breezes borne ? List to music such as thine, Warbled forth in strains so fine ? Pale primroses blooming round, Violets nestling on the ground ; 18 POEMS AND SONGS. Blue-bells waving iu the breeze, 'Neath the shade of forest trees, — Tinted like the summer skies In the richest azure dyes ; Rippling brooklets murmuring near, Bright as crystal, sweet and clear ? In such scenes thou bonny bird, Oft thy glorious voice I've heard, Till the echoes woke around In the stillness so profound. As I listened to thy lays, ^ly heart o'erflowed in silent praise To the Maker who hath given, ♦ Gifts that raise our hearts to heaven. GREETINGS TO Mrs. GLADSTONE IN ITALY, DECEMBER 24th, 1888. Accept these greetings, noble lady, Tho' you are so lar away ; In the hearts and humes of England You will live on Christmas day. To us all a bright example, Noble lady, you have been ; In devotion to your husband, To your country, home, and Queen. And accept congratulations On your husband's natal day : Yours has been the joy to cheer him. On his great and glorious way. rOEMS AND SONGS. II) Bright your lamp is ever burning, Ready for your country's call ; And when difficulties meet you, You press on and face them all. Eight and fifty years he's serv'd us With his great and wondrous mind ; When shall we another leader Equal to him ever find ? Side by side you've journeyed onward, Always girded heart and hand ; Ready for the call of duty In your cause so gn at and grand Well you've earned y( iir golden guerdon, - Fifty years you've been a crown To your husband : and your children Must be proud of your renown. They will rise and call you blessed ; Long may you yet live to see Children's children gather round you, And a blessing to you be. May you see your hopes accomplished, For the good of Erin's Isle ; And your noble efforts free her, From the stain of so much liuile. Four score years, and yet we find him Eager, earnest, vigorous too ; Thought by many who surround him, That he owes it most to you. How he sways the hearts of thousands, — How they hang upon his words ; Wond'ring at his voice and accent, — Sweeter than the song of birds. 20 POEMS AND SONGS. 'Xeath Italian skies of splendour, Breathing the delicious air ; By its lakes and scenes of grandeur, May you rest from every care. And return unto St. Stephen's, Hearts and minds still firm and true To the thistle, rose, and shamrock, Aye, and leek of Cambria too. See the grand old statesman standing In the sacred house of prayer ; Reading words of consolation • Unto all assembled there. Nothing feeble in his accents : Hinging sweet, and clear, and bold ; Gifted with a flow ot language, Like the fishermen of old. Like a glorious golden sunset. Is the ereniug of his days ; Cheering, blessing, all around him. With his bright and kindly ways. Pardon ray presumption, lady, In assuming thus to write ; But in kind«i8t, best of wishes, Thousands will to day unite. Tho' my greetings may be humble, They are none the less sincere ; And permit me now to wish you, — When it comes, — a glad new yrar. POEMS AND SONGS. 21 OU ! LET us BE UAPPY. Prize Poem, "Preston Herald," July 28th, 188— Oh let us be iiappy and cheerful, Let us be meiTy aud glad ; The world will keep moving onward, Tho' we should be ever so sad. If we should meet with misfortune. Why need we give way to despair? Let " onward " be ever our motto, And our aim to drive away care. What if disappointments come to us, Why need we murmur at that ? When there are so many rich blessings, That are sent to brighten our lot. You ask what those blessings consist of, — Wait, friend, and lend me your ear : They are not to be found in a carriage. Nor yet in tive thousand a year. But in always being contented. And living a virtuous life ; In a home we know we can pay for, With a nice little good tempered wife. If in the day we've to labour, There is always the night we can rest ; But if we sit down and be idle, We shall soon be corroded with rust. \^'hen friends we have trusted betray us — The brother we've lov'd prove unkind ; Let us strive against all bitter feeling. And not let it trouble our mind. 22 POEMS AND SONGS And should we meet with another, Faint with the heat of the day, Remember that he is our brother, And give him a Hfl on the way. This life is a long toilsome journey, We eiich have our burdens to bear ; But if all were equally divided, We might have a much larger share. Then let us each take up our burden, And make the best of it we can ; If at any time it should Ixi heavy, Let us shoulder it like a true man. THE BLIND GIRL TO HEK MOTHER. MoTHKR, dear mother, how bright is the day. Come out and sit where the sofl breezes play ; Sweet and refreshing they waft o'er my brow, I hear their .«oft whispers in every bough. They bear on their wings the perfume of flowers, And wild bees are humming about in the Innvers ; I hear the birds singing in joyous delight, They feel that the day is so glorious and bright. Altho' I'm denied the blessings of sight, Mv spirit oft feels so radient and bright ; I fancy the plumage of beautiful birds So gorgeous, I cannot describe them in words. The beautiful flowers that shed their perfume, I paint in the gayest and brightest their bloom : Perhaps if I saw tliera they might not be So pleasing as they now appear unto me. POEMS AND SON(;S. 23 I cannot see nature but her glorious voice, Makes my heart glad and my spirit rejoice ; The songs of the birds and the wind as it plays, Sweet as Eolian's melodious lays ; And its weird moaning to me hath a charm, When in my bed I am laid snug and warm And the murmuring streams as they gently glide, 1 love to roam near them with you by my side ; And all