Part 4

O! lovely ladies, you who wait For tardy husbands homing late; I crave you, by your fair renown, Forgive all these who here sit down.

So ends the feast, and if I heard The twitter of the morning bird, What matter, we have known good cheer-- Good-bye, old friends, until next year.

BALLAD OF THE BUDGET

YEAR 1909

'Ees a-going down to London town, my lord as lives on the 'ill, And 'e leaves to-day, the folks do say, to vote 'gainst the Budget Bill. It be now a score of years or more since 'es left 'is 'igh-walled seat, But 'es going away, for 'ells to pay and the Welshman must be beat.

It do seem queer 'is leavin' 'ere, and I'm doctorin' for the gout, For 'tween countin' rents and pounds and pence 'es never gone much about. It's the Welshman's scheme that spoiled his dream, it's something about the land, So 'es off, my lord, to protect his 'oard from the bloomin' hupstart's 'and.

They be askin' gold for the fleet, I'm told, and they only ask what's fair, But 'im up there with 'is lordly air and wantin' to pay 'is share. Well, I don't think much about law and such, but this I 'as to say, If the people's right, and it comes to a fight, 'is lordship will 'ave to pay.

Lor' bless the fleet, she's 'ard to beat, and she allus has been our pride, An' I'd shout for joy like a Devon boy, if I could but see her ride Out o'er the sea as she used to be, the queen of the worldwide main, With her cheerin' tars, and her bristlin' spars, and honour without a stain.

It's twenty years since the 'Ouse of Peers 'as seen 'im, and is it right That the people's will 'is kind can kill, and do it all in a night? 'E ain't been stirred like this, we 'eard, since the days of Gladstone's bill, But I'll bet my forge 'im they calls George will win, and I 'opes 'e will.

"THE PIPE"

Because you love the fragrant weed, good friend, This honest pipe in fellowship we send; A true companion that has blessed mankind, 'Twill solace bring of peace to heart and mind.

'Tis hewed from wood of purest briar strain, 'Tis earthborn, nursed by sunshine, wind, and rain; 'Tis forest bred, a child of solitude, And thus to lonely hearts 'tis drink and food.

Fill it, and to your mind it will conjure Visions of joy to be that long endure. Fill it, it asks no more than it can hold, And 'twill repay your faith a thousandfold.

Light it, and when it feels the flaming kiss 'Twill throb and glow, returning bliss for bliss; Light it, and it will answer to your touch, No sweetheart's kiss will ere repay so much.

Smoke it, and as the azure wreaths arise, 'Twill soothe as sweet as sweetest lullabys. Smoke it, and it will bring a strange delight, A constant joy by daytime or by night.

Smoke it, it asks you but attention's wage, And, like good wine, 'twill sweeten with old age; Friends may turn foes and fortune fair may frown, But pipes are friends that seldom turn us down.

Thus unto you this simple gift we make, Accept it, and likewise our friendship take; And when it weaves its aromatic spell, May it recall those friends who love you well.

THE MIRACLE OF MAY

The sunlight beams, The lily leans Her sweet pale cheek to meet the breeze, The garden glows, The soft breeze blows And shakes the blossoms on the trees.

The lilacs bloom, The rivers croon To willows bending for their kiss, And scented flowers Laugh in the showers That tell of summer's coming bliss.

Again aglow The roses blow, Like rubies in the dewy morn; The world, long bare, Lets loose her hair, And million-gemmed is beauty born.

O, wondrous change, To mortals strange! But yesterday 'twas cold and drear; Some magic hand Hath touched the land, And, lo, the happy spring is here!

O, Master, we Give praise to Thee; Thou answerest kindly when we pray, And thus is wrought The boon we sought-- The wondrous miracle of May.

IN SUMMER

In summer, when the rising sun with keen and flashing ray, Flings arrows at retreating night, and ushers in the day, When out from every nook and glade the frightened shadows creep, And scamper off to caverns dark, when life awakes from sleep. The gentle sunbeams, kiss the dewy teardrops of the night From off the eyelids of the flowers, with whisp'ring soft and light,

Then stirs my heart, with yearnings sweet Is thrilled as from above, Then would I worship at the feet Of you, of you, my love.

In summer, when the fragrant earth basks in the shimmering glare Of noontide warmth, and drowsy hum of insects fills the air, When bashful flowers their glories hide amid the grasses tall, And nature her siesta takes in hushed and langorous thrall, When sparkling streamlets through the dells and o'er the mosses croon, And birds and breezes fold their wings within the arms of June,

Then stirs my heart, with yearnings sweet Is thrilled as from above, Then would I slumber, rest, and dream With you, with you, my love.

In summer, when the last faint rays from western sky has fled, When earth wraps round her evening's cloak and day has gone to bed, When moonlight glinting through the trees fantastic patterns trace, And starry lamps illuminate the corridors of space, When shining morn and burning day within the night's cool arms, Rest from the pageant of the day, forgetful of their charms,

Then stirs my heart, with yearnings sweet Is thrilled as from above, Then for eternity I pray, With you, with you, my love.

