Theodore Harding Rand

Theodore Harding Rand was a Canadian educator, poet, and the first chief superintendent of education for New Brunswick, and later Nova Scotia. Born on February 8, 1835, in Carleton County, New Brunswick, Rand had a profound influence on the educational systems in both provinces. He was also a noted poet, contributing significantly to Canadian literature in the 19th century. He passed away on May 29, 1900.

February 8, 1835

May 29, 1900

English

At The Ford.

    I.

    A death-like dew was falling
        On the herbs and the grassy ground;
    The stars to their bournes prest forward,
        Night cloaked the hills around.

    He thought of a night long past, -
        Of the ladder that reached to heaven,
    The Face that shone above it,
        The pillar, his pillows of even.


    II.

    From out of the sleeve of the darkness
        Was thrust an arm of strength, -
    Long he wrestled for mastery,
        But begged for blessing at length.

    White fear fell on him at dawn,
        As the Nameless spake with him then;
    "Prevailer and Prince," called He him,
        "A power with God and with men."

    And, alone, the lame wrestler mused:
        ...

Theodore Harding Rand

Ay Me!

    Silent, with hands crost meekly on his breast,
        Long time, with keen and meditative eye,
        Stood the old painter of Siena by
    A canvas, whose sign manual him confest.

    His head droopt low, his eye ceased from its quest,
        As tears filled full the fountains long since dry;
        And from his lips there broke the haunting cry:
    "May God forgive me - I did not my best!"

Theodore Harding Rand

Glory-Roses.

    "Only a penny, Sir!"
        A child held to my view
    A bunch of "glory-roses," red
        As blood, and wet with dew.

    (O earnest little face,
        With living light in eye,
    Your roses are too fair for earth,
        And you seem of the sky!)


    "My beauties, Sir!" he said,
        "Only a penny, too!"
    His face shone in their ruddy glow
        A Rafael cherub true.

    "Yestreen their hoods were close
        About their faces tight,
    But ere the sun was up, I saw
        That God had come last night.

    "O Sir, to see them then!
        The bush was all aflame! -
    O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir,
        That is their holy name.


    "Only a penny, Sir!" -
      ...

Theodore Harding Rand

Repose.

    A mossy footfall in this wood
        A peal of thunder were,
    Or autumn tempest-shriek, compared
        With the unwhispered stir
    Of massy fluids lift in air,
    To build these leafy pillars fair.

    Lavished at wordless wish or mute
        Command, the chemic wealth
    Upsprings to meet the builders' hands,
        All hushed as dusky stealth.
    Noiseless as love, as silent prayer
    Mysterious, the builders are.


    Ah, sure, these silences are works
        Of God's sabbatic rest,
    A music perfect as the calm
        Of wave's unbroken crest!
    These woven leaves that stilly nod,
    These violets, ope their eyes on God.

    The deep serene that worketh here
        Works, too, 'mid human tears...

Theodore Harding Rand

Summer.

    O come, unpack the heart of care!
        Kingcups sun the meadows o'er,
    The yellowbugle sudden blows
    By the river's tidal flows,
                And the heavens are bare.

    Room, room, and open sky,
        River or brook or lake hard by,
    Buttercups, daisies, grasses, clover,
    Bobolinks, meadowlarks - these love I!
                Whiskodink!


    Sail, swallows, sail this emerald sea
        Waving to the west wind's breath!
    Earth has few other fields like these,
    Sweet of sun and tidal breeze,
                And the droning bee.

    Room, room, and open sky,
    River or brook or lake hard by,
        Buttercups, daisies, grasses, clover,
    Bobolinks, meadowlarks - these love I!
...

Theodore Harding Rand

The Crystal Spring.
I.

Fair spirit of the plaining sea,
Thou heard'st Apollo's lyre! -
Now folded are thy silver wings
Thee sunward bore,
A dream and a desire.

Ranging the upper azure deeps,
The sunlight on thy wings,
How blanched thy purpose as there fell
The lightning's stroke,
And darkness on all things!

In agony of rain and hail,
And phantom dance of snow,
The chastening angels of the air
To mountain bleak
Consigned thee far below.

There in the arms of heartless frost,
And burdened with thy train,
The keen stars watched thy ageful way,
Till breast of earth
Warmed th...
Theodore Harding Rand

The Note Of Nature.
Earth's manifold noises break
Overhead, in the calm,
In unison full, and wake
The note of a psalm.

On the sunny hills, in the vales,
It falls on my ear;
Down the baffling winds it sails,
In the night draweth near.

It sounds like great mountains to me,
A deep monotone -
Like the veiled AEonian sea,
That girdles Time's zone.

The sun and the stars and the moon
Keep time with this note,
The evening and morning and noon,
Things near and remote.

The tides ebb and flow to its beat,
'Tis the seasons' rhyme, -
The harebell and twin-flower sweet
Its undertone chime.

The night-moth ...
Theodore Harding Rand

The Whitethroat.
Shy bird of the silver arrows of song,
That cleave our Northern air so clear,
Thy notes prolong, prolong,
I listen, I hear:
"I - love - dear - Canada,
Canada, Canada."

O plumes of the pointed dusky fir,
Screen of a swelling patriot heart,
The copse is all astir,
And echoes thy part!...

Now willowy reeds tune their silver flutes
As the noise of the day dies down;
And silence strings her lutes,
The Whitethroat to crown....

O bird of the silver arrows of song,
Shy poet of Canada dear,
Thy notes prolong, prolong,
We listen, we hear:
"I - love - dear - Canada,
Canada, Canada."
Theodore Harding Rand

The Wind.
The lithe wind races and sings
Over the grasses and wheat -
See the emerald floor as it springs
To the touch of invisible feet!

Ah, later, the fir and the pine
Shall stoop to its weightier tread,
As it tramps the thundering brine
Till it shudders and whitens in dread!

Breath of man! a glass of thine own
Is the wind on the land, on the sea -
Joy of life at thy touch! - full grown,
Destruction and death maybe!
Theodore Harding Rand

The Years.
"Time in advance behind him hides his wings." - YOUNG.

As comes amain the glossy flying raven,
That with unwavering wing, breast on the view,
Cleaves slow the lucid air beneath the blue,
And seems scarce other than a figure graven -
Ha! now the sweeping pinions flash as levin,
And all their silken cordage whistles loud! -
Lo, the departing flight, like fleck of cloud,
Is swallowed quick by the awaiting heaven!

So lag and tarry, to the youth, the years
In their oncoming from the brooding sky,
Till bursts at middle life their rushing speed
All breathless with the world of hopes and fears;
And, lo, departing, the Eternal Eye
Winks them to moments in His e...
Theodore Harding Rand

To Emeline.
I would enshrine in silvern song
The charm that bore our souls along,
As in the sun-flushed days of summer
We felt the pulsings of nature's throng;

When flecks of foam of flying spray
Smote white the red sun's torrid ray,
Or wimpling fogs toyed with the mountain,
Aërial spirits of dew at play;

When hovering stars, poised in the blue,
Came down and ever closer drew;
Or, in the autumn air astringent,
Glimmered the pearls of the moonlit dew.

We talked of bird and flower and tree,
Of God and man and destiny.
The years are wise though days be foolish,
We said, as swung to its goal the sea.

Our spirits knew keen fellowship
Of light and shadow, h...
Theodore Harding Rand