to me are so good and so kind, I am apt to forget, dear mother, I am blind. LIXES ON TUE DEATH OF A YOUNG FlUEND, AGED 22. She has gone to her rest, now her troubles are o'er. And landed, we hope, on Canaan's bright shore ; No more will she weary with hard toil and care, AVhich was more than her strength or spirit could bear. In silence she suffered, and seldom complained ; Her young life was blighted, it only remained For death to approach : in whate'er form he came. She was ready and waiting, nor questioned his claim. She has passed away to her rest now on high. Where neither sickness nor pain can come nigh ; To a laud more congenial, to visions more bright, Her spirit hath taken its aerial flight. Like a pale tender lily exposed to the storm, With the cold blast, of her strength she was shorn ; Now her spirit hath cast off its tenement of clay, And soar'd in its lightness to eternal day. 24 POEMS AND SONGS. THE SILVER WEDDING. Written October ii, 1884. The first sod cut for the New Dock on the River Ribble. 'Tis fivc-and twenty years to day, Dear wife, since you and I Began our life as man and wife : Dear me, how time does fly. It only seems like yesterday. When we stood side by side. In that old church one bright May morn, And you became my bride. ■ We started life in hope and love, And all seemed fiiir and bright ; But many are the visions that Have f\ided from our sight. We've had our ups and downs, dear wife, And many a trouble sore ; But when we come to reckon up, The blessings have been more. For when we lost our little Sue, Our hearts were sorely grieved ; But then, she was not all we had, We were not quite bereaved. We've had good health and been content, With what of worldly store, Hath been allotted as our part, And never craved for more. POEMS AND SONGS. 2o The five-and-tweuty years have changed Yuiir graceful girlish form, To one of comely matronhood, — To me an added charm. Our sons and daughters try to cheer, And bless our home, dear wife ; As down the hill from year to year, We journey on through life. We've done our best to train them up In wisdom's pleasant way ; And we are told in after-life. Their footsteps will not stray. Some of them are to manhood grown, And left the parent nest ; Have homes and children of their own, With health and comfort blest. I've asked them all to meet us here To celebrate this day ; And at its close, before we part. We'll join in praise, and pray — That God will bless our goings out, And all our comings in ; That all our words, and deeds, and thoughts, Be pure and free from sin. And thank Him for His mercies too. Through all these many years ; We have not found this world to be Always a vale of tears. 26 POEMS AND SONGS. For wheu dark clouds of sorrow roll, We've never fiilcd to find, Howc'er stormy they may be, With silver each is lined. The world keeps moving on apace, And wc move with it too ; Let us be earnest in the race, In all that's good and true. So shall wc then lay down to rest, When all life's conflicts cease ; And firm in faith, and hope, and trust, , Depart this life in peace. MAY. Wakulk forth your songs of praises, Oh ! ye minstrels of the grove ; Sing your sweetest songs ye birdies, Chant aloud your happy love. Fill the woodlands with your music, Till the echoes sweet resound ; In the mazes, where the daisies, And the woodbine blossom round. Sweet wild roses ope your petals, Waft your fragrance on the air ; May is come, oh ! haste to greet her, Weave a garland for her hair. And the meadows spangled over, With their cups of shiniug gold ; Where the rover seeks the clover, To draw honey from each fold. • POEMS AND aONGS. 27 Little lambs with snow-white fleeces, In the pastures sport and play ; With tlie lowing cattle revelling In the sweetness of the May. And the cuckoo in the distance, Oft repeats his inellow lay ; And rejoices, with the voices, Warbling all the livelong day. And ye crystal brooks and rivers, Ye, too, join the choral song ; Bring vour brightest sweetest waters To refresh the raerry throng. Gaily dance along your pathway, Singing sweetly as ye go. O'er the shining pebbles rippling, Ever onward bright ye flow. Forest trees all don your garments Of the brightest richest green ; Let your whisperings be the sweetest, When you greet your bonny queen. Rustle in the bright sun glances, Quiver o'er the verdant earth ; Bluebells springing, and their ringing Mingles with the joyous mirth. Glorious May time ! men-y May time ! Glad we greet thy coming here ; Brightest, sweetest, merriest Maytime, Gladdest month of all the year. Hedges white with summer snowwreaths, Wild birds warbling all the day ; Flowers springing, dewdrops clinging, Welcome sweet and merry May. 28 POEMS AND SONGS. A BRIDE STOOD AT THE ALTAlt. A Temperance Poem, published in " The Temperance Mirror," 1884. A luiiDE stood at the altar, dressed in gleaming silk and lace, "With looks of love and happiness beaming upon her face ; The bridegroom was beside her in all his manly pride, Vowing to love and cherish, and forsake all else beside. I saw her at the altar, orange blossoms on her brow, She looked so fair and winsome : I think I see her now. Surrounded by six bridesmaids, arrayed in 8|M)tless white, As the vicar read the service : most impressive was tjie sight ; The organ strains were swelling in hymns of prayer and praise, Bright sunbeams on them falling, foretold them happy days, I saw her in her beauty, a gay and happy bride, With nothing left to wish for in all the world beside. He took her to a stately home, a hvdy rich and grand. Kind wishes poured upon them from friends on every hand ; No cloud to mar their happiness, or dim their sunny sky : Wc little know the hour when deep sorrow draweth nigh. I saw her newly wedded, but I never saw her more, With the look of perfect happiness, that sunny morn she wurc. A year has passed, and once again I saw that fiiir young bride. Arrayed in costly robes and gems, her husband at her side ; Amidst a ballroom's giddy throng, of which they formed a pari, She looked up in his sparkling eyes, and gave a sudden start. I saw her in her costly robes, but would not see her more. With the look of hopeless sadness her beauteous face then wore. His handsome face was hot and flushed, unmeaning was his smile, As he staggered with unsteady gait, holding her hand the while ; The harmonious strains of music fell upon unheeding ears, POEMS AND SONGS. 