Janet Hamilton Poems

Welcome! Oh, welcome! in thy course of fame-
Through rolling clouds of smoke and lurid flame,
Belched from a hundred murky piles-at last
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Within a princely chamber sat
A lady, not alone;
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Calling a world to arms-I hear from far
The pealing clangours of the trump of war;
The horizon political flames forth
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Sadly, deeply grieving, wondering,
At the diplomatic blundering,
Powerless to prevent the thundering,
On Denmark's leaguer'd shore,
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Garibaldi! Garibaldi!
Bleeds and burns my heart for thee!
Freedom! union for Italia!
Never can be won by thee.
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Servant of God! through fifty honoured years,
With fears and hopes, with prayerful cries and tears,
With watchful care and ever-active zeal,
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The days o' langsyne, O! the days o' langsyne,
Sweet thochts o' the bygane, I never sall tyne;
Tho' darklin' I sit in my muckle arm chair,
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Silent, grave, subdued, and sober,
Month beloved, my own October!
Resting in thy peaceful arms,
Seeing not, I feel thy charms-
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Not changeful April, with her suns and showers,
Pregnant with buds, whose birth the genial hours
Of teeming May will give to life and light
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This while I've been ettlin' to string a wheen rhymes,
Being unco sair fash'd at the signs o' the times-
The mony dark omens aroun' an' abune,
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