Poems of Jas. McConnell 12/7/1936
(These poems were found on a sheet slipped between the pages of the Thomas McConnell(the younger)/Emily Urquart family Bible. They are believed to be the work of James McConnell, s/o John McConnell and Margaret Campbell, reinforcing the assumption that John was the brother of James McConnell who married Mary Ann Campbell and also of Thomas (the elder) who married Elizabeth Murray. James (the writer) would have been Thomas the younger's first cousin.)
Home Sweet Home
The rose on the bush,the thorn
in the hedge,
The flowers on the wall the
woodbine entwine,
The sweet-scented briar, with
myrtle and thyme,
'Tis a spot of heaven on earth
most delightful to me.
The flowers in the garden,
where I spent happy days.
With King William Buttons-a
most gorgeous hue,
As the birds sang to me their
beautiful lays,
My heart longs to dwell with
forever and aye.
Ages may come, ages may go,
But while human hearts are
beating,
The words that will live forever,
O'er land or sea or foam, are
"Home, sweet home".
As I wandered round the homestead,
Viewing sights of bygone days,
Many a dear familiar spot
Brought within my recollection,
Scenes I'd seemingly forgot, -
There the orchard, meadow yonder,
And here the dear oldapple-tree;
Over yonder theBogdale and Broomfield.
And here the deep old-fashioned well,
With its moss-covered walls;
There the pond where theducks "Quack, quack!"
Beside the brook, the osier, and the green holly-tree.
The gay purple heather that grows on the moorland,
The furze and the broomwood that grows on the wall,
The fragrant hawthorn and spruce,
With the delicious scent of the new-mown hay.
The oats in the haggard, the rye in the garden,
The peat in the stack, the coal in the yard,
And the old open fireplace we all sat around,
Sent a thrill no tongue can tell.
Around the ivy-porch that springs,
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
While Susie at her wheel did sing,
In russet gown with apron blue.
The house all surrounded with bushes,
The ash and the oak, with the pretty cherry-tree,
The sweet silver fir, the larch,and the fuschia,
And they're all grown green in our own Carginagh.
As I sat beside the window
In the cottage where I was born,
After, just as when a child I
rambled
Up and down and out and in.
Although the house was almost
held by strangers
All remained the same within,
To the closet-room dark
ascending-
Once a source of childish dread!
Peering through the misty
cobwebs of my eyes,
Lo, I spied my cradle-bed and
creepy-stool;
Quick I drew them from the
curtains,
Covered over with dust so fine.
When, behold, I heard in fancy
Strains of one familiar song,
Often sung by my dear Mother
To me in that cradle-bed.
"Hush, my dear, lie still and
slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed,"--
While I listen to the music
Stealing on in gentle strain.
I am carried back to childhood,
I am now a child again;
'Tis the hour of my retiring,
At the dusky eventide.
Near my cradle-bed and
creepy-stool I'm kneeling,
As of yore (almost) by Mother's
side;
Hands are (almost) on my head,
so loving,
As they were in childhood days.
'Tis a prayer in language simple
As a mother's lips can frame;
I with weary eyes am trying
To repeat the words she says.
"Father, Thou who art in
heaven,
Hallowed ever be Thy name,"
Prayer is over, -to my pillow,
With a "Good-night" kiss, I
creep,
Scarcely waking while I
whisper,
"Now I lay me down to sleep."
Then my Mother, o'er me
hanging,
Seems to pray in earnest words
but mild:
"Hear my prayer, O heavenly
Father,
Bless, oh, bless my precious
child."
Yet, I am but only dreaming,
Ne'er I'll be a child again!
Many years has that dear
Mother
In the quiet grave-yard
lain,
But her blessed angel-spirit
Daily hovers o'er my head.
Now, my Brothers Tom and
John, come in:
We three, with pictures on the
wall,
Pictures of sister Pen and Bell,
Brothers Dave and Will,
With Mother towering o'er them
all.
The only picture missing is of
Father,
So loving, kind and tender,
Who seems to whisper with
your Mother,
"We are waiting to receive you
over yonder."
Around these scenes my
memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser
care;
Time does but the deeper
impression make,
As streams their
channels deeper wear.
And when my life's pilgrimage is
over,
And my bone are laid in peaceful slumber,
I'll hear myMother-angel calling from earth
to heaven,
Even from mycradle-bed and creepy-stool.
NOTES:
Jas. McConnell = James McConnell b. c.1870 probably s/o John McConnell and Margaret Campbell m. 1865
1870=66 = 1936 James, Tom, John, Pen, Bell, Dave, Will
+++
Family lineup:
Tom b.1867
Penelope b.1869
David b.1870
John b.1872
Will b.1874
Isabella d.o.b.unknown
James d.o.b.unknown
(Susie ?)