29 For he was steeped in drunkenness, and she was drowned in tears, T saw him in his weakness, but I would not see him more, For my bosom filled with sadness, for the wife whose heart was sore. When next again I saw that pair, 'twas in a maniac's cell, Beside the inmate stood a form T knew so passing well ; Her head was bowed, her form was bent, in misery and woe, Oh ! who would tiiink the demon drink, could change God's creatures so. I saw them in their misery, but I never saw them more, When next we met, no gems had she, and a widow's weeds she wore. REFLECTIONS OX A VISIT TO ST. .JOHN'S COLLEGE, GRIMSARGH, Near PRESTON. A RIGHT happy party we entered the chase With joy in each heart, and a smile on each face ; As we drove through the beautiful country lanes: We forgot for a time all trouble and pains. We were bound for St. John's, to witness the sports ; There were handicap races, and games of all sorts ; And when the band played its inspiriting strains, We enjoyed the rich treat in those lovely domains. Warm was our welcome, as we entered the hall, From the hostess and host, and young students all, As they ushered us in at the portal so wide, — In their beautiful home they felt a great pride. When in the oak chamber we sat down to rest, — Unique in its beauty by all there confess't, — We thought noble knights might have dwelt in those halls, And there held their banquets, receptions, and balls. 80 POEMS AND SONGS We tliought of great heroes, so loynl and grand, Who, for sheltering their king liad to forfeit their land ; In those chambers and gronnds a monarch might hide, And from his enemies securely abide. We thought of the squires and dames of lang-syne, Who sat in tiiose chambers, and (luatlVd ofT their wine ; Of weary ones, tired (»f the world's care and strife. Who there sought and found peaa', all the rest of their life. We thought of the revels, the dance, and the jest, When oM Father Christmas made welcome each guest ; When the walls were U-decked with holly and yew, And from the hall roof hung the mistletoe bough. When tlie gay rooms echoed with music and mirth, And the wassail went round, as bright glowed the hearth, When the yule log was burned, as it reared in the grate. With the song and the dance, each heart was elate. Now all is changed, a spirit reigns there, Whose presence is seen and felt everywhere ; Earnestly sowing his seed in the field, That in God's good time a rich harvest will yield. We entered the church with its gables so quaint, Adorned with bright anj^els ami glorified saint ; Our hearts were all stiiTcd with celestial fire, As the beautiful anthems were sung by the choir. The Pastor exhorted the youths in his care. Of snares and temptations to always beware ; And never to cause their dear parents a tear. But always to at t as if they were near. POEMS AND SONGS. 31 He begt^ecl of tliein all to remember their prayers, Morning and evening in all their atl'airs ; To seek their Creator now in their youth, And never depart from honour and truth. As homeward we sped, the theme of each guest, Was not of the hospital)le welcome repast ; But of that beautiful, bridious and sweet they sing at all houre. The birds of rich plumage, that roost in the trees. Remind us af tropical lands o'er the seas ; And the miniature waterfall toils night and day, To keep pure the bath, where the youths swim and play. In luxuriant beauty tall ferns abound, Where sits the old mandarin* gazing around ; Not a sound to be heard but the bird and the bee. And the brook as it sings on its way to the sea. May the lessons there taught, take root in each heart. That when from that home they are called to depart ; They will keep in the path of honour and truth. As a debt to be paid to the guide of their youth. •A marble figure. 82 rOEMS AND SONGS. W LAMENT OF THE COUNTESS OF LEICESTER IN CUMNOR OASTLE. Suggested by the sad meaning of the words, "alone! gone, and never more." A LADY sat in her chamber, So beautiful, noble, and grand, Lovely and fair were her features. And like a white lily her hand ; Her long thick tresses were braided : And like a bright coronet of gold, Round her small shapely head were twisted In many a wondrous fold. , Her form was both tiill and stately, Her every* movement was grace ; But there was a yearning sadncps In her fair and In-autiful face. A yearning fur something wanting, In her large lustrous eyes there beamed, As she sat in her shining garments Like a fair bright vision she seemed. Unperceived I entered her chamber, And gazed on her beauty spellbound, I saw that her lips were moving, And there issued a sweet low sound. For her words I eagerly listened, Wondering what her sorrow could l)e, So beautiful rich and noble, Yet pining in sad misery. Her low silvery tones came stealing, And fell on my listening ear ; A world of pathos was in them, But they sounded distinct and clear. % POEMS ANP SONGS. 