



Produced by Al Haines










SONNETS

AND OTHER VERSE


BY

W. M. MacKERACHER

Author of "Canada, My Land"




TORONTO

WILLIAM BRIGGS

1909




Copyright, Canada, 1909, by

W. M. MacKERACHER.




  CONTENTS.

  The Old and The New
  How Many a Man!
  The Saddest Thought
  The House-Hunter
  On Moving Into a New House
  Literature
  A Library
  On Charles Lamb's Sonnet, "Work."
  Work
  The Joy of Creation
  Adam
  A Shallow Stream
  A Faithful Preacher
  A Wish Rebuked
  The Sabbath
  Milton
  The Three Hundredth Anniversary of Milton's Birth
  Burns
  A Late Spring
  Autumn
  An Autumn Walk
  November
  November Sunshine
  Short Days
  The Beginning of Winter
  The Winter and the Wilderness
  The Immigrants
  Wolfe
  Montcalm
  The Coming of Champlain
  The Montagnais at Tadoussac
  Champlain's First Winter and Spring in Quebec
  Idleness
  Success
  The Exclusion of Asiatics
  The People's Response to Heroism
  An Aristocrat
  In Warehouse and Office
  H.M.S. "Dreadnought"
  The Revolution in Russia
  Tea's Apologia
  A Wish
  Alone with Nature
  The Works of Man and the Works of Nature
  A Day Redeemed
  Outremont
  The New Old Story
  Recreation
  Paestum
  Rondeau: An April Day
  Autumn
  My Two Boys
  My Old Classical Master
  The Gold-Miners of British Columbia
  War-ships in Port
  On Finding a Copy of Burns's Poems in the House of an Ontario Farmer
  The Ideal Preacher
  The Wheel of Misfortune
  Tim O'Gallagher




  SONNETS AND OTHER VERSE.



  THE OLD AND THE NEW.

  Scorn not the Old; 'twas sacred in its day,
    A truth overpowering error with its might,
  A light dispelling darkness with its ray,
    A victory won, an intermediate height,
  Which seers untrammel'd by their creeds of yore,
    Heroes and saints, triumphantly attained
  With hard assail and tribulation sore,
    That we might use the vantage-ground they gain'd.

  Scorn not the Old; but hail and seize the New
    With thrill'd intelligences, hearts that burn,
  And such truth-seeking spirits that it, too,
    May soon be superseded in its turn,
  And men may ever, as the ages roll,
  March onward toward the still receding goal.




  HOW MANY A MAN!

  How many a man of those I see around
    Has cherished fair ideals in his youth,
  And heard the spirit's call, and stood spellbound
    Before the shrine of Beauty or of Truth,
  And lived to see his fair ideals fade,
    And feel a numbness creep upon his soul,
  And sadly know himself no longer swayed
    By rigorous Truth or Beauty's sweet control!

  For some, alas! life's thread is almost spun;
    Few, few and poor, the fibres that remain;
  But yet, while life lasts, something may be done
    To make the heavenly vision not in vain;
  Yet, even yet, some triumph may be won,
    Yea, loss itself be turned to precious gain.




  THE SADDEST THOUGHT.

  Sad is the wane of beauty to the fair,
    Sad is the flux of fortune to the proud,
  Sad is the look dejected lovers wear,
    And sad is worth beneath detraction's cloud.
  Sad is our youth's inexorable end,
    Sad is the bankruptcy of fancy's wealth,
  Sad is the last departure of a friend,
    And sadder than most things is loss of health.

  And yet more sad than these to think upon
    Is this--the saddest