She inherits all his treasures, She is heir to all his fame, And the light that lightens round her Is the lustre of his name; She is wise with all his wisdom, Coward, can she reign and conquer ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER, 1826-1864. THE FISHERMAN'S SONG. AWAY-away o'er the feathery crest For our toil-lot lies on its boiling breast, And we've hymn'd in the grasp of the fiercest night, As we cleft the wave by its own white light, And away with its scaly spoil. Then oh for the long and the strong oar-sweep We have given, and will again; For when children's weal lies in the deep, And we'll think, as the blast grows loud and long, And we'll think, as the surge grows tall and strong, And we'll reel through the clutch of the shiv'ring green, For the warm, warm clasp at home— For the soothing smile of each heart's own queen, And her arms, like the flying foam. Then oh for the long and the strong oar-sweep We have given, and will again; For when children's weal lies in the deep, Oh! their fathers must be men. Do we yearn for the land, when toss'd on this? Than be singing farewell to the bold oar-sweep If our souls should bow to the savage deep, And if death, at times, through a foamy cloud, And oh 'twere glorious, sure, to die, In our toils for some on shore, With a hopeful eye fix'd calm on the sky, And a hand on the broken oar. Then oh for a long, strong, steady sweep; If our babes must fast till we rob the deep, ANONYMOUS. THE RAINY DAY. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary; My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Some days must be dark and dreary. -American. HONEST LABOUR BEARS A LOVELY FACE. ART thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring? Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? Then he that patiently want's burden bears Honest labour bears a lovely face; Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! THOMAS DEKKER, 1574-1638. |