Martin Farquhar Tupper Poems

Again, through every county
Of Britain's happy shores
The Great Creator's bounty
Unstinted plenty pours;
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Give thanks, happy Nation! for Mercy rejoices
O'er Judgment to Triumph and fill us with food;
Be glad, O ye People! and lift up your voices
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Dear heart of old England! be glad and rejoice
For blessed abundance on basket and store,-
And raise the thanksgiving with national voice
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O nation, Christian nation,
Lift high the hymn of praise
The God of our Salvation
Is love in all His ways:
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Light as flakes of falling snow
Drop the silent-footed hours;
And the days,- they come and go,
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Life without love! -- Ah, what a wail goes up
From this poor world of manifold distress,--
What thousands drink the dregs of bitterness,
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'A little more sleep, a little more slumber,
A little more folding the hands to sleep,'
For quick-footed dreams, without order or number,
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O the day when Somebody,
Long ago, long ago,
Never asking reasons why,
Simply loved Another so
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Sloth, and the sensual mind hath driven away
All virtues from the world: where'er I range
I note on every side a wicked change;
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'You bid me write the story of my life,
And draw what secrets in my memory dwell
From the dried fountains of her failing well,
...