Wake up my harp! thy strings begin to rust!

Has the soul fled that once within thee dwelt?

Idle so long, shake off that coat of dust!

Are there no souls to cheer, no hearts to melt?

Are there no victims under tyrants' yoke, Whose wrongs thy stirring music should proclaim?

Or have the fetters of mankind been broke?

Or are there none deserving songs of fame?

Awake! awake! thy slumber has been long!

And let thy chords once more arouse the heart; And teach us in thy most impa.s.sioned song, How in our sphere we best may play our part.

Tell the down-trodden, who with daily toil, Wear out their lives, another's greed to fill; That they have rights and interests in the soil, And they can win them if they have the will.

Tell the high-born that chance of birth ne'er gave To them a right to carve another's fate; Nor yet to make the humbler born a slave, Whose heart with goodness may be doubly great.

Tell the hard-handed poor, yet honest man, That though through roughest ways of life he plod, Nature hath placed upon his birth no ban,-- All men are equal in the sight of G.o.d.

And yet a softer, pitying strain let pour, To soothe the anguish of the troubled soul, And fill the heart bereaved, with hope once more, And from the brow the heavy grief-cloud roll.

Cheer on the brave who struggle in the fight,-- And warn oppression of the gathering storm, And drag the deeds of false ones to the light,-- And herald in the day of true reform.

Nor leave the gentler, loving themes, unsung, Compa.s.sionate the maiden's tender woes, Revive the faint who are with fears unstrung, And solace them who writhe in suffering's throes.

Awake! awake! there's need enough of thee, Nor let again such sloth enchain thy tongue, And may thy constant effort henceforth be, To plant the right, and to uproot the wrong.

Backward Turn, Oh! Recollection.

Backward turn, oh! recollection!

Far, far back to childhoods' days; To those treasures of affection, 'Round which loving memory plays Show to me the loving faces Of my parents, now no more,-- Fill again the vacant places With the images of yore.

Conjure up the home where comfort Seemed to make its cosy nest; Where the stranger's only pa.s.sport, Was the need of food and rest.

Show the schoolhouse where with others, I engaged in mental strife, And the playground, where as brothers Running, jumping, full of life.

Now I see the lovely maiden, That my young heart captive led; Like a sylph, with gold curls laden, And her lips of cherry red.

Now fond voices seem to echo, Tones as when I heard them last; And my heart sighs sadly, Heigh, ho!

For the joys for ever past.

From the past back to the present, Come, ye wandering thoughts again; Memories however pleasant, Will not rid to-day of pain, Now we live, the past is buried,-- We are midway in life's stream; Onward, onward! ever hurried,-- And the futures but a dream.

Alice.

Dear little Alice lay dying;-- I see her as if 'twas to-day, And we stood round her snowy bed, crying, And watching her life ebb away.

'Twas a beautiful day in the spring, The sun shone out warmly and clear; And the wee birds, their love songs to sing Came and perched on the trees that grew near.

In the distance, the glistening sea, Could be heard in a deep solemn tone, As if murmuring in sad sympathy, For our griefs and our hopes that had flown.

The windows, wide open, allowed The soft wind to fan her white cheek, As with uncovered heads, mutely bowed, We stood watching, not daring to speak.

We were only her playmates,--no tie Of relationship drew us that way, We'd been told that dear Alice must die, And she'd begg'd she might see us that day.

We were all full of sorrow, and tears We all shed,--but not one showed surprise; Of her future we harboured no fears, For we knew she was fit for the skies.

Ever gentle and kind as a dove, To each one she knew she had been; She had ruled her dominion by love, And we all paid her homage as Queen.

Her strange beauty, now, as I look back, I can see as I ne'er saw it then; But words to describe it I lack, It could never be told by a pen.

Half asleep, half awake, as she lay, With her golden curls round her pale face; A smile round her lips 'gan to play, And her eyes gazed intently on s.p.a.ce.

With an effort she half raised her head, And looked lovingly round us on all, Then she motioned us nearer the bed; And we silently answered her call.

Then she put out her tiny white hand, The friend nearest her took it in his; And so faintly she whispered "Good-bye,"

As he printed upon it a kiss.

One by one, boy and girl, did the same, And she bade them 'farewell' as they pa.s.sed Calling everyone by their name, 'Till it came to my turn;--I was last,

"Good-bye, Harry," she breathed very low, And her eyes to my soul seemed to speak; And she strove not to let my hand go, Till I stooped down and kissed her pale cheek.

Then she wearily laid down her head, And she closed her blue eyes with a sigh;-- "Don't forget me, dear Harry, when dead, But meet me in Heaven by-and-bye."

And that whisper I never forgot, And her hand's dying clasp I feel still; For I swore, that whatever my lot, I'd be true to that child,--and I will.

It may be a foolish conceit, But it oft is a solace for me, To think, when life's troubles I meet, There's an angel in Heaven cares for me.

Friends deplore my lone bachelor state, Some may pity, and others deride; But they know not for Alice I wait, Who took with her my heart when she died.

Looking Back.

I've been sitting reviewing the past, dear wife, From the time when a toddling child,-- Through my boyish days with their joys and strife,-- Through my youth with its pa.s.sions wild.

Through my manhood, with all its triumph and fret, To the present so tranquil and free; And the years of the past that I most regret, Are the years that I pa.s.sed without thee.

It was best we should meet as we did, dear wife,-- It was best we had trouble to face; For it bound us more closely together through life, And it nerved us for running the race.

We are nearing the end where the goal is set, And we fear not our destiny, And the only years that I now regret, Are the years that I pa.s.sed without thee.

'Twas thy beauty attracted my eye, dear wife, But thy goodness that kept me true; 'Twas thy sympathy soothed me when cares were rife, 'Twas thy smile gave me courage anew.

Thy bloom may be faded by time, but yet, Thou hast still the same beauty to me, And no part of my past do I now regret, Save the years that I pa.s.sed without thee.

We have struggled and suffered our share, dear wife, But our joys have been many and sweet; And our trust in each other has taken from life, The heartaches and pangs others meet.

I still bless the day, long ago, when we met, And my prayer for the future shall be, That when the call comes and thy life's sun has set, I may never be parted from thee.

I Know I Love Thee.