The will to take, the will to leave, Doth ever free remain, They do themselves alone deceive March, 1859. THE SWALLOW. Sing welcome to the swallow The summer it doth follow, In the windows of our churches, For the summer then 'tis yearning, On the wing it is returning O a reveller is the swallow, Flying hither, flying thither, In the sunny days of spring; Through the pleasant summer weather, Till away again it goeth, When the autumn leaves decay, March, 1859. THE GENTLEMAN. Who is the gentleman? Of Norman blood Is it, his thousand acres who doth own, Is it a chieftain of an ancient clan, Within his veins the purest Celtic blood, Proud as a king, is this the gentleman, Whose sire with Bruce at Bannockburn had stood? Is he the gentleman who money saves, And pours his gains into the Three per Cents, And still for more with boundless passion craves, Investing it in Consols or in rents? Is he the gentleman whose cloth is broad, Dub him the gentleman of open hand, And open heart to help his fellow man, Love to his fellow and his God combined, To jealousy and envy ever blind, Evil oppresses not, nor good elates. He is the gentleman and only he, With such and only such I'd be allied; Like some huge rock he seems beside the sea, March, 1859. FAITH. Faith hath the good for which it prays, "Tis his by covenant-every good O faith it is the magic key To which each doubt gives way ; It is the Christian's sesame, Which all the wards obey. Faith is a sword of polished steel Faith holds a balance in its hands, There earthly treasures light as sands Faith is an anchor of the soul, When round the raging waters roll, Faith holds a crucible to test Truth's sterling worth and weight, With fruitless trials ne'er oppressed, Success must come though late. Faith looks on death as but a door March, 1859. TO ROME. "Eternal," on thy gates thou writest; The world's history, city, thine is, More than half this planet's age, From its dawn, where dim the line is Upon Roman Livy's page. |