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Bedside Poetry 
 
 A PARENTS' ASSISTANT IN 
 MORAL DISCIPLINE 
 
 y 
 
 COMPILED BY WENDELL P. GARRISON 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO. 
 
 1887 
 
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 Copyright, 1886, by 
 Wendell Phillips GarrisoNc 
 
*\ 
 
 TO 
 
 LUCY McKIM GARRISON 
 
 AND 
 
 JOHN RICHARD DENNETT: 
 TWO SPIBITS. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 DotvJiat we ivill and can, the moral discipline of 
 our children of tenest falls short alike of our prayers 
 and of our endeavor. All those fences with which 
 nature and our institutions have girt them round — 
 parents and schoolmasters, 
 
 u Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, 
 Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes," — 
 
 afford no guaranty of protection from evil thoughts 
 or evil ways. Nor will it ever be otherwise. To 
 ground the youth in principle, demands not only all 
 the inherited virtue of the remotest generations of 
 man, but all the appliances which the highest en- 
 lightenment of the present day can devise. 
 
 The dislike of children for sermonizing ; the im- 
 perfect opportunities for it at home; the want of 
 tact or of the power of expression on the part of 
 parents themselves — these and many other causes 
 combine to make its shift the burden on the secular 
 or the Sabbath school, or to encourage a blind de- 
 pendence on the force of our own example. The aid 
 vii 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 of fiction, it is true, has long been eagerly sought by 
 Anglo-Saxon parents; and what 3Iiss Edgeworth, 
 Jliss Martineau, and a long line of successors in the 
 writing of moral tales have done, cannot be overes- 
 timated. Poetry, in turn, — witness Ann and Jane 
 Taylor and still another host of authors and com- 
 pilers, — has been impressed into the service ; but 
 just here, it has seemed to me, was room for the collec- 
 tion whose specific uses will now be explained. 
 
 Those mothers, and, let me add, those fathers, who 
 have never resigned to servants the privilege of put- 
 ting their children to bed, know the peculiar value of 
 that hour for confirming filial and parental affection, 
 and for conveying reproof to ears never so attentive 
 or resistless. Sweeter or more impressive relations 
 than those thus established cannot be hoped for in this 
 life. Doubtless in hundreds of happy homes it has 
 occurred to the parent to make a practice of closing 
 the infant clay at the bedside with some well-chosen 
 reading, as a prelude to peaceful slumbers. To such, 
 and to all who would do likewise, I offer a volume 
 which will answer this general object, or which can 
 be made directly applicable to the day's conduct. A 
 glance at what I have called the Key to the Morali- 
 ties will make this latter function clear. 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 Certainly the range of the pieces here grouped 
 together will not suffice for all the defects of disposi- 
 tion or behavior which will arise for correction. No 
 collection could ; and this one has been farther re- 
 stricted by a desire to admit only poetry of a rather 
 high order, the remembrance of which tvill be a joy 
 forever, and a potent factor in the formation not 
 merely of character but of literary taste. There is 
 no particular in which our schools and our text- 
 books so fall below the mark as in inculcating, early 
 and constantly, that preference for the noble in liter- 
 ature which is one of the surest safeguards against 
 vulgar temptations and associations. The theme 
 invites a long essay — but not in this place. 
 
 Patient repetition is the secret of all successful 
 training ; and the Frenchman who advised persist- 
 ence in calumny on the ground that something would 
 stick to the object of it, has pointed the way to 
 the employment of similar tactics in a better cause. 
 The parent will soon enough find out that my selec- 
 tions are here and there above the level of the child! s 
 comprehension, even if he be well along in his teens. 
 But, frequently conned or recited, even these portions 
 " will stick " till comprehension overtakes the idea. 
 Meanwhile an opportunity is afforded, by explaining 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 such obscurities as they occur, to enlarge the child's 
 notions along with his vocabulary. Finally, a very 
 rational penalty for petty wrong-doing lies in the 
 compulsory memorizing of good models, whether in 
 prose or verse ; and this discipline can be enforced 
 beyond the bedside hour. 
 
 The poems here brought together are not always 
 copied entire. The excuse for this is that natural 
 selection by which our u familiar quotations" are 
 derived without prejudice to what we leave unquoted, 
 or by which the minister deals out a hymn to choir 
 and congregation, omitting this, that and the other 
 stanza, as suits his purpose. That the living poets 
 themselves will, under the circumstances, object to 
 this sort of condensation and abstraction, I have 
 little fear. 
 
 My thanks are due to Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin 
 
 & Co., Boston, for their courteous permission to use 
 
 the copyright poems of Emerson, Holmes, Longfellow, 
 
 Lowell, and Wliittier which grace this collection; 
 
 and to 2Irs. Kemble for her obliging revision of her 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 W. P. G. 
 Orange, N. J., 1886. 
 
KEY TO THE MORALITIES 
 
 IMAGED IN THE FOLLOWING SELECTIONS, ACCORDING TO THEIR 
 RESPECTIVE NUMBERS. 
 
 Accident of birth, 32, 36, 37, 
 38, 39. 
 
 Adam a democratic ancestor, 
 38. 
 
 Advice disregarded, 3. 
 
 All needed by each one, 31. 
 
 Ambition cherished, 33. 
 
 Ambition shunned, 70. 
 
 Animal affection, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 
 
 Army that saves, and that de- 
 stroys, 20. 
 
 Art is long, 46. 
 
 Beauty coincident with duty, 
 
 51. 
 Beauty everywhere in nature, 
 
 74. 
 Beauty in small as well as great, 
 
 44. 
 Beauty in utility, 34. 
 Beauty its own excuse for being, 
 
 71. 
 Benefits forgot, 26. 
 Benefits remembered, 6, 14. 
 Be thyself, 63. 
 
 Birth needs no excuses, 39, 53. 
 Blood nobly shed, 77. 
 Books too much pored over, 69. 
 Borrow no trouble, 56. 
 
 Charity, 22, 23, 24, 25, 34. 
 
 Charity soils not white hands, 
 
 40. 
 Child the father of the man, 73. 
 
 Choose well, 35. 
 Circumstances, 32, 36, 37. 
 Common sense to submit to the 
 
 inevitable, 67. 
 Compassion, 22, 23, 24, 25, 34. 
 Compromise with sin, 78. 
 Conscience of the better thing, 
 
 65. 
 Conscience the strong retreat, 
 
 58. 
 Constancy, 61. 
 Contentment, 70. 
 Countrymen are all mankind, 
 
 39, 81. 
 Courage to bear sorrow, 40. 
 Cowards fear ills to come, 56. 
 Cowards tell lies, 62. 
 
 Day of small things, 28, 29, 30, 
 
 78. 
 Dead yet not absent, 50. 
 Death a good morning, 48. 
 Death better than slavery, 77, 
 
 83. 
 Deathless name, 33. 
 Death the common portion, 49. 
 Death the good angel, 43. 
 Defects happily made known by 
 
 an enemy, 64. 
 Descent from Adam, 38. 
 Destroy not, but rather save, 20. 
 Do noble things, not dream 
 
 them, 41. 
 Duty coincident with beauty, 51. 
 
Xll 
 
 KEY TO THE MORALITIES. 
 
 Duty leads to glory, 52. 
 Duty new with new occasion, 78. 
 Duty whispers Ihou must, 29, 
 82. 
 
 Each and all, 31. 
 
 Earthly greatness mocked "by 
 
 Time, 17. 
 Enemies may instruct us, 64. 
 
 Family circle not broken by 
 
 death, 50. 
 Fatherland, 79, 80, 81. 
 Fear no evil, 56. 
 Fidelity. 5, 7, 75. 
 Filial affection, 11. 
 Fitness of things, 1. 
 Forbearance, 71. 
 Forgiveness of harsh reproof, 
 
 64. 
 Forgiveness of injury, 13, 15. 
 Fortune disregarded, 50. 
 Freedom is to remember those 
 
 in bonds, 55. 
 Freedom's fight, 77, 82, 83. 
 Freedom to worship God, 79. 
 Friend remembered not, 26. 
 Friendship broken and never 
 
 repaired, 27. 
 Friendship in adversity, 5. 
 Friends of the good great man, 
 
 43. 
 Future not to be trusted, 46. 
 Future to be met with courage, 
 
 35. 
 
 Glory of the cause, 77. 
 Glory's way the path of duty, 
 
 52. 
 God loves him who loves his 
 
 fellow-man, 16. 
 God near to man, 82. 
 Good for evil, 13, 15. 
 Goodness in daylight and in 
 
 dark, 61. 
 Goodness its own reward, 43. 
 Good rather than clever, 11. 
 
 Goose killed that laid the golden 
 
 egg, 9. 
 Gratitude superior to offence, 
 
 14. 
 Gratitude superior to the threat 
 
 of death, 12. 
 Grave of the good knight, 42. 
 Greed overreaching itself, 9. 
 
 Half a loaf better than no bread, 
 9. 
 
 Handsome is as handsome does, 
 34. 
 
 Heal rather than slay, 20. 
 
 Heart that watches and re- 
 ceives, 69. 
 
 Help succors the faithful, 75. 
 
 Heritage of rich and poor, 40. 
 
 Higher law, 12. 
 
 Home influence, 36. 
 
 Honest man depicted, 61. 
 
 Honest man the king of men, 39. 
 
 Hospitality, 13. 
 
 Humble instruments of good, 
 29, 78. 
 
 Humility, 2. 
 
 Ignorance consigns to obscurity, 
 
 37. 
 Imprudence, 3. 
 
 Independence upon fortune, 59. 
 Independent mind, 39. 
 Independent will, 29. 
 Ingratitude, 26. 
 Integrity put to the test, 10. 
 Irreverence for the dreams of 
 
 youth, 60. 
 
 Joy and woe commingled in life, 
 32. 
 
 Kind hearts are more than coro- 
 nets, 38. 
 Kindness reciprocated, 6. 
 
 Labor and wait, 46. 
 Labor brings rest, 34. 
 
KEY TO THE MORALITIES. 
 
 Xlll 
 
 Lie not, 61. 
 
 Life beautiful in being dutiful, 
 
 51. 
 Life is earnest, 46. 
 Life may be beautiful without 
 
 length of days, 44. 
 Life may be given in many 
 
 ways, 53. 
 Life prolonged may be lasting, 
 
 not living, 45. 
 Life's good-bye, 48. 
 Light not from the east only, 
 
 76. 
 Lord of one's self if not of lands, 
 
 40, 58, 59. 
 Love of man, love of God, 16. 
 Loyalty to Truth, 53. 
 
 Magnanimity, 11, 12, 13, 15. 
 
 Manhood bold in singleness, 39. 
 
 Manhood's solid earth, 53. 
 
 Mankind one in spirit, 78. 
 
 Man master of his fate, 40, 58, 
 59. 
 
 Man 's a man for all that, 39. 
 
 Man was made for joy and woe, 
 33. 
 
 Marry in haste, repent at lei- 
 sure, 3. 
 
 Mercy, 33, 35. 
 
 Mighty fallen, 17. 
 
 Mother longed for, 11. 
 
 Mother's wish realized, 33. 
 
 Multitude persuading to evil, 
 10. 
 
 Music to the listening soul, 65. 
 
 Nameless, to leave a deathless 
 name, 33. 
 
 Native land forsaken for liber- 
 ty's sake, 79, 80. 
 
 Natural piety, 69, 73. 
 
 Nature a better teacher than 
 books, 69. 
 
 Necessity laid upon all, 67. 
 
 New Year's Eve, 68. 
 
 Nobility in being good, 38. 
 
 b 
 
 Nobleness enkindles nobleness, 
 
 13. 
 Noble things to be done, and 
 
 not dreamt, 41. 
 Nothing is fair or good alone, 
 
 31. 
 
 One good turn deserves another, 
 
 6. 
 Open as the day, 63. 
 Opportunity denied to talent, 
 
 37. 
 Outcast compassionated, 34. 
 
 Parental compassion, 31. 
 
 Passionate words in vain repent- 
 ed of , 37. 
 
 Past outgrown, 66. 
 
 Past to bury its dead, 46. 
 
 Patience, A, 46. 
 
 Patience learned of being poor, 
 40. 
 
 Patriotism of the soul, 81. 
 
 Peace among the nations, 19, 
 68. 
 
 Perfection in little, 44. 
 
 Perseverance in the good fight, 
 54, 76. 
 
 Physician nobler than the war- 
 rior, 30. 
 
 Pity, 33, 33, 34, 35. 
 
 Poor but honest, 39. 
 
 Poor man's inheritance, 40. 
 
 Posterity remembered in self- 
 sacrifice, 46, 77, 83. 
 
 Posterity warned by the exam- 
 ple of its ancestors, 80. 
 
 Pride of descent, 38. 
 
 Pride that scowls on wretched- 
 ness, 33. 
 
 Public service, 53. 
 
 Quarrel between friends, 37. 
 
 Rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
 
 39. 
 .Reciprocal kindness, 6. 
 
XIV 
 
 KEY TO THE MORALITIES. 
 