33 They came with such deep sad raeauing, I remembend them every word ; And this was the cause of sorrow Frura the hidy I ovi-rheard : " Oh, what to me is the splendour Of all that surrounds me here, Without a friend to console me, Or chase the unbidden tear ? Is it for this I have bartered The love of my father and home, To pine here in this old castle, So weary, sad, and alone? Alone : what a desolate feelinj; That word to my heart now conveys 1 Alone : I knt'W not its meaninj,' In the byegone once happy days, When we roamed o'er the hills and meadows Free as the birds in the air. And gathered the sweet wild flowers That grew round us everywhere. How dearly I prized the wild roses, Because they were plucked by him, But the thorns now pierce ray bosom Till my eves with tears become dim ; These walls to me are a dungeon, These jewels are fettcs that gall, And these pearls in my hair are a mockery : I'm weary and tired of them all. To be deck'd out in these baubles, With no one to see what I wear ; I was happier far with my father, When I wore a rosebud in my hair. 34 POEMS AND SONGS. But I Still love him so clearly, He is all in the world to me ; I could live in his presence only, Alas ! nevermore, can it be. Gone I from my life is the sunshine, Gone 1 is the trust of my youth : And with them my peace lor ever, Alone, will my heart be till death." A MERRY HEART. A MERRY heart, a merry heart, it shines ujjon the face. And insures you a welcome at every time and place ; Like the bright and (flowing sunshine, it cheers all around. And dispenses joy and gladness wherever it is found. A merry heart is better than gright, and heart so light And footstep is the fleetest. And Ntlly she can play and sing, And waltzes so divinely : I danced with her the other night, And she did foot it finely. But better still, my Nelly has A temper of the meekest ; And she can bake, and she can brew, And darn a sock the neatest. So Nelly is the girl for me, If I can only win her; For every day I then shall be Sure of a dainty dinner. THE FLOWER ON THE WYE. Down the green meadows where cowslips are blowing, And golden eyed daisies peep up at the sky : Where little lambs bleat, and cattle are lowing, There stands an old mill on the banks of the Wye. In that old mill-house a sweet flower is blooming, Neither lily nor rose with its beauty can vie ; I saw her one eve as I walked in the gloaming. Near the old mill on the banks of the Wye. Sweet was her smile as the rosiest May morning, Her eyes like the blue of the soft summer sky, The wild rose's blush her fair cheeks adorning ; She has lived in my heart since we met on the Wye. 68 POEMS AND SONGS. It' I can win this fair lovely blossom, So rich iu its beauty, to j:laddeu my eye ; It shall live in my heart, aud rest iu my bosom Cherished and loved till the day that I die. THE MILK-MAID. A MILK-MAID went out from her dairy, And tripped on the meadow.s one morn ; Her footsteps were light as a fairy, And cheeks like tlie rose on the thorn. Her face with a sweet smile was lighted, As she came to the old rustic stile, Where vows of true love she had plij^hted To handsome young Charlie O'Lisle. But Charlie was not there to meet her, He'd ne'er been a laggard before : But always there waiting to greet her, And her heart became heavy and sore. A thrush iu the bushes was singing, Which greatly increased her dismay ; She thought that his notes clear and ringing, Said, Charlie will not come to-day. She was turning away, sad and wretched, "W^hen she heard a quick footstep behind ; 'Twas Charlie, his strong arms outstretched, And soon her light form they entwined. He lovingly chid her for doubting (As the thrush kept repeating his lay) ; Quickly she left off her pouting. And the saucy young thrush flew away. POEMS AND SONGS. 69 A STORY OF ANTS. Once a famous local preacher Of very great reiiowD, Received a call to preach one day, In a fur distant town. He donn'd his best black Sunday coat, And hat of softest felt ; That hat was known by everyone, In the place where he dwelt. He carried nothing but a hag To put his sermon in ; And just a little drop of wine, He thought would be no sin. So off he went quite dignified, As parsons ought to be ; Anil for the train was just in time, And very pleased was he. Arriving at the junction, he Had got an hour to wait, And that's the reason that I have A story to relate. The junction was a country place, Both comfortless and bare ; He could nut find a decenD room, To sit in anywhere. The day was beautifully fine, He sauntered round about, To find a quiet resting place. Until the time was out. 70 POEMS AND SONGS. He saw a verdant meadow near, A pathway through it ran ; And that he tlioujjht was just the phice, His sermon o'er to scan. So he sat down upon the grass, Beneath an old oak tree ; And soon the hour had passed away, And passed right pleasantly. He saw the train was coming up, And hurried to gel. in ; He found an empty first, and that Was just the thing for him. So in he got and settled down, — He'd drawn the windows up ; And of his wine quite sparingly, He took a little sup The train began to move, and soon The parson he moved too ; For he could not imagine what The dickens was to do. He looked about upon the seat, But could see nothing there ; Yet such a dreadful tingling Was on him everywhere. He rubb'd, and rubb'd, and rubb'd again, But still the smarting grew ; So he determined he would see What with him was to do. POEMS AND SONGS. 