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POEMSBLEWETT'SJEANOLD FASHIONED FOLK.T CALL-''TheAtomind the very hourIknockedat Janie'sdoor,raindrops pattered thick and fast and loud the winddid roar,chilly,murky Autumnnight with dead leaves driftingfast;'TwasbeFormy first callmy last.Janie's fatherat Janie'sownedhouse and perchance wouldthe milland owned the storebeside,AndI had nought to call my own save health andhopeand pride;'Twas Janie opened up the door; she blushed like anyroseHerfrockitwas a prettyblue, her braidsweretied withbows.And Oh,she was the sweetest thing, and Oh,Ilovedher soThat when she put her hand in mine I could not let it goI heard her say, andevery word was music in my ear,"It's neighbor Allan's oldest boy, you know him, mother;dear.""Comeinspokemylad,and take a chair," the mother gently:26

JEANdown and make"SitPOEMSBLEWETTSyourself to home, we're just oldfashioned folk,"And Oh,itsounded good to me; "We're just old fash-ioned folk."The courseof true love rarely runs as smoothly asitshould.This Janie was not always kind, and, woo her as I would,She still would have the banker's son, a handsome dashing fopwith her and talk with her; no pleadingher stop.To walkmadeBut Janie's mother favoured me; when Janie brokemyheart,With pleasing him and teasing me she always tookmypart,"Manof the world," he called himself,myrivalandmyfoe;Toofree ofhimmanner look orspeech, at least I thoughtso.But Janie's mother would not smilejoke,"Please toremember,sir,she'dat flippantsay,song or"we're just oldfashioned folkSomethings are very near and dear to us old fashionedfolk.Onenight, a bonnie nightbreezesitwarm,27was,withflowers,and

Icommonwalked, a king inarm.AndPOEMSBLEWETTSJEANas the sleepylittleclothes, with Janiebirdswere whisperingonmyin thegroveIwhat she must have knowntold hershe wasmyonly love.AndForand then,then,this heart ofmine leaped up inecstasy.Janie saidAnd whenInay, I'll not tell what Janie said to me:kissed her on the lips she was so fair asight.You'llwonder notImade myplea to Janie's folks thatnight.Icould nottellthem halfIwould,Ifeared them of atruth,Andallmywits were drunken on the wine of loveandyouth,But,somehow made them understand she was mymyAndlove,life.could they, would they,lether be so poor a laddie'swife.Herfather shookspokeme bythe hand, her mother gently;"You'll ay be good to Janie, lad, we're just old fashionedfolk,Andlovemeansalltheworldfashioned folk."28and moretousold

JEANBLEWETT'SPOEMSprovidence which watches o'er the foolish ones of'.''hatearth;ias watched o'er us the last three years, forwe are worth,WeOrmark whathave a gfarden full of flowers where Janie goes toreadsew, and I to smoke my pipe a happy man indeed.Wehave a cottage neat and trim as any you can see,And, best of all, the secret's out, we have a nurseryA. boy, a little dimpled thing with Janie' eyes of blue,;A.nd Janie's nose tipAnd Oh, whentiltedJanie'supand thatisJanie's too.mother comes he capers and hecrows,For Grandmaspoils him and I'm sure the dimpled vilknows.Last week, my cousin wondrous wise a nurse of highlaindegree.Camein to tell ushowto raise the youngster sensibly."You must not lift this infant up moment that he cries,Just let him cry, 'twill give his lungs the proper exercise.Pay no attention should he ask for something more toeat;Andnever kiss your childunless"You must not hold himupon thefeet.in your arms or rock him onyour knee.You must not kiss or cuddle him, it's foolishness," saidshe,29