 Religious freedom, 79. 
 Reproof to be welcomed, 64. 
 Republic triumphaut, 84. 
 Rest comes forth from labor, 
 
 34. 
 Rich man's inheritance, 40. 
 Right onward, 75, 78, 0. 
 Right with the minority, 55. 
 
 Save that which was lost, 20. 
 Scorn not the humble, 30. 
 Self-confidence, 29. 
 Self-conquest, 13. 
 Self-importance humbled, 2. 
 Selfishness replaced by public 
 
 spirit, 52. 
 Self-poise, 53. 
 Self-restraint, 72. 
 Sensuous temptation overcome, 
 
 54. 
 Sin for the many, sin for each, 
 
 10. 
 Slander destroying friendship, 
 
 27. 
 Slaves who fear to speak, 55. 
 Small beginnings, 28, 29. 
 Spiritual growth, 66. 
 Stepping stones of our dead 
 
 selves to higher things, 60, 66, 
 Still, small voice, 65. 
 Strength fed from within, 53. 
 Studious overmuch. 69. 
 Submission to necessity, 67. 
 Sympathy, 21, 23, 25, 34. 
 
 Talents differ, 1. 
 
 Talents hidden by ignorance and 
 poverty, 37. 
 
 Time is fleeting, 46. 
 
 Time makes ancient good un- 
 couth, 78. 
 
 Toil makes rest fragrant. 40. 
 
 Trials faced and not avoided. 61. 
 
 Truth forever on the scaffold,? 8. 
 
 Truth his utmost skill, 58. 
 
 Truth is so, 47. 
 
 Truth rather than tiiumph to be 
 sought after, 60. 
 
 Truth's loyal service, 53. 
 
 Vanity, all is vanity, 17. 
 Vices made the ladder to virtue, 
 60. 
 
 Warrior inferior to the physi- 
 cian, 20. 
 
 War's discords, 19. 
 
 "War's horrors to no purpose, 18. 
 
 Will. 29, 57. 
 
 Wise is brave, 56. 
 
 Wise is good, 14. 
 
 Work and despair not, 35. 
 
 World made up of all sorts of 
 things, 1. 
 
 Worst man's mate in my own 
 heart, 36. 
 
 Youth's dreams to be rever- 
 enced, 60. 
 
ALPHA. 
 
 O'er wayward childhood wouldst thou hold firm rule, 
 And sun thee in the light of happy faces; 
 Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces, 
 And in thine own heart let them first keep school. 
 For as old Atlas on his broad neck places 
 Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it, so 
 Do these upbear the little world below 
 Of Education, — Patience, Love, and Hope. 
 Methinks, I see them grouped, in seemly show, 
 The straightened arms upraised, the palms aslope, 
 And robes that, touching as adown they flow, 
 Distinctly blend, like snow embossed in snow. 
 O part them never! If Hope prostrate lie, 
 
 Love too will sink and die. 
 But Love is subtle, and doth proof derive 
 From her own life that Hope is yet alive; 
 And bending o'er, with soul-transfusing eyes 
 And the soft murmurs of the mother dove, 
 Woos back the fleeting spirit and half-supplies ; — 
 Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to Love. 
 Yet haply there will come a weary day 
 "When, overtasked at length, 
 Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way. 
 Then, with a statue's smile, a statue's strength, 
 Stands the mute sister, Patience, nothing loth, 
 And, both supporting, does the work of both. 
 
 Coleridge (Love, Hope, and Patience in Education). 
 1 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 The mountain and the squirrel 
 Had a quarrel; 
 And the former called the latter " Little Prig." 
 Bun replied, 
 "You are doubtless very bio:; 
 
 V o 7 
 
 But all sorts of things and weather 
 
 Must be taken in together 
 
 To make up a year 
 
 And a sphere. 
 
 And I think it no disgrace 
 
 To occupy my place. 
 
 If Fm not so large as you, 
 
 You are not so small as I 7 
 
 And not half so spry. 
 
 I'll not deny you make 
 
 A very pretty squirrel track; 
 
 Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; 
 
 If I cannot carry forests on my back, 
 
 Neither can you crack a nut." 
 
 Emerson (Fable). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 A poet's cat, sedate and grave 
 . As poet well could wish to have, 
 Was much addicted to inquire 
 For nooks to which she might retire, 
 And where, secure as mouse in chink, 
 She might repose, or sit and think. 
 I know not where she caught the trick — 
 
 Nature perhaps herself had cast her 
 In such a mould philosophique, 
 
 Or else she learned it of her master. 
 Sometimes ascending, debonair, 
 An apple-tree or lofty pear, 
 Lodged with convenience in the fork, 
 She watched the gardener at his work; 
 Sometimes her ease and solace sought 
 In an old empty watering-pot; 
 There, wanting nothing save a fan, 
 To seem some nymph in her sedan, 
 Apparelled in exactest sort, 
 And ready to be borne to court. 
 
 But love of change, it seems, has place 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Not only in our wiser race; 
 Cats also feel, as well as we, 
 That passion's force, and so did she. 
 Her climbing, she began to find, 
 Exposed her too much to the wind, 
 And the old utensil of tin 
 Was cold and comfortless within: 
 She therefore wished, instead of those, 
 Some place of more serene repose, 
 "Where neither cold might come, nor air 
 Too rudely wanton with her hair; 
 And sought it, in the likeliest mode, 
 Within her master's snug abode. 
 
 A drawer, it chanced, at bottom lined 
 With linen of the softest kind, 
 With such as merchants introduce 
 From India, for the ladies' use, — 
 A drawer impending o'er the rest, 
 Half open in the topmost chest, 
 Of depth enough, and none to spare, 
 Invited her to slumber there. 
 Puss, with delight beyond expression, 
 Surveyed the scene and took possession. 
 Eecumbent at her ease, ere long, 
 And lulled by her own humdrum song, 
 1* 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 She left the cares of life behind, 
 
 And slept as she would sleep her last, 
 When in came, housewifely inclined, 
 
 The chambermaid, and shut it fast; 
 By no malignity impelled, 
 But all unconscious whom it held. 
 
 Awakened by the shock, cried Puss: 
 "Was ever cat attended thus? 
 The open drawer was left, I see, 
 Merely to prove a nest for me; 
 For soon as I was well composed, 
 Then came the maid, and it was closed. 
 How smooth these 'kerchiefs, and how sweet! 
 Oh, what a delicate retreat! 
 I will resign myself to rest 
 Till Sol, declining in the west, 
 Shall call to supper, when, no doubt, 
 Susan will come and let me out." 
 
 The evening came, the sun descended, 
 And Puss remained still unattended. 
 The night rolled tardily away 
 (With her, indeed, 'twas never day), 
 The sprightly morn her course renewed, 
 The evening gray again ensued, 
 And Puss came into mind no more 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 7 
 
 Than if entombed the day before. 
 
 With hunger pinched, and pinched for room, 
 
 She now presaged approaching doom, 
 
 Nor slept a single wink, or purred, 
 
 Conscious of jeopardy incurred. 
 
 That night, by chance, the poet watching 
 Heard an inexplicable scratching 5 
 His noble heart went pit-a-pat, 
 And to himself he said— " What's that?" 
 He drew the curtain at his side, 
 And forth he peeped, but nothing spied; 
 Yet, by his ear directed, guessed 
 Something imprisoned in the chest, 
 And, doubtful what, with prudent care 
 Besolved it should continue there. 
 At length a voice which well he knew, 
 A long and melancholy mew, 
 Saluting his poetic ears, 
 Consoled him and dispelled his fears : 
 He left his bed, he trod the floor, 
 He 'gan in haste the drawers explore, 
 The lowest first, and without stop 
 The rest in order to the top. 
 Tor 'tis a truth well known to most, 
 That whatsoever thine: is lost, 
 
8 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 We seek it, ere it come to light, 
 
 In every cranny but the right. 
 
 Forth skipped the cat, not now replete 
 
 As erst with airy self-conceit, 
 
 Nor in her own fond apprehension 
 
 A theme for all the world's attention, 
 
 But modest, sober, cured of all 
 
 Her notions hyperbolical, 
 
 And wishing for a place of rest 
 
 Anything rather than a chest. 
 
 Then stepped the poet into bed, 
 
 With this reflection in his head: 
 
 Beware of too sublime a sense 
 Of your own worth and consequence : 
 The man who dreams himself so great, 
 And his importance of such weight, 
 That all around, in all that's done, 
 Must move and act for him alone, 
 Will learn in school of tribulation 
 The folly of his expectation. 
 
 Cowper (The Retired Cat). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 IT chanced, then, on a winter's day, 
 But warm and bright and calm as Maj r , 
 The birds, conceiving a design 
 To forestall sweet St. Valentine, 
 In many an orchard, copse, and grove 
 Assembled on affairs of love, 
 And, with much twitter and much chatter, 
 Began to agitate the matter. 
 At length a Bullfinch, who could boast 
 More years and wisdom than the most, 
 Entreated, opening wide his beak, 
 A moment's liberty to speak; 
 And, silence publicly enjoined, 
 Delivered briefly thus his mind : 
 
 " My friends ! be cautious how ye treat 
 The subject upon which we meet; 
 I fear we shall have winter yet." 
 
 A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, 
 With golden wing and satin poll, 
 A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried 
 What marriage means, thus pert replied: 
 
10 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 " Methinks the gentleman/ 7 quoth she, 
 " Opposite in the apple-tree, 
 By his good will would keep us single 
 Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle, 
 Or (which is likelier to befall) 
 Till death exterminate us all. 
 I marry without more ado; 
 My dear Dick Eedcap, what say you ? v 
 
 Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, 
 Turning short round, strutting, and sidling, 
 Attested, glad, his approbation 
 Of an immediate conjugation. 
 Their sentiments so well expressed 
 Influenced mightily the rest: 
 All paired, and each pair built a nest. 
 
 But, though the birds were thus in haste, 
 The leaves came on not quite so fast; 
 And Destiny, that sometimes bears 
 An aspect stern on man's affairs, 
 Not altogether smiled on theirs. 
 The wind, of late breathed gently forth, 
 Now shifted east, and east by north. 
 Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, 
 Could shelter them from rain or snow : 
 Stepping into their nests, they paddled, 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 11 
 
 Themselves were chilled, their eggs were addled. 
 
 Soon every father bird and mother 
 
 Grew quarrelsome and pecked each other, 
 
 Parted without the least regret 
 
 Except that they had ever met, 
 
 And learned in future to be wiser 
 
 Than to neglect a good adviser. 
 
 Misses! the tale that I relate 
 
 This lesson seems to carry — 
 Choose not alone a proper mate, 
 
 But proper time to marry. 
 
 Cowper (Pairing Time Anticipated). 
 
12 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 The deep affections of the breast 
 That Heaven to living things imparts, 
 Are not exclusively possessed 
 By human hearts. 
 
 A parrot, from the Spanish Main, 
 
 Full young, and early caged, came o'er 
 
 With bright wings to the bleak domain 
 Of Mulla's shore. 
 
 To spicy groves where he had won 
 His plumage of resplendent hue, 
 
 His native fruits, and skies, and sun, 
 He bade adieu. 
 
 For these he changed the smoke of turf, 
 A heathery land and misty sky, 
 
 And turned on rocks and raging surf 
 His golden eye. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 13 
 
 But, petted, in our climate cold 
 He lived and chattered many a day; 
 
 Until, with age, from green and gold 
 His wings grew gray. 
 
 At last, when, blind and seeming dumb, 
 He scolded, laughed, and spoke no more, 
 
 A Spanish stranger chanced to come 
 To Mullahs shore; 
 
 He hailed the bird in Spanish speech, 
 The bird in Spanish speech replied, 
 
 Flapped round his cage with joyous screech, 
 Dropped down, and died. 
 
 Campbell (The Parrot). 
 
14 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 The greenhouse is my summer seat; 
 My shrubs, displaced from that retreat. 
 Enjoyed the open air; 
 Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song 
 Had been their mutual solace long, 
 Lived happy prisoners there. 
 
 They sang as blithe as finches sing 
 That flutter loose on golden wing, 
 
 And frolic where they list; 
 Strangers to liberty, 'tis true, 
 But that delight they never knew, 
 
 And therefore never missed. 
 
 But Nature works in every breast, 
 With force not easily suppressed ; 
 
 And Dick felt some desires 
 That, after many an effort vain, 
 Instructed him at length to gain 
 
 A pass between his wires. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 15 
 
 The open windows seemed to invite 
 The freeman to a farewell flight; 
 
 But Tom was still confined; 
 And Dick, although his way was clear, 
 Was much too generous and sincere 
 
 To leave his friend behind. 
 
 So, settling on his cage, by play, 
 
 And chirp, and kiss, he seemed to say : 
 
 You must not live alone; — 
 Nor would he quit that chosen stand 
 Till I, with slow and cautious hand, 
 
 Returned him to his own. 
 
 O ye, who never taste the joys 
 Of friendship, satisfied with noise, 
 
 Fandango, ball, and rout! 
 Blush when I tell you how a bird 
 A prison with a friend preferred 
 
 To liberty without. 
 
 Cowper (Tlie Faith fid Bird). 
 
16 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 6 
 
 Androcles from his injured lord, in dread 
 .jLjL Of instant death, to Libya's desert fled. 
 Tired with his toilsome flight, and parched with 
 
 heat, 
 He spied at length a cavern's cool retreat, 
 But scarce had given to rest his weary frame 
 When, hugest of his kind, a lion came: 
 He roared approaching, but the savage din 
 To plaintive murmurs changed, arrived within • 
 And, with expressive looks, his lifted paw 
 Presenting, aid implored from whom he saw. 
 The fugitive, through terror at a stand, 
 Dared not awhile afford his trembling hand, 
 But, bolder grown, at length inherent found 
 A pointed thorn, and drew it from the wound. 
 The cure was wrought; he wiped the sanious blood, 
 And firm and free from pain the lion stood. 
 Again he seeks the wilds, and day by day 
 Regales his inmate with the parted prey; 
 Nor he disdains the dole, though unprepared, 
 Spread on the ground, and with a lion shared. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 17 
 
 But thus to live — still lost — sequestered still — 
 Scarce seemed his lord's revenge a heavier ill. 
 Home ! native home ! O might he but repair ! 
 He must, he will, though death attends him there. 
 He goes, and, doomed to perish, on the sands 
 Of the full theatre unpitied stands : 
 When lo ! the self-same lion from his cage 
 Flies to devour him, famished into rage. 
 He flies, but viewing in his purposed prey 
 The man, his healer, pauses on his way, 
 And, softened by remembrance into sweet 
 And kind composure, crouches at his feet. 
 