LOVE'S MIRACLE

She stood in maiden loveliness serene, Of fawn-like grace, and beauty rare of face, Fair prey I deemed, for I had but to lean To kiss her or to hold in my embrace.

And yet I paused, I hardly knew the why, I said she, as the others, is fair game; No guardian stood above her but the sky, And yet I paused, the beast within me tame.

Her pure eyes fronted mine so unafraid, And in their depths dwelt such a wondrous charm, It seemed to wrap a glory round the maid, That banished evil and the power to harm.

And somehow there the evil in me died, As in a dream afraid I seemed to stand, I am unworthy, all my being cried, And yet she smiled, nor could I understand.

Days passed, once more beneath the sky, As one enchanted, I beside her walked, Drinking the freshness of her spirit high, In a new world that blossomed as she talked.

"How beautiful the bird's song is!" she said, And, lo, the singing came surpassing sweet, "See how the flowers bloom all rosy red!" I looked, and saw them springing at our feet.

The breezes soft their peaceful preludes played Along the glistening harp-strings of the grass, I bowed my head as penitent that prayed, The miracle of love had come to pass.

THE SQUAW-MAN

Love from his homeland hillsides led him forth, A willing captive, to a foreign land, Nor looked he either east or west or north, But followed where she led him by the hand.

How strong he was in all that men hold good, How fair to view in manly grace and form! Yet as a child, against her maidenhood, The castle of his heart she took by storm.

O lady, golden-haired and blue of eye, Fair English beauty with the cheeks of rose, Dost thou afar in moonlit gardens sigh, And dream of him as evening shadows close?

Dost thou oft weep with troubled heart and brain, Between each letter's ever-length'ning wait? Ah, weep no more; he will not come again-- No more will he unlatch thy garden gate.

For eyes of night have pierced him to the core, A forest maiden sings his child to rest. He has forgotten, and will come no more-- Another head he pillows on his breast.

E'en now, perhaps, to some sweet forest song, With rhythmic stroke he paddles her along O'er some smooth lake that mirrors cloudless skies, Deep as the love that dwells in her dark eyes.

Perchance ere now, in some green forest glade, A home for her he's built, a cabin made, Where sunshine greets them with its morning kiss, And wakes them to a new day's perfect bliss.

'Tis o'er, thy dream; his ways and thine divide, The sterile plains of memory grow more wide; Love claims its own, and thou must pay the cost-- A dark-orbed maid has won what thou hast lost.

O Love, that blossoms on the desert sands As sweet as in the richly gilded room, That knows no age and blesses in all lands, And strews upon the world its lovely bloom,

Where spring the fountains of thy mystic brew That thrills alike the peasant maid and queen, That flowers hearts with drops of wondrous dew On gale-swept shores, as where the roses dream?

HEART'S DESIRE

Give me the breath of dewy morns, The stirring chase, the hunter's horns, The scent of roses 'mid the thorns In all their beauty dreaming.

Give me the shining fields so sweet, Where sun and shadow love to meet; The sickles swinging through the wheat, While golden sunlight's streaming.

Give me the flower-jewelled hills-- A love-song that with rapture thrills, That lifts the heart above earth's ills, And gives to life new meaning.

Give me the hush of quiet eves, The sleepy note amid the leaves, God's calm, sweet slumber that relieves, While starry lamps are gleaming.

Give me a woman sweet and true To have and hold life's journey through, And love like sunshine ever new In bright eyes softly beaming.

Give these, the world may have the rest; The heart's content the heart that's blest; Ah, gold is bright, but these are best! I'll ask no more, I'm deeming.

THE AWAKENING

Think not 'tis death because so cold earth lies, Wrapped in her snowy shroud of billowed white, For when the tears of springtime kiss her brow Her violet eyes will open wide and sweet, And unseen hands will robe her wondrously, Weaving with garlands all her tresses fair. Again her cheek with blushing rose will glow, And sighs sweet-scented will her bosom stir, And radiant in her sunny maidenhood, With ripples of sweet laughter she will roam, Scattering auroral gifts of flow'ry bloom, Till all mankind shall worship at her feet.

EYES OF THE HEART

I haunt again those unforgotten ways Where once we walked in dear remembered days; And throbbing earth, the streams and skies so blue, Call with my heart in longing, dear, for you.

I see thee sad with every wind that grieves, Behold thy cheeks in autumn's blushing leaves; Thy laugh I hear when come the rippling rills, Sparkling and gay adown the grassy hills.

Ah, it is love that sees alone thy form In every rose that doth the vale adorn! Ah, it is love when all the summer sky Seems but reflected beauty from thine eye!

I hear thy voice in cadences so sweet, When birds that love in woody places meet; Thy loving smile I see revealed again In every sunburst following the rain.

When o'er the land soft steals the breath of June, And happy birds within the treetops tune, Then hand-in-hand again to love's sweet lays I walk with thee as in the olden days.

The strands of gold, the sun-god's gleaming hair, Is as the light within thy tresses rare; The white-sailed moon-ship gliding on the night Has gleaned her beauty from thy forehead white.

