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 Wayside Blossoms, 
 
 
 POEMS 
 
 NOAH H, ALBAUGH, 
 
 DAYTON, OHIO. 
 
 GRONEWEG BROS., Pi blisheks, 
 
 1885. 
 
>h^ 
 
 ;^^' 
 
 Copyright, 1885, 
 By N. H. ALBAUGII. 
 
+- 
 
 To HER, 
 
 WHO HAS WALKED BY MY SIDE, ADOWN LIFE'S VALE, 
 
 THROUGH SUNSHINE AND SHADOW, 
 
 WHERE, WITHOUT HER HELP, LIFE MIGHT HAVE 
 
 BEEN A FAILURE. THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 "^ 
 
—h 
 
+- 
 
 -< — ^•"•P RE FACE 
 
 -^ 
 
 <^pRAV£LING- alnng life's ruggBd rnad, in ths 
 
 '^g> ramancE nf hayhnnd, in the ambilinns nf early 
 
 j- manhnad, struggling Dfttimes against fate, and 
 
 ^'-y the jaggBd edges nf a cold world's strife, and in 
 
 later years, as time and eccasinn have pennittEd, 
 
 these pnems have heen writtEn, They are hut wild 
 
 flnw^ers, plucked along life's thorny pathway, 
 
 anriong which my friends may find rosES, violets 
 
 and pansies to admire— perhaps j while the careless 
 
 or Indiffei'ent reader m.ay note only v/eeds and 
 
 grasses, 
 
 THE ilUTHDR, 
 
-4- 
 
 ->^^ C n NTE NT S , ^---• 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 " Two Times Two arc Four." 9 
 
 In Memoriam 16 
 
 Waiting and Watcliins 19 
 
 A Sonnet i26 
 
 Spring 27 
 
 The Village School Master 29 
 
 Smiles 31 
 
 Coming Home '. GL! 
 
 The Fading Coquette oG 
 
 In Faith, in Hope, in Charity (Masonic) 38 
 
 The Wolf-Pen Hill 43 
 
 Charlotte 46 
 
 He Didn't Have the Dimes 49 
 
 Does it Pay? 51 
 
 The Angler 54 
 
 My Home in the Country 56 
 
 Old Bachelor's Lament 59 
 
 Robin Red Breast 01 
 
>f_^ ^ — . — .^ 
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Allen Dale (13 
 
 A Poplar, Near Our Cottage Door Go 
 
 Fizzleville Town— A Parody 07 
 
 Brother Frank and 1 70 
 
 Autumn Eve 72 
 
 Ananias Brown 7") 
 
 " Friendship, Love and Truth." SI 
 
 Farming Song 83 
 
 The Harvester Sfi 
 
 The Four Virtues S7 
 
 Out Upon the Farm S'J 
 
 Harvest Song HI 
 
 Sowing and Reaping 'x; 
 
 My Dear Old Home 'X) 
 
—h 
 
 
 -- ,';TN the early new-born ages, 
 "^4 In the 
 
 C) 
 
 ;N the earl 
 
 long, long time ago, 
 
 cJ.- Lived there kings and priests and sages, 
 
 In this Avorld of ours beloAv, 
 
 And among them one who pondered 
 
 Over queer, strange points of lore — 
 
 And 'tis said he first discovered 
 
 That " Two times two are four." 
 
 Does it strike you as surprising 
 
 That such a thing should be? 
 Or that this should have the least to do 
 
 With such a "folk" as we? 
 Ah! it rings the very key-note 
 
 Of our days works o'er and o'er. 
 In this noisy, busy, bustling world, 
 
 Where " Two times two are four." 
 
 -^ 
 
>f. 
 
 TWO TJMES TWO ARK FOUR. 
 
 How perplexing and exacting! 
 
 And how hard this iron rule! 
 It seems so niiieh like paying tax, 
 
 Or learning tasks at school. 
 And can this rule he never lient ? 
 
 No M'ay to bridge it o'er? 
 And must it always come to us 
 
 That "Two times two are four?" 
 
 Ah! very wisely was tliis rule 
 
 Invented, long ago. 
 Else had the world entirely stopped, 
 
 Or turned so very slow 
 That all mankind had gone to sleep. 
 
 Without a thing to do, 
 And would have dreamed their lives away. 
 
 If "Two times two" were tivn. 
 
 Yes, "Two times two are four" — that's sure- 
 
 They know it at the 1)ank; 
 The organ grinder learns the rule. 
 
 And swifter turns the crank. 
 The shopman hustles 'mongst his wares — 
 
 The bootl)lack at liis door, 
 All are astir witli hustling life, 
 
 For " Two times two are four." 
 
 10 
 
TWO TIMES TWO ARE FOUR. 
 
 O! wondrous rule, that goes so glib — 
 
 It multiplies our gains; 
 It adds to each and every act, 
 
 It doul)les up our pains. 
 It piles uj) loads and loads of woe. 
 
 Increases all our store, 
 This ever grim and grinding rule 
 
 Of '"Two times two are four." 
 
 Aye, "Two times two are four," he says, 
 
 Who, starting out in life, 
 Adds to the two strong arms — his own — 
 
 Two twining ones — his wife's ; 
 And, as adown life's vale they go. 
 
 Their spirits seem to soar. 
 For douhling joys is heaven's l)liss. 
 
 Where "Two times two are four." 
 
 " Twice two are four," the merchant cries, 
 
 And rushes into trade, 
 Where fortunes come, and fortunes go, 
 
 As sunlight glints through shade. 
 Well will it he, wdien years are past, 
 
 And life's work all is done. 
 It does not show upon his books 
 
 That "Two times two" is one! 
 u 
 
 ■i— 
 
 4 
 
+ 
 
 TWO TIMES TWO ARE FOUR. 
 
 The pastor stands behind his desk, 
 
 And fears his labor lost — 
 The buried talent was not blessed^ 
 
 Life's hopes are temj^est-tossed. 
 At length, the seed so widely sown 
 
 Brings forth of fruit a score, 
 And souls come flocking home to God, 
 
 For " Two times two are four." 
 
 The downward road, how closely pressed 
 
 By votaries of crime. 
 The tares thus sown will bear their fruit 
 
 At coming harvest time I 
 They find, at last, when all too late, 
 
 AV'^hen heart-sick, faint and sore, 
 Eternal justice holds the scales ! 
 
 And " Two times two are four." 
 
 But why thus preach ? — leave that to those 
 
 With abler head and heart ; 
 This rule could hardly well apply 
 
 To horticultural art. 
 Be nat too sure — unerring laws 
 
 Guide all beneath the sky, 
 And mathematics rules the world. 
 
 For " figures can not lie." 
 
 12 
 
 4, 4. 
 
->f 
 
 TWO TIMES TWO ARE FOUR. 
 
 " Ben Davis " wears a leathery coat, 
 
 And flavor — none to waste; 
 The blight-proof Kieffer-Hybrid pear 
 
 Can ravish no one's taste. 
 The Richmond cherry — wild goose plum— 
 
 We plant all by the score; 
 They're not the finest, yet we plant, 
 
 For "Two times two are four." 
 
 The acid Wilson makes us think, 
 
 Of sugar, by the pound. 
 In sourest grapes — so sure to bear, 
 
 Our profits oft are found. 
 A lump of metal, rough and dull 
 
 Brings forth the Itrightest ore. 
 Life's blazing furnace clears of dross, 
 
 For "Two. times two are four." 
 
 We hear of fruits, so new and grand. 
 
 It seems a fable told; 
 "Apples of silver,'' sure they be. 
 
 And hung on stems of gold! 
 We buy, we plant, we grow, we prune. 
 
 We wait and watch, and then 
 We feel quite sure we've changed the rule 
 
 To "Two times two are" ten! 
 
 13 
 
^ ^ 
 
 TWO TIMES TWO ARE FOUR. 
 
 Alas! we find, as years roll by, 
 
 And all with lalior fraught, 
 Our rule has changed — how sad tlie change 
 
 To "Two times two are" — naught! 
 We gather up life's wel) and woof, 
 
 With hand and heart full sore. 
 And grope our way back to the good 
 
 Old '• Two times two are four." 
 
 This "Two times two" how can it be? 
 
 For, sure as Tm alive ! 
 The l)uds and blossoms ])romise oft, 
 
 It should be twenty-fioe! 
 But frosts and sleets, and winds, and snows. 
 
 And unseen things, a score, 
 Witli beetles, bugs, and worms and slugs 
 
 Bring back the count to " Four." 
 
 "Two" is our capital, at hand. 
 
 Of money, muscle, l)rain, 
 And "times two" is the part we add 
 
 Of lal)or, toil, and pain. 
 By "sweat of brow" we prosper here — 
 
 No royal road to lore — 
 We only get what we have earned — 
 
 For " Two times two are four." 
 
 14 
 
TWO TIMES TWO AllE FOUR. 
 
 "Four," did you say? Yes, only four — 
 
 Why long for greater pelf? 
 You can not grasp your n-jighbor's share 
 
 Without you wrong yourself. 
 Aye, rob 3-ourself of self-respect, 
 
 Of kind heart, good and true — 
 'T were better far to give and gke^ 
 
 'Till " Two times two are " two. 
 
 The roses bloom along our path, 
 
 The thorns likewise appear. 
 Destroy the thorn, but spare the rose, 
 
 And water with a tear. 
 The sympathy of human heart — 
 
 How precious is the gem ! 
 It soothes the sad and desolate — 
 
 'Tis ''two times two" to them. 
 
 Let "two times two" be then, our rule, 
 
 Nor seek a greater share, 
 For only "two times two" is ours. 
 
 What's more belongs elsewhere. 
 And should we reach that happy land. 
 
