To my Father, Written on New Year's Day. The New Year, with a gladsome face, A festive time of mirth it brings, "My Father, once again we both have passed The revolutions of another year; But are we fitter than we were the last For that dread summons all mankind must hear? 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, Bring to our minds that each resplendent ray Or when the husbandman we chanced to meet, In Autumn, with his grain-enladen team, Were our hearts rais'd to Him who 'gleans the wheat,' But "burns the chaff with never-dying flame." 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, What tho' thy cover doth display My own wild flights of fancy stray Of things that are and things that were. 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! This day received from higher lips The name that thou must bear ; What though thy hand no sceptre wields, No titled minions round thee wait, An honest name the proudest style Look up my child,-nay, frown not so; Still thou may'st yet as happy be, D Even Princes groan beneath the weight Of anguish and despair, And thou mayest stand amid the great, And wear as proud a front, As his, whose sponsors monarchs stand If but thy heart with lofty scorn And all thy aim be to attain Look up, my son! thy cradle boasts Then ever prize nor dare disdain Thy crest shall be a toil-worn hand, Look up my boy, look up and smile! To reach yon land where all are poor, Nor fear thee Heaven's indignant wrath The wretched beggar and his horde Thou'st brought as much into the world, As he whose name thy sponsors gave thee At the font to-day. |