Classic Poem

O THERE'S joy in every sphere of life from cottage unto throne,
But the sweetest smiles of nature beam upon the farm alone;
And in memory I go back to the days of long ago,
When the teamster shouted " Haw, Buck!" " Gee!" " G'lang!" and " Whoa!"

I see out in the logging-field the heroes of our land,
With their strong and sturdy faces, each with handspike in his hand;
With shoulders strong as Hercules, they feared no giant foe,
As the teamster shouted " Haw, Buck!" " Gee!" " G'lang!" and " Whoa!"

The logging-bees are over, and the woodlands all are cleared,
The face that then was young and fair is silvered o'er with beard;
The handspike now holds not the place it did long years ago,
When the teamster shouted " Haw, Buck!" " Gee!" " G'lang!" and " Whoa!"

On meadow land and orchard field there rests a glory round,
Sweet as the memory of the dead that haunts some holy ground;
And yet there's wanting to my heart some joy of long ago,
When the teamster shouted " Haw, Buck!" " Gee!" " G'lang!" and " Whoa!"

Demosthenes had silvery tongue, and Cicero knew Greek,
The Gracchi brothers loved old Rome and always helped the weak;
But there's not a Grecian hero, nor Roman high or low,
Whose heart spake braver patriot words than " Gee!" " G'lang!" and " Whoa!"

They wore no coat of armour, the boys in twilight days —
They sang no classic music, but the old " Come all ye" lays;
For armed with axe and handspike, each giant tree their foe,
They rallied to the battle-cry of " Gee!" " G'lang!" and " Whoa!"

And so they smote the forest down, and rolled the logs in heaps,
And brought our country to the front in mighty strides and leaps;
And left upon the altar of each home wherein you go,
Some fragrance of the flowers that bloom through " Gee!" " G'lang!" and " Whoa!"