"It'sPOEMSBLEWETTSJEANpoor Janie's face tookdangerous"ina look ofcare,ButJanie'smothersat severe in thatlow rockingchair.rocked and rocked a dimpled boy, and sang himand sweetAndsoftAIIlullaby until his joy and gladness was complete,saw his pretty dimpled hand go up and pat her cheeks,saw her smile of tenderness, and then I heard herspeak:"When Godgives mothersones, and bidslittleact their partThink you that he forgets to give aThat's far ahead of foolish rulesThemiss,dearest joy her heart canwisdom ofthe heart,which bid aknowthemwomanthe cradle and thekiss."Poorlittlebabies raised by rule"her gentle voiceitbroke,"But oursshallhavehis share of love, we're just oldfashioned folk.With small regard forallyourrules,fashioned folk."Methought hesaid, thatAs chuckling he awoke"I'm glad the angelsWithIdimpled babe,;leftmeherethese old fashioned folklove old fashioned folk."30we're just old

BLEWETT'SJEANPOEMSTHE OLD VALENTINE.T SENT mysweetheart a valentine on one St. Valentine'sday,Along time ago,when myhairwas brown,ah,nowit issprinkled with grey! sweetheart was pretty as she could be, a wild rosebloomed in each cheek.auburn hair rippled down to her waist, her eyeswere tender and meek.MyHerAnd, O,mysweetheart was dear to me, though nobodycould have guessedFrom mycarelesstenderness inI sentmyglance, ormy breast.mycarelessword, thesweetheart a valentine, a flowery and foolishthing,All covered with blue forget-me-nots,the wing.and cupids gay onTwohearts pierced through, a ruffle of lace, a knot ofribbon, a dove.Andbetter thanall,a space whereon I could write amessage of love;So burning the midnight oil I wrote with infinite patienceand care.This one earnest verse (for rhyming came hard) to sendtomylady fair:313

POEMSBLEWETT'SJEAN"I love you,And fainIlovewouldyou with all my heart,I call you mine.MyMary, my darling, my beautifulLet me be your valentine!"girl,This yellow old page from the book of youth was put inmy handAsIto-day.growled, **OurTomhas fallen in love in a nonsen-sicalHeisway;making a fool of himselfha! ha! heiswritinghisAnna'spoetry now,ToAnna'shislips,andAnna'shishair,beautiful brow.""Why, whatWhorubbishisthis?" I askedmywife, a portlybut sweet- faced dame,smilingly showed me the verse underneath whichIhad writtenShamefaced,Ireadmy nameit;again and ag inletmeconfessto a truthIfelt likedisowning the yellow thing that belonged tothe days of youth.myself an excited lad penning the wordsof care.Knowing her answer would fill my heart with rapture orTill I pictureddark despair.was yesterday, who says we are old? "I do," saysMary, my wife,"But age has nothing to do with it, since the choosingwas done for life."It32

.POEMSBLEWETT'SJEANbowed my grey head over her hand, "my sweetheart,"I'Onwhispered low,this Valentine'sdayItender you the verse writtenlong ago.I loveAndMyyou, I love you withfainMary,LetmewouldmyI calldarling,allmyheart,beautiful girl.be your valentine!"33myyou mine.

POEMSBLEWETT'SJEANLOVE'S HUMILITY4 T LOVEher, yes," the younger of them said,"I think her beautiful beyond compare;-Howproudly does she she carry that small head.With all its wealth of silky, night-black hair!And thenWas ither warm, red mouthnotmadeIseeitnowAndher chin.the smooth unwrinkled brow.for kisses?So round and firmEach cheek with such a cunning dimpleShe is so piquant, winsome, fair and good,in.I could not choose but love her if I would.DidI not loveher well, think you her charmsWould move my pulse in thisAnd make me long to fold herHold herlove's prisonerdeliciousinmyway.arms.by night and day?'Tis joy to think of her white-lidded eyesSo full of dreams, soHer slender form andToShebe too rashfullyet,come,letof tender speechwere not wiseityour wisdom teach.so piquant, winsome, fair, and good,I could not choose but love her if I would.Iisfainwould make her all my own, this maid,her well, but would it be quite rightI loveTo risk so much? At times I grow afraidTo lift her up to such a dizzy height.You know my prospects and you know my pride,34

