The angel sought so far away I welcome at my door. The airs of spring may never play Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look Through fringèd lids to heaven, And the pale aster in the brook Shall see its image given ; That all the jarring notes of life And so the shadows fall apart, And so the west winds play; And all the windows of my heart I open to the day. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. SONNET. The woods shall wear their robes of praise, SAD is our youth, for it is ever going, The south wind softly sigh, And sweet, calm days, in golden haze Melt down the amber sky. Not less shall manly deed and word The graven flowers that wreathe the sword Make not the blade less strong. But smiting hands shall learn to heal,- Nor less my heart for others feel All as God wills, who wisely heeds Enough that blessings undeserved Have mark'd my erring track;— That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, His chastening turn'd me back ; That more and more a Providence Sweet with eternal good; That death seems but a cover'd way Which opens into light, Wherein no blinded child can stray Beyond the Father's sight; That care and trial seem at last, Through Memory's sunset air, Like mountain-ranges overpast, In purple distance fair;— Crumbling away beneath our very feet; Sad is our life, for onward it is flowing In current unperceived, because so fleet; Sad are our hopes, for they were sweet in sowing But tares, self-sown, have overtopp'd the wheat; Sad are our joys, for they were sweet in blowing And still, oh still, their dying breath is sweet; And sweet is youth, although it hath bereft us Of that which made our childhood sweeter still; And sweet is middle life, for it hath left us Not for their sake, but His who grants them or denies them! AUBREY DE VERE. THE STREAM OF LIFE. In garden-plots the children play, And thou descendest still. O life descending into death, "With you! and quit my Susan's side! Of cruelty upon my name, Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and To give you time for preparation, main, And fit you for your future station, In hopes you'll have no more to say, Well pleased the world will leave." What next the hero of our tale befell, The willing Muse shall tell. Nor thought of Death as near; He pass'd his hours in peace. Brought on his eightieth year. Once more before him stood. Half kill'd with anger and surprise, "So soon return'd!" old Dodson cries. "So soon, d'ye call it?" Death replies : "Surely, my friend, you're but in jest! Since I was here before 'Tis six-and-thirty years at least, And you are now fourscore." "So much the worse," the clown rejoin'd; "To spare the aged would be kind: Besides, you promised me Three Warnings, Which I have look'd for nights and morn ings; But for that loss of time and ease, I can recover damages." "I know," cries Death, "that at the best I seldom am a welcome guest; "And "However, you still keep your eyes; And sure, to see one's loves and friends, For legs and arms would make amends." "Perhaps," says Dodson, "so it might, But latterly I've lost my sight." "This is a shocking tale, 'tis true, But still there's comfort left for you: Each strives your sadness to amuse; I warrant you hear all the news." "There's none," cries he; "and if there were, I'm grown so deaf I could not hear." So, come along, no more we'll part;" HESTER THRALE PIOZZI. NOW AND AFTERWARDS. "Two hands upon the breast, and labor is past." RUSSIAN PROVERB. "Two hands upon the breast, And labor's done; Two pale feet cross'd in rest,— Two eyes with coin-weights shut, Two lips where grief is mute, Anger at peace :" So pray we oftentimes, mourning our lot; God in His kindness answereth not. "Two hands to work addrest Aye for His praise; Walking His ways; Not wrath, nor fears:" So pray we afterwards, low on our knees; Pardon those erring prayers! Father, hear these! DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK. TOMMY'S DEAD. You may give over plough, boys, You may take the gear to the stead, All the sweat o' your brow, boys, Will never get beer and bread. Send the colt to fair, boys, He's going blind, as I said, To see him in the shed; Neither white nor red; And the beasts must be fed; |