Part 52

But on the moors it dwelleth free, Like a fearless mountain child; With a rosy cheek, a lightsome look, And a spirit strong and wild.

In autumn, all among the swamps And marshes soft and wet, Come troops of poor hill-children The ripened fruit to get.

The bushes all in water grow, In those small pools, that lie In scores among the turfy knolls On mountains broad and high.

And there the peasant children come To pull the Cranberries red, Where bold and booted sporting squires Would scarcely dare to tread.

They only shoot the poor wild birds, And chase the timid hare, For their diversion; they can live In luxury, without care.

But these poor peasant-children’s lot Is full of human wo, And hungry, thinly clad, and cold, They o’er the mountains go;

With feet, that shoes have never known, And legs all blue and bare, And yet, so light are they of heart, You’ll hear them laughing there.

Such laughter makes my very heart Leap up with joy to hear, It tells that even poverty Is not entirely drear.

It telleth--what I ever think, That GOD is good indeed; And that he suiteth, in us all, Our spirit to our need.

Think ye--if these poor peasants were All discontent and sour-- If they in frowns and murmurings Spent every wretched hour:--

Like many a cherished, pampered child, Whom wealth and fondness cloy, Till e’en the knowledge of a want Would be a novel joy:--

Think, if these peasants pined like him For pleasures they have not, How manifold would then have been The sorrows of their lot!

But they, unshod, bareheaded too, Fed sparsely with coarse food, Go laughing on their gleesome way, As GOD’S bright creatures should.

They are like flowers, springing up In some unkindly place, Yet full of all their colours rare, Their sweetness and their grace.

They are bright flowers, that spring to cheer E’en penury’s wilderness, And often with a swelling heart, Those human flowers I bless.

Kind blessings on their bold, clear eyes, And elvish, unbound hair;-- And blessings on their laughter wild, Mid crags and moorlands bare!

In autumn mornings forth they go With baskets to the wold, Some of wicker, some of rush, Some new, and many old.

And over mountain, over glen, The merry creatures bound, On to the wide and boggy heaths, Where a thousand streamlets sound.

The small bare legs all splash about, Heeding not cold nor wet, So long as busy eyes can see, And hands the treasure get.

“And after all this toil and moil, What profit win they thence?”-- Perhaps a long day’s work may bring A few poor sordid pence.

But more than hundreds to the rich Are pennies to the poor, And thankfully they seek and sell The Cranberries on the moor.

Louisa A. Twamley.

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The heart of kindness seldom sours or curdles; The cream of love is in it pure and sweet: With every charm that human nature girdles, And every grace of gentleness replete, The man who has a kindly heart is most In pattern like his LORD; for where the law Of kindness rules the heart, the virtues draw Together in companionship, and post Themselves around that citadel of love. The kindly man doth always kindly prove: He has a word of sweetness for the child-- Of pity for the poor--of sympathy For all who mourn; and truly glad is he When through his generous care some sorrowing face has smiled. There’s music ever in the kindly soul, For every deed of goodness done is like A chord set in the heart, and joy doth strike Upon it oft as memory doth unroll The immortal page whereon good deeds are writ; And Heaven gives nothing sweeter to the mind Than memories of the acts that bless our human kind.

MacKellar.

IVY.... Constancy.

In Greece the altar of Hymen was enwreathed with Ivy, and a branch of it was presented to the new-married couple, as a symbol of the indissoluble knot. It was sacred to Bacchus, who is represented crowned with Ivy leaves, as well as those of the vine. It formed the crown of the Greek and Roman poets; and, in modern times, has been made the poet’s frequent image of constancy. The Ivy is attached to the earth by its own roots, and derives no nourishment from the substances to which it clings. The protector of ruins, it adorns the dilapidated walls which it holds together; it will not accept every kind of support, but its attachment ends only with its life.

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