Poor falling leaves! I have watched you
Fading slowly, with heavy heart,
And as you patter around me,
Vain tears to my tired eyes start.
Drearily the rain is falling,
And my soul is heavy with pain;
O winds, thy desolate sobbing
Hath wakened old dreams again!
Fading slowly, with heavy heart,
And as you patter around me,
Vain tears to my tired eyes start.
Drearily the rain is falling,
And my soul is heavy with pain;
O winds, thy desolate sobbing
Hath wakened old dreams again!
Short-lived, but ah! how lovely
Were the peaceful summer hours!
Sweet golden days in the wildwood,
Reposing ’mid fairest bowers.
The skies were grand in their beauty,
And the earth was never more fair;
The hills and vales filled with rapture,
Caressed by the perfumed air.
Were the peaceful summer hours!
Sweet golden days in the wildwood,
Reposing ’mid fairest bowers.
The skies were grand in their beauty,
And the earth was never more fair;
The hills and vales filled with rapture,
Caressed by the perfumed air.
As a child of nature I revelled
By hillside, cool streamlet, and sea;
Tender and kind were the voices
That whispered in love unto me
Of a time that had no seeming,
When life was all joyous and gay,
And the years, with roses laden,
Passed soon like a dream away.
By hillside, cool streamlet, and sea;
Tender and kind were the voices
That whispered in love unto me
Of a time that had no seeming,
When life was all joyous and gay,
And the years, with roses laden,
Passed soon like a dream away.
I knew when the autumn shrouded
The world in a strange, sad veil,
And heard in the lonely woodland
The hollow, mysterious wail
Of the wind in sad meanderings
By forsaken bower and stream,
Searching out the dim recesses
Where the summer had dwelt supreme.
The world in a strange, sad veil,
And heard in the lonely woodland
The hollow, mysterious wail
Of the wind in sad meanderings
By forsaken bower and stream,
Searching out the dim recesses
Where the summer had dwelt supreme.
Whence cometh these weird, sad longings?
Ah! wherefore this dreary pain?
I’m tired as a weary child,
And would rest and forget again;
But the drip of the weeping rain,
And the moan of waves on the shore,
And the pitiful falling leaves
May cease in the heart nevermore.
Ah! wherefore this dreary pain?
I’m tired as a weary child,
And would rest and forget again;
But the drip of the weeping rain,
And the moan of waves on the shore,
And the pitiful falling leaves
May cease in the heart nevermore.
THE SEA.
Ah! but thou’rt beautiful, sapphire sea,
When the sun in splendor along thee smiles,
And thy sparkling wavelets rise and fall
In murmurs afar by a thousand isles,
Where whispering winds speak soft and low—
O gentle isles, kissed by thy restless feet—
Where the spices and palm and olives grow,
And odorous blossoms so fair and sweet.
When the sun in splendor along thee smiles,
And thy sparkling wavelets rise and fall
In murmurs afar by a thousand isles,
Where whispering winds speak soft and low—
O gentle isles, kissed by thy restless feet—
Where the spices and palm and olives grow,
And odorous blossoms so fair and sweet.
But why dost thou moan so, O great, sad sea?
Such a weary, pitiful, pleading moan,
Like a soul all dead to the hope of heaven,
Drifting out and lost in the vast unknown.
And why dost thou sob through the moonless night?
Such passionate sobs rend thy deep, dark caves,
Throbbing up from thy bosom ne’er at rest,
O sea, with thy million lone hidden graves!
Such a weary, pitiful, pleading moan,
Like a soul all dead to the hope of heaven,
Drifting out and lost in the vast unknown.
And why dost thou sob through the moonless night?
Such passionate sobs rend thy deep, dark caves,
Throbbing up from thy bosom ne’er at rest,
O sea, with thy million lone hidden graves!
Thy deep soul ever appealeth to me
In the lonesome night on the wave-worn shore;
But I cannot tell all it says to me
Of voices and dreamings that are no more.
Sometimes thou murmurest soft and low,
When the summer glorifies earth and sea;
Thy pathetic voice is borne on the wind,
The sweet south wind toying kindly with thee.
In the lonesome night on the wave-worn shore;
But I cannot tell all it says to me
Of voices and dreamings that are no more.
Sometimes thou murmurest soft and low,
When the summer glorifies earth and sea;
Thy pathetic voice is borne on the wind,
The sweet south wind toying kindly with thee.
And thou seemest to woo in tender tones,
And would clasp and hold the warm, shining shore;
But thou failest, O sea, and thy sad voice
Is sobbing and sobbing forevermore.
O wonderful, majestic, awesome sea!
Surely the Creator speaketh in thee;
And a sorrow so deep, so mysterious,
Appealeth in sobs eternally.
And would clasp and hold the warm, shining shore;
But thou failest, O sea, and thy sad voice
Is sobbing and sobbing forevermore.
O wonderful, majestic, awesome sea!
Surely the Creator speaketh in thee;
And a sorrow so deep, so mysterious,
Appealeth in sobs eternally.
When the wild typhoon sweeps thy heaving breast,
And thy billows threaten the angry sky,
Thy merciless fury knoweth no bounds
As the doomed ships before thee madly fly.
