Should I be spared another year, May one great thought my bosom fill; To let it to mankind appear That I am but a pilgrim here, Just left awhile to do Thy will.

But Lord, thou know'st I am but weak; Impart fresh strength that I may be More and more anxious still to seek The good of souls with spirit meek, And thus prove my sincerity.

And here I would once more record The fervent breathings of my soul, That thou would'st richest Grace afford To all my children through the Word, And still our every act control.

SONG TO THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.

Lily of the valley, this brief poetic sally At the very least is due unto thee.

Thy fragrant wax-like flowers all freshened by Spring showers Seem purity embodied unto me.

_Lily of the valley blooming near the alley_ _Of the little garden close to my home!_

Lily of the valley, I fain would gladly rally All the powers of sweet Fancy to my aid To describe thy form retiring, which I cannot help admiring As it peeps from its broad, leafy shade.

_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, thou very well dost tally With my notion of a modest, gentle maid.

Thy delicate bell-cl.u.s.ter may lack in grandeur's l.u.s.tre, Yet thou in true beauty art arrayed.

_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, Sol scarce with thee dare dally; He plants no rose-blushes on thy cheek, Yet indebted to his power art thou from hour to hour, And his beams play with thee _hide and seek_.

_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, deem not my rhyming folly, For I love both thy form and thy scent; And this is chiefly true as thou kissest in the dew, While thy head in pure modesty is bent.

_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, bloom near my garden alley, And shed forth thy fragrancy around; I'll think as thou art growing of the lessons thou art showing To me when in musing I am found.

_Lily of the valley blooming near the alley Of the little garden close to my home._

DAISY, I HAVE SOUGHT FOR THEE.

Daisy, I have sought for thee In the garden, on the lea, Ever since I learned to roam From my much loved English home.

Once I owned a little thing Called a daisy here about, And it bloomed awhile in Spring, But the Winter froze it out.

'Twas a pigmy flower at best, Though in red robe it was dressed.

English daisy's lively mien Never in its face was seen.

When it died I did not fret, Nor a dirge sung o'er its bier.

Some few plants that I have met Claimed at least from me a tear.

Now what is it that I see?

Daisies growing on a tree!

White and double--white as snow, Hundreds of them in full blow.

Let me look awhile at them, Even through sweet fancy's eyes.

Every flower's a perfect gem.

And as such I will it prize.

But let Fancy stand aside, Common folks might me deride.

Thinking something ailed my brain, Should I such a thing maintain.

Well, 'tis all as one to me, Fancy still shall have the sway.

That _Daisies here grow on a tree_ _I_ mean to insist alway!

[Footnote: The blossoms of the double flowering cherry tree. They bear a great resemblance to the white double daisy of English gardens, and in fact were p.r.o.nounced to be the same by a lady friend of mine. I took the hint and wrote the above.]

THE CHARMS OF JUNE.

INSCRIBED TO MY WIFE.

The lilacs are now in the full flush of beauty, The fruit trees have blossomed, the tulips are gay, And birds' gushing melody points out our duty To G.o.d who doth bless us so vastly each day.

Brilliant verbenas in rich robes are glowing, And spireas their fair silver glories maintain, While violets and lilies their charms are bestowing To add to the splendors of sweet Flora's reign.

O, soon will the odors of bright blushing roses Unite with the woodbines in fragrance complete; For h.o.a.rds of their incense this fine month discloses, To all who are fond of a garden retreat.

Viburnum Opulus its s...o...b..a.l.l.s is forming, The peonies are ready to burst into bloom, Rude Boreas has ceased for awhile his dread storming, And Nature at last has got rid of her gloom.

[Footnote: Guelder Rose.]

In flower-bedecked fields or vast woods at this season I would 'twere my privilege to frequently roam; But fear such indulgence might well be termed treason Against the sweet duties and pleasures of Home.

Then since this solacement by G.o.d is denied me, I'll joy that in fancy it still is my lot To rove with my own lovely Ellen beside me, Through scenes that can never by us be forgot.

TO DR. LAYc.o.c.k, ON HIS LEAVING BRANTFORD ON ACCOUNT Of ILLNESS.

NOVEMBER, 1854.

Doctor, you must not hence depart Ere I address a parting lay Fresh gushing from an honest heart, Which grieves because you cannot stay.

To Rhyme I make but small pretence, Yet what I write is what I feel; And should it prove but common-sense, Many defects this will conceal.

I have oft wished since you came here, That we might years together spend; And now I hang 'twixt hope and fear, In strange uncertainty, my friend.

Right glad, dear Doctor, would I be If you left here in perfect health; I know 'tis prized by you and me As far before the greatest wealth.