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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Minor Poems, by Rossiter Johnson
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Minor Poems
Little Classics, Vol. 15
Editor: Rossiter Johnson
Release Date: November 15, 2010 [EBook #34331]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINOR POEMS ***
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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</pre>
<h3>Fifteenth Volume</h3>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<h1>LITTLE CLASSICS</h1>
<h3>EDITED BY</h3>
<h2>ROSSITER JOHNSON</h2>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<h2>Minor Poems</h2>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<h4>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br />
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br />
The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br />
1900</h4>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1875, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.<br />
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h5>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
<tr><td> </td><td> </td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AE_FOND_KISS"><span class="smcap">Ae Fond Kiss</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Burns</i></td><td align='right'>52</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_AGE_OF_WISDOM"><span class="smcap">Age of Wisdom, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Makepeace Thackeray</i></td><td align='right'>115</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_ARSENAL_AT_SPRINGFIELD"><span class="smcap">Arsenal at Springfield, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>146</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ASTARTE"><span class="smcap">Astarte</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Bulwer Lytton</i></td><td align='right'>54</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BETROTHED_ANEW"><span class="smcap">Betrothed Anew</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman</i></td><td align='right'>86</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_HIS_BLINDNESS"><span class="smcap">Blindness, On his</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Milton</i></td><td align='right'>143</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BRAVE_AT_HOME"><span class="smcap">Brave at Home, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Buchanan Read</i></td><td align='right'>142</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BREAK_BREAK_BREAK"><span class="smcap">Break, break, break</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>53</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_BRIDAL_DIRGE"><span class="smcap">Bridal Dirge, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Bryan Waller Procter</i></td><td align='right'>163</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BROOKSIDE"><span class="smcap">Brookside, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Richard Monckton Milnes</i></td><td align='right'>36</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BUGLE-SONG"><span class="smcap">Bugle-song</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>40</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CAVALIERS_SONG"><span class="smcap">Cavalier's Song, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Motherwell</i></td><td align='right'>132</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CHAMBERED_NAUTILUS"><span class="smcap">Chambered Nautilus, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i></td><td align='right'>214</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHANGES"><span class="smcap">Changes</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Bulwer Lytton</i></td><td align='right'>71</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CHILDRENS_HOUR"><span class="smcap">Children's Hour, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>152</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_CHRISTMAS_HYMN"><span class="smcap">Christmas Hymn, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Dommett</i></td><td align='right'>217</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CLOUD"><span class="smcap">Cloud, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Wilson</i></td><td align='right'>213</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#COME_REST_IN_THIS_BOSOM"><span class="smcap">Come, rest in this bosom</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>46</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CORONACH"><span class="smcap">Coronach</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td><td align='right'>133<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 6]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_COURTIN"><span class="smcap">Courtin', The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>James Russell Lowell</i></td><td align='right'>26</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DAYS_THAT_ARE_NO_MORE"><span class="smcap">Days that are no more, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>65</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DEATH-BED"><span class="smcap">Death-Bed, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Hood</i></td><td align='right'>160</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_THE_FLOWERS"><span class="smcap">Death of the Flowers, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></td><td align='right'>100</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#DEATHS_FINAL_CONQUEST"><span class="smcap">Death's Final Conquest</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>James Shirley</i></td><td align='right'>182</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#DIRGE_FOR_A_SOLDIER"><span class="smcap">Dirge for a Soldier</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>George Henry Boker</i></td><td align='right'>134</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#JOSEPH_RODMAN_DRAKE"><span class="smcap">Drake, Joseph Rodman</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Fitz-Greene Halleck</i></td><td align='right'>169</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#DRIVING_HOME_THE_COWS"><span class="smcap">Driving Home the Cows</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Kate Putnam Osgood</i></td><td align='right'>140</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_EAGLE"><span class="smcap">Eagle, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>105</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ENTICED"><span class="smcap">Enticed</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William C. Wilkinson</i></td><td align='right'>224</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EPILOGUE"><span class="smcap">Epilogue</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>The Editor</i></td><td align='right'>231</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EVELYN_HOPE"><span class="smcap">Evelyn Hope</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Browning</i></td><td align='right'>161</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_FAREWELL2"><span class="smcap">Farewell, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align='right'>199</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_FAREWELL1"><span class="smcap">Farewell, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>112</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_A_GIRDLE"><span class="smcap">Girdle, On a</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Edmund Waller</i></td><td align='right'>23</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#GOING_HOME"><span class="smcap">Going Home</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Benjamin F. Taylor</i></td><td align='right'>185</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD"><span class="smcap">Graves of a Household, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Felicia Hemans</i></td><td align='right'>174</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HAUNTED_HOUSES"><span class="smcap">Haunted Houses</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>73</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_HEALTH"><span class="smcap">Health, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Edward Coate Pinkney</i></td><td align='right'>21</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_HERMIT"><span class="smcap">Hermit, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>James Beattie</i></td><td align='right'>175</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HEROES"><span class="smcap">Heroes</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Edna Dean Proctor</i></td><td align='right'>144</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HIGHLAND_MARY"><span class="smcap">Highland Mary</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Burns</i></td><td align='right'>166</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOWS_MY_BOY"><span class="smcap">How's my Boy?</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Sydney Dobell</i></td><td align='right'>150</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HYMN_TO_THE_NIGHT"><span class="smcap">Hymn to the Night</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>103</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ICHABOD"><span class="smcap">Ichabod</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i></td><td align='right'>123</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_AN_INDIAN_GOLD_COIN"><span class="smcap">Indian Gold Coin, To an</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Leyden</i></td><td align='right'>183</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM"><span class="smcap">In Memoriam</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas K. Hervey</i></td><td align='right'>173<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 7]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#I_REMEMBER_I_REMEMBER"><span class="smcap">I Remember, I Remember</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Hood</i></td><td align='right'>72</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_IVY_GREEN"><span class="smcap">Ivy Green, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Dickens</i></td><td align='right'>90</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_KNIGHTS_TOMB"><span class="smcap">Knight's Tomb, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Samuel Taylor Coleridge</i></td><td align='right'>133</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#KUBLA_KHAN"><span class="smcap">Kubla Khan</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Samuel Taylor Coleridge</i></td><td align='right'>16</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_LAMENT"><span class="smcap">Lament, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley</i></td><td align='right'>192</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LAMENT_OF_THE_IRISH_EMIGRANT"><span class="smcap">Lament of the Irish Emigrant</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Lady Dufferin</i></td><td align='right'>158</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAND_OF_LANDS"><span class="smcap">Land of Lands, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>126</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL"><span class="smcap">Land o' the Leal, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Lady Nairne</i></td><td align='right'>156</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAST_LEAF"><span class="smcap">Last Leaf, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i></td><td align='right'>117</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER"><span class="smcap">Last Rose of Summer, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>111</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LIE"><span class="smcap">Lie, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Sir Walter Raleigh</i></td><td align='right'>204</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LIFE1"><span class="smcap">Life</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Anna Lætitia Barbauld</i></td><td align='right'>193</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LIFE2"><span class="smcap">Life</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry King</i></td><td align='right'>192</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LINES_ON_A_SKELETON"><span class="smcap">Lines on a Skeleton</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Anonymous</i></td><td align='right'>201</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LINES_TO_AN_INDIAN_AIR"><span class="smcap">Lines to an Indian Air</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley</i></td><td align='right'>42</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LITTLE_BLACK_BOY"><span class="smcap">Little Black Boy, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Blake</i></td><td align='right'>181</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LITTLE_YEARS"><span class="smcap">Little Years, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert T. S. Lowell</i></td><td align='right'>114</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LONG-AGO"><span class="smcap">Long-Ago, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Richard Monckton Milnes</i></td><td align='right'>88</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LOST_LEADER"><span class="smcap">Lost Leader, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Browning</i></td><td align='right'>119</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LOVE_NOT"><span class="smcap">Love Not</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Caroline Norton</i></td><td align='right'>51</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_LUCASTA"><span class="smcap">Lucasta, To</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Richard Lovelace</i></td><td align='right'>125</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MAID_OF_ATHENS_ERE_WE_PART"><span class="smcap">Maid of Athens, ere we part</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Lord Byron</i></td><td align='right'>45</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_MANGO_TREE"><span class="smcap">Mango Tree, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align='right'>59</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MANS_MORTALITY"><span class="smcap">Man's Mortality</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Simon Wastel</i></td><td align='right'>189</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MARIANA"><span class="smcap">Mariana</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>37</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_MARY_IN_HEAVEN"><span class="smcap">Mary in Heaven, To</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Bums</i></td><td align='right'>61<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 8]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MINSTRELS_SONG"><span class="smcap">Minstrel's Song</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Chatterton</i></td><td align='right'>171</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MONTEREY"><span class="smcap">Monterey</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Fenno Hoffman</i></td><td align='right'>128</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_THOMAS_MOORE"><span class="smcap">Moore, Thomas, To</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Lord Byron</i></td><td align='right'>110</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_MUSICAL_INSTRUMENT"><span class="smcap">Musical Instrument, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</i></td><td align='right'>11</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_CHILD"><span class="smcap">My Child</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Pierpont</i></td><td align='right'>154</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_HEID_IS_LIKE_TO_REND_WILLIE"><span class="smcap">My Heid is like to rend</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Motherwell</i></td><td align='right'>56</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_PSALM"><span class="smcap">My Psalm</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i></td><td align='right'>221</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_SLAIN"><span class="smcap">My Slain</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Richard Realf</i></td><td align='right'>219</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_NICE_CORRESPONDENT"><span class="smcap">Nice Correspondent, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Frederick Locker</i></td><td align='right'>24</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#NIGHT_AND_DEATH"><span class="smcap">Night and Death</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Joseph Blanco White</i></td><td align='right'>104</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#NOT_FAR_TO_GO"><span class="smcap">Not Far to Go</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Barnes</i></td><td align='right'>43</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE1"><span class="smcap">Ode</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Collins</i></td><td align='right'>139</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE2"><span class="smcap">Ode</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Theodore P. Cook</i></td><td align='right'>137</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE3"><span class="smcap">Ode</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Sir William Jones</i></td><td align='right'>148</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE4"><span class="smcap">Ode</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Timrod</i></td><td align='right'>136</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE_ON_A_GRECIAN_URN"><span class="smcap">Ode on a Grecian Urn</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Keats</i></td><td align='right'>199</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OFT_IN_THE_STILLY_NIGHT"><span class="smcap">Oft in the Stilly Night</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>64</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_OLD_FAMILIAR_FACES"><span class="smcap">Old Familiar Faces, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Lamb</i></td><td align='right'>66</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AN_OLD_MANS_IDYL"><span class="smcap">Old Man's Idyl, An</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Richard Realf</i></td><td align='right'>84</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_A_PICTURE_OF_PEEL_CASTLE_IN_A_STORM"><span class="smcap">On a Picture of Peel Castle</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Wordsworth</i></td><td align='right'>209</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OVER_THE_RIVER"><span class="smcap">Over the River</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Nancy Priest Wakefield</i></td><td align='right'>78</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#O_WHY_SHOULD_THE_SPIRIT_OF_MORTAL_BE"><span class="smcap">O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Knox</i></td><td align='right'>177</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_PAUPERS_DEATH-BED"><span class="smcap">Pauper's Death-Bed, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Caroline Bowles Southey</i></td><td align='right'>208</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_PETITION_TO_TIME"><span class="smcap">Petition to Time, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Bryan Waller Procter</i></td><td align='right'>122</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#PHILIP_MY_KING"><span class="smcap">Philip, my King</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</i></td><td align='right'>149</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#PROGRESS"><span class="smcap">Progress</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Robert Bulwer Lytton</i></td><td align='right'>179<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 9]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#QUA_CURSUM_VENTUS"><span class="smcap">Qua Cursum Ventus</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Arthur Hugh Clough</i></td><td align='right'>69</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_RIVER_PATH"><span class="smcap">River Path, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i></td><td align='right'>82</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ST_AGNES"><span class="smcap">St. Agnes</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>215</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SANDS_OF_DEE"><span class="smcap">Sands of Dee, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align='right'>102</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SERENADE"><span class="smcap">Serenade</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>41</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY"><span class="smcap">She died in beauty</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Doyne Sillery</i></td><td align='right'>164</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_IS_FAR_FROM_THE_LAND"><span class="smcap">She is far from the land</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>170</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_WALKS_IN_BEAUTY"><span class="smcap">She walks in beauty</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Lord Byron</i></td><td align='right'>34</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_WAS_A_PHANTOM_OF_DELIGHT"><span class="smcap">She was a phantom of delight</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Wordsworth</i></td><td align='right'>18</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_WAS_NOT_FAIR_NOR_FULL_OF_GRACE"><span class="smcap">She was not fair, nor full of grace</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Bryan Waller Procter</i></td><td align='right'>165</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SKYLARK"><span class="smcap">Skylark, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>James Hogg</i></td><td align='right'>104</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_THE_SKYLARK"><span class="smcap">Skylark, To the</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley</i></td><td align='right'>106</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SLANTEN_LIGHT_O_FALL"><span class="smcap">Slanten Light o' Fall, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Barnes</i></td><td align='right'>20</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SNOW-STORM"><span class="smcap">Snow-Storm, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Gamage Eastman</i></td><td align='right'>97</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM"><span class="smcap">Soldier's Dream, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Campbell</i></td><td align='right'>127</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONG"><span class="smcap">Song,—"The heath this night"</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td><td align='right'>124</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SONG_FOR_SEPTEMBER"><span class="smcap">Song for September, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas William Parsons</i></td><td align='right'>63</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SONG_OF_THE_CAMP"><span class="smcap">Song of the Camp, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Bayard Taylor</i></td><td align='right'>130</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONNETS"><span class="smcap">Sonnets</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Shakespeare</i></td><td align='right'>48</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SPINNING-WHEEL_SONG"><span class="smcap">Spinning-Wheel Song, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>John Francis Waller</i></td><td align='right'>32</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#STANZAS"><span class="smcap">Stanzas,—"My life is like the summer rose"</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Richard Henry Wilde</i></td><td align='right'>113</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SUMMER_LONGINGS"><span class="smcap">Summer Longings</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Denis Florence Mac-Carthy</i></td><td align='right'>91</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THANATOPSIS"><span class="smcap">Thanatopsis</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></td><td align='right'>75<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 10]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THEY_ARE_ALL_GONE"><span class="smcap">They are all gone</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Vaughan</i></td><td align='right'>80</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_THREE_FISHERS"><span class="smcap">Three Fishers, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align='right'>143</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_TIGER"><span class="smcap">Tiger, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Blake</i></td><td align='right'>96</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TIMES_CHANGES"><span class="smcap">Time's Changes</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>David Macbeth Moir</i></td><td align='right'>67</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TITHONUS"><span class="smcap">Tithonus</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>193</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOM_BOWLING"><span class="smcap">Tom Bowling</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Dibdin</i></td><td align='right'>168</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOO_LATE1"><span class="smcap">Too Late!</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</i></td><td align='right'>167</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOO_LATE2"><span class="smcap">Too Late</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Fitz-Hugh Ludlow</i></td><td align='right'>120</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOUJOURS_AMOUR"><span class="smcap">Toujours Amour</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman</i></td><td align='right'>228</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_TREASURES_OF_THE_DEEP"><span class="smcap">Treasures of the Deep, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Felicia Hemans</i></td><td align='right'>212</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TWO_WOMEN"><span class="smcap">Two Women</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Nathaniel Parker Willis</i></td><td align='right'>207</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_UNDISCOVERED_COUNTRY"><span class="smcap">Undiscovered Country, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman</i></td><td align='right'>220</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#VIRTUE"><span class="smcap">Virtue</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>George Herbert</i></td><td align='right'>203</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_VOICELESS"><span class="smcap">Voiceless, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i></td><td align='right'>229</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_VOYAGE"><span class="smcap">Voyage, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>13</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WEARINESS"><span class="smcap">Weariness</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>227</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_WELCOME"><span class="smcap">Welcome, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Davis</i></td><td align='right'>35</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WHEN_THE_KYE_COME_HAME"><span class="smcap">When the Kye come Hame</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>James Hogg</i></td><td align='right'>30</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_WOMAN_OF_THREE_COWS"><span class="smcap">Woman of Three Cows, The</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>James Clarence Mangan</i></td><td align='right'>196</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_WOMANS_QUESTION"><span class="smcap">Woman's Question, A</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>Adelaide Anne Procter</i></td><td align='right'>46</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#YARROW_UNVISITED"><span class="smcap">Yarrow Unvisited</span></a></td><td align='left'><i>William Wordsworth</i></td><td align='right'>93</td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 11]</span></p>
<h2><a name="A_MUSICAL_INSTRUMENT" id="A_MUSICAL_INSTRUMENT"></a>A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What was he doing, the great god Pan,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Down in the reeds by the river?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Spreading ruin and scattering ban,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And breaking the golden lilies afloat<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With the dragon-fly on the river.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From the deep cool bed of the river:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The limpid water turbidly ran,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the broken lilies a-dying lay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the dragon-fly had fled away,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere he brought it out of the river.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">High on the shore sat the great god Pan,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">While turbidly flowed the river;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And hacked and hewed as a great god can,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till there was not a sign of a leaf indeed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To prove it fresh from the river.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 12]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He cut it short, did the great god Pan,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">(How tall it stood in the river!)<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Steadily from the outside ring,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And notched the poor dry empty thing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In holes, as he sat by the river.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"This is the way," laughed the great god Pan<br /></span>
<span class="i1">(Laughed while he sat by the river),<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"The only way, since gods began<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To make sweet music, they could succeed."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He blew in power by the river.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Piercing sweet by the river!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sun on the hill forgot to die,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Came back to dream on the river.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To laugh as he sits by the river,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Making a poet out of a man:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The true gods sigh for the cost and pain,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the reed which grows nevermore again<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As a reed with the reeds in the river.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Elizabeth Barrett Browning.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 13]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_VOYAGE" id="THE_VOYAGE"></a>THE VOYAGE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We left behind the painted buoy<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That tosses at the harbor-mouth:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And madly danced our hearts with joy,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As fast we fleeted to the south:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How fresh was every sight and sound<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On open main or winding shore!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We knew the merry world was round,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And we might sail forevermore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Warm broke the breeze against the brow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lady's-head upon the prow<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Caught the shrill salt, and sheered the gale.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The broad seas swelled to meet the keel,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And swept behind: so quick the run,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We felt the good ship shake and reel,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We seemed to sail into the sun!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">How oft we saw the sun retire,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And burn the threshold of the night,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fall from his ocean-lane of fire,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And sleep beneath his pillared light!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How oft the purple-skirted robe<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of twilight slowly downward drawn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As through the slumber of the globe<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Again we dashed into the dawn!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">New stars all night above the brim<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of waters lightened into view;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 14]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">They climbed as quickly, for the rim<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Changed every moment as we flew.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Far ran the naked moon across<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The houseless ocean's heaving field,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or flying shone, the silver boss<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of her own halo's dusky shield;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The peaky islet shifted shapes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">High towns on hills were dimly seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We passed long lines of northern capes<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And dewy northern meadows green.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We came to warmer waves, and deep<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Across the boundless east we drove,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where those long swells of breaker sweep<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The nutmeg rocks and isles of clove.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Gloomed the low coast and quivering brine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With ashy rains, that spreading made<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Fantastic plume or sable pine;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By sands and steaming flats, and floods<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of mighty mouth, we scudded fast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And hills and scarlet-mingled woods<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Glowed for a moment as we passed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O hundred shores of happy climes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How swiftly streamed ye by the bark!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At times the whole sea burned, at times<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With wakes of fire we tore the dark;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At times a carven craft would shoot<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From havens hid in fairy bowers,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 15]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">With naked limbs and flowers and fruit,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But we nor paused for fruits nor flowers.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For one fair Vision ever fled<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Down the waste waters day and night,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And still we followed where she led<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In hope to gain upon her flight.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her face was evermore unseen,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And fixed upon the far sea-line;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But each man murmured, "O my Queen,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I follow till I make thee mine."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And now we lost her, now she gleamed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like Fancy made of golden air,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now nearer to the prow she seemed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like Virtue firm, like Knowledge fair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now high on waves that idly burst<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like Heavenly Hope she crowned the sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And now, the bloodless point reversed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She bore the blade of Liberty.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And only one among us,—him<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We pleased not,—he was seldom pleased:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He saw not far: his eyes were dim:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But ours he swore were all diseased.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"A ship of fools!" he shrieked in spite,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"A ship of fools!" he sneered and wept.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And overboard one stormy night<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He cast his body, and on we swept.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And never sail of ours was furled<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor anchor dropped at eve or morn;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 16]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">We loved the glories of the world,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But laws of nature were our scorn;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For blasts would rise and rave and cease,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But whence were those that drove the sail<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across the whirlwind's heart of peace,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And to and through the counter-gale?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Again to colder climes we came,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For still we followed where she led:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now mate is blind and captain lame,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And half the crew are sick or dead.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But blind or lame or sick or sound,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We follow that which flies before:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We know the merry world is round,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And we may sail forevermore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="KUBLA_KHAN" id="KUBLA_KHAN"></a>KUBLA KHAN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">In Xanadu did Kubla Khan<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A stately pleasure-dome decree<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where Alph, the sacred river, ran,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Through caverns measureless to man,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Down to a sunless sea.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So twice five miles of fertile ground<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With walls and towers were girdled round;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And there were gardens, bright with sinuous rills,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 17]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And here were forests ancient as the hills,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But oh! that deep romantic chasm, which slanted<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A savage place! as holy and enchanted<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By woman wailing for her demon-lover!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A mighty fountain momently was forced,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Amid whose swift, half-intermitted burst<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It flung up momently the sacred river.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Five miles, meandering with a mazy motion<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through wood and dale, the sacred river ran,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then reached the caverns measureless to man,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ancestral voices prophesying war.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">The shadow of the dome of pleasure<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Floated midway on the waves,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where was heard the mingled measure<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From the fountain and the caves.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was a miracle of rare device,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A damsel with a dulcimer<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In a vision once I saw;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 18]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was an Abyssinian maid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And on her dulcimer she played,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Singing of Mount Abora.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Could I revive within me<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her symphony and song,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To such a deep delight 'twould win me<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That, with music loud and long,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would build that dome in air,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That sunny dome! those caves of ice!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all who heard should see them there,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all should cry, Beware! beware<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His flashing eyes, his floating hair!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Weave a circle round him thrice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And close your eyes with holy dread,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For he on honey-dew hath fed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And drunk the milk of Paradise.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Samuel Taylor Coleridge.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SHE_WAS_A_PHANTOM_OF_DELIGHT" id="SHE_WAS_A_PHANTOM_OF_DELIGHT"></a>SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She was a phantom of delight<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When first she gleamed upon my sight;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A lovely apparition, sent<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To be a moment's ornament;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But all things else about her drawn<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From May-time and the cheerful dawn;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 19]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">A dancing shape, an image gay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To haunt, to startle, and waylay.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I saw her upon nearer view,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A spirit, yet a woman too!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her household motions light and free,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And steps of virgin-liberty;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A countenance in which did meet<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet records, promises as sweet;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A creature not too bright or good<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For human nature's daily food,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For transient sorrows, simple wiles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And now I see with eye serene<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The very pulse of the machine;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A being breathing thoughtful breath,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A traveller between life and death:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The reason firm, the temperate will,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A perfect woman, nobly planned<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To warn, to comfort, and command;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And yet a spirit still, and bright<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With something of an angel-light.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Wordsworth.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 20]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_SLANTEN_LIGHT_O_FALL" id="THE_SLANTEN_LIGHT_O_FALL"></a>THE SLANTEN LIGHT O' FALL.</h2>
<h4>(DORSET DIALECT.)</h4>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah! Jeane, my maid, I stood to you,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When you wer' christen'd, small an' light,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wi' tiny earms o' red an' blue,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A-hangen in your robe o' white.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We brought ye to the hallow'd stwone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Vor Christ to teake ye vor his own,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When harvest-work wer' all a-done,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' time brought round October zun,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The slanten light o' Fall.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An' I can mind the wind wer' rough,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An' gather'd clouds, but brought noo storms,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' you wer' nessled warm enough,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Ithin your smilen mother's earms.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The whindlen grass did quiver light,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Among the stubble, feaded white,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' if at times the zunlight broke<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon the groun', or on the vo'k,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Twer' slanten light o' Fall.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An' when we brought ye droo the door<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O' Knapton church, a child o' greace,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There cluster'd roun' a'most a score<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O' vo'k to zee your tiny feace.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' there we all did veel so proud,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To zee an op'nen in the cloud,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' then a stream o' light break droo,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 21]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">A-sheenen brightly down on you,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The slanten light o' Fall.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But now your time's a-come to stan'<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In church a-blushen at my zide,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The while a bridegroom vrom my han'<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ha' took ye vor his faithvul bride.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your christen neame we gi'd ye here,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Fall did cool the weasten year;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' now, agean, we brought ye droo<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The doorway, wi' your surneame new,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In slanten light o' Fall.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An' zoo vur, Jeane, your life is feair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An' God ha' been your steadvast friend,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' mid ye have mwore jay than ceare,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Vor ever, till your journey's end.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' I've a-watch'd ye on wi' pride,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But now I soon mus' leave your zide,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Vor you ha' still life's springtide zun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But my life, Jeane, is now a-run<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To slanten light o' Fall.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Barnes.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_HEALTH" id="A_HEALTH"></a>A HEALTH.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I fill this cup to one made up<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of loveliness alone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A woman, of her gentle sex<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The seeming paragon;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 22]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">To whom the better elements<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And kindly stars have given<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A form so fair, that, like the air,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Tis less of earth than heaven.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Her every tone is music's own,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like those of morning birds,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And something more than melody<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dwells ever in her words;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The coinage of her heart are they,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And from her lips each flows<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As one may see the burdened bee<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forth issue from the rose.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Affections are as thoughts to her,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The measures of her hours;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her feelings have the fragrancy,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The freshness of young flowers;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And lovely passions, changing oft,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So fill her, she appears<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The image of themselves by turns,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The idol of past years!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Of her bright face one glance will trace<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A picture on the brain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And of her voice in echoing hearts<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sound must long remain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But memory, such as mine of her,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So very much endears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When death is nigh my latest sigh<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will not be life's, but hers.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 23]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I fill this cup to one made up<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of loveliness alone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A woman, of her gentle sex<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The seeming paragon,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her health! and would on earth there stood<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Some more of such a frame,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That life might be all poetry,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And weariness a name.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Edward Coate Pinkney.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ON_A_GIRDLE" id="ON_A_GIRDLE"></a>ON A GIRDLE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That which her slender waist confined<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall now my joyful temples bind;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No monarch but would give his crown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His arms might do what this hath done.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It was my heaven's extremest sphere,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The pale which held that lovely deer:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did all within this circle move.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A narrow compass! and yet there<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Give me but what this ribbon bound,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Take all the rest the sun goes round!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Edmund Waller.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 24]</span></p>
<h2><a name="A_NICE_CORRESPONDENT" id="A_NICE_CORRESPONDENT"></a>A NICE CORRESPONDENT!</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The glow and the glory are plighted<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To darkness, for evening is come;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lamp in Glebe Cottage is lighted;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The birds and the sheep-bells are dumb.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'm alone at my casement, for Pappy<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is summoned to dinner at Kew:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'm alone, my dear Fred, but I'm happy,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'm thinking of you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I wish you were here. Were I duller<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Than dull, you'd be dearer than dear;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am dressed in your favorite color,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dear Fred, how I wish you were here!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am wearing my lazuli necklace,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The necklace you fastened askew!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Was there ever so rude or so reckless<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A darling as you?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I want you to come and pass sentence<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On two or three books with a plot;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of course you know "Janet's Repentance"?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'm reading Sir Waverley Scott,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The story of Edgar and Lucy,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How thrilling, romantic, and true;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The master (his bride was a goosey!)<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Reminds me of you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To-day, in my ride, I've been crowning<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The beacon; its magic still lures,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 25]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">For up there you discoursed about Browning,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That stupid old Browning of yours.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His vogue and his verve are alarming,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'm anxious to give him his due;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But, Fred, he's not nearly so charming<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A poet as you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I heard how you shot at The Beeches,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I saw how you rode Chanticleer,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have read the report of your speeches,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And echoed the echoing cheer.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's a whisper of hearts you are breaking,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I envy their owners, I do!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Small marvel that Fortune is making<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her idol of you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Alas for the world, and its dearly<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Bought triumph, and fugitive bliss!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sometimes I half wish I were merely<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A plain or a penniless miss;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But perhaps one is best with a measure<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of pelf, and I'm not sorry, too,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That I'm pretty, because it's a pleasure,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My dearest, to you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Your whim is for frolic and fashion,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Your taste is for letters and art;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This rhyme is the commonplace passion<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That glows in a fond woman's heart.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 26]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lay it by in a dainty deposit<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For relics,—we all have a few!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Love, some day they'll print it, because it<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was written to you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Frederick Locker.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_COURTIN" id="THE_COURTIN"></a>THE COURTIN'.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">God makes sech nights, all white an' still<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Fur'z you can look or listen.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All silence an' all glisten.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An' peeked in thru' the winder,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' there sot Huldy all alone,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Ith no one nigh to hender.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A fireplace filled the room's one side<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With half a cord o' wood in,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died)<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To bake ye to a puddin'.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Towards the pootiest, bless her!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' leetle flames danced all about<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The chiny on the dresser.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 27]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An' in amongst 'em rusted<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The ole queen's arm thet Gran'ther Young<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Fetched back from Concord busted.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The very room, coz she was in,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Seemed warm from floor to ceilin',<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' she looked full ez rosy agin<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ez the apples she was peelin'.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On sech a blesséd cretur.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A dog-rose blushin' to a brook<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ain't modester nor sweeter.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He was six foot o' man, Al,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Clean grit an' human natur';<br /></span>