 Mute with astonishment the assembly gaze: 
 But why, ye Eomans ? Whence your mute 
 
 amaze ? 
 All this is natural : Nature bade him rend 
 An enemy; she bids him spare a friend. 
 
 Cowpes (Reciprocal Kindness). 
 
 2* 
 
18 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 A barking sound the Shepherd hears, 
 A cry as of a dog or fox; 
 He halts — and searches with his eyes 
 Among the scattered rocks; 
 And now at distance can discern 
 A stirring in a brake of fern; 
 And instantly a dog is seen, 
 Glancing through that covert green. 
 
 The Dog is not of mountain breed; 
 
 Its motions, too, are wild and shy; 
 
 With something, as the Shepherd thinks, 
 
 Unusual in its cry; 
 
 Nor is there any one in sight 
 
 All round, in hollow or on height ; 
 
 Nor shout nor whistle strikes his ear; 
 
 What is the Creature doing here ? 
 
 It was a cove, a huge recess, 
 
 That keeps till June December's snow; 
 
 A lofty precipice in front, 
 
 A silent tarn below ! 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 19 
 
 Far in the bosoin of Helvellyn, 
 Remote from public road or dwelling, 
 Pathway, or cultivated land; 
 From trace of human foot or hand. 
 
 There sometimes doth a leaping fish 
 Send through the tarn a lonely cheer ; 
 The crags repeat the raven's croak, 
 In symphony austere ; 
 Thither the rainbow comes — the cloud — 
 And mists that spread the flying shroud; 
 And sunbeams ; and the sounding blast 
 That, if it could, would hurry past; 
 But that enormous barrier binds it fast. 
 
 Not free from boding thoughts, a while 
 The Shepherd stood; then makes his way 
 Towards the Dog, o'er rocks and stones, 
 As quickly as he may; 
 Nor far had gone before he found 
 A human skeleton on the ground. 
 The appalled discoverer, with a sigh, 
 Looks round to learn the history. 
 
 From those abrupt and perilous rocks 
 The Man had fallen, that place of fear! 
 
20 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 At length upon the Shepherd's mind 
 
 It breaks, and all is clear: 
 
 He instantly recalled the name, 
 
 And who he was, and whence he came; 
 
 Keinenibered, too, the very day 
 
 On which the traveller passed this way. 
 
 But hear a wonder, for whose sake 
 
 This lamentable tale I tell! 
 
 A lasting monument of words 
 
 This wonder merits well. 
 
 The Dog, which still was hovering nigh, 
 
 Eepeating the same timid cry, 
 
 This Dog had been, through three months' space, 
 
 A dweller in that savage place. 
 
 Yes, proof was plain that, since the day 
 When this ill-fated traveller died, 
 The Dog had watched about the spot, 
 Or by his Master's side: 
 
 How nourished here through such long time 
 He knows who gave that love sublime, 
 And gave that strength of feeling, great 
 Above all human estimate. 
 
 Wordsworth f Fidelity). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 21 
 
 8 
 
 1IE here, without a record of thy worth, 
 A Beneath a covering of the common earth ! 
 It is not from unwillingness to praise, 
 Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise ; 
 More thou deserv'st, but this Man gives to Man, 
 Brother to Brother — this is all we can. 
 Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dear 
 Shall find thee through all changes of the year : 
 This Oak points out thy grave; the silent Tree 
 Will gladly stand a monument of thee. 
 
 I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were 
 past, 
 And willingly have laid thee here at last: 
 For thou hadst lived till everything that cheers, 
 In thee had yielded to the weight of years; 
 Extreme old age had wasted thee away, 
 And left thee but a glimmering of the day; 
 Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees, — 
 I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze, 
 Too weak to stand against its sportive breath, 
 And ready for the gentlest stroke of death. 
 
22 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 It came, and we were glad ; yet tears were shed : 
 Both. Man and "Woman wept when Thou wert 
 
 dead — 
 Not only for a thousand thoughts that were, 
 Old household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy 
 
 share 5 
 But for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee, 
 Found scarcely anywhere in like degree! 
 For Love, that comes to all — the holy sense, 
 Best gift of God — in thee was most intense; 
 A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind, 
 A tender sympathy, which did thee bind 
 Not only to us Men, but to thy Kind: 
 Yea, for thy Fellow-brutes in thee we saw 
 The soul of Love, Love's intellectual law. 
 Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame: 
 Our tears from reason and from passion came ; 
 And therefore shalt thou be an honored name! 
 
 Wordsworth (Tribute to the Memory of a Dog J. 
 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 23 
 
 A peasant to his lord paid yearly court. 
 Presenting pippins, of so rich, a sort 
 That he, displeased to have a part alone, 
 Removed the tree, that all might be his own. 
 The tree, too old to travel, though before 
 So fruitful, withered, and would yield no more. 
 The squire, perceiving all his labor void, 
 Cursed his own pains, so foolishly employed. 
 And "Oh," he cried, "that I had lived content 
 With tribute, small indeed, but kindly meant! 
 My avarice has expensive proved to me, — 
 Has cost me both my pippins and my tree." 
 Cowper (The Cottager and his Landlord). 
 
24 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 A 
 
 10 
 
 youngster at school, more sedate than tlie 
 rest, 
 
 Had once his integrity put to the test : 
 His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob, 
 And asked him to go and assist in the job. 
 
 He was shocked, sir, like you, and answered, 
 
 "Oh, no! 
 "What ! rob our good neighbor ! I pray you 
 
 don't go; 
 Besides, the man's poor, his orchard's his bread; 
 Then think of his children, for they must be f ed.' ? 
 
 " You speak very fine, and you look very grave, 
 But apples we want, and apples we'll have; 
 If you will go with us, you shall have a share, 
 If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear." 
 
 They spoke, and Tom pondered — "I see they 
 
 will go; 
 Poor man ! what a pity to injure him so ! 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 25 
 
 Poor man ! I would save him his fruit if I could, 
 But staying behind will do him no good. 
 
 "If the matter depended alone upon me, 
 
 His apples might hang till they dropped from the 
 
 tree ; 
 But since they will take them, I think Fll go too, — 
 He will lose none by me, though I get a few." 
 
 His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease, 
 And went with his comrades the apples to seize ; 
 He blamed and protested, but joined in the plan : 
 He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man. 
 Cowper (Pity for Poor Africans). 
 
26 BEDSIDE POETRY, 
 
 11 
 
 I love contemplating — apart 
 From all his homicidal glory — 
 The traits that soften to our heart 
 Napoleon's story. 
 
 7 Twas when his banners at Boulogne 
 Armed in our island every freeman, 
 
 His navy chanced to capture one 
 Poor British seaman. 
 
 They suffered him — I know not how — 
 Unprisoned on the shore to roam ,• 
 
 And aye was bent his longing brow 
 On England's home. 
 
 At last, when care had banished sleep, 
 He saw one morning — dreaming — doting- 
 
 An empty hogshead from the deep 
 Come shoreward floating. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 27 
 
 He liid it in a cave, and wrought 
 The livelong day laborious ; lurking 
 
 Until he launched a tiny boat 
 By mighty working. 
 
 Heaven help us ! 'twas a thing beyond 
 Description wretched ; such a wherry 
 
 Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond, 
 Or crossed a ferry. 
 
 For ploughing in the salt-sea field 
 
 It would have made the boldest shudder ; 
 
 Untarred, uncornpassed, and unkeeled, 
 No sail — no rudder. 
 
 From neighboring woods he interlaced 
 His sorry skiff with wattled willows; 
 
 And thus equipped he would have passed 
 The foaming billows — 
 
 But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, 
 
 His little Argo sorely jeering; 
 Till tidings of him chanced to reach 
 
 Napoleon's hearing. 
 
28 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 "With folded arms Napoleon stood, 
 Serene alike in peace and danger; 
 
 And, in his wonted attitude, 
 Addressed the stranger: — 
 
 " Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass 
 On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned! 
 
 Thy heart with some sweet British lass 
 Must be impassioned." 
 
 " I have no sweetheart," said the lad ; 
 
 "But — absent long from one another — 
 Great was the longing that I had 
 
 To see my mother." 
 
 "And so thou shalt," Napoleon said; 
 
 "YeVe both my favor fairly won; 
 A noble mother must have bred 
 
 So brave a son." 
 
 He gave the tar a piece of gold, 
 
 And, with a flag of truce, commanded 
 
 He should be shipped to England Old, 
 And safely landed. 
 
BEDSIDE POLJTEY. 29 
 
 Oar sailor oft could scantily shift 
 To find a dinner, plain and hearty; 
 
 But never changed the coin and gift 
 
 Of Bonaparte. 
 Campbell (Napoleon and the British Sailor J. 
 
30 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 12 
 
 Jaffar, the Barmecide, the good Vizier, 
 The poor man's hope, the friend without a 
 peer, 
 Jaffar was dead, slain by a doom unjust; 
 And guilty Haroun, sullen with mistrust 
 Of what the good and e'en the bad might say, 
 Ordained that no man living from tha.t day 
 Should dare to speak his name on pain of death. — 
 All Araby and Persia held their breath. 
 
 All but the brave Mondeer. — He, proud to show 
 How far for love a grateful soul could go, 
 And facing death for very scorn and grief 
 (For his great heart wanted a great relief), 
 Stood forth in Bagdad, daily, in the square 
 Where once had stood a happy house ; and there 
 Harangued the tremblers at the scimetar 
 On all they owed to the divine Jaffar. 
 
 " Bring me this man/' the caliph cried. The man 
 Was brought — was gazed upon. The mutes began 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 31 
 
 To bind his arms. "Welcome, brave cords!" 
 cried lie 5 
 
 "From bonds far worse Jaffar delivered me; 
 
 From wants, from shames, from loveless house- 
 hold fears ; 
 
 Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears; 
 
 Restored me — loved me — put me on a par 
 
 With his great self. How can I pay Jaffar V 
 
 Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this 
 The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss, 
 Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate 
 Might smile upon another half as great. 
 He said, "Let worth grow frenzied if it will; 
 The caliph's judgment shall be master still. 
 Go : and since gifts thus move thee, take this gem, 
 The richest in the Tartar's diadem, 
 And hold the giver as thou deem est fit." 
 
 " Gifts ! " cried the friend. He took ; and hold- 
 ing it 
 
 High towards the heaven, as though to meet 
 his star, 
 
 Exclaimed, " This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffar ! " 
 Leigh Hunt ( Jaffar J. 
 
32 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 13 
 
 Astrangeh came one night to Yussouf ? s tent, 
 . Saying, " Behold one outcast and in dread, 
 Against whose life the bow of power is bent, 
 Who flies, and hath not where to lay his head; 
 I come to thee for shelter and for food, 
 To Yussouf, called through all our tribes 'The 
 Good."' 
 
 "This tent is mine," said Yussouf, "but no more 
 Than it is God's; come in, and be at peace; 
 Freely shalt thou partake of all my store 
 As I of His who buildeth over these 
 Oar tents his glorious roof of night and day, 
 And at whose door none ever yet heard Nay." 
 
 So Yussouf entertained his guest that night, 
 And, waking him ere day, said: "Here is gold, 
 My swiftest horse is saddled for thy flight; 
 Depart before the prying day grow bold." 
 As one lamp lights another, nor grows less, 
 So nobleness enkindleth nobleness. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 33 
 
 That inward light the stranger's face made grand 
 "Which shines from all self-conquest; kneeling 
 
 low, 
 He bowed his forehead upon Yussouf 's hand, 
 Sobbing: "0 Sheik, I cannot leave thee so; 
 I will repay thee; all this thou hast done 
 Unto that Ibrahim who slew thy son ! v 
 
 u Take thrice the gold," said Yussouf, " for with 
 
 thee 
 Into the desert, never to return, 
 My one black thought shall ride away from me. 
 First-born, for whom by day and night I yearn, 
 Balanced and just are all of God's decrees; 
 Thou art avenged, my first-born, sleep in peace ! n 
 
 Lowell (Yussouf), 
 
34 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 14 
 
 Iokmax the Wise, therefore the Good (for wise 
 J Is but sage good, seeing with final eyes), 
 Was slave once to a lord, jealous though kind, 
 Who, piqued sometimes at the man's master 
 
 mind, 
 Gave him, one day, to see how he would treat 
 So strange a grace, a bitter gourd to eat. 
 
 With simplest reverence, and no surprise, 
 
 The sage received what stretched the donor's 
 
 eyes ; 
 And, piece by piece, as though it had been food 
 To feast and gloat on, every morsel chewed ; 
 And so stood eating, with his patient beard, 
 Till all the nauseous favor disappeared. 
 
 Vexed, and confounded, and disposed to find 
 Some ground of scorn on which to ease his mind, 
 "Lokinan! n exclaimed his master, "in God's 
 
 name, 
 Where could the veriest slave get soul so tame? 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 35 
 
 Have all my favors been bestowed amiss? 
 Or could not brains like thine have saved thee 
 this?" 
 