In vain the appealing flag of distress,
In vain the minute guns peal o’er the sea,
In vain are prayers and the pleading cry—
They sink! they sink to eternity!
And thy billows threaten the angry sky,
Thy merciless fury knoweth no bounds
As the doomed ships before thee madly fly.
In vain the appealing flag of distress,
In vain the minute guns peal o’er the sea,
In vain are prayers and the pleading cry—
They sink! they sink to eternity!
But the storm rolls by, and the waves subside,
And the sun in glory bursts forth again;
But oh! there are many breaking hearts,
Weary of waiting in hopeless pain.
Aye, ye’re watching in vain through dimming eyes;
Ye’ve waited so long by the storm-swept shore:
The seasons will come and the years will go,
But the loved will come no more, no more.
And the sun in glory bursts forth again;
But oh! there are many breaking hearts,
Weary of waiting in hopeless pain.
Aye, ye’re watching in vain through dimming eyes;
Ye’ve waited so long by the storm-swept shore:
The seasons will come and the years will go,
But the loved will come no more, no more.
Art troubled, O sea, that ye rest not, nor sleep,
Nor cease thy dirges by night or day?
The loved and lost of the pale, dead past
Strew thy drear chambers and desolate way.
And they slumber in utter loneliness;
No friend may kneel by their dismal tomb;
They never know of the spring’s fair hours,
Or the songs of birds. The summer’s bloom
Nor cease thy dirges by night or day?
The loved and lost of the pale, dead past
Strew thy drear chambers and desolate way.
And they slumber in utter loneliness;
No friend may kneel by their dismal tomb;
They never know of the spring’s fair hours,
Or the songs of birds. The summer’s bloom
Decks not their mystical, sea-fret graves,
But they await the illumining ray
Of light from heaven to pierce the cold gloom—
An everlasting celestial day.
I love thee, O sea, in thy every mood—
In passion rent, or in gentle tone;
Thy awesome voice is a mystery still,
But never at rest is thy weary moan.
But they await the illumining ray
Of light from heaven to pierce the cold gloom—
An everlasting celestial day.
I love thee, O sea, in thy every mood—
In passion rent, or in gentle tone;
Thy awesome voice is a mystery still,
But never at rest is thy weary moan.
ONLY A FADED LEAF.
’Twas only a faded leaf
That settled down on my hair,
The last from a poor bare bough
In the crisp October air.
I gathered it tenderly in,
And could not restrain the tears
As I thought of summer hours
And the silent faded years.
That settled down on my hair,
The last from a poor bare bough
In the crisp October air.
I gathered it tenderly in,
And could not restrain the tears
As I thought of summer hours
And the silent faded years.
O beautiful fallen leaf!
Russet and crimson and gold,
With a tinge of emerald still,
Smitten by the frost and cold.
A souvenir of the past,
Telling of spring’s fair hours,
Of the bloom and sighing winds,
And June’s ambrosial bowers.
Russet and crimson and gold,
With a tinge of emerald still,
Smitten by the frost and cold.
A souvenir of the past,
Telling of spring’s fair hours,
Of the bloom and sighing winds,
And June’s ambrosial bowers.
But still this dear autumn time
Is tender and subtly sweet,
Though littered by fallen leaves
Rustling sad at my feet.
As lives that are good and true
Fade out like an autumn day;
More beautiful at the last,
They serenely pass away.
Is tender and subtly sweet,
Though littered by fallen leaves
Rustling sad at my feet.
As lives that are good and true
Fade out like an autumn day;
More beautiful at the last,
They serenely pass away.
So all the hills are enwrapped
In the hazy, dreamy light
Of the Indian summertime—
A season of calm delight.
Ah! little pale fallen leaf,
Type, thou, of man’s short hour—
To bud and bloom for a span,
And fade as the leaf and flower.
In the hazy, dreamy light
Of the Indian summertime—
A season of calm delight.
Ah! little pale fallen leaf,
Type, thou, of man’s short hour—
To bud and bloom for a span,
And fade as the leaf and flower.
ASTRAY.
I have not a cent in the world,
And I’ve left my father’s home
Out in the hard world to wander,
Friendless, poor, and alone.
I have sought in vain for a place
To earn my daily bread,
A shelter from the winter’s storm,
And a place to lay my head.
And I’ve left my father’s home
Out in the hard world to wander,
Friendless, poor, and alone.
I have sought in vain for a place
To earn my daily bread,
A shelter from the winter’s storm,
And a place to lay my head.
But cold are the bosoms I meet,
Aye, cold as the drifting snow;
I’m turned away from their doors,
And I know not where to go.
All day I’ve struggled along
Through the weary wastes of snow,
And I’m tired almost to death,
But who will care now, or know?
Aye, cold as the drifting snow;
I’m turned away from their doors,
And I know not where to go.
All day I’ve struggled along
Through the weary wastes of snow,
And I’m tired almost to death,
But who will care now, or know?
The night is closing around me,
And fierce is the angry sky;
I’m hungry and faint and helpless—
Must I sink by the way and die?
’Tis strange in this terrible hour
That thoughts of my childhood’s days
Should pass like a dream before me
In all their innocent ways.
And fierce is the angry sky;
I’m hungry and faint and helpless—
Must I sink by the way and die?