<span class="i0">None couldn't quicker pitch a ton<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor dror a furrer straighter.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He'd sparked it with full twenty gals,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He'd squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All is, he couldn't love 'em.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But long o' her his veins 'ould run<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All crinkly like curled maple,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The side she breshed felt full o' sun<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ez a south slope in Ap'il.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ez hisn in the choir;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 28]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She <i>knowed</i> the Lord was nigher.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When her new meetin'-bunnet<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Felt somehow thru' its crown a pair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O' blue eyes sot upon it.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thet night, I tell ye, she looked <i>some</i>!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She seemed to 've gut a new soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For she felt sartin-sure he'd come,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Down to her very shoe-sole.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A-raspin' on the scraper,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All ways to once her feelin's flew<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like sparks in burnt-up paper.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He kin' o' l'itered on the mat,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Some doubtfle o' the sekle;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His heart kep' goin' pity-pat,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But hern went pity Zekle.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ez though she wished him furder,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' on her apples kep' to work,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Parin' away like murder.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?"<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Wal ... no ... I come dasignin'"—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Agin to-morrer's i'nin'."<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 29]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To say why gals acts so or so,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or don't, 'ould be presumin';<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mebby to mean <i>yes</i> an' say <i>no</i><br /></span>
<span class="i1">Comes nateral to women.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He stood a spell on one foot fust,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then stood a spell on t' other,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' on which one he felt the wust<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He couldn't ha' told ye nuther.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Says he, "I'd better call agin";<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Says she, "Think likely, Mister";<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thet last word pricked him like a pin,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An' ... Wal, he up an' kist her.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Huldy sot pale ez ashes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All kin' o' smily roun' the lips<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An' teary roun' the lashes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For she was jes' the quiet kind<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whose naturs never vary,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like streams that keep a summer mind<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Snowhid in Jenooary.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Too tight for all expressin',<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell mother see how metters stood,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And gin 'em both her blessin'.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 30]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then her red come back like the tide<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Down to the Bay o' Fundy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An' all I know is they was cried<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In meetin' come nex' Sunday.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>James Russell Lowell.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="WHEN_THE_KYE_COME_HAME" id="WHEN_THE_KYE_COME_HAME"></a>WHEN THE KYE COME HAME.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Come, all ye jolly shepherds,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That whistle through the glen!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll tell ye o' a secret<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That courtiers dinna ken:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What is the greatest bliss<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That the tongue o' man can name?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis to woo a bonnie lassie<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the kye come hame.<br /></span>
<span class="i3">When the kye come hame,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">When the kye come hame,—<br /></span>
<span class="i3">'Tween the gloamin' an' the mirk,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">When the kye come hame.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis not beneath the burgonet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor yet beneath the crown;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis not on couch o' velvet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor yet in bed o' down:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis beneath the spreading birk,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the glen without the name,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 31]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wi' a bonnie bonnie lassie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the kye come hame.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There the blackbird bigs his nest<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For the mate he lo'es to see,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And on the tapmost bough<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O, a happy bird is he!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There he pours his melting ditty,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And love is a' the theme;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And he'll woo his bonnie lassie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the kye come hame.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the blewart bears a pearl,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the daisy turns a pea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the bonnie lucken gowan<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Has fauldit up his ee,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then the laverock, frae the blue lift,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Draps down and thinks nae shame<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To woo his bonnie lassie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the kye come hame.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">See yonder pawky shepherd,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That lingers on the hill:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His yowes are in the fauld,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And his lambs are lying still;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet he downa gang to bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For his heart is in a flame,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To meet his bonnie lassie<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the kye come hame.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 32]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the little wee bit heart<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Rises high in the breast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the little wee bit starn<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Rises red in the east,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, there's a joy sae dear<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That the heart can hardly frame!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wi' a bonnie bonnie lassie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the kye come hame.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then since all nature joins<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In this love without alloy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, wha wad prove a traitor<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To nature's dearest joy?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or wha wad choose a crown,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wi' its perils an' its fame,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And miss his bonnie lassie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the kye come hame?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>James Hogg.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_SPINNING-WHEEL_SONG" id="THE_SPINNING-WHEEL_SONG"></a>THE SPINNING-WHEEL SONG.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Close by the window young Eileen is spinning;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bent o'er the fire, her blind grandmother, sitting,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is croaning, and moaning, and drowsily knitting,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"Eileen, achora, I hear some one tapping."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"'Tis the ivy, dear mother, against the glass flapping."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"Eileen, I surely hear somebody sighing."<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 33]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">"'Tis the sound, mother dear, of the summer wind dying."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the foot's stirring;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"What's that noise that I hear at the window, I wonder?"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"'Tis the little birds chirping the holly-bush under."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"What makes you be shoving and moving your stool on,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And singing all wrong that old song of 'The Coolun'?"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's a form at the casement,—the form of her true-love,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And he whispers, with face bent, "I'm waiting for you, love;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Get up on the stool, through the lattice step lightly,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We'll rove in the grove while the moon's shining brightly."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the foot's stirring;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The maid shakes her head, on her lip lays her fingers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Steals up from her seat,—longs to go, and yet lingers;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with the other.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Noiseless and light to the lattice above her<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The maid steps,—then leaps to the arms of her lover.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Slower—and slower—and slower the wheel swings;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lower—and lower—and lower the reel rings;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 34]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ere the reel and the wheel stop their ringing and moving,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the grove the young lovers by moonlight are roving.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Francis Waller.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SHE_WALKS_IN_BEAUTY" id="SHE_WALKS_IN_BEAUTY"></a>SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She walks in beauty like the night<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of cloudless climes and starry skies;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all that's best of dark and bright<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Meets in her aspect and her eyes;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thus mellowed to that tender light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Which heaven to gaudy day denies.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">One shade the more, one ray the less,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Had half impaired the nameless grace<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which waves in every raven tress,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or softly lightens o'er her face;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where thoughts serenely sweet express<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The smiles that win, the tints that glow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But tell of days in goodness spent,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A mind at peace with all below,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A heart whose love is innocent.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Lord Byron.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 35]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_WELCOME" id="THE_WELCOME"></a>THE WELCOME.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Come in the evening, or come in the morning;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Come when you're looked for, or come without warning;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O, your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed farmer,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then, wandering, I'll wish you, in silence, to love me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyry;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O, she'll whisper you, "Love, as unchangeably beaming,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As our souls flow in one down eternity's river."<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 36]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So come in the evening, or come in the morning:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Come when you're looked for, or come without warning;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Davis.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_BROOKSIDE" id="THE_BROOKSIDE"></a>THE BROOKSIDE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I wandered by the brookside,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I wandered by the mill;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I could not hear the brook flow,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The noisy wheel was still.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There was no burr of grasshopper,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No chirp of any bird,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the beating of my own heart<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was all the sound I heard.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I sat beneath the elm-tree:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I watched the long, long shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, as it grew still longer,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I did not feel afraid;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For I listened for a footfall,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I listened for a word,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the beating of my own heart<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was all the sound I heard.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 37]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He came not,—no, he came not,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The night came on alone,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The little stars sat one by one,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Each on his golden throne;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The evening wind passed by my cheek,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The leaves above were stirred,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the beating of my own heart<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was all the sound I heard.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fast, silent tears were flowing,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When something stood behind:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A hand was on my shoulder,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I knew its touch was kind:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It drew me nearer—nearer—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We did not speak one word,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the beating of our own hearts<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was all the sound we heard.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Richard Monckton Milnes.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MARIANA" id="MARIANA"></a>MARIANA.</h2>
<h4>"Mariana in the moated grange."—<i>Measure for Measure.</i></h4>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With blackest moss the flower-pots<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Were thickly crusted, one and all:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The rusted nails fell from the knots<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That held the peach to the garden-wall.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The broken sheds looked sad and strange:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Unlifted was the clinking latch:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Weeded and worn the ancient thatch<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon the lonely moated grange.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 38]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">She only said, "My life is dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">He cometh not," she said;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">I would that I were dead!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Her tears fell with the dews at even;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She could not look on the sweet heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Either at morn or eventide.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">After the flitting of the bats,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When thickest dark did trance the sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She drew her casement-curtain by,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And glanced athwart the glooming flats.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She only said, "The night is dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">He cometh not," she said;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">I would that I were dead!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Upon the middle of the night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The cock sung out an hour ere light:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From the dark fen the oxen's low<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Came to her: without hope of change,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn<br /></span>
<span class="i0">About the lonely moated grange.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She only said, "The day is dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">He cometh not," she said;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">I would that I were dead!"<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 39]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">About a stone-cast from the wall<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sluice with blackened waters slept,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And o'er it many, round and small,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The clustered marish-mosses crept.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hard by a poplar shook alway,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All silver-green with gnarléd bark:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For leagues no other tree did mark<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The level waste, the rounding gray.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She only said, "My life is dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">He cometh not," she said;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">I would that I were dead!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And ever when the moon was low,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the shrill winds were up and away,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the white curtain, to and fro,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She saw the gusty shadow sway.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But when the moon was very low,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And wild winds bound within their cell,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The shadow of the poplar fell<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon her bed, across her brow.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She only said, "The night is dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">He cometh not," she said;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">I would that I were dead!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">All day within the dreamy house,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The doors upon their hinges creaked;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The blue-fly sung i' the pane; the mouse<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or from the crevice peered about.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 40]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i1">Old faces glimmered through the doors,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Old footsteps trod the upper floors,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Old voices called her from without.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She only said, "My life is dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">He cometh not," she said;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">I would that I were dead!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The slow clock ticking, and the sound<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which to the wooing wind aloof<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The poplar made, did all confound<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her sense; but most she loathed the hour<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the thick-moted sunbeam lay<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Athwart the chambers, and the day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Was sloping toward his western bower.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Then said she, "I am very dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">He will not come," she said;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She wept, "I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">O God, that I were dead!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="BUGLE-SONG" id="BUGLE-SONG"></a>BUGLE-SONG.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">The splendor falls on castle walls<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And snowy summits old in story;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The long light shakes across the lakes,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 41]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And thinner, clearer, farther going!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O sweet and far from cliff and scar<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">O love, they die in yon rich sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">They faint on hill or field or river:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our echoes roll from soul to soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And grow forever and forever.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SERENADE" id="SERENADE"></a>SERENADE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Stars of the summer night!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Far in yon azure deeps,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hide, hide your golden light!<br /></span>
<span class="i3">She sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My lady sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Sleeps!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Moon of the summer night!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Far down yon western steeps,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 42]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sink, sink in silver light!<br /></span>
<span class="i3">She sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My lady sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Sleeps!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Wind of the summer night!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where yonder woodbine creeps,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fold, fold thy pinions light!<br /></span>
<span class="i3">She sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My lady sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Sleeps!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Dreams of the summer night!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Tell her, her lover keeps<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Watch, while in slumbers light<br /></span>
<span class="i3">She sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My lady sleeps!<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Sleeps!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="LINES_TO_AN_INDIAN_AIR" id="LINES_TO_AN_INDIAN_AIR"></a>LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I arise from dreams of thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the first sweet sleep of night,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the winds are breathing low,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the stars are shining bright;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I arise from dreams of thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And a spirit in my feet<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 43]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Has led me,—who knows how?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To thy chamber-window, sweet!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wandering airs they faint<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On the dark, the silent stream,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The champak odors fail,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like sweet thoughts in a dream.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The nightingale's complaint<br /></span>
<span class="i1">It dies upon her heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As I must die on thine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O beloved as thou art!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O lift me from the grass!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I die, I faint, I fail.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let thy love in kisses rain<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On my lips and eyelids pale.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My cheek is cold and white, alas!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My heart beats loud and fast.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh! press it close to thine again,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where it will break at last.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="NOT_FAR_TO_GO" id="NOT_FAR_TO_GO"></a>NOT FAR TO GO.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">As upland fields were sunburnt brown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And heat-dried brooks were running small,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sheep were gathered, panting all,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Below the hawthorn on the down,—<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 44]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The while my mare, with dipping head,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pulled on my cart above the bridge,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I saw come on, beside the ridge,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A maiden white in skin and thread,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And walking, with an elbow-load,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The way I drove along my road.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">As there with comely steps up hill<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She rose by elm-trees all in ranks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From shade to shade, by flowery banks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where flew the bird with whistling bill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I kindly said, "Now won't you ride,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This burning weather, up the knap?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have a seat that fits the trap,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And now is swung from side to side."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"O no," she cried, "I thank you, no.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've little farther now to go."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then, up the timbered slope, I found<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The prettiest house a good day's ride<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Would bring you by, with porch and side<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By rose and jessamine well bound;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And near at hand a spring and pool,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With lawn well sunned and bower cool;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And while the wicket fell behind<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her steps, I thought, "If I would find<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A wife I need not blush to show,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've little farther now to go."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Barnes.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 45]</span></p>
<h2><a name="MAID_OF_ATHENS_ERE_WE_PART" id="MAID_OF_ATHENS_ERE_WE_PART"></a>MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Maid of Athens, ere we part,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Give, O give me back my heart!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or, since that has left my breast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Keep it now, and take the rest!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hear my vow before I go,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">By those tresses unconfined,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wooed by each Ægean wind;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By those lids whose jetty fringe<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By those wild eyes like the roe,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">By that lip I long to taste;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By that zone-encircled waist;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By all the token-flowers that tell<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What words can never speak so well;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By love's alternate joy and woe,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Maid of Athens! I am gone.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Think of me, sweet! when alone.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though I fly to Istambol,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Athens holds my heart and soul:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Can I cease to love thee? No!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Lord Byron.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 46]</span></p>
<h2><a name="COME_REST_IN_THIS_BOSOM" id="COME_REST_IN_THIS_BOSOM"></a>COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oh! what was love made for, if 't is not the same<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou hast called me thy Angel in moments of bliss,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thy Angel I 'll be, 'mid the horrors of this,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And shield thee, and save thee,—or perish there too!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Moore.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_WOMANS_QUESTION" id="A_WOMANS_QUESTION"></a>A WOMAN'S QUESTION.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Before I trust my fate to thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or place my hand in thine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Before I let thy future give<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Color and form to mine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Before I peril all for thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Question thy soul to-night for me.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 47]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I break all slighter bonds, nor feel<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A shadow of regret:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is there one link within the past<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That holds thy spirit yet?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or is thy faith as clear and free<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As that which I can pledge to thee?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Does there within thy dimmest dreams<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A possible future shine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Untouched, unshared by mine?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If so, at any pain or cost,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, tell me before all is lost!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Look deeper still: if thou canst feel,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Within thy inmost soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That thou hast kept a portion back,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">While I have staked the whole,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let no false pity spare the blow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But in true mercy tell me so.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Is there within thy heart a need<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That mine cannot fulfil?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One chord that any other hand<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Could better wake or still?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Speak now, lest at some future day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My whole life wither and decay.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lives there within thy nature hid<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The demon-spirit, change,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shedding a passing glory still<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On all things new and strange?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 48]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">It may not be thy fault alone,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But shield my heart against thine own.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And answer to my claim,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That fate, and that to-day's mistake,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Not thou,—had been to blame?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wilt surely warn and save me now.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Nay, answer <i>not</i>,—I dare not hear,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The words would come too late;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet I would spare thee all remorse,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So comfort thee, my fate:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whatever on my heart may fall,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Remember, I <i>would</i> risk it all!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Adelaide Anne Procter.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SONNETS" id="SONNETS"></a>SONNETS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will be a tattered weed, of small worth held:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 49]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If thou couldst answer,—"This fair child of mine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse—"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Proving his beauty by succession thine.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This were to be new-made when thou art old,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style='width: 15%;' />
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><a name="SONNETS2" id="SONNETS2"></a>When I do count the clock that tells the time,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When I behold the violet past prime,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then, of thy beauty do I question make,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That thou among the wastes of time must go,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And die as fast as they see others grow;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Save breed, to brave him, when he takes thee hence.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style='width: 15%;' />
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><a name="SONNETS3" id="SONNETS3"></a>My glass shall not persuade me I am old,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So long as youth and thou are of one date;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But when in thee Time's furrows I behold,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then look I death my days should expiate.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For all that beauty that doth cover thee<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 50]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How can I then be elder than thou art?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O therefore, love, be of thyself so wary,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As I not for myself but for thee will;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thou gav'st me thine, not to give back again.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style='width: 15%;' />
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><a name="SONNETS4" id="SONNETS4"></a>As an unperfect actor on the stage,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who with his fear is put beside his part,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So I, for fear of trust, forget to say<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The perfect ceremony of love's rite,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O let my books be then the eloquence<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And dumb presagers of my speaking breast;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who plead for love, and look for recompense,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O learn to read what silent love hath writ:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style='width: 15%;' />
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><a name="SONNETS5" id="SONNETS5"></a>Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou art more lovely and more temperate:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And summer's lease hath all too short a date:<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 51]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And often is his gold complexion dimmed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And every fair from fair sometime declines,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By chance, or nature's changing coarse, untrimmed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But thy eternal summer shall not fade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When in eternal lines to time thou growest;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Shakespeare.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="LOVE_NOT" id="LOVE_NOT"></a>LOVE NOT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Love not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hope's gayest wreaths are made of earthly flowers,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Things that are made to fade and fall away<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ere they have blossomed for a few short hours.<br /></span>
<span class="i10">Love not!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Love not! the thing ye love may change;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The rosy lip may cease to smile on you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The kindly-beaming eye grow cold and strange,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The heart still warmly beat, yet not be true.<br /></span>
<span class="i10">Love not!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Love not! the thing you love may die,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May perish from the gay and gladsome earth;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 52]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The silent stars, the blue and smiling sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beam o'er its grave, as once upon its birth.<br /></span>
<span class="i10">Love not!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Love not! O warning vainly said<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In present hours as in years gone by!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Love flings a halo round the dear ones' head,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Faultless, immortal, till they change or die.<br /></span>
<span class="i10">Love not!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Caroline Norton.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="AE_FOND_KISS" id="AE_FOND_KISS"></a>AE FOND KISS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ae fareweel, alas! forever!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While the star of hope she leaves him?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dark despair around benights me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Naething could resist my Nancy:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But to see her was to love her,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Love but her, and love forever.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had we never loved sae kindly,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had we never loved sae blindly,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 53]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Never met,—or never parted,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We had ne'er been broken-hearted.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thine be ilka joy and treasure,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ae fareweel, alas! forever!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Burns.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="BREAK_BREAK_BREAK" id="BREAK_BREAK_BREAK"></a>BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Break, break, break,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On thy cold gray stones, O sea!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I would that my tongue could utter<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The thoughts that arise in me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O well for the fisherman's boy<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That he shouts with his sister at play!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O well for the sailor lad<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That he sings in his boat on the bay!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And the stately ships go on,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the haven under the hill;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But O for the touch of a vanished hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the sound of a voice that is still!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 54]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Break, break, break,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">At the foot of thy crags, O sea!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the tender grace of a day that is dead<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will never come back to me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ASTARTE" id="ASTARTE"></a>ASTARTE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the latest strife is lost, and all is done with,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere we slumber in the spirit and the brain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We drowse back, in dreams, to days that life begun with,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And their tender light returns to us again.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have cast away the tangle and the torment<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of the cords that bound my life up in a mesh;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the pulse begins to throb that long lay dormant<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Neath their pressure; and the old wounds bleed afresh.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I am touched again with shades of early sadness,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like the summer-cloud's light shadow in my hair;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am thrilled again with breaths of boyish gladness,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like the scent of some last primrose on the air.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And again she comes, with all her silent graces,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The lost woman of my youth, yet unpossessed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And her cold face so unlike the other faces<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of the women whose dead lips I since have pressed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The motion and the fragrance of her garments<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Seem about me, all the day long, in the room;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 55]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And her face, with its bewildering old endearments,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Comes at night, between the curtains, in the gloom.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When vain dreams are stirred with sighing, near the morning,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To my own her phantom lips I feel approach;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And her smile, at eve, breaks o'er me without warning<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From its speechless, pale, perpetual reproach.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When life's dawning glimmer yet had all the tint there<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of the orient, in the freshness of the grass<br /></span>
<span class="i0">(Ah, what feet since then have trodden out the print there!)<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Did her soft, her silent footsteps fall, and pass.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They fell lightly, as the dew falls, 'mid ungathered<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Meadow-flowers, and lightly lingered with the dew.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the dew is gone, the grass is dried and withered,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the traces of those steps have faded too.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Other footsteps fall about me,—faint, uncertain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the shadow of the world, as it recedes;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Other forms peer through the half-uplifted curtain<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of that mystery which hangs behind the creeds.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What is gone, is gone forever. And new fashions<br /></span>
<span class="i1">May replace old forms which nothing can restore;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I turn from sighing back departed passions,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With that pining at the bosom as of yore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I remember to have murmured, morn and even,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Though the Earth dispart these Earthlies, face from face,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 56]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet the Heavenlies shall surely join in Heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For the spirit hath no bonds in time or space.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Where it listeth, there it bloweth; all existence<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is its region; and it houseth where it will.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall feel her through immeasurable distance,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And grow nearer and be gathered to her still.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"If I fail to find her out by her gold tresses,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Brows, and breast, and lips, and language of sweet strains,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall know her by the traces of dead kisses,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And that portion of myself which she retains."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But my being is confused with new experience,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And changed to something other than it was;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the Future with the Past is set at variance;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Life falters with the burthens which it has.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Earth's old sins press fast behind me, weakly wailing;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Faint before me fleets the good I have not done;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And my search for her may still be unavailing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Mid the spirits that have passed beyond the sun.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Bulwer Lytton.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MY_HEID_IS_LIKE_TO_REND_WILLIE" id="MY_HEID_IS_LIKE_TO_REND_WILLIE"></a>MY HEID IS LIKE TO REND, WILLIE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My heid is like to rend, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My heart is like to break;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'm wearin' aff my feet, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'm dyin' for your sake!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 57]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, lay your cheek to mine, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Your hand on my briest-bane,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, say ye'll think on me, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When I am deid and gane!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It's vain to comfort me, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sair grief maun ha'e its will;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But let me rest upon your briest<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To sab and greet my fill.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let me sit on your knee, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Let me shed by your hair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And look into the face, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I never sall see mair!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'm sittin' on your knee, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For the last time in my life,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A puir heart-broken thing, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A mither, yet nae wife.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ay, press your hand upon my heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And press it mair and mair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or it will burst the silken twine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sae strang is its despair.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O, wae's me for the hour, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When we thegither met,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, wae's me for the time, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That our first tryst was set!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, wae's me for the loanin' green<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where we were wont to gae,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And wae's me for the destinie<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That gart me luve thee sae!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 58]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O, dinna mind my words, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I downa seek to blame;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But O, it's hard to live, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And dree a warld's shame!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Het tears are hailin' ower your cheek,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And hailin' ower your chin;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why weep ye sae for worthlessness,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For sorrow, and for sin?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'm weary o' this warld, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And sick wi' a' I see,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I canna live as I ha'e lived,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or be as I should be.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But fauld unto your heart, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The heart that still is thine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And kiss ance mair the white, white cheel<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ye said was red langsyne.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sair stoun' through my heart;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, haud me up and let me kiss<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thy brow ere we twa pairt.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Anither, and anither yet!—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How fast my life-strings break!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fareweel! fareweel! through yon kirk-yard<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Step lichtly for my sake!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The laverock in the lift, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That lilts far ower our heid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will sing the morn as merrilie<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Abune the clay-cauld deid;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 59]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And this green turf we're sittin' on,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wi' dew-draps shimmerin' sheen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will hap the heart that luvit thee<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As warld has seldom seen.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But O, remember me, Willie,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On land where'er ye be;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And O, think on the leal, leal heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That ne'er luvit ane but thee!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And O, think on the cauld, cauld mools<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That file my yellow hair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That kiss the cheek, and kiss the chin<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ye never sall kiss mair!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Motherwell.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_MANGO_TREE" id="THE_MANGO_TREE"></a>THE MANGO TREE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He wiled me through the furzy croft;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He wiled me down the sandy lane;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He told his boy's love, soft and oft,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Until I told him mine again.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We married, and we sailed the main,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A soldier, and a soldier's wife.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We marched through many a burning plain;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We sighed for many a gallant life.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 60]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But his—God keep it safe from harm.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He toiled, and dared, and earned command,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And those three stripes upon his arm<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Were more to me than gold or land.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sure he would win some great renown;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our lives were strong, our hearts were high.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One night the fever struck him down.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I sat, and stared, and saw him die.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I had his children,—one, two, three.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One week I had them, blithe and sound.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The next—beneath this mango tree<br /></span>
