BOOK OF POEMS James Samuel Page Bowler’s poems were available in several forms. Some had been printed professionally on card stock, some were type written and others were written in his original hand.
My First Poem
Upon the Death of Son, James Samuel Bowler
Memory Recalls
Then and Now
Retribution Points the Way
Prognostication
Gratitude
Calvary
The Wanderer
Knock the Knockers
Is it Too Late
Prohibition our Watchword
Bills a Man Must Meet
Win the Prize
Why Kill the Birds
May 4th, 1904, to May 4th, 1926
Pure Delight
All at Home
To Our Erma -- This is for You
Birthday Poem for Son, Francis Joseph, 1931
To My Daughter, Florence Matilda, on Her 54th Birthday
To My Numerous Posterity Upon the Death of My Mother
Upon the Death of Grandson, James Bowler Pulsipher, 1890
Peaceful Sleep, Upon the Death of Grandson, Ernest Pulsipher, January, 1921
Mother, Upon the Death of His Daughter Mary A. Leavitt, March 13, 1921
To Mr. & Mrs. William Hall, Sr. , Aug., 1909, Upon the Death of Their Beloved Daughter
Christmas Greeting
Christmas chimes
Christmas
New Year, 1921
Bright New Year
Joyous Spring
Summer
Following Matilda’s baptism she became leading soprano in J. S. P.’s choir. It was then that he composed his first poem. First Stanza runs thus: (Taken from his autobiography, page 20)
Oh, what love and joy and gladness
Reigns within each noble mind
Bringing hope, dispelling sadness,
Bringing peace to all mankind.
Lines on death card of son, James Samuel Bowler, aged 3 years, 7 months, hanging on wall in front room of home at No. 2 Henry Street, Sneinton, Nottingham, England. (Taken from his autobiography, page 20)
Your sweet little rose-bud has left you,
To bloom in a holier sphere;
He that gave it in wisdom bereft you;
Then why should you cherish a tear?Return to Contents
It was a lovely Sabbath mom, just sixty years ago;
My mind in silent study bent, the landscape all aglow,
While strolling down the riverside, the aspect most serene,
A piercing cry was raised on high, Horrors! What could it mean?Yes, sixty years have passed me by; yet memory recalls
That thrilling scene, that lonely spot: the vision still appalls,
With drooping head, yet full intent. A plunge with naught to save,
A maiden fair with golden hair sought a watery grave.No time to question what the cause; here life was but a span,
No other thought then crossed my mind, but save her if you can.
The bank was high, the water deep; I caught her floating hair;
Her life was saved, she thought me brave to rescue from despair.The old, old story then I heard. Two lovers had a spat;
A sleepless night with troubled brain, her nerves could not combat.
Her home was half a mile or more from where the plunge was made;
Both soaking wet, I’ll ne’re forget that picturesque parade.She rushed into her mother’s arms with sobs and moans aloud;
Sorrow and joy was mingled, then conthtion there avowed,
Her aged father soon appeared, amazed beyond degree;
A solemn group in silence stoop upon their bended knee.As reason reasserts herself, tranquility now reigns.
The whys and wherefores, pros and cons in time are all explained.
Attention then centers on me: what brought me to the scene?
Providence, 0, kind Providence, or I’d have drowned, I ween.Her parents thought I ought to wed the daughter they admired,
But I was only just fifteen; it set my brain on fire.
Their friendship knew no earthly bounds, I felt myself well paid;
Their high esteem seemed but a dream, I walked away dismayed.
Gunlock, Utah, June 19-- J. S. P. Bowler
Twice I crossed the ocean wide,
Twice have I left my home;
Once with bayonet at my side,
And now in peace I roam.
First my country called me forth
To scenes of blood and strife,
Leaving all I had on earth;
Yet God preserved my life.Out in far off Africa;
Well do I mark the spot,
Where I lay---in metaphor---
A target for each shot.
There beneath the torrid sun
By musket shot I fell;
True, the battle had been won,
But surely war is hell.Hark! Another call is heard,
Again I heed the sound;
Choicest blessings oft deferred
In later years are found.
