COMMON SENSE

SHE came among the gathering crowd,
A maiden fair, without pretence,
And when they asked her humble name,
She whispered mildly, "Common Sense."
Her modest garb drew every eye,
Her ample cloak, her shoes of leather;
And, when they sneered, she simply said,
"I dress according to the weather."

They argued long, and reasoned loud,
In dubious Hindoo phrase mysterious,
While she, poor child, could not divine
Why girls so young should be so serious.

They knew the length of Plato's beard,
And how the scholars wrote in Saturn;
She studied authors not so deep,
And took the Bible for her pattern.

And so she said, "Excuse me, friends,
I find all have their proper places,
And Common Sense should stay at home
With cheerful hearts and smiling faces."

INSPIRATION

IF with light head erect I sing,

Though all the Muses lend their force,
From my poor love of anything,

The verse is weak and shallow as its source.

But if with bended neck I

grope

Listening behind me for my wit,

With faith superior to hope,

Now chiefly is my natal hour,

And only now my prime of life;

Of manhood's strength it is the flower, 'T is peace's end, and war's beginning strife.

It comes in summer's broadest noon,
By a gray wall, or some chance place,
Unseasoning time, insulting June,

And vexing day with its presuming face.

Which not my worth nor want hath bought, Which wooed me young, and wooes me old, And to this evening hath me brought.

THE FISHER'S BOY

My life is like a stroll upon the beach,
As near the ocean's edge as I can go;
My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'er-
reach,

Sometimes I stay to let them overflow.

And with a lulling sound
The music floats around,

And drops like balm into the drowsy ear;
Commingling with the hum

Of the Sepoy's distant drum,
And lazy beetle ever droning near.
Sounds these of deepest silence born,
Like night made visible by morn;
So silent that I sometimes start
To hear the throbbings of my heart,
And watch, with shivering sense of pain,
To see thy pale lids lift again.

The lizard, with his mouse-like eyes,
Peeps from the mortise in surprise

At such strange quiet after day's harsh din;
Then boldly ventures out,

We gazed upon the distant scene, And thought how Columb came To kindle here the Gospel's sheen, And preach the Saviour's name:

Came where the rude marauding clan
Enforced him to an isle;

Came but to bless and not to ban,
To make the desert smile.
He made his island church a gem
That sparkled in the night,
Or like that Star of Bethlehem,
That bathes the world with light.

But look! this isle that gems the deep-
One glance may all behold-

This was the shelter of his sheep,

This was Columba's fold.
Bishops were gold in days of yore,
For golden was their good,

But in their pastoral hands they bore
A shepherd's staff of wood.

To watchers, far as Mona's shore,
It seemed a burning pile;
To peasant cots and fishers' skiffs
It brightened lands and seas;
From Solway to Edina's cliffs,

And southward to the Tees.

Nay more! For when, that day of bliss,
I sought Columba's bay,

Came one, as from the wilderness,
A thousand leagues away;

A bishop of Columba's kin,
As primitive as he,

Knelt pilgrim-like, those walls within,
The Saint of Tennessee.

Thrilled as with rapture strange and wild,

I saw him worship there;

And Otey, like a little child,

Outpoured his soul in prayer.

For oh! to him came thoughts, I ween,
Of one who crossed the seas,
And brought from distant Aberdeen
Gifts of the old Culdees.

Great God, how marvellous the flame
A little spark may light!

What here was kindled first- the same
Makes far Atlantis bright:

Not Scotia's clans, nor Umbria's son
Alone that beacon blest,

It shines to-day o'er Oregon,
And glorifies our West.

Columbia from Columba claims

More than great Colon brought,
And long entwined those twins of names
Shall waken grateful thought;

And where the Cross is borne afar
To California's shore,
Columba's memory like a star
Shall brighten evermore.

I rest forever on my way,
Rolling around the happy Sun;
My children love the sunny day,
But noon and night to me are one.

My heart has pulses like their own,
I am their Mother, and my veins,
Though built of the enduring stone,
Thrill as do theirs with godlike pains.

The forests and the mountains high,
The foaming ocean and the springs,
The plains, O pleasant Company,
My voice through all your anthem rings

Ye are so cheerful in your minds,
Content to smile, content to share:
My being in your chorus finds
The echo of the spheral air.

No leaf may fall, no pebble roll,
No drop of water lose the road;
The issues of the general Soul
Are mirrored in its round abode.