<span class="i1">By him in barrack burying-ground.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I sit beneath the mango shade;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I live my five years' life all o'er,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Round yonder stems his children played;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He mounted guard at yonder door.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis I, not they, am gone and dead.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They live, they know, they feel, they see.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their spirits light the golden shade<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Beneath the giant mango tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">All things, save I, are full of life:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The minas, pluming velvet breasts;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The monkeys, in their foolish strife;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The swooping hawks, the swinging nests;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The lizards basking on the soil;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The butterflies who sun their wings;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 61]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bees about their household toil;—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They live, they love, the blissful things!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Each tender purple mango shoot,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That folds and droops so bashful down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It lives, it sucks some hidden root,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">It rears at last a broad green crown.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It blossoms: and the children cry,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Watch when the mango apples fall."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It lives; but rootless, fruitless, I,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I breathe and dream,—and that is all.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thus am I dead, yet cannot die;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But still within my foolish brain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There hangs a pale blue evening sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A furzy croft, a sandy lane.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Kingsley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TO_MARY_IN_HEAVEN" id="TO_MARY_IN_HEAVEN"></a>TO MARY IN HEAVEN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That lov'st to greet the early morn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Again thou usherest in the day<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My Mary from my soul was torn.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O Mary! dear departed shade!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where is thy place of blissful rest?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 62]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That sacred hour can I forget,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Can I forget the hallowed grove,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where by the winding Ayr we met,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To live one day of parting love?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Eternity will not efface<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Those records dear of transports past;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy image at our last embrace;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Twined amorous round the raptured scene;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The flowers sprang wanton to be pressed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The birds sang love on every spray,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till too, too soon, the glowing west<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Proclaimed the speed of wingéd day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And fondly broods with miser care!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Time but the impression deeper makes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As streams their channels deeper wear.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Mary, dear departed shade!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where is thy place of blissful rest?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Burns.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 63]</span></p>
<h2><a name="A_SONG_FOR_SEPTEMBER" id="A_SONG_FOR_SEPTEMBER"></a>A SONG FOR SEPTEMBER.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">September strews the woodland o'er<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With many a brilliant color;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The world is brighter than before,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Why should our hearts be duller?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sad thoughts and sunny weather!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ah me! this glory and this grief<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Agree not well together.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">This is the parting season,—this<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The time when friends are flying;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And lovers now, with many a kiss,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Their long farewells are sighing.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why is Earth so gayly dressed?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This pomp, that Autumn beareth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A funeral seems where every guest<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A bridal garment weareth.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Each one of us, perchance, may here,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On some blue morn hereafter,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Return to view the gaudy year,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But not with boyish laughter.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We shall then be wrinkled men,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our brows with silver laden,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thou this glen may'st seek again,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But nevermore a maiden!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Nature perhaps foresees that Spring<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will touch her teeming bosom,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 64]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And that a few brief months will bring<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The bird, the bee, the blossom;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ah! these forests do not know—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or would less brightly wither—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The virgin that adorns them so<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will nevermore come hither!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas William Parsons.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="OFT_IN_THE_STILLY_NIGHT" id="OFT_IN_THE_STILLY_NIGHT"></a>OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oft in the stilly night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fond Memory brings the light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of other days around me;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The smiles, the tears,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of boyhood's years,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The words of love then spoken;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The eyes that shone,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Now dimmed and gone,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The cheerful hearts now broken!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thus in the stilly night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sad Memory brings the light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of other days around me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When I remember all<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The friends, so linked together,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've seen around me fall,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like leaves in wintry weather,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 65]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">I feel like one<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Who treads alone<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Some banquet-hall deserted,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Whose lights are fled,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Whose garlands dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And all but he departed!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thus in the stilly night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sad Memory brings the light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of other days around me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Moore.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_DAYS_THAT_ARE_NO_MORE" id="THE_DAYS_THAT_ARE_NO_MORE"></a>THE DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tears from the depth of some divine despair<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In looking on the happy autumn fields,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thinking of the days that are no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That brings our friends up from the under world,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sad as the last which reddens over one<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That sinks with all we love below the verge,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To dying ears, when unto dying eyes<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 66]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The casement slowly grows a glimmering square,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Dear as remembered kisses after death,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On lips that are for others; deep as love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deep as first love, and wild with all regret,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O death in life! the days that are no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_OLD_FAMILIAR_FACES" id="THE_OLD_FAMILIAR_FACES"></a>THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have had playmates, I have had companions,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have been laughing, I have been carousing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I loved a love once, fairest among women;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 67]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Seeking to find the old familiar faces.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why wert thou not born in my father's dwelling?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So might we talk of the old familiar faces,—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">How some they have died, and some they have left me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And some are taken from me; all are departed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Lamb.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TIMES_CHANGES" id="TIMES_CHANGES"></a>TIME'S CHANGES.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I saw her once,—so freshly fair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That, like a blossom just unfolding,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She opened to life's cloudless air,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Nature joyed to view its moulding:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her smile, it haunts my memory yet;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her cheek's fine hue divinely glowing;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her rosebud mouth, her eyes of jet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Around on all their light bestowing.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, who could look on such a form,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So nobly free, so softly tender,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And darkly dream that earthly storm<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Should dim such sweet, delicious splendor?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For in her mien, and in her face,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And in her young step's fairy lightness,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 68]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Naught could the raptured gazer trace<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But beauty's glow and pleasure's brightness.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I saw her twice,—an altered charm,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But still of magic richest, rarest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than girlhood's talisman less warm,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Though yet of earthly sights the fairest;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon her breast she held a child,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The very image of its mother,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which ever to her smiling smiled,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They seemed to live but in each other.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But matron cares or lurking woe<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her thoughtless, sinless look had banished,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And from her cheeks the roseate glow<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of girlhood's balmy morn had vanished;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Within her eyes, upon her brow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lay something softer, fonder, deeper,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As if in dreams some visioned woe<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Had broke the Elysium of the sleeper.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I saw her thrice,—Fate's dark decree<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In widow's garments had arrayed her;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet beautiful she seemed to be<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As even my reveries portrayed her;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The glow, the glance, had passed away,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The sunshine and the sparkling glitter,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Still, though I noted pale decay,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The retrospect was scarcely bitter;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For in their place a calmness dwelt,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Serene, subduing, soothing, holy,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In feeling which, the bosom felt<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That every louder mirth is folly,—<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 69]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">A pensiveness which is not grief;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A stillness as of sunset streaming;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A fairy glow on flower and leaf,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Till earth looks like a landscape dreaming.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A last time,—and unmoved she lay,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Beyond life's dim, uncertain river,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A glorious mould of fading clay,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From whence the spark had fled forever!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I gazed—my heart was like to burst—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And, as I thought of years departed—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The years wherein I saw her first,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When she, a girl, was lightsome-hearted—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And as I mused on later days,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When moved she in her matron duty,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A happy mother, in the blaze<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of ripened hope and sunny beauty,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I felt the chill—I turned aside—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Bleak Desolation's cloud came o'er me;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Being seemed a troubled tide,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whose wrecks in darkness swam before me!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>David Macbeth Moir.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="QUA_CURSUM_VENTUS" id="QUA_CURSUM_VENTUS"></a>QUA CURSUM VENTUS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">As ships becalmed at eve, that lay<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With canvas drooping, side by side,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Two towers of sail at dawn of day<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are scarce, long leagues apart, descried;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 70]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And all the darkling hours they plied,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor dreamt but each the selfsame seas<br /></span>
<span class="i1">By each was cleaving, side by side:<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">E'en so,—but why the tale reveal<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of those whom, year by year unchanged,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Brief absence joined anew to feel,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Astounded, soul from soul estranged?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At dead of night their sails were filled,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And onward each rejoicing steered;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ah, neither blame, for neither willed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or wist, what first with dawn appeared!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through winds and tides one compass guides,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To that, and your own selves, be true.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But O blithe breeze, and O great seas,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Though ne'er, that earliest parting past,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On your wide plain they join again,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Together lead them home at last!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">One port, methought, alike they sought,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One purpose hold where'er they fare,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O bounding breeze, O rushing seas,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">At last, at last, unite them there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Arthur Hugh Clough.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 71]</span></p>
<h2><a name="CHANGES" id="CHANGES"></a>CHANGES.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Whom first we love, you know, we seldom wed.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Time rules us all. And life, indeed, is not<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The thing we planned it out ere hope was dead.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then, we women cannot choose our lot.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Much must be borne which it is hard to bear;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Much given away which it were sweet to keep.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God help us all! who need, indeed, his care.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And yet I know the Shepherd loves his sheep.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My little boy begins to babble now<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon my knee his earliest infant prayer.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He has his father's eager eyes, I know;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, they say, too, his mother's sunny hair.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But when he sleeps and smiles upon my knee,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I can feel his light breath come and go,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I think of one (Heaven help and pity me!)<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who loved me, and whom I loved, long ago;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Who might have been ... ah, what I dare not think!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We are all changed. God judges for us best.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">God help us do our duty, and not shrink,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And trust in Heaven humbly for the rest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But blame us women not, if some appear<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Too cold at times; and some too gay and light.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 72]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Some griefs gnaw deep. Some woes are hard to bear.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who knows the past? and who can judge us right?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah, were we judged by what we might have been,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And not by what we are,—too apt to fall!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My little child,—he sleeps and smiles between<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These thoughts and me. In heaven we shall know all!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Bulwer Lytton.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="I_REMEMBER_I_REMEMBER" id="I_REMEMBER_I_REMEMBER"></a>I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I remember, I remember<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The house where I was born,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The little window where the sun<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Came peeping in at morn;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He never came a wink too soon,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor brought too long a day;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But now, I often wish the night<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Had borne my breath away!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I remember, I remember<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The roses, red and white,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The violets, and the lily-cups,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Those flowers made of light!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lilacs where the robin built,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And where my brother set<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The laburnum on his birthday,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The tree is living yet!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 73]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I remember, I remember<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where I was used to swing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thought the air must rush as fresh<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To swallows on the wing;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My spirit flew in feathers then,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That is so heavy now,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And summer pool could hardly cool<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The fever on my brow!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I remember, I remember<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The fir-trees dark and high;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I used to think their slender tops<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Were close against the sky.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was a childish ignorance,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But now 'tis little joy<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To know I'm farther off from heaven<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Than when I was a boy.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Hood.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="HAUNTED_HOUSES" id="HAUNTED_HOUSES"></a>HAUNTED HOUSES.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">All houses wherein men have lived and died<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are haunted houses. Through the open doors<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With feet that make no sound upon the floors.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Along the passages they come and go,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 74]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Impalpable impressions on the air,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sense of something moving to and fro.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There are more guests at table than the hosts<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Invited; the illuminated hall<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As silent as the pictures on the wall.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The stranger at my fireside cannot see<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He but perceives what is; while unto me<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All that has been is visible and clear.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We have no title-deeds to house or lands;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Owners and occupants of earlier dates<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And hold in mortmain still their old estates.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The spirit-world around this world of sense<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors dense<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A vital breath of more ethereal air.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Our little lives are kept in equipoise<br /></span>
<span class="i1">By opposite attractions and desires!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The struggle of the instinct that enjoys<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the more noble instinct that aspires.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">These perturbations, this perpetual jar<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of earthly wants and aspirations high,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 75]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Come from the influence of an unseen star,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An undiscovered planet in our sky.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Into the realm of mystery and night,—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So from the world of spirits there descends<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A bridge of light, connecting it with this,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THANATOPSIS" id="THANATOPSIS"></a>THANATOPSIS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">To him who in the love of nature holds<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Communion with her visible forms, she speaks<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A various language: for his gayer hours<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She has a voice of gladness, and a smile<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And eloquence of beauty; and she glides<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Into his darker musings with a mild<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And healing sympathy, that steals away<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the last bitter hour come like a blight<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Over thy spirit, and sad images<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 76]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Go forth under the open sky, and list<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To Nature's teachings, while from all around—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Earth and her waters, and the depths of air—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Comes a still voice: Yet a few days, and thee<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The all-beholding sun shall see no more<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, lost each human trace, surrendering up<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thine individual being, shalt thou go<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To mix forever with the elements,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To be a brother to the insensible rock,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Turns with his share and treads upon. The oak<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Yet not to thine eternal resting-place<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With patriarchs of the infant world,—with kings,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The powerful of the earth,—the wise, the good,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,—the vales<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Stretching in pensive quietness between,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The venerable woods,—rivers that move<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In majesty, and the complaining brooks<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 77]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are but the solemn decorations all<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are shining on the sad abodes of death,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The globe are but a handful to the tribes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of morning; traverse Barca's desert sands,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or lose thyself in the continuous woods<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Save his own dashings,—yet the dead are there;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And millions in those solitudes, since first<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The flight of years began, have laid them down<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In their last sleep,—the dead reign there alone.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So shalt thou rest; and what if thou withdraw<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In silence from the living, and no friend<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Take note of thy departure? All that breathe<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their mirth and their employments, and shall come<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And make their bed with thee. As the long train<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of ages glide away, the sons of men—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall one by one be gathered to thy side<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By those who in their turn shall follow them.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 78]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">So live that when thy summons comes to join<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The innumerable caravan which moves<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To that mysterious realm where each shall take<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His chamber in the silent halls of death,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch<br /></span>
<span class="i0">About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Cullen Bryant.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="OVER_THE_RIVER" id="OVER_THE_RIVER"></a>OVER THE RIVER.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Over the river they beckon to me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Loved ones who've crossed to the farther side,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The gleam of their snowy robes I see,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But their voices are lost in the dashing tide.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's one with ringlets of sunny gold,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He crossed in the twilight gray and cold,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the pale mist hid him from mortal view.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We saw not the angels who met him there,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The gates of the city we could not see:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Over the river, over the river,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My brother stands waiting to welcome me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Over the river the boatman pale<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Carried another, the household pet;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 79]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Darling Minnie! I see her yet.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And fearlessly entered the phantom bark;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We felt it glide from the silver sands,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And all our sunshine grew strangely dark;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We know she is safe on the farther side,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where all the ransomed and angels be:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Over the river, the mystic river,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My childhood's idol is waiting for me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For none return from those quiet shores,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Who cross with the boatman cold and pale;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We hear the dip of the golden oars,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And catch a gleam of the snowy sail;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And lo! they have passed from our yearning heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They cross the stream and are gone for aye;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We may not sunder the veil apart<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That hides from our vision the gates of day;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We only know that their barks no more<br /></span>
<span class="i1">May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They watch, and beckon, and wait for me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is flushing river and hill and shore,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall one day stand by the water cold,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And list for the sound of the boatman's oar;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 80]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the better shore of the spirit-land.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall know the loved who have gone before,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And joyfully sweet will the meeting be,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When over the river, the peaceful river,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The angel of death shall carry me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Nancy Priest Wakefield.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THEY_ARE_ALL_GONE" id="THEY_ARE_ALL_GONE"></a>THEY ARE ALL GONE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They are all gone into the world of light,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And I alone sit lingering here!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their very memory is fair and bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And my sad thoughts doth clear;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like stars upon some gloomy grove,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or those faint beams in which this hill is dressed<br /></span>
<span class="i2">After the sun's remove.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I see them walking in an air of glory,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whose light doth trample on my days,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My days which are at best but dull and hoary,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Mere glimmerings and decays.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O holy hope! and high humility,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">High as the heavens above!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These are your walks, and you have showed them me<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To kindle my cold love.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 81]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Dear, beauteous death,—the jewel of the just,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shining nowhere but in the dark!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Could man outlook that mark!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">At first sight, if the bird be flown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But what fair dell or grove he sings in now,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That is to him unknown.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Call to the soul when man doth sleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And into glory peep.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If a star were confined into a tomb,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her captive flames must needs burn there;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But when the hand that locked her up gives room,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She'll shine through all the sphere.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O Father of eternal life, and all<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Created glories under Thee!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Into true liberty.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My perspective still as they pass;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or else remove me hence unto that hill<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where I shall need no glass.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Vaughan.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 82]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_RIVER_PATH" id="THE_RIVER_PATH"></a>THE RIVER PATH.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No bird-song floated down the hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The tangled bank below was still;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No rustle from the birchen stem,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No ripple from the water's hem.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The dusk of twilight round us grew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We felt the falling of the dew;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For from us, ere the day was done,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wooded hills shut out the sun.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But on the river's farther side,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We saw the hill-tops glorified,—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A tender glow, exceeding fair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A dream of day without its glare.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With us the damp, the chill, the gloom;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With them the sunset's rosy bloom;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">While dark, through willowy vistas seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The river rolled in shade between.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From out the darkness where we trod,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We gazed upon those hills of God,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Whose light seemed not of morn or sun;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We spake not, but our thought was one.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 83]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We paused, as if from that bright shore<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beckoned our dear ones gone before;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And stilled our beating hearts to hear<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The voices lost to mortal ear!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sudden our pathway turned from night;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The hills swung open to the light;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Through their green gates the sunshine showed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A long slant splendor downward flowed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Down glade and glen and bank it rolled;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It bridged the shaded stream with gold;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And, borne on piers of mist, allied<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The shadowy with the sunlit side!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"So," prayed we, "when our feet draw near<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The river dark with mortal fear,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"And the night cometh, chill with dew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O Father, let thy light break through!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"So let the hills of doubt divide,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To bridge with faith the sunless tide!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"So let the eyes that fail on earth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On thy eternal hills look forth,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"And in thy beckoning angels know<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dear ones whom we loved below!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Greenleaf Whittier.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 84]</span></p>
<h2><a name="AN_OLD_MANS_IDYL" id="AN_OLD_MANS_IDYL"></a>AN OLD MAN'S IDYL.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">By the waters of Life we sat together,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hand in hand, in the golden days<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the beautiful early summer weather,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When hours were anthems and speech was praise;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the heart kept time to the carol of birds,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the birds kept tune to the songs that ran<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through shimmer of flowers on grassy swards,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And trees with voices Æolian.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">By the rivers of Life we walked together,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I and my darling, unafraid;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And lighter than any linnet's feather<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The burdens of being on us weighed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Love's sweet miracles o'er us threw<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Mantles of joy outlasting Time;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And up from the rosy morrows grew<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sound that seemed like a marriage-chime.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In the gardens of Life we roamed together;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the luscious apples were ripe and red,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the languid lilac and honeyed heather<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Swooned with the fragrance which they shed.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And under the trees the Angels walked,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And up in the air a sense of wings<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Awed us sacredly while we talked<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Softly in tender communings.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In the meadows of life we strayed together,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Watching the waving harvests grow;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 85]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And under the benison of the Father<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our hearts like the lambs skipped to and fro.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the cowslips, hearing our low replies,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Broidered fairer the emerald banks;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And glad tears shone in the daisies' eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the timid violet glistened thanks.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Who was with us, and what was round us,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Neither myself nor darling guessed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Only we knew that something crowned us<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Out from the heavens with crowns of rest.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Only we knew that something bright<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lingered lovingly where we stood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Clothed with the incandescent light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of something higher than humanhood.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O the riches Love doth inherit!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah the alchemy which doth change<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dross of body and dregs of spirit<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Into sanctities rare and strange!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My flesh is feeble, and dry, and old,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My darling's beautiful hair is gray;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But our elixir and precious gold<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Laugh at the footsteps of decay.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Harms of the world have come upon us,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Cups of sorrow we yet shall drain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But we have a secret which doth show us<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wonderful rainbows through the rain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And we hear the tread of the years go by,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the sun is setting behind the hills;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 86]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">But my darling does not fear to die,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And I am happy in what God wills.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So we sit by our household fires together,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dreaming the dreams of long ago.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then it was balmy summer weather,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And now the valleys are laid in snow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Icicles hang from the slippery eaves,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The wind grows cold,—it is growing late.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Well, well,—we have garnered all our sheaves,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I and my darling,—and we wait.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Richard Realf.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="BETROTHED_ANEW" id="BETROTHED_ANEW"></a>BETROTHED ANEW.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The sunlight fills the trembling air,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And balmy days their guerdons bring;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Earth again is young and fair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And amorous with musky spring.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The golden nurslings of the May<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In splendor strew the spangled green,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And hues of tender beauty play,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Entangled where the willows lean.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Mark how the rippled currents flow;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What lustres on the meadows lie!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And hark! the songsters come and go,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And trill between the earth and sky.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 87]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Who told us that the years had fled,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or borne afar our blissful youth?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Such joys are all about us spread,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We know the whisper was not truth.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The birds that break from grass and grove<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sing every carol that they sung<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When first our veins were rich with love,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And May her mantle round us flung.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O fresh-lit dawn! immortal life!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O Earth's betrothal, sweet and true,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With whose delights our souls are rife,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And aye their vernal vows renew!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then, darling, walk with me this morn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Let your brown tresses drink its sheen;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These violets, within them worn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of floral fays shall make you queen.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What though there comes a time of pain<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When autumn winds forebode decay?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The days of love are born again;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That fabled time is far away!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And never seemed the land so fair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As now, nor birds such notes to sing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since first within your shining hair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I wove the blossoms of the spring.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 88]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_LONG-AGO" id="THE_LONG-AGO"></a>THE LONG-AGO.