JEAN(It is aAndyet, Iweighty matter to be wed)only know when at her sideThat life is rich in joy and"She is so piquant, winsome,IPOEMSBLEWETTSbliss."fair,could not choose but love herHesaidand good,if Iwould.""I could not choose but love herif I would,"herlovedyou would say,you"I would not choose but love her if I could."Youboast, but ifSo answered him the old man, stern and gray."There's passion in your words, but you have fears,Your high position! Ah! you are afraid!Boy, learn this truth from one of sober years,The man who really, truly loves a maidKnows only two things well no more, no lessHer matchless worth his own unworthiness."35

POEMSBLEWETT'SJEANTHE LONG ENGAGEMENT.(soliloquy of the male.)COMETIMESI telland her-myself 'Tis toil prevents my visit;That strenuous duty holds meThis day of daysfast but is it?Again the hour we meant to share,The weather makes me miss it;The rain, the wind, I do not dareThe storm's to blame but is it?Time wasIfI'drun from here to TrentMary's finger beckoned;In truth the hours withWereIallsmileMaryspentthat really reckoned.nowat the foolishnessThat thought life worth the livingIf Mary's mouth were mutinous,Or Mary's eyes forgiving.The years have takenWe're wiser,Now when my MaryExcusestollof uscooler, kinder;beckonsfair I find her.36me

JEANBLEWETT SPOEMSThe blush is off the rose, the springHas passed with bud and blossom,Andlove's a fair forgotten thingYet, sometimes, inmy bosomAll unaware the longings startWho cares for work or weather?'Tis*Tissorrow just to be apartHeaven to be together.37

BLEWETTSJEANWHAT THEPOEMSPOPPIES SAID.is ours/' the poppies saidthe west wind softly blowing,"To-day to hold, in our bosom red,npO-DAYTo-TheAndgreat white tears that the night has shedthe sunbeams warm and glowing.""To-day"Toisours," said the lover bold,sweet old story,spell out theMyheart for thine, and the tale is toldO, sweetheart, be not so shy and cold;See, the world is filled with glory !"The west wind"sighed to the sea that night'Tis a thought to giveone sorrow,The poppy boasts of her pearls of whiteThe lover, his store of dear delight;But neither dreams of the morrow."38;:

POEMSBLEWETT'SJEANJEALOUS, SWEETHEART?ASTEPon the walk she's waiting to hearWaiting waitingThere's a frown on her face pouting 'tis clear,Ah, someoneis lateinI fear.comingmyAll lovers are very fickle,deanWaiting, waiting!Onlylastweek he was praising up NellPraisingSaying her voice was clear as a bell,Thinking her fairer, and who is topraisingtellAll that he said as they walked through the dell?Praising, praising!Perhaps heissummerwith her thisWhoPerhaps hePerhaps hePerhaps heisisisissaying, "I loveknows?Whoknows?Whocares?knows?you best!"WhoNoNoWhoholding her hand so white.watching her eyes so bright.wooing with all his might.WhoPerhaps henightknows?cares?need to carry a weight on one's breast,need to worry and lose one's rest,Lifeisa comedy, loveisajest.Who39cares?Whocares?

WhatifPOEMSBLEWETTSJEANhe has quite forgotten to keepOld waysoldwaysThere's a path where the silver moonbeams creep,And the tangled flowers have fallen asleep,Andthedewisheavythe clover deepOld waysoldways!He's not coming to-night, no need to wait.Ah me Ah me!!Hark, the clock is chiming the hour of eight,And once on a time he railed at the fateThat kept him, if only a half -hour lateAh me Ah me!!But who comes here with a swinging stride?Ho! Hoi Ho! Ho!Turns she away in her pique and pride,Turns she away, till he says at her side,"There's but one for me in the world so wide!"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!Nowin theblossoms the beadeddewslips.Sweetheart!SomeoneisSweetheart!two tremulous lips,no sign of the past eclipse,kissingAnd there lingersDown in the clovera drowsy bee sips.Sweetheart!40Sweetheart!

