Page:Poems Cook.djvu/377

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A SONG FOR THE RAGGED SCHOOLS.
To work, to work! ye good and wise,
Let "ragged" scholars grace your schools;
Ere Christian children can arise,
They must be train'd by Christian rules.

We ask no fragrance from the bud
Where canker-vermin feeds and reigns;
We seek no health-pulse in the blood
Where poison runneth in the veins.

And can we hope that harvest fruits
In desert bosoms can be grown;
That palms and vines will fix their roots
Where only briers have been sown?

Man trains his hound with watchful care,
Before he trusts him in the chase;
Man keeps his steed on fitting fare,
Before he tries him in the race;

And yet he thinks, the human soul,
A meagre, fierce, and untaught thing,
Shall heed the written Law's control,
And soar on Reason's steady wing.

Oh, they who aid not by their gold,
Or voice, or deed, the helpless ones;
They who, with reckless brain, withhold
Truth's sunshine from our lowly sons;

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