 Where angel spirits soar. 
 We need not blush, because we lived 
 
 By " Two times two are four." 
 1.1 
 
In ^ffi^moFiam, 
 
 ^^y'HEN the fife and drum resounded 
 All this fertile valley o'er, 
 
 '^^ When the boys in blue were forming, 
 
 As the stars and stripes they bore. 
 Then true hearts beat high and throbbing, 
 
 Tears and sighs bade sad good-bye, 
 And the soldier marched awa}^ to save 
 
 His country, or to die. 
 
 And gathered round the evening hearth 
 
 Were mother, sister, wife, 
 And gray-haired father glancing o'er 
 
 The news of daily strife; 
 And lists were scanned with bated breath. 
 
 And mingled hope and fear. 
 Lest some dear name among the dead 
 
 Or wounded, there appear. 
 
 16 
 
>f- 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 And, far away on Shiloh's field, 
 
 Or Nashville's bloody hill, 
 Or in Virginia's mountains, 
 
 The boys were absent still. 
 Days came and went and came again. 
 
 And weary weeks went by ; 
 Weeks grew to months and months to years, 
 
 Nor was the end yet nigh. 
 
 The l)lue-eyed l)oy, tliat mother loved, 
 
 A sister's joy and pi'ide — 
 Had sickened in the camj) or ticld, 
 
 And for his country died. i 
 
 And strong arms, once the stay and shield 
 
 Of wife or jirattling ba))e, 
 In shady glen, or dark ravine. 
 
 In nameless ii'rave were laid. 
 
 Those were the days that tried men's souls - 
 
 Ah, me ! what tears were shed — 
 For many a wife at morning rose, 
 
 A V'idow went to bed ! 
 ''God and the right" — their hope and trust, 
 
 And from o'er mounds of earth, 
 Prayers were recorded high in Heaven — = 
 
 Thus freedom had its birth. 
 
 17 
 
^ 
 
 IN MEMO RI AM. 
 
 War is not pomp and glory, 
 
 But made of sterner parts, 
 Its fiery furnace melts the dross 
 
 And brings forth nol)ler hearts. 
 Though bathed in tears and orphan's sighs, 
 
 The story will abide, 
 How freedom triumphed, slavery fell. 
 
 And God was justified. 
 
 Forget them ! rather let us vow. 
 
 While reason holds her throne. 
 We '11 call them Freedom's heroes. 
 
 And claim them as our own. 
 The faded suit of heavenly ))lue 
 
 Shall brighter shine than gold, 
 And tell the story down life's page 
 
 Till Time grows gray and old. 
 
 All h(uior to our soldiers, brave ! 
 
 They died, but not in vain ; 
 Green be their graves in shady dell, 
 
 On hillside, or on plain ; 
 And may fair hands bright flowers strew, 
 
 Affection drop a tear, 
 And memory bring them back to us, 
 
 Each day throughout the year ! 
 
 18 
 
-•h 
 
 ana wmatcmna, 
 
 (Read before Montgomery County Horticultural Society, ISSO.) 
 
 ^] 
 
 /S the student trims his niglit himp, 
 Weary o'er a task half done ; 
 As the ca})tain, after victory, 
 
 Restless waits for honors won ; 
 As the watcher by the sick bed 
 
 Longs the coming of the morn ; 
 As the sailor in the night-storm 
 
 Eager waits the welcome dawn ; 
 As the co}^ and Ijlushing maiden 
 
 Lists the sound of lover's feet ; 
 As the silent, gray-haired father 
 
 Waits the prodigal to greet; 
 As the youthful Esculapius 
 
 Watches, business like, for ills; 
 As the lawyer sighs for fees, 
 
 And the merchant longs for Ijills ; 
 As the yawning, sleepy wife, 
 
 Lonely, wonders " (chat-in-fate 
 
 19 ■ 
 
 -+ 
 
4- 'h 
 
 WMTlNiJ AND WATCIILXa. 
 
 They are doing at that lodge, to-ni.iil it 
 
 That John stays out so late;" 
 As the hunter, lost, hewildered, 
 
 Longs for home and glowing hearth ; 
 As the mischief-loving school boy 
 
 Counts the hours till noonday's mirth ; 
 So do we, as horticulturists, 
 
 Wait the coming of the s})ring; 
 Wait and watch with fears and ho[)iugs 
 
 For the treasures she may bring. 
 
 Waiting are wc foi- t]\o hillsides 
 
 To i)ut on their coat of green; 
 Watching for the rii)j.)ling streandet, 
 
 Glittering in its silvery sheen ; 
 Longing for "Jack Frost's" de})arture, 
 
 For the sunshine and the May; 
 Sighing for relief from mud and slush. 
 
 And cloudy, gloomy day. 
 
 Oh, this changing, fussy weather! 
 
 What a sul)ject for remark 
 At the office, in the parlor, 
 
 At the dawning and the dark. 
 While your friend your hand is clas})ing. 
 
 You may be sure he'll say, 
 
 ■20 
 
WAITING AND WATCIIIXU. 
 
 " What a dreary, dismal time is this, 
 How dark and dull the day!" 
 
 And each winter, as it comes and goes, 
 
 The "lounger" at the "store" 
 Makes bold to say there never was 
 
 Such weather seen before ; 
 Thermometers are out of tune, 
 
 And he declares in truth. 
 There never was such weather 
 
 Since his very earliest youth; 
 And the farmer says " he- hie^v it," 
 
 "For wan't the corn liusks thin. 
 And didn't the muskrat build no mound 
 
 Where he goes out and in? 
 But the ground-hog saw his shadow, 
 
 And we'll pay for all this fun. 
 For we'll have enough of winter yet 
 
 Before the thing is done !" 
 And the blacksmith, chiming in, 
 
 With a lew impatient shrugs, 
 Declares upon his honor 
 
 That ''this ineathcr bcdts the biirjs/'^ 
 
 And so each day and hour 
 We're told with solemn mien, 
 
 •21 
 
-+ 
 
 WAITING AND WATCHING. 
 
 That what is hapi)ening now and here 
 
 Plas never, never been ! 
 And we half believe the story, 
 
 Till some sage (who keeps a book 
 Where he jots down all the weather) 
 
 Says with knowing air and look, 
 "This' is just the kind of weather 
 
 That we had some years ago. 
 And that seasons but repeat themselves. 
 
 Is what we all should know." 
 Then we drop the subjeet quickly. 
 
 To begin next breath again. 
 And " wonder in our very souls 
 
 If it's a going to rain!" 
 
 But the coming of the spring-time, 
 
 What a mask it tears away! 
 It strips the robe of wintry night. 
 
 And heralds forth the day ; 
 The day of pinks and roses, 
 
 ()f violets' breath and bloom, 
 Of sunny slopes, of verdant meads. 
 
 Of orchards' sweet perfume. 
 The last year's friends we laid to rest 
 
 'Neath beds of leafy mold, 
 
 ►f- 
 
— + 
 
 WAITIXG AXI) WATCHING. 
 
 Are resurrecting, one l)y one, 
 From winter's snow and cold ; 
 
 And as each tiny leaflet 
 
 Creeps forth in glad delight, 
 
 We hail it as a friend returned 
 From winter's chilly night. 
 
 The orchardist scans closely 
 
 Each blossom as it opes; 
 His heart depressed or buoyant — 
 
 Alternate fears and hopes — 
 Hope that the blustering breezes 
 
 Have spared reward for care; 
 Fear that the icy mantles 
 
 Have left all bleak and bare. 
 
 The feathered songsters warble 
 
 A new-found Southern lay. 
 To charm our hearts with sweetness. 
 
 And drive our cares away; 
 The zephyr toys with silvery locks, 
 
 And fans the sallow cheek, 
 Then hies away o'er flower and held, 
 
 New beauties there to seek. 
 
T rJ / TIX( / AND WA T CHI AG . 
 
 Meanwhile we're up and doing; 
 
 The lettuce must be sown, 
 The " festive onion " put to bed, 
 
 The radish seed well strown ; 
 The "berry plat" looked after. 
 
 The pushing crowns given space. 
 For "Forest Rose" and " Sharpless " 
 
 Are on a "booming" race; 
 And over in a neighboring "])lat" 
 
 The "Gregg" is whispering too, 
 And boasting to the "Turner" 
 
 What he intends to do. 
 The "Snider" shakes his raven lucks, 
 
 And cries, "Who cares for snow!" 
 But "Lawton" wraps his fingers u]) 
 
 And sighs, "It nips me so!" 
 The grown-up folks are up and out. 
 
 And staring far and wide, 
 Miss "Richmond" with her snowy crown. 
 
 Sir "Bartlett" by her side. 
 " Louise Bonne," the laughing maid, 
 
 Is waltzing with " Sweet Bough ;" 
 Old "Harvest" dancing with Miss "Gage," — 
 
 A wreath adorns his brow. 
 
 -+ 
 
-4< 
 
 I r. 1 / Tixa A XI) WA T( iiixa. 
 
 lUit hold! I must be dreaming, 
 
 Wliat did tlic farmer say? 
 "We're not a going to see fair spring 
 
 For x/.r irrrks (unl a ddiiT 
 More mud, moi-e slush, more I'reezes, 
 
 More I'ain, more sleet, more snow; 
 O dear! when will this winter end? 
 
 What makes the spring so slow! 
 
 So we're waiting, and we're watching, 
 Waiting for the coming spring; 
 
 Watching for the lights and shadows, 
 P^or the treasures she ma\^ hi'i n<r. 
 
 4-- 
 
 ■+ 
 
+- 
 
 -^jwOVE and fond affection flashes, 
 (^ Unpolluted from thy lashes, 
 ci^^ Causing many sweet reflections 
 In my fondest recollections. 
 Now and then our lips are meeting; 
 Dreamingly our hearts are Ideating, 
 And when love can doubt no longer, 
 Beauty makes it still the stronger. 
 Ever to my heart thou'rt nearest; 
 Ever to my soul thou'rt dearest. 
 Should this dream of life awaken, 
 Or our earthly bliss be shaken, 
 Never shalt thou be forsaken. 
 
