Canada and Other Poems | Page 4

another,
And
thou hadst a wonderful love unto me.
The mighty have fallen, their weapons have perish'd!
And, slain in
high places, so low lies the brave;
No more I shall gaze on the face
that I cherish'd.

THE DIAMOND AND THE PEBBLE.
Why value ye the diamond, and
The pearl from Ceylon's balmy shore,

When stones unnumber'd strew the land,
And in the sea are
millions more?
Why treasure ye each silver bar,
And watch, with
Argus eye, your gold,
When lead and iron, near and far,
Are strewn
beneath the rocks and mould.
Ye prize those shining gems, because
Their sparkling beauty cheers
the eye,
And, by the force of nature's laws,
They never in profusion
lie.
Could we, Aladdin like, descend
Into a place where diamonds
grow,
Our minds would then most surely tend
To value diamonds
very low.

The emerald's or diamond's shine,
Is valued not for that alone,
But
for its absence in the mine,
Where thousands lie, of common stone.

And thus, within the world of thought,
The pebble and the lead
abound,
But real pearls are seldom brought,
And gold or silver
rarely found.
We all have thoughts, we speak them, too,
The world is fill'd with
words of men,
But still is priz'd the precious hue,
Of golden
thoughts from tongue or pen;
And he who digs and brings to light
A
lovely thought, a pearly gem,
'Twill surely shine with lustre bright,

For men, to cheer and better them.

TEMPTATION.
The greatest glory consists, not in never falling, but
in getting up
every time you fall.--CONFUCIUS.
The raging force of passion's storm,
Say who can check at will.
Or
cope with sin, in ev'ry form,
With ever conquering skill?
How oft we've tried, and hop'd and pray'd
To conquer in the right;

But still, how oft our hearts, dismay'd,
Have fail'd amid the fight.
But still we fought the wrong we loath'd,
And though we fought in
vain,
Our wills in fleshly weakness cloth'd,
Would try the fight
again.
And He, I apprehend, who sees,
And knows our struggles here.
Will
lead us onward, by degrees,
To triumph, though we fear.
And even tho' we're never quit
Of these sharp earthly thorns,
In
black despair we'll never sit,
Till danger's signal warns.
We'll gird
ourselves anew, to fight
Our fell, determin'd foe,
And with
experience's light,
Each time more skilful grow.

SLANDER.
Of all the poison plants that grow,
And flourish in the human breast,

No other plant, perhaps, hath so
Deep clench'd a root, or peaceful
rest.
No other plant has such a fruit,
At once so sweet, and deadly too,

As that which loads each branch and shoot,
And falls for me to eat,
and you.
Fell jealousy, the monster wild,
Whose green eyes roll in frenzy
round,
His ravages are small, and mild,
To thine, and narrow'r far
his ground.
His pow'r is felt around his home,
But who can gauge the sway of
thine,
Which reaches high to heaven's dome,
And acts within the
darksome mine?
Thy poison drops distil each hour,
To blight, to ruin and destroy,

And find with dark, insidious pow'r,
The heart of woman, man and
boy.
What antidote can neutralize
Thy baneful force, thy potent spell?

For deepest danger ever lies
Within this poison draught of hell.
And
men will drink with eager lip,
The cup thou holdest forth to them,

Not knowing that the draught they sip
May their, and other souls,
condemn.

WOMAN.
I've had my share of bright employ,
My share of pain and blame,

But thro' it all, I've thought, with joy,
Of tender woman's name.

Her healing tones have often brought
New gladness to my soul;
Her
breath hath rent the darken'd clouds,
That often o'er it roll.
Her voice hath often cheer'd my heart,
In sickness and in pain,
And
help'd me bear the surgeon's knife,
Or fever's fervid reign.
But, oh, that voice can change its tone,
That tender feeling die,

Those gentle, loving tones become
A terrorizing cry.
In kindly sound, a woman's voice
Is happiness alone;
And may it
ever be my lot
To hear its tender tone.
But let me never know the thoughts
Of vengeful woman's heart,
Or
hear the voice that breathes them forth,
With cold and cruel dart.
O woman, thou hast mighty pow'r
Among the sons of men,
For
thou canst make deep, rankling wounds,
And heal them up again.
Oh, let thy angel nature shine,
And may we all refrain
To wake the
tiger in thy breast,
Bound by a slender chain.

SYMPATHY.
'Mid forces all, that work unseen,
And cheer or warm the human
breast,
Thou, Sympathy, hath ever been,
In active power, amid the
rest:
When raging hate, or heedless love,
Aspir'd to rule and reign
alone,
Thou still did keep thy place above,
And rul'd serenely, from
thy throne.
Thou ever dost assert thy right,
And walkest on thy gentle way,
To
rule with mild, persuasive might,
But with a strong, unconscious
sway,
What pow'r thou hast o'er human hearts
We daily feel, we
daily see;
For men and women act their parts,
Encourag'd and
upheld by thee.

For, in an unseen current runs,
From heart to heart, from soul to soul,

Thy force, like heat from genial suns,
To permeate and warm the
whole.
Not always, tho', to warm and cheer.
At times thy influence is chill,

And checks the noble rage of thought,
As ice can check a flowing