’Tis strange in this terrible hour
That thoughts of my childhood’s days
Should pass like a dream before me
In all their innocent ways.
Ah! sunny home by the hillside,
Song-birds of the long ago,
I hear your glad, wild, sweet singing,
And the murmuring brooklet’s flow.
Ah! happy days in the wildwood,
Revelling in nature’s bowers;
Bluest skies, and soft wind sighing
’Mid the tall trees and flowers.
Song-birds of the long ago,
I hear your glad, wild, sweet singing,
And the murmuring brooklet’s flow.
Ah! happy days in the wildwood,
Revelling in nature’s bowers;
Bluest skies, and soft wind sighing
’Mid the tall trees and flowers.
Ah! songs I sang with my mother
At evening’s golden glow,
Voices of father and brother,
Why are ye haunting me so?
Ah! years that came with temptation,
And lured me away from right,
Till hope was gone, and in frenzy
I fled from its wiles in fright.
At evening’s golden glow,
Voices of father and brother,
Why are ye haunting me so?
Ah! years that came with temptation,
And lured me away from right,
Till hope was gone, and in frenzy
I fled from its wiles in fright.
Weep, hearts, for there on the morrow,
By the sun’s wan light ye may trace
His weary way, and find there
Frozen tears on his poor dead face.
God in His infinite mercy
Knew when all hope was slain,
And closed his eyes, and in pity
Relieved him from earthly pain.
By the sun’s wan light ye may trace
His weary way, and find there
Frozen tears on his poor dead face.
God in His infinite mercy
Knew when all hope was slain,
And closed his eyes, and in pity
Relieved him from earthly pain.
A SPECTRE.
Away, gaunt fiend!
Take thy tyrannous presence from my cottage door.
Too long thou hast held me captive at thy will,
And I cannot bear thy blighting touch so chill,
For I am weary, and my heart is bruised and sore.
Too long thou’st mocked me with thy hideous face;
When all the world seemed dark and cold to me,
Thou’st jeered and taunted in thy fiendish glee,
That I was homeless and had scarce a resting place.
Take thy tyrannous presence from my cottage door.
Too long thou hast held me captive at thy will,
And I cannot bear thy blighting touch so chill,
For I am weary, and my heart is bruised and sore.
Too long thou’st mocked me with thy hideous face;
When all the world seemed dark and cold to me,
Thou’st jeered and taunted in thy fiendish glee,
That I was homeless and had scarce a resting place.
Vile spectre, avaunt!
Take thy evil visage from my humble cottage door,
And thy lacerating talons from my shrinking heart.
O! I have prayed that thou would’st pity and depart,
And leave me peace at last that I might want no more.
Why hast thou all these weary and burdened years
Shadowed every hope and left but toil and pain,
Clutched at my very life, and made all vain
The aspirations that died in sorrow and in tears?
Take thy evil visage from my humble cottage door,
And thy lacerating talons from my shrinking heart.
O! I have prayed that thou would’st pity and depart,
And leave me peace at last that I might want no more.
Why hast thou all these weary and burdened years
Shadowed every hope and left but toil and pain,
Clutched at my very life, and made all vain
The aspirations that died in sorrow and in tears?
Down, black phantom!
Filled with blighted hopes, vain dreams, and dead men’s bones,
Thou heedest not the pleadings of the souls that die,
The widow’s want and prayer, the orphan’s cry
For help, earth’s poor that struggle on ’mid sighs and moans.
Thou hast still’d the voices that rang light and gay,
And hushed the laughter that will gush no more,
And brought the gloom of night along the shining shore
Of souls once bright with bloom and sunny as the day.
Filled with blighted hopes, vain dreams, and dead men’s bones,
Thou heedest not the pleadings of the souls that die,
The widow’s want and prayer, the orphan’s cry
For help, earth’s poor that struggle on ’mid sighs and moans.
Thou hast still’d the voices that rang light and gay,
And hushed the laughter that will gush no more,
And brought the gloom of night along the shining shore
Of souls once bright with bloom and sunny as the day.
Insatiate ghoul!
I’d snatch thee from thy infamous pedestal,
And hurl thee writhing down the glaring vaults of hell,
That man might walk redeemed, with head erect, and dwell
In plenteousness when capital’s divided well.
But I’ll arise and smite thy grinning, dev’lish face;
Aye, I’ll fight thee unto death’s grim, ghastly gate,
And, though I perish by thy cruel fangs and fate,
’Twere best to fight a hero’s fight for liberty and place!
I’d snatch thee from thy infamous pedestal,
And hurl thee writhing down the glaring vaults of hell,
That man might walk redeemed, with head erect, and dwell
In plenteousness when capital’s divided well.
But I’ll arise and smite thy grinning, dev’lish face;
Aye, I’ll fight thee unto death’s grim, ghastly gate,
And, though I perish by thy cruel fangs and fate,
’Twere best to fight a hero’s fight for liberty and place!
Malignant foe!
Thou shalt at last be put to ignominious flight,
For life is but a span, an echo on the shore,
Where burdens are laid down and sorrow is no more.
Thy doom shall be “cast out in endless, shoreless night.”