71 His nether garment he removed, And found the bitter cause ; Upon an ant-hill ho liad sat : They swarmed upon his clothes. He never was so much perplexed : He knew not what to do ; For fast as he could brush them oft', The onset they'd renew. He turned his garment inside out, — The dreadful little pests Were racing up and down, as if The fiend had them possessed. He let the carriage window down, With such a savage bang : He'd quite forgot poor patient Job, And all his suflFering. He first look'd this way, then look'd that,— Then out he held his pants ; And how he did anathematise Those daring little ants. He shook, and shook, with all his might. As he'd ne"er shook before ; He little knew when he set out, What tor him was in store. For as he drew them in again, They slipped from out his hand And like a bird went fluttering down. Alighting on the sand. 72 POEMS AND SONGS. In frantic haste he graspM the coi'd, To stop the train, — but then They'd take him for a lunatic, And send for policemen. So he concluded then to wait Until the train should stop : And then npon the platform, he From it would quickly drop. So acting on this wise resolve, Until his journey's end, He sat in silent Hgony : A chaos was his mind. His journey ended safe at last, And quickly out he ran, Into the waiting room, but not The one fur gentlemen. Two maiden ladies in the room Sat quite sedate and prim : But such a scream they both set up, When they at first saw him. The porters, and the master, too, All ran to know the cause ; And then the paison told them all The story of his woes. So they at once supplied him wi.h Another pair of pants : But while he lives he'll ne'er forget Those torturing little ants. POEMS AND SONGS. 73 BEAUTIFUL RIVER. Beautiful river ! say where is your home ; Whence do ye come with your spray and your foam ; Singing so gaily, sparkling and bright, Hastening alon^ by day and by night? Beautiful river ! say where do ye go ; What is your pui'pose and why do ye flow ; i*erchance yo may linger sometimes on your way, But nothing can ever induce you to stay ? ^ly home w:>s in Eden ; my journey began When pronounced to be good for the service of man ; In that beautiful garden I watered the flowers, AVhen Adam and Eve dwelt in its fair bowers. I roam over mountains and heather-crowned hills, Where wild deer come bounding to drink at my rills, I wind round the plains refreshing and free, A bltssing to all on my way to the sea. I bound over rocks to the valleys below, And form a fair scene artists all love to draw ; Tall ferns and lichens encircle my way, Drinking beauty and life irom my moistening spray. Through leafy glades where nightingales sing, And primroses bloom with the first breath of spring ; Where nature rejoices in jubilant song, I join the glad chorus when rolling along. I supply the mill pond so useful and deep. From whose placid bosom the white lilies peep ; For the use and the service of all was I given. Free as the sunlight and pure air of heaven. 74 POEMS AND SONGS. TO THE SKYLARK. Sweet happy songster, soaring on high. Winging thy way to the beautiful sky ; What spirit inspires the exquisite lay, Thou warblest so sweetly all hours of the day? Is thy home in the corn so happy and bright, That thou leavest with feelings so full of delight ; And singest glad praises for joy to thee given, As nearer and nearer thou soare^t to heaven 1 What is the theme of thy glorious lay? A fountain of gladness thou pourest all day ; Many sad hearts are cheer'd by thy strain, Sing on little bird and cheer them a^ain. Dull is the earth for a being like thee, Whose heart is so full of sweet melody ; Thy mate, from her home, thy voice must admire, As upward thou springest, higher still higher. Thou teachest a lesson to man, little bird. Thou art so grateful for blessings conferr'd ; Sweet is thy life, — how joyous to see, Such delight in a thing so tiny as thee. Sing on, sweet bird ! from th? clouds we hear, Thy song resounding exquisite and clear ; We think of the angels, thou briglit little bird, And believe their soogs, we sometimes have heard. POEMS AND SONGS. 75 COME JESSIE. Come Jessie, come Jessie : oh ! come and away, Over the meadows where lambs skip and play ; Where birds sing so gaily in iglantiue bowers, And bees sip the sweets from the dew laden fluwers. Lays soft and sweet as the waters that glide, I will sing to thee, Jessie : oh ! haste to my side. The sweet song of the mavis echoes in the glen : Come Jessie, come Jessie and linger not, when My bosom is longing to gaze on my queen. And morning is beaming so bright and serene. Sunbeams are gleaming o'er earth and o'er sky, But more bright is the light in thy soft beaming eye. BERWYN, NORTH WALES. Lovely Berwyn ! how my heart Longs for language to impart To the world thy beauties rare Which are so surpassing fair. Glorious mountains towering high, Reaching almost to the sky ; Crown'd with purple heather bloom ; Rich air laden with perfume ; Golden gorse gleam on the sides, Where the screaming lapwiug hides, Safely Iq his mountain home. Where man's footsteps seldom roam, 76 POEMS AND SONGS. On the slopes the feathery pines Wave their branches near the mines, That are rich in granite stones, Where once eagles fixed their thrones. In the crags above the the vale. Inaccessible to scale. On the torrents rushing streams, Wild and beautiful as dreams ; Bushing, roaring, night and day, By their sides the couies play ; From their bracken homes they skip. The tender grass and herbs to nip. And the shepherd, o'er his sheep, With his dog a watch doth keep ; Pipes his reed with sweet content, Thankful of the blessings sent. In the vale the dappled herd. Graze where not a sound is heard ; But sweet nature's glorious voice, When the birds and beasts rejoice. And the rippling murmuring stream. Famed in song and poet's theme, — Winding sweetly round the hills. Ferns and flowers bend o'er