Poems

vales and woodland burst;
But in all that fair procession

The crocuses were first.

First to weave for Earth a chaplet

To crown her dear old head;
And to beautify the pathway

Where winter still did tread.

And their loved and white haired mother

Smiled sweetly 'neath the touch,
When she knew her faithful children

Were loving her so much.

6 THE PRESENT AGE.

THE PRESENT AGE.

Say not the age is hard and cold--

I think it brave and grand;
When men of diverse sects and creeds

Are clasping hand in hand.

The Parsee from his sacred fires

Beside the Christian kneels;
And clearer light to Islam's eyes

The word of Christ reveals.

The Brahmin from his distant home

Brings thoughts of ancient lore;
The Bhuddist breaking bonds of caste

Divides mankind no more.

The meek-eyed sons of far Cathay

Are welcome round the board;
Not greed, nor malic