Thank God, there is a sphere to which thou canst not rise,
A radiant place of fadeless bloom divine:
Man’s home supernal, far beyond the reach of time,
Where weary ones may rest, O wondrous paradise!
Thou shalt at last be put to ignominious flight,
For life is but a span, an echo on the shore,
Where burdens are laid down and sorrow is no more.
Thy doom shall be “cast out in endless, shoreless night.”
Thank God, there is a sphere to which thou canst not rise,
A radiant place of fadeless bloom divine:
Man’s home supernal, far beyond the reach of time,
Where weary ones may rest, O wondrous paradise!
A REVERIE.
The golden sun all mellow was falling
Adown the far aisles of the flaming west,
Bathing earth and sea in fading glory
As it sank majestically to rest.
Murmuringly the summer winds were breathing
A song of love to the birds and flowers,
Wooing low the streams and distant woodlands,
And toying with gems in fairest bowers.
Low were the tones, mysterious and soothing,
That came from the depths of the throbbing sea,
Whisp’ring the soul of the great Eternal,
Far, far beyond, where bright spirits are free.
Adown the far aisles of the flaming west,
Bathing earth and sea in fading glory
As it sank majestically to rest.
Murmuringly the summer winds were breathing
A song of love to the birds and flowers,
Wooing low the streams and distant woodlands,
And toying with gems in fairest bowers.
Low were the tones, mysterious and soothing,
That came from the depths of the throbbing sea,
Whisp’ring the soul of the great Eternal,
Far, far beyond, where bright spirits are free.
Gently the twilight came stealing around me,
Mantling earth and sea in dreamy array;
Palely the night orbs o’er me were twinkling,
Silv’ring the waters away and away.
Serenely the queen of night in her beauty
Looked on the sea and the isles afar,
Pointing her rays o’er the quivering foliage
To the far gates of day just left ajar.
Sweet were my dreamings alone in the gloaming
On that summer’s eve of the long ago,
Loving and trusting in meek adoration,
Quaffing from nature’s mysterious flow.
Mantling earth and sea in dreamy array;
Palely the night orbs o’er me were twinkling,
Silv’ring the waters away and away.
Serenely the queen of night in her beauty
Looked on the sea and the isles afar,
Pointing her rays o’er the quivering foliage
To the far gates of day just left ajar.
Sweet were my dreamings alone in the gloaming
On that summer’s eve of the long ago,
Loving and trusting in meek adoration,
Quaffing from nature’s mysterious flow.
I paused by the murmuring sad voiced sea,
Dreaming of love, with the world at my feet;
So trusting is youth at the flush of its morn,
Soaring high on the wings of hope complete.
But darker and denser the shadows grew,
Deepening to gloom as night grew apace;
Ghostly clouds hid the stars, sky, earth, and sea,
And the crescent moon hid her beautiful face;
And the wandering night winds sighed and grieved,
And the waves sobbed low along the dim shore,
And a voice like a prayer, full of tears,
Wailed pitifully, “Nevermore!”
Dreaming of love, with the world at my feet;
So trusting is youth at the flush of its morn,
Soaring high on the wings of hope complete.
But darker and denser the shadows grew,
Deepening to gloom as night grew apace;
Ghostly clouds hid the stars, sky, earth, and sea,
And the crescent moon hid her beautiful face;
And the wandering night winds sighed and grieved,
And the waves sobbed low along the dim shore,
And a voice like a prayer, full of tears,
Wailed pitifully, “Nevermore!”
And I softly wept, yet I scarce knew why;
Vague doubts and fears touched my passionate soul,
Like the approaching tempest heard afar
When its muttering thunders onward roll.
I wandered away o’er the pitiless world,
Fighting life’s battle with might and with main,
And amid toil and tears through long sad years,
So weary of waiting, and all in vain.
All scathed and worn by the battle’s fierce flame,
With the day uncertain and incomplete;
Bright hope, love, and fame, and friendship so dear,
Lie a pitiful wreck at my tired feet.
Vague doubts and fears touched my passionate soul,
Like the approaching tempest heard afar
When its muttering thunders onward roll.
I wandered away o’er the pitiless world,
Fighting life’s battle with might and with main,
And amid toil and tears through long sad years,
So weary of waiting, and all in vain.
All scathed and worn by the battle’s fierce flame,
With the day uncertain and incomplete;
Bright hope, love, and fame, and friendship so dear,
Lie a pitiful wreck at my tired feet.
I’ve come once again with the summer time,
At the evetime’s mystical afterglow,
To the lonely sea, ’neath a waning moon,
Where the waves still restlessly ebb and flow.
I look far out o’er the shadowed deep,
Seeking its dreamland isles afar;
But I scarce can see for the blinding tears
The beautiful sunset gates ajar.
But I seem to view up its golden aisles
A fairer world ’neath immortal skies,
All bright with bloom, and the friends I loved,
On the fadeless hills of paradise!
At the evetime’s mystical afterglow,
To the lonely sea, ’neath a waning moon,
Where the waves still restlessly ebb and flow.
I look far out o’er the shadowed deep,
Seeking its dreamland isles afar;
But I scarce can see for the blinding tears
The beautiful sunset gates ajar.
But I seem to view up its golden aisles
A fairer world ’neath immortal skies,
All bright with bloom, and the friends I loved,
On the fadeless hills of paradise!