its rills, Mighty oaks o'er-arch its tide ; And beeches fluurish by its side ; Alders bend and willows weep, O'er its waters clear and deep. And tall whispering aspens gleam In the sunlight's glowing beam ; Flickering rays it brightly throws. On the streamlet as its flows. And the church upon its banks, — POEMS AND SONGS, 77 Earlier then Llywelyn ranks ; Centuries its walls have stood, In that lonely silent wood; And the ever flowing Dee, Adds to its solemnity. In that church is often heard Reading from the holy word. One * whose name both far and wide, Million hearts revere with pride ; As they read the pure life o'er, Of Good Albert, now no more. Above the church in peace serene, Stands his home, where late our Qneen, Deign'd to grace that charming vale : All with pride now tell the tale. GWENDOLIN, THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. By the Dee there lived a miller, and a happy man was he : Morn, noon, and night, his water-wheel went round so merrily ; He whistled and he sang all day, and went to bed at night, In health and sweet contentment, and slept till morning light. The swish-swash of his water-wheel was music to his ears, But sweeter still his daughter's voice, a maid of eighteen years ; Younor Gwendolin was fair and bright as any morn in May, The darling of her father's heart, so happy and so gay. * Sir Theodore Martin. 78 POEMS AND SONGS. She'd lovers plenty, but she turned a deaf car to them all, She always was the village belle, at party and at ball ; She lov'd to climb the mountains, and ramble by the stream. That of many a song and slory has been the pleasant theme. The speckl'd trout in that fair stream were fam'd for being fine, And unto anglers it was known, they came in summer time ; One day a yuuth of noble mien was sitting by the stream, And seeing fair Gwendolin, thought her like a poet's dream. From that time he thought the fishes near the mill were much the best, And daily love for Gwendolin was growing in his breast ; When he saw her leave the mill, he followed in her wake. And met her on the mountain, in the meadow, and the brake. And Gwendolin was so happy as she'd never been before, Her lover was so handsome, and he told her o'er and o'er How very much he loved her, quite dearly as his life ; If she'd consent to marry, she should be his wedded wife. Her father would not give consent for her to go away, But the lover he was urgent, said he could no longer stay ; So he at hio^th consented, the light went from his home, And somecio. low, the water-wheel had lost its merry tone. His home was in the city, they lived happy for a while. But soon she missed the brightness of his gay and pleasant smile ; And oft till early morning hours, he now would stay away, She saw that with excitement he was flushed from day to day. She could not long be ignorant of the sad and bitter cause, She sometimes remonstrated, and begged of him to pause ; She thought of her kind father who was now so far away. And for her husband's weakness, would often kneel and pray. POEMS AND SONGS. 79 He lived in the great city, such a gay and restless life, That Gwendolin often wearied of its hollouness and strife ; Like a sweet wild flower transplanted in uncongenial soil, Gwendolin's spirits drooped, but she bore up for a while. Her husband grew indifferent as he saw her pine and fade, And left off the attentions he before to her had paid ; And from indifference soon he grew to words and sometimes blows, AVhen maddened by excitement that the drunkard only knows. He drank and gambled till at last, his money all was spent, He told her they must leave their home, he could not pay the rent ; She could not tell her father the sad and doleful tale, So different from that happy time she left her native vale. They went into cheap lodgings, and everything was sold ; He enlisted for a soldier, and the rest soon may be told : A friend and kindly neighbour for Gwendolin's father sent, He came and brought her home, and in time grew quite content. The music of the mill-wheel still is heard along the vale. And many years have passed since the sad and doleful tale ; One day a handsome soldier looked o'er the garden hedge : They were happy ever after — he had signed the temperance pledge WHAT IS LIFE ? Oh ! what is life ? the cynic cries, — What do we live for here ? But toil and moil, 'mid care and strife. Thro' every circling year ? Our troubles start in early life "With each hard puzzling task ; "We ponder over books when we In sunshine ought to bask. 80 POEMS AND SONGS. And as in youth we drag along. Against the stream of hfe ; Hoping a change will soon come round, We weary of the strife. For stumbling blocks on every side, We meet from day to day ; As we from yo-ith to age advance, Plodding our weary way. And when to manhood we are grown, Our cares still heavier press ; We take unto ourselves a wife, Hoping to make them less. But sad mistake : the burden grows ; And when we rise at morn. We feel so much oppressed, we wish That we had not been born. Oh ! cynic, what a doleful strain, You croak into our ears ; Have you no joy in life e'er found In all these many years ? Did you in youth no happy hours, When tasks were over find ; To cheer your heart with nature's joys, And elevate your mind. Was it no sweet enjoyment then, To roam the fields and lanes ; Or climb the glorious mountains high, When freed from lessons' chains ? POEMS AND SONGS. 