Work away! For the Leader's eye is on us, Night and day! Wide the trackless prairies round us, Dark and unsunn'd woods surround us, Steep and savage mountains bound us; Far away Smile the soft savannahs green, Rivers sweep and roll between: Bring your axes, woodmen true; Of Heaven's sunny eye looks through O'er the torrents fling your bridges, Widen, smooth the rocky stair- Coming after us, will find Surer, easier footing there; Heart to heart, and hand with hand, From the dawn to dusk o' day, Work away! Scouts upon the mountain's peak— Of the country ye have scann'd, Pray! and Work will be completer; Fear not lest the busy finger Live in Future as in Present; Work away! -Household Words, 1851. SUNSHINE AND SHOWER.. THE heart that is sinking in sorrow Our life is a state of progression, Hard labour's the price we must pay. Then pause not though dark and alarming The sky in the distance may lower; Press on; there be regions more charming, The sunshine comes after the shower. Then list not your woe-begone lover, And heed not your woe-boding friend; The sooner your sorrows are over, The sooner your pleasures will end. When joy thus with sorrow is blended, Oh, why should life's cup ever cloy ; Or why should we wish our woes ended, When Sorrow's the sister of Joy! JAMES BALLANTINE, 1808 THE HERITAGE. THE rich man's son inherits lands, And piles of brick, and stone, and gold, And he inherits soft white hands, And tender flesh that fears the cold, A heritage, it seems to me, One scarce would wish to hold in fee. The rich man's son inherits cares; The bank may break, the factory burn, A breath may burst his bubble shares, And soft white hands could hardly earn A living that would serve his turn : A heritage, it seems to me, One scarce would wish to hold in fee. The rich man's son inherits wants, His stomach craves for dainty fare; With sated heart, he hears the pants Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare, And wearies in his easy chair: A heritage, it seems to me, One scarce would wish to hold in fee. What doth the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; King of two hands, he does his part A king might wish to hold in fee. What doth the poor man's son inherit? A heritage, it seems to me, What doth the poor man's son inherit? To make the outcast bless his door: A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. O rich man's son! there is a toil But only whiten, soft white hands,— This is the best crop from thy lands: A heritage, it seems to be, Worth being rich to hold in fee. O poor man's son! scorn not thy state; There is worse weariness than thine, In merely being rich and great; |