 26 
 
 -^ 
 
+- 
 
 ?^PRIN(i is coming, S})riiig is coming, 
 Hear the bees and insects liumming ; 
 
 Join the cheer. 
 Flowers are peeping, flowers are peeping, 
 From the earth each blade is creeping — 
 Spring is near. 
 
 Birds are singing, birds are singing, 
 On the breeze their lays are ringing 
 
 All around. 
 Brooks are rumbling, brooks are rumbling, 
 (Ter the rocky pathway tumbling: 
 
 Sweet the sound. 
 
 Boughs are waving, boughs are waving, 
 In the air their young shoots laving 
 Kiss the breeze. 
 
 — 4< 
 
+- 
 
 Leaves are forming, leaves are foriiiiiig, 
 Fickle suns the buds are warming 
 On the trees. 
 
 Boys are playing, boys ai-e playing. 
 In the mead the horse is neighing; 
 
 Lightsome glee. 
 Shadows dancing, shadows dancing, 
 O'er the field the colt is prancing 
 
 Fair and free. 
 
 Zephyrs sighing, zc])hyi's sigliing, 
 On the ear the sound is dying; 
 
 As it flies. 
 Swiftly winging, swiftly winging 
 L}) in ail' the lark mounts singing 
 
 To the skies. 
 
 Time is fleeing, time is fleeing, 
 Strife and sorrow none foreseeing — 
 
 Hope and fear. 
 Earth is trouble, earth is trouble. 
 Fame and honor all a bul)ble — 
 
 Spring is here. 
 
 * ± 
 
-+ 
 
 ^h^ 
 
 m 
 
 K sits in an anti(|U(' l)uilding grim, 
 With musty books around, 
 :'}'•- Where nothing of import touches liiin 
 Sa\'(' that stealthy wliisj)ering sound. 
 
 As the comic dunce ])ehind his l)()ok 
 liis I'ustic face doth hide, 
 
 And si)eaks vvitli a cautious, cunning look, 
 To liis neigld)()r liy liis side. 
 
 There are sunny curls and I'aven hair, 
 
 And locks of a smooth dark brown; 
 There are smiling faces free from care, 
 
 And a few that wear a frown. 
 There are bright V)lack eyes, which are twinkling 
 too. 
 
 Like those of the ^^ild wood fawn. 
 And they cast a glance at the eyes of blue 
 
 When the master's gaze is gone. 
 
>f , + 
 
 77//'J VILLAGE SCIIOOL-M.ISTLJR. 
 
 His labor is constant, scarce a thought 
 
 Is turned from the books all day ; 
 And many a cheer has the pilot got, 
 
 As he guides them on their way. 
 And when he goes to his rest at night, 
 
 He thinks with a tranquil mind, 
 Of a world above, a world of liglit, 
 
 And the cares he'll leave behind. 
 
 Yet thougli Ids calling is noble and high. 
 
 And one of a great, great gain, 
 Tlie public oft look with a careless eye 
 
 And a scornful, half disdain 
 ri)on the man who instructs their youth 
 
 In the path of life to tread. 
 Who teaches the road of honor and ti'uth 
 
 To the children of the dead. 
 
 The statesman may l)oast of the cheers and cries 
 
 He has won from the patriot throng! 
 Let him hasten here and yield the prize 
 
 To a meeker lip of song. 
 The proud old peer in his robe of state — 
 
 Though the world has made it a rule — 
 When rightl}' judged is not half so great 
 
 As the "Guide" of the village school. 
 :;o 
 
 -f ^ 
 
-+ 
 
 'railgi 
 
 (-,^^^HIS world is a world ot grid and woe, 
 rJr^ A world of unceasing care; 
 
 We nourish a tear for the past as we go, 
 For the future a happier share. 
 lUit yet in tliis medley of toils and stiife 
 
 Where the slanderer's tongue l)eguiles, 
 How great is the pleasure it gives us in life 
 To win from another sweet smiles. 
 
 As the lilies of peaee l)loom around our feet 
 
 In the heautiful valley of youth, 
 And the moments of time Hy (piick and fleet 
 
 Blent with virtue and heauty and truth, 
 And the viny crown of the goddess Health 
 
 Is daintily tinging the cheek. 
 Ah! who w(nild exchange for the wand of wealth 
 
 The smiles of a sister meek. 
 :!l 
 
SMILES. 
 
 The t^uuniier oiicc past then thi' autuni coiucs 
 
 With its mantle of })ur])Ie and gold, 
 And the dingy Avood invites to roams 
 
 '^lid its clusters and mosses old. 
 The little hirds twitter their farewell lays 
 
 To the Author of light ahove, 
 How like unto them is our heart's full praise 
 
 At the smiles of our ''heart's first love." 
 
 But a ha])piness greater than all tlie rest, 
 
 Ah! a rapture exceeding tlie wliole — 
 Awaking the tenderest chords in the Iji'cast — 
 
 Is yet left to enraptui'e the sold. 
 That })leasure though sim})le enough in one sense, 
 
 In another is dearer than life — 
 Come, l)achelors, forward, let's hear your defense — 
 
 'Tis the smile of a true loving; wife! 
 
 Hh- 
 
 --l^ 
 
-Hh 
 
 GV- 
 
 ^.\XG ii[) tlic laiiii). (k'ar wil'c, lur me 
 
 For r am coming ]iomc to tliec. 
 To thee, to-night. 
 
 & 
 
 Out from tile cold woi'ld's din and strife, 
 
 With care o})jiress"d ; 
 Home, to a true and loving wife, 
 
 For peaee and I'est. 
 
 Three j)airs of roguish eyes, so hright, 
 
 Were wont to })eer . 
 Into the gath'ring, darkening night, 
 
 For father, dear. 
 
 Three ])airs of toddling, })attering feet 
 Would hurrvino; come 
 
 .^ 
 
-^ 
 
 ( 'OMIXG HOME. 
 
 To ope the door, and papa greet, 
 To hearth and home. 
 
 One pair of feet lie still and cold, 
 
 Beneath the sod ; 
 One pair of eyes on eartli have closed, 
 
 To ope with (xod. 
 
 Heavy the load of this world's care, 
 
 How often made; 
 Heavy the load — and hard to l)ear 
 
 Without His aid. 
 
 The whitening hair, tlie furrowed 1)row, 
 
 May tell of tears ; 
 Our hearts are young — our love, I trow, 
 
 Will grow, with years. 
 
 Through sunshine fair, and shadows dark, 
 
 We'll grope our way, 
 Keeping in view the shining mark 
 
 Of perfect day. 
 
 When life is pass'd, and we, at last, 
 Reach that lone shore. 
 
 "i^ 
 
coMixa HOME. 
 
 W'itli longing- eyes, and ycaniing hearts 
 ( )iir toils all o'er. 
 
 May we see afar, like glitt'ring star, 
 
 Through mist and gloom, 
 The soul, in joy, of our bless'd hoy. 
 
 To guide v>< home. 
 
 -+ 
 
+- 
 
 ^hs. 2^diiri|g ^oqu^lls. 
 
 ■y- t^r- 
 
 ITIT lieodloss lioiind tlic weeks roll roiuia 
 
 It surely can not l»e 
 
 ■^ '" Two years auo, or nearly so, 
 
 That I was t\venty-tlir(^e. 
 How (jiiiekly passM these twelve months, last, 
 
 A)i(l true as I'm alive, 
 My l)irth-(layV here! — another year — 
 
 This makes me twentv-five! 
 
 Mv mirror old, it must 1)e sold. 
 
 It takes the strangest freaks; 
 What makes it so? — why don't it show 
 
 A pair of rosy eheeks? 
 The heaiix, somehow, are distant now, 
 
 The cause I can't contrive, 
 Unless, forsooth, the simple truth 
 
 That 1 am twenty-five! 
 
.^ 
 
 THE FADIXd ('(XH'J'JTTE. 
 
 ITdw wondrous great a])pears of late, 
 
 A score of years, 1 ween ; 
 It is not more than half a score. 
 
 Since I was '"sweet sixteen." 
 But now the folks do pass their jokes; 
 
 My youth I can't revive; 
 Yet what's the use of this al)use, 
 
 I'm only twenty-five! 
 
 Oh! if 1 could, I (|uickly would, 
 
 To oilers that I've had, 
 Say "yes sir-ree, U)y dearest D ," 
 
 And he so awful uhid. 
 Those ehances })asse<l — my lot is cast, 
 
 Though ardently I strive, 
 'Tis all in vain to rack my hrain — 
 
 Alas, I'm twenty-live! 
 
 What else in life is like a wife 
 
 To soothe man's care and grief. 
 To drown liis woes, to mend his clothes, 
 
 And give his heart relief. 
 Yet, after all, though many call, 
 
 No calls for me arrive ; 
 Again, again, the case is plain — 
 
 Oh, I am twentv-tive! 
 
4- . , , ^4- 
 
 'n "^aicrij in gr^o|pa;j iii pfnaFi 
 
 T^EAR brethren of the mystic tie, 
 _-j-^ I'm with you once again to-night; 
 I meet the kindly l)eaming eye, 
 I see tlie hieroglyphic light. 
 We come to "work" in Mason's art — 
 
 We come to kneel around our shrine, 
 With JKind in hand, and heart to heart, 
 We meet and greet in love Divine. 
 
 We 've trod the same syml)olie road. 
 
 With doubt and darkness all around ; 
 We 've placed our solemn " trust in CJod," 
 
 And light and joy alike were found. 
 The winding stair-way has been passed, 
 
 We've drawn our "wage" as Masons do; 
 We've stood in sacred awe at last 
 
 Before His name so u'rand and ti'ue. 
 
