Stand by now, my hearts! heave a line from your
Be cool, boys, be steady! we're well by you now.
Veer away-set the foresail! for shore now we run-
Hurrah, boys! we've saved them-our duty is done.
Life is not all a desert waste,
As those would have us think
Who sorrow's cup too often taste--
Of joys too rarely drink;
For we whose pulses warmly beat
Toward all whose hands we've press'd,
Can make the waste a garden sweet
By succouring the distress'd.
No bound to me of earth and sea
To bid me not to roam;
My nation all mankind shall be,
And every land my home
The dearest place shall be the spot
Where first I drew my breath;
Oh! ne'er be that first home forgot
Till I forget in death!
The sweetest music that I hear
Still seems a village chime,
And where the warmest smiles appear
Is still the warmest clime.
HOPE SHALL WHISPER HAPPY DAYS.
I have said that I would love thee
As long as life remains,
And I will keep my plighted word
Through pleasure and through pains.
If fortune beams upon my path,
The sunshine thou shalt share;
If thine be dimmed by sorrow,
Each grief with thee I'll bear.
Should worldly ills come o'er us,
And fickle friends depart,
Thy smile shall be the rainbow
That rises o'er my heart;
Thy gentle voice shall cheer me,
And bid me grieve no more,
While hope shall whisper happy days,
For both are yet in store.
Though distance now divide us,
The time I know will come
When thou and I shall share, love,
One happy, peaceful home;
Then chase away each sorrow,
And all thy doubts and fears,
And look beyond with firmness
Through life's long vale of years.
Nothing more shall grieve me,
Wherefore should I sigh !—
Sighing can't relieve me.
When the blight is shed
Tears cannot efface it,-
When the bloom hath fled
Weeping can't replace it.
Wherefore feel for those
Who feel not for others ?-
Hearts that will be foes
When they should be brothers.
Those we loved are gone,
Who love us we find not;
Let the world frown on
As it will, we mind not!
THE HEART'S DESIRE FOR HOME.
The river flows through pleasant vales,
Yet longs to reach the sea;
The bird in golden cage confined
Still struggles to be free;
The swallow for the summer waits,
And pines again to roam;
But earth has not a longing like
The heart's desire for home.
The laughing brook the sunshine loves,
The sunshine loves the rose,
The flowers the song of summer birds
To sing them to repose;
The ocean loves the joyous wind
To kiss the billow's foam,
But still there's not a longing like
The heart's desire for home.
Who'll buy my roses ?-they're fresh and they're fair;
They grew 'mid green fields and were fed on fresh air;
They are more lasting than many you'll see,
Who buys my roses must surely love me;
Unlike the roses that fashion bespeaks,
They're nature's alone, though they bloom on my cheeks;
Yet take them not to your gilded saloon-
There nature's roses would perish too soon.
Who'll buy my roses ?-in sunshine and shower
Long have they bloom'd in my own garden bower;
They are more lasting than any you'll see,-
Who buys my roses will surely love me.
Who'll buy my roses?-they're not to be sold
To those who would purchase for jewels or gold,
Nor would I wish from them ever to part,
Yet would I sell-in exchange for a heart;
One that would ever be constant and true,
And ne'er cause a tear-drop their bloom to bedew;
Make me an offer, and if we agree,
Who buys my roses must also take me!
Who'll buy my roses, &c.
GO BREEZE THAT SWEEPS.
Go breeze that sweeps the orange grove,
And breathe a sigh to him I love,
But whose pray do not tell.
Go, limpid river, let him know
Tears with your silver waters flow,
But not from whom they fell.
Go bird that makes the groves so gay,
Still let him hear the tender lay,
But say not it was mine;
Sleep whisper softly in his ear,
The heart that hides his image here,
But do not say 'tis mine.
Forget him! oh, how little they
Who counsel thus can know the feeling
Which graved his image on this heart,
And through its inmost core is stealing.
Forget him! they have never felt
The wild and throbbing pulse which tells
Where Love hath o'erturned reason's throne,
And monarch of the bosom dwells.
Forget him! yes, should madness pluck
Fond memory from this tortur'd brain,
Perchance, in mental darkness lost,
The vision ne'er may come again.
But while, as now, each varied sense
True to its idol, worships on,
This faithful heart shall be its shrine
When every other feeling's gone!
YOU'LL ALWAYS FIND A WELCOME
You'll always find a welcome here,
Though humble be the fare;
"Tis not alone my frugal board
I ask my friend to share-
I would not in my household mirth
That he should take a part,
Unless I felt he held as well
A place within my heart.
Oh! better far than all that wealth
Or pamper'd pride can boast-
The friendly roof, the chimney-nook,
Where we are welcome most;
Such mine, whatever chance or change
The coming years may see,
While faithful friendship links our hearts,
Shall ever be to thee.
Thy hand I'd clasp in mine no more
Were not my words sincere;
Then never pass my friendly door
But find a welcome here.
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