But food of dreams love cannot satisfy, Nor mem'ries feed the starving heart; thus I, Love-lorn, with weary wings toward heaven soar, Beating for entrance 'gainst God's golden door.

Longing for thee, earth's ways in dreams I tread, By thy white hand along its pathways led. Counting the hours till on celestial strands I'll kiss again thy lips, thine eyes, thy hands.

CUPID'S ARROW

Say, have you met her? I can't forget her, Fair as the lily, her name; She with the eyes blue, Of summer sides' hue, With her the world I would gain.

'Twas on a May day-- Oh, such a gay day! Sweet singing birds filled the trees; Fair Spring went laughing To the gay chaffing Of her wayward love, the breeze.

I, too, was merry, Heart light and airy, Knew not I'd lose it that day; Cupid was stirring, His arrow whirring, And my poor heart in the way.

She smiled so naively, Glanced I so bravely, Unthinking quite of the cost; On that spring morning, Done without warning, I and my poor heart were lost.

'Twas a sweet losing; Had I the choosing, Gladly again she might take; All I love dearest, All I hold nearest, Little would be for her sake.

Yet is the gladness Mingled with sadness. Did she but smile to betray? Loving, I'm hoping, In darkness groping, Waiting her love to bring day.

MY APRIL MAIDEN

Maid of moods like April ranging; Tearful, then to laughter changing: Luring sweetly, then estranging; I have wondered if thou art

Just a playful nymph coquetting With poor mortals, and forgetting How thou woundest, nor regretting That thou didst their wounds impart.

By thy body shapely, slender, By thy glances languid, tender, Thou hast made me thy defender, Thou hast nestled in my heart.

By thy cheeks as rose-leaves tinted, By thy hair from sunbeams minted, Thou hast taken love unstinted, Robbed me quite without return.

Each new mood but makes thee dearer, Makes my passion stronger, clearer, Makes me long to come the nearer, Makes me love thee more and more.

When I see thine eyes compelling, Dark with passion and rebelling To thy bosom's quickened swelling, Then I would thy love implore.

Or when from thy window glancing, Bright they shine with laughter dancing, They but make thee more entrancing, If that could be, than before.

O thou April maiden, weaving Spells alluring and deceiving, Wilt thou some day me be leaving? Wilt thou yet my true love spurn!

I have loved thee fondly, madly, I would win thee, wed thee gladly, In thy snare I'm tangled sadly, 'Tis thy love must set me free.

I have loved thee unabated From a time now long undated; In a desert land I've waited, Thou must my oasis be.

Give me love, for time is pressing, Doubt's red sands grow hot, distressing; Send thy love's rain, sweet caressing; There is none can save but thee.

Dear, the sands are round me burning, Thus to thee, sweetheart, I'm turning; For thy saving love I'm yearning, Say thou lov'st me, or I burn.

THE CALL OF THE OPEN

I turn my face from the city, the City of Siren Songs, I am going back to the prairie to where my heart belongs; Her smile is true and gentle, there is peace in her ample breast, And I know there's a welcome waiting with my love of the golden West.

It is years since I watched the shadows across her bosom roll, Ere the luring voice of the city my boyish senses stole; It is long since with swelling bosom I watched the sunbeams glide Or the waving, far-flung reaches of her hills and valleys wide.

I am done with the sham and glitter where the huddled millions toil, Lured with the money mirage, 'mid the din and the mad turmoil; I am sick of the man-made temples that gloss the reeking sod, So I take my course to the open, to the glorious temples of God.

I hear the voice of the mountains, they are singing the oldtime strains, The lure of the land is o'er me, the lure of the virgin plains; The voice of rivers murmur, "Come back to your boyhood home", So I turn my face from the city, I am going back to my own.

THE LOVING CUP

PRESENTED TO MY FATHER, ON THE OCCASION OF THE CELEBRATION OF HIS EIGHTIETH CHRISTMAS, 1914

Born of the noblest impulse of the heart, Love comes with joy to worship at a shrine, Seeking the dear one, yearning to impart A benediction drawn from wells divine.

So with a heartfelt tribute to your worth, We gather round you in your life's decline, To honour you, the author of our birth, And ask a blessing on our lives and thine.

Rich is your life with honest effort filled, And though your path with trials was beset, You bravely fought and counselled and instilled The noblest, and our hearts do not forget.

It is not wealth that marks life's crowning goal, Nor power and place, nor tawdry pomp and fame; But worth and true nobility of soul, The white-robed years, the fair, untarnished name.

This is your priceless heritage, we hold, May we bequeath it thus from sire to son, Down generations, while the years unfold; This is your children's wish, their prayer, each one,

And from this loving cup may ever flow The vintage of our hearts, a glowing stream, Winding beside you, singing soft and low Of tender memories, with love adream.

We pledge you in its bowl with gladsome song, And toast the happiness of days to be. May life be joyous, and your years be long, And every hour from care and ills be free.

T. H. BEST PRINTING CO. LIMITED, TORONTO