In peaceful vales now I dwell;
No deadly conflict here,
Zion prospers, all is well,
And faithful Saints draw near.J. S. P. Bowler, Gunlock
Bread cast upon the water seen after many days,
From seventeen hundred seventy-seven sheds its benign rays.
Lafayette in freedom’s cause his fortune freely gave,
At Brandywine he fought and bled our sacred rights to save.One hundred forty years passed with independence rare,
One hundred million people then for dreadful war prepare.
Torn by ruthless powerful foe fair France has been despoiled,
And justice cried aloud to help this menace to recoil.Retribution points the way as eagles soar on high,
A mighty army sally forth beneath our westem sky.
Our soldier boys and sailors brave cross the mighty deep,
Despite of lurking submarines that ghastly vigil keep.Debt with gratitude thus paid another victory won,
The stars and stripes emblazoned with Germans on the run.
Let warring nations now take heed for peace firmly stand,
America has paved the way as if by God’s command.J. S. P. Bowler
A voice as from above was heard,
So clearly at the noon day hour;
My soul imbued with every word-
Filled with awe at unseen power;
The message penetrate my view-
Revealing precepts old and new.With quiet mien-serene-controlled,
The book of books invite review;
Future events are there foretold-
Reviving hope the mind endue;
Though vaunted pride may film the land,
Regardless of divine command.Enlightened and sarcastic age-
Religion how diversified;
Yea scornfully the mass engage,
The truth distort, the plan deride;
While signs and warnings testify-
The closing scene is drawing nigh.Why say the future none can tell?
When proof so plainly now appear;
Confusing sounds should break the spell-
Convince the world the end is near;
Though teachers point to better things,
And say: “You walk, we go on wings.”Destructive earthquake will increase,
Terrific storms o’er land and sea;
Tornado sweep nor will they cease,
Appalling though the thought may be;
It was foretold can man withstand
The mighty power that holds command.In nineteen hundred forty four,
This earth will shake as ne’ er before;
The wheat and tares together grow,
And all must reap just what they sow;
Contentious strife will then decrease,
And introduce a reign of peace.By J. S. P. Bowler, Gunlock, Utah
We thank thee our Father for all we enjoy
For a home in the mountains so free
For clear crystal fountains that sparkle so high
And the landscape so lovely to see
We thank thee our Father for allWe thank thee for prophets to guide us through life
For our parents who love us most dear
For teachers who learn us to guard against strife
And for dear ones whose names we revere
We thank thee our Father for allJ. S. P. Bowler, Gunlock, Utah
O Father glorify thy Son forgive the erring jew
Thy will 0 God not mine be done they know not what they do.Those gracious words was breathed by Him who died on calvary
His sacrifice shall be my theme through all eternity.He died a fallen world to save He set the captive free
His mortal life He freely gave here’s love beyond degree.Now while we take the sacrament in memory of our Lord
We thus renew our covenant and magnify His word.J. S. P. Bowler, Gunlock, Utah
Cease ye wintry winds to blow
Cease ye murmuring streams to flow
Hush’d be every rural noise
I think I hear my true love’s voiceChorus
Yet here’s the rock the brook the tree
Hark hark a voice don’t you think it is he
No it is not he and the night is coming on
Oh where’s my lonely wanderer gone.
No it is not he and the night is coming on
It is not he and the night is coming on
No it is not he and the night is coming on
Oh where’s my lonely wanderer gone.Loud I call to make him hear
‘Tis I that calls my love my dear
Where can he be where can he stay
I fear my true love’s lost his wayChorus
The moon behind the cloud is lost
In every crag appears a ghost
The lightning flash is seen no more
Where loud the awful thunder roarChorus
Knock the knockers
(Written for The Utah Independent)While the knocker keeps on knocking,
Can he ever win the race;
Is he not the gate unlocking,
That admits naught but disgrace.Will the knocker keep on knocking---
Has he nothing else in view
Than eternally be knocking
At the noble, good and true.Would the knocker keep on knocking,
if we all should turn him down;
On the ocean he’d be rocking
And soon wish he had drowned.Knock the knocker with his knocking,
Cease to treat him as a man;
Then his ship he’ll soon be docking
In some port where wreckers ran.When you knock the knocker’s knocking,
See you do your duty well;
So that if his mates come flocking,
Send the knockers all to hell.J. S. P. Bowler, Gunlock, Utah
A preacher told the other day some very touching things;
Much eloquence he did display, like angels soaring wings.