 Calmly stood Lokman still, as duty stands — 
 " Have I received," he answered, " at thine hands 
 Favors so sweet they went to mine heart's root, 
 And could I not accept one bitter fruit?" 
 
 "O Lokman!" said his lord (and as he spoke, 
 For very love his words in softness broke), 
 "Take but this favor yet: — Be slave no more; 
 Be, as thou art, my friend and counsellor. 
 Oh be; nor let me quit thee, self-abhorred: 
 'Tis I that am the slave, and thou the lord." 
 
 Leigh Hunt (The Bitter Gourd). 
 
36 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 15 
 
 Saint Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herds 
 Of Ballymen, awakened with these words: 
 "Arise, and flee 
 Out from the land of bondage, and be free ! w 
 
 Glad as a soul in pain who hears from heaven 
 The angels singing of his sins forgiven, 
 
 And, wondering, sees 
 His prison opening to their golden keys, 
 
 He rose a man who laid him down a slave, 
 Shook from his locks the ashes of the grave, 
 
 And outward trod 
 Into the glorious liberty of God. 
 
 He cast the symbols of his shame away ; 
 And, passing where the sleeping Milcho lay, 
 
 Though back and limb 
 Smarted with wrong, he prayed, "God pardon 
 him ! » 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 37 
 
 So went he forth; but in God's time he came 
 To light on Uilline's hills a holy flame; 
 
 And, dying, gave 
 The land a saint that lost him as a slave. 
 
 Whittier (The Proclamation). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 16 
 
 abou ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) 
 11 Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace. 
 And saw, within the moonlight in his room, 
 Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, 
 An angel writing in a book of gold. 
 Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 
 And to the presence in the room he said, 
 " What writest thou?" — The vision raised its head, 
 And, with a look made all of sweet accord, 
 Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." 
 " And is mine one ? n said Abou. " Nay, not so," 
 Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 
 But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, 
 Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 
 
 The angel wrote and vanished. The next night 
 It came again, with a great wakening light, 
 And showed the names whom love of God had 
 
 blessed, 
 And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 
 Leigh Hunt (Abou ben Adhem). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 39 
 
 17 
 
 I met a traveller from an antique land 
 Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of 
 stone 
 Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, 
 Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, 
 And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, 
 Tell that its sculptor well those passions read 
 Which yet survive (stamped on these lifeless 
 
 things) 
 The hand that mocked them and the heart that 
 
 fed; 
 And on the pedestal these words appear: 
 " My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings : 
 Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair ! " 
 Nothing beside remains. Round the decay 
 Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare 
 The lone and level sands stretch far away. 
 
 Shelley (Ozymandias). 
 
40 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 18 
 
 IT was a summer evening ; 
 Old Kaspar's work was done, 
 And he before his cottage door 
 
 Was sitting in the sun 5 
 And by him sported on the green 
 His little grandchild Wilhelmine. 
 
 She saw her brother Peterkin 
 Roll something large and round, 
 
 Which he beside the rivulet 
 In playing there had found; 
 
 He came to ask what he had found 
 
 That was so large and smooth and round. 
 
 Old Kaspar took it from the boy, 
 
 Who stood expectant by; 
 And then the old man shook his head, 
 
 And, with a natural sigh, 
 "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said ho, 
 "Who fell in the great victory. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 41 
 
 "I find them in the garden, 
 
 For there's many here about; 
 And often, when I go to plough, 
 
 The ploughshare turns them out. 
 For many thousand men/ 7 said he, 
 "Were slain in that great victory ." 
 
 "Now tell us what 'twas all about," 
 
 Young Peterkin he cries; 
 And little Wilhelmine looks up 
 
 With wonder- waiting eyes; 
 "Now tell us all about the war, 
 And what they fought each other for." 
 
 "It was the English," Kaspar cried, 
 "Who put the French to rout; 
 
 But what they fought each other for, 
 I could not well make out. 
 
 But everybody said," quoth he, 
 
 "That 'twas a famous victory. 
 
 " My father lived at Blenheim then, 
 
 Yon little stream hard by; 
 They burnt his dwelling to the ground, 
 
 And he was forced to fly: 
 
 4* 
 
42 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 So with his wife and child he fled, 
 Nor had he where to rest his head. 
 
 " With fire and sword the country round 
 
 "Was wasted far and wide, 
 And many a childing mother then 
 
 And new-born baby died: 
 But things like that, you know, must be 
 At every famous victory. 
 
 "They say it was a shocking sight 
 
 After the field was won; 
 For many thousand bodies here 
 
 Lay rotting in the sun: 
 But things like that, you know, must be 
 After a famous victory. 
 
 "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, 
 And our good Prince Eugene." 
 
 " Why, 'twas a very wicked thing ! n 
 Said little Wilhelmine. 
 
 "Nay — nay — my little girl," quoth he, 
 
 "It was a famous victory. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 43 
 
 "And everybody praised the Duke 
 
 Who this great fight did win." 
 "But what good came of it at last?" 
 
 Quoth little Peterkin. 
 " Why, that I cannot tell," said he, 
 " But 'twas a famous victory." 
 
 Southey (The Battle of Blenheim J. 
 
44 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 19 
 
 This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, 
 Like a huge organ, rise the burnished 
 arms; 
 But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing 
 Startles the villages with strange alarms. 
 
 Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, 
 When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! 
 
 What loud lament and dismal Miserere 
 Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! 
 
 I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, 
 The cries of agony, the endless groan, 
 
 Which, through the ages that have gone before us, 
 In long reverberations reach our own. 
 
 On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer, 
 Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's 
 song, 
 
 And loud, amid the universal clamor, 
 
 O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 45 
 
 I hear the Florentine, who from his palace 
 Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din, 
 
 And Aztec priests upon their teocallis 
 
 Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin; 
 
 The tumult of each sacked and burning village ; 
 
 The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns ; 
 The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage ; 
 
 The wail of famine in beleaguered towns; 
 
 The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, 
 The rattling musketry, the clashing blade; 
 
 And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, 
 The diapason of the cannonade. 
 
 Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, 
 With such accursed instruments as these, 
 
 Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, 
 And j arrest the celestial harmonies J ? 
 
 Were half the power that fills the world with terror, 
 Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and 
 courts, 
 
 Given to redeem the human mind from error, 
 There were no need of arsenals nor forts : 
 
46 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! 
 
 And every nation that should lift again 
 Its hand against a brother, on its forehead 
 
 Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain! 
 
 Down the dark future, through long generations, 
 The echoing sounds grow fainter and then 
 cease ; 
 And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 
 I hear once more the voice of Christ say, 
 " Peace ! " 
 
 Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals 
 The blast of War's great organ shakes the 
 skies ! 
 But, beautiful as songs of the immortals, 
 The holy melodies of love arise. 
 
 Longfellow (The Arsenal at Springfield). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 47 
 
 20 
 
 AS Life's unending column pours, 
 JLjL Two marshalled hosts are seen, — 
 Two armies on the trampled shores 
 
 That Death flows black between. 
 
 One marches to the drum-beat's roll, 
 The wide-mouthed clarion's bray, 
 
 And bears, upon a crimson scroll, 
 "Our glory is to slay." 
 
 One moves in silence by the stream, 
 
 With sad yet watchful eyes, 
 Calm as the patient planet's gleam 
 
 That walks the clouded skies. 
 
 Along its front no sabres shine, 
 
 No blood-red pennons wave; 
 Its banner bears the single line, 
 
 " Our duty is to save." 
 
 Holmes ( The Two Armies). 
 
48 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 21 
 
 Can I see another's woe 
 And not be in sorrow too? 
 Can I see another's grief 
 And not seek for kind relief? 
 
 Can I see a falling tear 
 And not feel my sorrow's share? 
 Can a father see his child 
 Weep, nor be with sorrow filled? 
 
 Can a mother sit and hear 
 An infant groan, an infant fear ? 
 No, no ! never can it be ! 
 Never, never can it be ! 
 
 Blake (On Another's SorroivJ. 
 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 49 
 
 22 
 
 Pity the sorrows of a poor old man 
 Whose trembling limbs have borne him to 
 your door, 
 "Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; 
 Oh ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. 
 
 These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak, 
 These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened 
 years ; 
 
 And many a furrow in my grief- worn cheek 
 Has been the channel to a stream of tears. 
 
 Yon house, erected on the rising ground, 
 
 With tempting aspect drew me from my road ; 
 
 For Plenty there a residence has found, 
 And Grandeur a magnificent abode. 
 
 Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor ! 
 
 Here, craving for a morsel of their bread, 
 A pampered menial forced me from the door, 
 
 To seek a shelter in an humbler shed. 
 
50 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Oh! take me to your hospitable dome; 
 
 Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold ! 
 Short is my passage to the friendly tomb, 
 
 For I am poor and miserably old. 
 
 Thomas Moss (The Beggar). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 51 
 
 23 
 
 SWEET Mercy ! how my very heart has bled 
 To see thee, poor Old Man ! and thy gray 
 hairs 
 Hoar with the snowy blast: while no one cares 
 To clothe thy shrivelled limbs and palsied head. 
 My Father! throw away this tattered vest 
 That mocks thy shivering! take my garment — 
 
 use 
 A young man's arm ! I'll melt these frozen dews 
 That hang from thy white beard and numb thy 
 
 breast. 
 My Sara too shall tend thee, like a child: 
 And thou shalt talk, in our fireside's recess, 
 Of purple pride that scowls on wretchedness. 
 He did not so, the Galilean mild, 
 Who met the Lazars turned from rich men's 
 
 doors, 
 
 And called them Friends, and healed their noisome 
 
 sores ! 
 
 Coleridge. 
 
52 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 24 
 
 OH ye! who, sunk in beds of down, 
 Feel not a want but what yourselves create, 
 Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate 
 Whom friends and fortune quite disown ! 
 Ill-satisfied keen nature's clamorous call, 
 
 Stretched on his straw he lays himself to sleep, 
 While, through the ragged roof and chinky wall, 
 Chill o'er his slumbers piles the drifty heap! 
 Think on the dungeon's grim confine, 
 Where guilt and poor misfortune pine! 
 
 Affliction's sons are brothers in distress : 
 A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss ! 
 Burns (A Winter Night). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 53 
 
 25 
 
 AH ! bleak and barren was the moor, 
 . Ah! loud and piercing was the storm; 
 The cottage roof was sheltered sure, 
 
 The cottage hearth was bright and warm. 
 An orphan-boy the lattice passed, 
 
 And, as he marked its cheerful glow, 
 Felt doubly keen the midnight blast, 
 And doubly cold the fallen snow. 
 
 They marked him as he onward pressed, 
 
 With fainting heart and weary limb ; 
 Kind voices bade him turn and rest, 
 
 And gentle faces welcomed him. 
 The dawn is up — the guest is gone, 
 
 The cottage hearth is blazing still: 
 Heaven pity all poor wanderers lone ! 
 
 Hark to the wind upon the hill ! 
 
 Thackeray. 
 
54 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 26 
 
 BLOW, blow, thou winter wind, 
 Thou art not so unkind 
 As man's ingratitude; 
 Thy tooth is not so keen 
 Because thou art not seen, 
 Although thy breath be rude. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
 Thou dost not bite so nigh 
 As benefits forgot: 
 Though thou the waters warp, 
 Thy sting is not so sharp 
 As friend remembered not. 
 
 Shakspere (As You Like It). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 55 
 
 27 
 
 A las ! they had been friends in youth ; 
 ~£\- But whispering tongues can poison truth 5 
 And constancy lives in realms above; 
 And life is thorny; and youth is vain; 
 And to be wroth with one we love, 
 Doth work like madness in the brain. 
 And thus it chanced, as I divine, 
 With Roland aad Sir Leoliue. 
 Each spake words of high disdain 
 And insult to his heart's best brother : 
 They parted — ne'er to meet again! 
 But never either found another 
 To free the hollow heart from paining — 
 They stood aloof, the scars remaining, 
 Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; 
 A dreary sea now flows between; — 
 But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, 
 Shall wholly do away, I ween, 
 The marks of that which once hath been. 
 Coleridge fChristabelJ. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 28 
 
 These little firs to-day are things 
 To clasp into a giant's cap, 
 Or fans to suit his lady's lap. 
 From many winters many springs 
 
 Shall cherish them in strength and sap, 
 Till they be marked upon the map, 
 A wood for the wind's wanderings. 
 
 All seed is in the sower's hands : 
 
 And what at first was trained to spread 
 Its shelter for some single head, — 
 
 Yea, even such fellowship of wands, — 
 May hide the sunset, and the shade 
 Of its great multitude be laid 
 
 Upon the earth and elder sands. 
 
 D. G-. Rossetti (A Young Fir -Wood). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 57 
 
 29 
 
 O truth ! Freedom ! how are ye still born 
 In the rude stable, in the manger nursed ! 
 What humble hands unbar those gates of morn 
 Through which the splendors of the New Day 
 burst ! 
 
 Who is it will not dare himself to trust? 
 
 Who is it hath not strength to stand alone? 
 Who is it thwarts and bilks the inward must? 
 
 He and his works, like sand, from earth are 
 blown. 
 
 Shall we not heed the lesson taught of old, 
 And by the Present's lips repeated still, 
 
 In our own single manhood to be bold, 
 
 Fortressed in conscience and impregnable will ? 
 
 We stride the river daily at its spring, 
 
 Nor, in our childish thoughtlessness, foresee 
 
 What myriad vassal streams shall tribute bring, 
 How like an equal it shall greet the sea. 
 
58 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 O small beginnings, ye are great and strong, 
 Based on a faithful heart and weariless brain ! 
 