BLEWETT'SJEANPOEMSSOMEBODY. plain of face, she hathQHE Theyislittlegrace,"when they speak of me,care, I am more than fairsay'Tis little IIn the eyes of Somebody."SheItis cold," they say, "as a winter's day,"mattereth not to me.For the glow and heat of my trueIs known unto Somebody."She holdethAh, theinheart's beathand neither gold or land"dull eyes cannot seeHowrich and great is my broad estateIn the heart of Somebody.41

POEMSBLEWETTSJEANTHE COURTIER'S LADYE.Y ladye's face is proud and fair,MMyladye's eyes are grey,airShe goeth out to take theOn every sunny day.Myladye wears aThatfalleth toof bluegownherfeet,All broidered o'er with pearls like dew,And daisies shy and sweet.Myladye wears a hat of silk.That fairy hands did spin.And strings it hath as whiteTo tie beneath her chin.MyAas milk,ladye wears upon her breastknot of ribbon gay.But who her heart doth love the bestMyladye will not say.And, O, the jewelsDo makerichgrow dim.her powderedThat sparkle inAnd on her fingersMyand rarethe eyeslim.ladye wears a satin shoe,silver buckle wide,WithAtiny thingThatismyfrom heel to toejoy and pride.42hair,

JEANMyAPOEMSBLEWETT'Sladye wears upon her facelittle touch of scorn,Nofuller share of pride and graceHath any woman bom.My ladye's face is sweet andMy ladye's eyes are grey,She goeth out to take theOn every sunny day.43airfair,

BLEWETT'SJEANTHEMY MyPOEMSRUSTIC'S LASSIE.face is fair to see,lassie'slassie'seyes are blue,And always do they tell to meHer heart is fond and true.There'ssilk, too,onAs yellow as theAnd woven is eachmylassie'shead,gold,shining threadInto a braided fold.But never fairy hands did spinSilk likemylassie's hair,Asfor the strings beneath her chin,I would not have them there.Lest one dear dimple, growing shy,That everyone should see.Within those silken strings should tryTo hide itself from me.Mylassie wears a gown of white,Which needs no pearls to deck.With lace like cobweb, soft and light,Full-gathered at her neck.Mylassiewears upon her breastNoknot of ribbon gay.Forget-me-nots she loves the best.Plucked at the dawn of day.44

BLEWETT SJEANMylassie's feet, likePOEMStwo white mice,Go slipping through the grass.And all the dew-drops think themAnd kiss them as they pass.Thesatin shoe with buckle drestIs richer,ButifNotitmayhalf sogoodMy lassie's face isMy lassie's eyesAndbe,the truth must be confest.to see.fair to see,are blue,always do they tell to meheart is fond and true.Her45nice,

JEANBLEWETT'SPOEMSPEACE.T TNBROKEN Thanpeace, I ween, is sweeter farreconciliation.Love's red scar,salved with kiss of penitence, and tears.Remains, full oft, unhealed through all the years.Though46

BLEWETT'SJEANPOEMS"GOOD BYE."TT--is good-bye," she said; "the world is wide,There's space for you and me to walk apart.Though we have walkedtogether side by side.My thoughts all yours, my resting-place yourWe now will go our different ways. ForgetThe happyOne thoughtMyloveIpast.of me.isgreat,heart,would not have you keepAh,myyes,griefmyeyes are wet;must needs be deep.have strength to look at you, and say:it all, forget our souls were stirred,Forget the sweetness of each dear, dead day.The warm, impassioned kiss, the tender word,The clinging handclasp, and the love-filled eyes"YetIForgetbut, when we walk apartthough wilful and unwise.word of mine did ever hurt your heart."ForgetallRememberNothese;this,47

POEMSBLEWETTSJEANWHENONEIHAVE GONE.summer's morningIheard a larkSinging to heaven, a sweet-throated bird;Onewinter's nightIwas gladThe joy oflife, IIhave heard you say,mymy laughter, myWhen I have gone on the long,Isdarkhad heard.in theBecause of the wondrous songlove,smiles and tearsstrange way,Let these stay with you through all the yearsThese be the lark's song. What is love worthThat cannot crowd, in the time that's givenTo two like us on this grey old earth.Such bliss as will last till we reach heaven?Dearone, think oft of the full, glad years,And, thinking of them, forget to weep.Whisper: "Remembrance holds no tears!"And kiss my mouth when I fall on sleep.48;