He pointed to the realms above, then to the pit below,
And urged now is the time to prove which place you choose to go.There is no half-way stopping place, there is no turning back;
So if you wish to win the race just breath a firm alack.
The height, the depth he did unfold in forceful adumbrate;
And many wonderous things he told about our future state.He even launched his bark so far upon the unknown sea,
That some would moan and others groan, some rapt in ecstasy;
He talked about the ruined lives of thousands in our land,
Unhappy mothers, children, wives, the wise may understand.The horrid nightmare he disclosed depicting morbid pest;
Our moral law has interposed this evil to arrest.
Weak minded men must learn to stand with dignity forsooth,
Protecting with a steady hand as when in happy youth.A death like silence then prevailed, the sermon found its mark;
The demon drink had been assailed where life had been most dark.
A phantom mist o’er spread the scene, pathetic form appears,
Like pictures flashed across the screen and all were moved to tears.The form arose with solemn mien and pleadingly he cried,
Is there no hope for such as me who nature’s laws defied?
I staggered here perchance to rest, if rest I e’ er may find,
God only knows I’ve done my best to leave my sin behind.Once I had wife and children dear, and love reigned in our home,
Until I filled their hearts with fear as like a beast I foamed.
My wife to an asylum went, my children all have fled;
Now every earthly tie is rent, a wretched life I’ve led.May prohibition now bear sway, my race is nearly run;
0 had I in my younger days the glittering goblet shunned.
The law must firmly exercise its sovereign power of state,
Wisdom has this great plan devised before it is too late.J. S. P. Bowler
Beware, the thief is at our door,
Insidious foe of home;
Admit him not, the selfish boar,
Bid him sally forth and roam.
He flaunts destruction on his banner,
Brazenly disputes our rights.
Give defiance to his clamor,
Banish him with all his blights.With Manhood’s firm determination,
Marshal virtue’s moral power:
Guard our youth from dire temptation,
This is danger’s darkest hour.
Meet the foe of prohibition,
Let no faltering strength prevail;
Faithfully perform our mission
Though the demon hosts assail.Heaven will aid and angels guide us,
Listen to the still small voice;
Know ye not what ere betide us
Honor leads to paradise?Prohibition beacons onward
Like the star in yonder sky;
Prohibition be our watchword,
Love and duty we’ll employ.Let us banish drink forever,
That has caused so much distress; With a mighty stroke now sever
Evils we have once caressed.
With our franchise we determine
What our future course shall be; Let us don the pure white ermine
Of the loyal, brave and free.Parowan, Iron County, Utah, July 5, 1916
J. S. P. Bowler
While pondering over mans estate.
The bills that he must meet,
I pause and wonder at his fate,
Though life seems fairly sweet.The first bill comes right at his birth,
Then seventy times and seven,
He pays for all he gets on earth,
Then pays to go to heaven.Lo here, lo there, lo everywhere,
His bills are always due,
For if he must lifes pleasure share
Its burdens he renews.Will man forever go the pace
To gratify his will?