 +- 
 
IX FA IT II, IX HOPE, IX CHARITY. 
 
 Death comes at length, to all mankind — 
 
 How solemn and how sad the strain ! 
 But glory he to Him, we tind 
 
 Through Judah's Lion, life again. 
 Our life helow is full of care, 
 
 But joy supreme, the life ahove; 
 This glorious promise all can share. 
 
 This glorious truth — through His own love. 
 
 "(Jood work " and true, "square work," alone, 
 
 Will jiass tlie great Inspector's eye ; 
 Though l)ut (mr hour we toil, unknown. 
 
 We '11 get full wages, " l)ye and hye." 
 If called to till the Eastern cliair, 
 
 "Presiding o'er the sons of light," 
 May we l)e just and courteous, there, 
 
 Repress the wrong, uphold the right. 
 
 The temple finished, then they stand 
 
 And see the fire from Heaven come down, 
 And glory fills the House — and grand 
 
 The cape-stone rises to the crown. 
 For " He is good," His mercies sure 
 
 Endureth until time shall cease — 
 "Most excellent" and good and pure 
 
 Are all things blessed through His grace. 
 
 4- .. --^ 
 
JX FA J Til, I.\ IIOI'E, IX CHARiry. 
 
 By Babylon tlii'y sat them down. 
 
 And wept for distant, native land; 
 But hark! the trumpet's loudest sound — 
 
 "Good news! good news!" on every hand. 
 The shackles fall, the cvaptives, free. 
 
 Return to liome and hearth once more, 
 Through toil and danger, tliough it be. 
 
 Their goal is reached — the Jordan's shore. 
 
 At dead of night, by ''three times three," 
 
 And thrice again, the craftsmen toil; 
 Their aim is noble, and liow free 
 
 They burn the mystic, midnight oil. 
 Let watchman weary not, nor sleej). 
 
 Lest foes invade, or thieves })Urloin, 
 F'or if we slumber, who sliall keep 
 
 Our conscience door — life's precious coin? 
 
 Ze-rub-l:)a.-bel, the noble Jew, 
 
 A prince of Judah — ^Lason, he, 
 Though l)ound in cliains, yet friendsliij) true 
 
 Unloosed the bands, and set him free. 
 'Mongst nobles, princes, wit and song. 
 
 At festive board, in regal hall. 
 Women and wine and kings were strong, 
 
 Yet God-like Truth excelled them all. 
 
 10 
 
>i< . ^ 
 
 IN FAITH, IN HOPE, IN CHARITY. 
 
 Jesus of Nazareth, poor, reviled, 
 
 An outcast in His native land ; 
 Though meek and lowly as a child — 
 
 His life and death, how true and grand ! 
 He died for us — He rose again, 
 
 That we, in Him, from death may rise. 
 And hear the sweet angelic strain 
 
 In mansions fair, heyond the skies. 
 
 How sacred and how great the name ; 
 
 We speak it low, in solemn awe; 
 Let no man dare profane the same, 
 
 But fear the stern and holy law. 
 Fair s'irtue bind, with endless ring, 
 
 Tlie })ure and good, in peace and love. 
 Till time our great reward shall bring. 
 
 And re-unite our souls above. 
 
 Oh ! may we ne'er forsake our vows, 
 
 Though tempted sore -^ by fire though tried; 
 We '11 build the walls of God's own house 
 
 With sword and troAvel — side by side. 
 Shouhl barl;)arous hordes dispute our way, 
 
 Or royal splendor daze the eye. 
 Eternal Trutli, our guide and stay. 
 
 We'll lirmly stand — to do or die! 
 
 41 
 4.^ . . ^-..^ .4. 
 
■+ 
 
 IN FAITH, IN HOPE, IN CHARITY. 
 
 The " ancient " craftsmen's solemn tread, 
 
 The chant in low, melodious strain. 
 Will show us that the " Rose," though dead, 
 
 Shall rise to life, and hloom again. 
 No other Name 'mongst men is given 
 
 To ope the Book, or look therein; 
 No other Name in earth or Heaven 
 
 Can cleanse the human heart from sin. 
 
 A long and lonely journe}' ta'en. 
 
 May lead to sad and ghostly scenes. 
 The Cup may press our lips again. 
 
 Though danger often intervenes. 
 A faith that's firm, will ne'er give o'er, 
 
 A hope, well anchored, ne'er is lost. 
 We'll reach, at last, that peaceful shore. 
 
 Where barques no more are tempest-tossed. 
 
 Then, "brethren of the mystic tie," 
 . I'm with you, once again, to-night. 
 We 've traveled far, yet still descry 
 
 That radiant arch, so clear and bright. 
 Hail Masonry! blest art, divine! 
 
 Thy lessons, pure, enchant the soul — 
 And may men's hearts to thee incline. 
 
 Till tide and time shall cease to roll. 
 
''^olf^^m ^ill/' 
 
 ^HE "Wolf-pen Hill " is a pleasant knoll, 
 
 Where my father's cottage stands; — 
 So called by the hardy jnoneers, 
 Who first surveyed these lands; 
 The mighty oak and the giant ash, 
 
 By his stroke have been felled, meanwhile, 
 And the verdant meads, and the pleasant fields, 
 Around in ])eauty smile. 
 
 It was there I passed my boyhood's years, 
 
 When my heart with joy was rife; 
 It was there I shed those boyhood tears, 
 
 For the cares of boyhoods' life. 
 Since my foot that gentle slope hath press'd. 
 
 Long years have lied, forsooth. 
 And a silent wish prevades my Ijreast, 
 
 To review the scenes of vouth. 
 
 -4 
 
►f . — ■ ^ 
 
 THE " WOLF-PEN HILL." 
 
 I would roam that mead in the tender Spring, 
 
 When the violets blue, appear, 
 I would cull the daisy, that fragrant thing. 
 
 And the lily and cowslips dear. 
 I would visit the wood in Avitumn brown. 
 
 When chill is the stirring Ijreeze, 
 And climb, and shake the rich nuts down 
 
 From the spreading hickory trees. 
 
 I would turn the soil with the jocund team, 
 
 And whistle along my way ; 
 While a week thus passed would only seem 
 
 Like that of a single day. 
 And when the corn from the fruitful earth 
 
 Had ripened — and 'rose the strain 
 Of the happy liarvest song — in mirth, 
 
 I would pluck the golden grain. 
 
 I would, wlien the ice-king reigns witliout. 
 
 Bind the skates to my sportive feet. 
 And skim the pond with a joyful shout. 
 
 While the moments flew quick and fleet. 
 I would trace the hare through the drifting snow. 
 
 With old "Jowler" by my side — 
 I would crack the whip, and away I'd go, 
 
 On a dashing, swift sleigh-ride. 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
-+ 
 
 THE " WOLF-PEX HILL." 
 
 I would draw my chair to that cosy nook 
 
 By the cheerful parlor fire, 
 And with wrapt-up thoughts peruse some l)ook 
 
 As the blaze kept mounting higher. 
 When father returned from a neighboring town, 
 
 Cold and wet, with the latest mails, 
 I would stable old "Rock," and then sit down 
 
 And read romantic tales. 
 
 I would skip the hall when the gleeful shout 
 
 Of the merry dancing throng 
 From many a bosom fair rang out, 
 
 As they joined in a gladsome song. 
 And mingle, I would, in the ha})py group 
 
 Of lads and lasses meek, 
 As the joyful, sportive, childish troup 
 
 Took a game at " hide and seek." 
 
 Alas ! those scenes of my youth are fled. 
 
 Those scenes of my childhood's years ; 
 And the cares of life have decked my head, 
 
 While my eyes are tilled with tears. 
 With contentment, I should bear my lot, 
 
 For this is the key-stone, still. 
 But my heaH't will sigh for that fairy spot, 
 
 For that home on the "Wolf-pen Hill." 
 
 45 
 
 +- 
 
)liaFloll^ 
 
 NEW her well — country belle — 
 
 Bright black eyes and raven hair- 
 Graceful carriage — scouted marriage 
 • Tied her ruffles on with care. 
 
 Country belle — 
 
 Wouldn't sell 
 'Cause she did n't want " to pair." 
 
 She and brother loved each other, 
 
 So the country people said ; 
 Donned Love's fetters — wrote long letters - 
 Letters that I sometimes read — 
 Tricked each other — 
 I and brother 
 "Hook'd" his letters when in bed. 
 
 4ti 
 
-+ 
 
 CHARLOTTE. 
 
 Wanted knowledge — went to college — 
 
 8taid a year and somewhat more ; 
 Came home witty — 'tarnal pretty — 
 Love was stronger than before. 
 Went to college 
 8he, for knowledge ; 
 Came home all for love of yore. 
 
 Bound to marry — wouldn't tarry — 
 
 Least, appearances said so ; 
 Tried to tell him that she'd "sell" him— 
 No less loth was he to go. 
 Wouldn't tarry — 
 Bound to marry — 
 Simple reason — loved her — Oh ! 
 
 Went on swimming — cup was l)rimming 
 
 Full of pleasure, ^\\i and joy — 
 Call'd her "honey" — spent his money 
 Buying candies — ah ! the boy. 
 Cup was brimming — 
 Things went swimming — 
 Little thought he of decoy. 
 
 47 
 
+- 
 
 —A 
 
 CHARLOTTE. 
 
 She was pretty — and coquette-y — 
 Silks and satins graced her back; 
 He was jolly — lover's folly — 
 Made all rivals le.ave the track. 
 Yes, coquette-y — 
 And quite pretty, 
 'Till she gave the boy the "sack." 
 