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Eyes which can but ill define<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shapes that rise about and near,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the far horizon's line<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Stretch a vision free and clear;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Memories feeble to retrace<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Yesterday's immediate flow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Find a dear familiar face<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In each hour of Long-Ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Follow yon majestic train<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Down the slopes of old renown;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Knightly forms without disdain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sainted heads without a frown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Emperors of thought and hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Congregate, a glorious show,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Met from every age and land,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the plains of Long-Ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">As the heart of childhood brings<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Something of eternal joy<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From its own unsounded springs,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Such as life can scarce destroy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So, remindful of the prime,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Spirits wandering to and fro<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rest upon the resting-time<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the peace of Long-Ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Youthful Hope's religious fire,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When it burns no longer, leaves<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 89]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ashes of impure desire<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On the altars it bereaves;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the light that fills the past<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sheds a still diviner glow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ever farther it is cast<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O'er the scenes of Long-Ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Many a growth of pain and care,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Cumbering all the present hour,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yields, when once transplanted there,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Healthy fruit or pleasant flower.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thoughts that hardly flourish here,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Feelings long have ceased to blow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Breathe a native atmosphere<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the world of Long-Ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">On that deep-retiring shore<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Frequent pearls of beauty lie,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where the passion-waves of yore<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Fiercely beat and mounted high;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sorrows that are sorrows still,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lose the bitter taste of woe;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nothing's altogether ill<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the griefs of Long-Ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tombs where lonely love repines,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ghastly tenements of tears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wear the look of happy shrines<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through the golden mist of years;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Death, to those who trust in good,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Vindicates his hardest blow;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 90]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, we would not, if we could,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wake the sleep of Long-Ago!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Though the doom of swift decay<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shocks the soul where life is strong;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though for frailer hearts the day<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lingers sad and over-long;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Still the weight will find a leaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Still the spoiler's hand is slow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While the future has its Heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the past its Long-Ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Richard Monckton Milnes.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_IVY_GREEN" id="THE_IVY_GREEN"></a>THE IVY GREEN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O, a dainty plant is the ivy green,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That creepeth o'er ruins old!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In his cell so lone and cold.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The walls must be crumbled, the stones decayed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To pleasure his dainty whim;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the mouldering dust that years have made<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is a merry meal for him.<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Creeping where no life is seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">A rare old plant is the ivy green.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And a stanch old heart has he!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 91]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">How closely he twineth, how tight he clings<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To his friend, the huge oak-tree!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And slyly he traileth along the ground,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And his leaves he gently waves,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And he joyously twines and hugs around<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The rich mould of dead men's graves.<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Creeping where no life is seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">A rare old plant is the ivy green.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And nations have scattered been;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the stout old ivy shall never fade<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From its hale and hearty green.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The brave old plant in its lonely days<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shall fatten upon the past;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the stateliest building man can raise<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is the ivy's food at last.<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Creeping where no life is seen,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">A rare old plant is the ivy green.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Dickens.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SUMMER_LONGINGS" id="SUMMER_LONGINGS"></a>SUMMER LONGINGS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart is weary waiting,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Waiting for the May,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Waiting for the pleasant rambles<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where the fragrant hawthorn-brambles,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 92]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i1">With the woodbine alternating,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Scent the dewy way.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart is weary waiting,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Waiting for the May.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart is sick with longing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Longing for the May,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Longing to escape from study,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the young face fair and ruddy,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the thousand charms belonging<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To the summer's day.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart is sick with longing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Longing for the May.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart is sore with sighing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Sighing for the May,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sighing for their sure returning,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the summer beams are burning,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hopes and flowers that, dead or dying,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All the winter lay.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart is sore with sighing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Sighing for the May.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart is pained with throbbing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Throbbing for the May,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Throbbing for the seaside billows,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or the water-wooing willows;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where, in laughing and in sobbing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Glide the streams away.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah! my heart, my heart is throbbing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Throbbing for the May.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 93]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Waiting sad, dejected, weary,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Waiting for the May:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Spring goes by with wasted warnings,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Moonlit evenings, sunbright mornings,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Summer comes, yet dark and dreary<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Life still ebbs away;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Man is ever weary, weary,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Waiting for the May!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Denis Florence Mac-Carthy.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="YARROW_UNVISITED" id="YARROW_UNVISITED"></a>YARROW UNVISITED.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From Stirling castle we had seen<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The mazy Forth unravelled;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And with the Tweed had travelled;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And when we came to Clovenford,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then said my "winsome Marrow,"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And see the braes of Yarrow."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Who have been buying, selling,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Go back to Yarrow; 'tis their own,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Each maiden to her dwelling!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 94]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">But we will downward with the Tweed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor turn aside to Yarrow.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Both lying right before us;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The lintwhites sing in chorus;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's pleasant Teviot-dale, a land<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Made blithe with plough and harrow:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why throw away a needful day<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To go in search of Yarrow?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"What's Yarrow but a river bare,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That glides the dark hills under?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There are a thousand such elsewhere,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As worthy of your wonder."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Strange words they seemed, of slight and scorn;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My true-love sighed for sorrow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And looked me in the face, to think<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I thus could speak of Yarrow!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"O, green," said I, "are Yarrow's holms,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And sweet is Yarrow flowing!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But we will leave it growing.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O'er hilly path and open strath<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We'll wander Scotland thorough;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But, though so near, we will not turn<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Into the dale of Yarrow.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 95]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Let beeves and homebred kine partake<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The swan on still St. Mary's Lake<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Float double, swan and shadow!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We will not see them; will not go<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To-day, nor yet to-morrow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Enough, if in our hearts we know<br /></span>
<span class="i1">There's such a place as Yarrow.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">It must, or we shall rue it:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We have a vision of our own;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah! why should we undo it?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The treasured dreams of times long past,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We'll keep them, winsome Marrow!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For when we're there, although 'tis fair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Twill be another Yarrow!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"If care with freezing years should come,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And wandering seem but folly,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Should we be loath to stir from home,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And yet be melancholy,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Should life be dull, and spirits low,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Twill soothe us in our sorrow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That earth has something yet to show,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The bonny holms of Yarrow!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Wordsworth.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 96]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_TIGER" id="THE_TIGER"></a>THE TIGER.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tiger! Tiger! burning bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the forests of the night;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What immortal hand or eye<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Could frame thy fearful symmetry?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In what distant deeps or skies<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Burned the fire of thine eyes?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On what wings dare he aspire?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What the hand dare seize the fire?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And what shoulder, and what art,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Could twist the sinews of thine heart?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And when thy heart began to beat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What dread hand? and what dread feet?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What the hammer? what the chain?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In what furnace was thy brain?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What the anvil? what dread grasp<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dare its deadly terrors clasp?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When the stars threw down their spears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And watered heaven with their tears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did he smile his work to see?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did He who made the lamb make thee?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tiger! Tiger! burning bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the forests of the night,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What immortal hand or eye<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Blake.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 97]</span></p>
<h2><a name="A_SNOW-STORM" id="A_SNOW-STORM"></a>A SNOW-STORM.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10"><b>I.</b><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis a fearful night in the winter time,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As cold as it ever can be;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The roar of the blast is heard like the chime<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of the waves on an angry sea.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The moon is full; but her silver light<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The storm dashes out with its wings to-night;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And over the sky from south to north<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not a star is seen, as the wind comes forth<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the strength of a mighty glee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10"><b>II.</b><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">All day had the snow come down,—all day<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As it never came down before;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And over the hills, at sunset, lay<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Some two or three feet, or more;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fence was lost, and the wall of stone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The windows blocked and the well-curbs gone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The haystack had grown to a mountain lift,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the wood-pile looked like a monster drift,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As it lay by the farmer's door.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The night sets in on a world of snow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">While the air grows sharp and chill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the warning roar of a fearful blow<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is heard on the distant hill;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the norther, see! on the mountain peak<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In his breath how the old trees writhe and shriek!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He shouts on the plain, ho-ho! ho-ho!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 98]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">He drives from his nostrils the blinding snow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And growls with a savage will.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10"><b>III.</b><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Such a night as this to be found abroad,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the drifts and the freezing air,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sits a shivering dog, in the field, by the road,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With the snow in his shaggy hair.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He shuts his eyes to the wind and growls;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He lifts his head, and moans and howls;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then crouching low, from the cutting sleet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His nose is pressed on his quivering feet,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Pray, what does the dog do there?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A farmer came from the village plain,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But he lost the travelled way;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And for hours he trod with might and main<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A path for his horse and sleigh;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But colder still the cold winds blew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And deeper still the deep drifts grew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And his mare, a beautiful Morgan brown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At last in her struggles floundered down,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where a log in a hollow lay.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In vain, with a neigh and a frenzied snort,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She plunged in the drifting snow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While her master urged, till his breath grew short,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With a word and a gentle blow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the snow was deep, and the tugs were tight;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His hands were numb and had lost their might;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So he wallowed back to his half-filled sleigh,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 99]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And strove to shelter himself till day,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With his coat and the buffalo.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10"><b>IV.</b><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He has given the last faint jerk of the rein,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To rouse up his dying steed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the poor dog howls to the blast in vain<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For help in his master's need.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For a while he strives with a wistful cry<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To catch a glance from his drowsy eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And wags his tail if the rude winds flap<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The skirt of the buffalo over his lap,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And whines when he takes no heed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10"><b>V.</b><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wind goes down and the storm is o'er,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Tis the hour of midnight, past;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The old trees writhe and bend no more<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the whirl of the rushing blast.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The silent moon with her peaceful light<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Looks down on the hills with snow all white,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the giant shadow of Camel's Hump,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The blasted pine and the ghostly stump,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Afar on the plain are cast.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But cold and dead by the hidden log<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are they who came from the town,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The man in his sleigh, and his faithful dog,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And his beautiful Morgan brown,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the wide snow-desert, far and grand,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 100]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">With his cap on his head and the reins in his hand,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dog with his nose on his master's feet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the mare half seen through the crusted sleet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where she lay when she floundered down.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Gamage Eastman.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_DEATH_OF_THE_FLOWERS" id="THE_DEATH_OF_THE_FLOWERS"></a>THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas! they all are in their graves; the gentle race of flowers<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 101]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, and glen.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The south-wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast the leaf,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Cullen Bryant.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 102]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_SANDS_OF_DEE" id="THE_SANDS_OF_DEE"></a>THE SANDS OF DEE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And call the cattle home,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And call the cattle home,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Across the sands of Dee."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The western wind was wild and dank with foam,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And all alone went she.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The western tide crept up along the sand,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And o'er and o'er the sand,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And round and round the sand,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As far as eye could see.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The rolling mist came down and hid the land:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And never home came she.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A tress of golden hair,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A drownéd maiden's hair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Above the nets at sea?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Was never salmon yet that shone so fair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Among the stakes on Dee."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They rowed her in across the rolling foam,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The cruel crawling foam,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The cruel hungry foam,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To her grave beside the sea.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Across the sands of Dee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Kingsley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 103]</span></p>
<h2><a name="HYMN_TO_THE_NIGHT" id="HYMN_TO_THE_NIGHT"></a>HYMN TO THE NIGHT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I heard the trailing garments of the Night<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sweep through her marble halls!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From the celestial walls!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I felt her presence, by its spell of might,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Stoop o'er me from above;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The calm, majestic presence of the Night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As of the one I love.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The manifold, soft chimes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like some old poet's rhymes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From the cool cisterns of the midnight air<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My spirit drank repose;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From those deep cisterns flows.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What man has borne before!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And they complain no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Descend with broad-winged flight,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The best-belovéd Night!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 104]</span></p>
<h2><a name="NIGHT_AND_DEATH" id="NIGHT_AND_DEATH"></a>NIGHT AND DEATH.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thee from report divine, and heard thy name,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Did he not tremble for this lovely frame,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This glorious canopy of light and blue?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet 'neath the curtain of translucent dew,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And lo! creation widened in man's view.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Within thy beams, O Sun? or who could find,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While fly, and leaf, and insect stood revealed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why do we then shun death with anxious strife?—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If light can thus deceive, wherefore not life?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Joseph Blanco White.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_SKYLARK" id="THE_SKYLARK"></a>THE SKYLARK.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">Bird of the wilderness,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Blithesome and cumberless,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Emblem of happiness,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Blest is thy dwelling-place,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, to abide in the desert with thee!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Wild is thy lay and loud<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Far in the downy cloud,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 105]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where, on thy dewy wing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where art thou journeying?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">O'er fell and fountain sheen,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">O'er moor and mountain green,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Over the cloudlet dim,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Over the rainbow's rim,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Then, when the gloaming comes,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Low in the heather blooms<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Emblem of happiness,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Blest is thy dwelling-place,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, to abide in the desert with thee!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>James Hogg.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_EAGLE" id="THE_EAGLE"></a>THE EAGLE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He clasps the crag with hookéd hands;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Close to the sun in lonely lands,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ringed with the azure world, he stands.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He watches from his mountain walls,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And like a thunderbolt he falls.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 106]</span></p>
<h2><a name="TO_THE_SKYLARK" id="TO_THE_SKYLARK"></a>TO THE SKYLARK.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Hail to thee, blithe spirit!<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Bird thou never wert,—<br /></span>
<span class="i4">That from heaven, or near it,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Pourest thy full heart<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Higher still and higher<br /></span>
<span class="i5">From the earth thou springest,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Like a cloud of fire;<br /></span>
<span class="i5">The blue deep thou wingest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">In the golden lightning<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Of the setting sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">O'er which clouds are brightening,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Thou dost float and run;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like an embodied joy whose race is just begun.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">The pale purple even<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Melts around thy flight;<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Like a star of heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">In the broad daylight<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Keen as are the arrows<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Of that silver sphere,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Whose intense lamp narrows<br /></span>
<span class="i5">In the white dawn clear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 107]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">All the earth and air<br /></span>
<span class="i5">With thy voice is loud,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">As, when night is bare,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">From one lonely cloud<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">What thou art we know not;<br /></span>
<span class="i5">What is most like thee?<br /></span>
<span class="i4">From rainbow clouds there flow not<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Drops so bright to see,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Like a poet hidden<br /></span>
<span class="i5">In the light of thought,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Singing hymns unbidden,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Till the world is wrought<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Like a high-born maiden<br /></span>
<span class="i5">In a palace tower,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Soothing her love-laden<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Soul in secret hour<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Like a glow-worm golden,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">In a dell of dew,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Scattering unbeholden<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Its aerial hue<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 108]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Like a rose embowered<br /></span>
<span class="i5">In its own green leaves,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">By warm winds deflowered,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Till the scent it gives<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingéd thieves.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Sound of vernal showers<br /></span>
<span class="i5">On the twinkling grass,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Rain-awakened flowers,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">All that ever was<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Joyous and fresh and clear thy music doth surpass.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Teach us, sprite or bird,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">What sweet thoughts are thine;<br /></span>
<span class="i4">I have never heard<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Praise of love or wine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Chorus hymeneal,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Or triumphant chant,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Matched with thine, would be all<br /></span>
<span class="i5">But an empty vaunt,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">What objects are the fountains<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Of thy happy strain?<br /></span>
<span class="i4">What fields, or waves, or mountains?<br /></span>
<span class="i5">What shapes of sky or plain?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 109]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">With thy clear keen joyance<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Languor cannot be:<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Shadow of annoyance<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Never came near thee;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Waking or asleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Thou of death must deem<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Things more true and deep<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Than we mortals dream,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">We look before and after,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">And pine for what is not:<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Our sincerest laughter<br /></span>
<span class="i5">With some pain is fraught:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Yet if we could scorn<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Hate, and pride, and fear;<br /></span>
<span class="i4">If we were things born<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Not to shed a tear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know not how thy joy we ever could come near.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Better than all measures<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Of delight and sound,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Better than all treasures<br /></span>
<span class="i5">That in books are found,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Teach me half the gladness<br /></span>
<span class="i5">That thy brain must know,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 110]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i4">Such harmonious madness<br /></span>
<span class="i5">From my lips would flow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The world should listen then, as I am listening now.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TO_THOMAS_MOORE" id="TO_THOMAS_MOORE"></a>TO THOMAS MOORE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My boat is on the shore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And my bark is on the sea;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But, before I go, Tom Moore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Here's a double health to thee!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Here's a sigh for those that love me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And a smile for those who hate;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, whatever sky's above me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Here's a heart for every fate.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Though the ocean roar around me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Yet it still shall bear me on;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though a desert should surround me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">It hath springs that may be won.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Were 't the last drop in the well,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As I gasped upon the brink,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ere my fainting spirit fell<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Tis to thee that I would drink.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With that water, as this wine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The libation I would pour<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 111]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Should be,—Peace with thine and mine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And a health to thee, Tom Moore!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Lord Byron.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_LAST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER" id="THE_LAST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER"></a>THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis the last rose of summer,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Left blooming alone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All her lovely companions<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are faded and gone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No flower of her kindred,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No rosebud is nigh,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To reflect back her blushes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or give sigh for sigh!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To pine on the stem;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since the lovely are sleeping,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Go, sleep thou with them;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thus kindly I scatter<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thy leaves o'er the bed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where thy mates of the garden<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lie scentless and dead.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So soon may I follow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When friendships decay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And from love's shining circle<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The gems drop away!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 112]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">When true hearts lie withered,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And fond ones are flown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, who would inhabit<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This bleak world alone?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Moore.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_FAREWELL1" id="A_FAREWELL1"></a>A FAREWELL.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thy tribute wave deliver;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No more by thee my steps shall be,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forever and forever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A rivulet, then a river;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nowhere by thee my steps shall be,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forever and forever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But here will sigh thine alder-tree,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And here thine aspen shiver;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And here by thee will hum the bee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forever and forever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A thousand suns will stream on thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A thousand moons will quiver;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But not by thee my steps shall be,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forever and forever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 113]</span></p>
<h2><a name="STANZAS" id="STANZAS"></a>STANZAS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My life is like the summer rose<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That opens to the morning sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But, ere the shades of evening close,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is scattered on the ground—to die!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet on the rose's humble bed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sweetest dews of night are shed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As if she wept the waste to see,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But none shall weep a tear for me!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My life is like the autumn leaf<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That trembles in the moon's pale ray;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Its hold is frail—its date is brief,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Restless—and soon to pass away!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The parent tree will mourn its shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The winds bewail the leafless tree,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But none shall breathe a sigh for me!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My life is like the prints which feet<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Have left on Tampa's desert strand;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Soon as the rising tide shall beat,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All trace will vanish from the sand;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet, as if grieving to efface<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All vestige of the human race,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On that lone shore loud moans the sea,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But none, alas! shall mourn for me!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Richard Henry Wilde.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 114]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_LITTLE_YEARS" id="THE_LITTLE_YEARS"></a>THE LITTLE YEARS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">These years! these years! these naughty years!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Once they were pretty things:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their fairy footfalls met our ears,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our eyes their glancing wings.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They flitted by our school-boy way;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We chased the little imps at play.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We knew them, soon, for tricksy elves:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They brought the college gown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With thoughtful books filled up our shelves,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Darkened our lips with down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Played with our throat, and lo! the tone<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of manhood had become our own.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They smiling stretched our childish size;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Their soft hands trimmed our hair;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cast the deep thought within our eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And left it glowing there;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sang songs of hope in college halls,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bright fancies drew upon the walls.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They flashed upon us love's bright gem;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They showed us gleams of fame;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Stout-hearted work we learned from them,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And honor more than name:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And so they came, and went away;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We said not go, we said not stay.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 115]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But one sweet day, when quiet skies<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And still leaves brought me thought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When hazy hills drew forth my eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And woods with deep shade fraught,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That day I carelessly found out<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What work these elves had been about.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Alas! those little rogues, the years,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Had fooled me many a day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plucked half the locks above my ears,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And tinged the rest all gray.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They'd left me wrinkles great and small.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I fear that they have tricked us all.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Well,—give the little years their way;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Think, speak, and act the while;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lift up the bare front to the day,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And make their wrinkles smile.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They mould the noblest living head;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They carve the best tomb for the dead.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert T. S. Lowell.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_AGE_OF_WISDOM" id="THE_AGE_OF_WISDOM"></a>THE AGE OF WISDOM.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ho! pretty page with the dimpled chin,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That never has known the barber's shear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All your wish is woman to win;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This is the way that boys begin,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wait till you come to forty year.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 116]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Curly gold locks cover foolish brains;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Billing and cooing is all your cheer,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sighing, and singing of midnight strains,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Under Bonnybell's window-panes,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wait till you come to forty year.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Forty times over let Michaelmas pass;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Grizzling hair the brain doth clear;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then you know a boy is an ass,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then you know the worth of a lass,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Once you have come to forty year.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Pledge me round; I bid ye declare,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All good fellows whose beards are gray,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did not the fairest of the fair<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Common grow and wearisome ere<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ever a month was passed away?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The reddest lips that ever have kissed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The brightest eyes that ever have shone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May pray and whisper and we not list,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or look away and never be missed,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere yet ever a month is gone.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Gillian's dead! God rest her bier,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How I loved her twenty years syne!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Marian's married; but I sit here,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alone and merry at forty year,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Makepeace Thackeray.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 117]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_LAST_LEAF" id="THE_LAST_LEAF"></a>THE LAST LEAF.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I saw him once before,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As he passed by the door;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And again<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The pavement-stones resound<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As he totters o'er the ground<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With his cane.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They say that in his prime,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ere the pruning-knife of time<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Cut him down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not a better man was found<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By the crier on his round<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Through the town.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But now he walks the streets,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And he looks at all he meets<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Sad and wan;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And he shakes his feeble head,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That it seems as if he said,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">"They are gone."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The mossy marbles rest<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the lips that he has pressed<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In their bloom;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the names he loved to hear<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have been carved for many a year<br /></span>
<span class="i2">On the tomb.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 118]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My grandmamma has said—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Poor old lady! she is dead<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Long ago—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That he had a Roman nose,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And his cheek was like a rose<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In the snow.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But now his nose is thin,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And it rests upon his chin<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Like a staff;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And a crook is in his back,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And a melancholy crack<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In his laugh.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I know it is a sin<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For me to sit and grin<br /></span>
<span class="i2">At him here,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the old three-cornered hat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the breeches,—and all that,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Are so queer!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And if I should live to be<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The last leaf upon the tree<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In the spring,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let them smile, as I do now,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At the old forsaken bough<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where I cling.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 119]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_LOST_LEADER" id="THE_LOST_LEADER"></a>THE LOST LEADER.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Just for a handful of silver he left us:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Found the one gift of which Fortune bereft us,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lost all the others she lets us devote.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So much was theirs who so little allowed:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How all our copper had gone for his service!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Rags,—were they purple, his heart had been proud!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We that had loved him so, followed him, honored him,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Made him our pattern to live and to die!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Burns, Shelley, were with us,—they watch from their graves!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We shall march prospering,—not through his presence;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Songs may inspirit us,—not from his lyre:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his quiescence,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blot out his name then,—record one lost soul more,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One more triumph for devils, and sorrow for angels,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Life's night begins; let him never come back to us!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 120]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Forced praise on our part,—the glimmer of twilight,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Never glad, confident morning again!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Best fight on well, for we taught him,—strike gallantly,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Aim at our heart, ere we pierce through his own;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Browning.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TOO_LATE2" id="TOO_LATE2"></a>TOO LATE.</h2>
