Home Lyrics: A Book of Poems Part 2

Self-discipline in action, thought and deed, Was his uncompromising, glorious creed; To do to others as he would that they Should do to him, his crystal rule each day.

Dark superst.i.tion never gained his ear, Or led to slavish and debasing fear; A hater of hypocrisy in all The varied forms by which it doth enthrall.

His logical and comprehensive mind, Was marvellously gentle, loving, kind, Which gave him with his patients wonderous power, And served them well in many a trying hour.

A man of penetration, forethought, tact, Loving to solve, elucidate each fact; He firmly held to truth with friend and foe, And ne'er was known to act from greed or show.

A safe and trusted counsellor was he, And helpful, sweet companion as could be, Of such calm, chastened thought, that all he said Was fraught with wisdom, and by justice led.

His sense of duty formed the crucial test By which to rule his actions, work and rest.

And his well-regulated heart and mind Were full of charity towards all mankind.

A zealous public worker in the cause Of sanitation, based on nature's laws; For fifteen years in Birkenhead and Kent, To this great end he his rare knowledge lent.

He loved his work and duties, as some love Their pleasures, and with earnest purpose strove, To prove that each right action surely brought Its blessing, as all evil misery wrought.

Entheal concord, where 'twas possible, And truth and justice made it feasible, The armour his peace-loving spirit wore, The love-crowned banner which aloft he bore.

The beautiful in nature and in art, Charmed and delighted his devoted heart, A gorgeous sunset, and a moonlit sky, Ne'er failed to captivate both mind and eye.

As circlets made by weights flung in the deep, Clear multiplying forms concentric keep, Obedient to the heavenly law sublime, Each circle forming others through all time.

So our beloved one leaves his track behind, Of multiplying circles to his kind, In the rich lessons of his well-spent life, With holy G.o.d-like teachings ever rife.

No storied marble setting forth his praise, A more enduring monument could raise, Than the productive seed which he has sown, Which chants his requiem in undying tone.

A priceless heritage he leaves behind, In the example of his well-trained mind, A blessed Aftermath! G.o.d grant that we May tune our hearts to its sweet melody.

For though the jewel casket be no more Amongst us, as in happier days of yore, The radiance of the gem it held will still Remain our lonely home and hearts to fill.

Let us then try courageously to tread, The footprints where his n.o.ble teachings led, With self-denying zeal right onward go, Striving to vanquish every inward foe.

And thus we'll hope to meet again once more Unitedly with loved ones gone before, In the divine hereafter-home above, Safe in each other's and the Father's love.

IN MEMORIAM.

HENRY LEWIS PROWSE,

_Died at Longueuil August 2nd, 1884_.

AGED 6 YEARS AND 7 MONTHS.

A fair child of promise, just nipped in the bud, To plant on heavenly sh.o.r.e, To bloom and expand in its love-light and peace Not dead, only gone there before!

Just six years he lived in his loved earthly home, His fond parents' joy and delight, Where his bright little spirit shed gladness around, And filled it with radiant light.

His fond little heart with affection o'erflowed, To all his beloved ones at home; Oh, think not these heavenly cords will be riven, In the spiritual land where he's gone!

Grieve not, then, fond parents, your darling is safe, In the happier realms of the blest, There waiting to welcome and join you again, In the time the _Great Father_ finds best.

THE RINK.

The rink, the rink, th' entrancing rink!

Come there to prove the sweet Delicious joys of exercise, In rhythmic glide of feet.

'Tis pleasure pure that all should taste For it makes the spirit gay, In graceful sylph-like movements free, O'er the smooth floor to sway.

It stirs life's pulses to a glad.

Refres.h.i.+ng, genial flow; It paints the cheeks with roses bright, And lovely, healthful glow.

Come, then, and in enjoyment pure, With loved ones at your side, To sweet melodious music's strain, Like fairies graceful glide.

A BINGHAMPTON HOME.

A lovely, happy, peaceful home, Within the fond embrace Of circling mountains and a stream Of calm meandering grace.

The Susquehanna's limpid flow, With the Chunango strove, And at their mild contention formed The lovely sylvan grove.

Nature smiled sweetly all around This homestead glad and bright, Which seemed peculiarly endowed With heaven's blent rainbow light.

So danced its colours through that home, As if they sought to prove Their harmony with the glad hearts That formed this shrine of love.

A tender wife refined and pure, A husband brave and true Ruled o'er this shrine of happiness, And darling children two.