]
I passed upon the wings of Steam
Along Tay's valley fair,
The book I read had such a theme
As bids the Soul despair.
A tale of miserable men
Of hearts with doubt distraught,
Wherein a melancholy pen
With helpless problems fought.
Where many a life was brought to dust,
And many a heart laid low,
And many a love was smirched with lust -
I raised mine eyes, and, oh! -
I marked upon a common wall,
These simple words of hope,
That mute appeal to one and all,
Cheer up! Use Sunlight Soap!
Our moral energies have range
Beyond their seeming scope,
How tonic were the words, how strange,
Cheer up! Use Sunlight Soap!
'Behold,' I cried, 'the inner touch
That lifts the Soul through cares!
I loved that Soap-boiler so much
I blessed him unawares!
Perchance he is some vulgar man,
Engrossed in pounds s. d.
But, ah! through Nature's holy plan
He whispered hope to me!
ODE TO GOLF
'Delusive Nymph, farewell!'
How oft we've said or sung,
When balls evasive fell,
Or in the jaws of 'Hell,'
Or salt sea-weeds among,
'Mid shingle and sea-shell!
How oft beside the Burn,
We play the sad 'two more';
How often at the turn,
The heather must we spurn;
How oft we've 'topped and swore,'
In bent and whin and fern!
Yes, when the broken head
Bounds further than the ball,
The heart has inly bled.
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