 +- 
 
 48 
 
-+ 
 
 m 
 
 C Ihg, l^lTT^^f , 
 
 IKXP'W a fair-hairt'd maiden. 
 She was lovely, mild and meek ; 
 V'Tlie si)ring of youth had laden 
 With I'osy tints, her cheek, 
 The pinks of sixteen summers, 
 
 Had l)lo()nied around her there, 
 And the l)ees — those Inisy hummers 
 ('ouldn't tell of things more fair. 
 
 That she had a heart was certain; 
 
 For you oft nnuht Iiear it Ijeat, 
 When she sat liehind the curtain 
 
 ^^'ith a lover at her feet. 
 She rustle(l silks and satin, 
 
 Slie donned hoth red and lilue. 
 And she kept her foot a pattin' 
 
 \n a French niorocco shoe. 
 
 -^ 
 
IIK DIDX'T JIAVK THE DIMKS. 
 
 Her latlu'r owned In-oad acres, 
 
 And a mansion large, beside ; 
 He [)ai(l the jtastry l)akers, 
 
 And he lived on eakes — and })ride. 
 He talked of ships and water. 
 
 Of diamonds, gold nnd jx'arl. 
 And he always thought his daughter 
 
 Was a very charming girl. 
 
 A gallant came to woo her — 
 
 A lover young and gay ; 
 For the gallants had been fewer 
 
 Since she turned them all away. 
 He asked her hand^ — but treason! — 
 
 She sighed some fourteen times, 
 Then she gave the simi)le reason — 
 
 Oh! he didn't have the "dimes." 
 
 i 
 
 50 
 
loaB lit 
 
 (i3 
 
 ©- 
 
 >y()E8 it pay to cheat your neighbor 
 
 In a trade? 
 Does it pay to so deceive him? 
 Will it pay to disbelieve him ? 
 Will you feel, if thus you grieve him. 
 
 That it paid? 
 
 Does it ])ay to peddle gossi}) 
 
 All about? 
 Say that l^rown is a Free-thinker, 
 Oi', that Jones is but a "tinker," 
 ()!• that Smith's an awful drinkei' 
 
 Past all doubt? 
 
 Docs it pay to fret and worry 
 
 IJfe away ? 
 Just l)ecause some girl is pretty, 
 Or some other one is witty, 
 ()]■ some chap you know is '\gritty?" 
 
 Does it ? — saj/ ! 
 
t- 
 
 y>o/-;,v IT PAY ! 
 
 Docs it pay to get so "huft'y" — 
 
 Full of si)ite — • 
 Full of anger, you ean't smother, 
 So that when you meet your brother 
 You will scarce salute each other? 
 
 Is it right? 
 
 Does it i)ay to fault the preaelier, 
 
 So you live, — 
 If, perchance, he asks the .Mast(M' 
 To kee}» you I'rom disaster, 
 l)Ut to give you grace still fastci' 
 
 To forgive. 
 
 Arc you sure youi' iicart is hctter 
 
 Every day, 
 Tlian the man in diffrent station, 
 W'lio lias hoi'ue great trihuhition, 
 Wliile you never had temptation 
 
 In yovr way ? 
 
 Ah I we know not wliat surrounds us 
 
 In this life! 
 Who can tell what joy or sorrow 
 May l)efall us on tlu' morrow? — 
 Neither trouble, lend or borrow 
 
 \\\ the strife. 
 
■+ 
 
 DOKS IT I'A )'/ 
 
 As the lioiirs pass, in flcctiioss 
 
 Day liy day. 
 By tlic iiiotive, judge the action, 
 Nor witldidld tlic smallest fraction 
 Of just due, without detraction; — 
 
 T/idf will pay ! 
 
 --h 
 
■+ 
 
 >*' 
 
 inalav. 
 
 j^Av'^N angler sits astride a log, ' 
 ^-fpV [^|)()n the streamlet's shore, 
 d^ And from liis liand ])rotrudes a i-od 
 A dozen feet oi' more. 
 He gazes u\) and down the l)anks; 
 
 He thinks tlie day is tine: 
 And then lie easts a hasty glance 
 r]>on his rod and line. 
 
 He wonders if the front will hite. 
 
 So early in the Spring. 
 The trees are green — a lovely sight — 
 
 He hears the songsters sing. 
 'Ah, well!' thinks he, 'they're rather shy; 
 
 One needs to be (juite still, 
 I think ril eateli some by and l\v ; 
 
 Yes, I am snre I will." 
 
THE AXirLER. 
 
 Two hours long', lie watclics thcru, 
 
 Nor moves a foot or huiul : 
 WMth all tilt' })atien('c and the caru 
 
 An angler could command. 
 His rod then raising from the Ijrool 
 
 How awful to relate — 
 He stares -with horror on tiie hook: 
 
 He had forgot to 'I hi it!' 
 
)nll 
 
 s m ma m' 
 
 iTllFg. 
 
 \/'0U may talk of the iilcasurc of threading;' 
 ;1 ' The streets of the poimloiis town, 
 
 Where the l)ustl<' and elatter of Inisincss 
 Is lu'ard in monotonous round : 
 \Mierc the sj)inning i>f wheels and tlie elushin' 
 
 Of eal)-(loors are eonstantly heard, 
 And the ilauntin<;-, the (flitter of fashion 
 Rules all — and your talkin^'s ahsurd. 
 
 ^'ou may talk of the charms of the ()cean, 
 
 W'lui-c the finny herds fearlessly [)lay ; 
 A\'here the waves with a (juiveriny motion, 
 
 Hear your ship to l»i-i,uht lands far away : 
 Where the sea and sky grandly uniting. 
 
 Form level lioi'izons of hlue, 
 WhiTe is everything fit to delight in. 
 
 And you're talking eaj)rieiously too. 
 
 -+ 
 
-+ 
 
 MY HOME IX THE CO UN THY. 
 
 You uiiiy tell of tilt' joys sojourning 
 
 In distant and tropical lands : 
 And laugli at the thoughts of returning 
 
 To elasp heating hearts and warm hands ; 
 You may l)lissfully speak of the rapture 
 
 Of sealing volcanoes "down South," 
 And give us a wonderful cha})ter 
 
 On the helching old Crater's wide mouth. 
 
 You may tell of all these, and six'ak truly 
 
 The feelings that hurn in your hreast ; 
 For each one has ])leasures, which duly 
 
 Considered, must suit him tlie hest ; 
 As for me, I am none of your gentry 
 
 That dote on the city and hall : 
 For 1 love my own " Home in the Country," 
 
 Far hetter, far dearer than all. 
 
 Oh I Qixv me a home in tlie country, 
 
 Wheri' the little l)irds warhle and sing; 
 AMiere pi'iun-oses, hlue violets and daisies, 
 
 In cai-eless luxuriance spring; 
 Where the ri]>pling l>rook winds through green 
 meadows. 
 
 On its way to the cataract's fall : 
 Where is blending of sunbeams and shadows, 
 
 And I love them far dearer than all. 
 
 -+ 
 
+- 
 
 MY HOME IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 'Tis delight fills the heart to o'er flowing, 
 
 When rambling these fair scenes among, 
 'Tis in Nature's own lieanteous showing, 
 
 That we learn the first lessons of song. 
 The eyes and the mind drink in pleasure, 
 
 The lieart Ixiunds so lightly and free, 
 That romance will steal into each measure ; 
 
 Oh ! a " Home in the Country " for me. 
 
"f 
 
 )S^hs 
 
 0, here I'm again, I've a right to complain 
 When in my own room I am seated ; 
 O'^ '^And repeat all my woes, for every one knows 
 That I am most cruelly treated. 
 
 For only to think, if I hut make a wink 
 
 To add to a look or a feature, 
 With a terril)le shout, the girls will cry out 
 
 "Oh, dear! what a horrible creature." 
 
 I'm sure I can't see, what the reason can l)e. 
 
 That I am so shamefully slighted, 
 For if I stej) in, to ask how they've been. 
 
 They '11 tell me I was n't invited. 
 
 If I walk in the street, and happen to meet 
 Miss Morrow, who used to respect me, 
 
 And bid her "good day," she'll turn right away, 
 And pretend that she don't recollect me. 
 
 -+ 
 
OLD BACHELOR'S LAMENT. 
 
 Some ten years ago, folks didn't act so ; 
 
 But now, they look crusty and fretful, 
 If I show my face, at any nice place — 
 
 (I think they are very forgetful.) 
 
 I'm not just so old, if the truth must lie told - 
 For heaux who are older are plenty — 
 
 Yet still it appears, they are hinting at years. 
 When T am but eighteen i)lus twenty. 
 
 I am really afraid, that my fortune is made, 
 And my earthly doom settled forever; 
 
 Though somel»ody could, I know, if they would 
 Make a hus))aud of me — but no, never! 
 
 I am doomed to my fate, and only await 
 ^\\ departure — there's no use in stayiug — 
 
 And when I am dead, they will write at my head, 
 " He died of continued dclaviny;." 
 
 >h- 
 
 00 
 
■+ 
 
 (On his first apiiearaiioe in the Spring.) 
 
 ^HOU golden -breasted friend, 
 ^^^ We've missed thee long; 
 
 G''^' We've missed thy trilling note, 
 Th}' pi'oudly swelling throat — 
 We've missed tliy clieei-ful, soiil-insi)ii-ing song. 
 
 Whei'e hast thou l)een? — abroad, 
 
 In sunny land? 
 In rice held, chirping sweet? — 
 In cane-brake didst thou greet 
 The oriole and thrush, in joyous l»and? 
 
 Please tell us all tlie news 
 Of fruits and flowers ; 
 Of sweet and spicy gales — 
 A traveler's fairy tales — 
 Of verdant meads, and sunny summer hours. 
 
 "i- 
 

 ROBIN RED-BREAST. 
 