Or will he enter in the race
That always pays its bills?The answer comes lifes path is clear
Your mission bravely fill
Be firm and true yea scorn to fear
The other fellows bill.J. S. P. Bowler
If ever you get lonely and think you’ve got the blues
Just make a resolution that you’re the one to choose
Don’t blame the world no never, don’t let humbug rule
For I was taught that lesson before I went to school.They used to call it humbug but now they call it fad
But call it whatsoever, it surely is a cad
It makes one feel so restless it acts upon the brain
You wish that you were somewhere ne’er to come back again.It’s mostly when it’s cloudy or when it’s going to rain
Or when someone’s expected and don’t try to explain
Gee Haw or turn around or do anything to please
But never go to grumbling, sit quietly at ease.When I was in Virginia I heard the old folks say
The remedy for blues was to throw them right away
You bet I did take notice when off alone somewhere
The blues or blacks went skulking or flying through the air.Sometimes a lonesome feeling would get the best of me
If I would Sit a wishing someone would comfort be
No use to e’er be looking through gloomy vacant eyes
Our happiness on earth is nearer than the sky.In Uncle Sam’s domain in this great world of ours
Every mortal being should use their noblest powers
Darkest days and sunshine may come and go for aye
Banish morbid sentiment and turn our night to day.By J. S. P. Bowler
Why kill those pretty birds- They have a right to live
And they are useful too- What reason can you give
A story I will tell- I heard it long ago
Or read it in a book- Not in a picture show.Has it not been said Do not kill the birds- and yet
That doleful sound we hear To-wit To-wit To-wit
O let us here repeat may our appeal be heard
For pity’s sake don’t kill the useful pretty bird.See how they build their home a marvel to be sure
They try to hide from harm and make their nest secure
So busily they strive to seek destroying pest
What could we ever do if they were laid to rest.They sing for us all day and even while we sleep
We hear their happy song 0 do not make them weep
Does not the Bible state the sparrow may not fall
Then kindly treat the birds let us protect them all.Methinks I hear our boys join in a chorus sweet
We will not kill the birds- tell everyone you meet
Hurrah brave boys hurrah choice blessings you shall share
What you decide shall echo wide and heed our prayer.By J. S. P. Bowler, Gunlock, Utah
May 4th, 1904 to May 4th, 1926
Twenty-two years today my commission arrived
Many changes have occurred and still I survive
How the time has sped along not by tempest tossed
Everything accounted for not a package lost.My office sign plainly show service it has done
The beaten path gives evidence many feet have come
A welcome here await them all from youth to age
Careful prompt attention marked on every page.Duty is my watchword no special favors shown
Each and every article handed to their own
Thus with mutual interest friendship and accord
Our business has progressed and brought its own reward.My motto for our future vigilance and care
Health and peace attend us confidence to share
May we be united sailing down lifes stream
Prompt where duty calls us harmony supreme.J. S. P. Bowler (Postmaster) Gunlock, Utah
Hitting days of childhood how pleasantly they glide
Filled with vivid fancy vast as the ocean wide
Boundless aspirations follow in there train
Changing scenes each moment attract the active brain.Restless animation paint picturesque design
Healthful exercises gracefully benign
Playful hopeful cheerful and helpful too withal
Crowned with youthful beauty and virtue best of all.Optimistic orbits illuminate our path
Representing pictures resembling lithograph
Inviting perseverance till we reach the goal
Highest marks of honor the anchor of the soul.Delightful is the setting precious time well spent
On our way rejoicing we build our monument
Parents- teachers bless us guide, direct aright
Youthful days still fleeting crown with pure delight.For our Gunlock School, April 23, 1926
By J. S. P. Bowler Gunlock, Utah
They’re all at home, the dear old home,
Where they’ve lived for many years,
The house is full of mirth and fun,
Of mirth that knows no fears.The table’s set for them each day,
The children all meet there;
As they kneel at night to pray,
They’re free from strife and care.The future, like the past, seems bright,
No troubled thought appears
And thus in peaceful sleep each night,
They pass through blissful years.Their waking hours fresh joys bring forth,
They chant their morning song;
They learn to know what life is worth,
Protected from all wrong.The dearest ties still bind them there,
In cheerfulness and glee;
The scene is fair, yes very fair,
For Christian eyes to see.By J. S. P. Bowler Gunlock, Utah
Yes, our dear girl this is for you
Specially penned for your review
Do not wonder or think it strange
That these few lines are thus arranged.Your birth was launched on troubled seas
When earthquake shook the stoutest trees
A beacon light still brightly shone
To calm and hold you as her own.Your life has been an open book
That all may read who calmly look
For there we truly find inscribed
True linemarks of a noble mind.From year to year you journeyed on
With prospects fair to look upon
The light of truth your guiding star
Point brightly on to scenes afar.When in after years you found
That you with choicest gifts are crowned
Your guardian angel led you on
To lofty heights you now have won.The future now is brighter still
With steadfast faith you may fulfill
All that God has designed for you
Is yours be hopeful firm and true.By Grandfather J. S. P. Bowler Gunlock, Utah
Nov. 27-1925
Feb. 27, 1879--Feb. 27, 1931
(Birthday Poem for Son, Francis Joseph)Early one morn a voice was heard
Before the dawn of day
Awake this cannot be deferred
Get up without delay.O dear must I get up so soon
Why do you urge me so?