<h4>"Ah! si la jeunesse savait,—si la vieillenne pouvait!"</h4>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There sat an old man on a rock,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And unceasing bewailed him of Fate,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That concern where we all must take stock<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Though our vote has no hearing or weight;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And the old man sang him an old, old song,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Never sang voice so clear and strong<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That it could drown the old man's long,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">For he sang the song "Too late! too late!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"When we want, we have for our pains<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The promise that if we but wait<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till the want has burned out of our brains,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Every means shall be present to sate;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">While we send for the napkin the soup gets cold,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">While the bonnet is trimming the face grows old,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When we've matched our buttons the pattern is sold,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">And everything comes too late,—too late!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 121]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"When strawberries seemed like red heavens,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Terrapin stew a wild dream,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When my brain was at sixes and sevens,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If my mother had "folks" and ice-cream,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Then I gazed with a lickerish hunger<br /></span>
<span class="i2">At the restaurant-man and fruit-monger,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But oh! how I wished I were younger<br /></span>
<span class="i3">When the goodies all came in a stream, in a stream!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"I've a splendid blood horse, and—a liver<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That it jars into torture to trot;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My row-boat's the gem of the river,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Gout makes every knuckle a knot!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I can buy boundless credits on Paris and Rome,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But no palate for <i>ménus</i>,—no eyes for a dome,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2"><i>Those</i> belonged to the youth who must tarry at home,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">When no home but an attic he'd got,—he'd got!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"How I longed, in that lonest of garrets,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where the tiles baked my brains all July,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For ground to grow two pecks of carrots,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Two pigs of my own in a sty,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A rosebush,—a little thatched cottage,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Two spoons—love—a basin of pottage!—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Now in freestone I sit,—and my dotage,—<br /></span>
<span class="i3">With a woman's chair empty close by,—close by!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Ah! now, though I sit on a rock,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I have shared one seat with the great;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have sat—knowing naught of the clock—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On love's high throne of state;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 122]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">But the lips that kissed, and the arms that caressed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To a mouth grown stern with delay were pressed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And circled a breast that their clasp had blessed<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Had they only not come too late,—too late!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Fitz-Hugh Ludlow.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_PETITION_TO_TIME" id="A_PETITION_TO_TIME"></a>A PETITION TO TIME.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Touch us gently, Time!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Let us glide adown thy stream<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gently,—as we sometimes glide<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through a quiet dream!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Humble voyagers are we,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Husband, wife, and children three,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">(One is lost,—an angel, fled<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the azure overhead!)<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Touch us gently, Time!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We've not proud nor soaring wings,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our ambition, our content,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lies in simple things.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Humble voyagers are we,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O'er Life's dim, unsounded sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Seeking only some calm clime;—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Touch us gently, gentle Time!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Bryan Waller Procter.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 123]</span></p>
<h2><a name="ICHABOD" id="ICHABOD"></a>ICHABOD.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Which once he wore!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The glory from his gray hairs gone<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Forevermore!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Revile him not,—the tempter hath<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A snare for all!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Befit his fall!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oh! dumb is passion's stormy rage,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When he who might<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have lighted up and led his age,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Falls back in night.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Scorn! Would the angels laugh, to mark<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A bright soul driven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">From hope and heaven?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Let not the land, once proud of him,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Insult him now;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor brand with deeper shame his dim,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Dishonored brow.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But let its humbled sons, instead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">From sea to lake,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A long lament, as for the dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In sadness make.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 124]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Of all we loved and honored, naught<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Save power remains,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A fallen angel's pride of thought,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Still strong in chains.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">All else is gone; from those great eyes<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The soul has fled:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When faith is lost, when honor dies,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The man is dead!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then, pay the reverence of old days<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To his dead fame;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Walk backward, with averted gaze,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And hide the shame!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Greenleaf Whittier.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The heath this night must be my bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bracken curtain for my head,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My lullaby the warder's tread,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Far, far from love and thee, Mary;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My couch may be my bloody plaid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My vesper-song thy wail, sweet maid!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">It will not waken me, Mary!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I may not, dare not, fancy now<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The grief that clouds thy lovely brow;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 125]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">I dare not think upon thy vow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And all it promised me, Mary.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No fond regret must Norman know;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His heart must be like bended bow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">His foot like arrow free, Mary.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A time will come with feeling fraught!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For, if I fall in battle fought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy hapless lover's dying thought<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shall be a thought on thee, Mary:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And if returned from conquered foes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How blithely will the evening close,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How sweet the linnet sing repose<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To my young bride and me, Mary.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Sir Walter Scott.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TO_LUCASTA" id="TO_LUCASTA"></a>TO LUCASTA,</h2>
<h2>ON GOING TO THE WARS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That from the nunnerie<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To warre and armes I flee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">True, a new mistresse now I chase,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The first foe in the field;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And with a stronger faith imbrace<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sword, a horse, a shield.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 126]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet this inconstancy is such<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As you, too, should adore;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I could not love thee, deare, so much,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Loved I not honor more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Richard Lovelace.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_LAND_OF_LANDS" id="THE_LAND_OF_LANDS"></a>THE LAND OF LANDS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">You ask me, why, though ill at ease,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Within this region I subsist,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Whose spirits falter in the mist,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And languish for the purple seas?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is the land that freemen till,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That sober-suited Freedom chose,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The land where, girt with friends or foes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A man may speak the thing he will;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A land of settled government,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A land of just and old renown,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where Freedom broadens slowly down<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From precedent to precedent;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Where faction seldom gathers head,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But by degrees to fulness wrought,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The strength of some diffusive thought<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hath time and space to work and spread.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Should banded unions persecute<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Opinion, and induce a time<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 127]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">When single thought is civil crime,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And individual freedom mute;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Though Power should make from land to land<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The name of Britain trebly great,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Though every channel of the state<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Should almost choke with golden sand,—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet waft me from the harbor-mouth,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And I will see before I die<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The palms and temples of the South.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM" id="THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM"></a>THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Our bugles sang truce; for the night-cloud had lowered,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track:<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 128]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Twas autumn,—and sunshine arose on the way<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From my home and my weeping friends never to part;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Stay, stay with us!—rest; thou art weary and worn!—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Campbell.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MONTEREY" id="MONTEREY"></a>MONTEREY.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We were not many,—we who stood<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Before the iron sleet that day;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet many a gallant spirit would<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Give half his years if but he could<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Have been with us at Monterey.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now here, now there, the shot it hailed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In deadly drifts of fiery spray,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 129]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet not a single soldier quailed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When wounded comrades round them wailed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Their dying shout at Monterey.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And on, still on our column kept,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through walls of flame, its withering way;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where fell the dead, the living stept,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Still charging on the guns which swept<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The slippery streets of Monterey.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The foe himself recoiled aghast,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When, striking where he strongest lay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We swooped his flanking batteries past,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, braving full their murderous blast,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Stormed home the towers of Monterey.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Our banners on those turrets wave,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And there our evening bugles play;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where orange-boughs above their grave<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Keep green the memory of the brave<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Who fought and fell at Monterey.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We are not many,—we who pressed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Beside the brave who fell that day;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But who of us has not confessed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He'd rather share their warrior rest<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Than not have been at Monterey?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Fenno Hoffman.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 130]</span></p>
<h2><a name="A_SONG_OF_THE_CAMP" id="A_SONG_OF_THE_CAMP"></a>A SONG OF THE CAMP.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Give us a song!" the soldiers cried,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The outer trenches guarding,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the heated guns of the camp allied<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Grew weary of bombarding.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The dark Redan, in silent scoff,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lay grim and threatening under;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the tawny mound of the Malakoff<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No longer belched its thunder.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There was a pause. A guardsman said:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"We storm the forts to-morrow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sing while we may, another day<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will bring enough of sorrow."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They lay along the battery's side,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Below the smoking cannon,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And from the banks of Shannon.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They sang of love, and not of fame;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forgot was Britain's glory;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each heart recalled a different name,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But all sang "Annie Laurie."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Voice after voice caught up the song,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Until its tender passion<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rose like an anthem rich and strong,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Their battle-eve confession.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 131]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Dear girl! her name he dared not speak;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But as the song grew louder,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Something upon the soldier's cheek<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Washed off the stains of powder.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beyond the darkening ocean burned<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The bloody sunset's embers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While the Crimean valleys learned<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How English love remembers.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And once again a fire of hell<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Rained on the Russian quarters,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With scream of shot and burst of shell,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And bellowing of the mortars!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And Irish Nora's eyes are dim<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For a singer dumb and gory;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And English Mary mourns for him<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Who sang of "Annie Laurie."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Your truth and valor wearing;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bravest are the tenderest,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The loving are the daring.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Bayard Taylor.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 132]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_CAVALIERS_SONG" id="THE_CAVALIERS_SONG"></a>THE CAVALIER'S SONG.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A steed! a steed of matchlesse speed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sword of metal keene!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All else to noble hearts is drosse,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All else on earth is meane.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The neighyinge of the war-horse prowde,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The rowlinge of the drum,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The clangor of the trumpet lowde,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Be soundes from heaven that come;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And oh! the thundering presse of knightes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whenas their war-cryes swell,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May tole from heaven an angel bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And rouse a fiend from hell.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then mounte! then mounte, brave gallants all,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And don your helmes amaine:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honor, call<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Us to the field againe.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No shrewish teares shall fill our eye<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the sword-hilt's in our hand,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Heart-whole we'll part, and no whit sighe<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For the fayrest of the land.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let piping swaine and craven wight<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thus weepe and puling crye;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our business is like men to fight,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And hero-like to die!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Motherwell.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 133]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_KNIGHTS_TOMB" id="THE_KNIGHTS_TOMB"></a>THE KNIGHT'S TOMB.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where may the grave of that good man be?—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Under the twigs of a young birch tree!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And whistled and roared in the winter alone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is gone,—and the birch in its stead is grown.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The knight's bones are dust,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And his good sword rust;—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His soul is with the saints, I trust.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Samuel Taylor Coleridge.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="CORONACH" id="CORONACH"></a>CORONACH.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He is gone on the mountain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He is lost to the forest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like a summer-dried fountain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When our need was the sorest.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fount reappearing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From the rain-drops shall borrow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But to us comes no cheering,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To Duncan no morrow!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The hand of the reaper<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Takes the ears that are hoary,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 134]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the voice of the weeper<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wails manhood in glory.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The autumn winds, rushing,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Waft the leaves that are searest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But our flower was in flushing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When blighting was nearest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fleet foot on the correi,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sage counsel in cumber,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Red hand in the foray,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How sound is thy slumber!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like the dew on the mountain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like the foam on the river,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like the bubble on the fountain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thou art gone, and forever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Sir Walter Scott.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="DIRGE_FOR_A_SOLDIER" id="DIRGE_FOR_A_SOLDIER"></a>DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Close his eyes; his work is done!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What to him is friend or foeman,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rise of moon or set of sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hand of man or kiss of woman?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Lay him low, lay him low,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In the clover or the snow!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">What cares he? he cannot know;<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Lay him low!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 135]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">As man may, he fought his fight,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Proved his truth by his endeavor;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let him sleep in solemn night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sleep forever and forever.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Lay him low, lay him low,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In the clover or the snow!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">What cares he? he cannot know;<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Lay him low!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fold him in his country's stars,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Roll the drum and fire the volley!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What to him are all our wars?—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What but death bemocking folly?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Lay him low, lay him low,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In the clover or the snow!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">What cares he? he cannot know;<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Lay him low!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Leave him to God's watching eye;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Trust him to the hand that made him.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mortal love weeps idly by;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">God alone has power to aid him.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Lay him low, lay him low,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In the clover or the snow!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">What cares he? he cannot know;<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Lay him low!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>George Henry Boker.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 136]</span></p>
<h2><a name="ODE4" id="ODE4"></a>ODE.</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p><b>Sung on the occasion of decorating the graves of the Confederate
dead at Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S. C., 1867.</b></p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though yet no marble column craves<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The pilgrim here to pause,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In seeds of laurel in the earth<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The blossom of your fame is blown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And somewhere, waiting for its birth,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The shaft is in the stone!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Which keep in trust your storied tombs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Behold! your sisters bring their tears,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And these memorial blooms.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Small tributes! but your shades will smile<br /></span>
<span class="i1">More proudly on these wreaths to-day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than when some cannon-moulded pile<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shall overlook this bay.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">There is no holier spot of ground<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than where defeated valor lies,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">By mourning beauty crowned!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Timrod.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 137]</span></p>
<h2><a name="ODE2" id="ODE2"></a>ODE.</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p><b>Read at Utica, N. Y., on the occasion of decorating the graves
of the Federal dead, May 30, 1872.</b></p></div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They sleep so calm and stately,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Each in his graveyard bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It scarcely seems that lately<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They trod the fields blood-red,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">With fearless tread.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They marched and never halted,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They scaled the parapet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The triple lines assaulted,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And paid without regret<br /></span>
<span class="i3">The final debt.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The debt of slow accruing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A guilty nation made,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The debt of evil doing,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of justice long delayed,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">'Twas this they paid.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">On fields where Strife held riot,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Slaughter fed his hounds,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where came no sense of quiet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor any gentle sounds,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">They made their rounds.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They wrought without repining,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Till, weary watches o'er,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 138]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">They passed the bounds confining<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our green, familiar shore,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Forevermore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And now they sleep so stately,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Each in his graveyard bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So calmly and sedately<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They rest, that once I said:<br /></span>
<span class="i3">"These men are dead.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"They know not what sweet duty<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We come each year to pay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor heed the blooms of beauty,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The garland gifts of May,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Strewn here to-day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"The night-time and the day-time,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The rise and set of sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The winter and the May-time,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To them whose work is done,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Are all as one."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then o'er mine eyes there floated<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A vision of the Land<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where their brave souls, promoted<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To Heaven's own armies, stand<br /></span>
<span class="i3">At God's right hand.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From out the mighty distance<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I seemed to see them gaze<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 139]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Back on their old existence,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Back on the battle-blaze<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Of war's dread days.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"The flowers shall fade and perish<br /></span>
<span class="i1">(In larger faith spake I),<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But these dear names we cherish<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are written in the sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">And cannot die."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Theodore P. Cook.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ODE1" id="ODE1"></a>ODE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">How sleep the brave who sink to rest<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By all their country's wishes blessed!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Returns to deck their hallowed mould,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She there shall dress a sweeter sod<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">By fairy hands their knell is rung;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By forms unseen their dirge is sung;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To bless the turf that wraps their clay;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Freedom shall awhile repair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To dwell a weeping hermit there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Collins.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 140]</span></p>
<h2><a name="DRIVING_HOME_THE_COWS" id="DRIVING_HOME_THE_COWS"></a>DRIVING HOME THE COWS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He turned them into the river-lane;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One after another he let them pass,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then fastened the meadow bars again.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Under the willows, and over the hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He patiently followed their sober pace;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The merry whistle for once was still,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And something shadowed the sunny face.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Only a boy! and his father had said<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He never could let his youngest go;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Two already were lying dead<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Under the feet of the trampling foe.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But after the evening work was done,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Over his shoulder he slung his gun<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And stealthily followed the foot-path damp.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Across the clover and through the wheat<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With resolute heart and purpose grim,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the blind bat's flitting startled him.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thrice since then had the lanes been white,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And now, when the cows came back at night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The feeble father drove them home.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 141]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For news had come to the lonely farm<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That three were lying where two had lain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Could never lean on a son's again.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The summer day grew cool and late,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He went for the cows when the work was done;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But down the lane, as he opened the gate,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He saw them coming one by one,—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shaking their horns in the evening wind;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cropping the buttercups out of the grass,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But who was it following close behind?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Loosely swung in the idle air<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The empty sleeve of army blue;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And worn and pale, from the crisping hair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Looked out a face that the father knew.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For Southern prisons will sometimes yawn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And yield their dead unto life again;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In golden glory at last may wane.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And under the silent evening skies<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Together they followed the cattle home.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Kate Putnam Osgood.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 142]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_BRAVE_AT_HOME" id="THE_BRAVE_AT_HOME"></a>THE BRAVE AT HOME.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The maid who binds her warrior's sash<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With smile that well her pain dissembles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The while beneath her drooping lash<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though Heaven alone records the tear,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Fame shall never know her story,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her heart has shed a drop as dear<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As e'er bedewed the field of glory!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wife who girds her husband's sword,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Mid little ones who weep or wonder,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And bravely speaks the cheering word,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What though her heart be rent asunder,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The bolts of death around him rattle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was poured upon the field of battle!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The mother who conceals her grief<br /></span>
<span class="i1">While to her breast her son she presses,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then breathes a few brave words and brief,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Kissing the patriot brow she blesses,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With no one but her secret God<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To know the pain that weighs upon her,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Received on Freedom's field of honor!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Buchanan Read.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 143]</span></p>
<h2><a name="ON_HIS_BLINDNESS" id="ON_HIS_BLINDNESS"></a>ON HIS BLINDNESS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When I consider how my light is spent<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And that one talent which is death to hide,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To serve therewith my Maker, and present<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My true account, lest he returning chide;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Either man's work or his own gifts; who best<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And post o'er land and ocean without rest;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">They also serve who only stand and wait."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Milton.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_THREE_FISHERS" id="THE_THREE_FISHERS"></a>THE THREE FISHERS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Three fishers went sailing out into the west,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Out into the west, as the sun went down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the children stood watching them out of the town;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For men must work, and women must weep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And there's little to earn, and many to keep,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Though the harbor-bar be moaning.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 144]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But men must work, and women must weep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the harbor-bar be moaning.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Three corpses lie out on the shining sands,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the morning gleam, as the tide goes down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the women are weeping and wringing their hands,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For those who will never come home to the town.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For men must work, and women must weep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And good by to the bar and its moaning.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Kingsley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="HEROES" id="HEROES"></a>HEROES.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The winds that once the Argo bore<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Have died by Neptune's ruined shrines:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And her hull is the drift of the deep-sea floor,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Though shaped of Pelion's tallest pines.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You may seek her crew on every isle<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Fair in the foam of Ægean seas;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But out of their rest no charm can wile<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Jason and Orpheus and Hercules.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And Priam's wail is heard no more<br /></span>
<span class="i1">By windy Ilion's sea-built walls;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor great Achilles, stained with gore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Cries, "O ye gods, 'tis Hector falls!"<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 145]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">On Ida's mount is the shining snow;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But Jove has gone from its brow away;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And red on the plain the poppies grow<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where the Greek and the Trojan fought that day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Mother Earth, are the heroes dead?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Do they thrill the soul of the years no more?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are the gleaming snows and the poppies red<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All that is left of the brave of yore?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are there none to fight as Theseus fought,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Far in the young world's misty dawn?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or to teach as the gray-haired Nestor taught?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Mother Earth, are the heroes gone?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Gone? In a grander form they rise!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dead? We may clasp their hands in ours,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And catch the light of their clearer eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And wreathe their brows with immortal flowers!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wherever a noble deed is done,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Tis the pulse of a hero's heart is stirred;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wherever the Right has a triumph won,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">There are the heroes' voices heard.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Their armor rings on a fairer field<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Than the Greek or the Trojan ever trod:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For Freedom's sword is the blade they wield,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the light above is the smile of God.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So in his isle of calm delight<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Jason may sleep the years away;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the heroes live, and the skies are bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the world is a braver world to-day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Edna Dean Proctor.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 146]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_ARSENAL_AT_SPRINGFIELD" id="THE_ARSENAL_AT_SPRINGFIELD"></a>THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">This is the arsenal. From floor to ceiling,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Startles the villages with strange alarms.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the death-angel touches those swift keys!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What loud lament and dismal Miserere<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will mingle with their awful symphonies!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The cries of agony, the endless groan,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which, through the ages that have gone before us,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In long reverberations reach our own.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And loud, amid the universal clamor,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I hear the Florentine, who from his palace<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Aztec priests upon their teocallis<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The tumult of each sacked and burning village;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The wail of famine in beleaguered towns;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 147]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The rattling musketry, the clashing blade;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And ever and anon, in tones of thunder,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The diapason of the cannonade.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Is it, O man, with such discordant noises,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With such accursed instruments as these,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And jarrest the celestial harmonies?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Were half the power that fills the world with terror,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Given to redeem the human mind from error,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">There were no need of arsenals or forts;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The warrior's name would be a name abhorréd;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And every nation that should lift again<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Its hand against a brother, on its forehead<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Down the dark future, through long generations,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Peace!—and no longer from its brazen portals<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The blast of war's great organ shakes the skies;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But, beautiful as songs of the immortals,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The holy melodies of love arise.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 148]</span></p>
<h2><a name="ODE3" id="ODE3"></a>ODE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">What constitutes a state?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not high raised battlement or labored mound,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Thick wall or moated gate;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Not bays and broad-armed ports,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Not starred and spangled courts,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">No: men, high-minded men,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With powers as far above dull brutes endued<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In forest, brake, or den,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Men who their duties know,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Prevent the long-aimed blow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">These constitute a state;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sovereign law, that state's collected will,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">O'er thrones and globes elate,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Smit by her sacred frown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fiend Dissension like a vapor sinks;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And e'en the all-dazzling crown<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Such was this heaven-loved isle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">No more shall freedom smile?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall Britons languish, and be men no more?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 149]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">Since all must life resign,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave<br /></span>
<span class="i2">'Tis folly to decline,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And steal inglorious to the silent grave.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Sir William Jones.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="PHILIP_MY_KING" id="PHILIP_MY_KING"></a>PHILIP, MY KING.</h2>
