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Title: Lines On Leaving Fryup, In Search Of Work
Author: John Castillo [
More Titles by Castillo]
I’m sorry, Fryup! thee to leave,
But thou deniest what I crave,
Though I have ask’d with tears!
Oft have I drunk at thy pure rills,
And labour’d ’mongst thy moorland hills,
For many toilsome years!
’Twas oft to me a painful task,
Thine aid in time of need to ask,
So often sought before;
And many times my small demand,
Was torn, as with a trembling hand,
Reluctant from thy store!
Oft have I rang’d thy verdant woods,
Where roses bursting from their buds,
Have struck my wondering eye!
And oft have I thy woodbines cropt:—
While from my hand the sweet flowers dropt,
I’ve thought,—I too must die!
Here, with each morning’s early dawn,
I lov’d to walk the flowery lawn,
To hear thy warblers sing!
Or when at eve their songs were mute,
I’ve sooth’d my fancy with my flute,
And made thy woodlands ring!
I’ve seen thy mountains clad with snow,
While shelter’d in the vale below,
’Midst hospitable friends!
For all their kindnesses to me,
May Heav’n bless every family,
And make them full amends!
But trade is now so dull and dead,
A man can hardly earn his bread,
In winter’s frost and snow:
So I must take my staff in hand,
And travel to some distant land,
Till here more plenty grow!
I grieve to leave the Sunday School,
Where I with gratitude of soul,
Have taught with great delight,
The youthful, rising sons of men,
To steer safe past the gulf of sin,
By glorious gospel light.
With men of understanding heart,
I always joy’d to act my part,
Where I may teach no more:—
Where I, myself have oft been taught,
And blessings gain’d beyond my thought,
From Heaven’s bounteous store!
As when the sailor points the keel,
For ancient Greenland’s icy field,
So I my course must steer!
I need assistance at the helm,
Lest life’s rough sea should overwhelm
My soul,—no harbour near!
For quicksands and contrary winds,
And enemies as well as friends,
I still expect to find:
There is a Friend who lives above,
To all who do His precepts love,
He proves both true and kind!
To Him I will address my prayer;
My little bark unto His care,
With confidence I’ll trust!
A steady course, O may I steer,
And if to Him I prove sincere,
He’ll land me safe at last!
[The end]
John Castillo's poem: Lines On Leaving Fryup, In Search Of Work
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