I say get up you crazy loon
For Doctor Buckle go.Airight if that is what you mean
Why surely I’m the man
I’m off at once for lady queen
Be calm and off I ranI rang the bell- had to repeat
Doctor you’re wanted quick
At Number 2 in Henry Street
My wife is very sick.The good old Doctor came and then
A baby boy was born.
We named him Francis Joseph when
With Easter robes adorned.He crossed the sea e’er 2 years old
And learned the golden rule
Among the chosen now enrolled
In lifes enlightened school.To Son From Father
To My Daughter, Florence Matilda, On Her 54th Birthday
My dear Florence, Our Baby Girl
No longer is your hair in curl.
But rather it is streaked with gray
On this your 54th glad birthday.Early in childhood, you bid adieu-
To your native land-fair to view
Braving dangers on land and sea,
To dwell in quiet amity.The desert wild, so strange to you
With sage-bush, campfire boundless view
Adapting you to present mode,
A foretaste of your new abode.Hebron is reached, Saturday night,
Tired, sleepy, but where is the light?
Hastily spreading quilts on the floor
You slept that night as ne’er before.Morning dawned in your new abode
With, Indian wigwam, across the road
For Sunday School you soon prepare
Welcome greetings await you there.So life’s journey beacons you on,
Subject to changes here and yon,
Children, grandchildren greet you now;
Greatest prize of marriage vow.By J. S. P. Bowler Gunlock, Utah
(Taken from Albert Henry Truman Family History, Page 33)
To My Numerous Posterity Upon The Death Of My Mother
Retrospective scenes of childhood vividly impress the mind,
Scenes recurring true to nature in my musing here defined
Happy home with saintly mother true devotion soulful theme
Godly precepts held before me truth and virtue reigned supreme.Wealth’s allurement then presented outward form of higher sphere
Where I dwelt in stately mansion idolized by kindred dear
Priestly subtile intervention interpose rentless sway
Fickle fortune vaunted treasure like the sunbeams pass away.Time reveal momentious changes varied forms appear to view
Idealism aspiration bid me vanity eschew
I was called to mourn most deeply- I must pause ere I portray
My darkest hour deepest sorrow mothers spirit passed away. Part 2
This picture partly represent a scene of wide renown
The Abbey-Meadow-River SOAR and wall that on them frown
I humbly knelt upon the sod in that sequestered spot
Where buttercup and daisy grew and wild forgetmenot.Alone in meditative mood I breathed a fervent prayer
Heavenly father guide my feet from danger and despair
A sound as from the silent tomb or from the realms above
Then seemed to whisper in my ear my child our God is love.The meadow lark with rapture soared majestically on high
Which to my pensive troubled soul brought forth a parting sigh
Farewell Mother though I wander henceforth to scenes a far
Happy moments be my portion and thou my guiding star.By J. S. P. Bowler Gunlock, Utah
Upon The Death Of Grandson, James Bowler Pulsipher, 1890
We laid his body down to rest
Within the silent tomb
His spirit is now with the blest
He whispers will you comeWe loved our boy-we love him still
O yes we’ll meet again
When we have done our Father’s will
And final rest obtainThis hope alone should cheer us on
Through earths tempestuous sea
That we may dwell where he has gone
Through all eternity.Grandpa Bowler
Recorded 20th Jan. 1891
Peaceful Sleep
Upon The Death Of Grandson, Ernest PulsipherEarnest, we bid you a silent farewell,
Though naught can your form efface.
