Susanna Moodie

S
Susanna Moodie
The Dying Hunter to his Dog
Lie down—lie down!—my noble hound,
That joyful bark give o’er;
It wakes the lonely echoes round,
But rouses me no more—
Thy lifted ears, thy swelling chest,
Thy eyes so keenly bright,
No longer kindle in my breast
The thrill of fierce delight;
When following thee on foaming steed
My eager soul outstripped thy speed—

Lie down—lie down—my faithful hound!
And watch this night by me,
For thee again the horn shall sound
By mountain, stream, and tree;
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Fancy and the Poet
Poet—
Enchanting spirit!—at thy votive shrine
I lowly bend a simple wreath to twine;
O Come from the ideal world and fling
Thy airy fingers o’er my rugged string;
Sweep the dark chords of thought and give to earth
The thrilling song that tells thy heavenly birth—

Fancy—
Happiness when from earth she fled
I passed on her heavenward flight—
“Take this crown,” the spirit said
“Of heaven’s own golden light—
To the sons of sorrow the token give,
And bid them follow my steps and live!”—
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My Autograph
What—write my name!
How vain the feeble trust,
To be remembered
When the hand is dust—
Grieve rather that the talents freely given
Were used for earth—not treasured up for Heaven!
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The Sleigh-Bells
’Tis merry to hear, at evening time,
By the blazing hearth the sleigh-bells chime;
To know the bounding steeds bring near
The loved one to our bosoms dear.
Ah, lightly we spring the fire to raise,
Till the rafters glow with the ruddy blaze;
Those merry sleigh-bells, our hearts keep time
Responsive to their fairy chime.
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The Step Mother
Well I recall my Father’s wife,
The day he brought her home.
His children looked for years of strife,
And troubles sure to come—
Ungraciously we welcomed her,
A thing to scorn and blame;
And swore we never would confer
On her, a Mother’s name

I see her yet—a girl in years,
With eyes so blue and mild;
She greeted us with smiles and tears,
How sweetly too she smiled—
She bent to kiss my sullen brow,
With woman’s gentle grace;
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