A Lady with a Lamp shall stand
In the great history of the land,
A noble type of good,

Heroic womanhood.

Nor even shall be wanting here
The palm, the lily, and the spear,
The symbols that of yore

Saint Filomena bore.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

INTERNATIONAL ODE - OUR FATHERS' LAND

God bless our Fathers' Land!
Keep her in heart and hand

One with our own!

From all her foes defend,

Be her brave People's Friend,
On all her realms descend,

Protect her Throne!

Father, with loving care

Guard Thou her kingdom's Heir,

Guide all his ways:

Thine arm his shelter be,

From him by land and sea

Bid storm and danger flee,
Prolong his days!

Lord, let War's tempest cease,
Fold the whole Earth in peace

Under Thy wings!

Make all Thy nations one,
All hearts beneath the sun,
Till Thou shalt reign alone,
Great King of kings!

OLIVER W. HOLMES.

TO THE RIVER CHARLES

River! that in silence windest

Through the meadows, bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea!

Four long years of mingled feeling,
Half in rest, and half in strife,
I have seen thy waters stealing
Onward, like the stream of life.

Thou hast taught me, Silent River!
Many a lesson, deep and long;
Thou hast been a generous giver;
I can give thee but a song.

Oft in sadness and in illness,

I have watched thy current glide,
Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me, like a tide.

And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,
I have felt my heart beat lighter,
And leap onward with thy stream.

Not for this alone I love thee,

Nor because thy waves of blue
From celestial seas above thee

Take their own celestial hue.

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,
And thy waters disappear,

Friends I love have dwelt beside thee,
And have made thy margin dear.

More than this; thy name reminds me
Of three friends, all true and tried;
And that name, like magic, binds me
Closer, closer to thy side.

Friends my soul with joy remembers!
How like quivering flames they start,
When I fan the living embers

On the hearthstone of my heart!

"Tis for this, thou Silent River!
That my spirit leans to thee;
Thou hast been a generous giver,
Take this idle song from me.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

“YOU ARE OLD, FATHER WILLIAM ”

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried; "The few locks which are left you are gray:

You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remembered that youth would fly fast; And abused not my health and my vigor at first, That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pass away;

And yet you lament not the days that are gone:

Now tell me the reason, I

pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remembered that youth could not last;

I thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past."

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

A CANADIAN BOAT SONG

Faintly as tolls the evening chime,

Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!

Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl.
But when the wind blows off the shore

Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.
Blow, breezes, blow! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!

Utawa's tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers,
Oh, grant us cool heavens and favoring airs!
Blow, breezes, blow! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!
THOMAS MOORE.

THE OAK TREE

The oak tree was an acorn once,
And fell upon the earth;
And sun and showers nourished it,
And gave the oak tree birth.

The little sprouting oak tree!

Two leaves it had at first,

Till sun and showers had nourished it,

Then out the branches burst.

The little sapling oak tree!

Its root was a tiny thread,

Till the kindly earth had nourished it,
Then out it freely spread.

On this side and on that side,
It grappled with the ground,
And in the ancient, rifted rock
Its firmest footing found.

Then sing for the oak tree,
The monarch of the wood;