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By day its voice is low and light;
But in the silent dead of night,
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall,
It echoes along the vacant hall,
Along the ceiling, along the floor,
And seems to say, at each chamber door,

“For ever-never!

Never—for ever !” Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Through days of death and days of birth, Through every swift vicissitude Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, And as if, like God, it all things saw, It calmly repeats those words of awe,

6 For ever-never!

Never—for ever!”
In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted Hospitality;
His great fires up the chimney roared ;
The stranger feasted at his board;
But, like the skeleton at the feast,
That warning timepiece never ceased, -

“ For ever-never !

Never—for ever!” There groups of merry children played ; There youths and maidens dreaming strayed; O precious hours! O golden prime, And affluence of love and time!

Even as a miser counts his gold,
Those hours the ancient timepiece told, -

“For ever-never!

Never-for ever!” From that chamber, clothed in white, The bride came forth on her wedding night; There, in that silent room below, The dead lay in his shroud of snow; And in the hush that followed the prayer Was heard the old clock on the stair,

“For ever--never!

Never-for ever!”
All are scattered now and fled; .
Some are married, some are dead;
And when I ask, with throbs of pain, .
“ Ah! when shall they all meet again ?”
As in the days long since gone by,
The ancient timepiece makes reply,-

6 For ever-never !

Never-for ever!”
Never here, for ever there,
Where all parting, pain, and care,
And death, and time shall disappear,-
For ever there, but never here !
The horologe of Eternity
Sayeth this incessantly,

“ For ever-never!

Never-for ever!”

The Rainy Hay,

THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ,
It rains, and the wind is never weary ;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary ;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall, .

Some days must be dark and dreary.

The Lighthouse

RHE rocky ledge runs far into the sea,

And on its outer point, some miles away, The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry –

A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day. Even at this distance I can see the tides,

Upheaving, break unheard along its base ;A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides

In the white lip and tremor of the face. And as the evening darkens, lo ! how bright,

Through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,

With strange, unearthly splendour in its glare! Not one alone ;—from each projecting cape

And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,

Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. Like the great giant Christopher it stands

Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, Wading far out among the rocks and sands,

· The night-o'ertaken mariner to save. And the great ships sail outward and return,

Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells, And ever joyful, as they see it burn,

They wave their silent welcomes and farewells. They come forth from the darkness, and their sails

Gleam for a moment only in the blaze ; And eager faces, as the light unveils,

Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. The mariner remembers when a child,

On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; And, when returning from adventures wild,

He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same

Year after year, through all the silent night Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame,

Shines on that inextinguishable light ! It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp

The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,

And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece. The startled waves leap over it; the storm

Smites it with all the scourges of the rain ; And steadily against its solid form

Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din

Of wings and winds and solitary cries, Blinded and maddened by the light within,

Dashes himself against the glare, and dies. A new Prometheus, * chained upon the rock,

Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove, It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,

But hails the mariner with words of love. “Sail on!” it says, " sail on, ye stately ships ;

And with your floating bridge the ocean span ; Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,

Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!”

* PROMETHEUS. Fabled History says that Prometheus was chained to a rock on Mount Caucasus, by order of Jupiter, because he had stolen fire from the Sun wherewith to animate a beautiful figure of clay which he had made. An eagle or vulture was sent to prey on his liver. He was eventually delivered by Hercules, who killed the eagle.

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