Poems of James McIntyre Part 22

ODDFELLOWs.h.i.+P LINES READ AT CONCERT, 1883.

We look in vain for our Past Grands, Now scattered over many lands, Now some o'er the wide world do rove, And some have joined Grand Lodge above, But ever since Father Adams' fall We are dependent creatures all, Though man is weak yet he may join With others strength for to combine.

The ill.u.s.tration it is grand, Five Oddfellows in one hand, And yet they all united stand, Each finger hath a different length, Each finger varies in its strength, Each one is weak, but a firm fist, You can scarcely break or twist, 'Tis same with members of a lodge, United them you cannot budge.

Then let us linked with pleasant chain, Friends.h.i.+p, love and truth maintain, And aid our brothers in distress, The widows and the orphans bless, Then let each lodge strive all it can, Both Oxford and Samaritan To aid distressed brother man, Extending influence for good, And universal brotherhood.

ADVICE TO A LITTLE GIRL.

The following lines were written at the request of a little girl, who said she would recite them at a Sunday School entertainment. Prof. J. S.

Blackie of Edinburgh, in a letter acknowledging the receipt of my book, said he considered this piece worthy of being committed to memory in the public schools. Sir Daniel Wilson of Toronto University also approves of them as containing good sentiments and should be impressed on the minds of the young.

Dressing in fas.h.i.+on will be called vain, And they'll call you a dowdy if you are plain, But do what is right, let that be the test, Then proudly hold up your head with the best.

For people will talk.

You will never be wrong if you do what is right, And this course pursue with all of your might, And if you're a child going to school, Or full grown up take this for your rule.

For people will talk.

The best way to do is to let them rave And they'll think more of you if you are brave, For no one will ever think you are rude If you are determined for to be good.

For people will talk.

Little girl on her way to Sunday School cla.s.s, Rude boys sometimes will not let her pa.s.s, But if they see she is not afraid They soon will respect the brave little maid.

For people will talk.

Little girls should learn to knit and to sew, Then if to womanhood they ever grow, Their hose they can knit and make their own dress, And pathway of life for others they bless.

For people will talk.

And their homes they should make tidy and neat, Everything should be so clean and so sweet, This line for ourselves out we will chalk And we are determined in it to walk.

For people will talk.

IN MEMORIAM.

Lines on the death of my only son, who died on the 5th of July, 1876, on the anniversary of his mother's death.

His mother from celestial bower, In the self-same day and hour Of her death or heavenly birth, Gazed again upon the earth, And saw her gentle, loving boy, Once source of fond maternal joy, In anguish on a couch of pain.

She knew that earthly hopes were vain, And beckoned him to realms above To share with her the heavenly love.

PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.

Providential escape of Ruby and Neil McLeod, children of Angus McLeod of this town. Little Neil McKay McLeod, a child of three years of age, was carried under a covered raceway, upwards of one hundred yards, the whole distance being either covered o'er with roadway, buildings or ice.

A wondrous tale we now do trace Of little children fell in race, The youngest of these little dears, The boy's age is but three years.

While coasting o'er the treacherous ice, These precious pearls of great price, The elder Ruby, the daughter, Was rescued from the ice cold water.

But horrid death each one did feel, Had sure befallen little Neil, Consternation all did fill, And they cried shut down the mill.

But still no person they could tell What had the poor child befel, The covered race, so long and dark, Of hopes there scarcely seemed a spark.

Was he held fast as if in vice, Wedged 'mong the timbers and the ice, Or was there for him ample room For to float down the narrow flume.

Had he found there a watery grave, Or borne along on crest of wave, Think of the mother's agony wild, Gazing through dark tunnel for her child.

But soon as Partlo started mill, Through crowd there ran a joyous thrill, When he was quickly borne along, The little hero of our song.

Alas! of life there is no trace, And he is black all over face, Though he then seemed as if in death, Yet quickly they restored his breath.

Think now how mother[H] she adored Her sweet dear child to her restored, And her boundless grat.i.tude Unto the author of all good.

[H] Mrs. Mary McKay McLeod, the author of some fine poems on Scottish and Canadian subjects.

Moral and Reflective.

BRAIN ENGRAVINGS.

Great wonder is the human brain, How it impressions doth retain, Inscribed on it are autographs, And there is also photographs.

And every hill and plain and nook, It is deep graven in this book, A great variety here belongs, s.n.a.t.c.hes of sermons and of songs.

Here you'll find are numerous themes, Both mighty thoughts and foolish dreams, Here love and hope so bright and fair, There hate and doubt and dark despair.

And here is too the bower of bliss, Where youthful lovers first did kiss, Here are memories of childhood And of old ages thoughtful mood.

View well the whole, 'tis a strange sight, Both of suffering and delight, You see the parting with old friend, And where new hearts with yours do blend.

Greatest blessing, hope of heaven, For our comfort it is given, Indented deep in mind of wise Are glories of the heavenly prize.