Canada And Other Poems Part 11

The old man spoke, as through her broke The cruel rocks around her.

"Advice was vain; you took the chain, And helplessly you bound her.

"For all your store of varied lore, Tho' guidance and defence, Was quite in vain to stand the strain, Like rocks of common sense."

THE TRUANT BOY.

AFTER MOORE'S "MINSTREL BOY."

Oh, the truant boy to the woods has gone, And you ne'er, alas, can find him, He's strapp'd his empty school bag on, For his books are left behind him.

He's gone to shake the beechnuts down From a height--'twould make you s.h.i.+ver, And stain his hands a gipsy brown, With the walnuts by the river.

"Away from school!" said this youth so free, "Tho' all the world should praise thee, I'd rather climb this walnut tree, Because it's such a daisy."

The truant fell, but the stunning shock Could not bring his proud soul under; "I'll try again, and here I go To get those nuts, by thunder!"

So he tightly strapp'd his bag so neat, This soul of s.p.u.n.k and bravery, And said, "If I in this get beat, I will go back to slavery."

But he climb'd the tree, and got the nuts, And wander'd home in the gloaming, Well knowing, as the door he shuts, That his pa, with rage, is foaming.

But he gets some bread, and steals to bed With his heart fill'd up with sorrow, And shudders, as he looks ahead, And thinks of school to-morrow; He knows the score of lies he'll tell Will scarce prevent a licking, And he sadly wonders if 'tis well To go thus walnut picking.

THE FISHERMAN'S WIFE.

The fisherman's wife stood on the beach.

One chilly April day, And far out on the lake she look'd, And o'er the waves, away.

The ice which late had spann'd for miles This rolling, inland sea, Had now releas'd its wintry grasp The long pent waves were free.

And now resistlessly they roll'd, And frightful was the sound, As cakes of ice, dash'd to and fro, Against each other ground.

A north-west wind had lately lash'd The waves to fury wild, But now they fast were sinking down, Like tam'd and frighten'd child.

The woman caught their soughing sound, As tho' she heard a groan, And heard them roll upon the beach, With sad and solemn moan

For late, with wild, hilarious glee, Their reckless course had run, And now, it seem'd as if they thought Of all the ill they'd done.

The fisherman's wife stood on the beach, And still her eyes did strain, To catch of mast or sail, a glimpse, Upon the inland main.

The woman turn'd her from the beach, Loose flow'd her streaming hair, And, louder than the white-rob'd gull, She shriek'd in wild despair.

Three days ago her husband had, For wife and children's sake, Dar'd changeful gales and floating ice, Upon the treach'rous lake.

With two stout hearts he left the sh.o.r.e, To reach the fis.h.i.+ng "grounds,"

Undaunted by the freezing winds, Or ice-floes crus.h.i.+ng sounds.

They reach'd the grounds, but scarce had turn'd Upon the homeward track, When came the wild nor'wester down On their frail fis.h.i.+ng smack.

Yes, wring your hands, thou fisher's wife, For thou hast cause to wail For him who left the fis.h.i.+ng "grounds"

In that wild north-west gale.

'Mid frozen snow, and blocks of ice, And fiercely rolling waves, He and his little crew went down, Uncoffin'd, to their graves.

YE PATRIOT SONS OF CANADA.

Ye patriot sons of Canada, Whate'er your race or creed, Arise, your country claims you now, In this, her hour of need.

Arise, with right and valor girt, To battle with the foe, Which threatens to defy our laws, And lay our country low.

Arise, for black rebellion's flag, Again may 'mongst us wave, And traitors in our country's camp, May dig our country's grave.

The law was righteously enforc'd, Riel did fairly die, And why should we give way to those, Who raise the rebel's cry?

In spite of priest's or statesman's voice, Quebec, forsooth, must rage, And, with her wrongful acts and words, Insult experience and age.

And demagogues, with purpose vile, Must lead the trait'rous cause, And hound unthinking ma.s.ses on, To wreck our country's laws.

Then rise, each patriotic son, And guard your country's flag, Both for your own and country's sake, Oh, never let it drag.

By vote, and action, if there's need, a.s.sert your country's claim, To brandish high stern Justice' sword, O'er any race or name.

Arise then, sons of Canada, In purpose strong and bright, Fear not the foe, nor doubt results, For G.o.d defends the right.

A PROTESTANT IRISHMAN TO HIS WIFE.

"Just forty years to-day, my dear, We sail'd from Irish waters, And bade farewell, with many a tear, To Erin's sons and daughters.

"You'll recollect how ach'd our hearts, That day in Tipperary, When we set forth for foreign parts, For distant woods or prairie.

"You know our very hearts were rent With grief, almost asunder, And if we thought all joy was spent, No exil'd heart will wonder.

"But soon we reach'd our strange, new home, Where mighty forests flourish'd, With others, forc'd like us to roam, Who in our isle were nourish'd.

"But now I'm fairly happy here, And so are you, my Mary, But still I've seen you drop a tear Betimes, for Tipperary.

"We've many friends from home, here, now, And some we call our brothers, While some we meet with clouded brow,-- Their creed, our feeling smothers.

"There's some from Dublin, Cork, indeed There's some from distant Galway, But ev'ry man, whate'er his creed, Should own his country, alway.

"Tho' one attends the church, and one Devoutly seeks the chapel, Agreeably they yet might run, Nor have one discord apple.

"True Irishmen have often met, One common cause to feel, And many a furious onset met, With 'valor's clas.h.i.+ng steel.'