IN MEMORIAM.
List! The year was slowly dying
In the dark December days,
And the winds moaned low and sadly
O’er the lonely winter ways.
And the hills and vales were lying
As when life’s last flush hath fled,
Folded in a snowy mantle,
Silent, dreamless, cold and dread.
In the dark December days,
And the winds moaned low and sadly
O’er the lonely winter ways.
And the hills and vales were lying
As when life’s last flush hath fled,
Folded in a snowy mantle,
Silent, dreamless, cold and dread.
Whilst the winds without were grieving
O’er the meads and frozen streams,
Hearts within were filled with mourning,
Near the firelight’s fitful gleams.
On a couch of painful anguish,
Meek and patient, pale and wan,
Hand clasped hand in solemn parting—
Dying mother, stricken son.
O’er the meads and frozen streams,
Hearts within were filled with mourning,
Near the firelight’s fitful gleams.
On a couch of painful anguish,
Meek and patient, pale and wan,
Hand clasped hand in solemn parting—
Dying mother, stricken son.
“Dearest mother, are you trusting
In the name of Jesus now,
As you near the Stygian river
With the death damps on your brow?
Oh, so cold and dark the waters!
Do you fear to enter in?
Mother, I shall sadly miss you
In this world of care and sin.”
In the name of Jesus now,
As you near the Stygian river
With the death damps on your brow?
Oh, so cold and dark the waters!
Do you fear to enter in?
Mother, I shall sadly miss you
In this world of care and sin.”
“Yes, my boy, I’m fully trusting
In the Saviour’s mighty love;
And I know His hand will guide me
Safely to His courts above.
Ah! I hear such holy voices
Chanting on the other shore,
Filling all my soul with rapture
As I’m swiftly sailing o’er.”
In the Saviour’s mighty love;
And I know His hand will guide me
Safely to His courts above.
Ah! I hear such holy voices
Chanting on the other shore,
Filling all my soul with rapture
As I’m swiftly sailing o’er.”
Thus she passed beyond the river,
Far beyond the gleaming bars
Of the sunset’s golden glory
And the pathway of the stars.
And they laid her last cold relics
’Neath the dreary drifting snow,
Whilst the winds moaned saddest requiem,
Prayerful, solemn, grieved, and low.
Far beyond the gleaming bars
Of the sunset’s golden glory
And the pathway of the stars.
And they laid her last cold relics
’Neath the dreary drifting snow,
Whilst the winds moaned saddest requiem,
Prayerful, solemn, grieved, and low.
ONLY DREAMS.
Only dreams, aye, dreams forever
Haunt my soul and fill my brain
With the loved that I may never
Meet in this great world again.
Springtime seems but fraught with sadness,
Though the birds sing just as gay;
And there’s still as much of gladness
In the blooming, balmy May;
Haunt my soul and fill my brain
With the loved that I may never
Meet in this great world again.
Springtime seems but fraught with sadness,
Though the birds sing just as gay;
And there’s still as much of gladness
In the blooming, balmy May;
And the soft winds play as lightly
O’er the verdure and the flowers;
And the sun beams just as brightly
Over nature’s lovely bowers;
And the streamlet and the river
Murmur onward to the sea,
Singing low with silver quiver
Just the same, but not to me;
O’er the verdure and the flowers;
And the sun beams just as brightly
Over nature’s lovely bowers;
And the streamlet and the river
Murmur onward to the sea,
Singing low with silver quiver
Just the same, but not to me;
And the twilight dews of even
Just as sweet a fragrance shed,
And the pale night orbs of heaven
Beam the same, though years have fled—
Years that brought so many changes,
Years that stole my flowers away;
Now in fancy only linger
Dreams that once were bright as day.
Just as sweet a fragrance shed,
And the pale night orbs of heaven
Beam the same, though years have fled—
Years that brought so many changes,
Years that stole my flowers away;
Now in fancy only linger
Dreams that once were bright as day.
THE BATTLE OF CUT KNIFE HILL.
O’er the vast rolling prairie,
And afar in the “Great Lone Land,”
Otter’s column’s advancing
Amid dangers on every hand.
Yet forward, steadily forward,
A day and a long night they go,
And just at the morn’s pale dawning
Sweep down on the savage foe.
And afar in the “Great Lone Land,”
Otter’s column’s advancing
Amid dangers on every hand.
Yet forward, steadily forward,
A day and a long night they go,
And just at the morn’s pale dawning
Sweep down on the savage foe.
And under the gallant Otter
Swiftly they form up and well,
Dash forward over the streamlet
Into coulee, ravine and dell.
Moving into the fighting line
With a rush the fierce gatling goes;
Forward, into the hot centre,
Dealing death on the dusky foes.
Swiftly they form up and well,
Dash forward over the streamlet
Into coulee, ravine and dell.
Moving into the fighting line
With a rush the fierce gatling goes;
Forward, into the hot centre,
Dealing death on the dusky foes.
And the intrepid Shortt moves up,
Placing his guns on either side,
To sweep coulee and dark ravine,
And the Cut Knife Hill far and wide.
With “B” Battery in support
Of Rutherford’s raging guns,
Shaking the dark, trembling stream
That by the base of Cut Knife runs.