 Ye build the future fair, . ye conquer wrong, 
 Ye earn the crown, and wear it not in vain. 
 Lowell (To W. L. Garrison). 
 
 30 
 
 Small service is true service while it lasts: 
 Of humblest friends, bright creaturS ! scorn 
 not one; 
 The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts, 
 Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun. 
 Wordsworth (In a Child's Album). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY, 59 
 
 31 
 
 Iittle thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked 
 A clown 
 Of thee from the hill-top looking down ; 
 The heifer that lows in the upland farm, 
 Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; 
 The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 
 Deems not that great Napoleon 
 Stops his horse, and lists with delight, 
 Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height ; 
 Nor knowest thou what argument 
 Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 
 All are needed by each one; 
 Nothing is fair or good alone. 
 I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, 
 Singing at dawn on the alder bough ; 
 I brought him home, in his nest, at even; 
 He sings the song, but it pleases not now, 
 For I did not bring home the river and sky; — 
 He sang to my ear, — they sang to my eye. 
 The delicate shells lay on the shore; 
 
60 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 The bub.bles of the latest wave 
 Fresh pearls to their enamel gave; 
 And the bellowing of the savage sea 
 Greeted their safe escape to me. 
 I wiped away the weeds and foam, 
 I fetched my sea-born treasures home; 
 But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 
 Had left their beauty on the shore 
 With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar. 
 Emerson (Each and All). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 61 
 
 32 
 
 EVERY night and every morn 
 Some to misery are born ; 
 Every morn and every night 
 Some are born to sweet delight; 
 Some are born to sweet delight, 
 Some are born to endless night. 
 Joy and woe are woven fine, 
 A clothing for the soul divine; 
 Under every grief and pine 
 Euns a joy with silken twine. 
 It is right it should be so: 
 Man was made for joy and woe; 
 And when this we rightly know, 
 Safely through the world we go. 
 
 Blake f Auguries of Innocence). 
 
62 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 33 
 
 I SAW a mother and her child, — 
 A spectacle of every day ! 
 As many a mother smiles, she smiled, 
 
 He played as any child might play ; 
 Yet was her heart so full, she turned 
 
 To him who owned a father's name, 
 And, while her cheek, all rosy, burned, 
 
 Cried, " May he never come to shame ! n 
 Her words were oracles: long years 
 Have solved the riddle of her fears. 
 
 I saw a youth amidst the tide 
 
 Of city life, that ever rolls, 
 Wave urging wave, from side to side, 
 
 A soul among a million souls: 
 By none acknowledged, knowing none, 
 
 Homeless and hopeless, yet a spark, 
 The latest of a secret flame, 
 
 He deeply cherished in the dark, — 
 Nameless, to leave a deathless name. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 63 
 
 He slept and dreamed his dream anew; 
 Years passed — he woke — and found it true! 
 Montgomery (Fragment of a Life). 
 
 34 
 
 AH ! if thy fate, with anguish fraught, 
 . Should be to wet the dusty soil 
 With the hot tears and sweat of toil, — 
 To struggle with imperious thought 
 Until the overburdened brain, 
 Weary with labor, faint with pain, 
 Like a jarred pendulum, retain 
 Only its motion, not its power, — 
 Remember, in that perilous hour, 
 When most afflicted and oppressed, 
 From labor there shall come forth rest. 
 
 And if a more auspicious fate 
 On thy advancing steps await, 
 Still let it ever be thy pride 
 To linger by the laborer's side ; 
 
64 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 With words of sympathy or song 
 To cheer the dreary march along 
 Of the great army of the poor, 
 O'er desert sand, o'er dangerous moor. 
 Nor to thyself the task shall be 
 Without reward; for thou shalt learn 
 The wisdom early to discern 
 True beauty in utility. 
 
 Longfellow (To a Child). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 65 
 
 35 
 
 The Future hides in it 
 Gladness and sorrow; 
 We press still thorow, — 
 Nought that abides in it 
 Daunting us, — onward. 
 
 And solemn before us, 
 Veiled, the dark Portal, 
 Goal of all mortal : — 
 Stars silent rest o'er us, 
 Graves under us silent ! 
 
 While earnest thou gazest, 
 Comes boding of terror, 
 Comes phantasm and error; 
 Perplexes the bravest 
 With doubt and misgiving. 
 
 But heard are the Voices, 
 
 Heard are the Sages, 
 
 The Worlds and the Ages : 
 
66 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 " Choose well, your choice is 
 Brief, and yet endless 
 
 " Here eyes do regard you 
 In Eternity's stillness 5 
 Here is all fulness, 
 Te brave ! to reward you • 
 Work, and despair not ! " 
 Goethe, translated by Carlyle (Bymbolum). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 67 
 
 36 
 
 LOOKING within myself, I note how thin 
 i A plank of station, chance, or prosperous 
 fate 
 Doth fence me from the clutching waves of 
 sin : 
 In my own heart I find the worst man's 
 
 mate, 
 And see not dimly the smooth-hinged gate 
 That opes to those abysses 
 Where ye grope darkly, — ye who never knew 
 On your young hearts love's consecrating dew, 
 Or felt a mother's kisses, 
 Or home's restraining tendrils round you 
 
 curled. 
 Ah, side by side with heart's-ease in this world 
 The fatal nightshade grows, and bitter rue ! 
 Lowell (Si Descendero in Infemiim, AdesJ. 
 
68 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 37 
 
 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 
 Some heart once pregnant with celestial 
 fire; 
 Hands that the rod of empire might have 
 
 swayed, 
 Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre: 
 
 But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 
 Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; 
 Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, 
 And froze the genial current of the soul. 
 
 Pull many a gem of purest ray serene 
 The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
 
 Gray (Elegy in a Country Churchyard). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 69 
 
 38 
 
 Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, 
 From yon blue heavens above us bent 
 The gardener Adam and his wife 
 
 Smile at the claims of long descent, 
 Howe'er it be, it seems to me 
 ? Tis only noble to be good. 
 Kind hearts are more than coronets, 
 And simple faith than Norman blood. 
 Tennyson (Lady Clara Vere de Vere J. 
 
70 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 39 
 
 IS there, for honest poverty, 
 That hangs his head, and sJ that? 
 The coward slave, we pass him by, 
 
 We darfc be poor for a' that! 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Our toils obscure, and a' that; 
 The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
 The man's the gowd for a' that ! 
 
 "What though on hamely fare we dine, 
 
 Wear hoddin gray, and a' that, 
 Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 
 
 A man's a man, for a' that ! 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
 The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 
 
 Is king o' men for a' that ! 
 
 Ye see yon birkie, ca'd " a lord," 
 Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 71 
 
 Though hundreds worship at his word, 
 
 He's but a coof for a' that : 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 His riband, star, and a' that; 
 The man of independent mind, 
 
 He looks and laughs at a' that. 
 
 A king can mak a belted knight, 
 
 A marquis, duke, and a ? that, 
 But an honest man's aboon his might, 
 
 Gude faith, he mauna fa' that ! 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their dignities, and a' that, 
 The pith o' sense and pride o' worth 
 
 Are higher rank than a' that. 
 
 Then let us pray that come it may — 
 
 As come it will for a' that — 
 That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 
 
 Shall bear the gree, and a' that ; 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 It's comin' yet for a ? that, 
 That man to man, the world o'er, 
 
 Shall brothers be for a' that ! 
 
 Burns. 
 
72 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 40 
 
 The rich man's son inherits lands. 
 And piles of brick, and stone, and gold, 
 And he inherits soft white hands, 
 And tender flesh that fears the cold, 
 Nor dares to wear a garment old; 
 A heritage, it seems to me, 
 One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 
 
 The rich man's son inherits cares : 
 
 The bank may break, the factory burn, 
 
 A breath may burst his bubble shares, 
 And soft white hands could hardly earn 
 A living that would serve his turn ; 
 
 A heritage, it seems to me, 
 
 One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 
 
 What doth the poor man's son inherit? 
 
 Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, 
 A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; 
 
 King of two hands, he does his part 
 
 In every useful toil and art ; 
 A heritage, it seems to me, 
 A kin£ mi^ht wish to hold in fee. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 73 
 
 What doth the poor man's son inherit ? 
 A patience learned of being poor, 
 
 Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it, 
 A fellow-feeling that is sure 
 To make the outcast bless his door 5 
 
 A heritage, it seems to me, 
 
 A king might wish to hold in fee. 
 
 O rich man's son ! there is a toil 
 That with all others level stands : 
 
 Large charity doth never soil, 
 
 But only whiten, soft white hands, — 
 This is the best crop from thy lands ; 
 
 A heritage, it seems to me, 
 
 Worth being rich to hold in fee. 
 
 O poor man's son ! scorn not thy state ; 
 There is worse weariness than thine, 
 
 In merely being rich and great; 
 Toil only gives the soul to shine, 
 And makes rest fragrant and benign ; 
 
 A heritage, it seems to me, 
 
 Worth being poor to hold in fee. 
 
 Lowell (The Heritage). 
 
7-i BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 41 
 
 "m /ty fairest child, I have no song to give you ; 
 -LtJL No lark could pipe to skies so dull and 
 
 gray: 
 Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you 
 For every day. 
 
 Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; 
 Do noble things, not dream them, all day long; 
 And so make Life, Death, and that vast Forever 
 One grand, sweet song. 
 
 Kjngsley (A Farewell). 
 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 75 
 
 42 
 
 Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn ? 
 Where may the grave of that good man 
 be? — 
 By the side of a spring, on the breast of Hel- 
 
 vellyn, 
 Under the twigs of a young birch tree ! 
 The oak that in summer was sweet to hear, 
 And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year, 
 And whistled and roared in the winter alone, 
 Is gone, — and the birch in its stead is grown. — 
 The Knight's bones are dust, 
 And his good sword rust : — 
 His soul is with the saints, I trust. 
 
 Coleridge (The EnigMs Tomb). 
 
76 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 43 
 
 How seldom, Friend! a good great man 
 inherits 
 Honor or wealth, with all his worth and pains! 
 It sounds like stories from the land of spirits 
 If any man obtain that which he merits, 
 Or any merit that which he obtains. 
 
 For shame, dear Friend ! renounce this canting 
 
 strain ! 
 What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain? 
 Place — titles — salary — a gilded chain — 
 Or throne of corses which his sword hath 
 
 slain ? — 
 Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends ! 
 Hath he not always treasures, always friends, 
 The good great man ? — three treasures, love and 
 
 light, 
 And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath ; — 
 And three firm friends, more sure than day 
 
 and night — 
 Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death. 
 
 Coleridge (Complaint, and Reproof). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 77 
 
 44 
 
 IT is not growing like a tree 
 In bulk, doth make Man better be 5 
 Or standing long an oak, tliree hundred year, 
 To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : 
 A lily of a day 
 Is fairer far in May, 
 Although it fall and die that night — 
 It was the plant and flower of Light. 
 In small proportions we just beauties see; 
 And in short measures life may perfect be. 
 
 Ben Jonson. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 45 
 
 A wearied pilgrim I have wandered here 
 Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one 
 year; 
 Long I have lasted in this world, 'tis true, 
 But yet those years that I have lived, but few. 
 "Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell, 
 Lives not those years, but he that lives them 
 
 well: 
 One man has reached his sixty years, but he 
 Of all those three-score has not lived half three : 
 He lives who lives to virtue ; men who cast 
 Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last. 
 
 Herrick. 
 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 79 
 
 46 
 
 Iife is real ! Life is earnest ! 
 J And the grave is not its goal; 
 Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 
 Was not spoken of the soul. 
 
 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 
 
 Is our destined end or way, 
 But to act, that each to-morrow 
 
 Find us farther than to-day. 
 
 Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 
 And our hearts, though stout and brave, 
 
 Still, like muffled drums, are beating 
 Funeral marches to the grave. 
 
 In the world's broad field of battle, 
 
 In the bivouac of Life, 
 Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 
 
 Be a hero in the strife ! 
 
 Trust no Future, however pleasant! 
 
 Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
 Act, — act in the living Present! 
 
 Heart within, and God overhead ! 
 
80 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Lives of great men all remind us 
 We can make onr lives sublime, 
 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 
 Footprints on the sands of Time, — 
 
 Footprints that perhaps another, 
 Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
 
 A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
 Seeing, shall take heart again. 
 
 Let us, then, be up and doing, 
 
 With a heart for any fate; 
 Still achieving, still pursuing, 
 
 Learn to labor and to wait. 
 
 Longfellow (A Psalm of Life). 
 
 47 
 
 IT fortifies my soul to know 
 That, though I perish, Truth is so : 
 That, howsoe'er I stray and range, 
 Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change : 
 I steadier step when I recall 
 That, if I slip, Thou dost not fall. 
 
 Clough. 
 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 81 
 
 48 
 
 Iife! I know not what thou art, 
 J But know that thou and I must part ; 
 And when, or how, or where we met 
 I own to me ? s a secret yet. 
 
 Life ! we've been long together 
 Through pleasant and through cloudy weather 5 
 ; Tis hard to part when friends are dear, — 
 Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; 
 Then steal away, give little warning, 
 
 Choose thine own time ; 
 Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter 
 clime 
 
 Bid me Good Morning. 
 
 Barbauld (Life and Death). 
 
82 BEDSIDE POETKT. 
 
 49 
 
 Fear no more the heat o ? the sun 
 Nor the furious winter's rages ; 
 Thou thy worldly task hast done, 
 
 Home art gone and ta'en thy wages : 
 Golden lads and girls all must. 
 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 
 
 Fear no more the frown o ? the great, 
 Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; 
 
 Care no more to clothe and eat; 
 To thee the reed is as the oak: 
 
 The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
 
 All follow this, and come to dust. 
 