In realms of light your spirit doth dwell,
While sleeping here in death’s embrace.He died as he had lived, faithful and true,
His life fit example to all.
Nobly unselfish, alert to pursue
The pathway where duty should call.Patient, enduring, steadfast withal,
Though constantly tortured with pain.
His fortitude held when most would appall,
While strength must gradually wane.Peacefully sleep near those loved ones on earth,
Who cling to you, e’en the last breath.
Your mission fulfilled, redound with its worth
Through Him who hath conquered death.J. S. P. Bowler Gunlock, Utah, Jan. 18, 1921
Mother
On The Death Of His Daughter,
Mary A. Leavitt, March 13. 1921Lend, lend your wings, I mount, I fly,
Her spirit wafts-its flight on high,
To join those loved ones gone before,
And dwell with them forevermore.
Mother, we miss your presence here,
Our footsteps guide to that blest sphere.Memory recalls long anxious years;
Joy and sorrow alternate tears.
Dauntless thought o’er taxed with care.
Devoted love shone brightly there.
Seventeenth Grace of Maternity,
Exalted state in eternity.Make known, 0 Lord, Thine own decree.
May we Thy righteous purpose see.
With prayerful hearts we now draw nigh;
Hear Thou our prayer and justify.
Divinely grant Thy spirit’s power;
Console our minds this trying hour.Prophetic vision penetrate;
Define man’s future grand estate.
That all-absorbing light bestow
On seeking mortals here below.
Unlock the truth, Thyself the key;
O Grave, where is thy victory?J. S. P. Bowler, Gunlock, Utah
To Mr. & Mrs. William Hall, Sr. Aug., 2lst,1909,
Upon The Death of Their Beloved Daughter.A sweet scented rose in the spring time,
Was plucked all too soon from its bower;
It faded like mist in the sunshine;
Its life seemed but one passing hour.The flowers that bloom are but tokens
Of lifes changing scenes day by day.
Reminders of words that were spoken;
That all earthly ties pass away.Our mission on earth is before us,
Ordained by our father on high,
His love spreads its mantle around us
Then why should we murmur or sigh.The darkest of nights hath a dawning,
By faith we now see its glad rays,
We soon shall behold the bright morning
And live in that beautiful day.
Over mountain, plain and ocean-come the sounds of festive cheer,
Christian homes, with true devotion-catch the echo far and near.
Ties of friendship, happy greeting-find responsive answer, when
All unite, with love repeating-”Peace on earth, good will to men.”Prancing steed with sleigh-bells ringing-dashing over crystal snow,
Cheerful voices carols singing-all the landscape in a glow;
Distant sounds of church bells pealing-over rural hill and glen
Christmas-tide to all revealing-”Peace on earth, good will to men.”While the Yule fire’s brightly burning-decorate the shapely tree.
Gladsome eyes, with patience, yearning-for their gifts with ecstasy.
Spacious hall and humble dwelling-filled with fond delight, will then
Join the chorus loudly swelling-”Peace on earth, good will to men.”Silent gestures mark the token-plaything-picture-vacant chair-,
Anxious words of hope are spoken-for the absent one so dear.
Vespers guide the faltering footsteps-lead them from life’s gloomy fen,
Oh! Revive those early precepts, “Peace on earth, good will to men.”Youth and age again united-heart to heart they now confide;
Brighter sparks of hope are lighted-peace and filial love abide.
Could such scenes remain unbroken-’ twold be Eden here to ken;
Naught but kindly words be spoken-”Peace on earth, good will to men.”Christian’s hope, most priceless treasure-springing forth from Galilee,
Love and mercy, without measure-Gracious gifts to all so free.
Hail, Messiah! King of glory-usher in Thy peaceful reign!