 Didst thou forget thy friends, 
 
 Back 'mongst the snows? 
 Where Bummer suns were passed, 
 Where Winter's stormy blast 
 Pinched tinghng cheeks and nipped our ears and toes? 
 
 Oh ! robin red-breast, thou — 
 
 Sad to relate ! — 
 Didst fly away, away, 
 To Southern climes so gay, 
 And leave us to our cruel, cruel fate ! 
 
 We 've longed to see thee back, 
 
 And waited still. 
 We 've watched and waited long, 
 We've listened for thy song 
 To wake us, in the morning, with its trill. 
 
 At last, at last thou 'rt liere, 
 
 On joyous Aving, 
 To sing thy song of love. 
 In budding tree and grove; 
 First harbinger of merry, ha[)py Spring. 
 
(Tfs' 
 
 \aia. 
 
 _^i;f|T~ liE fields and woods of Allen Dale 
 l*"^]^- Are softly fading from niy sight, 
 
 I As through the sweetly -scented vale 
 .>-- P Gleams forth the rays of evening light. 
 The little, twittering, warl>ling birds 
 
 Have gone to rest on leafy bed ; 
 
 While all around, unseen, unheard, 
 
 The flitting fairies gently tread. 
 
 In that green wood now lost in mist, 
 
 A thousand beauteous scenes are found, 
 And charnis, that none can well resist, 
 
 Are strewn by Nature all around : 
 The purling l)rook, the wil<l cascade, 
 
 The waving l)oughs, tlie dancing spray. 
 Allure your eye, delight your mind, 
 
 And almost steal your lieart away. 
 
 'i 
 
ALLEN DALE. 
 
 The fertile fields adown the slope, 
 
 Are sporting robes of golden grain ; 
 And mingling joy with ardent hope 
 
 Of future ease and worldly gain. 
 The grassy mead in dancing waves, 
 
 Is spreading round its beauties, too. 
 And just beyond its farthest verge, 
 
 The village, neat, appears in view. 
 
 When business care, or worldly toil, 
 
 Has given head or heart a })ain ; 
 When city life, with wild turmoil. 
 
 In dire confusion whirls' my l)rain, 
 I long to rove through Allen Dale, 
 
 Its murmuring streamlets softly seek, 
 And let the cooling zephyrs fan 
 
 My fevered brow and flushing cheek. 
 
r'/i '*'i ■" Qjsi '^ ©ye) 
 
 (Written at l-i years of ase.) 
 
 pTAIL. ti^tiirdy old })i>{)lav! thy rough coat of 
 IS^ gray, 
 
 Though tinic'-worn, still shows not one sign of 
 decay ; 
 Thou hast stcnmrd the rude eiu'rent t)f many a 
 
 hlast. 
 That scattered tlie hranelies around, as it })assM ; 
 Thou hast witnessed the ash and the mighty oak, 
 
 rent 
 By the glittering bolt, in its vivid descent ; 
 And still, in the i)ride of thy strength thou art seen, 
 Right haughtily, si)orting thy mantle of green. 
 
 The dark, hetivy forests that covered the land, 
 And once stood around thee, so nohle and grand, 
 'Neath which, as the red hunter chased the wild • 
 
 deer. 
 The timid hare cowering trembled with fear, 
 
 "^ 
 
^ . 4- 
 
 A POPLAIi, NEAR OUR COTTAGE DOOR. 
 
 No more wave their boughs in the thin airy spray ; 
 At the edge of the steel, they have melted away, 
 And alone tliDU art standing majestic and liigh, 
 A sacred memento of ages gone by. 
 
 Old tree, thou hast witnessed the sigh and the tear 
 Gushing u}) from the heart, when no mortal was 
 
 near ; 
 Thou hast seen a fair sister plight virtue and love. 
 To stand pure and true, as the heavens above ; 
 Thou hast seen a fond mother weep tears of regret, 
 And mourn o'er the thorns that life's pathway beset ; 
 And gay in his youth, with no cares to annoy, 
 Thou hast gazed on the sjjorts, and the smiles of the 
 
 lioy. 
 
 Long life to thee, monarch! may holy light sliuie 
 UpcMi thy old branches and make thee divine; 
 Or if 'tis denied tliee tlie l)liss of the sage. 
 May angels watch over and soften thy age: 
 Bright golden-winged fairies in silken vohcs dress'd. 
 By night hover round thee and soothe thee to rest; 
 And when to the dust thou art cruml)ling, old tree, 
 A tear I will shed in remembrance of thee. 
 
 4" 
 
[ms-la 
 
 "xniia Wown, 
 
 (A PARODY. 
 
 P^HJCIIP: is a \'ilk' in the West Countiy, 
 ;) And a meaner one never was found; 
 C^ 'Tliere is not a man in the \\\'st C'onntrv 
 But has heard of this P^izzleville town. 
 
 An oak and an ash tree stand close hy, 
 And l)e]iind does a sti'eandet tiow, 
 
 Though six months out of the year 'tis dry 
 Clear down to the "slashes" helow. 
 
 A traveler eanie to this Fizzleville town 
 
 Joyfully lie drew nigh ; 
 From day-break he liad been traveling, 
 
 And he had "got" awful "f/j-y." 
 
-f- 
 
 FIZZLK 1 77. L E TO I \ X. 
 
 He drank of the whisky, so sparkling and l^'ight, 
 
 Like only the tippler can ; 
 And he sat himself down on the rustic bench, 
 
 By the side of the grog-sho}) man. 
 
 There came a chap from the neighboring farm, 
 
 To imbibe the beverage, too; 
 He said " good day " to the grog-shop man, 
 
 To the stranger, " how do yon do ? " 
 
 "Now, are you a l)achelor, stranger?" quoth he, 
 
 " For sure if you have a wife, 
 You are drinking a draught that will blast tlie hopes 
 
 Of your dearest companion, for life. 
 
 "Or has your good woman, if one you have. 
 
 Been up the country and down ? 
 For troth, if she has, I'll wager a glass 
 
 She has heard of this Fizzleville town." 
 
 " I have a good woman, who never was here," 
 
 The stranger he made reply, 
 "But what is the odds it makes to my wife. 
 
 When I am from home and — drv." 
 
. ^ -. ^ 
 
 FIZZL1':VILLE TOWX. 
 
 "Old Scratch," quoth the countryman, "many a time 
 Drank here to the dregs of his })urse ; 
 
 And before he went down to the regions helow, 
 He laid on the liijuor a curse. 
 
 "If the husband, of this withering fount 
 
 Shall drink — woe be to his wife, 
 A wretched woman is she henceforth. 
 
 For she sliall l)e tortured through life. 
 
 " But, if tlie wife should drink of it, too, 
 
 (rod help the children, then! — " 
 The stranger turned with a fiendish grin, 
 
 And drank from the bottle again. 
 
 "You drink of the spirits, yourself, betimes, 
 
 To your wife's great woe?" he said; 
 But the countryman whistled a scrap of a tune, 
 
 iVnd shee})ishly hung his head. 
 
 "I hastened to have the wedding l)egun. 
 
 And met my love in the porch ; 
 But i' faith! she was too wise for me. 
 
 She wouldn't uo with me to church." 
 
 +- 
 
 "^ 
 
4" 
 
 •+ 
 
 feP J' '^'^ 
 
 'VE wandered o'er tlie wildwood, 
 ^?1. I've wandered o\'v the mead, 
 t The seenes of merry childhood, 
 
 Jii happy thought and d(>e(l. 
 They stir my heart witli sweetness. 
 
 Tliey wake a tender sigh, 
 Foi- life we passed in Heetness, 
 My brother I'^rank and I. 
 
 The lilies pure and spotless, 
 
 We plucked with song and glee, 
 For hoys we were, and thoughtless. 
 
 As any boys could be. 
 The violets blue and blusliing. 
 
 We did not pass them by, 
 But we wove them in our garlands. 
 
 My brother Frank and I. 
 
 70 
 
-4- 
 
 BROTHER FRANK AND I. 
 
 We were wild and free as ever 
 
 Was bird, on cleaving wing; 
 No grief our hearts could sever, 
 
 No joy, them nearer bring ; 
 We were one, asleep or waking, 
 
 In kindred's holy tie — 
 A league of beai'ts unshaken ; 
 
 My brother Frank and I. 
 
 But years, long years in sadness. 
 
 Have gone their ceaseless round ; 
 And our hearts, that beat in gladness, 
 
 Are not so closely found ; 
 For Fate's hand, unrelenting, 
 
 With changeless, stern decree,' 
 Hath pai'ted for a season. 
 
 My brother Frank and me. 
 
 Yet Hope, fond Hope, enchanting, 
 
 Still whispers in my ear 
 Of future happy moments, 
 
 Of a meeting sweet and near; 
 Of a joyous, kindly meeting, 
 
 To happen by and by, 
 When we'll share a heartfelt greeting, 
 
 Mv brother Frank and I. 
 
 ^^ 
 
^ 
 
 'iu 
 
 n 
 
 p^^^HE sun has set in a cloudless slcy ; 
 
 ^\ The stars peep out serene ; 
 .G '^''The moon in the distant east descry, 
 In her rol)e of silver slieen. 
 The night-hawk skims o'er the verda;it Itreast 
 
 Of the fruitful earth, his i)rey, 
 The droning gad-flies find no rest 
 From dusk till the close of day. 
 
 The violets' graves in the meado-ws brown. 
 
 Are exposed to the night's chill dew, 
 But the fairy angels watch around 
 
 Their tomb, and the lillies' too. 
 And the withered leaves from t^ie forest trees. 
 
 Lie entombed in a mournful heap. 
 Where the gentle tide of the evening breeze, 
 
 Has swept then around the steep. 
 
AUTUMX EVE. 
 