 Fear no more the lightning flash 
 Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 
 
 Fear not slander, censure rash; 
 Thou hast finished joy and moan : 
 
 All lovers young, all lovers must 
 
 Consign to thee, and come to dust. 
 
 Shakspere (Cymleline). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 83 
 
 W 
 
 50 
 
 "E are all here ! 
 Father, mother, 
 Sister, brother, 
 All who hold each other dear. 
 Each chair is filled — we're all at home; 
 To-night let no cold stranger come; 
 It is not often thtis around 
 Our old familiar hearth we're found. 
 Bless, then, the meeting and the spot; 
 For once be every care forgot; 
 Let gentle Peace assert her power, 
 And kind Affection rule the hour; 
 We're all — all here. 
 
 "We're not all here ! 
 Some are away — the dead ones dear, 
 Who thronged with us this ancient hearth, 
 And gave the hour to guiltless mirth. 
 Fate, with a stern, relentless hand, 
 Looked in and thinned our little band ; 
 
84 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Some like a night-flash, passed away, 
 And some sank, lingering, day by day ; 
 The quiet graveyard — some lie there — 
 And cruel Ocean has his share — 
 We're not all here. 
 
 We are all here ! 
 Even they — the dead — though dead, so dear. 
 Fond Memory, to her duty true, 
 Brings back their faded forms to view. 
 How life-like, through the mist of years, 
 Each well-remembered face appears! 
 "We see them as in times long past; 
 From each to each kind looks are cast ; 
 We hear their words, their smiles behold, 
 They're round us as they were of old — 
 
 We are all here. 
 
 Sprague (The Family Meeting). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 85 
 
 51 
 
 I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty,- 
 I woke, and found that life was Duty. 
 Was my dream, then, a shadowy lie? 
 Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly ; 
 And thou shalt find thy dream to be 
 A truth and noonday light to thee. 
 
 Hooper (Life a Duty). 
 
86 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 52 
 
 Yea, let all good things await 
 Him who cares not to be great 
 But as he saves or serves the state. 
 Not once or twice, in our rough island-story, 
 The path of Duty was the way to glory: 
 He that walks it, only thirsting 
 For the right, and learns to deaden 
 Love of self, before his journey closes 
 He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting 
 Into glossy purples, which outredden 
 All voluptuous garden-roses. 
 Not once or twice, in our fair island-story, 
 The path of Duty was the way to glory: 
 He that, ever following her commands, 
 On with toil of heart and knees and hands, 
 Through the long gorge to the far light has won 
 His path upward, and prevailed, 
 Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled 
 Are close upon the shining table-lands 
 To which our God himself is moon and sun. 
 Tennyson (Wellington J. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 87 
 
 53 
 
 Life may be given in many ways, 
 J And loyalty to Truth be sealed 
 As bravely in the closet as the field, 
 So bountiful is Fate; 
 But then to stand beside her 
 When craven churls deride her, 
 To front a lie in arms and not to yield — 
 This shows, methinks, God's plan 
 And measure of a stalwart man, 
 Limbed like the old heroic breeds, 
 "Who stands self -poised on manhood's solid earth, 
 Not forced to frame excuses for his birth, 
 Fed from within with all the strength he needs. 
 Lowell (Commemoration Ode J. 
 
88 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 54 
 
 Earth cannot show so brave a sight 
 As when a single soul does fence 
 The battery of alluring sense ; 
 And Heaven views it with delight. 
 
 Then persevere; for still new charges sound, 
 And if thou overcom'st thou shalt be crowned. 
 Marvell (Dialogue between the Resolved Soul and 
 Created Pleasure). 
 
 55 
 
 Men! whose boast it is that ye 
 Come of fathers brave and free, 
 If there breathe on earth a slave, 
 Are ye truly free and brave? 
 If ye do not feel the chain 
 When it works a brother's pain, 
 Are ye not base slaves indeed, 
 Slaves unworthy to be freed? 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 89 
 
 Is true Freedom but to break 
 Fetters for our own dear sake, 
 And, with leathern hearts, forget 
 That we owe mankind a debt? 
 No ! true freedom is to share 
 All the chains our brothers wear, 
 And, with heart and hand, to be 
 Earnest to make others free ! 
 
 They are slaves who fear to speak 
 
 For the fallen and the weak; 
 
 They are slaves who will not choose 
 
 Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, 
 
 Eather than in silence shrink 
 
 From the truth they needs must think; 
 
 They are slaves who dare not be 
 
 In the right with two or three. 
 
 Lowell (Stanzas on Freedom). 
 
90 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 56 
 
 The timid it concerns to ask their way, 
 And fear what foe in caves and swamps 
 can stray; 
 To make no step until the event is known; 
 And ills to come, as evils past, bemoan. 
 Not so the Wise. No coward watch he keeps 
 To spy what danger on his pathway creeps. 
 Go where he will, the wise man is at home — 
 His hearth, the earth ; his hall, the azure dome. 
 Where his clear spirit leads him, there his road, 
 By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. 
 Emerson (On Henry ThoreauJ. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 91 
 
 57 
 
 Owell for him whose will is strong! 
 He suffers, but he will not suffer long 5 
 He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong 5 
 For him nor moves the loud world's random mock, 
 Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, 
 Who seems a promontory of rock, 
 That, compassed round with turbulent sound, 
 In middle ocean meets the surging shock, 
 Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crowned. 
 
 Tennyson (Will J. 
 
92 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 58 
 
 HOW happy is he born and taught 
 That serveth not another's will; 
 Whose armor is his honest thought, 
 And simple truth his utmost skill ! 
 
 Whose passions not his masters are; 
 Whose soul is still prepared for death, 
 Untied unto the world by care 
 Of public fame or private breath ; 
 
 Who envies none that chance doth raise, 
 Nor vice; hath never understood 
 How deepest wounds are given by praise,- 
 Nor rules of state, but rules of good ; 
 
 Who hath his life from rumors freed; 
 Whose conscience is his strong retreat; 
 ^ Whose state can neither flatterers feed, 
 Nor ruin make oppressors great; 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 93 
 
 Who God doth late and early pray 
 More of his grace than gifts to lend; 
 And entertains the harmless day 
 With a religious book or friend! 
 
 This man is freed from servile bands 
 Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; 
 Lord of himself, though not of lands ; 
 And, having nothing, yet hath all. 
 
 Wotton (Character of a Happy Life). 
 
94 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 59 
 
 TURN, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the 
 proud ; 
 Turn thy wild wheel through sunshine, storm, 
 
 and cloud; 
 Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 
 
 Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown; 
 With that wild wheel we go not up or down; 
 Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. 
 
 Smile, and we smile, the lords of many lands ; 
 Frown, and we smile, the lords of our own hands ; 
 For man is man and master of his fate. 
 
 Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ; 
 Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud; 
 Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 
 
 Tennyson (Enid). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 95 
 
 60 
 
 Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said, 
 That of our vices we can frame 
 A ladder, if we will but tread 
 
 Beneath our feet each deed of shame! 
 
 All common things, each day's events 
 That with the hour begin and end, 
 
 Our pleasures and our discontents, 
 Are rounds by which we may ascend. 
 
 The longing for ignoble things; 
 
 The strife for triumph more than truth; 
 The hardening of the heart, that brings 
 
 Irreverence for the dreams of youth; 
 
 All thoughts of ill ; all evil deeds 
 
 That have their root in thoughts of ill; 
 
 Whatever hinders or impedes 
 The action of the nobler will; — 
 
96 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 All these must first be trampled down 
 Beneath, our feet, if we would gain 
 
 In the bright fields of fair renown 
 The right of eminent domain. 
 
 We have not wings, we cannot soar; 
 
 But we have feet to scale and climb 
 By slow degrees, by more and more, 
 
 The cloudy summits of our time. 
 
 The mighty pyramids of stone 
 
 That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 
 
 When nearer seen, and better known, 
 Are but gigantic flights of stairs. 
 
 The distant mountains that uprear 
 Their solid bastions to the skies, 
 
 Are crossed by pathways, that appear 
 
 As we to higher levels rise. 
 Longfellow (The Ladder of St Augustine J. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 97 
 
 61 
 
 tttho is the honest man? 
 
 f V He that doth still and strongly good 
 pursue, 
 To God, his neighbor, and himself most true : 
 
 Whom neither force nor fawning can 
 Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due. 
 
 Whose honesty is not 
 So loose or easy that a ruffling wind 
 Can blow away, or glittering look it blind : 
 
 Who rides his sure and even trot, 
 While the world now rides by, now lags behind. 
 
 Who, when great trials come, 
 Nor seeks nor shuns them; but doth calmly 
 
 stay, 
 Till he the thing and the example weigh : 
 
 All being brought into a sum, 
 What place or person calls for, he doth pay. 
 9 
 
98 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Whom none can work or woo 
 To use in anything a trick or sleight ; 
 For above all things he abhors deceit: 
 
 His words and works and fashion too 
 All of a piece, and all are clear and straight. 
 
 "Who never melts or thaws 
 At close temptations : when the day is done, 
 His goodness sets not, but in dark can run: 
 
 The sun to others writeth laws, 
 And is their virtue; Virtue is his Sun. 
 
 Whom nothing can procure, 
 When the wide world runs bias, from his will 
 To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend, the ill. 
 
 This is the Mark-man safe and sure, 
 Who still is right, and prays to be so still. 
 George Herbert (Constancy). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 99 
 
 62 
 
 I IE not; but let thy heart be true to God, 
 A Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : 
 Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; 
 The stormy- working soul spits lies and froth. 
 Dare to be true. Nothing can need a lie : 
 A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby. 
 G-eorge Herbert (The Church Porch). 
 
 63 
 
 BUT if thou do thy best, 
 Without remission, without rest, 
 And invite the sunbeam, 
 And abhor to feign or seem 
 Even to those who thee should love 
 And thy behavior approve ; 
 If thou go in thine own likeness, — 
 Be it health or be it sickness, — 
 If thou go as thy father's son, 
 If thou wear no mask or lie, 
 Dealing purely and nakedly, — . . . 
 
 Emerson. 
 
100 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 64 
 
 Gently I took that which ungently came, 
 And without scorn forgave. — Do thou the 
 
 same. 
 A wrong done to thee think a cat ? s-eye spark 
 Thou wouldst not see, were not thine own 
 
 heart dark. 
 Thine own keen sense of wrong that thirsts for 
 
 sin, 
 Fear that — the spark self-kindled from within, 
 "Which blown upon will blind thee with its glare, 
 Or smothered stifle thee with noisome air. 
 Clap on the extinguisher, pull up the blinds, 
 And soon the ventilated spirit finds 
 Its natural daylight. If a foe have kenned, 
 Or worse than foe, an alienated friend, 
 A rib of dry rot in thy ship's stout side, 
 Think it God ? s message, and in humble pride 
 With heart of oak replace it; — thine the gains — 
 Give him the rotten timber for his pains! 
 
 Coleridge (" Beareth all things "J. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 101 
 
 65 
 
 A re there not, then, two musics unto men? — 
 jl\. One loud and bold and coarse, 
 And overpowering still perforce 
 
 All tone and tune beside; 
 
 Yet, in despite its pride, 
 Only of fumes of foolish, fancy bred, 
 And sounding solely in the sounding head: 
 
 The other soft and low, 
 
 Stealing whence we not know, 
 Painfully heard, and easily forgot, 
 With pauses oft and many a silence strange, 
 (And silent oft it seems when silent it is not,) 
 Revivals, too, of unexpected change: 
 Haply thou think'st 'twill never be begun, 
 Or that 7 t has come, and been, and passed away ; 
 
 Yet turn to other none, — 
 
 Turn not, O, turn not thou ! 
 But listen, listen, listen, — if haply be heard it 
 
 may; 
 Listen, listen, listen, — is it not sounding now? 
 
102 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Yea, and as thought of some beloved friend 
 By death or distance parted will descend, 
 Severing, in crowded rooms ablaze with light, 
 As by a magic screen, the seer from the sight, 
 (Palsying the nerves that intervene 
 The eye and central sense between,) 
 
 So may the ear, 
 
 Hearing, not hear, 
 Though drums do roll, and pipes and cymbals 
 
 ring; 
 So the bare conscience of the better thing 
 Unfelt, unseen, unimaged, all unknown, 
 May fix the entranced soul 'mid multitudes 
 alone. 
 
 Clough. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. lOo 
 
 66 
 
 This is the ship of pearl which, poets feign, 
 Sails the unshadowed main, — 
 The venturous bark that flings 
 On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 
 In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, 
 
 And coral reefs lie bare, 
 Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their 
 streaming hair. 
 
 Tear after year beheld the silent toil 
 
 That spread his lustrous coil 5 
 
 Still, as the spiral grew, 
 He left the past year's dwelling for the new, 
 Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 
 
 Built up its idle door, 
 Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the 
 old no more. 
 
 Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 
 As the swift seasons roll! 
 Leave thy low-vaulted past! 
 
104 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
 Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 
 
 Till thou at length art free, 
 Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting 
 sea! 
 
 Holmes (The Chambered Nautilus). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 105 
 
 67 
 
 ?npis common sense, and human wit 
 JL Can claim no higher name than it. 
 Submit, submit! 
 
 For tell me, then, in earth's great laws 
 Have you found any saving clause? 
 Exemption special granted you 
 From doing what the rest must do? 
 Of common sense who made you quit, 
 And told you you'd no need of it? 
 Nor to submit? 
 