Sound anew the blissful story-”Peace on earth, good will to men.”By J. S. P. Bowler Gunlock, Utah.
Hark! Christmas chimes repeat
Excelling notes they raise,
While friends each other greet
With gratitude and praise.The theme breathes peace on earth
As with angelic voice;
With freedom’s priceless worth
Well may the world rejoice.The anthem swells anew
And shall resound for aye;
Bring peace on earth to view
And christian light display.Our happy homes most dear
In this most favored land,
With peace and plenty cheer
As if by magic wand.By J. S. P. Bowler
Hurrah! Hurrah! Let’s give a cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year;
It comes as in the good, old time
With songs of mirth and love devine;
Christmas tide returns again,
Peace on earth, good will to men.Hark! There is music in the air,
Yes, joyful tidings everywhere;
So merrily the sleigh bells ring
And cheerfully our voices sing;
Christmas tide returns again,
Peace on earth, good will to men.Of all the seasons in the year,
Heart and heart should now draw near;
While angels chant the sacred theme
Let love and friendship reign supreme;
Christmas tide returns again,
Peace on earth good will to men.Our hearts are full of joy today,
As free will gifts we now display;
Herein we prove unselfish love,
Type of that gift sent from above;
Christmas tide returns again,
Peace on earth good will to men.J. S. P. Bowler
With New Year’s greeting, welcome her dawn,
Bright be thy advent-new era born.
Should aught assail its fair display
Disperse the dark shadows for aye.Statesmen beware, great issues await,
Guard well our bulwark-grand ships of state.
Foes from without and traitors within
Envy our freedom, wealth and kin.Future, advancement preclude the dark past,
Onward our motto-nailed to the mast.
Blessed birthright, honored domain,
Righteous dominion we’ll maintain.Our mission, true friendship, none can deny,
Faithful adherents none can decry.
Fraternally, dignified, bold,
The world our neighbor manifold.Thus be it ever, home of the free,
Best favored land of true liberty.
Rule or ruin clans we decry,
Our stars and stripes float on high.J. S. P. Bowler
There is beauty all around,
Or there should be;
There is joy in every sound,
Hearts filled with glee.
Now we hail the bright new year
Where e’re we roam;
Naught can make this world so dear
As home sweet home.Joyful tidings echo round
From over there;
With our loved ones homeward bound
Who may despair.
Hush, a pent up sigh is heard,
Sad epitome;
One return must be deferred
At home sweet home.Fortitude will solace bring,
Time swiftly glides;
Undue sorrow now take wing,
Future provides.
Brighter days are yet in store,
Fresh hope must come;
Passing scenes return no more
With all at home.J. S. P. Bowler
Spring with all her graceful flowers
Brighten glen or shady bowers
With her various rainbow hue,
Nature smiles revived anew.
Happy season warblers sing
Hail return of joyous spring.In the springtime of our youth
Sow the seeds of love and truth,
While the sunshine in the soul
Seek to gain the highest goal.
Tuneful voices sweetly sing
Hail return of joyous spring.As each springtime doth advance
With its changes--still perchance
Fragrant blossoms still remain,
Cheering all on life’s domain.
All creation join and sing
Hail return of joyous spring.---J. S. P. Bowler
Mocking birds with plumage fair
Carol in the midnight air.
Tuneful songsters vigil keep
Gleefully while nature sleeps.
Echoes ring o’er vale and glen,
Verdant summer gleams again.Varied seasons roll around,
Scenes of pleasure here abound.
Earth with countless lovely flowers,
Limpid streams and shady bowers.
Maidenhair and marigold
Quaintly now their tints unfold.Youth and age on hill and plain
Gladly view the ripening grain.
Sunbeams brighten cloudless sky,
Splendor reigns without alloy.
Naught should mar or e’er efface
Natures lovely smiling face.Joyfully time glides along
With creation’s gladsome song.
Priceless treasures thus arrayed,
Heavens choicest gifts displayed.
Mundane happiness replete,
Grateful souls each other greet.J. S. P. Bowler