 Old Nature luoiiriis, and his wayward grief 
 
 Is breathed forth in the tender sigh 
 Of the gentle zephyr, twirling eaeh leaf, 
 
 As it fiiUs from its stem to die ; 
 To his aged eyes 'tis a painful sight, 
 
 The death of this beautiful race, 
 And a veil of smoky, misty light 
 
 He draws around his face. 
 
 The timid hare from her grassy lair, 
 
 In gladness ski})S her rounds; 
 Little dreaming, alas! that she's leaving there 
 
 Her track for the yelping hounds. 
 The plump, brown quail without fright or fear, 
 
 Goes to bed with the sinking sun. 
 But the dawn of day will bring to his ear 
 
 The boom of the sportsman's gun. 
 
 Exciting dreams of the thrilling chase. 
 
 On the morrow, are filling his head. 
 As the hunter sinks into sleep's end)race 
 
 (^n his hard, but welcome bed. 
 Thoughts tlee from thoughts with the lightning's 
 l)ace — 
 
 He roams through bright worlds above — 
 And now, I ween, from the smile on his face, 
 
 He dreams of his fond " first love." 
 
 -^ 
 
^. 
 
 AUTUMN EVE. 
 
 Days dawn and close — moons wax and wane 
 
 Suns set, and rise, and shine; 
 Death conies and goes, and comes again — 
 
 Fond hopes and hearts entwine. 
 Each hour to many a heart brings joy. 
 
 E'en to some who mourn and grieve, 
 But the happiest hours to a farmer's boy, 
 
 Are those of an Autumn eve. 
 
 +- 
 

 ((dlJipWO hearts that l)eat'— who ever heard 
 • ; Of anv nonsense so absurd!" 
 
 & 
 
 •• Thus muttered grufi" old Farmer Brown, 
 
 " As, driving home from market town, 
 
 He pondered long upon a note — 
 
 His daughter's — which some lover wrote, 
 
 And thought all safe, beyond a doubt. 
 
 When sealed within, and stamped without. 
 
 But whicli old Ananias Brown, 
 
 As he was jogging home from town, 
 
 Thought best to open and peruse — 
 
 Not that he had a nose for news, 
 
 But sitiiply — well, because he "oughter" 
 
 Know who was writing to his daughter; 
 
 And in sucli case, he said, 't was better 
 
 To break the seal and read her letter. 
 
+- 
 
 ANANIAS BROWN 
 
 He vowed he never saw such stuff, 
 
 As there was written — " 'twas enough," 
 
 He said, "to make a parent swear. 
 
 And bring, on end, each se])arate hair." 
 
 " Now h(n-e," said he, " it reads like this : 
 
 ' I send my little 'sweet' a kiss ' — 
 
 And makes a scrawl — I do declare ! — 
 
 As if the very kiss was thei'e. 
 
 And further on he writes, in i)rose, 
 
 And vows she has a Grecian nose, 
 
 That charms him (luite — confound his 'mug!' 
 
 He knows, //."/• nose is short and 'pug.' 
 
 And at the close, what's this I see? — 
 
 (He's gone quite daft, that's plain to me,) 
 
 ' Two souls with l)ut a single thought,' 
 
 (He should be ' l)Ooted,' so he ought,) 
 
 'Two hearts that beat as one' — they do? 
 
 Then I will make them beat as two, 
 
 And teach hint how to write such stuff 
 
 To Hannah Brown ! — why, 'tis enough 
 
 To make a deacon wroth, to see 
 
 What fools, young folks can now 'days be. 
 
 Best Avrite no letters — use the tongue, 
 
 As vouns; folks did wIkmi / was voung. 
 
+- 
 
 AXAXIAS BROWX. 
 
 And liere, he signs himself, 'A. B.,' 
 
 A fri(i\ as any one can see, 
 
 Thus to conceal his real name ; 
 
 I think it is a l)urning shame, 
 
 But I'll find out — well, let me see, 
 
 Who is this villainous 'A. B. ?' 
 
 There's Bradford's son, he'd like to come, 
 
 'Tis not him, though— /?^s name is Tom. 
 
 And there is Berry, at the forge. 
 
 But hr won't do, his name is George. 
 
 And that young fellow at the mill, 
 
 A spry one too — but his name's Bill; 
 
 And old Black's son — it can't be him, 
 
 For every])ody knows lie's 'Jim.' 
 
 That dapper clerk in Bryant's store — 
 Why didn't T tliink of hirii before? — 
 I've seen him casting glances, shy. 
 At Hannah, when no one was nigh. 
 His name, well, well — now let me see, 
 His surname, sure, begins witli 'B.' 
 Ah! here's a bill, he's signed his name; 
 It is. it is the very same ! 
 Oh! Arthur Bowman, you're quite sly, 
 But I will catch you 'bye and bye;' 
 
 -i- ^ 
 
AXANIAS BROWX. 
 
 You 11 rue the day, you dandy clown, 
 You wrote such stuff' to Hannah Ih-owu ! " 
 
 Old D()l)l)in l)rought up at the door. 
 And Brown was mad — he almost swore, 
 When Hannah, lovely as a bride, 
 Came out and stood by Dolphin's side 
 And patted him — then hung her head, 
 And in quite modest tones, she said, 
 " Pa, did you bring me any mail ? " 
 ''l/aiY/" stormed old Ih-own — her cheek turn- 
 ed pale — 
 "I guess I did! — who is the liound 
 That writes sucli stuff' to Hannah ]>rown?" 
 "Why, Pa, what stuff'? — I can not tell 
 Who writes me letters, till I — well, 
 I mean — that is — I could tell better. 
 If you would let me have my letter." 
 "Well, here it is!" — lie flung it down, 
 " A shame to Ananias ih'own ! 
 To have a daughter, who's so dull, 
 To correspond witli such a fool ! " 
 
 Good Mistress Brown came hustling out, 
 To see what all this was about, 
 
 78 
 
 +- 
 
.l.VJ.Y/J,S' BROWN. 
 
 (With apron thrcnvn across her head,) 
 
 "Why, Ananias dear," she said, 
 
 "What i.^ the matter ! — are n't you well? 
 
 Or has batl hick ns all l)efell ? " 
 
 "Oh! worse than that," roared he with mioht, 
 
 "Here is a villain, scoundrel, (juite, 
 
 Who writes to Hannah— just you see — 
 
 And signs his villainy ' A. B.' " 
 
 Then Hannah, struck with fear and awe. 
 Hands out the letter to her Ma. 
 With "specs" on nose, she glanced it o'er, 
 (She thought she'd seen it once before,) 
 Then blurts right out — " why, laws-a-day ! 
 Where did you get this, Hannah, say! 
 Have you been in my rose-wood l)ox. 
 That I keep closed with two good locks? 
 This letter's mine!'' — the earth sank down 
 Beneath the feet of Farmer Brown. 
 His eyes were "sot," he heaved a groan. 
 Then seemed to turn to solid stone. 
 
 Poor Hannali hastened to ex})lain — 
 "Twas not my fault. Ma, that is plain, 
 I fftund the letter, with a song 
 A Iving on vour desk — 'twas wrou"-, 
 
+- 
 
 ANANIAS BROWN. 
 
 I own, to read it — yes, 1 know, 
 
 But who would think 't would turn out so ;- 
 
 I sent it down to Susan Black 
 
 To read it, too, then send it back — 
 
 It was so sweet — for c/irls — you know. 
 
 And Susan has a splendid beau." 
 
 The farmer, once more, came to life, 
 
 He hugged his daughter, kissed his wife, 
 
 Then looking solemn as an owl, 
 
 " What 's fair is fair, what 's foul is foul ; 
 
 And mother," said he, "after all 
 
 Tliat wa'n't so l)ad — that kiss, in scrawl. 
 
 Well, I declare! how time has 'flew,' 
 
 We once were young and foolish too, 
 
 And had young hearts, and wa'n't to blame - 
 
 Though I had ' oughter ' signed my name, 
 
 And not 'A. B.' — just put it down 
 
 Below there — Ananias Brown." 
 
 He's happy now, in Love's bright fetters. 
 But never opens Hannah's letters. 
 
 "h 
 
-+ 
 
 '^Fi^ndfliijpp ^org and '"^'fuIIi], 
 
 ?9* 
 
 'I'liis, ;ui(i tlio I'olliiwiii.LT, iiuukcd with an Mslcrisk ( * ) wero written Uir 
 anil sL't to inusir. 
 
 HEN the toil of (lay is over, 
 And the fading, misty light 
 ~ ' Gently hints of coming evening; 
 
 Whispers of a|)proaching night ; 
 Pass away all cares and sorrows, 
 Like a fading di'cam of youth, 
 And we'll meet in peace and union. 
 Under "friendship, love and truth." 
 
 The world may scoflf, the idler jeer, 
 l)ut frieudshii)'s chain unites us hen 
 Its golden links hind heart to heart, 
 No more to roam, no more to part. 
 
 Other pleasures may entice us, 
 Other joys may claim a share, 
 
 -h 
 
"FRIENDSHIP. LOVE AND TRUTH." 
 
 Other friends we have to cheer us. 
 
 Other duties, labor, care; 
 But the truest aud the brightest, 
 
 And most lasting, far, forsooth, 
 Are the golden bands that bind us. 
 
 Under " friendship, love and truth." 
 
 The world may scoft^ the idler jeer. 
 But friendship's chain unites us here; 
 Its golden links bind heart to heart, 
 No more to roam, no more to part. 
 
 Some may long and pine for honor, 
 
 Worldly wealth, or tinsel show; 
 Some despise our faithful Order, 
 
 Call it vulgar, coarse and low; 
 As for us and for our household. 
 
 We desire no change, forsooth, 
 But we'll meet in i)eace and union, 
 
 Under "friendship, love and truth." 
 
 The world may scoff', the idler jeer, 
 But friendship's chain unites us here; 
 Its golden links bind heart to heart. 
 No more to roam, no more to jtart. 
 
