What charm dwells in thine eye of blue, That thus, by its magnetic pow'r, The world to me hath brighter hue, And happier grows each pa.s.sing hour?

With virtuous thought, and pure desire, Thine eyes look forth from lofty soul; Contagious, then, my thoughts aspire To reach, with thee, thy lofty goal.

Thine eyes contemptuously look down On all that's sordid, mean and low; Around thy head is virtue's crown, About the feet is virtue's snow.

THANKSGIVING DAY.

G.o.d of the harvest, once again Our joyful tones we raise, For all Thy goodness, day by day, We give Thee thankful praise.

With blessings rich, from fertile field, And gifts from fruitful tree, We wish, this day, our thanks to yield With earnest hearts, to Thee.

We plough'd the ground, we sow'd the seed, But Thou didst send the rain In grateful show'rs, in time of need, And now we've reap'd the grain.

The sun with grateful heat did shine; The dew did nightly fall; And now, for loaded tree and vine-- We give Thee thanks for all.

The bee, in well-fill'd honey cells, Her sweets for us hath stow'd, The crystal water in the wells, For us from springs hath flow'd.

The lowing herd, the prancing steed Receiv'd we from Thy hand, And we, this day, return our meed Of praise, throughout the land.

Then let us sing with earnest hearts, Tho' joyful be each lay, And thankful ev'ry song that starts On this Thanksgiving Day.

A SUNSET.

"Oh come," said I unto my love, "And let us view the setting sun, And watch the fleeting clouds above, So brightly color'd, ev'ry one."

Thus lightly to my love, I spake, And she responded lightly, too, And by my side her place did take, Her young heart gladden'd by the view.

I walk'd along, she tripp'd beside, Short was the time, until we stood Above the rolling, gla.s.sy tide-- Above old Huron's mighty flood.

"Oh, see," said I, "the glorious sight, Now spread before our favor'd gaze-- The clouds all flame, the sea all light, The sun, one grand, terrific blaze."

E'en such a time, and such a scene Could not love's gentle pow'r dispel.

I saw my love's grave, thoughtful mien, I turn'd and said: "your thoughts pray tell."

"My thoughts! Oh yes, since you request, My thoughts were centr'd all in you, As chang'd my gaze from crest to crest, Across the gla.s.sy ocean's blue;

"And, as I saw the waters shine With polish'd splendor from the sun, Thus gleam'd, I thought, this love of mine, Thus shall it gleam till life is done.

"And, as I saw the bars of gold, And clouds with crimson deeply dy'd, Your love, I thought, was wealth untold, And my heart's blood, your crimson tide."

"And yours," I said, "your love to me Is one great, shining, gla.s.sy flood; Your face, reflected, there I see, So beautiful, so bright and good.

"My nature glows at thy dear name, With deep, red heat, like yonder ball, It shines with constant, ruddy flame; It shines for you, but tinges all.

"But see, the sun has sunk to rest, As if beneath the distant wave, But still the colors in the west, Show that he still shines from his grave.

"And thus, my love, when I shall sink Into the dark and dread Unknown, 'Tis surely just for us to think, Some rays shall shine for thee alone.

"And if it be my fate to stay, While thou shalt calmly sink to rest, 'Tis surely right for me to say, Some light from thee shall cheer my breast."

THE MAPLE TREE.

Where craggy hills round Madoc rise, With scenic grandeur bold, Where frowning rocks, from wooded heights, Look down so stern and cold,

On peaceful vales, and silent lakes, And islets, wild and fair, Where trees, in fadeless beauty clad, Display their verdure there.

Where men, undaunted by the force Of nature's stern array, Determin'd, drive a prosp'rous course, And honorable way.

Here doth the oak rear high its form, The spreading beech beside, And here the hemlock meets the storm, With branches stretching wide.

The pine, with straight and lofty stem, The birch, whose shapen rind Sails o'er the lakes by dusky hands, Or favorable wind.

Such trees as those, are widely known, And many more beside, And may be found from Madoc's hills, To Huron's waters wide.

Right dear they are to st.u.r.dy hearts; To pioneers, their name Lights up the thoughts of other days, With bright and cheerful flame.

But dearer far than all of these, Than all from sea to sea, To Canada's brave sons of toil, Is the stout maple tree.

The maple tree! the maple tree!

Because its leaf so fair, Is emblem of our Canada, And all our hopes are there.

Our country thrives, and so shall we, On this, our native sod, If we respect our maple tree, And worship only G.o.d.

The maple leaf! the maple leaf!

Tho' in the fall it fade, May it but die, to bloom again, And brighten up the glade.

Oh, deeper strike each year thy roots, Young Canada's fair tree, That no rude hand may tear thee up, Thou emblem of the free.

If on thy branch an eagle bold, Or other bird of prey, Shall dare with haughtiness to sit, May it soon fly away.

G.o.dERICH.

Where once the red deer, wolf or bear, Pursued by hardy Indian braves, Lay low, in cunning grove or lair, And listen'd to the rolling waves.

Where once the maple and the beech, In nature's splendor tower'd high, Far, far beyond the white man's reach, Was this lone spot, in years gone by.

The lofty bank, and level plain, With wide-mouth'd maitland stretch'd to view, Look'd out upon the inland main, And back, where virgin forests grew.

No harbor then, nor water-break, Made by the mind and hand of man, But fast into the rolling lake, In nature's course, the river ran.