The Project Gutenberg eBook of Canadian Battlefields, and Other Poems
Title: Canadian Battlefields, and Other Poems
Author: J. R. Wilkinson
Release date: November 17, 2016 [eBook #53545]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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Canadian Battlefields
And Other Poems
BY
LIEUT.-COL. J. R. WILKINSON
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY
WILLIAM BRIGGS
TORONTO
1899
Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine, by John Richardson Wilkinson, at the Department of Agriculture.
PREFACE.
In submitting “Canadian Battlefields and Other Poems” to a discerning public, I realize it may be marred by many errors; the harp may not always be in tune—some chords may jar upon the fastidious ear. Rhythm and harmony may not always present that mysterious appeal to the soul that approves, and proves the worth of all. Yet, withal, I feel that some thoughts and emotions of patriotism, love of home, the song of nature, the mystery of creation, and the impenetrable depths of infinitude, may be found and approved.
The subtle voice of nature, the voices of love, home, and country, have ever appealed to me, and impelled me to sing my humble song. And thus, in doubt and uncertainty, I cast it out on the world—the reading, critical public—asking that the pure, white veil of charity may conceal its rough edges and inequalities.
Let smiles, not frowns, his rugged path assail;
Better with blinded eyes his faults to scan
Than let the sin of wrong and scorn prevail.
J. R. WILKINSON.
Leamington, 1899.
CONTENTS.
CANADIAN BATTLEFIELDS
AND OTHER POEMS.
WHAT SHALL I SING?
For song burns my bosom to-day;
And it flows o’er me like a wave o’ the sea,
A dream-wrought, subtle melody.
Shall’t be of the wondrous present,
This scientific, restless age;
Or cull from the field the centuries yield
Rich gems from history’s page?
For which millions of men are slain,
And heroic days with glory ablaze,
Dear freedom and honor to gain?
Shall I sing of the stars of heaven
That forever their orbits keep—
Beautiful, serene stars of heaven,
Gemming the eternal deep?
And its bright isles far away,
With life all free as th’ unbounded sea,
A subtle and golden day?
Shall I tell of the glory of sunset,
And the twilight soft on the lea,
The murmuring winds, through foliage and vines,
And the moon that silvers the sea?
That fade like a dream away?
The spring so fair, and the perfumed air,
And the songsters that trill so gay?
And the summer robed in splendor,
Serene as a spirit dream,
Her throbs and sighs and cerulean skies
Would I make my soul’s bright theme?
And the winds that sob and sigh,
And the leaves of gold, drifting fold on fold,
And the flowers that droop and die;
The birds that trill us a last farewell,
Tenderly, sorrowfully sweet,
Saddening the heart, doomed ever to part,
And life’s work so incomplete?
Sweeping down from icy zones,
And the frozen streams, and the pale, cold gleams,
And its desolate sobs and moans?
Ah! shall it be of home and mother,
And the years that have flown away,
And the loved of old, like a tale that’s told
From childhood’s dear happy day?
Believing of such is heaven?
Their prattle and glee’s a joy unto me,
And care from the heart is driven.
Shall I sing of our lovèd country,
And these bright, fair homes of ours?
So happy and free from sea unto sea,
Guard well thy bulwarks and towers.
Proudly ruling the boundless sea,
Ever unfurled, encircling the world,
Hath glory enough for me!
Shall I sing of man’s joys and sorrows?
Of woman’s undying love?
Of the ransomed that wait at the “pearly gate”
Of the “city of gold” above?
The heroic and the true,
With a quenchless flame and a deathless fame
To brighten the whole world through.
A resurrection and a rising
To a grander, nobler life,
In brighter spheres, where the golden years
Exclude all of storm and strife.
SPEAK NOW.
Might have saved a soul to-day—
And perhaps a heart was broken,
And made hopeless by the way.
If we poor blundering creatures
But in wisdom would speak now,
We should see more smiling features,
And less gloom on many a brow.
And far less of weary pain;
If we ceased our cruel scouting;
We should wider friendship gain.
Many a way-worn wanderer
Would rejoice if he but knew
That absence maketh but fonder;
That our hearts are leal and true.
When we know that danger’s nigh?
Why stand ye in idle scorning
Whilst the heedless ones pass by?
Why not help thy fallen brother
To regain his feet once more?
Do thy duty, let no other
For thy help in vain implore.
That hath slain so many hearts?
Should we listen e’en, or pander
Whilst he hurls his venomed darts?
Why not speak the words of kindness
To those whom we truly love?
Why should we in our dull blindness
Wait the summoning from above?
That life may the better be;
And thus scorning the ignoble,
Live in blameless purity?
Such are fearless when the battle
Rages on a blood-red field;
Fearing not the cannon’s rattle,
They but to grim death will yield.
Fadeless crowns to such be given;
The good in heart, and purified
Shall wear more stars in heaven.
Rest not, nor sleep, be brave of soul,
Seek the lost to soothe and save;
For life is brief, so near the goal,
From our childhood to the grave.
THE BATTLE OF CHATEAUGUAY.
Fought October 26th, 1813. American Force, 3,500; British, 400.