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To my Father,
The New Year, with a gladsome face,
Is smiling o'er the land;
And with her magic wand,
Dy Father, once again we both have passed
Has Spring, that made the budding flow'rets blow, And clad the earth with verdant coat of green, Taught us to think from whence these blessings flow, How comes their verdure, and who gives them sheen?
Did Summer, with its scorching sunny day,
Or when the husbandman we chanced to meet,
And have the falling leaves in Winter's chill,
Warned us that we, too, soon some space must fill In the cold earth, freed from our wordly toil?
If the revolving seasons thus have brought
And may we in the now incipient year
To my Scrap Book.
What, tho' no measured lines are here,
No costly gilding?
With my own building
A Hymn for the Unenfranchised.
INSCRIBED TO MY SON, On the occasion of his being baptized on the same day and by
the same name as
THE PRINCE OF WALES.
Look up, my boy ; look up and smile!
A mighty prince with thee,
The beautiful—the free,
The name that thou must bear ;
And thou art Labour's Heir.
No crown is on thy brow;
No princely style hast thou?
Thine industry a crown ;
On which thy God looks down.
Look up my child,ếnay, frown not so;
Altho' no prelate's arm
Thine after life from harm,
Thy breast as free from care,
Even Princes groan beneath the weight
Of anguish and despair, And thou mayest stand amid the great,
And wear as proud a front,
Around the marble font ;
Despise the mighty's ban,
“The Dignity of Man."
Look up, my son' thy cradle boasts
No rich wov'n tapestry,
In mockery called the free;
That robe thy mother wove ; Thou’rt heir to all thy parents' wealth
Their labour and their love! Then ever prize nor dare disdain
Thy low and humble state; Peace and contentment seldom dwell
Amongst the rich and great. Thy crest shall be a toil-worn hand,
The world thy wide domain ; Thy birth-right high is LIBERTY
A livelihood to gain!
Look up my boy, look up and smile!
Thy destiny may be,
To reach yon land where all are poor,
Untitled, honest, free;
For driving from thy gate,
That there thy bounty wait.
Thy thoughts are all thine own; Thy heart thy country's, next to Heaven,
Thy soul thy God's alone; Thou'st brought as much into the world,
As much may'st take away, As he whose name thy sponsors gave thee
At the font to-day.