Oft has it lured me to deeds I detest,-- Filled me with pa.s.sions debased; Robbed me of all that was dearest and best, And left scars that can ne'er be effaced.

Oh! that the generous rich would but think, As they scatter their wealth far and wide, Of the evil that lives in the ocean of drink, Of the thousands that sink in its tide.

They give of their substance to help the poor wretch, The victim of custom and laws; But never attempt the strong arm to outstretch, To try to abolish the cause.

The preacher as well may his eloquence spare, Nor his tales of "glad tidings" need tell, If by precepts he urge them for heaven to prepare, Whilst his practice leads downward to h.e.l.l.

Erect new asylums and hospitals raise,-- Build prisons for creatures of sin;-- Can these be a means to improve the world's ways?

Or one soul from destruction e'er win?

No!--License the cause and encourage the sale Of the evil one's strongest ally, And in vain then lament that the curse should prevail,-- And in vain o'er the fallen ones sigh.

Strike the black blot from the laws of the land!

And take the temptation away; Then give to the struggling and weak one's a hand, To pilot them on the safe way.

Can brewers, distillers, or traffickers pray For the blessing of G.o.d, on the seed Which they sow for the harvest of men gone astray?

Of ruin, the fruit of their greed?

No bonds can be forged the drink-demon to bind, That will hinder its power for ill; For a way to work mischief it surely will find, Let us watch and contrive as we will.

Then drive out the monster! The plague-breathing pest; And so long as our bodies have breath, Let us fight the good fight, never stopping for rest, Till at last we rejoice o'er its death.

Little Sunshine.

Winsome, wee and witty, Like a little fay, Carolling her ditty All the livelong day, Saucy as a sparrow In the summer glade, Flitting o'er the meadow Came the little maid.

A youth big and burly, Loitered near the stile, He had risen early, Just to win her smile.

And she came towards him Trying to look grave, But she couldn't do it, Not her life to save.

For the fun within her, Well'd out from her eyes, And the tell-tale blushes To her brow would rise.

Then he gave her greeting, And with bashful bow, Said in tones entreating, "Darling tell me now, You are all the sunshine, This world holds for me; Be my little valentine, I have come for thee."

But she only t.i.ttered When he told his love, And the gay birds twittered On the boughs above; He continued pleading, Calling her his sun-- Said his heart was bleeding,-- Which seemed famous fun.

Then he turned to leave her.

But she caught his hand, And its gentle pressure Made him understand, That in spite of teasing, He her heart had won, And through life hereafter, She would be his sun.

Now they have been married Twenty years or more, But she's just as wilful As she was before.

And she's just as winsome In his eyes to-day, As when first be met her, Mischievous and gay.

Will the years ne'er tame her?

Will she ne'er grow old?

Does the grave man blame her?

Does he never scold?

Does he never weary Of her ready tongue?

Does he love her dearly As when he was young?

Yes--she was the sunshine Of his youthful day, And her light laugh cheers him Now he's growing gray.

Happy little woman, That time cannot tame; Happy sober husband, Loving still the same.

Happy in her lightness When life's morn was bright, Happy in her brightness As draws on the night.

Pa.s.sing Events.

Pa.s.sing events,--tell, what are they I pray?

Are they some novelty?--Nay, nay, nay!

Ever since the world its course began, Since the breath of life was breathed into man, Still rolling on with the wane of time, Through every nation, in every clime; In every spot where man has his home, Ever they long for events to come.

Hours or days or years it may be, Before hopes realization they see; And no sooner it comes than it hastes away, And others rush after no longer to stay.

And there scarcely is time to know its in sight, E'er its found to be leaving with marvellous flight, And what had been longed for with eager intent, Is chronicled but as a pa.s.sing event.

Hope's joys are uncertain;--anxiety rules, Expectancy's paradise, peopled by fools; And the present has oft so much bustle and care, That the joys spread around we have no time to share.

He is surer of peace who leaves future to fate, And the present joy s.n.a.t.c.hes before it's too late; But he's safest by far, who in mem'ry holds fast, The sweet tastes and joys of events that are past.

Those Days have Gone.

Those days have gone, those happy days, When we two loved to roam, Beside the rivulet that strays, Near by my rustic home.

Yes, they have fled, and in the past, We've left them far behind, Yet dear I hold, those days of old, When you were true and kind.

You dreamed not then of wealth or fame, The world was bright and fair, I seldom knew a grief or game, That you, too, did not share.

And though I mourn my hapless fate, In mem'ry's store I find, And dearly hold those days of old, When you were true and kind.

Say, can the wealth you now possess, Such happiness procure, As did our youthful pleasures bless, When both our hearts were pure?

No,--and though wandering apart, I strive to be resigned; And dearer hold those days of old, When you were true and kind.

And if your thoughts should turn to me, With one pang of regret, Know that this heart, still beats for thee, And never will forget; Those tender links of long ago Are round my heart entwined, And dear I hold those days of old, When you were true and kind.

I'd a Dream.

I'd a dream last night of my boyhood's days, And the scenes where my youth was spent; And I roamed the old woods where the squirrel plays, Full of frolicsome merriment.

And I walked by the brook, and its silvery tone, Seemed to soothe me again as of yore; And I stood by the cottage with moss overgrown And the woodbine that trailed round the door.

No change could I see in the garden plot, The flowers bloomed brightly around, And one little bed of forget-me-not In its own little corner I found.

The sky had a home-look, the breeze seemed to sigh, In the strain I remembered so well, And the little brown sparrows looked cunning and shy, As though anxious some story to tell.

But as quietness reigned and a loneliness fell, O'er the place that had once been so gay; Its sunlight had saddened since I bade farewell, And left it for lands far away.

The door stood ajar and I sought for a face, Of the dear ones I longed so to see; But others I knew not were now in the place, And their presence was painful to me.

A pang of remorse seemed to shoot through my heart, As I left with a sorrowing tread, From all the familiar objects to part; For I knew that the loved ones were dead.

The home once my own, now knows me no more, The treasures that bound me all gone, And I woke with cheeks tear-stained, and heart sadly sore, To find that a home I had none.

To my Harp.