81 Did no response yonr youthful heart. In natuie's gladness find ; In joyous songs of happy birds, And healthful whispering wind ? When hazel nuts in cops and brake, Hung thick on every bough ; In gathering them was there no joy, For you to think of now 1 Where the pale starry primrose blooms, In dingle and in dell ; Were you not drawn to their retreat, As by a magic spell ? Thro' clover meadows spangled o'er, With cups of shining gold ; Where bees hum gaily as they sip, The sweets that they enfold ? Was theren o music in the streams. That murmur through the glades ; Did you no swest contentment find When resting in the shades? Where timid hares and rabbits skip, And golden pheasants roam ; And squirrels leap from be ugh to bough. To reach their lofty home ? Are there no memories of that time. To wake a happy thought ? If not, I say : you have not lived A life that each one ought. When jou a youthful maiden brought To share your gloomy home ; Was selfishness the only cord, By which your heart was drawn ? 82 POEMS AND SONGS. Was uot the acct'nta of her voice, Like music to your ears ; Aud did not her sweet loviug words, Dispel your gloumy fearis ? Of all created thinj^s man seems The ouly one to mourn, Or heave a sigh of sad regret, That he was ever born. The thrushes sing, the blackbirds pipe, The skylark warbks high ; And tiny insects all rejoice : » 'Tis only man that sigh. A bounteous hand supplies the earth With all his creatures need ; If with enough they'd be content. Have less of seltisL greed. He gives us corn, and wine and oil. To feed aud make us glad ; Then wherefore, wherefore, cynic say : Why should your heart be sad ? THE SNOWDROP. The snowdrop is peeping again from the earth. We hail it with gladness, and welcome its birth ; Sweet emblem of purity, first flower of spring, Soon will all nature awaken and sing. Soon will the crocus and daffodils tall, Come forth at the sound of spring's gentle call ; But the pale little suowdrop so pearly and white, Comes e'er the winter hath taken its flight. POEMS AND SONGS. 83 It comes bravely forth from the hard frosty ground, To tell us that sprini!; is soon coming round ; With sweet feather'd minstrels to herald her way, Singing more gaily each lengthening «lay. The snowdrop is sought for with eager delight, For the bridal at morn, and the ball room at night ; The sick one's eye brightens, her face wears a smile, In the pleasure the sweet buds afford her awhile. No bird but the robin is heard yet to sing. On the bare branch above that sweet pearly thing ; He sits in the cold and pours forth his lay. Bright, tuneful, and sweet as if it were May. That sweet fragile tlower, and pretty bright bird, Teach all a lesson and make themselves heard ; To shrink not in storms or cold winter's blast, But cheerfully bear them, not long will they last. A SONG OF PRAISE. Psalm 104. Praise the Lord my soul and spirit, Glorious is His holy name ; Clothed with majesty and honour. Brighter than a living flame. He the heavens like a curtain, Spreadest with his mighty hand ; Deck'st them out in gorgeous splendour, Rich and beautiful and grand. He commands the mighty waters, — At His word thev ebb and flow ; Tho' they rage in fierce commotion, Still no further can they go. 84 POEMS AND SONGS. lie hath sot their boun Is for ever, Over which thej cannoi pass ; Food he sends for all his creatures, "Wiue and oil, green herb and grass. Crystal streams flow to the rivere, Sweet they meander through the hills ; Giving drink fur man and cattle, And wild asses at their rills. Song-birds make their home beside them. In the branches ^j^vcctly sing Praises to their great Creator, ^ Heaven's own high eternal King. "Wondrous are His works and mighty, Sun and moon, and stars He rules ; Changeless, silent in their courses, Earth's foundation still he holds. All creation now adore Him, Sing His praise from shore to shore ; And in worship bow before Him, Singing, serving, evermore. INGRATITUDE. Meanest of the human passions. Oh ! ingratitude art thou ; Avarice and greed are pictured In deep furrows on thy brow. All have trouble and misfortune; Need a sympathizing friend ; But if thou art hovering near them, Who a helping hand will lend ? POEMS AND SONGS. 85 Even Charity so lovely, Fiom tliy presen<-e soon will flee ; And luve, too, will no coininnnion Loiif^ bdid with a wrct- h like thee. Friends and brothers thoii hast paited, With thy grovellinjr, {]^rasping greed; Sowing discird in their bosoms : Vile and poisonous is thy seed. Oft destroying all the blossoms Springing in a generous breast, "With thy blighting scathin-r influence, Rubbing it of peace and rest. A\'hen a friend respectt-d, trusted, Acts a base ignoble part — 'Tis the treachery unexpected, That strikes deepest to the heart. A BRAW LAD IS JAMMIE. A BRAW lad is Jammie, he says he lo'es me, His twa' cheeks are rosy, sloe black is his e'e ; But siller or gowd my Jammie has nana, Sae the heart o' my father is hard as a stane. He vows that my Jammie shall ne'er marry me. And nane but a laird my husband must be ; But I'll wed my Jammie, wi him gang awa, In spite o'baith faither and mither, an mither an a'. If Jammie's no siller he looks like a laird, Can dance sae divinely, and sing like a bird ; Na laird in the highlands like him is sa braw, Sae ril wed we Jammie in spite a them a'. 