MAY the Rose of England fairer blow,
And Scotland’s thistle taller grow;
May Erin’s shamrock brighter shine,
And Cambria’s leek with all entwine,
To form a votive wreath to lie
On Freedom’s breast, where all would die.—M.
Here’s all that I wish thee,
Great, glorious and free,
First flower of the earth,
And first gem of the sea.—Moore.
Here’e to the land of the shamrock so green;
Here’s to each lad and his darling colleen;
Here’s to the ones we love dearest and most,
And may God save old Ireland! an Irishman’s toast.
To “Scotia!” my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health and peace and sweet content.—Burns.
We toast ye, the nicht, the hill and the heather,
The land o’ the bonnet, the plaid and the feather,
The land o’ the mountain, the stream, and the river,
The land of our ancestors, Scotland for ever!
G. W. McLaren.
Here’s to the Principality of Wales,
Her native wealth, her lovely hills and dales,
Her gift of song, her harp of honoured name,
Her olden industries, her ancient fame.—M.
Now we pledge the hundred Englands
Up and down the sea,
And the spirit that can bring lands—
Federated—Free—
Into one Imperial Union
For the good of all,
Strong in brotherly communion
Let what will befall.—M.
We all are English, though new Melbourne poses
Upon Port Phillip as a southern queen,
And old, in dells of Derbyshire still dozes
A fit handmaiden for a rustic scene.
We all are English, born in one great union
Of blood and language, history and song,
All English, and to cherish our communion
We should present a common front to wrong.
Douglas Staden.
Here’s to the land of the rock and the pine;
Here’s to the land of the raft and the river;
Here’s to the land where the sunbeams shine,
And the night is bright with the north light’s quiver.
Here’s to the buckwheat that smokes on her board;
Here’s to the maple that sweetens her story;
Here’s to the scythe that she swings like a sword,
And here’s to the fields where she gathers her glory.—W. Wye Smith.
May Peace for evermore abide,
And nothing but the sea divide.—M.
Our ancient foe, our modern friend,
So may she bide until the end.—M.
Two sturdy comrades scorning jealous fears,
So may we weather all succeeding years.—M.
To Freedom—everywhere it holds its own,
By cot or castle, ingleside or throne.—M.
Here’s to the debt we can never pay—For the care of childhood, the counsel of youth, and the love of a lifetime.
Duty’s toast—above all others,
All upstanding, boys—Your Mothers.—M.
Here’s to the Home—A man’s kingdom, a child’s paradise, and a woman’s world.
Where love builds a nest there is ever a home,
And the head on the breast has no longing to roam.—M.
May we all draw prizes in the lottery of marriage, and find in true companionship the secret of happy life.
Here’s to the girl with the heart and smile
Who makes this bubble of life worth while.
Here’s to Love—the only fire against which there is no. insurance.
Here’s to Love—a thing divine,
Description makes it but the less;
’Tis what we feel but can’t define,
’Tis what we know but can’t express.
May the sunshine of plenty dispel the clouds of care, and the hand of prudence steer clear of the rocks of disaster.
As we sail on the sea of emotion,
Whenever, wherever we roam,
May our joys be as deep as the ocean,
Our sorrows as light as its foam.—M.
Here’s to this little world of ours, which is not growing worse to the men and women who are doing their best to make it better.
It’s not so bad a world as some would make it, And, whether good or ill, is how we take it.—M.
May we draw upon content for the deficiencies of Fortune, and learn to be frugal without the teachings, of necessity.
Then fortune will serve to a tittle,
Though wealth may be never increased,
Contentment, will find in a little,
Enough is. as good as a feast.—M.
Here’s to Riches without pride, and Poverty without meanness.
An accident, a lucky star
May lead us to the Abbey’s niches,
Not what we have, but what we are,
Is the imperishable riches.—Pomeroy.
May we look forward to better things without disparaging the things that are, and may the thorns of life only give us a greater love for its flowers.
Here’s to the heart that beats the same
Whether it win or lose the game.—M.
Here’s to a strong Fleet for Home Defence; Companionship in harbour, Comradeship on the high seas, and Friendship at every port.
When friendship, love, and truth abound
Among a band of brothers,
The cup of joy goes gaily round,
Each shares the bliss of others. . . .
On halcyon wings our moments pass,
Life’s cruel cares beguiling,
And Time lays down his scythe and glass,
In glad good humour smiling.
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth.
Montgomery.
May we cherish friendship with a jealous care, and ever keep strict guard over the avenues of suspicion.
Here’s health to all those that I love,
And health to all those that love me.
Here’s health to all those that love those that I love
And all those that love those that love me.
Here’s to the memories of the past, the joys of the present, and the hopes of time to come.
A health to the future, a sigh for the past.
We love to remember, we hope to the last,
And for all the bare lies that the almanacs hold.
While we’ve youth in the heart, we can never grow old. G. W. Holmes.