THE 



Canadian Horticulturist. 



Vol. XIV. 



1B91. 



No. I. 



1S9L 



(For the Canadian Horticulturist) 



IS midnight ! hear the solemn chime, 

 Which tells the ceaseless flight of Time, 

 Whose restless wings hath swept away 

 Old Ninety to Eternity ! 

 The hoary centuries now claim 

 Another link in Time's great chain, 

 And e're Aurora lights the morn, 

 The infant Ninety-one is born. 

 God bless the Royal, rosy boy ! 

 Child, we hope, of peace and joy ! 

 Hear chanticleer proclaim the birth 

 Of the great monarch of the earth, 

 And flaps his wings, to chase away 

 AU gloom from our good friendship's day. 

 Heed not the Cynic's hopeless moan. 

 That " naught but bitter herbs are grown," 

 Altho' by sorrow, low we 're laid, 

 There 's hidden blessings in the shade ! 

 And kindly doth " Our Father " stay 

 His rough wind, in the east wind's day; 