<div class="blockquot">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><b>"Who bears upon his baby brow the round</b><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><b>And top of sovereignty."</b><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Look at me with thy large brown eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Philip, my king!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For round thee the purple shadow lies<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of babyhood's royal dignities.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lay on my neck thy tiny hand<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With Love's invisible sceptre laden;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am thine Esther, to command<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Till thou shalt find thy queen-handmaiden,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Philip, my king!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O, the day when thou goest a-wooing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Philip, my king!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When those beautiful lips 'gin suing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, some gentle heart's bars undoing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou dost enter, love-crowned, and there<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sittest love-glorified!—Rule kindly,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tenderly over thy kingdom fair;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For we that love, ah! we love so blindly,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Philip, my king!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 150]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Up from thy sweet mouth,—up to thy brow,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Philip, my king!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The spirit that there lies sleeping now<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May rise like a giant, and make men bow<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As to one Heaven-chosen amongst his peers.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My Saul, than thy brethren taller and fairer<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let me behold thee in future years!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Yet thy head needeth a circlet rarer,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Philip, my king;—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A wreath not of gold, but palm. One day,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Philip, my king,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou too must tread, as we trod, a way<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thorny, and cruel, and cold, and gray;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rebels within thee and foes without<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will snatch at thy crown. But march on, glorious,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Martyr, yet monarch; till angels shout,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As thou sitt'st at the feet of God victorious,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">"Philip, the king!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="HOWS_MY_BOY" id="HOWS_MY_BOY"></a>HOW'S MY BOY?</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Ho, sailor of the sea!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How's my boy,—my boy?"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"What's your boy's name, good wife,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And in what ship sailed he?"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"My boy John,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He that went to sea,—<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 151]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">What care I for the ship, sailor?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My boy's my boy to me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"You come back from sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And not know my John?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I might as well have asked some landsman,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yonder down in the town.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's not an ass in all the parish<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But knows my John.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"How's my boy,—my boy?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And unless you let me know,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll swear you are no sailor,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Blue jacket or no,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Brass buttons or no, sailor,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Anchor and crown or no,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sure his ship was the 'Jolly Briton'"—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"Speak low, woman, speak low!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"And why should I speak low, sailor,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">About my own boy John?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If I was loud as I am proud<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'd sing him over the town!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why should I speak low, sailor?"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"That good ship went down."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"How's my boy,—my boy?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What care I for the ship, sailor?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was never aboard her.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Be she afloat or be she aground,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 152]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her owners can afford her!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I say, how's my John?"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"Every man on board went down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Every man aboard her."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"How's my boy,—my boy?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What care I for the men, sailor?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'm not their mother,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How's my boy,—my boy?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell me of him and no other!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How's my boy,—my boy?"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Sydney Dobell.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_CHILDRENS_HOUR" id="THE_CHILDRENS_HOUR"></a>THE CHILDREN'S HOUR.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Between the dark and the daylight,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When the night is beginning to lower,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Comes a pause in the day's occupations<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That is known as the children's hour,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I hear in the chamber above me<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The patter of little feet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sound of a door that is opened,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And voices soft and sweet.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From my study I see in the lamplight,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Descending the broad hall-stair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Edith with golden hair.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 153]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A whisper, and then a silence;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Yet I know by their merry eyes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are plotting and planning together<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To take me by surprise.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A sudden rush from the stairway,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A sudden raid from the hall:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By three doors left unguarded<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They enter my castle wall.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They climb up into my turret<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O'er the arms and back of my chair;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If I try to escape, they surround me:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They seem to be everywhere.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They almost devour me with kisses;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Their arms about me entwine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Because you have scaled the wall,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Such an old mustache as I am<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is not a match for you all?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have you fast in my fortress,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And will not let you depart,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But put you down into the dungeon<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the round tower of my heart.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 154]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And there will I keep you forever,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Yes, forever and a day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And moulder in dust away.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MY_CHILD" id="MY_CHILD"></a>MY CHILD.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">I cannot make him dead!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">His fair sunshiny head<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is ever bounding round my study chair;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Yet when my eyes, now dim<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With tears, I turn to him,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The vision vanishes,—he is not there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">I walk my parlor floor,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And through the open door<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I hear a footfall on the chamber stair;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I'm stepping toward the hall<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To give the boy a call;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then bethink me that—he is not there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">I thread the crowded street;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A satchelled lad I meet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With the same beaming eyes and colored hair;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And, as he's running by,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Follow him with my eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Scarcely believing that—he is not there!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 155]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">I know his face is hid<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Under the coffin lid;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Closed are his eyes; cold is his forehead fair;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My hand that marble felt;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">O'er it in prayer I knelt;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet my heart whispers that—he is not there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">I cannot make him dead!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When passing by the bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So long watched over with parental care,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My spirit and my eye<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Seek him inquiringly,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Before the thought comes that—he is not there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">When, at the cool gray break<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of day, from sleep I wake,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With my first breathing of the morning air<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My soul goes up, with joy,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To Him who gave my boy;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then comes the sad thought that—he is not there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">When at the day's calm close,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Before we seek repose,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'm with his mother, offering up our prayer;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Whate'er I may be saying,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I am in spirit praying<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For our boy's spirit, though—he is not there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">Not there!—Where, then, is he?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The form I used to see<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Was but the raiment that he used to wear.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 156]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">The grave, that now doth press<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Upon that cast-off dress,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is but his wardrobe locked;—he is not there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">He lives!—In all the past<br /></span>
<span class="i2">He lives; nor, to the last,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of seeing him again will I despair;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In dreams I see him now;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And on his angel brow<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I see it written, "Thou shalt see me <i>there</i>!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">Yes, we all live to God!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Father, thy chastening rod<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So help us, thine afflicted ones, to bear,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That in the spirit-land,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Meeting at thy right hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Twill be our heaven to find that—he is there!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Pierpont.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL" id="THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL"></a>THE LAND O' THE LEAL.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'm wearin' awa', John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'm wearin' awa'<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's nae sorrow there, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's neither cauld nor care, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The day is aye fair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the land o' the leal.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 157]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Our bonnie bairn's there, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She was baith gude and fair, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And oh! we grudged her sair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And joy's a-comin' fast, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The joy that's aye to last<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sae dear's that joy was bought, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sae free the battle fought, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That sinfu' man e'er brought<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh! dry your glist'ning e'e, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My saul langs to be free, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And angels beckon me<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oh! haud ye leal and true, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your day it's wearin' thro', John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I'll welcome you<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now fare ye weel, my ain John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This warld's cares are vain, John,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We'll meet, and we'll be fain,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Lady Nairne.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 158]</span></p>
<h2><a name="LAMENT_OF_THE_IRISH_EMIGRANT" id="LAMENT_OF_THE_IRISH_EMIGRANT"></a>LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where we sat side by side<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On a bright May mornin' long ago,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When first you were my bride;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The corn was springin' fresh and green,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the lark sang loud and high;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the red was on your lip, Mary,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the love-light in your eye.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The place is little changed, Mary;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The day is bright as then;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lark's loud song is in my ear,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the corn is green again;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And your breath, warm on my cheek;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I still keep list'nin' for the words<br /></span>
<span class="i1">You never more will speak.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis but a step down yonder lane,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the little church stands near,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The church where we were wed, Mary;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I see the spire from here.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the graveyard lies between, Mary,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And my step might break your rest,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With your baby on your breast.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'm very lonely now, Mary,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For the poor make no new friends;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 159]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">But, oh! they love the better still<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The few our Father sends!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And you were all I had, Mary,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My blessin' and my pride:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's nothing left to care for now,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Since my poor Mary died.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That still kept hoping on,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the trust in God had left my soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And my arm's young strength was gone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There was comfort ever on your lip,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the kind look on your brow,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I bless you, Mary, for that same,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Though you cannot hear me now.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I thank you for the patient smile<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When your heart was fit to break,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the hunger-pain was gnawin' there,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And you hid it for my sake;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I bless you for the pleasant word,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When your heart was sad and sore,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Oh! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where grief can't reach you more!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'm biddin' you a long farewell,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My Mary,—kind and true!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I'll not forget you, darling,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the land I'm goin' to;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They say there's bread and work for all,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the sun shines always there,—<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 160]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I'll not forget old Ireland,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Were it fifty times as fair!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And often in those grand old woods<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'll sit, and shut my eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And my heart will travel back again<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the place where Mary lies;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I'll think I see the little stile<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where we sat side by side,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the springin' corn, and the bright May morn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When first you were my bride.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Lady Dufferin.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_DEATH-BED" id="THE_DEATH-BED"></a>THE DEATH-BED.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We watched her breathing through the night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her breathing soft and low,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As in her breast the wave of life<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Kept heaving to and fro.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So silently we seemed to speak,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So slowly moved about,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As we had lent her half our powers<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To eke her living out.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Our very hopes belied our fears,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our fears our hopes belied,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We thought her dying when she slept,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And sleeping when she died.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 161]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For when the morn came, dim and sad,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And chill with early showers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her quiet eyelids closed,—she had<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Another morn than ours.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Hood.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="EVELYN_HOPE" id="EVELYN_HOPE"></a>EVELYN HOPE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sit and watch by her side an hour.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That is her book-shelf, this her bed;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She plucked that piece of geranium flower,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beginning to die, too, in the glass.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Little has yet been changed, I think,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The shutters are shut, no light may pass,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Save two long rays through the hinge's chink.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sixteen years old when she died!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It was not her time to love: beside,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her life had many a hope and aim,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Duties enough and little cares;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And now was quiet, now astir,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till God's hand beckoned unawares,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the sweet white brow is all of her.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What! your soul was pure and true;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The good stars met in your horoscope,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Made you of spirit, fire, and dew,—<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 162]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And just because I was thrice as old,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And our paths in the world diverged so wide,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each was naught to each, must I be told?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We were fellow-mortals,—naught beside?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No, indeed! for God above<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is great to grant, as mighty to make,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And creates the love to reward the love,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I claim you still, for my own love's sake!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Delayed, it may be, for more lives yet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Much is to learn and much to forget<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ere the time be come for taking you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But the time will come—at last it will—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the lower earth, in the years long still,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That body and soul so pure and gay?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why your hair was amber, I shall divine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And your mouth of your own geranium's red,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And what you would do with me, in fine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the new life come in the old one's stead.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I have lived, I shall say, so much since then,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Given up myself so many times,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gained me the gains of various men,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Either I missed or itself missed me,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What is the issue? let us see!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 163]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I loved you, Evelyn, all the while;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My heart seemed full as it could hold,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There was space and to spare for the frank young smile,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So hush,—I will give you this leaf to keep,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There, that is our secret! go to sleep;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">You will wake, and remember, and understand.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Browning.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_BRIDAL_DIRGE" id="A_BRIDAL_DIRGE"></a>A BRIDAL DIRGE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Weave no more the marriage-chain!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All unmated is the lover;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Death has ta'en the place of Pain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Love doth call on Love in vain:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Life and years of hope are over!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No more want of marriage-bell!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No more need of bridal favor!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where is she to wear them well?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You beside the lover tell!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Gone,—with all the love he gave her!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Paler than the stone she lies;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Colder than the winter's morning!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wherefore did she thus despise<br /></span>
<span class="i0">(She with pity in her eyes)<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Mother's care and lover's warning?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 164]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Youth and beauty,—shall they not<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Last beyond a brief to-morrow?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No: a prayer, and then forgot!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This the truest lover's lot;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This the sum of human sorrow!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Bryan Waller Procter.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY" id="SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY"></a>SHE DIED IN BEAUTY.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She died in beauty,—like a rose<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Blown from its parent stem;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She died in beauty,—like a pearl<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dropped from some diadem.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She died in beauty,—like a lay<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Along a moonlit lake;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She died in beauty,—like the song<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of birds amid the brake.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She died in beauty,—like the snow<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On flowers dissolved away;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She died in beauty,—like a star<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lost on the brow of day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She lives in glory,—like night's gems<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Set round the silver moon;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She lives in glory,—like the sun<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Amid the blue of June.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Doyne Sillery.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 165]</span></p>
<h2><a name="SHE_WAS_NOT_FAIR_NOR_FULL_OF_GRACE" id="SHE_WAS_NOT_FAIR_NOR_FULL_OF_GRACE"></a>SHE WAS NOT FAIR, NOR FULL OF GRACE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She was not fair, nor full of grace,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor crowned with thought or aught beside;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor wealth had she, of mind or face,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To win our love or raise our pride;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No lover's thought her cheek did touch;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No poet's dream was round her thrown;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And yet we miss her,—ah, too much,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Now—she hath flown!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We miss her when the morning calls,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As one that mingled in our mirth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We miss her when the evening falls,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A trifle wanted on the earth!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Some fancy small, or subtile thought,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is checked ere to its blossom grown;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Some chain is broken that we wrought,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Now—she hath flown!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No solid good, nor hope defined,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is marred now she has sunk in night;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And yet the strong immortal Mind<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is stopped in its triumphant flight!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Perhaps some grain lost to its sphere<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Might cast the great Sun from his throne;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For all we know is—"She was here,"<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And—"She hath flown!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Bryan Waller Procter.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 166]</span></p>
<h2><a name="HIGHLAND_MARY" id="HIGHLAND_MARY"></a>HIGHLAND MARY.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ye banks, and braes, and streams around<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The castle o' Montgomery,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Your waters never drumlie!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There simmer first unfald her robes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And there the langest tarry!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For there I took the last fareweel<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O' my sweet Highland Mary.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How rich the hawthorn blossom!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As, underneath their fragrant shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I clasped her to my bosom!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The golden hours, on angel wings,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Flew o'er me and my dearie;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For dear to me as light and life<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was my sweet Highland Mary.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Wi' monie a vow and locked embrace<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Our parting was fu' tender;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And pledging aft to meet again,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We tore ourselves asunder;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But oh! fell death's untimely frost,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That nipt my flower sae early!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That wraps my Highland Mary!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O pale, pale now, those rosy lips<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I aft hae kissed sae fondly!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 167]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And closed for aye the sparkling glance<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That dwelt on me sae kindly!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And mouldering now in silent dust<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That heart that lo'ed me dearly!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But still within my bosom's core<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shall live my Highland Mary.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Burns.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TOO_LATE1" id="TOO_LATE1"></a>TOO LATE!</h2>
<h4>"Douglas, Douglas, tendir and treu."</h4>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the old likeness that I knew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Never a scornful word should grieve ye,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O to call back the days that are not!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My eyes were blinded, your words were few;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Do you know the truth now up in heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I never was worthy of you, Douglas,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Not half worthy the like of you;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 168]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now all men beside seem to me like shadows,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I love <i>you</i>, Douglas, tender and true.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TOM_BOWLING" id="TOM_BOWLING"></a>TOM BOWLING.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The darling of our crew;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No more he'll hear the tempest howling,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For death has broached him to.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His form was of the manliest beauty;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">His heart was kind and soft;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Faithful below, he did his duty;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But now he's gone aloft.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tom never from his word departed,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">His virtues were so rare;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His friends were many and true-hearted;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">His Poll was kind and fair.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah, many's the time and oft!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But mirth is turned to melancholy,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For Tom is gone aloft.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 169]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When He, who all commands,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall give, to call life's crew together,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The word to pipe all hands.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In vain Tom's life has doffed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For, though his body's under hatches,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">His soul is gone aloft.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Dibdin.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="JOSEPH_RODMAN_DRAKE" id="JOSEPH_RODMAN_DRAKE"></a>JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Green be the turf above thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Friend of my better days!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">None knew thee but to love thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor named thee but to praise.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tears fell, when thou wert dying,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From eyes unused to weep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And long, where thou art lying,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will tears the cold turf steep.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When hearts whose truth was proven,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like thine, are laid in earth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There should a wreath be woven<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To tell the world their worth;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And I, who woke each morrow<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To clasp thy hand in mine,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 170]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who shared thy joy and sorrow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whose weal and woe were thine,—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It should be mine to braid it<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Around thy faded brow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I've in vain essayed it,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And feel I cannot now.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">While memory bids me weep thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor thoughts nor words are free,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The grief is fixed too deeply<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That mourns a man like thee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Fitz-Greene Halleck.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="SHE_IS_FAR_FROM_THE_LAND" id="SHE_IS_FAR_FROM_THE_LAND"></a>SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And lovers are round her sighing;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For her heart in his grave is lying!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Every note which he loved awaking;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He had lived for his love, for his country he died,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They were all that to life had entwined him;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor long will his love stay behind him.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 171]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When they promise a glorious morrow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the west,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From her own loved island of sorrow!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Moore.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MINSTRELS_SONG" id="MINSTRELS_SONG"></a>MINSTREL'S SONG.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O sing unto my roundelay!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O, drop the briny tear with me!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dance no more at holiday;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like a running river be.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Black his hair as the winter night,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">White his neck as the summer snow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ruddy his face as the morning light;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Cold he lies in the grave below.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Quick in dance as thought can be;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O, he lies by the willow tree!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 172]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hark! the raven flaps his wing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In the briered dell below;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To the nightmares as they go.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">See! the white moon shines on high;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whiter is my true-love's shroud,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whiter than the morning sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whiter than the evening cloud.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Here, upon my true-love's grave<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shall the barren flowers be laid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor one holy saint to save<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All the coldness of a maid.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With my hands I'll bind the briers<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Round his holy corse to gre;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ouphant fairy, light your fires;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Here my body still shall be.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 173]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Come, with acorn-cup and thorn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Drain my heart's blood all away;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Life and all its good I scorn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dance by night, or feast by day.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Gone to his death bed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All under the willow tree.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Water-witches, crowned with reytes,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Bear me to your lethal tide.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I die! I come! my true-love waits.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thus the damsel spake, and died.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas Chatterton.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="IN_MEMORIAM" id="IN_MEMORIAM"></a>IN MEMORIAM.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Farewell! since nevermore for thee<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The sun comes up our earthly skies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Less bright henceforth shall sunshine be<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To some fond hearts and saddened eyes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There are who for thy last long sleep<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shall sleep as sweetly nevermore,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall weep because thou canst not weep,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And grieve that all thy griefs are o'er.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sad thrift of love! the loving breast,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On which the aching head was thrown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gave up the weary head to rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But kept the aching for its own.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Thomas K. Hervey.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 174]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD" id="THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD"></a>THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They grew in beauty, side by side,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">They filled one home with glee,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their graves are severed far and wide,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">By mount, and stream, and sea.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The same fond mother bent at night<br /></span>
<span class="i2">O'er each fair sleeping brow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She had each folded flower in sight,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where are those dreamers now?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">One, 'midst the forests of the West,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">By a dark stream is laid,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Indian knows his place of rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Far in the cedar shade.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">He lies where pearls lie deep;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He was the loved of all, yet none<br /></span>
<span class="i2">O'er his low bed may weep.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">One sleeps where southern vines are dressed<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Above the noble slain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He wrapped his colors round his breast,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">On a blood-red field of Spain.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And one,—o'er her the myrtle showers<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Its leaves, by soft winds fanned;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She faded 'midst Italian flowers,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The last of that bright band.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 175]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And parted thus they rest, who played<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Beneath the same green tree;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whose voices mingled as they prayed<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Around one parent knee!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They that with smiles lit up the hall,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And cheered with song the hearth,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for love! if <i>thou</i> wert all,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And naught beyond, O earth!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Felicia Hemans.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_HERMIT" id="THE_HERMIT"></a>THE HERMIT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And naught but the nightingale's song in the grove,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">While his harp rang symphonious, a hermit began;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No more with himself or with nature at war,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man:<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Ah! why, all abandoned to darkness and woe,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthrall.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass away!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Full quickly they pass,—but they never return.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 176]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Now, gliding remote on the verge of the sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The moon, half extinguished, her crescent displays;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But lately I marked when majestic on high<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The path that conducts thee to splendor again!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But man's faded glory what change shall renew?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I mourn,—but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For morn is approaching your charms to restore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Kind nature the embryo blossom will save;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My thoughts wont to roam from shade onward to shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'O pity, great Father of light,' then I cried,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free.'<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"And darkness and doubt are now flying away:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So breaks on the traveller, faint and astray,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 177]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">See truth, love, and mercy in triumph descending,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>James Beattie.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="O_WHY_SHOULD_THE_SPIRIT_OF_MORTAL_BE" id="O_WHY_SHOULD_THE_SPIRIT_OF_MORTAL_BE"></a>O, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD?</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O why should the spirit of mortal be proud?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Man passes from life to his rest in the grave.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Be scattered around and together be laid;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the young and the old, and the low and the high,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The infant a mother attended and loved,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The mother that infant's affection who proved,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The husband that mother and infant who blessed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shone beauty and pleasure,—her triumphs are by;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the memory of those who have loved her and praised,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are alike from the minds of the living erased.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 178]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The beggar who wandered in search of his bread,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have faded away like the grass that we tread.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That withers away to let others succeed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So the multitude comes, even those we behold,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To repeat every tale that has often been told.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For we are the same that our fathers have been;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We see the same sights that our fathers have seen,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We drink the same stream, and we view the same sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And run the same course that our fathers have run.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the death that we shrink from our fathers would shrink;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the life that we cling to they also would cling;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They loved, but the story we cannot unfold;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 179]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They died, ay! they died: and we things that are now,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who make in their dwelling a transient abode,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We mingle together in sunshine and rain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the smiles and the tears, the song and the dirge,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Knox.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="PROGRESS" id="PROGRESS"></a>PROGRESS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When Liberty lives loud on every lip,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But Freedom moans,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Trampled by nations whose faint footfalls slip<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Round bloody thrones;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When, here and there, in dungeon and in thrall,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Or exile pale,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like torches dying at a funeral,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Brave natures fail;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Truth, the armed archangel, stretches wide<br /></span>
<span class="i2">God's tromp in vain,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 180]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the world, drowsing, turns upon its side<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To drowse again;—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O Man, whose course hath called itself sublime<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Since it began,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What art thou in such dying age of time,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">As man to man?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When Love's last wrong hath been forgotten coldly,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">As First Love's face;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, like a rat that comes to wanton boldly<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In some lone place,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Once festal, in the realm of light and laughter<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Grim Doubt appears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whilst weird suggestions from Death's vague Hereafter,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">O'er ruined years,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Creep, dark and darker, with new dread to mutter<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Through life's long shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet make no more in the chill breast the flutter<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Which once they made:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whether it be, that all doth at the grave<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Round to its term,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That nothing lives in that last darkness, save<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The little worm,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or whether the tired spirit prolong its course<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Through realms unseen,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Secure, that unknown world cannot be worse<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Than this hath been:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then when thro' Thought's gold chain, so frail and slender,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">No link will meet;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When all the broken harps of Language render<br /></span>
<span class="i2">No sound that's sweet;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 181]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">When, like torn books, sad days weigh down each other<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I' the dusty shelf;—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O Man, what art thou, O my friend, my brother,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Even to thyself?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Robert Bulwer Lytton.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_LITTLE_BLACK_BOY" id="THE_LITTLE_BLACK_BOY"></a>THE LITTLE BLACK BOY.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My mother bore me in the southern wild,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And I am black; but, O, my soul is white!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">White as an angel is the English child,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But I am black as if bereaved of light.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My mother taught me underneath a tree;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And, sitting down before the heat of day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She took me on her lap, and kisséd me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And, pointing to the east, began to say:—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Look on the rising sun; there God does live,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And gives his light, and gives his heat away;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And flowers and trees, and beasts and men, receive<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"And we are put on earth a little space,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That we may learn to bear the beams of love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And these black bodies and this sunburnt face<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 182]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"For when our souls have learned the heat to bear,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The clouds will vanish; we shall hear his voice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Saving: 'Come from the grove, my love and care,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.'"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thus did my mother say and kisséd me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And thus I say to little English boy;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When I from black, and he from white cloud free,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And be like him, and he will then love me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Blake.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="DEATHS_FINAL_CONQUEST" id="DEATHS_FINAL_CONQUEST"></a>DEATHS FINAL CONQUEST.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The glories of our birth and state<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are shadows, not substantial things;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There is no armor against fate,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Death lays his icy hands on kings;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Sceptre and crown<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Must tumble down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And in the dust be equal made<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With the poor crooked scythe and spade.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 183]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Some men with swords may reap the field,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And plant fresh laurels where they kill;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But their strong nerves at last must yield,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">They tame but one another still;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Early or late<br /></span>