POEMSBLEWETT'SJEANDESERTED.QHE Sostood that night with a face so set,filled with bitterness and despair,Closingeyes, I can see her yet.mySorrowful, broken, but passingfair.Her eyes were fixed on the sky above,Where stars were shining so soft andclear;Did the ghosts of innocence and loveSteal out of the gloom and stand quite near?So youngATheto quiver beneath suchfairerbrow 'twould be hardpity of it! aAndsmart!to findbroken heart,childhood lying so close behind."'Twas long agoThat I laughed for joy at the touch of morn.Kneeled down and prayed in the light and glowIheard her whisper,Ah me!Icrynowtempest-torn:"'Thank God for night, and the world asleep'Their eyes pierce through me the long, long dayThank God for the darkness, soft and deep."That folds me, and hides me quite away !'49

BLEWETT'SJEANBEYOND THEVEIL.lifted eyes pain-filledYOUSadHowTheIPOEMSon me,questioning eyes which didcould thrust back churlishlyfriendship true you offered me.Ah, Sweet, to-day you understand!'Twas thatmyheart beat rapturouslyAt smile of thine, at touch of hand.At tender glance vouchsafed to me.The while I knew it must not be.Ah, Sweet, to-day you understand!There's neither pain nor mysteryIn that far-off and fragrant landTo which you journeyed fearlessly,By golden street and jasper sea.Ah, Sweet, to-day you understand!50demand

POEMSBLEWETT'SJEANMARY ELLEN.LITTLEAnOntario Farm Idyll.abeenlong,goneYOU'VELittle Mary Ellen,long time,Left us just a year agoWhenBigthe buds were swellin'in every lilac bush.Lookin* pink and prettyI mean, not lilac budsYou,Nowyou're from thecity.So much learnin' in yourWonder it can hold it,head.Boardin' school's the thing to takeidea and mould it.YoungMy, but you look goodPreciousWith yourAndto me,little girlie,eyes as blue as blue.your hair so curly!City walk and cityLittleMaryHave you foundOr wouldwaysEllen,a city beauthat be tellin'?Kind ofstylish, kind of proud,Annabelle, she told me.What you can't bear Annabelle,!Well, you needn't scold me.51

POEMSBLEWETTSJEANAnnabelle's a model girlMaybe not a charmer,But a splendid wife she'll makeSome young lucky farmer.Callin' names, oh, that's not niceAnnabelle has stirred you.Hush-h, boardin' school 'd have a!Ifitever heard you.Oh, you're going away again!My, but I will miss youGoin' to be my sister now,!WouldSinceit isIcare to kiss you?a real goodbySince the dreamisover,Since you've found a betterAnd a finer lover?manThere's a day back in the pastNever be anotherKissed you as your sweetheart thenI'll not be your brother.Brother! can't you hear my heartLeapin' up to claim you?Dear, don't hang that pretty head,I'm not 'going to blame you.Might of known 'twasalla dream.Pretty little fairy!Couldn't love a country ladWell enough to marry.52fit

I'vePOEMSBLEWETT'SJEANmypride as well as you,Heart seemsachin', swellin'Like the Aprillilacbuds,Mary EllenDarlin'Mary EllenLittle!Wha

JEANBLEWETTSPOEMS PAGE Deserted 49 BeyondtheVeil 50 LittleMaryEllen 51 WithintheThreshold AHeartofGold 56 'iSheJustKeepsHouseforMe. 57 TheWifeofAdamis 59 TheFirstborn 60 TheWife 61 TheWaytoDreamland 63 TooDeepforTears 64 TheLonesomestHouse 65 Daddy'sBoy 67 VTheBoyoftheHouse 69 Granny'sDay 72 Daddy 74 EyesofChildhood TheW lkintheWood 78 MyLittleMaid 80 ALad'sProtest.83 Jack (g, .