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Page 1 : CANADA AND OTHER POEMS. BY T. F. YOUNG. PREFACE. I introduce the following poetical attempts to the public, with great diffidence. I am not sure but a direct apology would be in better taste, but the strength derived from the purpose I had in view, in writing and publishing them, sustains me without saying anything further by way of excuse. Like Burns, I wished to do something for my country, and chose this method of doing it. The literature of this country is in its infancy. It must not always remain so, or the expectations we have in regard to making it a great nation, will never be fulfilled. Literature gives life to a nation, or rather it is the reflection of a nation's life and thought, in a mirror, which cheers, strengthens and ennobles those who look into it, and study what is there displayed. Literature must grow with our nation, and, when growing, it will aid the latter's progress in no small degree.

Page 5 : The emerald's or diamond's shine, Is valued not for that alone, But for its absence in the mine, Where thousands lie, of common stone. And thus, within the world of thought, The pebble and the lead abound, But real pearls are seldom brought, And gold or silver rarely found. We all have thoughts, we speak them, too, The world is fill'd with words of men, But still is priz'd the precious hue, Of golden thoughts from tongue or pen; And he who digs and brings to light A lovely thought, a pearly gem, 'Twill surely shine with lustre bright, For men, to cheer and better them. * * * * * TEMPTATION. The greatest glory consists, not in never falling, but in getting up every time you fall.--CONFUCIUS. The raging force of passion's storm, Say who can check at will. Or cope with sin, in ev'ry form, With ever conquering skill? How oft we've tried, and hop'd and pray'd To conquer in the right; But still, how oft our hearts, dismay'd, Have fail'd amid the fight.

Page 9 : We see the trees in beauty clad, But still that beauty makes us sad, E'en while we may admire, For death has caus'd that sudden bloom Stern death, the tenant of the tomb, Or funereal pyre. The ruthless, bitter, biting air Hath dried the life which flourish'd there, Throughout the warmer seasons; The nourishment hath ceas'd to flow Through veins, where once it us'd to go-- Hath ceas'd for diff'rent reasons. And soon the leaves will strew the ground, And whirl with rustling ardor round, Or lie in heaps together, Their hues of red, of brown, of gold, Will blacken, as they change to mould By action of the weather. But leaves will grow where once they grew, Will bud, and bloom, and perish too, The same as all the others, As we through youth, and joy, and grief, Must find at last a sure relief, As did our many brothers. Like in the leaf, no life-blood flows, When frosts of death the fountain close, From which it flow'd, to nourish.

Page 13 : Thou fond inmate of maiden's breast, Thou lighter up of manly heart; Thou surely hast some high behest, And we shall surely never part. We'll never part, but oh, thou friend And cheerer of life's dreary way. May reason guide us to the end, And may she ever with thee stay. * * * * * HATE. While love inspires, and friendship warms All hearts, in ev'ry state, High over thee, grim hatred storms, As pitiless as fate. Remorseless, unrelenting, hard, It holds its stubborn way, Which duty's claim cannot retard, Nor righteous thoughts delay. With steady look, it keeps its eye Fixed firmly on its foe; With panting zeal it hurries by, To make its deadly throw. In bosoms white it sits in state, And often, faces fair Conceal the rankling fire of hate, Which looks may not declare. It is not strange to church or state, For oft beneath the gown Of prelate grave, and judge sedate, It sits with hideous frown.

Page 17 : When wooded hill, and grassy plain, With nature's beauties, gaily dress'd, Lay calm beneath the red man's reign, And smiling, in unconscious rest, Then roam'd the forest's dusky son, In nature's wildness, proudly free, From where Missouri's waters run, Far north, to Hudson's icy sea. From Labrador, bleak, lonely, wild, Where seal, 'mid icebergs, sportive play, Far westward wander'd nature's child, And wigwam built, near Georgia's Bay. With bow of elm, or hick'ry strong, And arrow arm'd with flinty head, He drew with practis'd hand the thong, And quick and straight, the shaft it sped. Full many a bounding deer or doe, Lay victims of his hand and eye, And many a shaggy buffalo, In lifeless bulk did lowly lie. The forest did his wants supply, Content he was with nature's scheme; For, fail'd the woods to satisfy, There came response from lake or stream.

Page 21 : For wind, and sea, and thunder's roll, His great command at once obey, And those who trust Him, He will lead Through storm and gloom, to perfect day. * * * * * THE SCHOOL-TAUGHT YOUTH. His step was light, and his looks as bright As the beams of the morning sun, And his boyish dreams, as the rippling streams That gently onward run, Without a shock from rugged rock To check their course of glee, As they wound their way, day after day, To their destin'd goal, the sea. He had come from the schools brimful of rules, His head and note-book cramm'd With varied lore; from many a shore Pack'd solid in, e'en jamm'd. He'd learn'd a part of many an art, Had studied mathematics, And thought he knew how people grew, In palaces or attics. He'd scann'd the page of many a sage, And did his mind adorn With classic sweets, and varied treats, Preserv'd ere he was born.

Page 25 : The maiden stopp'd her graceful steps, And to my words replied, "Oh, life's a lovely dream," she said, With some slight boons denied. "But love, and health, and beauty crowns My lot so filled with cheer, That joy beams forth from ev'rything, To favor'd mortals here. "The birds and flow'rs are fill'd with joy, With joy the birds do sing; The very rain that comes from heav'n, Seems loads of joy to bring. "And when I look to future years, The view seems brighter still, And brighter grow the perfum'd flow'rs, As I go up the hill." "And what is life?" I asked a man, A man of middle years. "This world is truly call'd," he said, "A vale of bitter tears. "I thought this earth a bright, fair spot, But that was long ago; I view it now, with truer sight, And see a world of woe. "With disappointment and regret, And hopes thrown to the ground, I live, but with an aching heart I tread life's weary round.

Page 29 : May nought of sorrow, or of woe, Invade to wound or pain, And may the joys that we have shar'd Be bright in mem'ry's train. TO MISS ---- In tracing here these lines, my friend, Which spring from friendly heart, I here record an earnest wish, For thee, before we part: May health and happiness serene, Long, long with thee abide, May youthful joys no sorrow bring, Nor future woes betide. And when thy youthful beauty leaves, And youthful thoughts thy breast, May thou in calm old age still live, In happiness and rest. TO A LITTLE GIRL. Go, little girl, your course pursue, On life's rough ocean safely glide, May want nor woe e'er visit you, Nor any other ills betide. Improve the shining hours of youth, For soon, alas, they will be gone, Strive hard for learning, zeal and truth, For ev'ry soul must fight alone. TO A FRIEND.

Page 33 : The temple now, which stately stands A lasting monument, shall tell Of lib'ral hearts, and willing hands, Urg'd on by thee to labor well. O father, friend, well see no more! Thy fight is done, and it was long; But thou hast reach'd another shore, And singeth now a blessed song. The snows shall come upon the hills, The valleys, too, with white be spread, The birds shall whistle by the rills, The flowers shall their fragrance shed. The spring shall come to deck the earth, In garb of vernal loveliness; And sorrow shall abound, and mirth Betimes shall cheer our deep distress. The seasons shall perform their rounds, And vegetation bloom and fade, But thou wilt heed nor sights nor sounds, For thou to rest for aye art laid. * * * * * ST. PATRICK'S DAY. The chilly days of March are here, The raw, cold winds are blowing; All nature now, is bleak and drear, But piercing winds and frosts are going.