SONG.

THEY say I'm old, because I'm grey,
The agèd bard, they now call me!
But grey or green, I boldly say,

We're not old yet, but mean to be.

Though sixty years and ten may doom
Tired men to rest with worms and me;

With sixty gone, and ten to come,

We're not old yet, but mean to be.

My eyes flash flame, my heart is glad,

When poor men shake their sides with glee; And though they cry, "Come on, Old Lad!" We're not old yet, but mean to be.

While soars the skylark high and higher,
And bids the mountains wake, to see,

How morn can fill my veins with fire,
We're not old yet, but mean to be.

Thou brightening cloud, that sail'st afar

Where screams the falcon, wheeling free!

Tell yonder fading, winking star,

We're not old yet, but mean to be.

OH, TELL US!

COMPANION'D each by all and none,
A mob of souls, yet each alone,
We journey to the dread Unknown.

In nothing found, in all things shown,
In all life living, yet alone,

Where may it be, that dread Unknown?

Oh, who, or what, so dreadly shown,
And world-attended, yet alone,

Is that all-sought, all-known Unknown?

RELIGION.

WHAT is Religion? "Speak the truth in love."
Reject no good. Mend, if thou canst, thy lot.
Doubting, enquire, nor dictate till thou prove.
Enjoy thy own-exceed not, trespass not.
Pity the scorners of life's meanest thing.

If wrong'd, forgive-that Hate may lose his sting.
Think, speak, work, get-bestow, or wisely keep.
So live, that thou may'st smile, and no one weep.

Be bless'd-like birds, that sing because they love; And bless-like rivers, singing to the sun,

Giving and taking blessings, as they run;

Or soft-voiced showers, that cool the answering grove,
When cloudy wings are wide in heav'n display'd,
And blessings brighten o'er the freshen'd sod,
Till earth is like the countenance of God.

This is Religion! saith the bard of trade.

SONNET.

IN these days, every mother's son or daughter Writes verse, which no one reads except the writer, Although, unink'd, the paper would be whiter,

And worth, per ream, a hare, when you have caught her.

Hundreds of unstaunch'd Shelleys daily water

Unanswering dust; a thousand Wordsworths scribble;
And twice a thousand Cornlaw Rhymers dribble
Rhymed prose, unread. Hymners of fraud and
slaughter,

By cant call'd other names, alone find buyers—
Who buy, but read not. "What a loss in paper,"
Groans each immortal of the host of sighers!
"What profanation of the midnight taper
In expirations vile! But I write well,

And wisely print. Why don't my poems sell?"

EPIGRAM.

FREE Trade means work for beef, not bone;

It means that men are brothers;

That

every man should have his own, And nobody another's.

JOHN.

SONNET.

In the sound of that rebellious word
There is brave music. Jack, and Jacobin,
Are vulgar terms; law-link'd to shame and sin,
They have a twang of Jack the Hangman's cord:
Yet John hath merit which can well afford

To be call'd Jack's. By life's strange offs and ons!
Glory hath had great dealings with the Johns,

Since history first awaked where fable snored.

John Cade, John Huss, John Hampden, and John Knox!

Ay, these were names of fellows who had will.

John Wilson's name, far sounded, sounds not ill;

But how unlike John Milton's, or John Locke's !
John Bright, like Locke and Milton, scorns paid

sloth;

And Johnson might have liked to gibbet both.

SONNET.

SOME famous authors trade in mental sleep,
Lulling grown babies with a printed beebee:
Profound the learn'd them call, the vulgar deep:
Though o'er their pages none can laugh or weep,
And dull as coffin'd dust may he or she be,
Their dear no-meaning sells, and that's enough:
If I don't understand Sir Riddles' stuff,
Sir Riddles does-how clever, then, must he be !
At shrines whose mysteries have gods of wood,
The age-long pilgrimage brings crowds to pray;
But in a month, a fortnight, or a day,

Dead drops th' immortal who is understood !
Clear as the crystal pane that fronts the north,
His worth is seen through, therefore nothing worth.

TAKE v. GIVE.

SAID Play to Work, "Our tax on food

Is useful, though I say it."

"To you it may be," Work replied,

"Or why force me to pay

it ?"