Placing his guns on either side,
To sweep coulee and dark ravine,
And the Cut Knife Hill far and wide.
With “B” Battery in support
Of Rutherford’s raging guns,
Shaking the dark, trembling stream
That by the base of Cut Knife runs.
On either flank of the batteries
The Mounted Police were placed,
And steadily they extended,
And proudly the dark foe faced.
To the right and rear were the Guards,
And the proud Infantry School corps,
Cool and steady as on parade,
Under Gray and the stern Wadmore.
The Mounted Police were placed,
And steadily they extended,
And proudly the dark foe faced.
To the right and rear were the Guards,
And the proud Infantry School corps,
Cool and steady as on parade,
Under Gray and the stern Wadmore.
To the left, on a ledge of the hill,
Extending near unto the stream,
Was the ever-gallant Queen’s Own
With but an interval between
The stealthy approach of the foe.
Protecting the ford and right rear
Was the good Battleford Rifles—
Brave men, deterred not by fear.
Extending near unto the stream,
Was the ever-gallant Queen’s Own
With but an interval between
The stealthy approach of the foe.
Protecting the ford and right rear
Was the good Battleford Rifles—
Brave men, deterred not by fear.
Opening along the whole line,
The roaring guns shake the hill,
And the infantry’s fire crashes,
And all hearts heroically thrill.
Thus cool, collected, and steady,
Dealing out grim death on the foe,
By coulee and hill and ravine,
And the trembling stream below.
The roaring guns shake the hill,
And the infantry’s fire crashes,
And all hearts heroically thrill.
Thus cool, collected, and steady,
Dealing out grim death on the foe,
By coulee and hill and ravine,
And the trembling stream below.
Here the foe rushed for our gatling,
But were met by a scorching flame
From the Police and artillery,
And driven confused back again.
Shortt gallantly led the brave onset,
And the foe were punished sore,
And the deafening guns raged madly,
In one incessant roar.
But were met by a scorching flame
From the Police and artillery,
And driven confused back again.
Shortt gallantly led the brave onset,
And the foe were punished sore,
And the deafening guns raged madly,
In one incessant roar.
The right rear was now menaced,
But there came a defiant cheer
From the ready Battleford corps
As the savage foe drew near.
And the gallant Nash with his corps
Cleared the ground that was threatened so;
The Queen’s Own and the Guards assisted,
And delivered a telling blow.
But there came a defiant cheer
From the ready Battleford corps
As the savage foe drew near.
And the gallant Nash with his corps
Cleared the ground that was threatened so;
The Queen’s Own and the Guards assisted,
And delivered a telling blow.
The left rear, too, was threatened,
But instantly now to the fore
Went the fearless Queen’s Own Rifles
And Nash with his gallant corps.
Hot and furious was their fire,
Holding there the red fiends at bay,
And their coolness and their valor
Added lustre to the day.
But instantly now to the fore
Went the fearless Queen’s Own Rifles
And Nash with his gallant corps.
Hot and furious was their fire,
Holding there the red fiends at bay,
And their coolness and their valor
Added lustre to the day.
Meanwhile, Ross, the intrepid scout,
With his resourceful, daring band,
Stole around the dark foeman’s flank,
Making untenable their stand.
Thus at eleven o’clock of the day,
After six hours of strife,
Our flanks and our rear were clear of the foe,
Though severe was the loss of life.
With his resourceful, daring band,
Stole around the dark foeman’s flank,
Making untenable their stand.
Thus at eleven o’clock of the day,
After six hours of strife,
Our flanks and our rear were clear of the foe,
Though severe was the loss of life.
But the object of the reconnaissance
Was admirably attained,
And Canadian and British valor
Was at Cut Knife Hill sustained.
The wounded and dying were cared for,
And the gallant dead borne away
To the slow, sad tread of comrades,
At the close of the dying day.
Was admirably attained,
And Canadian and British valor
Was at Cut Knife Hill sustained.
The wounded and dying were cared for,
And the gallant dead borne away
To the slow, sad tread of comrades,
At the close of the dying day.
Honor Otter, Herchmer, and Shortt,
Wattom and the gallant Pelletier,
Nash and McKell, Sears and Mutton,
And Rutherford hail with a cheer.
They fought for this grand land of ours,
For our union from sea to sea;
Placing their lives in the balance,
They won, and Canada is free.
Wattom and the gallant Pelletier,
Nash and McKell, Sears and Mutton,
And Rutherford hail with a cheer.
They fought for this grand land of ours,
For our union from sea to sea;
Placing their lives in the balance,
They won, and Canada is free.
And shall not a grateful country
Honor the living and dead?
We, so blest in our true freedom,
Remember the blood that was shed.
As long as the years roll by us
May the Old Flag over us wave,
And conspirators and traitors
Find a ready dishonored grave.
Honor the living and dead?
We, so blest in our true freedom,
Remember the blood that was shed.
As long as the years roll by us
May the Old Flag over us wave,
And conspirators and traitors
Find a ready dishonored grave.
THE SILENT VOICE.
O songless, lost, and silent voice,
Steal back from pale oblivion’s shore,
And breathe the songs so loved of old,
That echo down the years no more.
