* 58 *

THE SWEET SONG OF SONGS.

THE leaf-tongues of the forest, the flower-lips of the sod,

The happy birds that hymn their rapture in the ear of God,

The summer wind that bringeth music over land and sea,

Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song of songs to me:

"This world is full of beauty, like other worlds

above,

And if we did our duty it might be full of love."

* 59 *

G. MASSEY.

SONG OF LIFE.

A TRAVELLER through a dusty road
Strewed acorns on the lea,

And one took root and sprouted up
And grew into a tree.

Love sought its shade at even-time
To breathe its early vows,

And Age was pleased, in heats of noon,
To bask beneath its boughs:

The dormouse loved its dangling twigs,

The birds sweet music bore:

It stood a glory in its place,

A blessing evermore !

A little spring had lost its way
Amid the grass and fern;
A passing stranger scooped a well
Where weary men might turn.

He walled it in, and hung with care
A ladle at the brink;

He thought not of the deed he did,
But judged that, Toil might drink.

He passed again, and lo! the well,
By summers never dried,

Had cooled ten thousand parchéd tongues,
And saved a life beside.

A dreamer dropped a random thought;
'Twas old, and yet was new

A simple fancy of the brain,
But strong in being true;

It shone upon a genial mind,
And lo! its light became
A lamp of life, a beacon ray,
A monitory flame.

The thought was small- its issue great:
A watch-fire on the hill,

It sheds its radiance far adown,
And cheers the valley still!

A nameless man, amid a crowd
That thronged the daily mart
Let fall a word of Hope and Love
Unstudied from the heart-

A whisper on the tumult thrown,
A transitory breath, -

It raised a brother from the dust,
It saved a soul from death.

O germ! O fount! O word of love!
O thought at random 1 cast!
Ye were but little at the first,
But mighty at the last.

* 60 *

C. MACKAY.

GOOD LIFE, LONG LIFE.

HE liveth long who liveth well;
All else is life but flung away:

He liveth longest who can tell

Of true things truly done each day.

Then fill each hour with what will last;
Buy up the moments as they go:
The life above, when this is past,
Is the ripe fruit of life below.

1 at random, without any aim or purpose.

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure,

Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright,

Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor,
And find a harvest-home of light.

H. BONAR.

* 61 *

THE NOBLE NATURE.

It is not growing like a tree

In bulk doth make men better be;

Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear : 1
A lily of a day

Is fairer far in May,

Although it fall and die that night,

It was the plant and flower of Light:
In small proportions we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.

BEN JONSON.

* 62 *

OUR STATE.

THE South land boasts its teeming cane;
The prairied West, its heavy grain;
And sunset's radiant gates unfold
On rising marts and sands of gold.

1 sear, withered.

Rough, bleak, and hard, our little State
Is scant of soil, of limits strait; 1
Her yellow sands are sands alone,
Her only mines are ice and stone.

From autumn frost to April rain,
Too long her winter woods complain;
From budding flower to falling leaf,
Her summer time is all too brief.

Yet on her rocks and on her sands

And wintry hills the schoolhouse stands
And what her rugged soil denies
The harvest of the mind supplies.

The riches of the Commonwealth 2

s;

Are free strong minds and hearts of health;
And, more to her than gold or grain,
The cunning hand and cultured brain.

For well she keeps her ancient stock,
The stubborn strength of Pilgrim Rock;
And still maintains with milder laws
And clearer light, the Good Old Cause!

Nor heeds the sceptic's puny hands,

While near her school the church-spire stands ; Nor fears the blinded bigot's rule,

While near her church-spire stands the school.

J. G. WHITTIER.

1 strait, limited.

2 Commonwealth, the State.