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David Barker.



Take back your leaf again

Why make the tear-drop start;

Why plant this weary pain

Like daggers in my heart?

Take back your leaf again,

Why drain my drop of bliss;
Why madden up my brain
With such a type as this?

I knew our joys had fled,

I knew your faith was brief;
I knew my love was dead,-
Dead like this withered leaf.



DAVID BARKER, Esq., was born in the town of Exeter, on the ninth day of September, 1846. He commenced life a poor boy, with only such advantages for an education as were afforded by small country towns, at that time, in their public schools, yet with the same indomitable and praiseworthy self-exertion and perseverance that have marked his later years, he devoted himself to a course of self-education, and by a thorough and arduous research, acquired what was then considered a superior education. Slowly, but surely, he worked his way along learning a little here, and earning a little there—until he became a law student in the office of the Hon. Samuel Cony, who was then in practice at Exeter. Mr. Barker pursued the study of law until his course was finished, and then, in order to be able to commence the practice of it, taught school for a few years, by which occupation he acquired means enough to open an office in his native town, which he did in 1844, and has since remained there, practicing as much as his health would admit. Many of his poems are but a true index to the character of their author, and come from his heart, spontaneously, like the gushing forth of water from a spring; among these are Try Again,' Solace for Dark Hours,' and 'Make Your Mark;' which possess true every-day-life poetry, and find an echo in every enterprising breast.

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Mr. Barker is a man of feeble health, although vigorous in mind, and one whose life has been full of bodily suffering, which has prevented him from engaging extensively in active business life. This, with the hardships and trials through which he has fought his way up the rugged path of life, reflect the highest credit upon his talent, energy, and indomitable perseverance, which have been fostered by no encouraging influence or wealth, but by hard struggling and poverty.


SHOULD your cherish'd purpose fail,
Never falter, swerve, nor quail;

Nerve the arm and raise the hand,
Fling the outer garments by,
With a dauntless courage stand,
Shouting forth the battle cry!
Try again!

Is your spirit bowed by grief,
Rally quick, for life is brief;
Every saint in yonder sphere,
Borne through tribulation here,
Whispers in the anxious ear
Of each mortal in despair,
Try again!

What though stricken to the earth,
Up, man, as from a second birth;
Yonder flower beneath the tread,
Struggling when the foot has gone,
Rising feebly in its bed,

Tells the hopeless looker-on,
Try again!

Guided by the hand of Right,
With Hope's taper for a light,
With a destiny like ours,
And that destiny to choose;
With such God-created powers,
And a heaven to gain or lose,
Try again.


A PURLING rill so small and weak.

Once nearly died upon its way, While running round the sea to seek, Upon a summer's day.

But soon a cloud hung o'er that rill,

And soon came down an autumn rain, When quick it danced by vale and hill Restored to strength again.

So pilgrim, though your sky should lower,

Though sorrow's storms should come at length,

Yet God may clothe that storm with power

To give you strength.

It is not best that all should live

'Mid peaceful gales-'neath sunny skies, For cloud and tempest often give

Rich blessings in disguise..

The seaman's bark, whose bellied sail

The storm has drenched and wind has fill'd,

To reach its destined port might fail

If storm and wind were still'd. And thus our barks may quicker find,

Though long of angry waves the sport, Though dashed ahead by storm and wind, A final, peaceful port.

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