O voice, lost voice, that pined and died—
A solace with the changing years—
I miss thee so, my more than friend,
That soothed to rest life’s cares and fears.
Steal back from pale oblivion’s shore,
And breathe the songs so loved of old,
That echo down the years no more.
O voice, lost voice, that pined and died—
A solace with the changing years—
I miss thee so, my more than friend,
That soothed to rest life’s cares and fears.
We were so gay, lost friend and I,
When life was young and all a song;
And tenderness steals o’er us now,
As thoughts of old around us throng.
We played at dawn by field and glade;
The wild birds joined us with their song;
And oh! the days were fair and sweet
That to the dreamy past belong.
When life was young and all a song;
And tenderness steals o’er us now,
As thoughts of old around us throng.
We played at dawn by field and glade;
The wild birds joined us with their song;
And oh! the days were fair and sweet
That to the dreamy past belong.
We were so merry when the hills
Were mantled o’er with emerald green,
And summer winds blew soft and low,
And bloomed the lilies by the stream.
And how we sang by lane and mead,
And wandered through the forest aisles,
By brook and rill and lonely tarn,
Where nature in profusion smiles.
Were mantled o’er with emerald green,
And summer winds blew soft and low,
And bloomed the lilies by the stream.
And how we sang by lane and mead,
And wandered through the forest aisles,
By brook and rill and lonely tarn,
Where nature in profusion smiles.
And tasks were lightened by our lay,
And dear to us was the old farm—
Our own dear home beside the stream,
Where hearts were sunny, true and warm.
The ev’ning heard us singing still—
A solace ’twas for every care—
Ah! feet will seldom go astray,
If cheered by song and mother’s prayer.
And dear to us was the old farm—
Our own dear home beside the stream,
Where hearts were sunny, true and warm.
The ev’ning heard us singing still—
A solace ’twas for every care—
Ah! feet will seldom go astray,
If cheered by song and mother’s prayer.
We had a lay for every theme,
And sang of home, of life, of heaven,
Our country and our country’s cause,
The sinner, and his sins forgiven.
We sang of friendship and of love,
Of plighted troth and true hearts slain,
Of heroes and their noble war
On many a hard-fought battle plain.
And sang of home, of life, of heaven,
Our country and our country’s cause,
The sinner, and his sins forgiven.
We sang of friendship and of love,
Of plighted troth and true hearts slain,
Of heroes and their noble war
On many a hard-fought battle plain.
But time flows on, and bears away
Our youthful dreams, and on the tide
Of stormy seas we too are borne,
Drifting and drifting far and wide.
And still we sing, though oft through tears
We scarce can trace the lonesome way,
Or count our grievous loss or gains
As closes down the dreary day.
Our youthful dreams, and on the tide
Of stormy seas we too are borne,
Drifting and drifting far and wide.
And still we sing, though oft through tears
We scarce can trace the lonesome way,
Or count our grievous loss or gains
As closes down the dreary day.
And we have known adversity,
Saw love and friendship take their flight;
And very weary grew our feet;
Alone we looked upon the night.
And sad and sadder grew our lay,
But still it soothed the heart to rest;
Teaching us patience to abide
The years in trust and tenderness.
Saw love and friendship take their flight;
And very weary grew our feet;
Alone we looked upon the night.
And sad and sadder grew our lay,
But still it soothed the heart to rest;
Teaching us patience to abide
The years in trust and tenderness.
But when our voice grew weary, too,
Chilled by the winter’s sleet and rain,
And stilled in death’s embrace it lay,
Our head bowed low in dreary pain.
We are forgot, our voice and I,
That once could wake the smile or tear,
And stir the heart to tenderness,
And drive away its every fear.
Chilled by the winter’s sleet and rain,
And stilled in death’s embrace it lay,
Our head bowed low in dreary pain.
We are forgot, our voice and I,
That once could wake the smile or tear,
And stir the heart to tenderness,
And drive away its every fear.
And now our feet must go alone;
Our day is passing, night is near;
If we should sink beneath our load,
Ah! who will drop a silent tear?
A thought comes to us, and it cheers,
It makes the lonely heart rejoice,
That in a sphere above the stars
Awaits a more melodious voice.
Our day is passing, night is near;
If we should sink beneath our load,
Ah! who will drop a silent tear?
A thought comes to us, and it cheers,
It makes the lonely heart rejoice,
That in a sphere above the stars
Awaits a more melodious voice.
FORGOTTEN.
A little apart from the rest,
Unnoticed and alone,
No crypt or costly monument,
Nor rich engraven stone.
A little lonely weed-grown mound
But marks the silent spot
Of all that now is left of her,
The fair, so soon forgot.
Unnoticed and alone,
No crypt or costly monument,
Nor rich engraven stone.
A little lonely weed-grown mound
But marks the silent spot
Of all that now is left of her,
The fair, so soon forgot.
The summer hath kindly given
A few wild fragrant flowers
To deck her lonely, neglected grave
In meekness from her bowers.
And nature’s song is there trilling
A soothing lullaby,
And in the rustling foliage
The wind breathes sigh for sigh
A few wild fragrant flowers
To deck her lonely, neglected grave
In meekness from her bowers.
