The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1904-09-01
BELFAST DOWN IN MAINE.

There's a pleasant village nesting on q
hillside far away
From the cares and hustle of the great
worlds strife;
Where they welcome give the stranger, in
the good old-fashiOned way,
Helping onward in this weary path Of
life;
Tho fortunes tickle favors have caused
me far to roam,
No other spot on earth will seem the
same,
For twas there l spent my childhood's
hours, my boyhood'S happy home,
Near the quiet town of Belfast down in
Maine.
There spring clothes the land with YER
dure, and midst the green the flow
Breathe rich perfume and rear their mod
est heads;
The moist leaves greenly glimmer from
passing April showers,
And riOtous brooks rush madly from
their beds;
All nature rOuSes gaily from her restful
winter sleep,
The feathered songsters sing in glad re-
frain,
And bright and gladstone faces, show Joy
that's full and deep,
When springtime comes at Belfast down
in Maine.
In the SOluon summer SuuSulue
bees mid flowers gay
Make music soft in passing to and fro;
From affair across the lowlands come the
breath of new mOWn hay,
And the murmur of the river, soft. and
low;
AS the evening shadows lengthen and all
cares are laid aside,
Then the sound of singing comes in joy
Gus strains,
From DER the mOOnlit waters where the
boating parties glide,
In the summertime at Belfast down in
Maine.
Comes the autumn with its colors, golden,
crimson, russell, brown,
Flinging flashing jets OF light on every
side;
Covering in matchless spleador forest, ham,
LET grove and town
With laafy carpet reaching lar and
From the hillsides and the valleys come the
sound of voices clear,
AS the farmers CLEAN the ripened, SHIN
mering grain,
Gathering in a bounteous harvest ere the
winter chill and drear,
In its icy grasp holds Belfast down in
Maine.
When winter with its piercing winds and
feathery mantle white
Has covered grove and woodland, vale
and hili
| And with cold and stubborn grasp in icy
locks holds tight,
Each separate lake and river, pond and
rill.
Coasting on the dOuble-runners down the
long steep hills we glide,
While our joyful shouts re-echoed back
again,
From the feeting white winged phantoms
skimming Ger the frozen tide,
OF the harbor of old Belfast down in
Maine.
I've visited the northern lakes and travelled
southern lands
Have watched the waves break on the
western shore;
Have seen our mighty mountains capped
with their icy bands,
And heard the sound of great Niagara s
roar;
I've sailed the lordly Hudson by moonlight
and by day,
Have stopped at Newport fair of social
fame,
But none to mes so beautiful as the is
land dotted bay,
BY the side of which is Belfast down in
Maine.
| have seen fair English maidens with haiI
of golden brown,
And the Irish lass with eyes SO deeply
blue;
The charming piquant French girls, who
captivate the town,
The winsome Japs and German frauleins
too;
I've gazed into the lustrous eyes of south
ern Creole bellies,
Have listened oft to her who halls from
Spain,
But of all of those that have met none
suit me quite so well,
AS the girls knew at Belfast down il
Maine.
Tho many years may pass away ere AGAR
return,
And through strange and distant coun
tries may roam,
Yet for that neer forgotten spot my hear
shall ever yearn,
In memory of my well loved boyhood's
home;
And while others sing of days of yore and q
the heroes tell,
Whose names are written in the book OF
fame,
/ III tune my harp in simple lay to the place
| love SO well,
The dear old town of Belfast down il
Maine.
CHESTER BURTON PATTERSON.
Rheumatic.
When you've got the rheumatic
S'pOSe YOU know jeS' how it is