A Song Of Cheer.

    Here's a song of cheer
    For the whole long year:

    We've only to do our best,
        Take up our part
        With a strong, true heart -
    The Lord will do all the rest.

Jean Blewett

Jean Blewett was a Canadian author, journalist, and poet. Born in Scotia, Ontario, she became well-known for her poetry and was awarded the part of lyrical poet at the World’s Fair in Chicago, 1893. Her notable works were often published in literary magazines. Besides poetry, Blewett also wrote stories and worked as a journalist, gaining considerable respect in both fields. She passed away in Chatham, Ontario, in 1934. Her legacy remains a significant part of Canadian literary history.

Jean Blewett

Vashti.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

A Song Of Harvest Home.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

At The Sick Children's Hospital.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

When Trees Are Green.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

A Song Of Harvest Home.

    Praise God for blessings great and small,
    For garden bloom and orchard store,
    The crimson vine upon the wall,
    The green and gold of maples tall,
    For harvest-field and threshing-floor!

    Praise God for children's laughter shrill,
    For clinging hands and tender eyes,
    For looks that lift and words that thrill,
    For friends that love through good and ill,
    For home, and all home's tender ties!

    Praise God for losses and for gain,
    For tears to shed, and songs to sing,
    For gleams of gold and mists of rain,
    For the year's full joy, the year's deep pain,
    The grieving and the comforting!

Jean Blewett

A Song Of Cheer

Cheer, though you part at morn!
Cheer, though you never part:
Sigh not, nor look forlorn;
Never lose heart!
For, to the hope you don,
Face that your soul puts on,
Whether in sun or storm,
Will the world's face conform.
Sing from the start.
Never lose heart.

Madison Julius Cawein

End o' th' Year (Prose)

It's a long loin 'at's niver a turn, an' th' longest loin ends somewhear. Ther's a end to mooast things, an' this is th' end o' the year. When a chap gets turned o' forty, years dooant seem as long as once they did - he begins to be feeared o' time rolling on - but it's fooilish, for it nawther gooas faster nor slower nor iver it did. But he's a happy chap 'at, when th' year ends, can luk back an' think ha mich gooid he's done, for it isn't what a chap will do for th' futer, its what he has done i'th' past 'at fowk mun judge by. Its net wise for onybody to booast o' what they mean to do in a month's time, becoss we cannot tell what a month's time may do for us. We can hardly help havin' a gloomy thowt or two at this part o'th' year, but Kursmiss comes to cheer us up a bit, an' he's nooan ov a gooid sooart 'at can't be jolly once i'th' yea...

John Hartley

The Song Of The Bells.

    He frowned and shook his snowy head.
    "Those clanging bells! they deafen quite
    With their unmeaning song," he said.
    "I'm weary of it all to-night -
    The gladness, sadness. I'm so old
    I have no sympathy to spare,
    My heart has grown so hard and cold,
    So full of self, I do not care
    How many laugh, or long, or grieve
    In all the world this Christmas eve.

    "There was a time long, long ago -
    They take our best, the passing years -
    For the old life, and faith, and glow.
    I'd give - what's on my cheek? Not tears!
    I have a whim. To-night I'll spend
    Till eyes turn on me gratefully -
    An old man's whim, just to pretend
    That he is what he used to be;
    For this one night, not want nor pain...

Jean Blewett

A Song Of Cheer

Be of good cheer, and have no fear
Of Fortune or Tomorrow:
To Hope's low whisper lend an ear
And turn away from Sorrow.

Time out of mind the soul is blind
To things God sends as blessings:
And Fortune often proves unkind
Merely in foolish guessings.

Within the soul we bear the whole
Of Hell and also Heaven;
And 'twixt the two is set the goal
Of dreams our lives have driven.

What counts above all deeds is Love,
And Friendship, that, remember,
In heart-beats keeps Life's record of
Its April and December.

To every one come rain and sun,
And calm and stormy weather:
What helps is not what Life has done,
But Life and Love together.

Of sun and rain and joy and pain
The web of Life is woven;
And ever through...

Madison Julius Cawein

The King's Gift.

TO E. S. R.


    The new year coming to us with swift feet
            Is the King's gift,
            And all that in it lies
    Will make our lives more rounded and complete.
            It may be laughter,
            May be tear-filled eyes;
            It may be gain of love,
            Or loss of love;
    It may be thorns, or bloom and breath of flowers,
    The full fruition of these hopes that move -
    It may be what will break these hearts of ours,
    What matter? 'Tis the great gift of the King -
    We do not need to fear what it may bring.

Jean Blewett