ORIGINAL POETRY.

Colonist, Issue 2, 27 October 1857, Page 2

ORIGINAL POETRY.

GOD BLESS OUR RISING YOUTH. Written by a Kelson Mechanic some years ago. Wiry did we leave our friends and home For such a land as this ? Did the land that bear us bid us roam' In search of happiness? Hark ! do I hear the wild winds moan ? Nay, 'tis the voice of truth; They left not for themselves alone, But for the rising youth. In the sweet impulse of our soul We echo baclc reply, No-self o'er ua has had control, Our deeds give such the lie. Why, then, forsake that happy land, ■ That land of fruit and flowers, Where cities teem on every hand, And music fills her bowers—That land, the gems of oceans wide, Incased in the silver wave, Whose soil her kings may tread in pride, Yet dare not own a slave? You must have had a golden dream, Bright gold on every hand would teem, And unwrought plenty smile. 'Tis true we heard hope's gentle tone, Yet, alters that the truth ? We left not for ourselves alone, • Bat for the rising youth. How strange and inconsistently Man speaks ofhome, sweet home; Our home's where'er the heart may be, How ere the feet may roam. Thus amid these wilds so free, We are at home, c'en here, While England would a desert be, Without our youth to cheer. Then bless them, since to them doth cleave Our fondest future hope, For when our present task we'leave, They with that task will cope. And if Nelson's star shall ever beam1 As effulgently as truth Shine ■ o'er the deceptive Wakefteld scheme, God bless the rising youth.