Poetry

would it adorn,
Said he all other names above
Your charming name alone I love.

Said she of beauty ’tis soon shorn,
Unless that it is joined to Thorn,
It very soon doth droop and die,
And she heaved a gentle sigh.

Said he we’ll wed to-morrow morn,
No more from me you shall be torn,
For you will banish all my woes,
And near my heart I’ll wear the rose.

Now little rose buds they are born,
All clinging to the parent Thorn,
In grace and beauty each one grows,
Full worthy of the sweet May Rose.

Some flowers they only shed their bloom
In the sweet month of leafy June,
But May doth bloom each month in year
A fragrant Rose forever dear.

Danger of Fire Arms

For to save life one great solver
Would be to prohibit the revolver,
Weapon of coward and of bully,
Who slaughter friends in their folly.

Let now no man or any boy,
With loaded arms ever toy,
Showing off their manly vigor,
Pointing to friend and pulling trigger.

And sending bullet through their brain,
And then exclaim in mournful strain,
When friends with grief they are goaded,
I did not know that it was loaded.

Fire arms oft’ times do bring woes,
And they kill more friends than foes,
Hunting now o’er fertile fields,
’Tis seldom that it profit yields.

Bird Sent by Providence

A poor man stood beside his door,
His sad fate for to deplore,
For landlord’s heart would not relent,
And seized his furniture for rent.

He hears song sweet as from fairy,
And soon he sees a canary,
Into his cage it did alight
And poured forth notes sweet and bright.

But owner of the bird did mourn,
And sadly longed for its return,
Without it she found no delight,
So she did landlord’s bill requite.

The poor man thinks the bird was sent
By the Lord to pay up his rent,
And he now stout maintains from thence
That there is a kind Providence.

Help in Need

A poor man’s horse it ran away,
Soon man upon the roadside lay,
With his leg all badly broken,
Of sympathy some gave token.

One said your trouble grieves my heart,
But with his money would not part,
Another said, while heaving sighs,
It brings the tears into mine eyes.

But a good true hearted man,
His heart with kindness it o’er ran,
The poorest man among the three,
A pound he did contribute free.

Others gave in empty feeling,
But this poor man he did bring healing,
The giver only Lord doth prize,
Who helps afflicted for to rise.

Lines on the Finding of a Young Man’s Body in Toronto Bay

His identity was discovered by finding the maker’s name on the suit he wore and by sending a strip of the cloth to the maker in Montreal.

A young man’s body long it lay
In bottom of Toronto Bay,
But at last the waters bore,
And raised him up near to the shore.

But no one knew his rank or station,
No one knew his home or nation,
But his form and dress were genteel,
And sorrow many they did feel.

Kind man took charge of the remains,
And was well rewarded for his pains,
So skilful he did him embalm,
Restored the features sweet and calm.

The father came and he did bless
The man who did restore the face,
And saved for him his son’s remains,
And thus he fame and honor gains.

Lines on a Lawn Party

Where it was announced ten days previous that the cereus would bloom, August, 1888.

We own we felt a little curious,
To see the rare night blooming cereus,
And as if ’twas divine anointed,
It came in bloom at the time appointed,
And gorgeous too their oleander,
None ’ere saw shrub blossom grander.

All Men Are Brothers

We are in ancient stories told,
All were brothers in days of old,
But these with facts they do not chime
For all mankind do love the dime,
And worship the mighty dollar,
And admire the golden collar,
The rich man’s washed with whitest lime,
The poor man’s cover’d o’er with slime,
But we should try to love each other
And treat each man as our brother.

The Good Man

Cheerful and happy was his mood,
He to the poor was kind and good,
And he oft’ times did find them food,
Also supplies of coal and wood,
He never spake a word was rude,
And cheer’d those did o’er sorrows brood,
He passed away not understood,
Because no poet in his lays
Had penned a sonnet in his praise,
’Tis sad, but such is world’s ways.

Lay of the Spring

Let others sing their favourite lay,
From early morn till close of day,
More useful themes engage our pen,
We sing the lay of our good hen.

For she doth lay each morn an egg,
And it is full and large and big,
Abroad she doth never travel,
Happy she when scratching gravel.

And she loud cackles songs of praise
Every morn when e’er she lays,
Proud she is when she finds pickings
For to feed her brood of chickens.

It greatly puzzled her one day
When she found white nest egg of clay,
She knew some one did trick play her,
For she was no brick layer.

Vain and stately male bird stalks,
Leading his hens along the walks,
Proudly each feather in his tail
Makes rival roosters for to quail.

Our muse now soars on feathery wing,
And cheerful it doth hail the spring,
Bringing the sunshine and showers,
Green grass and buds and leafy bowers.

So pleasant is the month of May,
When bushes shoot out blooming spray,
’Ere spring we’re tired of winter’s white,
Spring’s varied colours do delight.

High in Masonry

Give me a board so I can trace on
How high I have gone as a mason,
Said worker on true square cut stone
Unto some knights of good St. John.

Each one of them could trace with ease
The highest Masonic degrees,
Tell us how high then you have gone
They said to worker on cut stone.

Who said to their astonishment
To top of Washington monument,
I solemnly to you declare
And will swear to fact upon the square.

I there stood thirty-three degrees,
While the mercury did freeze,
And none of you will have desire
In masonry for to go higher.

Tramp and Fish

A hungry tramp did long for dish,
And he stole a big bunch of fish,
But he full soon did come to grief,
He was quick captured as a thief.

And brought before