 This stern necessity of things 
 On every side our being rings; 
 Our eager aims, still questing round, 
 Find exit none from that great bound. 
 Where once her law dictates the way, 
 The wise thinks only to obey, 
 Take life as she has ordered it, 
 And, come what may of it, submit, 
 Submit, submit! 
 
106 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Who take implicitly her will, 
 For these her vassal chances still 
 Bring store of joys, successes, pleasures; 
 But whoso ponders, weighs, and measures, 
 She calls her torturers up to goad 
 With spur and scourges on the road. 
 O, lest you yield not timely, ere 
 Her lips that mandate pass, beware ! 
 Beware, beware ! 
 
 ? Tis common sense ! and human wit 
 Can claim no higher name than it. 
 Submit, submit! 
 
 Necessity! And who shall dare 
 Bring to her feet excuse or prayer? 
 Beware, beware! 
 
 We must, we must: 
 
 Howe'er we turn, and pause, and tremble, 
 
 Howe'er we shrink, deceive, dissemble, 
 
 Whatever our doubting, grief, disgust, 
 
 The hand is on us, and we must; 
 
 We must, we must. 
 
 ? Tis common sense, and human wit 
 
 Can And no better name than it. 
 
 Submit, submit! 
 
 Clough. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 107 
 
 68 
 
 RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
 The flying cloud, the frosty light : 
 The year is dying in the night; 
 Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 
 
 Ring out the old, ring in the new, 
 Ring, happy bells, across the snow: 
 The year is going, let him go; 
 
 Ring out the false, ring in the true. 
 
 Ring out the grief, that saps the mind, 
 For those that here we see no more; 
 Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 
 
 Ring in redress to all mankind. 
 
 Ring out a slowly dying cause 
 And ancient forms of party strife; 
 Ring in the nobler modes of life, 
 
 "With sweeter manners, purer laws. 
 
108 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Ring out the want, the care, the sin, 
 
 The faithless coldness of the times ; 
 Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, 
 But ring the fuller minstrel in. 
 
 Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
 The civic slander and the spite; 
 Ring in the love of truth and right, 
 
 Ring in the common love of good. 
 
 Ring out old shapes of foul disease; 
 
 Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; 
 
 Ring out the thousand wars of old, 
 Ring in the thousand years of peace. 
 
 Ring in the valiant man and free, 
 The larger heart, the kindlier hand; 
 Ring out the darkness of the land, 
 
 Ring in the Christ that is to be. 
 
 Tennyson (In 2Iemoriam). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 109 
 
 69 
 
 Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books, 
 Or surely you'll grow double: 
 Up ! up ! my Friend, and clear your looks ; 
 Why all this toil and trouble? 
 
 The sun, above the mountain's head, 
 
 A freshening lustre mellow 
 
 Through all the long green fields has spread, 
 
 His first sweet evening yellow. 
 
 Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife: 
 Come, hear the woodland Linnet, 
 How sweet his music ! on my life, 
 There's more of wisdom in it. 
 
 And hark! how blithe the Throstle sings! 
 He, too, is no mean preacher: 
 Come forth into the light of things, 
 Let Nature be your teacher, 
 10 
 
110 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 One impulse from a vernal wood 
 May teach you more of man, 
 Of moral evil and of good, 
 Than all the sages can. 
 
 Enough of Science and of Art,- 
 
 Close up these barren leaves ,- 
 
 Come forth, and bring with you a heart 
 
 That watches and receives. 
 
 Wordsworth (The Tables Turned). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. Ill 
 
 70 
 
 Under the greenwood tree 
 Who loves to lie with me, 
 And tune his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird's throat — 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither! 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Who doth ambition shun, 
 And loves to live i ? the sun, 
 Seeking the food he eats, 
 And pleased with what he gets, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither! 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Shakspere (As You Like It). 
 
112 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 71 
 
 "N May, when sea- winds pierced our solitudes, 
 I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, 
 Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, 
 To please the desert and the sluggish brook. 
 The purple petals, fallen in the pool, 
 Made the black water with their beauty gay; 
 Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, 
 And court the flower that cheapens his array. 
 Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why 
 This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, 
 Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, 
 Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: 
 Why thou wert there, rival of the rose ! 
 I never thought to ask, I never knew; 
 But, in my simple ignorance, suppose 
 The self -same Power that brought me there 
 brought you. 
 
 Emerson (The Rhodora). 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 113 
 
 72 
 
 "AST thou named all the birds without a gun? 
 Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its 
 stalk? 
 At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulsed 
 Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? 
 And loved so well a high behavior, 
 In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, 
 Nobility more nobly to repay? 
 O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine ! 
 Emerson (Forbearance J. 
 
 10* 
 
114 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 73 
 
 ~m JjTY heart leaps up when I behold 
 -LT-L A Rainbow in the sky : 
 So was it when my life began, 
 So is it now I am a Man; 
 So be it when I shall grow old, 
 
 Or let me die! 
 The Child is Father of the Man ; 
 And I could wish my days to be 
 Bound each to each by natural piety. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 74 
 
 THOU canst not wave thy staff in air, 
 Or dip thy paddle in the lake, 
 But it carves the bow of beauty there, 
 And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. 
 Emerson ( WoodnotesJ. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 115 
 
 75 
 
 When the enemy is near thee, 
 Call on us ! 
 In our hands we will upbear thee, 
 He shall neither scathe nor scare thee, 
 He shall fly thee and shall fear thee. 
 Call on us ! 
 
 Call when all good friends have left thee, 
 Of all good sights and sounds bereft thee, 
 Call when hope and heart are sinking, 
 "When the brain is sick with thinking, 
 
 Help, O help ! 
 Call, and, following close behind thee, 
 There shall haste and there shall find thee 
 
 Help, sure help. 
 
 When the panic comes upon thee, 
 When necessity seems on thee, 
 Hope and choice have all foregone thee, 
 Fate and force are closing o'er thee, 
 And but one way stands before thee, 
 Call on us ! 
 
116 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 0, and if thou dost not call, 
 Be but faithful, that is all! 
 Go right on, and close behind thee 
 There shall follow still, and find thee, 
 Help, sure help. 
 
 Clough. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 117 
 
 76 
 
 Say not, the struggle naught availeth, 
 The labor and the wounds are vain, 
 The enemy faints not, nor faileth, 
 And as things have been they remain. 
 
 If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; 
 
 It may be, in yon smoke concealed, 
 Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, 
 
 And, but for you, possess the field. 
 
 For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, 
 Seem here no painful inch to gain, 
 
 Far back, through creeks and inlets making, 
 Comes silent, flooding in, the main. 
 
 And not by eastern windows only, 
 
 When daylight comes, comes in the light; 
 
 In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly ! 
 But westward; look, the land is bright. 
 
 Clough. 
 
118 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 77 
 
 TTT^T voice did on my spirit fall, 
 
 t V Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost \ 
 " ? Tis better to have fought and lost 
 Than never to have fought at all." 
 
 The tricolor — a trampled rag — 
 Lies dirt and dust; the lines I track 
 By sentries' boxes, yellow, black, 
 Lead up to no Italian flag. 
 
 I see the Croat soldier stand 
 Upon the grass of your redoubts; 
 The eagle with his black wing flouts 
 The breadth and beauty of your land. 
 
 Tet not in vain, although in vain, 
 O men of Brescia ! on the day 
 Of loss past hope, I heard you say 
 Your welcome to the noble pain. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 119 
 
 You said: "Since so it is, good-bye, 
 Sweet life, high hope; but whatsoe'er 
 May be, or must, no tongue shall dare 
 To tell, i The Lombard feared to die ! ' " 
 
 You said (there shall be answer fit) : 
 "And if our children must obey, 
 They must; but, thinking on this day, 
 'Twill less debase them to submit." 
 
 You said (0 not in vain you said) : 
 "Haste, brothers, haste, while yet we may; 
 The hours ebb fast of this one day, 
 While blood may yet be nobly shed. 77 
 
 Ah! not for idle hatred, not 
 For honor, fame, nor self-applause, 
 But for the glory of the cause, 
 You did what will not be forgot. 
 
 And though the stranger stand, 'tis true, 
 By force and fortune's right he stands : 
 By fortune, which is in God's hands, 
 And strength, which yet shall spring in you. 
 
120 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 This voice did on my spirit fall, 
 Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost: 
 " 7 Tis better to have fought and lost 
 Than never to have fought at all." 
 
 Or shall I say : " Vain word, false thought, 
 Since Prudence hath her martyrs too, 
 And "Wisdom dictates not to do 
 Till doing shall be not for naught? 
 
 " Not ours to give or lose is life : 
 Will Nature, when her brave ones fall, 
 Kemake her work? or songs recall 
 Death's victim slain in useless strife?" 
 
 That rivers flow into the sea 
 
 Is loss and waste, the foolish say, 
 
 Nor know that back they find their way, 
 
 Unseen, to where they wont to be. 
 
 Showers fall upon the hills, springs flow, 
 The river runneth still at hand, 
 Brave men are born into the land, 
 And whence, the foolish do not know. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 121 
 
 No ! no vain voice did on me f all, 
 Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost: 
 UJ Tis better to have fought and lost 
 Than never to have fought at all." 
 
 Clough (PeschieraJ. 
 
122 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 W 
 
 78 
 
 hen a deed is done for Freedom, through 
 the broad earth's aching breast 
 Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from 
 
 east to west, 
 And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul 
 
 within him climb 
 To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy 
 
 sublime 
 Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the stormy 
 
 stem of Time. 
 
 For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct 
 
 bears along, 
 Sound the earth's electric circle, the swift flash 
 
 of right or wrong; 
 Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Humanity's 
 
 vast frame 
 Through its ocean-sundered fibres feels the gush 
 
 of joy or shame: — 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 123 
 
 In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have 
 equal claim. 
 
 Once to every man and nation comes the moment 
 to decide, 
 
 In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the 
 good or evil side; 
 
 Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering 
 each the bloom or blight, 
 
 Parts the goats upon the left hand and the sheep 
 upon the right, 
 
 And the choice goes by forever ? twixt that dark- 
 ness and that light. 
 
 Careless seems the great Avenger ; history's pages 
 
 but record 
 One death-grapple in the darkness ? twixt old 
 
 systems and the Word; 
 Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on 
 
 the throne, — 
 Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind 
 
 the dim unknown, 
 Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch 
 
 above his own. 
 
124 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 We see dimly in the Present what is small and 
 
 what is great, 
 Slow of faith, how weak an arm may turn the 
 
 iron helm of fate. 
 But the soul is still oracular : amid the market's 
 
 din, 
 List the ominous stern whisper from the Delphic 
 
 cave within : 
 " They enslave their children's children who make 
 
 compromise with sin." 
 
 Then to side with Truth is noble when we share 
 her wretched crust, 
 
 Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 'tis pros- 
 perous to be just ) 
 
 Then it is the brave man chooses, while the 
 coward stands aside, 
 
 Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is 
 crucified 
 
 And the multitude make virtue of the faith they 
 had denied. 
 
 New occasions teach new duties; Time makes 
 ancient good uncouth : 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 125 
 
 They must upward still, and onward, who would 
 
 keep abreast of Truth. 
 Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves 
 
 must Pilgrims be, 
 Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through 
 
 the desperate winter sea, 
 Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's 
 
 blood-rusted key. 
 
 Lowell (The Present Crisis). 
 
 11* 
 
126 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 79 
 
 The breaking waves dashed high 
 On a stern and rock-bound coast, 
 And the woods against a stormy sky 
 Their giant branches tost 5 
 
 And the heavy night hung dark 
 
 The hills and waters o'er, 
 When a band of exiles moored their bark 
 
 On the wild New England shore. 
 
 Not as the conqueror comes, 
 
 They, the true-hearted, came : 
 Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 
 
 And the trumpet that sings of fame; 
 
 Not as the flying come, 
 
 In silence and in fear: 
 They shook the depths of the desert gloom 
 
 With their hymns of lofty cheer. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 127 
 
 Amidst the storm they sang, 
 
 And the stars heard, and the sea! 
 
 And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
 To the anthem of the free! 
 
 The ocean-eagle soared 
 
 From his nest by the white waves' foam, 
 And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — 
 
 This was their welcome home! 
 
 There were men with hoary hair 
 
 Amidst that pilgrim band; — 
 Why had they come to wither there 
 
 Away from their childhood's land? 
 
 There was woman's fearless eye, 
 
 Lit by her deep love's truth; 
 There was manhood's brow, serenely high, 
 
 And the fiery heart of youth. 
 
 What sought they thus afar? 
 
 Bright jewels of the mine? 
 The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — 
 
 They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 
 
128 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 Ay, call it holy ground, 
 
 The soil where first they trod: 
 They have left unstained what there they found — 
 
 Freedom to worship God. 
 Hemans (The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers J. 
 
 H 
 
 80 
 
 "ail to Posterity! 
 Hail, future men of Germanopolis ! 
 Let the young generations yet to be 
 Look kindly upon this. 
 Think how your fathers left their native land, — 
 Dear German-land, ! sacred hearths and 
 
 homes ! — 
 And, where the wild beast roams, 
 
 In patience planned 
 New forest-homes beyond the mighty sea, 
 
 There, undisturbed and free, 
 To live as brothers of one family. 
 What pains and cares befell, 
 
 What trials and what fears, 
 Remember, and wherein we have done well 
 Follow our footsteps, men of coming years! 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 129 
 
 Where we have failed to do 
 Aright, or wisely live, 
 Be warned by us, the better way pursue, 
 And, knowing we were human, even as you, 
 Pity us and forgive! 
 Farewell, Posterity! 
 Farewell, dear Germany! 
 Forevermore farewell! 
 Pastorius, translated by "Whittier (Pennsylvania 
 Pilgrim). 
 
