A MERRY PARTING     

      With half a moon, and cloudlets pink, And water-lilies just in bud, With iris on the river brink, And white weed garlands on the mud, And roses thin and pale as dreams, And happy cygnets born in May, No wonder if our country seems Drest out for Freedom's natal day. We keep the day; but who can brood On memories of unkingly John, Or of the leek His Highness chewed, Or of the stone he wrote upon? To Freedom born so long ago, We do devoir in very deed, If heedless as the clouds we row With fruit and wine to Runnymede. Ah! life is short, and learning long; We're midway through our mirthful June, And feel about for words of song To help us through some dear old tune. We firmly, fondly seize the joy, As tight as fingers press the oar, With love and laughter girl and boy Hold the sweet days, and make them more. And when our northern stars have set For ever on the maid we lose, Beneath our feet she'll not forget How speed the hours with Eton crews. Then round the world, good river, run, And though with you no boat may glide, Kind river, bear some drift of fun And friendship to the exile bride.       June 15th, 1861. 

  

       SCHOOL FENCIBLES     

      We come in arms, we stand ten score, Embattled on the castle green; We grasp our firelocks tight, for war Is threatening, and we see our Queen. And "will the churls last out till we Have duly hardened bones and thews For scouring leagues of swamp and sea Of braggart mobs and corsair crews? We ask; we fear not scoff or smile At meek attire of blue and grey, For the proud wrath that thrills our isle Gives faith and force to this array.       So great a charm is England's right, That hearts enlarged together flow, And each man rises up a knight To work the evil-thinkers woe. And, girt with ancient truth and grace, We do our service and our suit, And each can be, what'er his race, A Chandos or a Montacute. Thou, Mistress, whom we serve to-day, Bless the real swords that we shall wield, Repeat the call we now obey In sunset lands, on some fair field. Thy flag shall make some Huron Rock As dear to us as Windsor's keep, And arms thy Thames hath nerved shall mock The surgings of th' Ontarian deep. The stately music of thy Guards, Which times our 

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