Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 5.djvu/207

Rh Strangers come in days of leisure, traveling through my lands for pleasure,
 * Climbing up my rugged mountains, to their summits steep and bare;

Gazing far, with eyes admiring, and with voices never tiring,
 * Praising all my pearly fountains and my pure and bracing air.

But my children, loved so dearly, they whose voices rang so clearly
 * Through my woods and o'er my waters and along each mountain side;

They who sported 'mid my flowers, learned love's lessons in my bowers,
 * Bravest sons and fairest daughters, they are scattered far and wide.

Basking in the faded glory of the lands of ancient story,
 * Searching o'er the buried treasures of a long forgotten race,

'Mid the famous or the lowly, find they aught so pure and holy
 * As the simple loves and pleasures clust'ring round their native place?

Find they, on the western prairies, or amid the gold-veined quarries,
 * Warmer hearts or kindlier faces tham they left upon my strand?

Are there ties more true and tender that thus lightly they surrender
 * All the old familiar places hallowed by their household band?

When the Sabbath bells are pealing are no dreams around them stealing—
 * Dreams of Sabbaths, calm and holy, 'mid the scenes their childhood knew.

When the very sky seemed blending with the earnest prayers ascending,
 * While the golden sun went slowly up the tranquil, cloudless blue?

In the crowded streets of strangers, toiling on 'mid cares and dangers.
 * Through the roar of nearer noises and the far off busy hum.

Hear they not my trout-brooks falling and my breezy shade-trees calling,
 * With their loving, luring voices, ever calling, 'Come, O, come'?

Come, O, come, for even gladness wears a look akin to sadness.
 * And a plaintive strain is throbbing through the wild-bird's song of glee.

In the sunlight's golden glimmer, one may trace a farewell shimmer,
 * And too tear-like is the dropping of the dew-drop from the tree.

Come, for others now are straying where your little feet were playing;
 * Many a ruined roof is falling where a bright home used to be;

Tangled weed and brier are creeping where your kindred dead are sleeping;
 * Hear me, day and night I'm calling, come, my children, come to me!"