 4" 
 
-^ 
 
 
 "11 
 
 ^^HEN the l)l<»ss()nis of Sprino-, 
 And the l)ir(ls as they sing, 
 Tell us Winter is over and gone. 
 Then we go forth with cheer, 
 For the tasks of the year 
 
 Are begun, and the seed must be sown. 
 
 Then we'll plow and we'll sow, 
 And we'll reap and we'll mow, 
 
 And we'll garner the golden store; 
 Though tlie lal)or he hard, 
 
 We will reap the reward 
 
 In the end, when tlie harvest is o'er. 
 
 Then, as Summer sun's rays 
 Lengthen out with the days. 
 
 And each tiny shoot springs up so fair, 
 How it sweetens our toil 
 
FMLMixc soya. 
 
 \\ lien we know tliat the soil 
 Will reward our lalior and care. 
 
 Then we'll })low and wedl sow, 
 
 And we'll reap and we'll mow, t^'c. 
 
 And when Autumn is crown'd 
 With the fruits of the ground, 
 
 Peace and plenty abroad in the land; 
 Then we'll look up in love 
 
 To the Master above, 
 
 And with thanks praise His bountiful haiK 
 
 Then we'll plow and we'll sow, 
 
 And we'll I'cap and we'll mow, A-c. 
 
 -+ 
 
-+ 
 
 ®ll|:5: '^laFX^ 
 
 ^Bt^F 
 
 °HEN tlie eartli ))rin,ii,'s forth her Ixninties, 
 
 By Creation's hand unseen, 
 And around us gently swaying, 
 
 Waves of golden grain are seen; 
 Tlien tlie harvester comes siuRino;, 
 
 Singing to his <lnily toil, 
 Hard the lahoi- — yet "tis pleasure, 
 Reaping tribute from the soil. 
 
 Reajnng earthly grain, reaping as we go, 
 For the garners liere below, 
 
 (Jreat the harvest, few the nwpers, 
 Will you lend a lielping liand? 
 
 More assistance here is needed, 
 Come and join the reaping band. 
 
 If your work meets our ajjproval, 
 Though you labor long and hard. 
 
 --h 
 
THE IIAUVESTFJI. 
 
 You shall surely not repent it, 
 You shall reap a rich reward. 
 
 Reaping earthly grain, reaping as we go, 
 For the garnei's here below. 
 
 Thus in life's broad field the Reaper 
 
 Comes with sickle, keen and bright, 
 Reaps the bearded grain and flowers, 
 
 Clarnering them in realms of light. 
 May the Master of the harvest, 
 
 Reaping for His tiirone on high, 
 Find us worthy to he garnered 
 
 In that honu' beyond the sky. 
 
 Rea[)ing heav'nly grain, reaping liy and l)y 
 For the garners in the sky. 
 
TAR of Faith, my trust and comfort, 
 
 When the way seems dark to me. 
 Still sup})ort me 'midst life's trials. 
 Dark though they be : 
 Still support me 'midst life's trials, 
 Dark though they be. 
 
 Star of Ilojje, that guides us onward, 
 Bless tlie heart that leans on thee, 
 
 Bless the seed time and the Iiarvest, 
 Blest may they be; 
 
 Bless the seed time and tlie harvest, 
 Blest mav thev be. 
 
 Charit}', thou star divinest, 
 
 Give us grateful hearts and free, 
 
 87 
 
■+ 
 
 FOUB VIRTU KS. 
 
 Helping hands to aid the weary, 
 
 Where e'er the}^ be ; 
 Helping hands to aid the weary, 
 
 Where e'er they he. 
 
 Shining bright, gleams forth thy hcautie.'- 
 
 thou star. Fidelity! 
 Make us faithful in life's duties. 
 
 Faithful, Tjord, to thee; 
 Make us faithful in life's duties. 
 
 Faithful, Lord, to thee. 
 
[m 
 
 Jon 
 
 I llh^ 
 
 ^arTTi| 
 
 FF u}>c)ii the hillsides, out upon the farm, 
 N^. Brushing 'Avay the dewdrops, drinking in the 
 
 el) arm 
 Of Nature in her freshness, of country air so free — 
 How pulses thrill and tingle, how joyful there are we. 
 
 Out u})on the farm, the ipiiet, hapj)}- farm, 
 
 Where roses l)ud and tiowers bloom, 
 
 And seas of verdure charm; 
 
 Out u})on the farm, the joyous, peaceful farm. 
 
 Oh, give me ])leasures tar from strife, 
 
 'Way out ui)on the farm. 
 
 ^■ 
 
 Roaming lierds of cattle, grazing here and there. 
 Singing hirds and Ijuttertiies in the l)almy air; 
 Fields of grain are waving, crystal streandets How 
 Thro' sunshine bright and shadow, with murmurs 
 sweet and low. 
 
 S9 
 
OUT UPON THE FARM. 
 
 Out upon the farm, the quiet, happy farm, . 
 Where roses bud and flowers bloom, 
 And seas of verdure charm, &c. 
 
 Plucking fruits so luscious, gathering stores again, 
 Sowing in the valley, reaping golden grain ; 
 These and countless pleasures, be our only care, 
 Happy, peaceful farmer's life, so free from vice and 
 snare. 
 
 Out upon the form, the quiet, happy farm. 
 
 Where roses bud and flowers bloom. 
 
 And seas of verdure charm; 
 
 Out upon the farm, the joyous, peaceful farm, 
 
 Oh, give me pleasures far from strife, 
 
 'Way out upon the farm. 
 
 mm- 
 
■^ 
 
 ^avxia^t :^oiriLg. 
 
 HE golden sun is sinking-, 
 Behind the western hills, 
 'His fiiding light falls softly 
 
 On meads and gurgling rills. 
 To-day the sickle, flashing. 
 
 Has felled the ripened grain. 
 And earth yields up her treasures 
 To toiling man again. 
 
 Then shout ha ! ha ! with song and glee, 
 We're merry now, as we can be; 
 The day is passed, our task is done, 
 And home we trip at set of sun. 
 
 Like slain on field of battle. 
 The sheaves lay scattered here, 
 
 The golden sheaves of harvest. 
 Far o'er the field and near. 
 
 ill 
 
 -Hh 
 
HARVEST SONG. 
 
 But youtlis and gentle maidens 
 Have gathered them in form, 
 
 And brawny ai-nis have hooded them 
 In shoekn, secure from storm. 
 Then shout ha ! ha ! c\:e. 
 
 The master of the harvest, 
 
 Well pleased will surely be. 
 The happy, joyous harvesters 
 
 And gleaners here to see. 
 Thus ever, when we join in toil. 
 
 May cheerfulness impart 
 True pleasures to our daily tasks, 
 
 Bright sunshine in each heart. 
 
 Then shout ha! ha! A:c. 
 
 -+ 
 
Rowing and '^aamhm 
 
 ^'j^HO'LL bo sowinu', who'll Ix' sowiiiii', 
 ,J Sowinji' pvecious, <i;o]den uvain, 
 In the vallev, on the hillside, 
 Wide across the fertile plain? 
 
 Who'll l»e sowiu.i;-, sowin.u luvcioiis .u'olden 
 
 ti'rain, 
 Sowing, reaping, sowing precious golden 
 
 urain ? 
 
 0, 
 
 Who'll he sowing seeds of kindness, 
 
 Right and left along the way, 
 'Round the home-hearth, hy the sick couch, 
 
 Here and there, wdiere'er we stray ? 
 
 Who'll l)e sowing, sowing kindness where 
 we stray. 
 
 Sowing, reaping, sowing kindness where 
 we strav? 
 
 -h- 
 
>f. 
 
 SO}VrX(r AXD KEAFINCl. 
 
 \\\m)'\\ 1)0 h^owing deeds of mercy, 
 Sowing through life's checkered vale 
 
 Love and honor, virtue, goodness, 
 Might^y truth tliat must i^revail? 
 
 Who'll he sowing, sowing truth that must 
 
 prevail. 
 Sowing, reaping, sowing truth that must 
 
 ])revail ? 
 
 May we all go sowing, reaping 
 
 Only best of life's fair ^neld, 
 So that at the tinal harvest 
 
 We may ri'ap in Heaven's bright tield. 
 
 Who'll 1)0 sowing, sowing host of life's 
 
 fair yield, 
 Sowing, reaping, reaj) at last in Heaven's 
 
 hritiht tiold? 
 
-4- 
 
 
 
 Y dear old home, 'midst waving fields, 
 
 By hill-side fair, near shady dell, 
 
 Thy peaceful quiet pleasure yields. 
 
 That grateful heart alone can tell. 
 
 My dear old home, my dear old home. 
 Its verdant mead, its sparkling rill, 
 
 Whatever I do, where'er I rrmm, 
 T love thee still, I love thee still. 
 
 My dear old home, where clover hlooin 
 Wafts sweetness on the morning air, 
 
 And orchards, too, with rich perfume. 
 Load zephyrs soft with fragrance rare. 
 
 My dear old home, &c. 
 
 My dear old h(jrae, how sweet the charm 
 Of Nature in her loveliest moods ; 
 
31 Y DEAR OLD HOME. 
 
 The valley wide, the rocky glen, 
 The forest with its solitudes. 
 
 My dear old home, ikv. 
 
 TiCt others sigh for l)ustling din, 
 
 For noisy streets and husines;^ care, 
 
 While I will seek ti'ue jileasure in 
 
 My dear old home, 'mid scenes so fair. 
 
 My dear old liomc, my dear old lionic. 
 
 Its verdant mead, its sparkling rill, 
 Whate'er 1 do, where'er I roam^ 
 
 I love thee still, I love thee still. 
 
 VI 70 86 i . 
 
 +- 
 
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