The Joy of Living

A song of the joy of living,
As clear as a bugle play
When the springtide rises highest,
And the winter is far away.

It throbs with the wild, wide freedom
Of the green world out of doors,
And thrills with the lyric gladness
Of the skylark when he soars.

In the forest I've heard espousals
As plainly as spoken words;
For this is the mating season
And the marriage morn of birds.

There's a passion universal
That cannot be thrust aside,
And it moves the deeps of being
As the round moon lifts the tide.

Ever recurring in springtime,
When the heart is hopeful and strong,
So is its meaning translated
Into a jubilant song.

A song of the joy of living-
Ere the winter night shall fall;
O, men and maidens, sing it,
O sing it, lovers all!

The golden glow of autumn-time
Hath faded like an ember,
And on the dreary landscape lies
The first flakes of November;
Chill blows the wind through woods discrowned
Of all their leafy glory,
As thus the seasons in their round
Repeat the endless story!

The earth hath yielded up her fruits
To bless the farmer's labors,
And peace and plenty crown the lives
Of cheery friends and neighbors;
In fertile vales, on prairies broad,
In homes by lake and river,
Ten thousand thousand hearts unite
To bless the Gracious Giver.

Thanksgiving for the harvest full,
The orchard's mellow treasures,
The purple grapes, the golden corn,
And all the joys and pleasures,
And bounties rich and manifold,
That make life worth the living-
For these, alike, the young and old,
Join in a glad thanksgiving.

The kindly pair, whose weight of years
With frosty locks hath crowned them;
Are seated at the festal board
With all their children round them;
The father giveth fervent thanks
In homely phrase and diction,
And stretches forth his aged hands
In holy benediction.

Thus friends, long sundered, reunite,
Recount each joy and pleasure-
The annals of the fading past-
And fill again the measure
Of youth, and healthful joyousness,
As in the glad time olden,
When life was new, and skies were blue,
And all the days were golden.

Thanks to the Pilgrim Fathers, then,
Whose little goodly leaven
Works out through all the buried years
This sweet foretaste of heaven.
And to the Lord, whose bounteous gifts
Make life well worth the living-
Who dwells above, whose name is Love-
Be evermore thanksgiving!

Scotland and the Scots

For the anniversary of the birthday of Robert Burns- Jan. 25, 1894.
I know not in what land thy children, O Scotland,
Remember not proudly the place of their birth;
Brave sons and fair daughters, though over the waters
They wander afar to the ends of the earth!

Thy fame and thy glory, in ballad and story,
Are sung and rehearsed, where a Scottish heart beats;
And that flower, good humor, is still a free bloomer
Whenever, wherever a Scottish clan meets.

And here's a 'clan-meeting!' we tender our greeting;
We welcome you all in the broad-prairied west-
Scotch fathers and mothers, lads, lassies- your brothers
And cousins are we, and we'll give you our best!

Today is Rob's birthday; we'll make it a mirthday
Far into the night when the stars are above;
With voices clear-ringing, his sweetest songs singing-
The bard of 'Auld Scotia,' the poet we love!

Through him, Caledonia, all peoples have known ye-
Through him and the heroes who brighten your fame;
And ever a pressing and lusty 'Scotch blessing'
Shall follow the craven who slanders your name!

O, brave northern nation! you honor each station
In life through your sons, be it humble, or great;
You send us good teachers, sound lawyers and preachers,
And statesmen alive to the weal of the state!

In science and letters, we're greatly your debtors;
In morals, philosophy, learning and art,
Scotch pluck and persistence have bettered existence,
And broadened the pathway, or furnished the chart!

When 'Uncle Sam' wanted a hero undaunted,
On victory's summit his standard to plant,
A Scot of the border, some chieftan, or warder,
Leaped forth in the blood of the valorous Grant!

And aye when the rattle, and tumult of battle
Are heard in the land- with a soul undismayed-
Will Sandy be in it, to stay, and to win it-
In war, or in politics, law, love or trade!