<span class="i2">They stoop to fate,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And must give up their murmuring breath,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When they, pale captives, creep to death.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The garlands wither on your brow,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then boast no more your mighty deeds;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon death's purple altar, now,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">See where the victor victim bleeds!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">All heads must come<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To the cold tomb,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Only the actions of the just<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>James Shirley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TO_AN_INDIAN_GOLD_COIN" id="TO_AN_INDIAN_GOLD_COIN"></a>TO AN INDIAN GOLD COIN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Slave of the dark and dirty mine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What vanity has brought thee here?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How can I love to see thee shine<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So bright, whom I have bought so dear?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The tent-ropes flapping lone I hear<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For twilight converse, arm in arm;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 184]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i1">The jackal's shriek bursts on mine ear<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When mirth and music wont to charm.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">By Cherical's dark wandering streams,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of Teviot loved while still a child,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of castled rocks stupendous piled<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By Esk or Eden's classic wave,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where loves of youth and friendship smiled,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Uncursed by thee, vile yellow slave!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fade, day-dreams sweet, from memory fade!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The perished bliss of youth's first prime,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That once so bright on fancy played,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Revives no more in after-time.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Far from my sacred natal clime,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I haste to an untimely grave;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The daring thoughts that soared sublime<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are sunk in ocean's southern wave.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Slave of the mine, thy yellow light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A gentle vision comes by night<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My lonely widowed heart to cheer:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her eyes are dim with many a tear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That once were guiding stars to mine:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her fond heart throbs with many a fear!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I cannot bear to see thee shine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I left a heart that loved me true!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 185]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">I crossed the tedious ocean-wave,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To roam in climes unkind and new.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The cold wind of the stranger blew<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Chill on my withered heart; the grave<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dark and untimely met my view,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all for thee, vile yellow slave!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ha! com'st thou now so late to mock<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A wanderer's banished heart forlorn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now that his frame the lightning shock<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of sun-rays tipped with death has borne?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From love, from friendship, country, torn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To memory's fond regrets the prey,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Go mix thee with thy kindred clay!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Leyden.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="GOING_HOME" id="GOING_HOME"></a>GOING HOME.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Drawn by horses with decorous feet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A carriage for one went through the street,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Polished as anthracite out of the mine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tossing its plumes so stately and fine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As nods to the night a Norway pine.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The passenger lay in Parian rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As if, by the sculptor's hand caressed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A mortal life through the marble stole,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then till an angel calls the roll<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It waits awhile for a human soul.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 186]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He rode in state, but his carriage-fare<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Was left unpaid to his only heir;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hardly a man, from hovel to throne,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Takes to this route in coach of his own,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But borrows at last and travels alone.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The driver sat in his silent seat;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The world, as still as a field of wheat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gave all the road to the speechless twain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thought the passenger never again<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Should travel that way with living men.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Not a robin held its little breath,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But sang right on in the face of death;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You never would dream, to see the sky<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Give glance for glance to the violet's eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That aught between them could ever die.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A wain bound east met the hearse bound west,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Halted a moment, and passed abreast;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I verily think a stranger pair<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have never met on a thoroughfare,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or a dim by-road, or anywhere:<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The hearse as slim and glossy and still<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As silken thread at a woman's will,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who watches her work with tears unshed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Broiders a grief with needle and thread,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mourns in pansies and cypress the dead;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Spotless the steeds in a satin dress,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That run for two worlds the Lord's Express,—<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 187]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Long as the route of Arcturus's ray,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Brief as the Publican's trying to pray,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No other steeds by no other way<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Could go so far in a single day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">From wagon broad and heavy and rude<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A group looking out from a single hood;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Striped with the flirt of a heedless lash,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dappled and dimmed with many a splash,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"Gathered" behind like an old calash.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It made you think of a schooner's sail<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mildewed with weather, tattered by gale,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Down "by the run" from mizzen and main,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That canvas mapped with stipple and stain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of Western earth and the prairie rain.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The watch-dog walked in his ribs between<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The hinder wheels, with sleepy mien;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A dangling pail to the axle slung;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Astern of the wain a manger hung,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A schooner's boat by the davits swung.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The white-faced boys sat three in a row,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With eyes of wonder and heads of tow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Father looked sadly over his brood;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mother just lifted a flap of the hood;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All saw the hearse,—and two understood.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They thought of the one-eyed cabin small,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hid like a nest in the grasses tall,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 188]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where plains swept boldly off in the air,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Grooved into heaven everywhere,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So near the stars' invisible stair<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That planets and prairie almost met,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Just cleared its edges as they set!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They thought of the level world's "divide,"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And their hearts flowed down its other side<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the grave of the little girl that died.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They thought of childhood's neighborly hills,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With sunshine aprons and ribbons of rills,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That drew so near when the day went down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Put on a crimson and golden crown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sat together in mantles brown;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The Dawn's red plume in their winter caps,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Night asleep in their drowsy laps,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lightening the load of the shouldered wood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By shedding the shadows as they could,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That gathered round where the homestead stood.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They thought,—that pair in the rugged wain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thinking with bosom rather than brain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They'll never know till their dying day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That what they thought and never could say,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their hearts throbbed out in an Alpine lay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The old Waldensian song again;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thank God for the mountains, and amen!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 189]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The wain gave a lurch, the hearse moved on,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A moment or two, and both were gone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wain bound east, the hearse bound west,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Both going home, both looking for rest.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Lord save all, and his name be blest!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Benjamin F. Taylor.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MANS_MORTALITY" id="MANS_MORTALITY"></a>MAN'S MORTALITY.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like as the damask rose you see,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the blossoms on the tree,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the dainty flower of May,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the morning of the day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the sun, or like the shade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the gourd which Jonas had;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even such is man, whose thread is spun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drawn out and cut, and so is done.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The rose withers, the blossom blasteth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The flower fades, the morning hasteth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sun sets, the shadow flies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The gourd consumes, and man,—he dies!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like to the grass that's newly sprung,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a tale that's new begun,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the bird that's here to-day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the pearléd dew of May,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like an hour, or like a span,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the singing of a swan;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 190]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even such is man, who lives by breath,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is here, now there, in life and death.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The grass withers, the tale is ended,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bird is flown, the dew 's ascended,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The hour is short, the span not long,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The swan near death,—man's life is done!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like to a bubble in the brook,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or in a glass much like a look,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a shuttle in a weaver's hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the writing on the sand,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a thought, or like a dream,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the gliding of a stream;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even such is man, who lives by breath,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is here, now there, in life and death.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bubble 's out, the look 's forgot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The shuttle 's flung, the writing 's blot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The thought is past, the dream is gone,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The water glides,—man's life is done!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like to a blaze of fond delight,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a morning clear and bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a frost, or like a shower,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the pride of Babel's tower,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the hour that guides the time,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like to Beauty in her prime;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even such is man, whose glory lends<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That life a blaze or two, and ends.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The morn 's o'ercast, joy turned to pain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The frost is thawed, dried up the rain,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 191]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The tower falls, the hour is run,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The beauty lost,—man's life is done!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like to an arrow from the bow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like swift course of waterflow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like that time 'twixt flood and ebb,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the spider's tender web,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a race, or like a goal,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the dealing of a dole;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even such is man, whose brittle state<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is always subject unto Fate.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The arrow 's shot, the flood soon spent,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The time 's no time, the web soon rent,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The race soon run, the goal soon won,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dole soon dealt,—man's life is done!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like to the lightning from the sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a post that quick doth hie,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a quaver in a short song,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a journey three days long,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the snow when summer 's come,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the pear, or like the plum;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even such is man, who heaps up sorrow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lives but this day, and dies to-morrow.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lightning 's past, the post must go,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The song is short, the journey's so,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The pear doth rot, the plum doth fall,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The snow dissolves,—and so must all!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Simon Wastel.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 192]</span></p>
<h2><a name="LIFE2" id="LIFE2"></a>LIFE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Like to the falling of a star,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or as the flights of eagles are,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or silver drops of morning dew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or like a wind that chafes the flood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or bubbles which on water stood;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even such is man, whose borrowed light<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is straight called in, and paid to-night.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wind blows out, the bubble dies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The spring entombed in autumn lies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dew dries up, the star is shot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The flight is past,—and man forgot!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry King.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_LAMENT" id="A_LAMENT"></a>A LAMENT.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O World! O Life! O Time!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On whose last steps I climb,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Trembling at that where I had stood before;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When will return the glory of your prime?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">No more,—O nevermore!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Out of the day and night<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A joy has taken flight:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight<br /></span>
<span class="i2">No more,—O nevermore!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 193]</span></p>
<h2><a name="LIFE1" id="LIFE1"></a>LIFE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Life! I know not what thou art,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But know that thou and I must part;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And when, or how, or where we met,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I own to me's a secret yet.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Life! we've been long together,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis hard to part when friends are dear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then steal away, give little warning,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Choose thine own time,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Say not Good Night,—but in some brighter clime<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Bid me Good Morning.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Anna Lætitia Barbauld.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TITHONUS" id="TITHONUS"></a>TITHONUS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The vapors weep their burden to the ground,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And after many a summer dies the swan.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Me only cruel immortality<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Here at the quiet limit of the world,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A white-haired shadow roaming like a dream<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The ever-silent spaces of the east,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 194]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Alas! for this gray shadow, once a man,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So glorious in his beauty and thy choice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who madest him thy chosen, that he seemed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To his great heart none other than a god!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I asked thee, "Give me immortality."<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then didst thou grant mine asking with a smile,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like wealthy men who care not how they give.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But thy strong Hours indignant worked their wills,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And beat me down and marred and wasted me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And though they could not end me, left me maimed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To dwell in presence of immortal youth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Immortal age beside immortal youth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all I was, in ashes. Can thy love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy beauty, make amends, though even now,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Close over us, the silver star, thy guide,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To hear me? Let me go: take back thy gift:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why should a man desire in any way<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To vary from the kindly race of men,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where all should pause, as is most meet for all?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">A soft air fans the cloud apart: there comes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A glimpse of that dark world where I was born.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And bosom beating with a heart renewed.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy cheek begins to redden through the gloom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 195]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And shake the darkness from their loosened manes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And beat the twilight into flakes of fire.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Lo! ever thus thou growest beautiful<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In silence, then before thine answer given<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Departest, and thy tears are on my cheek.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And make me tremble lest a saying learnt<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Ay me! ay me! with what another heart<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In days far-off, and with what other eyes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I used to watch—if I be he that watched—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The lucid outline forming round thee; saw<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dim curls kindle into sunny rings;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my blood<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glow with the glow that slowly crimsoned all<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy presence and thy portals, while I lay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With kisses balmier than half-opening buds<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of April, and could hear the lips that kissed<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Yet hold me not forever in thine East:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How can my nature longer mix with thine?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 196]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Floats up from those dim fields about the homes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of happy men that have the power to die,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And grassy barrows of the happier dead.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Release me, and restore me to the ground:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou seest all things, thou wilt see my grave;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I earth in earth forget these empty courts,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thee returning on thy silver wheels.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_WOMAN_OF_THREE_COWS" id="THE_WOMAN_OF_THREE_COWS"></a>THE WOMAN OF THREE COWS.</h2>
<h4>(From the Irish.)</h4>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O woman of Three Cows, agragh! don't let yourtongue thus rattle!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O don't be saucy, don't be stiff, because you may have cattle!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've seen—and here's my hand to you, I only say what's true—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A many a one with twice your stock not half so proud as you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Good luck to you! don't scorn the poor, and don't be their despiser;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For worldly wealth soon melts away, and cheats the very miser,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 197]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Death soon strips the proudest wreath from haughty human brows;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then don't be stiff, and don't be proud, good Woman of Three Cows!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">See where Mononia's heroes lie, proud Owen More's descendants,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis they that won the glorious name, and had the grand attendants!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If they were forced to bow to Fate, as every mortal bows,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Can you be proud, can you be stiff, my Woman of Three Cows?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The brave sons of the Lord of Clare, they left the land to mourning;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Movrone! for they were banished, with no hope of their returning.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who knows in what abodes of want those youths were driven to house?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet you can give yourself these airs, O Woman of Three Cows!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O think of Donnell of the Ships, the chief whom nothing daunted,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">See how he fell in distant Spain, unchronicled, unchanted!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He sleeps, the great O'Sullivan, where thunder cannot rouse;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then ask yourself, should you be proud, good Woman of Three Cows?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 198]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O'Ruark, Maguire, those souls of fire, whose names are shrined in story,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Think how their high achievements once made Erin's greatest glory!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet now their bones lie mouldering under weeds and cypress boughs,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And so, for all your pride, will yours, O Woman of Three Cows!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The O'Carrolls also, famed when fame was only for the boldest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rest in forgotten sepulchres with Erin's best and oldest;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet who so great as they of yore, in battle or carouse?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Just think of that, and hide your head, good Woman of Three Cows!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Your neighbor's poor, and you it seems are big with vain ideas,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Because, forsooth, you've got three cows,—one more, I see, than she has;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That tongue of yours wags more at times than charity allows,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But if you're strong be merciful, great Woman of Three Cows!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now, there you go! You still, of course, keep up your scornful bearing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I'm too poor to hinder you; but, by the cloak I'm wearing,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 199]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">If I had but four cows myself, even though you were my spouse,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'd thwack you well to cure your pride, my Woman of Three Cows!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>James Clarence Mangan.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="A_FAREWELL2" id="A_FAREWELL2"></a>A FAREWELL.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">My fairest child, I have no song to give you;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you<br /></span>
<span class="i6">For every day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And so make life, death, and that vast forever<br /></span>
<span class="i6">One grand sweet song.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Charles Kingsley.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ODE_ON_A_GRECIAN_URN" id="ODE_ON_A_GRECIAN_URN"></a>ODE ON A GRECIAN URN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thou still unravished bride of quietness!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thou foster-child of silence and slow time!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sylvan historian, who canst thus express<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of deities or mortals, or of both,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 200]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2">In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What men or gods are these? What maidens loath?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fair youth beneath the trees, thou canst not leave<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though winning near the goal; yet do not grieve,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And happy melodist, unweariéd,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forever piping songs forever new;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">More happy love! more happy, happy love!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Forever panting, and forever young;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All breathing human passion far above,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That leaves a heart high sorrowful and cloyed,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A burning forehead and a parching tongue.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Who are these coming to the sacrifice?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To what green altar, O mysterious priest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And all her silken flanks with garlands dressed?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 201]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">What little town by river or sea-shore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ah, little town, thy streets forevermore<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of marble men and maidens overwrought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With forest branches and the trodden weed!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As doth eternity. Cold pastoral!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When old age shall this generation waste,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,"—that is all<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Keats.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="LINES_ON_A_SKELETON" id="LINES_ON_A_SKELETON"></a>LINES ON A SKELETON.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Behold this ruin! 'Twas a skull<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Once of ethereal spirit full<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This narrow cell was Life's retreat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This space was Thought's mysterious seat.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What beauteous visions filled this spot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What dreams of pleasure long forgot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor hope, nor joy, nor love, nor fear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have left one trace of record here.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 202]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beneath this mouldering canopy<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Once shone the bright and busy eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But start not at the dismal void,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If social love that eye employed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If with no lawless fire it gleamed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But through the dews of kindness beamed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That eye shall be forever bright<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When stars and sun are sunk in night.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Within this hollow cavern hung<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If Falsehood's honey it disdained,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And when it could not praise was chained;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If bold in Virtue's cause it spoke,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet gentle concord never broke,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This silent tongue shall plead for thee<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Time unveils Eternity!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Say, did these fingers delve the mine?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or with the envied rubies shine?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To hew the rock or wear a gem<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Can little now avail to them.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But if the page of Truth they sought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or comfort to the mourner brought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These hands a richer meed shall claim<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than all that wait on Wealth and Fame.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Avails it whether bare or shod<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These feet the paths of duty trod?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If from the bowers of Ease they fled,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To seek Affliction's humble shed;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 203]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">If Grandeur's guilty bribe they spurned,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And home to Virtue's cot returned,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These feet with angel wings shall vie,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And tread the palace of the sky!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Anonymous.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="VIRTUE" id="VIRTUE"></a>VIRTUE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bridal of the earth and sky,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">For thou must die.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy root is ever in its grave,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And thou must die.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A box where sweets compacted lie,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My music shows you have your closes,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And all must die.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Only a sweet and virtuous soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like seasoned timber, never gives;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But when the whole world turns to coal,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Then chiefly lives.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>George Herbert.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 204]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_LIE" id="THE_LIE"></a>THE LIE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Go, Soul, the body's guest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon a thankless errand;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fear not to touch the best;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The truth shall be thy warrant:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Go, since I needs must die,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And give them all the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Go tell the Court it glows<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And shines like rotten wood;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Go tell the Church it shows<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What's good, but does no good:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If Court and Church reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Give Court and Church the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Potentates they live<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Acting, but oh! their actions;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not loved, unless they give,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor strong but by their factions:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If Potentates reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Give Potentates the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell men of high condition,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That rule affairs of state,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their purpose is ambition;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their practice only hate:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And if they do reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then give them all the lie.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 205]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell those that brave it most<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They beg for more by spending,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who in their greatest cost<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Seek nothing but commending:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And if they make reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Spare not to give the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Zeal it lacks devotion;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Love it is but lust;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Time it is but motion;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Flesh it is but dust:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And wish them not reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For thou must give the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Age it daily wasteth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Honor how it alters;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Beauty that it blasteth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Favor that she falters:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And as they do reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Give every one the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Wit how much it wrangles<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In fickle points of niceness;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Wisdom she entangles<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Herself in over-wiseness:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And if they do reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then give them both the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Physic of her boldness;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Skill it is pretension;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Charity of coldness;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Law it is contention:<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 206]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i1">And if they yield reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then give them all the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Fortune of her blindness;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Nature of decay;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Friendship of unkindness;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Justice of delay:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And if they do reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Then give them still the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Arts they have no soundness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But vary by esteeming;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell Schools they lack profoundness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And stand too much on seeming:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If Arts and Schools reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Give Arts and Schools the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tell Faith it's fled the city;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell how the country erreth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell, Manhood shakes off pity;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tell, Virtue least preferreth:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And if they do reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Spare not to give the lie.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So when thou hast, as I<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Commanded thee, done blabbing;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Although to give the lie<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Deserves no less than stabbing:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Yet stab at thee who will,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No stab the Soul can kill!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Sir Walter Raleigh.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 207]</span></p>
<h2><a name="TWO_WOMEN" id="TWO_WOMEN"></a>TWO WOMEN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The shadows lay along Broadway,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">'Twas near the twilight-tide,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And slowly there a lady fair<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was walking in her pride.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alone walked she; but, viewlessly,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Walked spirits at her side.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Peace charmed the street beneath her feet,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Honor charmed the air;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all astir looked kind on her,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And called her good as fair,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For all God ever gave to her<br /></span>
<span class="i1">She kept with chary care.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">She kept with care her beauties rare<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From lovers warm and true,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For her heart was cold to all but gold,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the rich came not to woo,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But honored well are charms to sell,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If priests the selling do.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now walking there was one more fair,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A slight girl, lily-pale;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And she had unseen company<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To make the spirit quail,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Twixt Want and Scorn she walked forlorn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And nothing could avail.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No mercy now can clear her brow<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For this world's peace to pray;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 208]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">For, as love's wild prayer dissolved in air,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Her woman's heart gave way!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven<br /></span>
<span class="i1">By man is cursed alway!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Nathaniel Parker Willis.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_PAUPERS_DEATH-BED" id="THE_PAUPERS_DEATH-BED"></a>THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Tread softly,—bow the head,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In reverent silence bow,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No passing-bell doth toll,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet an immortal soul<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is passing now.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Stranger, however great,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With lowly reverence bow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's one in that poor shed—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One by that paltry bed—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Greater than thou.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Beneath that beggar's roof,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Lo! Death doth keep his state.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Enter, no crowds attend;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Enter, no guards defend<br /></span>
<span class="i1"><i>This</i> palace gate.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That pavement, damp and cold,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No smiling courtiers tread;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 209]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">One silent woman stands,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lifting with meagre hands<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A dying head.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No mingling voices sound,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">An infant wail alone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A sob suppressed,—again<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That short deep gasp, and then—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The parting groan.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O change! O wondrous change!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Burst are the prison bars,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This moment <i>there</i> so low,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So agonized, and now<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Beyond the stars.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O change! stupendous change!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">There lies the soulless clod;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sun eternal breaks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The new immortal wakes,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wakes with his God.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Caroline Bowles Southey.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ON_A_PICTURE_OF_PEEL_CASTLE_IN_A_STORM" id="ON_A_PICTURE_OF_PEEL_CASTLE_IN_A_STORM"></a>ON A PICTURE OF PEEL CASTLE IN A STORM.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged pile!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I saw thee every day; and all the while<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thy form was sleeping on a glassy sea.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 210]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So pure the sky, so quiet was the air,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So like, so very like was day to day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whene'er I looked, thy image still was there;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">It trembled, but it never passed away.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">How perfect was the calm! It seemed no sleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No mood which season takes away or brings:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I could have fancied that the mighty deep<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Was even the gentlest of all gentle things.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah! then if mine had been the painter's hand<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To express what then I saw, and add the gleam,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The light that never was on sea or land,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The consecration and the poet's dream,—<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I would have planted thee, thou hoary pile,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Amid a world how different from this!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beside a sea that could not cease to smile,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A picture had it been of lasting ease,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Elysian quiet without toil or strife;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Such, in the fond illusion of my heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Such picture would I at that time have made,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And seen the soul of truth in every part,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So once it would have been,—'tis so no more.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I have submitted to a new control;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 211]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">A power has gone which nothing can restore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A deep distress hath humanized my soul.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Not for a moment could I now behold<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A smiling sea, and be what I have been;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This, which I know, I speak with mind serene.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then, Beaumont, friend, who would have been the friend,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If he had lived, of him whom I deplore,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This work of thine I blame not, but commend,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O, 'tis a passionate work! yet wise and well,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Well chosen is the spirit that is here;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That hulk which labors in the deadly swell,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And this huge castle, standing here sublime,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I love to see the look with which it braves,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Farewell, farewell, the heart that lives alone,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Housed in a dream at distance from the kind!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Such happiness, wherever it be known,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Is to be pitied, for 'tis surely blind.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But welcome, fortitude and patient cheer,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And frequent sights of what is to be borne,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Such sights, or worse, as are before me here:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William Wordsworth.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 212]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_TREASURES_OF_THE_DEEP" id="THE_TREASURES_OF_THE_DEEP"></a>THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pale glistening pearls and rainbow-colored shells,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Bright things which gleam unrecked of and in vain!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">We ask not such from thee.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet more, the depths have more!—what wealth untold,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Far down and shining through their stillness lies!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Won from ten thousand royal argosies!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Earth claims not these again.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet more, the depths have more!—thy waves have rolled<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Above the cities of a world gone by!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sand hath filled up the palaces of old,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry.—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dash o'er them, Ocean, in thy scornful play!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Man yields them to decay.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet more, the billows and the depths have more!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They hear not now the booming waters roar,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The battle-thunders will not break their rest.—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Give back the true and brave!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Give back the lost and lovely!—those for whom<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The place was kept at board and hearth so long,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 213]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And the vain yearning woke midst festal song!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown,—<br /></span>
<span class="i4">But all is not thine own.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To thee the love of woman hath gone down,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Yet must thou hear a voice,—Restore the dead!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee!—<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Restore the dead, thou sea!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Felicia Hemans.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_CLOUD" id="THE_CLOUD"></a>THE CLOUD.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Long had I watched the glory moving on,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O'er the still radiance of the lake below:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">E'en in its very motion there was rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While every breath of eve that chanced to blow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Emblem, methought, of the departed soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And by the breath of mercy made to roll<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Right onward to the golden gates of heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While to the eye of faith it peaceful lies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And tells to man his glorious destinies.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Wilson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 214]</span></p>
<h2><a name="THE_CHAMBERED_NAUTILUS" id="THE_CHAMBERED_NAUTILUS"></a>THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">This is the ship of pearl which, poets feign,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Sails the unshadowed main,—<br /></span>
<span class="i4">The venturous bark that flings<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the sweet summer wind its purple wings<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And coral reefs lie bare,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Wrecked is the ship of pearl!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And every chambered cell<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where its dim-dreaming life was wont to dwell,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Before thee lies revealed,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Year after year beheld the silent toil<br /></span>