86 POEMS AND SONGS. THE LOVELIXESS OF NATURE. Oh ! lovely earth, I will sing thy praises, With heart and voice I will chant ray lay ; Of glad green meadows and woodland mazes, Where joy-birds sing all the snmmer day. And of the bright streams richly glowing. In life and beauty through all the land ; Eefreshing the earth, and life bestowing, Sent for (»nr use by a Father's hand. Of country lanes, where white cots are peeping. From orchards rich with fruit-laden trees ; And cheerful voices of labourei"s reaping The golden corn waving in the breeze. Of busy bees that return home laden, With sweets to store all their wondrous cells ; The soft sweet song of the blooming maiden, Iklingling with the chimes of the evening bells. Of the glorious sun in his radiant splendour, — Ruling the day ; and the moon by night ; Of countless stars that unceasing render. Their gleaming beauty of glittering light. Oh ! wonderful world so full of lightness. My heart shall rejoice and thy praises sing ; But to Him who form'd all their glorious brightness. Still higher praise will my spirit bring. POEMS rOK CHILDREN. THE GOOD SUEPUERD. Psalm XXIII. Gentle Shepherd, lead Thy children, Safe into the heavenly fold ; And in verdant pastures feed them, Sheltered from the heat and cold. When the streams of living waters, Ever flowing, sweetly glide ; Teach them there renewing virtues, Be Thou ever at their side. "When alluring charms would lead them From Thy care to go astray ; Guide the wanderer until safely Brought into the narrow way. When temptations sore assail them, Gentle Shepherd, be Thou near ; When they tread the gloomy valley, With Thy stafl" support and cheer. 88 POEMS AND SONGS. THE SONG OF THE FAIRY. Fm a merry, merry fairy, RIy home's the sylvan shades; I sleep away the sunshine, But in the moonlit glades I dance to the music Of the spheres and the streams, And revel with wood-nymphs, In their wild enchanting scenes. Chorus — Fm a merry, merry fairy, So happy, wild, and free ; And a merry, merry fairy, Forever I will be. The nightingale sings sweetest When he knows I am there ; The dewdrops are my jewels, With which I bind my hair. I ling the pretty bluebells. To summon forth my maids ; And bathe in crystal fountains, "With the sportive water naiads. The zephyrs are my chariots, They wafl me far away : When the early dawn is breaking, Befoi e the glare of day. I fly acToss the mountains, And sl( ep in rocky caves ; A sunbeam for my pillow, My lullaby the waves. POEMS AND SONGS. 89 THE PET THRUSH. Published in the Children's Corner, "Preston Guardian." I've got a pet thrush, with pretty brown wiogs, He is such a pet, and oh ! how he sings ; Yon all ought to hear him : talk of the lark, — Why my thrush almost sings from daylight till dark. He sits on his perth so fearless and bold, In his white speckled vest, all shaded with gold ; He bathes every morning to keep himself clean, He's the bonniest birdie that ever was seen. I call his name Bobby, and he knows it so well, I love him much more than I ever can tell ; He hops up and down on his perches so quick, Like a clown or an harlequin playing a trick. He's always so happy in his nice roomy cage, And looks all around with the eye of a sage ; Singing so gaily as he stands on one leg, I think I can very soon teach him to beg. But I must admit that his voice is yet low, What can we expect in the cold frost and snow ; When cold winter is past, and spring will appear, His beautiful song will be heard far and near. Sometimes I bring him a little fat worm, This savoury morsel acts like a charm ; AVhen he's ate it all up, he whistles so loud. As if he'd dune something of which he was proud. 90 POEMJi AND SONGS. And woo to the fly that onmes in his way, No spider's fine parlour was ever so gay ; Whenever one veniures inside Bobby's den, He never is seen to come out again. But some may tliink I am doing quite wrong, In casing this bird for his sweet meny song ; But Tabby had caught him, and hurt his poor wing, I rescued him from her, the cruel old thing. And now little dears, always bear this in mind, If you wish to be happy, you must always be kind ; Be kind to each other, be kind to the birds. And they will repay you in songs withont words. rorXTKY SCENES AND PLEASURES. Published IN "The Preston Guardian." On ! the lK)nny buttercups, with their golden sheen, Glowing by the waysides, in meadow grass between ; The bonny golden buttercups, what memories they bring Of my happy childhood, wlicu I gathered them in spring. Oh ! the glorious woodlands, waving in the breeze, Where primroses and violets bloom beneath the trees ; And the bluebells springing from their mossy beds, Sparkle with bright dewdrops, resting on their heads. POEMS AND SONGS. 91 Oh 1 the gushinp cascade, in the ferny plen, Sweet as angels' whispers, are its rijiplings when Its streams are gently falling nVr the raossy stones. And roaring in wild fury when swollen by the rains. Oh ! the happy song l»irds, warltling all the day, Awaking sylvan echoes, wirh their joyous lay ; My memory often wanders hack to those sweet hours, When happy as the sony birds, I roamed among their bowers. Oh ! the shady dingles, where the purple bells. Oft the stately foxglove, bend al)0ve the rills ; Where the sqiiirr(d,hare, and phciisant, make their quiet home, Ami in sport and freedom, fearlessly can roam. Oh ! the little lambkins, playing in the grass. In their curly fleeces, bleating as you pass ; And the lowing cattle, wading in the streams, All arc glowing pictures, beautiful as dreams. Oh I the silver streamlets, shining in the sun. Dancing o'er the pebbles, ever moving on ; Rich in life and beauty, singing as they go, Onward, ever onward, pure and sweet they flow. Oh ! the mighty mountains, where the hart and roe. Oambol in wild fi-eedom, and sweet heath blossoms grow ; Glorious in their grandeur, majesty, and might, "Where the lordly eagles, make their home at night. Oh I sweet are the pleasures of a country life, Awav from all the turmoil of city's noisv strife ; They are pure and lasting, free as summer air. And to all who love them, a joy for evermore. 92 POEMS AND SONGS. THE LAW OF KINDXESS. Published in "The Preston Guardian" As a vonth, nnm< d Hany Ttimkins, wns walking one day, Hi' saw a