"And surely there will come a day, When common thoughts and aims, Will shed a pure and healthy ray, And show what duty claims.

"Sure Parson E. went o'er the sea, And back he came so smiley, With stick so fine from black-thorn tree, For father John O'Rielly.

"Thus we, as Irishmen, should ne'er Forget our common land, Or claims of breth'ren, ev'rywhere, Upon our heart and hand."

NATURE'S FORCES OURS.

I see the wild and dashing waves Break madly on the sh.o.r.e; With glee I watch their stately course, With joy I hear their roar.

The howling of the wildest storm, The shrieking of the gull Drive quickly all of pain away, And all my fears they lull.

I join my feeble voice with theirs, Triumphant in its yell, For evil powers of earth I scorn, And all the pow'rs of h.e.l.l.

Tho' men and devils both unite, And all their force combine, I feel, ye waves and howling winds, That all your strength is mine.

For He who holds you in His hand, And moulds you to His will, Can whisper to all hostile pow'rs, As to you, "Peace, be still!"

He bends your necks like osiers green, Also the necks of men; Therefore with you I raise my voice, And shout aloud, again.

For you are on my side, ye waves, And you, ye winds, are mine.

If I but cast off worldly cares, If I my will resign.

Then let me feel what I have felt Full oft, in days of yore-- A fearful, joyous pulse of life Thrill through me at your roar.

Let me fling on your crests, ye waves, My loads of heavy woe, And on your wings, ye howling winds, My cares and sorrows throw.

THE READING MAN.

With patient toil, from day to day, The printed page he scann'd, The page of learned book, or sheet With news from foreign land.

And people thought him wond'rous wise, And he himself was vain Of all the knowledge he had stor'd Within his jaded brain.

What other men were working at, He knew from day to day, But never dream'd his barren task Was only idle play.

Fill'd with the thoughts of other minds, His words were barren, dry; He seldom coin'd a thought himself, He had so many by.

And when he found himself alone, Where self could only think, He found the store within his brain, A weight to make him sink.

What he had always thought were ends, He saw were only means, And, for his urgent purpose now, Were worth--a row of beans.

With loud and bitter voice he curs'd Newspapers, books and all, That weaken'd his own manhood's force, And drove him to the wall.

He saw that man must be himself, Or he will live in vain, That nothing in this world can take The place of his own brain.

The man who rides, but never walks, Should surely never pout, If in a race he falls behind, Where horses are rul'd out.

The man who thinks by press or book, No matter how profound, Will find a grave some day, beneath An ink and paper mound.

A VIRTUOUS WOMAN.

Proverbs, Chap. x.x.xi.

A woman pure, oh, who can find?

Her price is dearer far than gold, And greater in her husband's mind, Than shining gems, or pearls untold.

In her he safely puts his trust, And while her life shall last, His welfare she shall surely seek, His honor, holding fast.

With willing hands she works in flax, In wool, and many other things, And, rising early in the morn, Her household's portion duly brings.

She buyeth fields, she planteth vines, And girds herself to duty's round, And far into the shades of night, Her spindle plies with busy sound.

Her open hand, and gen'rous heart, The poor and needy daily bless, And in the cold her household walk, All warmly clad in scarlet dress.

And she herself, in bright array Of gorgeous silk and tapestries, Brings gladness to her husband's face, Who sits in honor 'mid the wise.

In honor and in virtue strong, Her joy shall come in future days; She speaks with gentleness to all; The law of kindness guides her ways.

She governeth her household well, And eateth not of idle bread, Her husband gives the praise she earns, Her children bless her worthy head.

Amid the virtuous and the good, Of womankind she stands alone, Unconscious of her priceless worth-- A queen on her domestic throne.

MAN.

One day I sat me down to write, And thought with might and main, But neither subject fit, nor thoughts, Came to my barren brain.

And then I laid my pen aside, With sad, despairing mind, And, fill'd with self-contemptuous scorn, I thought of human kind.

I saw a trifling, feeble race, With narrow thoughts and aims, Each n.o.ble aspiration crush'd By rigid duty's claims.

Selfish and hard, they toil'd along, And, in the bitter strife, Neglected all that sweeten'd toil, Or that enn.o.bl'd life.

Another day I sat me down; A happy subject came, And pleasant thoughts light up my mind With bright and cheerful flame.

And, as I thought, with heart aglow, Self-satisfied I grew, And guag'd with ampler girt, my mind, And minds of others, too.

With satisfaction now, I view'd Creation's mighty plan; And had a clearer vision too, And juster thoughts of man.

A toiling mortal yet, I saw, But saw no more, a clod, For far as mind o'er matter is, He stood, plac'd by his G.o.d.

For now I saw to man was given The right to rule and reign, And bend all other pow'rs to his, In nature's wild domain.

The light of endless life gleam'd forth From his pain'd body's eye, And tho' in shackles now it liv'd, That light should never die.

The window now, thro' which it look'd, Might clos'd in darkness be, But in a world above, beyond, Eternal light 'twould see.