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The hinds how blest, who ne'er beguiled,
HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.
Lovely, lasting peace of mind!
THE STAR OF STRENGTH.
The night is come, but not too soon,
THERE'S AYE SOMETHING BETTER BEFORE US.
In the battle o' life when new troubles oppress,
THE HAMLET.
WHOM CALL WE GAY?
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52
54
Whom call we gay? That honour has been long,
56
THE MAIR THAT YE WORK, AYE THE MAIR WILL
YE WIN.
Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on,
59
NOTHING TO DO.
Nothing to do? Oh! away with such blindness,
60
PROCRASTINATION.
Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer,
61
THE PLOUGHSHARE OF OLD ENGLAND.
The sailor boasts his stately ship, the bulwark of the
"TIS INDUSTRY SUPPORTS US ALL.
Nature expects mankind should share,
WHERE IS HE?
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Where is he? Hark! his lonely home,
xii
THE BUILDERS.
All are architects of Fate,
73
THE DARKEST HOUR.
Despair not, Poet, whose warm soul aspires, .
74
BESSY AND HER SPINNIN' WHEEL.
Oh, leeze me on my spinnin' wheel,
78
WORK IS HOLY!
Work while life is given,
79
LIFE.
O Life! I breathe thee in the breeze,
THE FIELD OF THE WORLD.
Sow in the morn thy seed,
WATCH!
Trust not, man! earth's flowers—but keep,
THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS.
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
THE CHOICE.
If Heaven the grateful liberty would give,
MORN, NOON, AND EVE.
In the morning of life, like the morning of day,
ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW.
Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind,
Ye toil'd ones who sigh for the down and the roses,
LOOK UP!
"Look up!" cried the seaman, with nerves like steel,
TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW.
High hopes that burn'd like Stars sublime,
I made a posie, while the day ran by,
HYMN TO CONTENT.
O thou, the nymph with placid eye!
SONNET-TO HOPE.
Where silent woods their dreary shade extend,
THE PRESENT.
Do not crouch to-day, and worship,
THE FISHERMAN'S SONG.
Away-away o'er the feathery crest,
THE RAINY DAY.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary,
HONEST LABOUR BEARS A LOVELY FACE.
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY.
We have faith in old proverbs full surely,
TIMES GO BY TURNS.
The lopped tree in time may grow again,
DISCONTENT.
The mariner whose little bark is toss'd,
HAPPINESS IN MODERATION.
Happy the man whose wishes never roam,
WHAT IS LIFE?
What is the existence of man's life,
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TIME THE COMFORTER.
O Time! who know'st a lenient hand to lay, .
118
Mourn not thy daughter fading!
121
SWEET IS THE PEASANT'S SLEEP!
Sweet is the peasant's sleep!
"BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN."
Oh, deem not they are blest alone,
WORK, HOPE, AND TRUST!
Work, work, my boy, be not afraid,
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THE RIVER.
Infant of the weeping hills,
127
LIFE'S MUTATIONS.
As waves the grass upon the fields to-day,
130
Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief, .
SUCH IS LIFE.
Like to the falling of a star,
THE CROWDED STREET.
136
Let me move slowly through the street,
LABOUR, UNIVERSAL.
Heart of the People! Working Men !
OLD AGE AND DEATH.
142
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er,
ON THE PICTURE OF A "CHILD TIRED AT PLAY."
To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
153
APPEARANCES DECEITFUL.
The world is still deceived with ornament,
154
JOUK AND LET THE JAW GAE BY.
Oh! say not life is ever drear,
IMPROVEMENT OF TIME.
He mourns the dead, who lives as they desire,
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THE GOOD OLD PLOUGH.
Let them sing who may of the battle fray,
DAILY BREAD.
O King of earth, and air, and sea!
NEVER YIELD!
Forward press, though trials thicken,
ALL THINGS PREACH OF DEATH.
All things around us preach of Death! yet Mirth,
THE TWILIGHT OF THE HEART.
There is an evening twilight of the heart,
HUMAN LIFE.
164
The lark has sung his carol in the sky,
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THINKER AND DOER.
One sits at home, with pale impassive brow,
THE WORLD'S UNCERTAINTY.
The day was dark and stormy; but the night,
LIFE'S SUNSET.
Storm had been on the hills. The day had worn,
TO-MORROW!
To-morrow! Mortal, boast not thou,
THE BRIDGE.
I stood on the bridge at midnight,
WHEEL SONG.
Just as we spin, of old 'tis said,
CLEAR THE WAY.
Men of thought! be up, and stirring,
AND WHAT'S A LIFE?
And what's a life?—a weary pilgrimage,
"WHY STAND YE HERE ALL THE DAY IDLE?"
The God of Glory walks His round,
HOPE AND TRUST.
Oh! sigh not-weep not, if some day,
THE PLOUGHMAN.
Clear the brown path to meet his coulter's gleam!