130 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 81 
 
 Where is the true man's fatherland? 
 Is it where he by chance is born? 
 Doth not the yearning spirit scorn 
 In such scant borders to be spanned? 
 O yes ! his fatherland must be 
 As the blue heaven wide and free ! 
 
 Is it alone where freedom is, 
 
 Where God is God and man is man? 
 
 Doth he not claim a broader span 
 For the soul's love of home than this? 
 O yes ! his fatherland must be 
 As the blue heaven wide and free ! 
 
 Where'er a human heart doth wear 
 Joy's myrtle-wreath or sorrow's gyves, 
 Where'er a human spirit strives 
 After a life more true and fair, 
 There is the true man's birthplace grand, 
 His is a world-wide fatherland ! 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 131 
 
 Where'er a single slave doth, pine. 
 Where'er one man may help another, — 
 Thank God for such a birthright, brother, — 
 
 That spot of earth is thine and mine ! 
 
 There is the true man's birthplace grand, 
 
 His is a world-wide fatherland ! 
 
 Lowell (The Fatherland J. 
 
132 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 82 
 
 IN an age of fops and toys, 
 Wanting wisdom, void of right, 
 Who shall move heroic boys 
 
 To hazard all in Freedom's fight, — 
 Break sharply off their jolly games, 
 
 Forsake their comrades gay, 
 And quit proud homes and youthful dames 
 
 For famine, toil, and fray? 
 Yet on the nimble air benign 
 
 Speed nimbler messages, 
 That waft the breath of grace divine 
 
 To hearts in sloth and ease. 
 So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 
 
 So near is God to man, 
 "When Duty whispers low, Tliou must, 
 
 The youth replies, I can. 
 
 Emerson (Voluntaries J. 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 133 
 
 83 
 
 BY the rude bridge that arched the flood, 
 Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, 
 Here once the embattled farmers stood, 
 And fired the shot heard round the world. 
 
 The foe long since in silence slept; 
 
 Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ; 
 And Time the ruined bridge has swept 
 
 Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 
 
 On this green bank, by this soft stream, 
 
 We set to-day a votive stone, 
 That memory may their deed redeem 
 
 When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 
 
 Spirit, that made those heroes dare 
 To die, or leave their children free, 
 
 Bid Time and Nature gently spare 
 The shaft we raise to them and Thee. 
 
 Emerson f Concord Monument). 
 
 12 
 
134 BEDSIDE POETRY. 
 
 84 
 
 " CI HE ^ as gone down ! " They shout it from 
 
 O afar, 
 Kings, Nobles, Priests — all men, of every race, 
 Whose lagging clogs Time's swift relentless pace : 
 "She has gone down, our evil-boding star! — 
 Rebellion smitten with Rebellion's sword, 
 Anarchy done to death by slavery, 
 Of Ancient Right insolent enemy — 
 Beneath a hideous cloud of civil war, 
 Strife such as heathen slaughterers had abhorred. 
 The lawless land where no man was called lord, 
 Spurning all wholesome curb, and dreaming free 
 Her rabble rule's licentious tyranny, 
 In the fierce splendor of her arrogant morn, 
 She has gone down — the world's eternal scorn!" 
 
 She has gone down ! Woe for the world and all 
 The weary workers gazing from afar 
 At the clear rising of that hopeful star — 
 Star of redemption to each weeping thrall 
 Of Power decrepit, and of rule outworn ; 
 
BEDSIDE POETRY. 135 
 
 Beautiful shining of that blessed morn 
 Which was to bring leave for the poor to live, 
 To work and rest, to labor and to thrive. 
 And righteous room for all who nobly strive. 
 She has gone down I Woe for the panting world 
 Back on its path of progress sternly hurled! 
 Land of sufficient harvests for all dearth, 
 Home of far-seeing hope, Time's latest birth, 
 Woe for the promised land of the whole earth ! 
 
 Triumph not, fools, and weep not, ye faint- 
 hearted ! 
 Have ye believed that the supreme decree 
 Of Heaven had given this people o'er to perish? 
 Have ye believed that G-od had ceased to cherish 
 This great New World of Christian liberty? 
 And its fair light forever had departed? 
 Nay — by the precious blood shed to redeem 
 The nation from its selfishness and sin, 
 By each brave heart that burst in holy strife, 
 Leaving its kindred hearts to break through life ; 
 By all the bitter tears whose source must stream 
 Forever every desolate home within, 
 We will return to our appointed place, 
 First in the vanguard of the human race. 
 
 Kemble ( Bonnets on the American War). 
 
OMEGA. 
 
 It is time to be old, 
 To take in sail : — 
 The god of bounds, 
 Who sets to seas a shore. 
 Came to me in his fatal rounds, 
 And said : " No more I 
 No farther shoot 
 
 Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. 
 Fancy departs; no more invent; 
 Contract thy firmament 
 To compass of a tent. 
 There's not enough for this and that, 
 Make thy option which of two ; 
 Economize the failing river, 
 None the less revere the Giver, 
 Leave the many and hold the few, 
 Timely wise accept the terms, 
 Soften the fall with wary foot ; 
 A little while 
 Still plan and smile, 
 And, — fault of novel germs, — 
 Mature the unfallen fruit. 
 136 
 
OMEGA, 137 
 
 Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, 
 
 Bad husbands of their fires, 
 
 Who, when they gave thee breath, 
 
 Failed to bequeath 
 
 The needful sinew stark as once, 
 
 The Baresark marrow to thy bones, 
 
 But left a legacy of ebbing veins, 
 
 Inconstant heat and nerveless reins, — 
 
 Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, 
 
 Amid the gladiators, halt and numb." 
 
 As the bird trims her to the gale, 
 
 I trim myself to the storm of time, 
 
 I man the rudder, reef the sail, 
 
 Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: 
 
 u Lowly faithful, banish fear, 
 
 Right onward drive unharmed; 
 
 The port, well worth the cruise, is near, 
 
 And every wave is charmed." 
 
 Emerson (Terminus), 
 
 12* 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 OF CERTAIN SCOTTICISMS. 
 
 a\ all. 
 
 aboon, above. 
 birlie, conceited fellow. 
 ctfd, called. 
 coof, ninny. 
 fa\ try. 
 gie, give. 
 gowd, gold. 
 
 gree, to bear tlie, to be victo- 
 rious. 
 
 glide, good. 
 liamely, homely. 
 liodden-gray, coarse woollen 
 
 cloth. 
 mal:, make. 
 ma una, must not. 
 
 sae, so. 
 
 138 
 
LIST OF AUTHOES 
 
 WITH THE NUMBERS OE THEIR RESPECTIVE PIECES. 
 
 Barbauld, Anna Lsetitia (1743-1825), English, 48. 
 
 Blake, William (1757-1828), English, 21, 33. 
 
 Burns, Robert (1759-1796), Scotch, 34, 39. 
 
 Campbell, Thomas (1777-1844), Scotch, 4, 11. 
 
 Carlyle, Thomas (1795-1881), Scotch, 35. 
 
 Clough, Arthur Hugh (1819-1861), English, 47, 65, 67, 75, 76, 77. 
 
 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834), English, A, 33, 37, 43, 43, 
 
 64. 
 Cowper, William (1731-1800), English, 3, 3, 5, 6, 9, 10. 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803-1882), American, 1, 31, 56, 63, 71, 
 
 73, 74, 83, 83, n. 
 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (1749-1832), German, 35. 
 Gray, Thomas (1716-1771), English, 37. 
 Hemans, Felicia Dorothea (1794-1835), English, 79. 
 Herbert, George (1593-1632), English, 61, 63. 
 Herrick, Robert (1591-1674), English, 45. 
 Holmes, Oliver Wendell (born 1809), American, 30, 66. 
 Hooper, Ellen Sturgis (1812-1848), American, 51. 
 Hunt, Leigh (1784-1859), English, 13, 14, 16. 
 Jonson, Ben (1574-1637), English, 44. 
 Kemble, Frances Anne (born 1811), English, 84. 
 Kingsley, Charles (1819-1875), English, 41. 
 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (1807-1882), American, 19, 31, 
 
 46, 60. 
 Lowell, James Russell (born 1819), American, 13, 39, 36, 40, 53, 
 
 55, 78, 81. 
 Marvell, Andrew (1620-1678), English, 54. 
 Montgomery, James (1771-1854), Scotch, 33. 
 Moss, Thomas (1740-1808), English, 33. 
 Pastorius, Franz Daniel (1651-1719), German, 80. 
 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel (1828-1882), English, 38. 
 
 139 
 
140 LIST OF AUTHORS. 
 
 Shakspere, William (1564-1616), English, 3G, 49, 70. 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822), English, 17. 
 Southey, Robert (1774-1843), English, 18. 
 Sprague, Charles (1791-1875), American, 50. 
 TENNYSON, Alfred (born 1809), English, 38, 52, 57, 59, 68. 
 Thackeray, William Makepeace (1811-1863), English, 25. 
 Whittier, John Greenleaf (born 1808), American, 15, 80. 
 Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), English, 7, 8, 30, 69, 73. 
 Wotton, Henry (1568-1639), English, 58. 
 
INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 
 
 7 A barking sound the Shepherd hears page 18 
 
 16 Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 38 
 
 25 Ah ! bleak and barren was the moor 53 
 
 34 Ah ! if thy fate, with anguish fraught 63 
 
 27 Alas ! they had been friends in youth 55 
 
 6 Androcles from his injured lord, in dread 16 
 
 9 A peasant to his lord paid yearly court 23 
 
 2 A poet's cat, sedate and grave 4 
 
 65 Are there not, then, two musics unto men ! 101 
 
 20 As Life's unending column pours 47 
 
 13 A stranger came one night to Yussouf 's tent 32 
 
 45 A wearied pilgrim I have wandered here 78 
 
 10 A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest 24 
 
 26 Blow, blow, thou winter wind 54 
 
 63 But if thou do thy best 99 
 
 83 By the rude bridge that arched the flood 133 
 
 21 Can I see another's woe 48 
 
 54 Earth cannot show so brave a sight 88 
 
 33 Every night and every morn 61 
 
 49 Fear no more the heat o' the sun 82 
 
 64 Gently I took that which ungently came 100 
 
 80 Hail to Posterity ! 128 
 
 72 Hast thou named all the birds without a gun % 113 
 
 58 How happy is he born and taught 92 
 
 43 How seldom, Friend, a good great man inherits 76 
 
 141 
 
142 INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 
 
 Ill love contemplating — apart page 26 
 
 17 I met a traveller from an antique land 39 
 
 83 In an age of fops and toys 132 
 
 71 In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes 112 
 
 33 I saw a mother and her child C2 
 
 51 I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty 85 
 
 39 Is there, for honest poverty 70 
 
 3 It chanced, then, on a winter's day 9 
 
 47 It fortifies my soul to know 80 
 
 44 It is not growing like a tree 77 
 
 Q It is time to be old 136 
 
 18 It was a summer's evening 40 
 
 13 Jafiar, the Barmecide, the good Yizier 30 
 
 8 Lie here, without a record of thy worth 21 
 
 63 Lie not ; hut let thy heart he true to God 99 
 
 48 Life ! I know not what thou art 81 
 
 46 Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 79 
 
 53 Life may he given in many ways. 87 
 
 31 Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown 59 
 
 14 Lokman the Wise, therefore the Good (for wise 34 
 
 36 Looking within myself, I note how thin 67 
 
 55 Men ! whose boast it is that ye : 88 
 
 41 My fairest child, I have no song to give you 74 
 
 73 My heart leaps up when I behold 114 
 
 A O'er wayward childhood wouldst thou hold firm rule 1 
 
 39 O Truth ! O Freedom ! how are ye still born 57 
 
 57 O well for him whose will is strong 91 
 
 34 Oh ye ! who, sunk in beds of down 52 
 
 37 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 68 
 
 33 Pity the sorrows of a poor old man 49 
 
 6S Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky 107 
 
 GO Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said 95 
 
 15 Saint Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herds 36 
 
 7 Say not, the strusirle naught availoth 117 
 
 84 She has gone down ! They shout it from afar 134 
 
INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 143 
 
 30 Small service is true service while it lasts page 58 
 
 33 Sweet Mercy ! how my very heart has bled 51 
 
 79 The breaking waves dashed high 126 
 
 4 The deep affections of the breast 12 
 
 35 The future hides in it 65 
 
 5 The greenhouse is my summer seat 14 
 
 1 The mountain and the squirrel. 3 
 
 40 The rich man's son inherits lands 72 
 
 38 These little firs to-day are things 56 
 
 56 The timid it concerns to ask their way 90 
 
 10 This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling 44 
 
 66 This is the ship of pearl which, poets feign 103 
 
 74 Thou canst not wave thy staff in air 114 
 
 67 'Tis common sense, and human wit 105 
 
 38 Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere 69 
 
 59 Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud 91 
 
 70 Under the greenwood tree Ill 
 
 69 Up ! up ! my Friend, and quit your books 109 
 
 50 We are all here 83 
 
 77 What voice did on my spirit fall 118 
 
 78 When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad 
 
 earth's aching breast 122 
 
 75 When the enemy is near thee 115 
 
 43 Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn 1 75 
 
 81 Where is the true man's fatherland % 130 
 
 61 Who is the honest man % 97 
 
 53 Yea, let all good things await 86 
 
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