MY OLDEST FRIEND.

As a man turns him from the close, hot street,
Into the solitary, cool, green lane,

And lingers 'neath the boughs that o'er him meet,
Again, and still again,

I turn to thee, and from my heart I take
Fondly and miserly, and each by each,
The laid-up treasures that our union make,
And tears o'ermaster speech.

Back to the early days my thoughts are winged,
Ere yet the love-deeps had been stirr'd or trial'd,
When with thy love my life seem'd golden-ringed
And then I am a child!

My mother! if I have not grown to be
The realization of the hopes of old-
If the "full tide" have borne me to the sea,
And left my bark enshoaled-

Yet sorrow not e'en if the tide have passed ;
Thou know'st full often in the darkest day
The anxious look is haply heavenward cast,
And the heart taught to pray.

So we may

"learn to labour and to wait "

Until the God-sent breeze upon us come, When, dropping overboard our worldly freight, Lightened we steer for home!

A SONG.

WE are going to be married,
I and one other,

And for this simple reason,

We love one another.

She has no money,

And I am quite poor,

So what will the "world" say?
Oh! what will the "world" say?
The terrible world say?

I can't tell I'm sure.

God's green earth is 'neath us,

God's blue sky above; And work seems not labour

When the hands move by love.

And if He smile on us,

And like streams loosed from winter

Our heart's banks brim o'er.

But what will the "world" say?
The practical world say?
The cold reason world say?

I can't tell I'm sure.

So when we are married,

This dear one" and I,

We think we shall glide down
The stream tranquilly;

And with Heaven's light to guide us
We may reach the " great shore."
Still what will the world say ?
This great fashion world say ?
This "card-leaving" world say?
I don't care I'm sure.

APRIL.

SONG.

COME, with thy dewy showers!
April, I hail thy birth!

Come, and wake up the flowers,

And give drink to the thirsty earth.

Come, with thy changing skies!

Pictures of life are they,

Save that the clouds which dim our path

Pass not so soon away.

Come, with thy smiles and tears!

Soon is thy sadness o'er,

And thy face when thy transient grief is past
Looks brighter than before.

Come, with thy odorous breath!
Over the mountain height;
Banish the wintry blast of death,
And fill us with delight.

Come, with thy voice so sweet!
It ever a gladness yields,
The labourer pauses amid his work
To hear of the fresh green fields.

Thou say'st to the man of toil:
"Glad tidings I bring to cheer,
Let a smile light up thy dusky brow,
The summer will soon be here.

"The summer, with all its joys,

With beauty and pleasure rife

The summer, with warmth, and mirth, and song, With freshness, and light, and life!"

Come, with thy dewy showers!

April, I hail thy birth!

Come, and wake up the flowers,

And give drink to the thirsty earth.

GIVE ME THE MAN.

GIVE me the man whose heart is brave,
Who meets the storms of life as foe
Meets foe, and boldly takes the blow
As rocks receive the angry wave—
Who does not sit with clasped hands
And lowering brow to weep in vain,
But with a soul undaunted stands
"Till fickle Fortune smile again.

Give me the man who loves the poor,
Who 'neath the ragged coat can see
The good that often there may be,
And helps them from his worldly store –
Who does not try to tread them down
If they should dare to raise their eyes
To where on high sits fair Renown,
But lends a hand to help them rise.

Give me the man who has no pride,
Who cares not what his fathers were.
Who crests and coats of arms can spare,
If but to honest men allied—

Who holds a "title" as the stone
He treads on, or the viewless wind-
Who bows to men of brain alone,
The aristocracy of mind!