you would not say:
What have you to do with me?
You would not, would not turn away
Doubtingly and bitterly:

"But you would take my hand with your hand,
O my brother, if you only knew;
You would smile at me, you would understand,
You would call me brother as I call you!"

TO MY FRIEND SYDNEY JEPHCOTT,
WITH A COPY OF MY "POETICAL WORKS."

"Take with all my heart, friend, this,
The labour of my past,
Though the heart here hidden is
And the soul's eternities
Hold the present fast.

"Take it, still, with soul and heart,
Pledge of that dear day
When the shadows stir and start,
By the bright Sun burst apart--
_Young Australia_!"

TO E. L. ZOX. {89}
(_Melbourne_.)

We thank you for a noble work well done.
There is a kindness--('tis the truer one;
The better part the simpler heart doth know),
The care to give the day a brighter sun

To these, the nameless crowd that drags on slow
The common toil, the common weary woe
The world cares nought for. But _your_ work secures
Thro' union strength and self-respect that grow.

There is a courage that unflawed endures
The sneer, the slander of earth's epicures.
And here are grateful women's hearts to show
This kindness and this courage, both are yours!

"FATHER ABE."
(_Song of the American Sons of Labour_.)

THE SONG.

"O we knew so well, dear Father,
When we answered to your call,
And the Southern Moloch stricken
Shook and tottered to his fall--

"O we knew so well you loved us,
And our hearts beat back to yours
With the rapturous adoration
That through all the years endures!

"Mothers, sisters bade us hasten
Sweethearts, wives with babe at breast;
For the Union, faith and freedom,
For our hero of the West!

"And we wrung forth victory blood-stained
From the desperate hands of Crime,
And our Cause blazed out Man's beacon
Through the endless future time!

"And forgiven, forever we bade it
Cease, that envy, hatred, strife,
As he willed, our murdered Father
That had sealed his love with life!

"O dear Father, was it thus, then?
Did we this but in a dream?
Is it real, hideous present?
Does our suffering only seem?

"Bend and listen, look and tell us!
Are these joyless toilers We?
Slaves more w