<span class="i4">That spread his lustrous coil:<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Still, as the spiral grew,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He left the past year's dwelling for the new,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Stole with soft step its shining archway through,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Built up its idle door,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Child of the wandering sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Cast from her lap, forlorn!<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 215]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">From thy dead lips a clearer note is born<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than ever Triton blew from wreathéd horn!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">While on mine ear it rings,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">As the swift seasons roll!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Leave thy low-vaulted past!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let each new temple, nobler than the last,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Till thou at length art free,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ST_AGNES" id="ST_AGNES"></a>ST. AGNES.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Deep on the convent-roof the snows<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Are sparkling to the moon:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My breath to heaven like vapor goes:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">May my soul follow soon!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The shadows of the convent-towers<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Slant down the snowy sward,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Still creeping with the creeping hours<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That lead me to my Lord:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Make Thou my spirit pure and clear<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As are the frosty skies,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 216]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or this first snowdrop of the year<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That in my bosom lies.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">As these white robes are soiled and dark,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To yonder shining ground;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As this pale taper's earthly spark,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To yonder argent round;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So shows my soul before the Lamb,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My spirit before Thee;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So in mine earthly house I am,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To that I hope to be.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through all yon starlight keen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In raiment white and clean.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He lifts me to the golden doors;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The flashes come and go;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All heaven bursts her starry floors,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And strews her lights below,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And deepens on and up! the gates<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Roll back, and far within<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To make me pure of sin.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sabbaths of Eternity,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One sabbath deep and wide,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A light upon the shining sea,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The Bridegroom with his bride!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 217]</span></p>
<h2><a name="A_CHRISTMAS_HYMN" id="A_CHRISTMAS_HYMN"></a>A CHRISTMAS HYMN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It was the calm and silent night!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Seven hundred years and fifty-three<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had Rome been growing up to might,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And now was queen of land and sea.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No sound was heard of clashing wars,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Held undisturbed their ancient reign,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Centuries ago.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Twas in the calm and silent night!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The senator of haughty Rome,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Impatient, urged his chariot's flight,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From lordly revel rolling home;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Triumphal arches, gleaming, swell<br /></span>
<span class="i1">His breast with thoughts of boundless sway;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What recked the Roman what befell<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A paltry province far away,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Centuries ago?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Within that province far away<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Went plodding home a weary boor;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A streak of light before him lay,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Fallen through a half-shut stable-door<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 218]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across his path. He passed,—for naught<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Told what was going on within;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How keen the stars, his only thought,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The air how calm, and cold, and thin,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Centuries ago!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O, strange indifference! low and high<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Drowsed over common joys and cares;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The earth was still,—but knew not why;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The world was listening, unawares.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How calm a moment may precede<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One that shall thrill the world forever!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To that still moment, none would heed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Man's doom was linked no more to sever,—<br /></span>
<span class="i4">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Centuries ago!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is the calm and solemn night!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">A thousand bells ring out, and throw<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their joyous peals abroad, and smite<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The darkness,—charmed and holy now!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The night that erst no name had worn,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To it a happy name is given;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For in that stable lay, new-born,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Centuries ago!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Alfred Domett.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 219]</span></p>
<h2><a name="MY_SLAIN" id="MY_SLAIN"></a>MY SLAIN.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">This sweet child which hath climbed upon my knee,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This amber-haired, four-summered little maid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With her unconscious beauty troubleth me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With her low prattle maketh me afraid.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ah, darling! when you cling and nestle so<br /></span>
<span class="i1">You hurt me, though you do not see me cry,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor hear the weariness with which I sigh,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For the dear babe I killed so long ago.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I tremble at the touch of your caress;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I am not worthy of your innocent faith;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I who with whetted knives of worldliness<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Did put my own child-heartedness to death,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beside whose grave I pace forevermore,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Like desolation on a shipwrecked shore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There is no little child within me now,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To sing back to the thrushes, to leap up<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When June winds kiss me, when an apple bough<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Laughs into blossoms, or a buttercup<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plays with the sunshine, or a violet<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Dances in the glad dew. Alas! alas!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The meaning of the daisies in the grass<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I have forgotten; and if my cheeks are wet<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It is not with the blitheness of the child,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But with the bitter sorrow of sad years.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O moaning life, with life irreconciled;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O backward-looking thought, O pain, O tears,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 220]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">For us there is not any silver sound<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of rhythmic wonders springing from the ground.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Woe worth the knowledge and the bookish lore<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Which makes men mummies, weighs out every grain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of that which was miraculous before,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And sneers the heart down with the scoffing brain.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Woe worth the peering, analytic days<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That dry the tender juices in the breast,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And put the thunders of the Lord to test,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">So that no marvel must be, and no praise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor any God except Necessity.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What can ye give my poor, starved life in lieu<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of this dead cherub which I slew for ye?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Take back your doubtful wisdom, and renew<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My early foolish freshness of the dunce,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whose simple instincts guessed the heavens at once.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Richard Realf.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_UNDISCOVERED_COUNTRY" id="THE_UNDISCOVERED_COUNTRY"></a>THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Could we but know<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where lie those happier hills and meadows low,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ah, if beyond the spirit's inmost cavil<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Aught of that country could we surely know,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Who would not go?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 221]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Might we but hear<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The hovering angels' high imagined chorus,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Or catch, betimes, with wakeful eyes and clear,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One radiant vista of the realm before us,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With one rapt moment given to see and hear,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Ah, who would fear?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Were we quite sure<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To find the peerless friend who left us lonely,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Or there, by some celestial stream as pure,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To gaze in eyes that here were lovelit only,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">This weary mortal coil, were we quite sure,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Who would endure?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="MY_PSALM" id="MY_PSALM"></a>MY PSALM.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I mourn no more my vanished years;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Beneath a tender rain,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">An April rain of smiles and tears,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My heart is young again.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The west-winds blow, and, singing low,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I hear the glad streams run:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The windows of my soul I throw<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Wide open to the sun.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 222]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">No longer forward nor behind<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I look in hope and fear;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But grateful take the good I find,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The best of now and here.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I plough no more a desert land,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To harvest weed and tare;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The manna dropping from God's hand<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Rebukes my painful care.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I break my pilgrim-staff, I lay<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Aside the toiling oar;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The angel sought so far away<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I welcome at my door.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The airs of spring may never play<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Among the ripening corn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor freshness of the flowers of May<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Blow through the autumn morn;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through fringéd lids to heaven;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the pale aster in the brook<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shall see its image given;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The woods shall wear their robes of praise,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The south-wind softly sigh,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sweet calm days in golden haze<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Melt down the amber sky.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Not less shall manly deed and word<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Rebuke an age of wrong:<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 223]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The graven flowers that wreathe the sword<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Make not the blade less strong.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But smiting hands shall learn to heal,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To build as to destroy;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor less my heart for others feel,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That I the more enjoy.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">All as God wills, who wisely heeds<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To give or to withhold,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And knoweth more of all my needs<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Than all my prayers have told!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Enough that blessings undeserved<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Have marked my erring track;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved<br /></span>
<span class="i1">His chastening turned me back;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That more and more a Providence<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Of love is understood,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Making the springs of time and sense,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Sweet with eternal good;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That death seems but a covered way<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Which opens into light,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wherein no blinded child can stray<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Beyond the Father's sight;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That care and trial seem at last,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through Memory's sunset air,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like mountain ranges overpast,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">In purple distance fair;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 224]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">That all the jarring notes of life<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Seem blending in a psalm,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all the angles of its strife<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Slow rounding into calm.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And so the shadows fell apart,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And so the west-winds play;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all the windows of my heart<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I open to the day.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>John Greenleaf Whittier.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="ENTICED" id="ENTICED"></a>ENTICED.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10"><b>I.</b><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">With what clear guile of gracious love enticed,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I follow forward, as from room to room,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Through doors that open into light from gloom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To find, and lose, and find again the Christ!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He stands and knocks, and bids me ope the door;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Without he stands, and asks to enter in:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Why should he seek a shelter sad with sin?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will he but knock and ask, and nothing more?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He knows what ways I take to shut my heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And if he will he can himself undo<br /></span>
<span class="i1">My foolish fastenings, or by force break through,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor wait till I fulfil my needless part.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 225]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But nay, he will not choose to enter so,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">He will not be my guest without consent,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Nor, though I say "Come in," is he content;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I must arise and ope, or he will go.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He shall not go; I do arise and ope,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Come in, dear Lord, come in and sup with me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O blesséd guest, and let me sup with thee,"—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where is the door? for in this dark I grope,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And cannot find it soon enough; my hand,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Shut hard, holds fast the one sure key I need,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And trembles, shaken with its eager heed;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No other key will answer my demand.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The door between is some command undone;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Obedience is the key that slides the bar,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And lets him in, who stands so near, so far;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The doors are many, but the key is one.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Which door, dear Lord? knock, speak, that I may know;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hark, heart, he answers with his hand and voice,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O, still small sign, I tremble and rejoice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor longer doubt which way my feet must go.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Full lief and soon this door would open too,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If once my key might find the narrow slit<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Which, being so narrow, is so hard to hit,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But lo! one little ray that glimmers through,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 226]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Not spreading light, but lighting to the light,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Now steady, hand, for good speed's sake be slow,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">One straight right aim, a pulse of pressure, so,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How small, how great, the change from dark to bright!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10"><b>II.</b><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now he is here, I seem no longer here!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">This place of light is not my chamber dim,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">It is not he with me, but I with him,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And host, not guest, he breaks the bread of cheer.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I was borne onward at his greeting,—he<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Earthward had come, but heavenward I had gone;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Drawing him hither, I was thither drawn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Scarce welcoming him to hear him welcome me!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I lie upon the bosom of my Lord,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And feel his heart, and time my heart thereby;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The tune so sweet, I have no need to try,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But rest and trust, and beat the perfect chord.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A little while I lie upon his heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Feasting on love, and loving there to feast,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And then, once more, the shadows are increased<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Around me, and I feel my Lord depart.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Again alone, but in a farther place<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I sit with darkness, waiting for a sign;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Again I hear the same sweet plea divine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And suit, outside, of hospitable grace.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 227]</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">This is his guile,—he makes me act the host<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To shelter him, and lo! he shelters me;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Asking for alms, he summons me to be<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A guest at banquets of the Holy Ghost.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So, on and on, through many an opening door<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That gladly opens to the key I bring,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From brightening court to court of Christ, my King,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hope-led, love-fed, I journey evermore.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At last I trust these changing scenes will cease;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">There is a court, I hear, where he abides;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">No door beyond, that further glory hides.—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My host at home, all change is changed to peace.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>William C. Wilkinson.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="WEARINESS" id="WEARINESS"></a>WEARINESS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O little feet! that such long years<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Must wander on through hopes and fears,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Must ache and bleed beneath your load;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I, nearer to the wayside Inn,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where toil shall cease and rest begin,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Am weary, thinking of your road!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O little hands! that weak or strong<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have still to serve or rule so long,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Have still so long to give or ask;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 228]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">I, who so much with book and pen<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have toiled among my fellow-men,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Am weary, thinking of your task.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O little hearts! that throb and beat<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With such impatient feverish heat,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Such limitless and strong desires;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mine that so long has glowed and burned,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With passions into ashes turned,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Now covers and conceals its fires.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O little souls! as pure and white<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And crystalline as rays of light<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Direct from heaven, their source divine;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Refracted through the mist of years,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How red my setting sun appears,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">How lurid looks this soul of mine!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="TOUJOURS_AMOUR" id="TOUJOURS_AMOUR"></a>TOUJOURS AMOUR.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">At what age does love begin?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Your blue eyes have scarcely seen<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Summers three, my fairy queen,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But a miracle of sweets,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Soft approaches, sly retreats,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Show the little archer there,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Hidden in your pretty hair;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 229]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i1">When didst learn a heart to win?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Prithee tell me, Dimple Chin!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Oh!" the rosy lips reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"I can't tell you if I try.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis so long I can't remember:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ask some younger lass than I."<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Do your heart and head keep pace?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When does hoary Love expire,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When do frosts put out the fire?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Can its embers burn below<br /></span>
<span class="i1">All that chill December snow?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Care you still soft hands to press,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Bonny heads to smooth and bless?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When does Love give up the chase?<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face!<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Ah!" the wise old lips reply,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">"Youth may pass and strength may die;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But of Love I can't foretoken:<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Ask some older sage than I!"<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><a name="THE_VOICELESS" id="THE_VOICELESS"></a>THE VOICELESS.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We count the broken lyres that rest<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Where the sweet wailing singers slumber,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But o'er their silent sister's breast<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The wild-flowers who will stoop to number?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 230]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">A few can touch the magic string,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And noisy Fame is proud to win them;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alas for those who never sing,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But die with all their music in them!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Nay, grieve not for the dead alone<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whose song has told their hearts' sad story;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Weep for the voiceless, who have known<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The cross without the crown of glory!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not where Leucadian breezes sweep<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O'er Sappho's memory-haunted billow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But where the glistening night-dews weep<br /></span>
<span class="i1">O'er nameless sorrow's churchyard pillow.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O hearts that break and give no sign<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Save whitening lip and fading tresses,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Till Death pours out his cordial wine,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Slow-dropped from Misery's crushing presses,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If singing breath or echoing chord<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To every hidden pang were given,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What endless melodies were poured,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">As sad as earth, as sweet as heaven!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20"><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 231]</span></p>
<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE.</h2>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Tis pleasant business making books,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">When other people furnish brains;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like finding them in running brooks,—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">The pleasure, minus all the pains!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They tell us Wordsworth once declared<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That he could, if he had the mind,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Write plays like those of Avon's bard;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Whereat the stammering Lamb rejoined,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">"S-s-s-s-s-so you see,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That all he wanted was the mind!"<br /></span>
<span class="i0">O gentle Wordsworth, to deride<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Thy simple speech I'm not inclined;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For these good friends, and thou beside,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">Have freely lent me of their mind.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've Shakespeare's point, and Burns's fire,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Bulwer's own gentility,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Elia's meekness, yet aspire<br /></span>
<span class="i1">To Pope's infallibility.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've made myself at home with Holmes;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">I'm in two Taylors' garments dressed;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 232]</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Campbell has told his rhymes for me,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Shelley shelled out like the rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Hood put on his thinking-cap,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And Goldsmith beaten out his best.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've pilfered Alfred's laureate strains,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And boldly counted Henry's chickens,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And drained Harte's blood from his best veins,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And stol'n from Dickens like the dickens;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of Hogg I have not gone the whole,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But of three Proctors tithes demanded,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And from a Miller taken toll,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And plucked a Reade, to do as Pan did.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've beaten Beattie like a tree<br /></span>
<span class="i1">That sheds its fruit for every knocker,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nor let Sir Walter go Scott free,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And filched a shot from Frederick's Locker.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The ladies, too—God bless them all!—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What pieces of their minds I've taken!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It would Achilles' self appall,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">If hiding here to save his bacon.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By Hawthorne's genius hedged about,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">And deep in Browning's brownest study,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This is the sure retreat, no doubt,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">From critics' favors, fair or muddy.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ah, How it Reads, How well it looks!—<br /></span>
<span class="i1">What one May call a death to pains!—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This pleasant way of making books,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">With clever folks to furnish brains!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">New York</span>, July, 1875.</p>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 233]</span></p>
<h2>INDEX OF FIRST LINES.</h2>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CLOUD">A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun</a></td><td align='right'>213</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AE_FOND_KISS">Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!</a></td><td align='right'>52</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SLANTEN_LIGHT_O_FALL">Ah! Jeane, my maid, I stood to you</a></td><td align='right'>20</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SUMMER_LONGINGS">Ah! my heart is weary waiting</a></td><td align='right'>91</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HAUNTED_HOUSES">All houses wherein men have lived and died</a></td><td align='right'>73</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONNETS4">As an unperfect actor on the stage</a></td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#QUA_CURSUM_VENTUS">As ships becalmed at eve, that lay</a></td><td align='right'>69</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CAVALIERS_SONG">A steed! a steed of matchlesse speed</a></td><td align='right'>132</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#NOT_FAR_TO_GO">As upland fields were sunburnt brown</a></td><td align='right'>43</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_HERMIT">At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still</a></td><td align='right'>175</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EVELYN_HOPE">Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead</a></td><td align='right'>161</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_WOMANS_QUESTION">Before I trust my fate to thee</a></td><td align='right'>46</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LINES_ON_A_SKELETON">Behold this ruin! 'Twas a skull</a></td><td align='right'>201</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CHILDRENS_HOUR">Between the dark and the daylight</a></td><td align='right'>152</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SKYLARK">Bird of the wilderness</a></td><td align='right'>104</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BREAK_BREAK_BREAK">Break, break, break</a></td><td align='right'>53</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AN_OLD_MANS_IDYL">By the waters of Life we sat together</a></td><td align='right'>84</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#DIRGE_FOR_A_SOLDIER">Close his eyes; his work is done!</a></td><td align='right'>134</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WHEN_THE_KYE_COME_HAME">Come, all ye jolly shepherds</a></td><td align='right'>30</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_WELCOME">Come in the evening, or come in the morning</a></td><td align='right'>35</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#COME_REST_IN_THIS_BOSOM">Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer</a></td><td align='right'>46</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_UNDISCOVERED_COUNTRY">Could we but know</a></td><td align='right'>220</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOO_LATE1">Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas</a></td><td align='right'>167<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 234]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ST_AGNES">Deep on the convent-roof the snows</a></td><td align='right'>215</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#GOING_HOME">Drawn by horses with decorous feet</a></td><td align='right'>185</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LONG-AGO">Eyes which can but ill define</a></td><td align='left'>88</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM">Farewell! since nevermore for thee</a></td><td align='right'>173</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_FAREWELL1">Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea</a></td><td align='right'>112</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#YARROW_UNVISITED">From Stirling castle we had seen</a></td><td align='right'>93</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SONG_OF_THE_CAMP">"Give us a song!" the soldiers cried</a></td><td align='right'>130</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_COURTIN">God makes sech nights, all white an' still</a></td><td align='right'>26</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LIE">Go, Soul, the body's guest</a></td><td align='right'>204</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#JOSEPH_RODMAN_DRAKE">Green be the turf above thee</a></td><td align='right'>169</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_THE_SKYLARK">Hail to thee, blithe spirit!</a></td><td align='right'>106</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_EAGLE">He clasps the crag with hookéd hands</a></td><td align='right'>105</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CORONACH">He is gone on the mountain</a></td><td align='right'>133</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOM_BOWLING">Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling</a></td><td align='right'>168</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_MANGO_TREE">He wiled me through the furzy croft</a></td><td align='right'>59</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_AGE_OF_WISDOM">Ho! pretty page with the dimpled chin</a></td><td align='right'>115</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOWS_MY_BOY">Ho, sailor of the sea!</a></td><td align='right'>150</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE1">How sleep the brave who sink to rest</a></td><td align='right'>139</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LINES_TO_AN_INDIAN_AIR">I arise from dreams of thee</a></td><td align='right'>42</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_CHILD">I cannot make him dead!</a></td><td align='right'>154</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_HEALTH">I fill this cup to one made up</a></td><td align='right'>21</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_OLD_FAMILIAR_FACES">I have had playmates, I have had companions</a></td><td align='right'>66</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HYMN_TO_THE_NIGHT">I heard the trailing garments of the night</a></td><td align='right'>103</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_PSALM">I mourn no more my vanished years</a></td><td align='right'>221</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LAMENT_OF_THE_IRISH_EMIGRANT">I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary</a></td><td align='right'>158</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAND_O_THE_LEAL">I'm wearin' awa', John</a></td><td align='right'>156</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#KUBLA_KHAN">In Xanadu did Kubla Khan</a></td><td align='right'>16</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#I_REMEMBER_I_REMEMBER">I remember, I remember</a></td><td align='right'>72</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TIMES_CHANGES">I saw her once,—so freshly fair</a></td><td align='right'>67</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAST_LEAF">I saw him once before</a></td><td align='right'>117</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_CHRISTMAS_HYMN">It was the calm and silent night</a></td><td align='right'>217</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BROOKSIDE">I wandered by the brookside</a></td><td align='right'>36</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_A_PICTURE_OF_PEEL_CASTLE_IN_A_STORM">I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged pile!</a></td><td align='right'>209<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 235]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LOST_LEADER">Just for a handful of silver he left us</a></td><td align='right'>119</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LIFE1">Life! I know not what thou art</a></td><td align='right'>193</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MANS_MORTALITY">Like as the damask rose you see</a></td><td align='right'>189</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LIFE2">Like to the falling of a star</a></td><td align='right'>192</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#PHILIP_MY_KING">Look at me with thy large brown eyes</a></td><td align='right'>149</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LOVE_NOT">Love not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay!</a></td><td align='right'>51</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MAID_OF_ATHENS_ERE_WE_PART">Maid of Athens, ere we part</a></td><td align='right'>45</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SPINNING-WHEEL_SONG">Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning</a></td><td align='right'>32</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_THOMAS_MOORE">My boat is on the shore</a></td><td align='right'>110</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_FAREWELL2">My fairest child, I have no song to give you</a></td><td align='right'>199</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONNETS3">My glass shall not persuade me I am old</a></td><td align='right'>49</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_HEID_IS_LIKE_TO_REND_WILLIE">My heid is like to rend, Willie</a></td><td align='right'>56</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#STANZAS">My life is like the summer rose</a></td><td align='right'>113</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LITTLE_BLACK_BOY">My mother bore me in the southern wild</a></td><td align='right'>181</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#NIGHT_AND_DEATH">Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew</a></td><td align='right'>104</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_RIVER_PATH">No bird-song floated down the hill</a></td><td align='right'>82</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_IVY_GREEN">O, a dainty plant is the ivy green</a></td><td align='right'>90</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OFT_IN_THE_STILLY_NIGHT">Oft in the stilly night</a></td><td align='right'>64</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WEARINESS">O little feet! that such long years</a></td><td align='right'>227</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SANDS_OF_DEE">O Mary, go and call the cattle home</a></td><td align='right'>102</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MINSTRELS_SONG">O, sing unto my roundelay!</a></td><td align='right'>171</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM">Our bugles sang truce; for the night-cloud had lowered</a></td><td align='right'>127</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#DRIVING_HOME_THE_COWS">Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass</a></td><td align='right'>140</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OVER_THE_RIVER">Over the river they beckon to me</a></td><td align='right'>78</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#O_WHY_SHOULD_THE_SPIRIT_OF_MORTAL_BE">O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?</a></td><td align='right'>177</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_WOMAN_OF_THREE_COWS">O Woman of Three Cows, agragh! don't let your tongue thus rattle!</a></td><td align='right'>196</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_LAMENT">O World! O Life! O Time!</a></td><td align='right'>192</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOUJOURS_AMOUR">Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin</a></td><td align='right'>228</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SONG_FOR_SEPTEMBER">September strews the woodland o'er</a></td><td align='right'>63</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONNETS5">Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?</a></td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_DIED_IN_BEAUTY">She died in beauty,—like a rose</a></td><td align='right'>164</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_IS_FAR_FROM_THE_LAND">She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps</a></td><td align='right'>170<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 236]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_WALKS_IN_BEAUTY">She walks in beauty like the night</a></td><td align='right'>84</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_WAS_A_PHANTOM_OF_DELIGHT">She was a phantom of delight</a></td><td align='right'>18</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SHE_WAS_NOT_FAIR_NOR_FULL_OF_GRACE">She was not fair, nor full of grace</a></td><td align='right'>165</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_AN_INDIAN_GOLD_COIN">Slave of the dark and dirty mine</a></td><td align='right'>183</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE4">Sleep sweetly in your humble graves</a></td><td align='right'>136</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ICHABOD">So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn</a></td><td align='right'>123</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SERENADE">Stars of the summer night!</a></td><td align='right'>41</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#VIRTUE">Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright</a></td><td align='right'>203</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DAYS_THAT_ARE_NO_MORE">Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean</a></td><td align='right'>65</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_LUCASTA">Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde</a></td><td align='right'>125</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_A_GIRDLE">That which her slender waist confined</a></td><td align='right'>23</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#DEATHS_FINAL_CONQUEST">The glories of our birth and state</a></td><td align='right'>182</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_NICE_CORRESPONDENT">The glow and the glory are plighted</a></td><td align='right'>24</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONG">The heath this night must be my bed</a></td><td align='right'>124</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BRAVE_AT_HOME">The maid who binds her warrior's sash</a></td><td align='right'>142</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_THE_FLOWERS">The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year</a></td><td align='right'>100</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TOO_LATE2">There sat an old man on a rock</a></td><td align='right'>120</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LITTLE_YEARS">These years! these years! these naughty years!</a></td><td align='right'>114</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TWO_WOMEN">The shadows lay along Broadway</a></td><td align='right'>207</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BUGLE-SONG">The splendor falls on castle walls</a></td><td align='right'>40</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BETROTHED_ANEW">The sunlight fills the trembling air</a></td><td align='right'>86</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HEROES">The winds that once the Argo bore</a></td><td align='right'>144</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TITHONUS">The woods decay, the woods decay and fall</a></td><td align='right'>193</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THEY_ARE_ALL_GONE">They are all gone into the world of light</a></td><td align='right'>80</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_GRAVES_OF_A_HOUSEHOLD">They grew in beauty, side by side</a></td><td align='right'>174</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE2">They sleep so calm and stately</a></td><td align='right'>137</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_ARSENAL_AT_SPRINGFIELD">This is the arsenal. From floor to ceiling</a></td><td align='right'>146</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_CHAMBERED_NAUTILUS">This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign</a></td><td align='right'>214</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MY_SLAIN">This sweet child which hath climbed upon my knee</a></td><td align='right'>219</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TO_MARY_IN_HEAVEN">Thou lingering star, with lessening ray</a></td><td align='right'>61</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE_ON_A_GRECIAN_URN">Thou still unravished bride of quietness!</a></td><td align='right'>199</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_THREE_FISHERS">Three fishers went sailing out into the west</a></td><td align='right'>143</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_TIGER">Tiger! Tiger! burning bright</a></td><td align='right'>96<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 237]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SNOW-STORM">'Tis a fearful night in the winter time</a></td><td align='right'>97</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EPILOGUE">'Tis pleasant business making books</a></td><td align='right'>231</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAST_ROSE_OF_SUMMER">'Tis the last rose of summer</a></td><td align='right'>111</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THANATOPSIS">To him who in the love of nature holds</a></td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_PETITION_TO_TIME">Touch us gently, Time!</a></td><td align='right'>122</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_PAUPERS_DEATH-BED">Tread softly,—bow the head</a></td><td align='right'>208</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_BRIDAL_DIRGE">Weave no more the marriage-chain!</a></td><td align='right'>163</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_VOICELESS">We count the broken lyres that rest</a></td><td align='right'>229</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_VOYAGE">We left behind the painted buoy</a></td><td align='right'>13</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DEATH-BED">We watched her breathing through the night</a></td><td align='right'>160</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MONTEREY">We were not many,—we who stood</a></td><td align='right'>128</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ODE3">What constitutes a state?</a></td><td align='right'>148</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_TREASURES_OF_THE_DEEP">What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells?</a></td><td align='right'>212</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_MUSICAL_INSTRUMENT">What was he doing, the great god Pan?</a></td><td align='right'>11</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONNETS">When forty winters shall besiege thy brow</a></td><td align='right'>48</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ON_HIS_BLINDNESS">When I consider how my light is spent</a></td><td align='right'>143</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SONNETS2">When I do count the clock that tells the time</a></td><td align='right'>49</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#PROGRESS">When Liberty lives loud on every lip</a></td><td align='right'>179</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ASTARTE">When the latest strife is lost, and all is done with</a></td><td align='right'>54</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_KNIGHTS_TOMB">Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?</a></td><td align='right'>133</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHANGES">Whom first we love, you know, we seldom wed</a></td><td align='right'>71</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MARIANA">With blackest moss the flower-pots</a></td><td align='right'>37</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ENTICED">With what clear guile of gracious love enticed</a></td><td align='right'>224</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HIGHLAND_MARY">Ye banks, and braes, and streams around</a></td><td align='right'>166</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAND_OF_LANDS">You ask me, why, though ill at ease</a></td><td align='right'>126</td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 238]</span></p>
<h5>The Riverside Press<br />
<i>Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.</i><br />
<i>Cambridge, Mass, U.S.A.</i></h5>
<hr style="width: 95%;" />
<h2>Little Classics</h2>
<p>Edited by <span class="smcap">Rossiter Johnson</span>. Each in one volume,
18mo, $1.00. The set, in box, $18.00.</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p>
1. EXILE.<br />
2. INTELLECT.<br />
3. TRAGEDY.<br />
4. LIFE.<br />
5. LAUGHTER.<br />
6. LOVE.<br />
7. ROMANCE.<br />
8. MYSTERY.<br />
9. COMEDY.<br />
10. CHILDHOOD.<br />
11. HEROISM.<br />
12. FORTUNE.<br />
13. NARRATIVE POEMS.<br />
14 LYRICAL POEMS.<br />
15. MINOR POEMS.<br />
16. NATURE.<br />
17. HUMANITY.<br />
18. AUTHORS.<br />
</p></div>
<p><i>Sixteenmo Edition.</i> 18 vols., 16mo, gilt top, $18.00.
(Sold only in sets.)</p>
<p class="center">A list of the entire contents of the volumes of this<br />
Series will be sent free on application.<br />
<br />
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.<br />
Boston and New York.</p>
<pre>
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