And while broad England gleams with glorious light, And merry peals from every belfry ring;-- One little village lies all dark and still, No fires are lighted there--no battle songs they sing. There in her lonely cot, in widow’s weeds, A mother mourns--the silent tear-drops fall;-- She too had given to swell proud England’s fame, But, ah! she gave the widow’s mite--she gave her all! _Duncan Anderson._ CURZON CXCII THE LOYALISTS O ye, who with your blood and sweat Watered the furrows of this land,-- See where upon a nation’s brow, In honour’s front, ye proudly stand Who for her pride abased your own, And gladly on her altar laid All bounty of the outer world, All memories that your glory made. And to her service bowed your strength, Took labour for your shield and crest; See where upon a nation’s brow, Her diadem ye proudly rest! _Sarah Anne Curzon._ RAND CXCIII THE WHITETHROAT Shy bird of the silver arrows of song, That cleave our Northern air so clear, Thy notes prolong, prolong, I listen, I hear-- ‘I love--dear--Canada, Canada, Canada!’ O plumes of the pointed dusky fir, Screen of a swelling patriot heart, The copse is all astir And echoes thy part!... Now willowy reeds tune their silver flutes As the noise of the day dies down; And silence strings her lutes, The Whitethroat to crown.... O bird of the silver arrows of song, Shy poet of Canada dear, Thy notes prolong, prolong, We listen, we hear-- ‘I--love--dear--Canada, Canada, Canada!’ _Theodore Harding Rand._ CHRISTIE CXCIV WELCOME HOME (_July 23, 1885_) War-worn, sun-scorched, stained with the dust of toil And battle-scarred they come--victorious! Exultingly we greet them--cleave the sky With cheers, and fling our banners to the winds; We raise triumphant songs, and strew their path To do them homage--bid them ‘Welcome Home!’ We laid our country’s honour in their hands And sent them forth undoubting. Said farewell With hearts too proud, too jealous of their fame, To own our pain. To-day glad tears may flow. To-day they come again, and bring their gift-- Of all earth’s gifts most precious--trust redeemed. We stretch our hands, we lift a joyful cry, Words of all words the sweetest--‘Welcome Home!’ O brave true hearts! O steadfast loyal hearts! They come, and lay their trophies at our feet; They show us work accomplished, hardships borne, Courageous deeds, and patience under pain, Their country’s name upheld and glorified, And Peace, dear purchased by their blood and toil. What guerdon have we for such service done? Our thanks, our pride, our praises, and our prayers; Our country’s smile, and her most just rewards; The victor’s laurel laid upon their brows And all the love that speaks in ‘Welcome Home!’