And nature’s song is there trilling
A soothing lullaby,
And in the rustling foliage
The wind breathes sigh for sigh
To the voice of wavelets murmuring
In whispers deep and low,
Of a maiden fair as summer
That perished long ago.
Meek and loving and gentle,
Pure as the angels are
Was her every thought and feeling,
Her soul was bright as a star.
In whispers deep and low,
Of a maiden fair as summer
That perished long ago.
Meek and loving and gentle,
Pure as the angels are
Was her every thought and feeling,
Her soul was bright as a star.
INNER LIFE.
What is this that subtly stealeth
Over my soul to-day,
Just as the last sweet day of summer
Fleeth swiftly away.
Weird and strained is this tender silence
That broodeth o’er the lea,
Over the streams and lonely woodlands,
And along the shrouded sea.
Over my soul to-day,
Just as the last sweet day of summer
Fleeth swiftly away.
Weird and strained is this tender silence
That broodeth o’er the lea,
Over the streams and lonely woodlands,
And along the shrouded sea.
The fields are shorn of their golden yield,
The harvest time is o’er,
And the last sweet day of the summer
Is gone for evermore.
I hear only the crickets chanting
A ceaseless, haunting strain,
And the plaint of the wandering winds
Filling my heart with pain.
The harvest time is o’er,
And the last sweet day of the summer
Is gone for evermore.
I hear only the crickets chanting
A ceaseless, haunting strain,
And the plaint of the wandering winds
Filling my heart with pain.
Regret for the past that was so fair
Steals back with phantom tread,
With beautiful dreams and faces dear
Hid with the silent dead.
And I bow in tender reverence
Beside their sacred tomb;
My soul is full of a fond desire
For rest, sweet rest, and home.
Steals back with phantom tread,
With beautiful dreams and faces dear
Hid with the silent dead.
And I bow in tender reverence
Beside their sacred tomb;
My soul is full of a fond desire
For rest, sweet rest, and home.
But still in these mystical dreamings
Comfort and strength is given;
These soulful, loving, and tender thoughts
Bring us nearer heaven.
And nature is full of subtle charms
That speak to the soul alone;
And they soothe and purify and bless,
Nearing the setting sun.
Comfort and strength is given;
These soulful, loving, and tender thoughts
Bring us nearer heaven.
And nature is full of subtle charms
That speak to the soul alone;
And they soothe and purify and bless,
Nearing the setting sun.
SPRING-TIME.
A monotone of love and song,
In cadence mild, serene
As unseen harps borne on the wind,
Breathes over all the scene.
I love thee yet, beauteous time;
Yet oh, so far away
Adown the dim forsaken past
Thou lead’st my thoughts to-day.
In cadence mild, serene
As unseen harps borne on the wind,
Breathes over all the scene.
I love thee yet, beauteous time;
Yet oh, so far away
Adown the dim forsaken past
Thou lead’st my thoughts to-day.
So grand, awak’ning from death’s sleep,
So regally adorned
Art thou, O nature’s queen; and I
Thy absence long have mourned
As for the dead who come no more.
Across a wintry sea
I look in vain; only in dreams
Do they return to me.
So regally adorned
Art thou, O nature’s queen; and I
Thy absence long have mourned
As for the dead who come no more.
Across a wintry sea
I look in vain; only in dreams
Do they return to me.
WE HAVE MISSED THEE.
A SONG.
When the low, sweet winds of summer
Play among the wildwood trees,
And the waves of ocean murmur,
And the flow’rets ope their leaves;
In the evening’s dewy hours,
At the twilight’s dreamy ray,
In the morning’s balmy bowers,
All the long, fair summer’s day.
Play among the wildwood trees,
And the waves of ocean murmur,
And the flow’rets ope their leaves;
In the evening’s dewy hours,
At the twilight’s dreamy ray,
In the morning’s balmy bowers,
All the long, fair summer’s day.
Chorus.
Shall we never hear thy gentle voice at evening?
We’ve been pining for thee, Allie, all the day;
And our sad hearts o’er the lonely seas are gliding,
Seeking vainly where our darling’s footsteps stray.
We’ve been pining for thee, Allie, all the day;
And our sad hearts o’er the lonely seas are gliding,
Seeking vainly where our darling’s footsteps stray.
We have missed thee, ever missed thee,
With thy sweet and tender smile,
And thy bright and glowing beauty—
Nature’s pure and winning guile;
And thy voice’s glorious music
We, alas, do hear no more
In the vale where Allie wandered
In the dear old times of yore.
With thy sweet and tender smile,
And thy bright and glowing beauty—
Nature’s pure and winning guile;
And thy voice’s glorious music
We, alas, do hear no more
In the vale where Allie wandered
In the dear old times of yore.
When the golden sun his splendor
Pours along the summer sea,
And the southern winds are dying,
Allie dear, come back to me.
We are weary and so lonely;
Ah, this life seems but in vain
Since our Allie hath departed—
Dearest one, return again.
Pours along the summer sea,
And the southern winds are dying,
Allie dear, come back to me.
We are weary and so lonely;
Ah, this life seems but in vain
Since our Allie hath departed—
Dearest one, return again.
THE RESCUE.
A Thrilling Incident, and a Gallant Rescue off Leamington, Ontario, in the Winter of 1895.